I just need to say something about the behavior of some people here. U should understand that some people may have a different opinion than yours. Again, I have a problem with the "steroline" fan, who thinks that nobody can dislike this ship from the show. But the truth is that everyone can think whatever he want to. We should respect each other and respect other opinions about... everything. Did you argue with someone who likes other food or movies? It's the same here. Everyone can have his own opinion about the show, characters, ships and about everything. Everyone can say what he think, but please, if u want to say something, try to use a normal language - we don't have to fight about everything.
This is also about using tags... Everyone here can use tags however he wants. It's no rules here for using them. Especially if these tags really match to the posts... If u don't like something, just don't watch. It's that simple.
And because this is my Tumblr I can add everything I want and use tags however I want.
Just respect each other :) Thanks for ur attention :)
P.S. I just can’t understand why mostly “steroline” fans have a problem with different opinions... But I’m sure that a lot of “steroline” fans are normal people :)
Prompt: I want to wake up next to you, kissing the curve of your clavicle.
Ghosts
A/N: i doubt this has anything to do with the prompt but it kinda wrote itself. Oh also, there is no specific timing for the story. they just aren't together. personally i imagined it as season 4 or 5.
It has it’s own kind of irony, that when everything is well, something feels wrong. What thing? They can’t really tell.
Mystic Falls, as weird as it sounds, has been safe for months. No one is knocking on their doors looking for doppelgangers’ blood or trying to kill them for whatever crazy reason there might be. Everyone is okay, happy, safe. All is well.
Bonnie is learning more about her magic, her family.
Damon isn’t being typical Damon for a long time now -thanks to Elena by his side.
Matt and Tyler are living, somehow, but in a good way.
And then there’s Caroline… And Stefan. They spend a long time without bringing it up. They don’t fall into that pit that eaisly. Because as strange as it is, there’s nothing specific they can bring up.
It’s just this strange feeling that something is missing. That question that forces its way into their heads; now what? ‘Cause Damon and Elena are taking steady steps into something bigger. Bonnie couldn’t care less about a boyfriend right now, too busy exploring her power and what she’s truly capable of. Tyler and Matt don’t mind one night stands.
And suddenly it sounds like it’s just the two of them. Alone.
At first, it’s just felt in boring hours at the grill. When everyone is busy with something, or someone, and they don’t really have anything to talk about.
After a while, it’s feeling like they’re out of the loop. More like, there is no loop. Which might be normal, only that they have nowhere else to be. No one to be with.
So they lean into each other, on some level. They sit next to each other at the grill just when they arrive, ‘cause they know that they’ll be sitting alone in few minutes so why not sit alone and together? He asks her things, small talk. How is her mother, where did she get that new watch she didn’t have last week.
It’s silly actually, but it works like magic. It’s enough to make her jump in her place, shifts her position so that she’s facing him and she talks and talks about silly things starting from that rude lady at the grocery to how she does her hair that way only in fifteen minutes.
It works for a while. But not that long.
Because it’s two after midnight, and he doesn’t want to sleep. So he lays in bed, staring at the ceiling and boredom eats him whole. Which is something he’d never thought he’d suffer from. Hunger? Yes. Exhaustion? Normal. But boredom? Wow, that really is a new level of being a loser.
But then it appears to be something more. After a while of overthinking and going back and forth. He finds that it’s not boredom. It’s more of… being lost.
More of loneliness.
Because when was the last time someone made him laugh? When was the last time he had a deep conversation, those which last for hours, just pouring your mind to someone? When was the last time someone told him that they missed him? When was the last time someone pulled him into a hug?
He is about to hit his head back into the pillow when her golden hair pops into his mind. And it’s one of those ‘oh’ moments that he hasn’t experienced in a long time. So he reaches for his phone and somehow finds the courage to send a message asking if she’s awake. Which she replied to after twenty seconds with ‘yeah’.
And that’s how it starts. They text for half an hour give or take. Silly things as usual; how was her day, how his car is getting really old, how Tyler got really drunk again. It all drives him mad, because this isn’t why he messaged her. He doesn’t want small talk and silly questions.
He wants deep talk, to pour his mind to her and have her do the same. To listen to the real stories she got and not how she hates driving at midday. He wants to cross boundaries, to go to dangerous places with questions that they don’t dare answer even to themselves.
So he doesn’t text back, instead he calls. She answers right away, her voice calm and soft and sleepy in someway. She starts with 'hey’ and he stays silent for a moment before answering with 'you okay?’ He asks it because he wants someone to ask him that, but he never admits it. It’s then her turn to stay quiet for a moment. “Yeah” she says. “Why do you ask?”
And he knows that she’s lying. He also knows that she’s not even trying to hide it. She might even be hoping that he’d notice.
And so he goes on. “It’s like an automatic answer, isn’t it? when someone asks whether you’re okay or not… it’s always yes.”
“Are you okay?” He can see her tilting her head.
He sits on the edge of his bed, looking up at the window. “No.” He lets out that breath. She doesn’t answer to that. And he doesn’t really expect her to. It’s then when he realizes - when they both realize, that they knew something was wrong for a while. That both of them kept it inside while chatting and forcing smiles and hoping it’d look real.
After a while, they leave the grill early. He walks her home and sits with her on her porch for a while. Soon that while turns into hours, laying on her car and watching the sky. Usually there’s a bottle passing between them, and usually he doesn’t let himself get drunk.
Because better keep himself under control than freak the poor girl out.
Yet, he envies the way she gets drunk too easily. How she comes up with terrible jokes and laughs for minutes. He wonders if she’s really in this with him. If she feels whatever the hell he’s feeling. That doubt vanishes when they stay silent for a long while, then she hums a lullaby too quietly.
When he looks at her she’s already looking away. Then she jumps off the car, and without looking at him, tells him that she should go to bed. He doesn’t know what to do but to stay there in the dark, finish the bottle, and listen to her as she falls asleep.
Three days later she falls asleep on his shoulder, good thing they moved the party inside and they’re seated on her couch. He knows it must be uncomfortable and that her neck will hurt in the morning. But he doesn’t wake her up, doesn’t even try to move her. Instead he waits till he falls asleep as well. He simply likes it way too much there, and he believes she likes it too.
So she’s like a drug. The more he takes, the more he needs. Once he knows what it’s like to talk to her, he doesn’t like to be alone. Once he knows what it’s like to fall asleep with her, he hates his bedroom. Once he saviors the scent of her house, he doesn’t want to leave.
So he shows up almost everyday. Coming up with excuses till he no longer has to. She even calls him when it’s past nine and he didn’t show up. The sheriff notices, of course she does. But she doesn’t annoy them with comments or questions. Something that Caroline is very thankful for. Because she doesn’t want to explain this weird, yet normal, bond that has grown between them.
She doesn’t want to think about what it means, or what comes next. She spent too much time worrying until somehow he managed to make her think less. So no, she doesn’t want to fall back into that old habit.
They watch movies sometimes. He lets her choose all the time. Not the he cares about the movie, he just cares about being around her.
She doesn’t fall asleep on his shoulder anymore. Instead they snuggle on the couch.
At first, it’s just a result of staying up too late and being heavily drunk that they don’t even remember how they ended up that way.
One night she wakes up in the middle of the night, and she doesn’t even need a second to remember that he’s there. She looks ahead for a moment, the place darker than it’s used to be. When she hears his breath and knows that he’s awake, she turns around in her place. He doesn’t open his eyes, probably considering to just pretend to be asleep.
When she turns around fully, almost falling off the couch, his eyes fly open. His hand holding her in place. He doesn’t bother to look down at her hand holding his shirt. But he listens to the way her heart beats, and it’s faster than usual.
He kisses her the exact moment she thinks about kissing him. It’s not really easy, giving their position. But he doesn’t need more than one brush, one grasp of her. He kisses her and stays there for a long moment. Pulling back into his place and looking at her, he feels scared for the first time in a long time.
But she goes back for his lips again, her head covering his and her fingers running over his jaw.
She takes more than one breath in between, as if she was running for hours. He almost thinks she’s crying, if it wasn’t for the fact that her face is dry. But he knows that crying doesn’t always come with tears.
When she’s done, she puts her forehead on his. And his hands run over her hair, holding her neck and breathing her in. He doesn’t open his eyes, neither does she.
He pulls her to his chest, hands circling her, trying to cover every inch of her. She holds his shoulder, her hand stroking it back and forth. He realizes then, that he feels much lighter than before. Because not only he found someone to love him, but he found someone to love.
And that kiss, that short-lived heaven, it gave some of the love he had in him.
Summary: He wants it to be perfect. But it's like god wants to teach him a lesson; nothing is perfect. Only if you find perfection in the imperfections.
A/N: i don’t have an explanation for the amount of ‘fluffiness’ in this, but really, even i can’t make getting married angsty! (i'm trying to be a better person) hashtagjuneweddinginparis
He thought about it before; getting married. Brown eyes, brown hair and a smile that warmed his heart after too long. The timing never came, and he knew that they got all the time so the idea was always there. As a step they will take one day, it was just too fitting.
To survive all the chaos they've seen, to have that happy ending they earned.
It was the obvious step they will take.
Because she was the one, his true love, his epic love.
Except she wasn't.
This shouldn't be what he thinks about, not past lovers and old promises. But earlier that day, he felt the same idea rising inside him. Like a sparkle that lit up too slowly then was suddenly everywhere. He remembers it quite well, as if he got the whole process tapped into his head.
First he was looking… just watching as she tried to cook, with her hair dangling down in a messy ponytail –one that wasn't messy earlier but it's too hot that there's sweet on her skin. And then his eyes travelled down her face, specifically to her lips which were stuck between her teeth. He always liked it when she focused.
He couldn't think about anything but the picture in front of him, not the microwave peeping behind him, not the water drops that were making their way down his body, not even his hair that was now a lost case.
He should switch the fan on –nope, he couldn’t even think of that.
It was as if he was watching a piece of art, observing every inch of the painting. That hand that comes up to her forehead to get her hair out of the way, her lips that come closer to let out a breath, her blue eyes that shine even better with the sunlight filling the kitchen.
And he knows that it's not the best place or time to realize it, because that's not a romantic story to answer 'when did you know?' with. But it wasn't his choice, he just realized it, it came out of nowhere.
He was watching, observing, smiling with absent mind and then there was… I wanna marry her.
And his eyes go wide, his jaw clinching and his hands holding the sink tighter. He looks down, startled by his mind. But it sinks in, in no time. As if it was the most normal thing… it felt right. He even wondered how he didn't think about it earlier.
Still out of place, stuck in the thought, he chuckles. It's low and heavy, as if his chest needed that decision to breathe.
He looks up then, and she is staring at him. With narrowed eyes and one smudged finger between her lips, she asks why he is laughing; she warns him that it's best if he keeps his comments to himself because she is cooking the damn thing.
And he only smiles, eyes in some sort of haze as he stares at her. He shakes it off quickly, giving her a nod and turning around to the microwave.
And now here he is, playing with her hair as she lets out soft breaths into his skin. All showered and cleaned up –and stuffed with that dinner. He listens to her breath, enjoys the content feeling of having her there, of having the luxury of holding her as she drifts into sleep. His eyes wander to her arm, how it covers his waist. He watches the top of her head, with her cheek against his chest in a way that will leave a mark when she wakes up.
And he knows that he wants this to last forever, he knows that he wants every night of his life to end like this, with their bodies wrapped together while he listens to her breath. It used to scare him before; how she got under his skin, like a drug he can't live without.
He's always wanted this kind of bond with someone, to be completed and fulfilled with another soul. But when he actually experienced it, he didn't like it. It scared him, to be always in need for someone. Because what happens when she's gone? Because everyone leaves eventually. How will he survive that?
But at some point he decided to stop fighting the fall, to just fall and embrace the fact that she completes him. And that without her, he will be half a person, only the bad things stuffed into half a soul.
Because he couldn't run from it; he could deny it all he wants, but he already found that person.
He should've known that it only gets worse from there, after letting go to that warmth; eventually your body craves it and you stay next to the bonfire forever.
And so he silences his thoughts, writes one big sentence on the wall that exists mentally in his brain; I want to marry her.
Simple, easy and beautiful.
It takes him three days to buy a ring, one that could steal her breath away.
It takes him more five days to come up with a speech, and it's the most tiring thing he's been through for a long time. Because he doesn't want to miss any detail; he wants to cover every single memory and touch and inside joke they have shared.
He wants it to be perfect.
But it's like god wants to teach him a lesson; nothing is perfect. Only if you find perfection in the imperfections.
And so, of all the drawers she chooses to look for a convenient shirt of his own to cover her bare skin, she opens the one he's hiding the ring in –yes he hides it in a drawer; family genes. And he's so oblivious, lying on the bed and staring at the ceiling, listening to the sound of the shirt's fabric against her flesh as she puts it on.
He closes his eyes, both arms under his head, as he waits for her to climb back to bed.
But she doesn't.
He doesn't hear a thing, she couldn't be moving. He didn't even hear her closing the drawer.
His eyes fly open as he jumps from the bed into his feet. He looks at her and sees her back, and he hears something; heartbeats, unsteady and loud.
"Caroline?" His voice breaks.
She turns around ever so slowly, looking to small in his blue shirt that barely covers her hips. His eyes go directly for her hands, and there it is; that little blue box.
He holds his breath as they look at each other. Her eyes are wide and her lips slightly parted. She titles her head, her chest heaving hardly.
"Uh," He takes a step forward, licking his lips. "There's something that I uh…" he pauses, tries to gather himself. "I wanted to tell you."
She titles her head to the other side, clearly not breathing at all.
"More of ask you actually." He chuckles nervously, getting closer. "Obviously this wasn't the plan, not in the afternoon and definitely not in my room." He chuckles again. "But I guess we'll just… settle for this." He continues when she remains silent.
And hands down, Caroline Forbes never stayed quiet that long.
"I'll just…" He mumbles as he takes the box from her hand. Getting down on one knee, he mumbles something incoherent.
He clears his throat.
One hand goes up to his hair, trying to make it look better, regardless to the fact that her hair looks like a bird's nest and he's only wearing pants and she's only covered with his shirt –which isn't even buttoned properly.
"Okay." He takes a breath, opening the box.
Once she sees the ring, that blue diamond shinning too bright, her hand flies to cover her mouth and muffle that gasp. And her eyes are shinning with tears already.
"Caroline…" He starts, and a smile takes its place on his lips quickly. "You are… my best friend, my favorite person in this world. You are… my guardian angel," They both chuckle. " You keep me sane when I don’t want to, you make life bearable and you –you make me hope, you make me… see things, you… you saw the world in me when I saw nothing but chaos and for that, for saving me, I will always, always owe you one."
There are tears running down his face, but not more than the ones running down her own.
"Caroline, you uh-" He licks his teeth. "You –You're my best friend." He shrugs. "And… when –I mean –you always… Damn it will you marry me?
He lets out a breath, and she can barely see his face from her tears. She starts nodding and doesn't stop, her head moving hysterically up and down and nodding ten times in the second.
"Is that a yes?" He chuckle.
"Yes, god, yes" She giggles and her voice sounds strange with all those tears.
He's about to stand when she kneels in front of him, meeting him in the middle for a kiss that goes all wrong. Their lips don't even meet at the beginning, and it takes them few moments to adjust and kiss properly, yet they keep breaking the kiss with their laughter –and tears that make the kiss way more wet than it should be.
Her hands hold his neck, with her fingers buried in his hair.
He tries to hold her waist without dropping the ring.
They don't stop for forty five seconds; kissing and laughing and crying.
But eventually they pull away; only for him to put that ring on her finger. She touches it and her heart melts, so does his heart just from watching her.
They kiss again, and again. They keep kissing till their lips hurt, and they end up on the bed in that same position; her head on his chest as he sits half-straightly. His fingers keep playing with her hair, while her fingers keep playing with the ring that she can't stop looking at.
"So you like it?" He mumbles into her hair.
"I love it." She answers. "I love you." She kisses him once before going back into her old position.
