STEFAN SALVATORE

“i would torment her daily but she —   well,  she died when i was twelve.   pneumonia.”   consumption.   but that’s not really a disease that screams twenty-first century.   “her lungs just gave out.   there was nothing the doctors could do.”   people didn’t know as much about human bodies and different diseases back then in 1858 as they do now.   those days are all a blur now.   “you do have a point,  but still…   it’s only two weeks.   that’s not a lot of time,”   he playfully counters,  knowing she’s right but never skipping the opportunity to engage in a good-natured bickering with her.   greeting her with an awkward smile as she reappears in the doorway,  he can only hope she actually does invite him in or he will have to come up with some crazy excuse as to why he has to go back home.   “yes,  you did but i didn’t want to overstep.”   since they had that fight earlier.   it sounds believable,  he thinks.   “okay,  thanks.”   now that he’s been properly invited in,  he can actually stop staring at the flag and step inside.   he closes the door behind himself and takes off his leather jacket.   “so?   hot chocolate?”   he muses,  trying to play off the awkwardness.

“mhm,  that’s right.”   he isn’t big on zodiacs and stars and all that stuff,  but wonders if she is.   “right?   my mother missed halloween by a couple of hours.   i’ll never forgive her for taking the opportunity to throw costume birthday parties away from me,”   stefan playfully muses,  having to speak louder now that she’s somewhere inside the house.   “june 22nd?   you almost were born on independence day,”   he quips,  thinking she does look like a summer child.   she’s so radiant.   “some of us have a sophisticated palate and others like…   bubblegum.”   oh,  he’s not letting that one go easily.   smiling goofily when she returns,  visibly confused,  stefan decides he should just pretend he’s being silly and funny and fooling around.   “it didn’t sound like a real invitation,”   he points out sheepishly.   it still doesn’t sound like she’s inviting him in and so he stays right where he is,  feeling more and more awkward by the second.

ELENA AND STEFAN - MATCHING PROFILE SET — 2.01 "The Return" The Vampire Diaries

she hums. feels like she's stuck and can't get out of the caramel jungle when she eats it. by time this caramel debate rolls on, they finally venture into a neighborhood less illuminated. just the moon hanging through the bare trees, the damp fog chilling her skin, she's happy to finally walk up on the porch light that welcomes them to her home. hand lets stefan's go, pinkies slipping away, black converse steps up on the dark green porch steps. american flag draping down, swing adorned with pillows that match the season they're in next to the white rocking chairs, brown door with warm light glowing through it's rectangle window above it. "well, we're here. and i expect that hot chocolate from you," elena warns, smiling softly, putting her bit of anger towards him to the side, wagging her finger at him as she looks over her shoulder before looking to the door she turns the knob to step inside.

they both fall silent,  sucking on pieces of caramel candy stuck to their teeth and melting on their tongues.   fortunately,  by the time they reach elena’s house,  stefan feels like he can smile again without worrying.   he steals another glance in her direction,  feeling shy all the sudden,  intimidated by her beauty.   he blames it on the moon and the fact that she does look exactly like that girl from the past but at the same time…   she’s just so different.   he lingers on the porch,  just marveling at her.   “i’ll be more than happy to oblige.   one hot chocolate coming right up.   though,  i might need some help.   an assistant.”   he waits for her to invite him in,  pretending he’s admiring the flag.   “are you i can come in?   won’t your aunt mind?”

“better? how can it get any better than this, stefan. but let’s not pretend you’d recognize me even if i was with all of that you hate me for good nonsense. still… it’s sweet you hope, but that’s always been your problem.” and ironically the thing she loves most about him but making him feel bad for it is her only strength to survive still loving him when he clearly doesn't nor will ever feel the same.

stefan is leaning against the doorframe,  the glow of the party lights catching in his emerald eyes,  amusement dancing deep within them as they focus on katherine’s face.   “oh,  i could think of a few areas for improvement if you’d like to brainstorm later,”   he teases lightly,  antagonizing her at least an hour before the clock has the chance to strike midnight and carry them into yet another year.   never in his wildest dreams nightmares did he ever think he would live long enough to see that many new year's eve’s celebrations.   “you’re right.   i probably wouldn’t if you changed overnight.”   he’d think it was a trick,  that she wanted something from him and was trying to butter him up.   “but if said change lasted more than two weeks…   different story.”   ignoring her comment about all of that hate that he apparently has for her,  figuring it’s a poorly executed mind game,  a feeble attempt at getting him to admit that he’s forgiven her and doesn’t cling onto the hate.   he won’t give her that.   he won’t admit it to himself either.   “for what it’s worth,  katherine,  you shouldn’t want to be better to prove something to me.   you should try and do it for yourself,”   he says instead,  calmly,  trying to get a reaction out of her.   “and you…   never hope for anything?” 

and I pray, and I hope.

at the mention of hot chocolate again, her attention snaps back to stefan, brows lifting despite herself. “italians and hot chocolate?” elena repeats, mock-skeptical, undeniably tempted. “well, it's not fair. you can’t just mention a secret family recipe and expect me not to be curious... and i bet you know it, too.” saying confidently, feeling a pang of frustration over it too, that he's trying to get by with HOT CHOCOLATE tempting, “maybe we trade. hot chocolate first. confessions later. if you promise.” even though it's tearing at her, trying to pretend everything is fine when she really needs to overcome this barrier first to be able to enjoy anything else between them.

“mhm,  just so happens that i do.”   know this secret family recipe for the most delicious hot chocolate.   “could share it with someone trustworthy,  someone who could keep it a secret.”   smiling softly when she offers him what looks like a metaphorical life raft,  one last chance to get things right,  to have a cup of something sweet and warm and talk.   of course,  he takes it.   he would be stupid not to.   “i promise,”   he says quietly,  curling his pinky around hers as they walk hand in hand.   his thoughts are swirling and he can’t help but try to weigh in the good,  the bad and everything in between…   can he tell her the truth and expect her to look at him the same?   that’s insane.   but does he have any other options?

“ha, ha, stefan,” saying sarcastically. “well, if you'd be honest then you could do that. and i'd even let you elaborate more about italians and hot chocolate info.”

"no, but i can read their minds and probably guess one won't be caught in the middle of town." she quips, figuring that's just where the animal accidents only keep happening at. in the woods at high school and college bonfire parties– not down their town's streets right along civilization. "because i made it just fine on my own before." saying a little too rash before the guilt follows right after. great, now they're just hurting each other. "...but fine, let's walk then." she decides to just cave, leather clad arms still crossed against her chest, standing up from the bench. this going back and forth isn't going to get her there any faster, so she might as well. "it's terrible, too. because if you weren't keeping something from me, i would be inviting you in for hot chocolate tonight."

“oh,  you can read minds now,  hm?   prove it.   what am i thinking about?”   he asks,  waiting to be humored.   he tries to make the task easy for her,  taking her in,  his eyes saying what his mouth can’t…   you’re beautiful,  elena gilbert.   “that’s a reasonable explanation but these wild things aren’t always reasonable if hungry enough.”   a mountain lion in the middle of mystic falls?   that would be a sight to behold,  truly.   but it’s not wild cats that he’s worried about.   he steps beside her,  offering a small nod toward the street ahead of them.   “walking it is,”   he agrees,  voice low,  trying to hide the fact that his feelings been hurt.   “i can walk two steps behind so it looks like you’re on your own,”   he jokingly suggests,  fighting the urge to offer her his own jacket to keep her warm.   “and just for the record…   if you invited me in for hot chocolate?   i’d say yes.   i’d help you make it.   you know,  italians basically invented hot chocolate.   or so my father always told me.”   he’s pretty sure the history of hot chocolate is way more complex than that,  pretty sure some other nations had been enjoying it long before the italians,  but it doesn’t negate the fact that he makes pretty good hot chocolate himself.  

“sure, stefan.. the cute sarcastic act won't work in your favor right now.” elena dismisses, doe eyes trailing away from him in annoyance. “how else should i take it, then?” questioning sharply– something incredulous dipping in her tone, dark brows furrowing in deeper annoyance. she disagrees with him, she doesn't think she's wrong about his intent at all. “saying one nice thing doesn't erase the bad thing.” elena lectures, gaze snapped back on him, staring at his side profile. “there won't be any mountain lion.” a long sigh rolls from her, “not anywhere i'm walking.” he's acting as if she's going to take a stroll through the woods, he sounds weird and ridiculous to even attempt to say. “yeah...” half agreeing, except not really. she's just trying to figure out what to do, whether to get up now or... continue to search for option b.

“are you sure?   thought it was worth giving a try.   i mean,  you did just call it cute so…”   he trails off,  the corners of his lips twitching but never quite forming a smile.   he can’t smooth things over with a joke and a laugh,  not this time.   she wants answers.   real answers.   “i take care of you because you matter to me,  your safety matters to me.   it doesn’t mean that i see you as some weak,  dainty flower.   i know how strong you are,  elena.   but two things can be true at the same time.   i can think you’re strong and still want to protect you.   besides,  most predators don’t target groups so it’s actually safer for both of us to stick together,”   he concludes,  figuring it’s a good enough explanation and not far from truth at all.   “you’re right.   it doesn’t erase the bad thing.   nothing i say ever could.   but it works both ways.   the bad thing doesn’t make the nice one untrue.”   refusing to meet her eyes,  he can feel them fixating on him and it takes all his willpower to refrain from turning his head.   he doesn’t want to look at her and be reminded how he’s hurt her.   “did the mountain lions tell you that themselves or…   how would you know?”   a sigh of his own slips past his lips.   how can she be so sure there’s no mountain lion out there?   “what’s so terrible about me walking you home?   why are you willing to put yourself at risk just to prove to me that you’re strong and independent and don’t need me?”   he should respect her choice.   if she decides to leave on her own,  he should let her.   damon’s locked up in the basement.   but his brother is one sneaky creature…   and he may not be the only one they should be wary of.   he’s torn between accepting whatever choice she makes and following,  watching from afar,  staying in the shadows just in case.

STEFAN & ELENA 2.13 (requested)

تحب الوَرد و هي من الحُسْن وَردة

“what? oh, i’m sorry, was this seat taken? are we waiting for someone to join us?” stefan teases lightly, making no attempt at scooting or moving away, acting as though he didn’t understand the reason behind elena’s annoyance. he doesn’t want to admit it but there’s something about her, these doe-like hues growing stormy, amusing rather than scaring him, that disarms him every time. he only stops smiling to himself and lowers his gaze in shame when she reminds him that she can see right through him, that he’s been hurting her by lying, even if his intentions are good. “is that what you think i’m doing? caring for you because i see you as an incompetent, dainty airhead? if so, you’re also pretty terrible at reading people’s intentions because i see you as one of the strongest people in the world,” he insists, turning his head to the side, emeralds never leaving her face. “but that doesn’t mean i will just stop trying to keep you safe.” he genuinely doesn’t think she’s weak mentally, most people would have already given up but she keeps going, wakes up every morning and puts one foot in front of the other. physically-wise, though? she could as well be made of glass in stefan’s eyes, but he knows better than to point it out. “that doesn’t change the fact that unless you have a shotgun tucked away in this little bag,” which would be useless against the creature that’s preying on people in mystic falls anyway, “the odds of you beating up a mountain lion aren’t looking good.” but now he’s curious as to why exactly is in her bag. a pepper spray? a knife? “mhm,” he hums in defeat, biting back the comment that’s sitting at the tip of his tongue about how he actually knows her pretty well, way better than she thinks, “well, maybe i don’t but i do know that you’re not a coward, or an airhead for that matter.” nodding his head solemnly, he may be using jeremy as a distraction now but it doesn’t change the fact that he feels for the boy. he’s been through a lot and clearly isn’t coping well. “you’re a very good sister, elena. don’t ever doubt that.” he’d rest his hand on her knee in further reassurance but it seems inappropriate now that she’s rightfully angry with him. “maybe he just needs some more time or someone who isn’t family to talk to. sometimes it’s easier to open to a stranger.”