Two TVD ficlets
stainofmylove is hosting a comment ficathon, and the prompts were feeding my TVD obsession so much that I wrote two ficlets. The first one is not very spoilery, but, just to be on the safe side, let's assume they both have spoilers up to 3x03.
1. The Vampire Diaries, Tyler/Caroline, it'll seem more like a song and less like it's math if you pull on my hair and bite me like that prompted by superkappa.
You just breathe now. Just breathe.
It's simple like that: Caroline Forbes pushes him onto the bed and for a split second he is completely out of control. Just a split second, no longer; she is always so careful not to push too hard.
Caroline is well-adjusted to humans, all caring and attentive, or perhaps she is just Caroline (before he didn't know her very well) when she kisses his jaw and puts his hand on her hip. He inhales deeply and she chuckles into his skin.
She is as light as a feather, but when she pins him to the bed, Tyler can hardly move. He tries, of course ― not because he doesn't want this, but because it's just not in him to be still when someone kisses his chest. So he grabs Caroline's hair and rolls his hips, and when she starts unzipping his pants, he tenses his muscles to flip them over, even though he knows that without any kind of leverage it just won't work. There is a moment when she hesitates; loosens her grip on his shoulder and tries to move back to give him some space, but he just catches her wrist and puts her hand back where it was.
Right before Caroline starts sliding onto him, Tyler just can't help himself ― he reaches back to the nightstand and flips on the lamp, and then he sits up and cups Caroline's cheek, but she allows only a short kiss, bites his lip and pushes him to lie beneath her as she starts moving. The light is so bright Tyler can see every single vein showing around Caroline's eyes, her parted lips and messy hair, and he is so happy he acts on pure instinct, reaches up to grab her waist and holds on for dear life. Somewhere in the back of his head he hears Caroline laughing when he jerks up his hips, struggling for control.
Actually, he is pretty sure he started laughing himself.
2. The Vampire Diaries, Salvatores, I don't think that I ever loved you more / Then when you turned away / When you slammed the door, prompted by ever-neutral.
Chicago
Chicago is all lights, and jazz, and liquor, and, God, he never wanted to go anywhere else.
There are songs in his ears and blood on his cheek, his shoes covered with mud of the brave, new world. Coming back from Europe has never felt so good; Europe is nothing now, empty places and pale dolls with wooden limbs and glass eyes. He really should've known better that to go there, again; Damon Salvatore, a master of choosing the worst possible time. Chicago is different, full of sounds and tastes; Chicago has texture.
He gets out of the car, and his head is still spinning just a little. He can live with that (finally, he can live). The girl singing in the bar is ridiculously exotic; he still didn't get use to this new fashion, to short skirts and noisy trumpets, but it's good. He's spent the last sixty years running away from all the things he was used to.
He sits at the table in the corner, well-hidden and quite peaceful. He didn't exactly plan coming here, but it's a bar as good as any other, so why not? After all, there aren't that many places where you can get good liquor. Prohibition sounds just like an idea Father could've had, had he lived long enough. Damon tries to shake this thought off his head ― it sounds all to familiar.
Europe was a horrible place, so Damon gave up on Europe and came to Chicago for fun, and jazz, and whisky. He gets his glass and moves smoothly around the dancing people; he wants to cover himself with this city, get mud on the cuffs of his trousers and blood on the cuffs of his shirt, it's simple like that. When Gloria starts singing and all the eyes focus on her for a second, Damon sinks into his chair and doesn't notice even a hint of a familiar face in the crowd.
He so doesn't.
1. The Vampire Diaries, Tyler/Caroline, it'll seem more like a song and less like it's math if you pull on my hair and bite me like that prompted by superkappa.
You just breathe now. Just breathe.
It's simple like that: Caroline Forbes pushes him onto the bed and for a split second he is completely out of control. Just a split second, no longer; she is always so careful not to push too hard.
Caroline is well-adjusted to humans, all caring and attentive, or perhaps she is just Caroline (before he didn't know her very well) when she kisses his jaw and puts his hand on her hip. He inhales deeply and she chuckles into his skin.
She is as light as a feather, but when she pins him to the bed, Tyler can hardly move. He tries, of course ― not because he doesn't want this, but because it's just not in him to be still when someone kisses his chest. So he grabs Caroline's hair and rolls his hips, and when she starts unzipping his pants, he tenses his muscles to flip them over, even though he knows that without any kind of leverage it just won't work. There is a moment when she hesitates; loosens her grip on his shoulder and tries to move back to give him some space, but he just catches her wrist and puts her hand back where it was.
Right before Caroline starts sliding onto him, Tyler just can't help himself ― he reaches back to the nightstand and flips on the lamp, and then he sits up and cups Caroline's cheek, but she allows only a short kiss, bites his lip and pushes him to lie beneath her as she starts moving. The light is so bright Tyler can see every single vein showing around Caroline's eyes, her parted lips and messy hair, and he is so happy he acts on pure instinct, reaches up to grab her waist and holds on for dear life. Somewhere in the back of his head he hears Caroline laughing when he jerks up his hips, struggling for control.
Actually, he is pretty sure he started laughing himself.
2. The Vampire Diaries, Salvatores, I don't think that I ever loved you more / Then when you turned away / When you slammed the door, prompted by ever-neutral.
Chicago
Chicago is all lights, and jazz, and liquor, and, God, he never wanted to go anywhere else.
There are songs in his ears and blood on his cheek, his shoes covered with mud of the brave, new world. Coming back from Europe has never felt so good; Europe is nothing now, empty places and pale dolls with wooden limbs and glass eyes. He really should've known better that to go there, again; Damon Salvatore, a master of choosing the worst possible time. Chicago is different, full of sounds and tastes; Chicago has texture.
He gets out of the car, and his head is still spinning just a little. He can live with that (finally, he can live). The girl singing in the bar is ridiculously exotic; he still didn't get use to this new fashion, to short skirts and noisy trumpets, but it's good. He's spent the last sixty years running away from all the things he was used to.
He sits at the table in the corner, well-hidden and quite peaceful. He didn't exactly plan coming here, but it's a bar as good as any other, so why not? After all, there aren't that many places where you can get good liquor. Prohibition sounds just like an idea Father could've had, had he lived long enough. Damon tries to shake this thought off his head ― it sounds all to familiar.
Europe was a horrible place, so Damon gave up on Europe and came to Chicago for fun, and jazz, and whisky. He gets his glass and moves smoothly around the dancing people; he wants to cover himself with this city, get mud on the cuffs of his trousers and blood on the cuffs of his shirt, it's simple like that. When Gloria starts singing and all the eyes focus on her for a second, Damon sinks into his chair and doesn't notice even a hint of a familiar face in the crowd.
He so doesn't.