musical wine glasses

floaty dancing-in-a-field-at-sunset songs

other people - beach house, florida kilos - lana del rey, chamber of reflection - mac demarco, australia- the shins, gypsy - fleetwood mac, ultra violence - lana del rey, hold this tight - i know leopard, sparks - beach house, dreams - fleetwood mac, panama - sports, someday’s gone - redspencer, all i wanna do - the beach boys, laika- sticky fingers


What was a bath good for? - relaxation, peace and quiet, soothing sore muscles, the list is endless. Why were you taking a bath? All of the reasons above. Candles, bubbles, soft music, a glass of wine and your favourite bath salts made the bathroom calm.

Taking a sip, you titled your head back. Mac was still at work, which was a shame, he was missing out. The idea shouldn’t of popped in your head, but who could blame a girlfriend who wanted to relax with her boyfriend?. Drying your hands, you took a photo and sent it to Mac, captioning it: Hurry home, this bath tub is getting lonely. x

Setting the phone down, you closed your eyes. Relishing in the tranquil state the candles and music were providing. Minutes later the bathroom door opened.

“My girlfriend sending me a sexy photo while I’m work, for the sole purpose to taunt me makes it very hard to concentrate”. Mac removed his shoes and leather jacket.

It wasn’t easy to catch Mac off guard, him being a secret agent and all. He always had a strong composure. But a cheeky photo was something you knew would throw him off balance. “Riley told me you’d finished the mission. Besides I figured I’d give you something to look forward once you got home”. Lifting your leg up, the water ran down. Mac gulped. “Are you going to get in?”.

Discarding his clothes, Mac slipped into the warm water, you leaning against his chest as he massaged your shoulders. “This is perfect, exactly what I needed”.

“I thought you might, after all saving the world must get tiring”. Making the water splash a little as you straightened up. You grabbed both Mac’s hands and crossed them over your chest, fingers still intertwined.

“At times, but knowing I have you to come home too makes it worthwhile”. He kissed your cheek.

“Angus Macgyver getting all romantic, you’re full of surprises”. Giggling. Mac’s hands detached from yours and rested now on your stomach. “Stick with me long enough and I’ll show you some more surprises I have up my sleeve”.

Talking indirectly about the future always made your heart skip. Mac never promised anything concrete, due to his job. But here he was, hinting that he wanted a future with you.

Standing up, you let the water drip off your body before stepping out on the towel placed at the base of the tub. Grabbing Mac’s leather jacket, you put it on. Mac’s jaw nearly hitting the floor as you did so.

“Care to surprise me in our bedroom, Macgyver”. You only ever just called him Macgyver when you were flirting with him, or teasing. In this case it was both. He leaped from the tub and wrapped a towel around his waist. “You, Y/N are going to be the death of me”. He chuckled, bringing you closer to his body.

“Right back at you. Now surprise me, Angus Macgyver”.

He lifted you up bridal style and proceeded to the bedroom. Surprising you over and over again.


Only If For A Night [Pt. 2]

Hi all, so I’ve finished Part 2 (a lot earlier than I expected tbh and here is the link to pt. 1: and this one focuses a lot more on Stefan’s pain and emphasizes the angst and the connection between Stefan and Elena and what it means. I wanted to contrast fluff with heartbreak this time and raise the stakes so hopefully I did that and hopefully you all enjoy it because I did have a lot of fun writing this and I really like giving you guys things to read that you find interesting so here we go, people to tag: @thewitchandlonerdiaries @stefan4president @theeverlarkfamily @stefan-is-too-sexy-for-you @savagetore @emjo029 @demetrias-stelena @melissasbamonromantictales @kissmebluesexyvioletsme @christinaelena-1 @stelena-forever-and-always @stelenamagic @stelena-lover-forever @youareatypo @everythingdobsley @tvtaughtmehowtofeel @fiftyshadesofstelena @nor-20 @girlmeetsbamonsdescendants @denisa-diana @1000-to-1 @tea-moonn @sunnydrive92

And I heard your voice
As clear as day
And you told me I should concentrate
It was all so strange
And so surreal
That a ghost should be so practical
Only if for a night

– Florence & the Machine, Only If For A Night

The pain was constant. It didn’t come in waves. His body never gave up fighting, never tired into acceptance that he was in fact drowning, never allowed him to drift away into death. No, instead Stefan struggled to break free of the lock box, shaking his head frantically, coughing and inhaling at the same time, snorting in water that blocked his nostrils, gasping in water that flooded his airway. He banged his fists against the metal, cutting open his knuckles; his arms were cramped and sore, his legs were stiff from being unable to move them, his chest was heavy from the feeling like it was going to cave in or combust. Agony was his state of being. Agony was beginning to drive him mad; he could feel it. Feel his mind begin to splinter, fragment into oblivion. And he wanted to let it; he wanted to give up fighting so desperately so he could find some sort of peace in insanity. But every time he tried he instantly remembered when he’d yearned for the same defeat two years earlier. Every time he tried, he instantly heard her voice echo in his head, reverberate through his chest:

           You can fight it, you just have to want it bad enough.

           Why? Because I love you?

           That’s right, Stefan, because you love me. You’ll fight because after everything we’ve been through, you owe me that!

           He couldn’t. He couldn’t stop waiting. He couldn’t disappoint her like that, he couldn’t disappoint himself like that. He’d have to hold on.

           More water.

           Stefan felt like his entire body was on the verge of shattering and yet would never actually break; his throat was swollen and raw. He had to do something other than struggle. He had to do something other than drown. And even though it took everything he had in him, even though it felt like he was wringing his very brain painfully tight, Stefan squeezed his eyes shut and forced his mind into a different place, a different time.

           The Salvatore Manor. His manor. His kitchen.

           There was steam everywhere. The smell of garlic and onions. The sizzling of ground beef. The innocuous bubbling of boiling water. Copper pots. Copper frying pans. A wine bottle. A wine glass. Music in the background. Stefan was in front of the stove, moving quickly but gracefully, stirring here, seasoning there. He picked up a spoon and dipped it in the largest pot, moving it upward toward his mouth and then —

           Darkness. He couldn’t see. The feel of a palm against his eyes. He grinned.

           “This is how accidents happen.”

           “C’mon, Stefan. I wouldn’t let anything happen to this kitchen. Don’t you trust me?”

           “The words ‘Elena Gilbert’ and ‘kitchen’ don’t exactly inspire confidence.”


           Elena moved her hand away from Stefan’s eyes and he craned his neck back to see her head rested on his shoulder; his grin widened as she slipped her arms around his middle.

           “What’re you cooking anyway?” she said. “It smells incredible.”

           “Spaghetti Bolognese. A Salvatore Family recipe. I’m just worried that the sauce doesn’t have enough garlic.”

           Elena put her hand on Stefan’s and moved his wrist so that he guided the spoon into her mouth.

           “Mm,” she groaned as she sampled the sauce. “Tastes perfectly good to me.”

           “You could be lying.”

           Elena leaned forward and kissed Stefan hard on the mouth, her hand on the back of his head; she grinned at the surprised moan in his throat and pulled away.

           “There. You tasted it. What do you think? Enough garlic?”

           “You know,” said Stefan. “I don’t think I could tell just from that.”

           And Stefan kissed her again, causing Elena to giggle. He dropped the spoon onto the counter and put his hand on the side of her face, turning around completely to intensify their embrace. Elena stood on tiptoe, running her fingers through his hair and Stefan began guiding her to the counter on the wall opposite the oven so that her back bumped against it. He held her tightly, smiling at the taste of his sauce, the taste of her lips on his tongue.

           Whoosh. Hiss. Sizzle.

           Stefan broke away and looked behind him to the stove. The pot with the spaghetti was overflowing. He rushed back over and lifted it off the burner, draining the pasta in the strainer.

           “You’re distracting me. You can’t be in the kitchen,” he said.

           “But I like watching you cook.”

           “Then you have to watch. Stay there.”

           “But I can’t see from over here. Let me help.”

           “Remember the last time?”

           “The fire extinguisher was right there! Come on, I can do something.”

           Stefan turned his head to look at her, she looked back.

           “Fine. Come here.”

           Elena grinned and skipped over to the counter by the stove.

           “You can start on dessert. Work the dough with your hands.”

           Elena shifted over to the sink and rinsed her hands beneath the faucet, wiping them off on a tea towel, and then she dug her hands into the silver bowl in front of her, kneading the dough.

           “Like this?”

           Stefan glanced over to what she was doing then turned the heat down on all of the burners and moved from the stove to the counter. He stood behind Elena, his front pressed against her back and he put his hands in the bowl with hers, their fingers entwining as they both massaged the dough. After a while, Elena hooked some on her index finger then turned around slightly to smear it beneath Stefan’s nose, giving him a moustache.

           “There,” she said, barely containing her laughter. “Much better. You look so much more sophisticated with a moustache.”

           Stefan stared seriously at her for a minute and then abruptly grabbed fistfuls of dough and slathered it in her hair.

           Laughing, he used his speed to zoom away from her as Elena reached for the cutting board and hurtled diced onions and tomatoes and parsley at him by the handful. Quickly, she opened the fridge, taking out a bottle of Heinz and raced toward Stefan, squeezing all of the ketchup onto his head. Stefan retaliated by grabbing clumps of the spaghetti and throwing it at her. They continued to run around the kitchen, their bodies a blur of speed, chucking fruits at each other, spraying condiments on one another, dumping juices and sodas on each other until they were grimed and slicked with food. Breathless and exhilarated, Elena hid behind the breakfast counter, stooped low as Stefan stood in the kitchen.

           “Surrender!” he said.

           “Why should I have to surrender? You surrender!”

           “I don’t want to!”

           “Neither do I!”

“OK how about no one surrenders. How about a truce?”

           A pause.

           “Agreed,” said Stefan.

           “So if I come out, that means you can’t throw anything!”

           “I won’t.”


           “How could you even ask that, you trust me, right?”

           Elena pushed her mouth to the side. “OK I’m coming out!”

           Before she could fully stand up, Stefan was at her side. They gazed at each other for a minute, smiling widely, and then Stefan lunged forward and kissed her. Elena threw her arms around his neck in response.

           “Dinner’s ruined,” she said between kisses.

           “That’s why they invented pizza delivery,” said Stefan.

           Elena kissed him deeply then pulled back. “Feel so gross. I need a shower.”

           “Love it,” said Stefan. He picked her up without warning, making her cry out in surprise. “Let’s go.”

           Stefan felt his body move, felt it speed out of the kitchen and up the stairs. And yet he was stuck. Yet he, his presence, his mind, didn’t go along with his body but stayed where it was —

           It was like the earth turned on its axis. For a brief second everything was beyond space, beyond time, or maybe between it. Stefan felt weightless. Then cold. Then bodiless.

           Suddenly, everything clicked back but he was no longer in the Salvatore Mansion; he was no longer in a living memory. He was in a … motel room? But he wasn’t really there, everything was grey and muted and removed. This was purgatory. This was death. He’d finally died. And that meant —

           There was the sound of a key turning in a lock and Elena walked into the room, her cell phone between her ear and shoulder.

           Everything within Stefan shifted. He was nervous yet relieved, calm but excited; like always, the sight of Elena anchored Stefan yet sent him into a free-fall and he moved to rush over to her, to hug her, to kiss her, but then re-remembered that he couldn’t and suffered excruciating disappointment that devoured him; consumed him with sadness. He suffered through this cycle every time he died, every time he saw her because holding Elena had become more than a habit to Stefan, it’d become instinct, and instinct was something that could seldom ever be unlearned if at all.  

           “I didn’t find anything here. What about you?” Elena walked further into the room, tossing the keys onto a tiny nightstand table. “Well, did you find anymore leads when you were there?”

           Elena nearly brushed Stefan’s shoulder as she paced the length of the room and Stefan took a deep breath in as she passed him, feeling only the tension of a near-touch that suffocated him with longing. His entire body screamed with it — longing, desire, screamed with desperation for her to know that he was there, for her to know how unbearable it was to not be able to feel her, for her to know how painful it was to see her in pain and that if he could, he’d have cured her of that pain in an instant, cured her of her want for him.    

“OK well I’ll get the next flight out to South Carolina and then you and I — yes, I am coming, Damon. Are you giving up on looking for him?” Elena paused and then whirled around in frustration so that her back was facing Stefan. “So then why should I? You’re not the only one entitled to finding him! You’re not the only one who loves him!” She stood where she was, clenching her hair in her free hand. “How can you talk to me about school right now? You didn’t care about me going to school when you thought I’d be spending the entire summer with y — of course I want a regular college life but I won’t be able to have one if Stefan isn’t back!”

Stefan walked toward Elena, an expression of sheer anguish contorting his face. He stood directly behind her as he’d done in the kitchen all those months ago and slowly, he moved his hands across her shoulders, sliding them down her arms, wanting nothing more than to soothe her. Elena arched her back and quickly reached around with her free hand, spinning on the spot only to come face to face with nothing.

“But I felt …” she whispered. Then she shook her head and spoke into the phone. “Nothing, Damon. I’m just talking to myself. Look, it isn’t about whether or not I trust you, it’s about — Damon, I am not waiting on you to bring him back to me, if we’re both looking there’s a better chance of him being found, this isn’t up for discussion.”

It was cruel that Stefan could feel the panic in Elena’s words, feel it so deeply that her anxiety trilled in his veins but he was unable to experience her body next to his, she was unable to know just how much he wanted to trail his thumb across her bottom lip. His eyes were red with unshed tears, his forehead creased. He had to do it. He had to try. Like every time he saw her.

Stefan reached forward and then —

That familiar hook behind his navel. No. No. This wasn’t enough time! He’d barely been here five minutes! This wasn’t fair. He wasn’t ready! NO! NO! NO! Stefan looked around frantically, as if there were a door or a passage he could escape through so he wouldn’t have to return, so he wouldn’t have to leave. He couldn’t go back!

“No!” he yelled as he felt himself lose grips, lose his hold on his purgatory. “NO! I’M NOT READY TO GO! NO!”

Elena flinched.


Elena flinched and looked frantically around the motel room. She’d heard it. Not an echo but almost. There were traces of it bouncing off the walls. And it felt like Stefan. She’d be afraid that she was going crazy if she wasn’t so sure, if she didn’t know without a doubt what Stefan’s presence felt like, if she didn’t have such resolute hope, such stubborn faith that Stefan would hold on, that he would trust her to find him.  

“Damon, I’ll call you back.”

She hung up the phone and dialled Bonnie’s number immediately afterward.  The other end picked up.


“Bonnie? Hi. How are you? How’s Jer? Is everyone OK?”

“Yeah, we’re fine. Worried about you. Caroline wants me to let you know that registration is on Monday.”

“Yeah, I know,” said Elena. “Listen. I need to ask you a question. A magic question.”

“Uh yeah. OK. Shoot.”

“Is it possible for me and Stefan to be linked somehow? Like is it possible that when I say I feel him, I’m literally feeling his pain? Or that he’s literally calling out to me and I can feel that call? That it’s not just an expression?”

“Well, Grams did talk about certain connections,” said Bonnie. “Like this is old magic, natural magic, beyond spells and incantations and it’s not love, it’s bigger than that. It’s life. When two people find life in each other, it’s a bond that’s able to transcend even space and time — it creates a sort of tether. It’s like the definition of a rare occurrence but it can happen. I mean, that’s what a soulmate is.” Bonnie paused. “And if any two people could find that, I believe it’d be you and Stefan.”

“I feel him, Bonnie,” said Elena quietly. “I swear, sometimes I feel like he’s in the room with me. Like he’s trying to … it’s like he’s touching me.”

“Elena, that sounds way too specific,” said Bonnie. “That sounds like … it sounds like me when I was on the Other Side. When I wanted to touch Jeremy. It sounds like Stefan’s —”

“He’s not dead, Bonnie,” said Elena emphatically. “I’m telling you, I’m not being delusional, I know he isn’t dead.”

“Maybe not permanently,” said Bonnie slowly, as if she were thinking her idea through as she said it. “Maybe he’s dying over and over again because he’s a vampire and … you two are tethered so his spirit goes wherever you go. He’s literally trying to touch you and call out to you, like you said.”

Elena held the phone to her ear, not speaking, as she contemplated the horror of that situation; the frantic need to find Stefan turning reckless in her.  


“OK,” said Elena. “OK, I have a plan. I need to pack, get ready for the drive home.”

“Wait, you’re leaving now?”

“Yes now. Right now!”

“Whoa, whoa, wait a minute, what’s the plan?”

“Well, it really boils down to this,”  said Elena as she opened her travel bag and started shoving her clothes in it. “I’m going to die.”