🪽

𝕰𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐀  𝐇𝐀𝐃  𝐓𝐎  𝐀𝐃𝐌𝐈𝐓  𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓  𝐁𝐄𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐄  𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐅𝐀𝐍 𝐒𝐀𝐋𝐕𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐄,  or  rather,  before  Matthew  Honeycutt,  she’d  never  truly  given  a  boy  much  more  than  a  wave  goodbye.  OUT OF SIGHT, OUT OF MIND. Boys  were  purely  just  a  measure  of  how  beautiful  you  were;  of  how  popular.  Nothing  more  than  that,  and  truly  nothing  more  than  expendable.  They  were  conquests,  and  there  seemed  to  always  be  a  surplus  of  them  to  go  around. 

But  she’d  met  her  maker  that  senior  year.  Matt  turned  out  to  be  the  best  friend  she’d  never  expected,  saving  her  skin  more  than  once.  More  than  twice !  And  then  Stefan,  the  great  love  of  her  life.  Well,  one  of  the  greats,  actually.  How  lucky  was  she,  Elena  Gilbert,  to  have  been  able  to  count  a  few  of  those  in  one  lifetime.  She  had  lived  and  learned  and  loved  a  lot  in  that  lifetime  before  death  had  claimed  her.  And  now  that  she’d  come  back,  she  was  more  careful.  Careful  of  boys  and  their  feelings,  no  matter  how  misguided.  If  she  ever  did  fall  again,  she  wanted  it  to  be  for  the  right  reasons.   

Elena  answered  the  door, poised in a violet Zara off the shoulder fitted top over jeans blanched to a pale cream. She  didn’t  really  know  what  she’d  expected.  Perhaps  a  crow  on  the  ledge ?  She  had  a  remedy  for  that,  too.  A  good,  swift  stone  on  its  brazen carcass  would  send  it  spiraling  toward  the  midnight  sky and the outcropping of oaks just beyond that.  But  it  was  not  a  crow;  it  was  Allie Hayes,  and  it  looked  like  she  was  in  need  of  some consoling.  She  licked  her  lips  painstakingly as  they  dropped  to  the  welcome bottle  of  beer  in  her  hand,  and  rapidly  moved  back  to  Allie’s  visage to  see  if  any  other  messages  lingered. 

❛❛ But  you  don’t  have  to  be,  Allie.  Get  in  here,  and  I’ll  show  you  how  to  get  a  guy  to  never,  ever  guess  your  next  move.  He’s  too  sure  of  you,  and  that’s  the  whole  problem. ❜❜  She  smiled,  and  grasped  Allie  by  the  shoulders.  Pulling  her  into  a  hug,  she  gets  her  past  the  threshold  and  carefully  closes  the  door,  locking  it  behind  her in earnest. 

this moment had build up slowly for the both of them. the weeks of banters, the almost kisses here and there, dean almost on his knees, begging for her to trust him when he said that there is only her now. cause that's the case. he was so used to hook up with multiples girls for weeks on ends that he was sure he almost lost the things he was good at. though, he can see in her eyes that she wasn't indifferent to him. the way she shivers when he remove a strand of her blonde hair to put it behind her ears, the intake of beath when he is close to her as he flirts with her, her eyes drifting to his lips. but he isn't going to be the one giving in first. she was. and he hopes the signal he sends to her are really responsive.

just like now, eyes on her the whole time as he approach slowly, hand yanking her by her jeans toward him, and his lips, almost brushing hers as he kept his eyed bored on her while he breath out slowly.

" yeah. we shouldn't. something you seem to sings a lot of times lately. yet, you haven't pushed me away. so, "

lips are slowly locking in with hers while a low growl escape him while his hands wraps around her face as he lean his head to the side to accentue the kiss.

𝕿𝐑𝐔𝐒𝐓  𝐖𝐀𝐒  𝐀  𝐁𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐄𝐃  𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐂𝐄𝐏𝐓  𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓  𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃  𝐁𝐄  𝐎𝐁𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐄𝐃  𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇  𝐓𝐇𝐄  𝐎𝐅𝐅𝐒𝐄𝐓  𝐎𝐅  𝐑𝐎𝐒𝐄-𝐂𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐑𝐄𝐃  𝐆𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐒𝐄𝐒.  Trust  breeds  trust :  you  have  to  get  it  to  give  it.  The  better  question  was  this.  COULD  DEAN  DI  LAURENTIS  BE  TRUSTED ?  Elena  highly  doubted  it,  and  it  wasn’t  coming  from  a  place  of  snarky  abhorrence.  There  was  just . . .   something . . .  off  about  the  guy.  It  didn’t  mean  he  wasn’t  hot,  though.  God,  he  was  and  he  knew  it.  That  was  the  whole  damn  problem  about  him. 

She  wouldn’t  wind  up  being  one  of  those  girls.  The  little  groupies  that  were  close  to  getting  a  tattoo  of  the  hockey  players  name  or  number  tattooed  on  their  ass.  What  were  they  called  again ?  Doesn’t  matter — don’t  care.    Her  feigning  indifference  was  catching  up  to  her,  and  so  much  bluster  could  only  take  her  so  far.  She  really  needed  to  get  the  hell  out  of  here,  actually. 

Her  deep azure eyes  slowly  trail  his  movements  as  he  places  an  unruly  golden blonde  lock  of  hers  behind  her  small  ear,  and  she  slightly  bites  the  corner  of  her  cheek  in  dismay.  How  did  she  always  find  herself  in  these  predicaments ?  Did  she . . .  just  look  at  his  mouth ?  God,  you  are  really  something,  Elena  Gilbert,  she  castigates  internally. 

Iwillnotgivein  Iwillnotgivein  Iwillnotgivein. 

If  she  repeats  this  like  a  mantra,  she  wonders  if  it  would  work.  Her  mind  was  a  cacophony  of  spiraling  thoughts  as  she  did  her  best  to  not  separate  any  of  the  words,  or  her  little  ritual  would  fall  apart,  and  it  would  become . . .  real.  That  for  weeks  of  keeping  this  barbarian  at  arm’s  length  will  have  been  for  nothing.  His  eyes  were  on  her  now,  and  she  had  somehow  allowed  this,  allowed  her  to  become  like  prey.  She  wouldn’t  call  herself  actual  prey :  she  wasn’t  dealing  with  one  of  those. 

Before  she  could  so  much  as  think  straight,  every  half - thought  she  had  was  roiling  around  in  her  mind  like  the  glittery  debris  in  a  snow  globe.  Fuck,  Elena  thought.  Bad  timing,  bad  guy,  bad  concept,   bad  bad  bad !  She  was  unceremoniously  yanked  to  him,  and  once  again  any  thoughts  she  previously had  scurried  away  from  her  like  field  mice  evading  a  barn  owl.  Fingers  had  somehow  found  themselves  in  the  loops  of  her  jeans,  tugging  her  directly  to  him.  God,  @deand1laurentis  was stronger . . .  than  she  had  given  him  credit  for.       

The  more  he  spoke,  the  more  Elena  found  that  his  voice  didn’t  bother  her  so  much,  or  the  words  that  tumbled  past  the  lips  she’d  been  eyeing  for  the  last  five  minutes.  And  then,  the  undertow :  he  had  come  like  that  owl  to  swoop  down  upon  her,  capturing  her  lips  with  his  own.  So  much  for  her  making  the  first  move.  But  she  found  that  his  lips  were  so  soft . . .  almost  as  though  they  were  coaxing  feelings  out  of  her.  Feelings  she  wasn’t  supposed  to  have !  Oh  well,  she  thinks  to  herself  as  her  slender arms  slowly and unconsciously snake  around  his  neck,  pulling  him  down  to  deepen  the  kiss.  So  much  for  hating  him. 

IT'S JUST U + UR HANDS TONIGHT....

do you trust me enough to close your eyes? // && @angelrisen

eyebrows raise themselves for a moment , though then come back to be level , instead opting to furrow . of course she has all the confidence in her , would lay her life in her hands , though being asked such a thing was slightly odd and .... ominous ? no , she cannot think that way , the other girl would never harm her , not even think of such for a second .

║▌│ㅤ۶ৎ ‬     * ｡ ⋆      ⤷ ˎˊ˗ 𝕳𝐄𝐑  𝐄𝐘𝐄𝐁𝐑𝐎𝐖𝐒  𝐒𝐋𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐋𝐘  𝐋𝐈𝐅𝐓  𝐀𝐒  𝐒𝐇𝐄  𝐒𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐒,  curving  with  the  planes  of  her  glowing visage.  When  Elena  smiled  she  smiled  with  her  whole  face,  not  just  those lapis lazuli  eyes.  Unless  that's  all  she  was  going  to  give  a  person. 

❛❛ Okay  now  just  be  still.  It  takes  a  lot  of  concentration  to  adhere  falsies. ❜❜  She  grins,  and  slowly  applies  them  to  her  eyes,  ensuring  that  they  remained  both  smooth  and  taut.  She  examines  her  handy  work  as  a  surgeon  examines  a  patient  after  the  procedure,  turning  her  this  way  and  that.  ❛❛ Perfect !  See  it's  about  the  precision.  And  I  am  a  damn  expert  when  it  comes  to  beauty  and  skincare. ❜❜