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
I have up my sleeve”.
Talking indirectly about the
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.
We keep finding some cool stuff on the trash, today my roommate found not one but 3 different,not complete, sets of dish ware plus some wine glasses and this happened, I have never had the chance to do this before so it was kind of a mind blowing experience for me
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.
Because I love you?
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.
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
“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.”
A Salvatore Family recipe. I’m just worried that the sauce doesn’t have enough
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
me. You can’t be in the kitchen,” he said.
“But I like watching
“Then you have to watch. Stay there.”
“But I can’t see from
over here. Let me help.”
“Remember the last
“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.
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.”
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?”
“Agreed,” said Stefan.
“So if I come out,
that means you can’t throw anything!”
“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.
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.
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.
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
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
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
“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 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
“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.”