#david g my trust | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

charliehoennam · 1 year ago

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Aww I love your writing so much!!!! 🩷🩷 The detective Loki A-Z felt so accurate 🥹 he’s so precious. Can you write something that kind of goes off the jealousy area? Like it’s a coworker who reader gets close with and is honestly clueless to the flirting?

F o r g i v e n

a/n: here you go, nonny! i couldn't agree more. David is my baby and he deserves some happiness and a warm hug

pairing: Detective David Loki x reader

summary: a new co-worker makes a misguided move on the reader and david gets pissed

warnings: language, angst, arguing (if i missed one, lemme know. minors, do not interact!)

SHARING IS CARING, SO PLEASE REBLOG

Sliding your legs over the edge of your side of the bed, you sit up and rub the sleep from your eyes. David’s on the phone with O’Malley. You already know he’s gotta go into work today.

“Yeah, I’ll be there in 30 tops” he says lowly in his gravely morning voice before hanging up his cell phone.

“I’ll make breakfast” you smile sleepily at him.

You reach out to reassuringly squeeze his arm to let him know it’s alright. He’s already mentally beating himself up for waking you up and not being able to be enjoy his morning off with you as he had promised.

You make your way through the one-story house and head to the kitchen to get his coffee going. You decide on making a hearty breakfast because you know very well David will skip lunch today.

So, you settle for a nice egg, bacon, and cheese sandwich on toasted bagels with cream cheese. You make two for him so he can take one to work and hopefully eat while he’s on the road. You even cut up some bananas, apples, strawberries and oranges to make a little fruit salad.

David isn’t the healthiest guy around, but he deeply appreciates that you care for him and his health. He never really had anyone to care about him – much less his health – so he’ll sure make to eat every bite.

You hear his electric razor shut off after his shower. A while later, he comes into the kitchen with his hair slicked back. His light blue button-up shirt is open, exposing his white sleeveless undershirt. His gold chain dangles and dances around his neck as he buttons the cuffs of his shirt.

You can’t help but smile to yourself. You wish you could stop him and slide his button-up off. You love it when he wears his undershirt and chain around the house.

“Honey, think you can get a ride to work today?” he asks kissing the back of your head as you slice up the fruit.

“Yeah, babe. It’s no problem. I already texted Jared and asked him to pick me up.”

His hands working the buttons closed on his front stop as his eyes narrow in on the back of your head.

“Jared? You already texted him?”

“Yeah. I figured you’d leave before me.”

“Oh…”

You know that there’s something he’s holding back from you. You turn your head to glance at him, hoping to get a read of him as you slide the chopped-up fruit in a container.

“Is there a problem with that?”

You already know the answer to that.

“No. Nothing. Just didn’t know you and Jared were so close already. I mean, didn’t he just start there like two weeks ago?”

His eyebrows rise and his lip press flat as he looks down at his hands, letting them finish their work on his shirt.

“Two months ago, but he was pretty much on his own, so I figured I’d be the first to befriend him. The first weeks are the worst when you start working at a new place.”

“Yeah, I get that. Just didn’t think you were already texting each other.”

“Dave, there’s nothing going on between us if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t have to. Your face says it all.”

You’re slightly hurt that he would think there could be something brewinh between you and Jared. It may come from a place of worry, but isn't that trust is for?

“Look, I gotta get going. I’ll see you tonight.”

You nod as you hand him the containers of sandwiches and his travel mug. He leaves you with a kiss on your forehead and you watch him leave, letting the tension hang in the air. You try to put it on the mental backburner as you head up to get ready for your day.

Hearing a honk coming from outside, you look out the window and confirm Jared’s arrival. You grab your bag, keys and phone before heading out the door and walking to Jared’s car.

“Hey, Jare. Thanks for the late-notice lift. David got called in and my car’s still at the shop.”

“You know I don’t mind it at all. It’s been almost a couple days though. Have they given you any updates on it?”

“Something about the starting motor failing. Solenoid damage, I think? They have to replace some coils or some shit.”

“That shouldn’t take more than a few hours to replace though.”

“David says the same thing. He’s getting pretty impatient. Said he’s gonna stop by there today to check up. You know how some mechanics can be when they see a girl with car trouble.” You complete with a roll of your eyes.

“Yeah, some pricks take advantages. I know a thing or two about cars. I’d be happy to look into it for you if you want?”

“Really? Yeah, yeah. That’d be great. I’m gonna wait for David though. He said he’d stop by there today. I’ll give you a heads up though.”

After arriving to work, you head straight for your sector to settle in. You can’t help but notice how kind Jared seems to be towards you in this new light that David casted earlier in the morning.

Jared always offers to refill your water bottle whenever he gets up, always offers snacks, brings you back your favorite coffee or tea after his breaks, compliments your hair or nails or even your perfume. During the whole day, you can’t help but notice he doesn’t treat his other co-workers the same. You begin to wonder if you’ve led him on to believe you’re more than just co-workers or if it’s because he’s new and not very close to the others.

You decide to shake the thought from your head and go on about your work. However, with this new concept in the back of your mind, you start to politely deny Jared’s kind offers. He doesn’t seem hurt by it. A small wave of relief washes over you. Maybe you were just in over your head and overthinking what David had told you.

Around closing time, Jared stops by your station to check if you need a ride home. You check your phone, hoping David texted you with a reply about picking you up, but there’s no new messages.

Your heart sinks a bit. You’d hoped he could’ve at least replied. Is he really that upset with you?

“Yeah, I could use a ride.”

The house isn’t very far. You could walk home, but the rain is already pouring down heavy. And this time of year, the cold winter air is starting to arrive, slickening the streets and sidewalks with ice.

You smile to hide that you wished you didn’t need a ride from Jared. You know it’s not gonna make things easier to deal with at home.

Part of you thinks David is acting ridiculously like a child that's too selfish to share a toy. Only you’re not a toy. You’re a human being and you’re his fiancée. You’re supposed to be getting married.

The other part of you wonders how you would feel if it were the other way around. If he had a new partner on the job and spent hours with her. With everything Jared does for you, would you be ok with someone else treating David the same way?

Trying to settle the internal dispute, you remember that it’s your intentions that really counts. You’re not breaking his trust because you have no intention of getting with Jared. You’re friends and that’s all there is. And you would want David to have a good friend too in your situation.

You walk out together, gabbling on about the day as you climb into his car.

As Jared turns onto your street, you’re laughing over an amusing situation you’d survived in your first week at the company with an unsatisfied client. Jared had had his first unpleasant interaction with a frustrated client. Although he handled it pretty well, he was still a bit disappointed about it.

Grateful the rain has let up, you notice Dave’s car parked in the driveway. Why didn’t he at least text you back if he was home? You feel a slight pang in your chest, but you shove it down as you continue your conversation. Jared knows your line of though has been thrown off and he can only guess it has to do with the black Crown Victoria perched in front of the garage.

“It can happen to anyone,” you say looking up at the tall brown-haired co-worker as he turns the car off, parking in front of your house. You hear a door close from outside and keys jingling, but you don’t think much of it. Most of your neighbors get home at this time as well.

“You can’t please everybody and you have to accept that,” you resume looking down at the dashboard. “You’re not here to please, you’re here to do your job.”

“You’re an amazing person, you know that?”

Something is different about the way Jared is looking at you. It’s intense and you don’t like it.

He leans over the arm rest/storage compartment separating the front seats and places a surprising kiss on your cheek.

You quick react by pulling yourself back and gently push him away with a hand on his shoulder.

“Whoa, Jared. That’s sweet, but i-it’s not like that. We’re just friends. You realize that, right?” you ask frowning at him. “I’m happily engaged.”

“Y-yeah... I figured. I thought I-I’d shoot my shot. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.” He looks down embarrassed as his cheeks blush a bright regretful shade of red. “I misread things. I’m sorry. That’s on me. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s fine. Just… Don’t do that again, alright?”

“Yeah. Definitely will not” he chuckles nervously. “It won’t happen again. I promise. Just like you said, we’re only friends.”

You’re not really sure how to react. You can tell he feels really awkward about the whole thing, but you just want to get out of there as quickly as possible.

Flashing a shy, nervous smile at him, you thank him for the ride and climb out of the car. You slowly walk up the concrete path, digging through you bag for your keys.

Upon finding them, you look up and freeze.

David is standing in the path, glaring at the young man in the car. As he keeps his furious gaze locked on Jared, his hands move to rest on his hip. Pushing back his black winter jacket, his gold badge and his standard issue gun are exposed to remind Jared of who he is.

You don’t realize it’s a non-verbal threat. You just think he’s pissed judging by the constant hard blinking of his eyes.

“David, it’s not what you th-“ you start only to be cut off.

“In the house. Right now.”

He has a point. This isn’t a topic to discuss outside for all your neighbors to hear.

You walk quietly past him and march up the porch. You leave the door open for him, but he’s not far behind you. Only a couple moments since he’d been staring Jared down until he finally drove away.

The door slams as he enters the house.

“Are you fucking serious? There’s nothing going on, right?” He asks loudly and angrily.

“Yes, there’s nothing going on, Dave.” You say trying to stay calm, unwilling to match his tone. You’d be angry too in his place.

“You expect me to believe that after what I just saw?!”

“Yes, because that’s the truth. I know how that looked like. He thought I was sending him signs of interest. I won’t lie about that. But I didn’t want him to do that. There is absolutely no interest on my behalf!”

“The fucking chicken hawk just kissed you!”

“I didn’t want him to! I told him that! Maybe if you had picked me up from work or at least fucking texted me back, I wouldn’t have gotten in that fucking car in the first place!” you seethe at him.

“Oh, so this is my fault??” he snaps back at you bewildered.

He opens his mouth to speak, but just in that same moment, his cell phone rings. A hushed ‘fuck’ escapes from his lips as he answers the call. You just roll your eyes and fold your arm across your chest because you already know what that means.

The conversation is quick. You can’t tell much; all you know is that Captain O’Malley is calling him into the station.

“We’re not done on this”, he says with a raised finger in your direction and opens the door behind him.

The door slams shut. You close your eyes and lean against the wall, wishing you had never gotten in that car.

Dragging your tired body up the stairs, you make your way to your room. You notice the comforter is rumpled on David’s side along with his pillows. It’s not as you had it in the morning; it was neat and made to look inviting. You sigh and run a hand through your hair. Now you know why he didn’t answer you at first; he had fallen asleep.

You set your bag atop of the dresser that you share. You dig out your phone to set it to charge. There’re a couple unread messages and 2 missed calls; all from David and right around the time you’d left work.

Sorry, babe. Fell asleep and just woke up.

On my way right now!

You feel guilty thinking about how you could’ve avoided the whole ordeal. Now, David is mad at you and you’re mad at him for thinking that you wanted Jared to kiss you.

You head into the ensuite bathroom to shower and let the water wash away the stress of your day. As the warm water pours over you, you just hope this isn’t what ends your relationship.

Once you’re cleaned and a bit more relaxed, you go about the house to start on some of the chores. Deciding on a simple, quick and easy dinner, you sit on the couch to eat by yourself.

It’s been hours since David’s left and you miss him. You just want him to come home, so you can tell him how much you miss and love him.

You look down at your phone. He read your “I’m sorry” text, but he hasn’t replied. You wonder if it’s because he’s busy or he just doesn’t want to talk to you.

Wanting to stay up and wait for him, you start on the dirty dishes and pots in the kitchen. Then the laundry. You can’t stay still. It bothers you too much and you have to stay awake. There’s nothing left to do around the house, so you plot back down on the couch and surf through the channels to try to find something to watch.

It’s around midnight when you hear his car pull into the driveway. You race to the window to look out and make sure it’s him. He looks tired as he approaches the house with his keys in hand. His shoulders are hunched from the weight of the day’s stress.

You stand by the window and watch as he drags himself inside. He closes the door and hangs up his jacket before kicking his boots off. His back is turned to you and he hasn’t seen you yet.

When he does, he gazes at you for a moment. He’s too tired to argue, but he loves the fact that you’re wearing his sweater.

“You hungry? I made dinner. I can make you a plate,” you say softly breaking the silence.

“Yeah, I could eat.”

It’s quiet between you both. It’s a moment of cease fire. The elephant is still in the room, but you know how his weighs heavily on him. Especially with the case he’s working on. You don’t know much about it. David likes to keep that away from you. All you know is what you heard on the news and that there are kids involved. Those types of cases hit too close to home for him.

You leave him to eat in peace and tell him that you’re heading up to bed.

Assuming he’ll sleep on the couch since he must be upset still, you head to the bathroom to have a final tinkle before bed and brush your teeth. You crawl into bed and hug your pillow as you stare at the wall, luminated only by the fluorescent orange light of the street lamps.

Tears prick your eyes. You hate this distance between you and him. It’s ridiculous, but you know it’s not the time for it.

You hear David’s footsteps coming up the stairs and down the hall. The door creaks as he walks into the bedroom.

He goes about his usual routine; set his ring and chain on top of the dresser along with his badge. Then he walks over to the nightstand to open the drawer there. He pulls his gun from it's holster and makes sure its' safety is on. He had set it before already, but it never hurt to double check.

Soon after setting the gun in the lockbox within the drawer, he quietly makes his way to the bathroom. He opens the squeaky faucet and water pours from the shower.

He doesn’t take long. It’s a quick shower to wash his hair and body. He’s too tired to do more than he has to.

You hear him come into the room to grab a pair of boxers from his drawers. He seems quiet and still. Though your back is turned to him, you feel his eyes on you.

He stands still, hands on the wooden dresser as he mentally contemplates what to do. He knows it wasn’t your fault. He knows it wasn’t you who kissed Jared. He saw you pull away and push him back. He knows you didn’t like it or expect it just as much as him.

His head drops and his eyes close. In truth, the time at work had kept him too busy to think about it much, but he did think about you. Part of him felt you were like a victim, caught up in the crime with no fault. The other part of him wondered what could have happened to influence Jared to kiss you.

With a heavy sigh, you sense his footsteps approaching the bed. You expect to feel the wool blanket at the foot of the bed slide off along with his pillow.

To your surprise, you feel the comforter lifts behind you allowing a cool breeze to creep onto your back. Your heart beats faster. The mattress dips with his heavy frame. And you feel an arm drape over your waist.

“You awake?” His voice is a whisper in the dark.

You reply with a nod. You don’t want him to see you’re crying, though you know it’s inevitable.

“Can we talk?”

You quickly wipe your eyes in an attempt to omit the evidence of your pain. Turning onto your other side, you’re face to face. His hand doesn’t leave your waist. You let him slide underneath your shirt to feel your warmth.

“I don’t wanna fight. I don’t wanna argue,” he starts.

“Neither do I, Dave.” Your voice is soft as you reach to tenderly hold his bicep. You want to pull him close and hold him forever, but that might be too much.

“Are you really happy being with me?”

Your heart breaks to think that he feels like you might not be happy with him. You open your mouth to answer him, desperate to chase away his fear, but he continues.

“I know I’m not the best partner. I know for sure I haven’t been in the past. In some relationships, I didn’t even try to be. But I’m trying, sweetheart. I’m trying real hard because I love you and I want to be with you. I don’t know if it’s enou-“

You can’t listen to him anymore.

“Listen to me, Dave. I love you. You are more than enough for me and you make me the happiest in the world. And that’s enough for me. I’m not going anywhere.”

“You sure about that?” he asks with pleading eyes.

“Yeah, I’m sure. Jared is just a dude I felt bad for at work. I was just trying to be a friend, that’s all. But he misread my intentions. That’s it, that’s all that happened. And I’m gonna distance myself from him because I don’t want him to get the wrong idea.”

David feels relieved to hear your solution. He didn’t want risk sounding like a possessive jerk and ask you to not talk to Jared anymore, but he likes that you’re willing to make that change willingly for the sake of your relationship.

After all, he can’t be surprised someone else would want to have you. The minute he met you, he wanted you for himself as well. He’s just lucky he got to have his chance before anyone did.

He smiles tiredly at you and closes his eyes as he rests his forehead against yours.

“Think you can forgive me for being a dick earlier? I shouldn’t have yelled at you like that.”

“I don’t know. You might just have to make it up to me” you tease with a playful smirk, getting a low chuckle out of him.

“Whatever you want. Just name it.”

#david loki #david loki imagine #david loki prisoners #detective david loki #david loki x reader #david loki x y/n #david loki x you #prisoners #jake gyllenhaal

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hyperfixatedoncrimminalminds · 2 years ago

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David Rossi x Deaf daughter reader

Summary: Rossi has to take his daughter to his work, but the team start tlaking to ber but of course she deaf so she can't hear them so she starts using ASL to talk but none of them understand her until Rossi walks in (they all thought she was rude)

I love this idea!

Third person pov...

Y/N Rossi loves her Dad, really she does but sometimes the Italian surprises her sometimes, such as now.

The teenager stares at her Dad with a deadpan look, Rossi rolls his eyes. 'Don't give me that look, come on It will be nice for you to finally meet them' signs Dave as his daughters face doesn't change.

So Dave changes his approach. 'Please Pumpkin for me' he signs, the Italian couldn't believe he was literally begging his teenage daughter to come meet his new team at work.

A man of his age doing this who would of thought, Y/N continues staring at her Dad before sighing softly giving up, She watches as her Dad cheers ans claps his hands.

The Agent then walks around the kitchen isle and hugs his daughter tightly kissing her cheeks with a smile Y/N relented and hugged him back jsut as tightly.

When her Dads pulled back he started signing again. 'Thank you sweetie, arw you ready to go?' He asks her, Y/N thinks for a moment before nodding.

'Let's go!' Sighs Dave before Him and Y/N walk out of the door and into the car. "I can't believe I let you do this' signs the teenager crossing her arms.

Her Dad smiles and signs back. 'Because you know you want to meet them too' He signs as his teenager pouted, Dave continues smiling whole drive to his work.

Timeskip...

Once they arrive Y/N is nervous, she is nervous as hell. Even her Dad could tell she was nervous.

The Dad ruffles his daughters hair playfully making the girl smile and look up at him. 'They will love you Honey, don't worry' he promised, Y/N smiled she knew she could trust her Dad.

Taking a deep breath Y/N got out if the car, Rossi lookedat how grown up his daughter was and smile like a proud papa bear.

He locked the doors and wrapped an arm around Y/N who welcomed the familiar touch, the two Italians the make their way into the building and into the elevator.

'Almost there' signs Dave letting his daughter know it was almost time.

Y/N squares her shoulders and walks Confidently out of the elevator and onto the floor, Dave holds her hand and walks the teenager into the bullpen where the others were talking and laughing.

Y/N looks around at everything around her wanting to look at everything, As they walked closer to a group of familiar looking people. Y/n had seen a picture of everyone before and heard all thr stories from her Dad.

"Children! Settle down children" Yelled Dave successfully getting everyone to shut up. Four of them glared at Rossi but soon turned into laughter, it must be a usual greeting for them.

"Guys I want to introduce you all to my Daughter Y/N, Y/N this Is everyone" Rossi introduces turning to face hid daughter when he spoke.

The deaf teen can read lips but not that well, she is better at sign language. Seeing the confusion on her face Dave discreetly signs what he said to them, Y/N nods her head. "Hi im Y/N" she says softly the teen gets smiles from the team.

A blonde woman shoves the tall black man forward, the man holds his hand out to Y/N , Y/N takes it with a smile. she then shakes everyone else's hands. "nice to finally meet the daughter Dave is so proud off" says the intimidating man, this made Dave glare at him.

Y/N let out at laugh she understood some off what he said. Rossi watches as his daughter bonds with his team, then he feels his phone off, of course its his editior. he answers the call and taps Y/Ns shoulder getting her attention.

the older man then signs something to her which the teen understands. "go i'll be fine" she whispers to him, Her dad smiles and kisses her forehead before leaving.

The teen then actually looked at the room around her, she then saw her dads office, he said she could sit in there if it all got to much for her, As the girl was looking around the others were trying to get her attention but it was like she couldn't hear them.

"How about we show you around?" questions Emily, but the girl acts like she didnt hear her, Derek then tries but like Emily was ignored, the man was getting a bit pissed off with her. "of course she behaves when Daddy is here, but once he leaves shes completely different" Says the tall man.

He looks over at the giel for a hint of her hearing them, once again nothing. "my turn" says Emily, she then reaches forward, behind her she can hear Spencer shout something but she didnt hear him.

what happened next what almost in slow motion, Emily touches the back of Y/Ns hand, this made the teen flinch, she yanked hard and Emily let go, her breathing became heavy she was almost hyperventilating.

Wider E/C eyes darted around like she was a terrifed prey watching its predator for its next move, the team freeze in the actually fear in her eyes. The teen backs away from the six adults holding her hand.

Suddenly her hands begin flying around at a rapid pace. 'wheres my dad? why isnt he back yet' 'please dont touch me' 'im deaf sorry i cant hear you' suddenly Spencer gasps, he understands why she was acting like that.

As he looks at Y/N she looked as if she was about to have a panic attack so the youngest member pulled the others attention to him, this helped Y/N calm down a little, while they were distracted Y/N took this as a chance to run to saftey.

The teen turned and ran up the ramp to the second floor and straight into her dads office, the girl begins pacing around the room in anxious circles, why did she react like that she hadnt had a bad reaction like that in years.

Years ago when the girl was first learning to sign, she got startled all the time because she obviously couldn't hear anything, at the start her Dad had to turn the lights on and off before he went into a room so he didn't scare Y/N.

over the years she got better and now recognises when her Dad touches her hand, she knows it him and feels safe. right now all she wanted was her Dad, tired of pacing the teen leans against the wall and crouches down crying into her arms.

Back with the team Spencer was telling them about his theory. "guys i think i know why she was acting like that" he says making them all look at him. "then tell us pretty boy!" yells Derek.

"i think she is deaf, before you say anything think about it about how she was acting, when Hotch was talking she was watching his lips and when Rossi used his hands instead of speaking to her when he left, it all makes sense" he tells them, it was silent before guilt settled on them like a rock.

"shittt" mutters Emily, now she felt guilty for touching her know wonder she was so scared. As the team were feeling guilty they didnt notice Rossi had returned until the elder man spoke. "hey guys wheres Y/N?" he asks them, they all turn to the man with guilty expressions.

he raises an eyebrow "did something happen?" he asked, Hotch then told him what happened. "shit, i completely forgot, yes Y/N is deaf and uses Sign language to talk, i complete forgot to tell you all" Explains Rossi before the dad runs to his office, he opens the door with one hand and flicks the light.

As he walked further in he saw a scene that broke his heart, his baby girl was curled up on his floor crying her eyes out, he hasnt seen her cry this much since she was a kid, "oh mia bambina" he whispers before kneeling next to his daughter and pulling her into a hug.

They stayed like that until Y/N was ready to face the team again.

the end!

hope you liked this oneshot, i didnt know what else to put sorry if it isnt as great as my other ones. as usual so sorry for spelling and grammar mistakes.

request are open!

word count: 1486

#criminal minds #fanfic #behavioural analysis unit #x child reader #fluff and comfort #light angst #x daughter!reader #father daughter fluff #oneshot #david rossi #david rossi x daughter reader #david rossi x child reader #x teen!reader #deaf #deaf reader

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itspileofgoodthings · 19 days ago

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anyway I don’t have the whole Jordan Peterson dating propaganda rebuttal fully locked and loaded but basically it’s just never about statistics. never was, never will be. and I’ll say that while acknowledging that the statistics can be objectively bad, especially for certain specific sub-groups, people with strong and specific convictions, highly intelligent people etc. but it doesn’t matter because the fundamental truth is that it’s always “one in a million the chances of feeling the way we do” etc. etc. and always was?? things are hard right now, on the dating scene, because life is hard right now and it’s hard to make money and find a stable situation that makes you happy. things are extra hard because society is incredibly fractured on the basis of both belief and vibes (lol) so the odds of finding someone just out in the great wide world of indiscriminate datings apps who’s going to believe what you believe and have the same set of cultural values (if that’s the word I want) are incredibly low. It’s not going to happen! And if you’re out looking you’re going to run into those obstacles over and over and over. But it kind of doesn’t matter? Because love is still real, people can still feel it, God brings people together. And I actually don’t think you need to do anything except continue living your life and doing things because they’re good for you, if and when you can, like having as much of a social life as you can and is feasible. The rest, in my humble opinion, is out of your control and you should just let it go! Yeah we’d have an easier time if our culture was more unified, if we fundamentally believed the same things and shared the same values. But even then the stars aligning of it all in terms of liking each other and wanting the same things and being in the same place and communicating in a way where we can actually understand each other is just out of our control and the answer is trust, love, and patience. And also a willingness to accept that you might just be alone, romantically speaking. So start filling your life up with other things and start getting used to the burden of it. Because what is there else to do? Except NOT accepting it and growing increasingly desperate. In any case, and to return to my point, this is my answer to the fundamental lie of the Peterson dating discussions. And it’s just that statistics have nothing to do with ANYTHING when it comes to finding love and happiness. It is never statistical; it’s always beyond that. My parents’ love story, my friends’ love stories, coworkers love stories—it can’t be quantified because they did x. On some level it just happened to them. They were lucky enough to find it all. (Or you know they forced it and are now unhappily married. Happens a LOT. But presuming that we’re talking about ending up happy.)

AND.

ON ANOTHER NOTE (that is still sort of related)

That same study of statistics doesn’t apply because it only takes one. So his whole tired repeated take about how intelligent women have the hardest time finding husbands because men are scared of their intelligence? Might even be true! But it doesn’t MATTER because nobody should want to marry everybody! If that makes sense! It’s always personal. I have felt the fear/lack of interest that he’s talking about as an intelligent woman (hey-oh!) walking through this world and I don’t give a damn because a man being afraid of me is proof that he is not FOR me. He is like my students except that I am not in the position to take him by the hand, metaphorically speaking, and walk him through David Copperfield. If someone ever wants to marry me, they will be delighted by me and confident that they have something to offer me. Period. And I used to think that that was true only for me but I think it is and should be true for everyone!!!! Peterson might be even stating something true or at least COMMON when he talks about this fear but his fundamental premise is faulty a) because we never have to marry a whole group of people and b) Because he acts like this is a problem for people, specifically women, to wrestle with and it just isn’t. There is nothing to do WITH the problem. As far as our list of actionable items goes it doesn’t make the cut. Or close to it. It doesn’t matter because that lack of interest and fear is not something to be engaged with and “solved.” Literally: go with God. Yeah, maybe you get your hopes up or get hurt because you think there is a chance and then turns out there wasn’t. That sucks and is painful! But. There is still nothing to do with that except move on. A person interested in me (in you, in anyone) would not react in this way is what you gotta tell yourself. It’s just a sign it isn’t right; it’s clear communication from the universe. (The person, God’s Plan etc.)

And. This isn’t even getting into him saying things like “the average age gap between men and women who marry is 4 years” for no clear apparent reason. So the fuck what Jordan? What does this have to do with anything??? (Sorry for swearing.) Yeah I can believe in some circles that’s a common number that occurs. I also know lots of people who are not in fact four years apart. I am actually having trouble thinking of a married couple i currently know who are four years apart. Like. So. What is even being said????!??? What is the purpose behind it????? Except an attempt to fear-monger, spread a lack of hope, sow discord. But honestly sometimes I think he’s just yapping.

He’ll also contradict himself by saying things like “you only have five people to try on statistically speaking” (the hell??? Jordan???) “so choose wisely” while also saying things like “a relationship isn’t something you find, it’s something you build.” So like … which is it? Because I think solemnly choosing someone in this objective way and trying to settle into building a relationship is going to lead to a lot of needless frustration. Like. You can’t build a relationship, IMO, until the opportunity to do so appears. And feels right to both of you. And you both take it. And you cannot manufacture that, force it into existence, call it into being. I mean you can TRY. But it won’t end well. The happy right comfortable good ones are just times where the opportunity is given and both people want to take it. He won’t admit the role of grace here and I think the role of grace is everythinggggg. And this Not even getting into him referring to marriage as being handcuffed to a person and unable to walk away which is imo the wrong vibe.

Which is kinda my too-long point. It’s the wrong vibe. Things are not bleak if you look at them right. They just are what they are. I actually think the more specific of a person you are the more likely you are to find someone capable of making you happy. And yeah maybe that process will be easier for people who are younger and just sort of around people who share the same values as them etc. though even then, even !!!!! then !!!!!!!!! there’s a mystery to who finds someone and who doesn’t at certain times because you’re dealing with the human soul and free will and all its mysteries in addition to everything else. It’s always kind of a miracle. It’s always one in a million. It’s always specific, singular, personal. And once again: we desperately want to believe that there is something we can do about this to bring it about and I guess there might be, indirectly. But we can never manufacture the opportunity into existence, or study the problem away, or analyze the difficulties out of being and into our power. We just need to let it go, if we can. Jordan’s rhetoric preys on that fear in a ridiculous and ultimately contradictory way and I hate to see people believing it, being affected by it, quoting it, spouting it, internalizing it. In conclusion he can’t scare me but he can deeply annoy me. Thanks for coming to my ted talk.

#making this unrebloggable yayyyyyyyy #anyways maybe this is useful or interesting maybe not but I feel it so here it is #if you don’t know Jordan Peterson this won’t #make sense. but in which case count yourself lucky #have a great day sorry for the typos #I am hovering near my main point and haven’t #quite gotten there. but I’m dancing around it. so here ya go

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wisteriagoesvroom · 10 months ago

Note

hello hello! Are you still doing fluffy prompts? If so may I please ask for cuddling in a bathtub or something?

I'm not annoning I have no shame or dignity left

so your idea spurred another idea. it is tangential, but i hope it still delivers on the Soft Vibes. thank u for prompting 🫂

don't take too much (off of me)

📝 1.3k words 💟 lestappen 🟢 rated G 🔗 also on ao3

“Stop moving.”

“I’m not.”

Charles twirls the scissors between two fingers, hoping that his posture is authoritative enough that Max will quit squirming in his chair. They are in the middle of lockdown and neither is sure when their tentative friendship turned into this – at first it was innocuous knocks on the door to play FIFA, then it was to borrow a jar of pesto here and there. Then, trampling into each other’s apartments. Max knowing to wipe his shoes on the carpet, Charles helping pick up cat food on his regular run to the grocery store (in line with lockdown mandates, they’re only allowed to go to the store twice a week.)

And now they are here. Max sitting on a dining room chair, leaning back, a makeshift cowl around his shoulders that Charles had stolen from his maman’s salon. Max tries not to twitch or move, knowing that the process of hair cutting is a delicate process. Sure, he has sat for a haircut many times before, but never under the hands of this erratic ball of energy that is Charles Leclerc, who is currently brandishing a blade like a child would a spork.

“Do you trust me, or not?” Charles says. Indignant.

“I’m here, am I not?”

“Unhappily, it seems.”

“Kerel. You have wavy hair. You look like a Disney prince. Me? One wrong move of the scissors and there will be memes in my name.”

“But it’s kind of fun when they are making the memes about you. No?”

Max glowers. “It is when they’re nice ones.”

Charles makes a noise between a snort and a guffaw. Charles perched on a stool behind him, so he can’t see the other man’s expression. But when Max looks to the corner of his living room, Max can see Charles’s face in the reflection there. Just a sliver of his face, in profile. Max expects to find Charles’s eyes crinkled, maybe teasing. Max is used to it, after all. Being the an easy target, a convenient villain. Because a lion never roars back. Not outside of the track, anyway. Even if he sometimes hides in his apartment with his cats and licks his wounds instead.

Max’s shoulders tense, hackles up. But Charles’s eyes are very soft. The punchline never comes.

“Well. I think you very handsome, Maximilian.” Charles says.

Oh. Max’s throat bobs. He doesn’t really know what to say. He’s been called many things in the past. Handsome isn’t necessarily one of them. And somehow it has a greater weight, a different bearing, when it comes from Charles. Because Charles is someone he’s begun to acknowledge that he cares about, perhaps a great deal.

“And now! We are doing the short at the sides and long at the top, oui?” Charles says. Snapping straighter in his makeshift hairdresser’s stool, energy whipping through him like lightning. Changing the topic as if he hadn’t just confessed to Max the very same thing that Max has been thinking about Charles for weeks – or if he’s honest – years, now.

“Whatever you do, make sure it’s tidy, yeah?”

“Come on mate. I am always careful.”

“Like you were when you drove into the Copse wall.”

“That was an isolated incident. Due to a combination of unexpected mechanical factors.”

“Pfft. Okay. Save that response for Sky.”

“You’re nearly as annoying as them, sometimes.” Charles says, frown gentle before he lifts the scissors again.

Comfortably back in their banter-y element, the chatter continues. Charles is careful about his work, the blades moving slowly and carefully. And what Charles lacks in finesse he makes up for in social skills, clearly inheriting this from his parents. Talking and filling the silence comfortably, wandering from topics as diverse as sailing on the Monaco coastline, to David Guetta’s recent bizarre fundraiser video, to the latest model of automatic cat feeder that has become available on the market. Charles’s fingers brush his jaw occasionally to adjust the angle, scissors glinting in the afternoon sun. Max deliberately avoids eye contact, only glimpsing at him occasionally to share a laugh.

At the end, Charles uses a towel to brush the loose hair off Max’s neck. They both get up to stand at Max’s living room mirror, surveying Charles’s handiwork. Their reflections loom large, shoulder to shoulder at the same height. Besides, Max isn’t really looking at himself, and neither is Charles, either.

“It’s good, yes?” Charles says. Low, conspiratorial.

Max’s grip tightens on the towel that he’s holding. His pulse etches up. The whole afternoon has been gentle touch, contact that aches because the pandemic has made him even more pathetically wanting than usual. Contact that he’s been trying very hard not to think about or keep for more nefarious purposes later.

The other man's gaze is warm in the mirror. Max thinks of fresh cut grass at Imola, his favourite corner in Silverstone.

“Yes.” Max says. It’s good. The haircut, him, them. This strange rhythm they’ve found together. The quiet space of each other’s apartment, each other’s company, temporarily safe from the world. The trust offered to one another: enough to let them run you into gravel and trust that it was worth the fight. Enough to hold a blade in your hand and only let one other person in the world come near you with it. Risk, and promise.

Then he’s turning towards Charles. Charles mirroring him. The light is bright and the sky blue in the window, but all Max can see for a moment is Charles’s face, his half open mouth ripe like a plum. The scent, this close, of Charles’s carrefour laundry softener and woody aftershave.

And they’re leaning towards each other, a boundary they might finally cross, let the cards fall where they fucking may, when—

A yowl. A screech. A mighty crash.

“Sassy!” Max says, practically jumping out of his skin.

Both men whip around at the source of the noise. Sassy’s frozen on a shelf, a beige mass with yellow eyes. Paw half up, looking guilty – if a cat could look guilty– at a trophy that he has just knocked off a counter. Jimmy, on the other hand, is absolutely nowhere to be seen, already having escaped the scene of the crime.

Max groans into his hands. But then Charles is laughing, an asthmatic penguin noise that Max has really come to like. It melts the fire in Max a little, amusement tempering his frustration. (The trophy is not the source of Max’s current frustration, but Charles does not need to know that.)

“I shall get the broom.” Charles says.

“Thanks.”

So the moment passes. They clean up. On their hands and knees, near, but not touching. The broken trophy is the one he got for his overtake on Nasr in his first year in F1, and offers a chance for them to reminisce about their races. For Max to joke a little about whether Charles will get his first WDC when the pandemic is over, both of them excited about the future, a future with both of them in it, still trying, still racing each other to the brink. It’s much easier to do this, than to talk about the almost-kiss, or break the seal on this moment that they know won’t last forever.

Debris cleared, and the cats shooed into the study, Charles mentions that he should go return his equipment to his mother. They stand at the doorway for a moment that stretches too long.

Max doesn’t know how long they have. Of this, of each other. Of being left alone, of the world not encroaching with cameras or demands for explanations or labels for what they are. Of getting to know each other not as competitors, but on their own terms, in their own time.

But for a long time, Max will always remember this moment. The two of them, a dining chair. His crazy cats, Charles’s toothy smile. Their partial reflections in the mirror, an afternoon unfolding with potential.

A warm hand on his back to let him know he’s cared for, and looked after.

#lestappen #f1 rpf #max verstappen #charles leclerc #3316 #1633 #drabble #f1 drabble #prompt fill #f1 fanfiction #f1 fanfic #fluff #formula 1 fanfic #formula one fanfiction #formula 1 fic #ficlet #formula 1 rpf #f1 fic #wiz.writing

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honeyjars-sims · 5 months ago

Text

3.4 The Calm Before the Storm

David and Angelique stood on the dance floor of Roy G. Biv's watching the patrons slowly trickle in. It was Thursday, one of their slowest nights, so the pair was expecting a laid-back evening. Tomorrow would be a different story. The weekend crowd was much more chaotic--sweaty club goers would push and shove their way to the front of the stage in anticipation of the arrival of THE Diva herself, Miss Angelique Galloway. But this night, like most Thursday nights, had been smooth sailing.

"Well, David, this is the calm before the storm. I hope you're ready."

"I think I can handle a Friday night at a drag club, Ange."

Angelique turned towards him with a smirk. "I'm talking about Drag Superstar. Once it starts airing, everyone's attention will be turned to you."

David's season of the reality show was set to air in a few months. While the cast hadn't been officially announced yet, word traveled fast amongst the show's most avid fans. Posters on seddit had not only figured out the cast but the elimination order for the whole season.

"Now that I'm not ready for."

David had already heard the whispers. There was a lot of pressure on him to perform well, especially since Angelique had made it to the finals a couple of seasons prior.

"Oh, you'll be just fine, David. You've got that Galloway charm. The fans are going to eat you up."

"That's not what I'm worried about."

Though the public's impression of his performance was certainly important, it wasn't what had his stomach in knots. He hadn't gone into the show thinking about how to address his family life, but the producers seemed eager to exploit the parenting angle. He was, after all, a bit of an outlier in the cast as a family man.

Now, a few months outside of the pressures of competition, he had plenty of time to worry about how much of what he said would make it on air.

"I know." Angelique was sympathetic. "I'm sure your family will understand. Personal things are bound to come up."

"I'm sure most of them will." David didn't have to elaborate on which family member would be affected most negatively by his loose lips. As his closest friend and confidant, Angelique was privy to everything going on in his life.

"How is Johnny doing, by the way?" She asked.

"About the same." David smoothed out the wrinkles on his skirt. "I feel a little better having him around here so I can keep an eye on him, but I'm not sure a nightclub is the best environment for him."

"I think the tight leash you're holding might be the bigger problem," Angelique warned him.

David scoffed. "Haven't I told you I don't take parenting advice from people who don't have kids?"

"Many times! Look, I may not know what it's like to be a parent, but I do understand having a childhood where you didn't feel safe or valued. Johnny came to you and Solomon because he trusts you. Don't break that trust by pushing him before he's ready."

"I'm not trying to push him, but I can't just let him do whatever he wants," David asserted.

Just then, they spotted Johnny coming around the corner.

"Go talk to your son," Angelique advised as she stood up to leave. "Trust him and he'll keep trusting you."

As much as he appreciated her insights, he wasn't sure Angelique understood the responsibilities that came with being a parent. He made his way over to Johnny, still uncertain about his friend's advice.

"Oh, hey Dad! I was going to ask if you really need me tonight. It seems pretty quiet."

David started picking at his nails. "I don't know. Why, do you have something else you need to do?"

"Not really. Well, Carina did ask me to go to The Hideaway with her."

David really didn't need Johnny's help, but he bristled at the mention of Carina. "Can't you find something better to do? You know I feel about you spending time with her."

Johnny rolled his eyes. "C'mon, Dad, you're treating me like a child. I'm allowed to make my own decisions."

"Not when you're living in my house. Rent free I might add."

"Oh, here we go again. 'Not under my roof!' Listen to yourself. You used to be cool."

"I don't care about being cool, Johnny, I care about your safety." David's voice was getting louder as their conversation turned from banter to a full-blown argument. "You don't act like an adult when you're with Carina, so why would I treat you like one?"

"Right. This is for my own good. I'm sure you never made any mistakes when you were my age."

"I've made plenty of mistakes, but I'm not going to let this be one of them. You're staying here tonight."

"Cool, I'll just start lying about what I'm doing then. Is that what you want?"

"What I want is for you to get the outfit for my second number ready. Make sure you turn the iron off when you're done."

"Fine, whatever!" Johnny stormed off. Though his words were filled with anger, it was sadness that was spread across his face. Angelique stopped him on his way to the dressing room.

"He'll come around, baby." She rubbed his back gingerly. "He just needs time. You know how he is."

Johnny hoped she was right.

Previous | Beginning of story | Beginning of chapter | Next

Thank you @nexility-sims for reviewing this post for me!

#ts4 #the sims 4 #sims 4 #ts4 story #simblr #sims storytelling #sims story #simlit #sims community #stksafeharbor #safeharborstory #sh:angelique #sh:david #sh:johnny #sh:chapter3

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blueberrypancakesworld · 2 years ago

Text

Fluff Alphabet - David

warning : pure fluff, some darker themes, angst, it's getting sweet and fluffy under the cut.

masterlist

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A = Affection (How do they worship you?)

°David has been worshipping you since he saw you and you came together. Maybe not always obviously with kisses and words. But his looks, his smile or a simple movement like putting his hand on your hip is enough to prove his faithfulness to you. And when this is not enough, he doesn't bother with lulling words or kisses.

══════════════════════

B = Best friends (What would they be like as best friends? How would the friendship start?)

°I think the friendship started before you even knew it. David and the others had been watching you at the amusement park almost every night for a while. Until David started his attempt with his silver tongue, his sympathetic look and his nice words, you trusted him relatively quickly. Before one thing led to another and you found yourself riding behind him on his motorbike through the night.

°As best friends you would do anything for each other. Whether it's doing things for David during the day or giving you immortality. Sometimes he doesn't always seem to be there but you both knew he had a deep connection to you...maybe those feelings can become something more.

══════════════════════

C = Cuddling (do they like to cuddle?, how do they cuddle?)

°David is not always necessarily the biggest cuddler. He has other ways of showing you his affection. But when you do cuddle, it's usually just the two of you. Either when the other three are hunting then in the den on lots of pillows and blankets. Or something the blonde likes most of all sitting outside on the cave looking at the stars. When he puts an arm around you and pulls you closer. Listening to your quiet heartbeat. Or just sitting in his lap and talking about trivial subjects. The main thing is that he has you with him. For him.

°,,So beautiful is eternity"

══════════════════════

D = Domestic (how would they settle down? How are they cooking and cleaning?)

°The problem will be being a vampire. Santa Clara may not be his forever home but as long as he and his brothers have enough victims they will stay. However, I think he will try to convince you to stay... if that doesn't work, who knows, hypnosis is always an option. Or a long, long motorbike ride to the next area the vampires might settle.

°As for cleaning and cooking, it's more of a no. Since he only needs blood, he doesn't really cook. I think he can make simple things like noodles or scrambled eggs but don't expect five star meals. And clean well the cave or the nest has its own charm but you wouldn't call it tidy. So no tidy I think he would call it "own creativity".

══════════════════════

E = Ending (how would they break up with your partner if they had to?)

°If he had to break up with you because he is afraid that the vampire hunter kids/teens could become a danger I think there would be two ways. The gentle one where he gives you one last kiss, keeps himself under control and his revenge and anger doesn't get the better of him. He would just hypnotise you and send you away and make you forget everything.

°,,I-I...will never forget you my love"

Or the dark brutal way when maybe one of his brothers has already died. You hurt or he hurt. He would tell you everything and take you in. So you would give him your life.

° ,,Now we are together forever!".

══════════════════════

F = Fiance(e) (how do you feel about consent? How soon would you want to get married?

°David doesn't have to get married to feel connected to you. From the moment he saw you, he knew you belonged together and that's how it happened. However, he would totally support his partner and hold a big wedding in the whole cave if she wanted to get married.

°,,Forever and ever".

══════════════════════

G = Gentle (how gentle are they mentally and physically?)

°David is gentle emotionally and then again he is not. Sometimes you watch him with the others as he takes a drag on his cigarette and stares at nothing for minutes. The three vampires always said that he would think about you and how much you actually mean to him, even if he doesn't always show it.

°,,Mhh...sorry my dear, what did you say?".

°Physically, as I said when you were cuddling, he usually only shows this when you are alone. It is something almost private for him, something for the two of you. The certain distance to his brothers. But if you want to cuddle believe me he will cuddle you to death if you want to put it that way.

°,,All right, one last good night hug if it makes you happy".

══════════════════════

H = Hugs (do you like hugs? How are their hugs?)

°Hugs yes and no. A hug from behind when you're holding on to him while riding a motorbike very much. In front of everyone else, nothing. It's not that he doesn't love you, it's just something he doesn't need everyone to see. Again, more of a private thing for him.

°But when you hug it's either a short one when you don't have much time left and get tired while you sleep at night. Since you know he'll be with you that night. Or a long intimate gentle hug when you say goodbye to him before he hangs out with his brothers.

══════════════════════

I = I love you (how soon would they say it?)

°He would actually say it on the first date. He would rather cleverly incorporate it into his charming words. But believe me, once he says it, he will whisper, whisper and say it more times than you can count. He likes to do this when he has pulled you in and wants to make some stranger jealous.

══════════════════════

J = Jealousy (how quickly are they jealous? What do they do when they are jealous?)

°David is jealous very, very quickly (even if Marko still has the highest level). One wrong look, one step too many, one word too offensive from a guy to you and he's standing next to you faster than the stranger can notice. One hand on your hip, the other on your cheek before he pulls you into a deep kiss. The grin on his lips is unmistakable before the boy moves away from both of you.

°,,You are my little bat".

══════════════════════

K = Kisses (how are their kisses? where do they love to kiss you?)

°Your first kiss with David was surprisingly gentle but quickly turned serious as he became more aware of your excited heartbeat. It was beguiling. But after that, his kisses seem to get more and more eager. Especially when you're in a relationship, a deep rough kiss for you and a little snack for him in between.

°His favourite thing is to kiss you on your lips, he loves to taste you and feel your warmth. Otherwise like each of the four your neck. The perfect place to bite and kiss two in one what more would he want.

══════════════════════

L = Little ones (how are they with kids?)

°David is good with kids when he wants to be. I think he might find them quite annoying from time to time especially if they are younger children. But when they are more independent he would play with them from time to time and take them on a flight.

°,,Who wants to be a bat?"

══════════════════════

M = Morning (How do you spend your mornings?)

°You don't always spend your mornings together. If you have decided to sleep with the boys and have managed to sleep during the day, you will find him with you the second he wakes up. He would put the blanket lightly over you, look at you and thank you for waiting for him. Before he stays with you, you have fallen asleep.

°,,I'll stay with you"

══════════════════════

N = Night (how are nights spent with them?)

°When you are awake at night which is going well (you have adjusted your day-night rhythm to him) you are either with all the boys. You talk, laugh, play and fly together. If you're not in the cave, you're pretty much always on his motorbike on the way to the amusement park where you spend the whole night.

══════════════════════

O = Open (how fast would they open)

°I don't think David would take as long as Dwayne. But he would take his time. Mostly because he doesn't want to overpromote you or upset you. He knows he's done things that a normal person would probably never forgive him for. But also the deeper and the longer you are together and on your reassuring words he would gradually tell you everything.

°,,You wanted to ask me something...go ahead and ask".

══════════════════════

P = Patience (how quickly are they annoyed?)

°It takes a lot to make David really angry. When you argue, he tries to resolve it calmly and would get frustrated if you didn't find a solution. The thing that would really upset him, however, would be if you put yourself in danger with him in any situation. It is fear that turns into anger at your actions. He knows he cannot protect you during the day, which is why he always rests with thoughts of you during the day. But no matter how angry he gets, in the end he forgives you because all he really cares about is you.

°,,Mad? Mad? I'm not mad - I fucking worried!".

══════════════════════

Q = Quizzes (how much would they know or remember about you?)

°David won't ask you directly about your personal stuff. Maybe once in a quiet moment or flirt. He's more likely to sit in the cave with a cigarette smoking quietly between his lips while he listens to the conversations you have with the others.

°But believe me, if someone were to ask him, he could name just about anything.

°,,I know everything there is to know about you, my dear"

══════════════════════

R = Remember (what is your favourite moment in your relationship?)

°A moment he would always remember it was actually a normal date. One night for you and him while the others were out hunting. You drove through Santa Clara and rode the Ferris wheel. You were actually on your way home when he suddenly stopped and lifted you off the bike. You were about to ask him what he was doing before he took off and flew up into the sky with you. This is beautiful" he heard you say as you flew up through the clouds. You pulled the cloak he had given you more tightly around you. Before you arrived through the clouds in the clear sky. It was a blood moon and in the glow of the red moon he pulled you into a deep kiss. As you held onto him and your heartbeat could be heard. Before he came closer to your neck and sucked your blood. Your sigh, your touch. For David it was the most beautiful thing he had ever experienced.

══════════════════════

S = Safety (how protective are they? How would they protect you?)

°David is not too protective at first. I mean he's a fucking vampire and his brothers wouldn't even let anything happen to you. They might keep their eyes open a little bit if you were at the fair, but not much else really.

°But if, for example, one of his brothers has already died or you have been hurt, he will become obsessed with avenging you and keeping you safe. If you don't stay at home on your own, he simply hypnotises you. Or in the worst case he locks you in the most secluded place in the cave just so he knows where you were. Only in the worst case he would let you forget everything and send you away. But before that happens he would rather suck you out or turn you before he loses you forever.

°,,You stay with me...everything will be alright, I promise".

══════════════════════

T = Try (how much would they invest in dates anniversaries, gifts etc?)

°I think David would not necessarily care much about gifts or big preparations. Because the biggest and most dangerous gift you gave him was your love. Whereas his greatest gift to you would be immortality.

°If he were to give you something for an anniversary, I think it would be jewellery. Something that you always carry with you so that he can see it when you are with him.

°,,Your beauty transcends eternity".

══════════════════════

U = Ugly (what would be a bad habit of theirs?)

°Besides the obvious people-killing and moral stuff, it would be his lust for revenge and control. I do think that if pressed enough over a short period of time, he could quickly become very vengeful and even vindictive. But this is only a result of him feeling helpless and powerless. Because if there's one thing he hates, it's not having control. He won't yell at you right away, but if you don't do what he wants you to do when the situation is extremely bad, I imagine he will raise his voice.

══════════════════════

V = Vanity (how much do they care about their appearance?)

°To cut to the chase, the four (beautiful) little rats that came out of the darkest bin. No seriously, underneath all the dark clothes and bleached hair, David does care about his appearance. I mean how else would they attract so many pairs of eyes. He knows he is attractive to the world around him so why not be more provocative and attractive.

°But he couldn't care less what you wear. You always look good to him. Whether in a little summer dress or in a rubbish bag. To him you're the prettiest thing you've ever seen.

══════════════════════

W = Whole (would they feel incomplete without you?)

°Yes, as much as he loves his brothers, the thought of you dying from just about anything, including old age. He wouldn't "survive" spending eternity without you. It would be like a part of him would be missing, some of his strength would be missing and he would feel powerless.

°,,Please...stay with me for eternity".

══════════════════════

X = Xtra (a random headcanon for you)

°David smokes all the time I mean he can't die of cancer so why not? I think he's keeping you away from cigarettes until you're a vampire, though. He would hardly smoke next to you and only smoke when you are sleeping or not even with the boys. But if his brothers asked him about it he would never admit it.

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Y = Yuck (what is something he would not like about his partner?)

°There is very little he wouldn't like about you if it were at all possible. But what would annoy him would be if you asked him about his past all the time when he wasn't in the mood. Or you would ask him all the time in front of the others. Then I think he would close himself off from you and become calmer. The others would talk to you and explain what was going on if you hadn't figured it out for yourself.

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Z = Zzz (what is a sleeping habit of theirs?)

°When he's not hanging upside down on the ceiling with the others, I think he would hold you somehow if you agreed. Believe me, even in sleep he would hold you tight. If he is not hanging upside down from the ceiling, he prefers to sleep when you are leaning against him, lying in his arms or when he can lay his head on your lap. Believe me, he falls asleep faster than he would admit.

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#the lost boys 1987 #tlb 1987 #the lost boys david #the lost boys david x reader #tlb david #tlb david x reader #fluff alphabet #fluff #big fluff #pure fluff #dark theme #fluffy #kissing #cuddling & snuggling #david powers #male x female

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whatsnewalycat · 2 years ago

Text

Psychomanteum / Chapter 12

Pairing: Dieter Bravo x OFC Louella (2nd POV)

Chapter 12: Ghost in the Machine

Chapter Summary: You and Dieter go on a date while grappling with the past, present, and future.

Rating: Explicit (18+ only)

Word Count: 8.7k+

Content / Warnings: alternating pov, insecurities, mirror, angst, fluff, acting career things idk, awkward/nervous speech patterns, cocaine use, past infidelity, suspicion, dissociation, argument, abuse mention

Notes: Chapter title from "Ghost in the Machine" by SZA featuring Phoebe Bridgers. Howdy! If you want the taglist, or AO3 link, head on down to the masterlist. If you want a link to the spotify playlist for this chapter, let me know and I'll send it to ya.

[ Series Masterlist ]

Every window in the house sits ajar, welcoming a warm cross-breeze that tickles your skin. It carries an earthy scent from further up the hill, giving faint whiffs of sage and dirt.

Dieter moseys around the house in his boxers, voyaging between his kitchen sink and potted plants, watering can in hand. He mumbles sweet little affirmations to his green dependents, checking in with each in a hushed voice, saying shit like, “Now, how are we doing here? Thirsty?” or “Looking great today,” or “Wow, someone needs a haircut.”

From your place nestled into the couch, you alternate between watching him and studying the white wisps of steam that swirl off the surface of your coffee cup.

This morning, while peaceful, has you feeling off-kilter. Your mind keeps wandering to the interview with DIRT. To your mom. To Dieter.

Overnight, the dust began to settle in your mind, providing more clarity. Details started to surface shortly after you woke. Things you heard yesterday, but didn’t understand or deem important in the moment.

Like David’s statement: “Dieter has had a lot of big changes in his personal life this past year as well, with his divorce to Anika, and the scandals surrounding it.”

Like your mother saying: “He had a problem with drugs, you know, big problem, had other women, too,“ and, “I know he has a cocaine habit, and that he cheated on his wife, does that sound like anyone else?”

Like Dieter saying: “No, I definitely deserved that.”

In each still, calm moment, they replay. Every time you look at Dieter and your heart aches with love and adoration, your memory blindsides you with this information.

Is your mom right? Did he cheat on Anika?

Or is she just trying to drive a wedge between you?

Wouldn’t he have told you when he had the chance?

You know you could do a web search to look into it, do your own research into the matter. Hell, you could even just fucking ask him. But the prospect makes you itch.

Because what if she’s wrong and he thinks you don’t trust him? Or, worse, what if she’s right?

Fuck, what if she’s right?

Your blood starts to buzz hot and rapid through your veins. You look around for an escape hatch and see a bookshelf, then set your coffee cup down to approach it.

Among knickknacks and a few small plants housed on the solid oak shelves, you find titles you expect to see, like 1984 by George Orwell, The Bell Jar by Sylvia Plath, The Magic Mountain by Thomas Mann, and at least a dozen art reference books. You also find a few things you weren’t expecting, like Anna Karenina by Leo Tolstoy, half a dozen Julia Quinn novels, and, most importantly, a first edition of Betty Crocker’s Picture Cook Book.

You pull the cookbook out and examine it, running your fingertips along the frayed corners of the faded red hardcover, then flip it open, asking, “Why do you have this?”

Dieter looks up from an unruly Monstera, “Have what?”

“This cookbook,” you answer, padding across the living room’s black and white striped rug to show him.

He frowns as you hold it up, shaking his head, “Must’ve been Annie’s. She left some stuff behind when she moved out.”

“My grandma had this one,” you murmur, glancing up at him, “Is—is it ok if I look through it?”

He scoffs and shrugs, “Not like she’s coming to get it,” then returns his attention to the Monstera.

You settle into the couch, thumbing through the yellowed pages, reading recipes, tips, and instructions compiled for housewives of the 1950’s. Dieter finishes grooming his plants and plops down at your side, curling an arm around your shoulders, “Betty giving you any inspiration?”

“Fun fact: Betty Crocker isn’t an actual person,” you smirk, turn the page to the section on custard pies, and inform him, “In the 1920’s, a flour company noticed they got a lot of homemakers requesting baking advice, so they adopted the moniker Betty Crocker as a pen name for the people who answered the questions.”

“Huh,” he blinks, “Interesting.”

“Listen to this,” you flip to a dog-eared page towards the back of the book and start reading from it, “If you’re tired from overwork, house chores you’re bound to shirk, read these pointers tried and true, and discover what to do.”

“What’s that?”

“Tips for housewives who are fucking miserable,” you tell him, then read another excerpt, “Get outdoors every day. Take a walk, do some gardening, take the children for an outing, or pay your neighbor a short visit,” and another, “Harbor pleasant thoughts while working. It will make every task lighter and pleasanter. Notice humorous and interesting incidents to relate at dinnertime, etc.”

“Jesus,” he mutters.

You want to tell him that the page was bookmarked. Its connection to the spine, well-creased. Referenced often. The comment lingers at the back of your throat.

When you backtrack your place in the book, trying to resume your study on custard pies, a white index card slides from between two pages.

“Oh,” you pluck it out and furrow your brow at the ingredients, measurements, instructions printed in a precise script, “It’s a recipe for banitsa. You ever had this?”

“I don’t think so.”

“It’s like a flaky cheese pastry… phyllo, feta, yogurt,” you murmur, then glance up at him, “What do we have going on today?”

“Reservations at 7, and Darlene’s gonna stop by later, but other than that,” he grins and shakes his head, “Nada.”

So, the two of you smoke a joint on the patio while Lincoln picks up the called-for ingredients Dieter doesn’t have on hand. After Lincoln drops them off, you sanitize the sun-drenched quartz of Dieter’s kitchen countertop, all sparkling rainbows in the light. Dieter spreads a paint-splattered drop cloth across the no-man’s land between the dining room and kitchen, sets up an easel, equips it with a canvas, then rolls a little yellow file cabinet out next to it.

He puts on a mix of music described as roller-rink 1978. As the funky tunes play over the sound system wired throughout his house, you attach a bread hook to his matte black stand mixer and sift bread flour into its 7-qt bowl.

Then you go to work.

You concentrate on the task at hand in each given moment, taking it step-by-step. Measuring, mixing, and kneading. Trying not to think too long about the romance novels lining the bookshelf, or the recipe’s delicate handwriting, or the dog-eared page, or Dieter’s baited breath after he recounted why he and Anika split, or your mother saying, “I know he has a cocaine habit, and that he cheated on his wife, does that sound like anyone else?” Or David Alterman asking, “Do you worry that those patterns are bound to repeat themselves?”

Instead of these things, you try your hardest to occupy your hazy, pot-laced brain by separating the dough into equal pieces while humming along to ABBA and Elton John and Electric Light Orchestra.

When the recipe calls for the dough to rest for an hour, you clean your workspace, throw together the banitsa filling, and wash the dishes.

Then the timer tells you: seventeen minutes left.

You turn your attention to Dieter. His bare feet move fluid from side-to-side, paintbrush flitting between the palette and canvas as he lip-syncs along to “Hollywood Swinging” by Kool & The Gang. A grin stretches across your face.

They cannot be right about him. This is not the kind of man who has affairs. No fucking way. This man is an angel.

I’ve been fooled before.

You banish the thought with a quick shake of your head, then try to distract yourself by asking, “Do you still see ghosts?”

He looks up at you, then back at his work-in-progress with a shrug, “I don’t usually see them per se, it’s more like a, uhh… an understanding. Or a knowing, I guess. Like a picture in my head with a feeling attached to it.”

His features twitch animatedly as he talks, accenting his words, dark eyes glancing between the canvas and your face.

“It’s like… have you ever had intrusive thoughts?”

“Have I ever,” you snort.

“It’s like that,” he explains, “Like a flash of something. Not like that kid in the Sixth Sense, seeing them fuckin’ uhh… walking around and shit.”

You hop up onto the kitchen counter and inquire, “Where’s the most haunted place you’ve been?”

Dieter pauses mid-brushstroke and scrunches his face up as he thinks about this, resuming when he says, “Well, hotels are always the worst. They’re so transitive, you know, all this energy coming and going constantly. And the people stuck there… they usually went intending to have a good time, a vacation or party or whatever, and something happened to them. That, or… they went in with an intention not to come out and succeeded.”

The implication unfolds in your brain, and you nod.

“Either way they seem to have unfinished business,” he shrugs and squints at the canvas, smudging paint with his thumb, “Usually they’re harmless, so it’s pretty easy to ignore,” he pauses here, clears his throat, then continues, “But in terms of the worst vibes I got, like, uhh… how scared it made me feel, it was definitely Ethan.”

Blood drains from your face and extremities, leaving you cold and dizzy.

“I—I thought—wait, really?”

He squints up at the ceiling, like he’s re-evaluating his statement, then levels his eyes with yours with a nod, “Yeah. At first, at least. Like the first night I was there, I felt him and it was,” he furrows his brow and drops his gaze to the floor, “Dark. Really fucking dark. And I was already in a bad way, y’know, I went to your place straight from the airport and you were—”

“A fucking disaster?”

“A beautiful trainwreck,” he corrects with a persuasive smile. It falters as soon as he continues, “And I just had this big fight with Annie about the divorce and, uhh, stuff, and hadn’t used blow in a day or two, just… not great,” he swallows, then shakes his head, “I think maybe… he could sense that about me. It was a warning. I remember knowing that’s what it was.”

“Oh,” you breathe. Look down at your hands. Start picking at your cuticles.

“It was hard to stay. So… I left.”

“I didn’t think it was that bad. I’m sorry. I mean, he told me that he liked you—”

“It got better, really, love. It’s fine,” he assures you, then frowns, “Wait, he told you he likes me? Did you ask him about me or something?”

“Well, yeah,” you drop your gaze to the floor, “I just wanted to—I don’t know, see if he approved, I guess.”

His head jerks back and he blinks, “Oh.”

“Yeah—he, um, told me that he always liked you,” you tilt your head at your dangling legs and chuckle, “Told me you were a triangle guy.”

Dieter lets out a light puff of laughter.

“He asked if you make me happy,” you tell him, so quiet it’s almost a whisper, then look up to study his reaction.

He pulls his paintbrush from the canvas and stares at you, his eyes soft and searching, “And?”

A soft scoff flees your lips, and you say, “Of course you do, Dee.”

“Yeah?”

This crooked smile spreads across his face and makes your heart ache.

“Obviously,” you chuckle, grinning in return.

Dieter seems to think about this, pink tongue rolling along his bottom lip as his eyebrow quirks. He sets his palette down on the little yellow file cabinet, drops his paintbrush into a cup of water, then crosses the room towards you.

The way he looks at you seems to take a physical presence on your skin, making you shiver before he even reaches you. When he does, his hands slide up your bare legs, fingertips dipping under the hem of your jean shorts. His hips nudge your knees apart.

You hook your arms around his neck as he tugs you closer, brushing his nose against yours, “You make me happy, too.”

He kisses you, gentle for only a moment before your tongues meet.

It’s so soft and wet it makes you gasp. A rumble sounds from his throat and his grip tightens. You arch your back, balling his shirt in your fist

He guides your hand to the bulge in his sweatpants, “Do you feel that? How happy you make me?”

“That’s pretty fucking happy,” you grin, wrapping your fingers around his girth, over the soft fabric. You start to work him and he tosses his head back with a moan.

Your lips meet his again, finding depth. It’s a slow heat, the way you take your time with his cock in your grip and your tongue in his mouth. Drives him crazy. His breaths carry strained groans that tickle your throat and make your cunt throb.

When you roll your thumb against the damp spot in his sweatpants, he gasps, “Fuck–”

You hook a finger under his waistband, “I wanna see it.”

“Oh yeah?” he chuckles, pausing to drag his tongue against yours, earning a whimper from you, then says, “Any time, any place, he’s all yours, baby.”

And right when he starts to pull down his pants, the front door swings open.

You both jump and look towards the noise.

In walks Darlene, cell phone pinched between her ear and shoulder, talking to someone on the other line, “Yeah, I just got to Dieter’s house, I’m going to tell him—Yeah, I will—Ok. Ok.”

Dieter rearranges himself and meets your eyes, murmuring, “To be continued,” before turning to approach her.

“Yep, bye,” she tosses her phone in her designer bag and sighs, looking between the two of you, “Did I interrupt something?”

Your mouth gapes open. You shake your head and hop down off the counter, “We, um–we–”

Dieter cuts in, thank fucking god, responding, “No. What's the news?”

Darlene raises an eyebrow at him, then you. She leans back against the dining room table and crosses her arms, “Well, I raised hell at DIRT. David Alterman is on disciplinary leave. The interview will be published without the phone call tomorrow. So… we will see what happens.”

“Oh, that’s good!” you grin, glancing at the back of Dieter’s head, then to Darlene, “Thank you so much. And—and I’m sorry, you know, you had to deal with that.”

“That’s what I’m here for,” Darlene nods, flashing you a wane smile, then looks to Dieter, “Can I steal you for a sec? I have to talk to you about something.”

He clears his throat and nods, “Yeah,” then follows her outside.

You release a little chuckle and smile to yourself.

The timer goes off.

Dieter slides the door closed behind him, following Darlene around the centerpiece of his patio: a sprawling oak tree. He looks up into it as he trails behind, admiring all the twisted innards of the beast. When they step out of its shade and into the hot afternoon sun, he grimaces.

She plugs a cigarette between her lips and lights it, asking him on the exhale, “What was that about?”

“Nothing,” he takes a step forward and leans against the steel railing, peaking over the edge to look down the cliffside.

“How’s she doing since yesterday? That was a fucking mess,” Darlene leans on the railing beside him.

Dieter scrunches his nose up, shrugging, “Kind of hard to read, I guess. She seems fine. But–but I don’t know, she’s just,” he pauses here and frowns, “I think I would be freaking out if I were her, you know? But she’s not? And I don’t know what to do about that.”

She flicks her cigarette and raises her eyebrows, then sighs, “Actually, Dieter, that’s what I wanted to talk about with you.”

“About what? Lua? What about her?”

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but are you serious about this girl?”

“Jesus Christ, Darlene,” he groans, dropping his head, “Yes, I’m fucking serious. I wouldn’t be doing all this bullshit for just anyone.”

“It just seems like there’s a lot you haven’t figured out. Maybe some things you haven’t discussed,” she takes a drag and looks him up and down, “What if I got some intel that says she’s still selling drugs?”

He plays along, inquiring, “What kind of drugs?”

“Edibles. Pot brownies, shit like that.”

“I’d say your intel is bunk. She’s straight.”

“Well, I looked into it,” she blows a plume of blue smoke out into the canyon, “She has no online presence, no license, sells out of her apartment—I mean, it fucking reeks, Dieter. How’s she able to make enough to live in that area with no marketing?”

“She doesn’t make a huge profit. I mean, this month I helped her with rent—”

“You’re fucking kidding me. So she’s using you—”

“No, she’s not. I had to beg her to let me help. It’s not like that,” he maintains, shaking his head, “I mean, who’s your source? Why are you even looking into this?”

“I don’t trust her, Dieter! Something isn’t right, it’s not adding up.”

He pushes off the railing and pushes non-existent sleeves up his forearms, “Let’s say you’re right, and she’s selling edibles,” he stops for a beat, then scoffs, “Who fucking cares? Fucking pot brownies? Who gives a shit.”

“Movie studios care. The public cares. Doesn’t matter if it’s crack or pot, she’s a fucking drug dealer.”

“She’s not a fucking drug dealer, Darlene,” he snaps.

She stares at him. Takes a drag off her cigarette.

He kneads his neck, shifting his weight from one foot, to the other, before throwing his hands out in exasperation, “I need you to just believe that, for once, someone loves me and is good for me. Please.”

Darlene’s lips purse, “That’s what you said about Anika.”

“That—that’s different,” Dieter drops his gaze to the ground.

“Is it, though?” she blinks at him, “You swore that was it, that she wasn’t a gold digger, and yet… now she’s ex-Mrs. Dieter Bravo. Walked away with almost half your estate in return for not selling your secrets. She’s a rich woman now.”

“Yep,” Dieter sighs, skidding his toes against the mahogany deckboards, “I’m just a big fuck up, you got me there.”

“That’s not what I’m saying,” she asserts, “I just want you to really think about this before doing anything… rash.”

“I’m not going to run away and fucking marry her the first chance I get, ok?” he sneers, “Just—chill the fuck out.”

“Dieter, let me be perfectly honest with you,” she drops her cigarette and crushes it with the toe of her beige pump, “I worry it’s more than you just being cunt-struck again.”

His head jerks back and he scoffs.

She lowers her voice to a pleading tone, “Look, you’re falling headfirst into a serious relationship with this girl, she used to deal drugs, there’s all this shady stuff with her business, and… I just—I worry, are you, you know… are you ok?”

“Am I ok?” he repeats the question, drenching it with incredulity, “What the fuck do you mean, am I ok?”

She studies his face, crossing her arms. A meaningful tilt of her head tells him everything he needs to know.

His jaw gnashes from side-to-side and he shakes his head, “I’ve been clean for months, Darlene, because of her.”

“Alright,” she raises her eyebrows and blinks, “Good.”

“Do you believe me?”

Darlene shrugs, “If you say you’re ok, you’re ok.”

Bullshit.

“I am,” he confirms, his voice firm and final.

“Great,” she nods, then pulls out her phone and looks at the screen, “Alright, well, I’ll keep an eye on things after the interview drops and let you know how it goes.”

She stomps past him, the click-clack of her heels echoing out behind her, and exits out the side gate.

“Fuck,” he mutters to himself, shaking his hands out at his sides, rolling his neck as he starts towards the glass patio door.

Dieter walks beside you as the hostess leads the way through the busy restaurant. Everything around him is white noise. It doesn’t matter at all.

All that exists is his palm on the small of your back. His whole universe has boiled down to you, right now, draped in this white, flowing chiffon dress that Kelly picked out for tonight. You, all starry-eyed and dolled up, gawking at your surroundings because you’re just so damn excited to be at another fancy-schmancy restaurant.

Earlier today, while wrapped up in his sheets, you told him all about the menu, and haute cuisine, and French culinary history, and Escoffier. He closed his eyes and held your warm body in place next to his, content to listen to you chatter on as long as you’d allow him.

He loves that about you. How passionate you are in everything you do. How you slow to appreciate beauty in things like snowstorms, and layers in croissants, and even the subtle timbre of a cello woven into his favorite song.

“Listen close,” you told him when you pointed it out, “It’s fucking incredible.”

He did.

He felt the chords vibrate through him, resolute and melodic. It gave the music new meaning, and he couldn’t believe he’d never noticed it before. He notices every time he hears it now.

But that’s what you do.

Everything seemed so fucking boring before you. Meaningless. You opened his eyes to what was right in front of him and gave it new life. Gave him new life.

The hostess comes to a stop and gestures to a square table, laying a menu on either side of the white linen. You sit across from him and meet his gaze, face all lit up with that gorgeous fucking smile that makes his chest tighten.

“Do you have a strategy in mind here?” he asks, leaning forward onto the table, rubbing his hands together, “Food, wine, dessert, the whole nine yards?”

“I love that movie,” you comment mildly, “Bruce Willis is hot.”

He raises his eyebrows.

“What?” you laugh.

“Bruce Willis, really?”

You study him, clearly very entertained, “Why, are you jealous?”

He scoffs at this, “No—I’m just saying, though, he’s never even been nominated for an Oscar—”

“Oh, well in that case,” you roll your eyes and let out this dramatic sigh.

Dieter laughs and shakes his head, “Wow.”

“Ok, but really,” you turn your attention back to the menu. As you survey it, you tilt your head back and forth thoughtfully, clicking your tongue against the roof of your mouth. A mischievous smirk plays on your lips and you ask, “Did Darlene say we were allowed one glass or one bottle of wine?”

Dieter taps an index finger to his chin and grins, “I recall her saying bottle, don’t you?”

“Mmmm, yep, now that you mention it, I’m like… 99% sure she said bottle,” you agree conspiratorially.

He smiles up at you, but his breath hitches when something behind you catches his eye.

Or, someone, rather.

A bright tangerine dress tight around her petite, curvy frame. Loose chestnut curls flowing down her back. Glowing brown eyes locked onto his. A small smirk plays on her plump, shiny lips.

His spine straightens and he mutters under his breath, “You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.”

You frown and follow his gaze to Lilly Stokes just as she pushes her chair back and starts towards the table.

“Dieter, hiiii,” Lilly croons, squeezing his forearm, “How are you, Pookie? It’s been a minute.”

Dieter watches your eyes flick between Lilly’s hand on his suit jacket, and her face, and Dieter’s face. He watches the gears turn. The light bulb turns on. Your eyebrows shoot up and you meet his gaze, then immediately drop your eyes to the tablecloth.

“Fine,” he answers and leans back in his chair, pulling his arm from her grasp.

Lilly glances back at her table, then to Dieter, “I’m here with Jay—you remember Jay, right?”

Dieter blinks at her, thinking, “We’ve been inside you at the same time, of fucking course I remember Jay.”

But what he says is, “Yeah.”

“Oh, duh,” Lilly waves off the obvious, then wets the seam of her mouth, eyes dragging along Dieter’s body, “We should merge tables so we can catch up.”

“Oh, no—” Dieter shakes his head and gestures to you, “We’re—”

Lilly finally seems to notice your presence and turns towards you, “Oh my god, Dieter, she’s so cute, are you two on a date?”

“Yeah,” he meets your eyes for a moment before telling Lilly, “This is Louella.”

“Lou-el-la,“ Lilly repeats, enunciating each syllable like she’s trying to commit it to memory, “You don’t mind, do you, beautiful?”

You stare at her for a beat like you’re trying to figure out what she’s asking, then stammer, “Me? Wh—I’m sorry, what?”

“It’s ok if we join you?” Lilly nods, batting her false eyelashes. She asks this in a condescending way, slowing her words down like she’s asking a toddler.

Your throat croaks as you look from her, to Dieter, who’s mentally pleading, “Please no,” then back to Lilly, “Uhh—I mean, sure?”

He deflates as Lilly calls Jay over and pulls out a chair. You mouth, “Sorry.”

Jay Blackburn, who looks like a poor man’s Alexander Skarsgård but six inches shorter, saunters over, a lopsided grin plastered on his smug face, “Bravo. Long time no see.”

“Yeah,” Dieter responds, shifting in his seat at the reminder.

Across the table, you gnaw away at your bottom lip, eyes downcast, your bubbling excitement replaced with this raw, nervous energy. He soaks it up like a sponge. It trickles down his backbone and seeps into his bloodstream as he wrings his hands together.

“Who do we have here?” Jay asks, dragging his eyes along your body, drinking in your beauty with zero fucking shame.

Dieter’s jaw clenches and cocks to one side. His leg starts to bounce.

“I’m Louella.”

A warm smile crosses your face and you extend a hand to him.

Jay takes it in his like a baby bird and presses a kiss into your knuckles, then releases you, “Jay Blackburn.”

“Oh—um, nice to meet you,” you say, glancing at Dieter, then at Lilly, “And you are?”

Lilly bristles at this, huffing a little before her mask of sweetness goes back up and she responds, “Lilly Stokes.”

“So nice to meet you,” you look from her to Jay, “Are you guys actors, too?”

“Um, no,” Lilly lets out this half-chuckle, half-scoff, “That’s so funny. No. Well, maybe someday. But for now I’m just a makeup artist, content creator, brand ambassador for Wowie Zowie Cosmetics, and model,” she counts each role on her fingers, then adds as an afterthought, “Jay is a wellness guru.”

You furrow your brow, “Wellness… guru?”

“Lifestyle coach,” Jay corrects, “Shepherding people to wellness through mindfulness, yoga, and nutrition.”

Dieter rolls his eyes.

“Ohhh,” you nod, “Wow, you’re both, like, really popular on the internet?”

“I have over 10 million followers,” Lilly advises, “So, yeah.”

“She didn’t know who I was, either, if that makes you feel better,” Dieter teases, casting a smirk your way.

You wince and shrug, “Yeah, I, umm… live under a rock, I guess. Sorry.”

“I like that,” Jay says, still eyeing you up like you’re a piece of fucking meat, “It’s refreshing. We should all be so lucky to be sheltered from the world in such a digital age.”

You raise your eyebrows, “I mean, I read the newspaper every day, so I’m very much aware of what’s going on in the world—“

“Right, but,” Jay starts.

“—Just, you know, stuff that matters.”

A stunned sort of silence falls over the table for a moment, then laughter erupts from Dieter’s throat. You grin at him, and Jay must think you were kidding, because he joins in on the laughter.

“You’re funny,” Lilly flashes this smile that doesn’t reach her eyes, then lets out an exasperated sigh and looks around, “Are we going to get some fucking service here or what?”

Throughout the meal, you remain quiet.

You don’t share your thoughts on the cuisine, or the wine, or the world-renowned chef. Your face stays painfully neutral as Lilly and Jay dominate the conversation, going on and on in a masturbatory fashion about their busy lives.

More than anything, Dieter wants to tell them to fuck off. He wants to tell them that neither of you fucking care about subscribers or algorithms or sponsorships. He wants to comment on the restaurant’s heavy-handed use of bear décor and kiss you and tell you he loves you.

But Darlene’s warning to be on his best behavior rings in his head.

Despite this, the one bottle of wine you agreed upon is easily negotiated up to two.

After the plat principal is cleared from the table, Lilly leans towards Dieter and asks “So, what’s new with you? We haven’t heard from you in, what,” she turns to Jay for confirmation, “Months?”

“Summer, I think?” Jay supplies.

“Yeah,” Dieter nods and looks up at you, watching the way you wiggle in your chair and look down at your lap. He shrugs, “I’ve been keeping busy.”

“I see how it is,” Lilly pouts, glancing between his eyes and mouth, “Pookie gets a girlfriend and forgets all about us.”

Heat rises to his face. Every muscle in his body clenches. A hundred violent images flash through his head. The words shut the fuck up wrestle their way up his throat.

“How did you all meet?” you ask, plastering on this polite smile.

Lilly combs her long fingernails through her hair, “I met Dieter at some fundraising gala last year.”

Dieter’s leg starts bouncing. He leans his elbows into the table and presses his closed fist against his lips, watching you absorb this information. But he can’t get a read on you.

“She introduced us,” Jay nods to Lilly, “Yeah, we were at this party, it was fucking wild—”

“Lua doesn’t wanna hear about that,” Dieter cuts in, dropping a hand to the table.

“It’s fine, Dee,” you chuckle, then take a big swallow from your wine glass. Unconvincing.

Jay ignores Dieter’s protest, “It was one of those nights where everyone got very well acquainted with one another, if you know what I mean.”

Your fake smile twitches.

“Sounds… hot,” you offer. You empty the remaining pinot grigio in your glass down your throat. Dieter mirrors the action, taking the wine like a shot of hard liquor.

Lilly sips her martini and lets out this wistful little sigh, “Soooo hot.”

“I have to go to the bathroom,” you announce as you push your chair back, then hurry away from the table before anyone else can respond.

His blood boils.

He glares between Jay and Lilly, well aware of the slew of insults percolating at the tip of his tongue, held back by his awareness of the public eye surrounding them.

“I’ll go talk to her,” Lilly says.

Dieter grits his teeth and warns, “Lillith—”

She waves him off and starts towards the bathroom.

“Dieter,” Jay smirks, tilting his head, “You seem upset.”

“What an astute observation,” Dieter mutters, crossing his arms over his chest, “Fucking incredible.“

“What’s wrong?”

“Oh, fuck off.”

Jay raises his eyebrows, “So we’re touchy, ok. Is it because I told the story?”

Dieter says nothing, just grinds his teeth together.

“She doesn’t know about your more salacious hobbies, I take it?”

“She sure as fuck does now,” Dieter grumbles, “Thank you for that.”

Jay scoffs, “What, is this your first date or something?”

“No.”

Jay hums and takes a sip from his cocktail.

Dieter shakes his head. Scrubs a hand over his face.

Then he sits up and points at your empty seat, “If she’s going to hear about that shit from anyone, it should be me. Not some fucking ghouls just trying to get a rise out of her.”

“Then why didn’t she hear it from you?” Jay questions, pausing a beat before he sighs, “You know, you gotta own your demons, man. It’s not my fault you didn’t tell her—”

“Yeah, I fucking know, ok?” Dieter snips. He leans his elbows against the table, looking towards the women’s bathroom, “What’s taking them so goddamn long?”

Behind the roar of the flushing toilet, you hear the bathroom door open, followed by the sharp click of stilettos against ceramic tile. You open the stall door to find Lilly leaned up against the marble slab countertop, pulling a tiny silver canister from her clutch.

She looks up at the mirror and makes eye contact with you, “Hey, girl.”

“Hi,” you smile politely and approach the sink.

While you wash your hands, you watch Lilly through the mirror as she cuts two thin lines of coke right on the countertop. She fishes a short straw out of her purse and holds it out to you, “Do you want any?”

The ghost of cocaine’s allure sends your heart racing. It’s tempting, but you decline. She shrugs and leans over the counter. You look away and hear the two deep, short breaths through the straw. You swear you can feel the rush vicariously.

She sits up straight and keeps one nostril plugged closed, taking a few sharp inhales, making sure she got it all to the brain. Her eyes flutter and throat hums with contentment, “Fuck, that’s good. You sure you don’t want any?

“I’m fine,” you assure her, but don’t go to leave. You lean one hip against the sink and cross your arms, “Did you and Dieter, like… date?”

Lilly releases a chuckle, a sniffle, then rubs a fingertip against the white marble countertop where her blow was cut, “Oh, no. We fucked, like, a lot. But no, we never dated per se. It was more of a fuck buddy arrangement. No biggie.”

She scrubs her finger against her gums, then turns to the mirror to assess her appearance.

“Was that while he was still with Anika?”

“Well, yeah, that’s how it started. He asked if I could be their third,” she sniffles a few times as she examines her nostrils, “I know Kate Ridley was seeing them for a while, but that must’ve fallen through. Anyway, we all fucked around and it was fun. I brought Jay with a few times. Then Anika got turned off or something, she didn’t wanna get together anymore. Jealous I think, probably. He reached out to me for some one-on-one time.”

The information hits you like a slap in the face. A kick in the gut. A fist closed around your windpipe, squeezing tighter and tighter.

You can’t breathe.

“And of course I said yes. It doesn’t hurt to cozy up to a guy like him, with his connections and all. Good career move. Plus, he’s so good in bed. Fucks like an animal,” Lilly giggles, “Not that I have to tell you, right?”

Your face heats and lips part to respond, but she continues without regard.

“If you ever wanted a third, I’d be happy to step in. Jay, too, I’m sure of it. He was checking you out. You’re hot, you know, in a non-traditional kind of way. How long have the two of you been going out?”

She stares at you, waiting. Your throat croaks and you hear yourself say, “A few months, officially.”

“Oh, are you two, like, serious?”

You bring your hand to your throat and nod, “Yeah.”

“Weird,” she murmurs, “After what happened with Anika, I thought he was done trying to pretend he was like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like… monogamous, you know. He told me he’s a free spirit, doesn’t want to be tied down by one person ever again, all that. Then he disappears and re-emerges in a supposedly serious relationship, no offense, but it’s just confusing.”

“Oh,” you breathe, frowning down at the floor, “Well, maybe he changed?”

“The man is almost 50, I doubt that,” she scoffs, checking herself out in the mirror, then glances over at you, “Or, I mean, maybe? Hopefully?”

You nod solemnly and swallow the knot in your throat, “Should we go back?”

“Sure,” she shrugs, then leads the way out of the bathroom, into the dining room.

When you meet Dieter’s eyes, his annoyed expression goes slack. You lay one hand flat, palm facing the ceiling, balling the other into a thumbs up on top, and raise both hands. The signal he taught you back in your apartment before this clusterfuck started: Help.

Once seated, you keep your eyes low, trying to keep the steady hum in your chest from amplifying. Everything seems fuzzy and out-of-focus.

It’s too much. Too much noise. Too much information. Too much change at one time. You want off this fucking ride. You want to be home in bed, hidden under the covers where no one can reach you.

“We should go,” Dieter announces from far away.

Your body is cement. Limbs frozen. Lilly’s words play on repeat at a deafening volume:

I thought he was done trying to pretend he was like that.

He’s a free spirit, doesn’t want to be tied down by one person ever again.

“Oh, come on, Pookie–”

“Stop fucking calling me that,” he growls, then softer, in your direction, “Are you ready, love?”

You nod, then look from Lilly to Jay, your smile wavering, “It was nice to meet you both.”

Dieter leads you past blurry tables of shiny, well-to-do patrons, his hand at the small of your back, burning through your dress. You can feel his gaze glued to your profile, trying to assess the damage. You can hear the words queued up behind his closed lips.

A restaurant employee holds the door open for you. The cool night air kisses your heated, buzzing skin.

“Hey, are you ok?” Dieter asks, his thumb working against your spine.

You look down at the sidewalk and open your mouth to tell him, but it’s all a jumbled mess at the base of your tongue. Fire rises up your throat and tingles behind your eyes. You just shake your head and smother the sob in your chest.

Tears bloom in your eyes and drop to the cement. You croak out, “I’m fine.”

He scoffs.

The valet rolls up in Dieter’s cartoonish, pea soup-colored two-seater and tosses him the keys.

Once inside, you clasp the seatbelt. Grip the leather upholstery. Stare out the side window as the landscape starts to move.

“Louella” he coos, glancing between you and the road.

The car clunks a little as he shifts gears. You grip the seat tighter. Watch the city lights fly by.

He tries every once and a while to talk to you, but you can’t make yourself respond.

You’ve been here before.

You know what happens if you make a sound. If you vocalize the protest in your lungs.

What happens next is acceleration.

Car horns.

Impact.

Those vacant black eyes.

Darkness.

The second the car pulls into Dieter’s garage, you’re unfastening the seat belt.

When he shifts to park, you yank on the door handle and scramble from the vehicle.

The entryway door slams in Dieter’s face as you kick off the stupid high heels you never would have picked out for yourself.

“What the fuck is your problem?” his voice booms through the house when he opens the door.

By now, you’re halfway down the hall, making a beeline to his en suite bathroom, leaving a trail of jewelry behind you like breadcrumbs: the left earring, the right earring, bracelets, a necklace. All these brilliant ornaments Kelly loaned you to make you look more refined.

Dieter’s footsteps sound from a few paces behind as you turn into his bedroom.

“Louella, come on. Why won’t you talk to me?”

The edge his words carry make your heart jump and your feet move faster. You hurry into the bathroom, closing and locking the door behind you.

He jiggles the handle, “What the fuck is this? Are you fucking kidding me?”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” you ask.

“That I slept with Lilly and Jay?“ he scoffs, “I didn’t think it mattered who I fucked before you—”

“That’s not what I mean. You know that’s not what I mean,” you press your forehead against the door and squeeze your eyes closed, “When I asked you what happened with you and Anika, you said the two of you grew apart. That—that she was resentful—like it was her fault–”

“Open the door so we can talk about this,” he says in a low voice, “Please, baby.”

You shake your head, whimpering, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

The door handle jiggles again, “Come on, Lua, open the door.”

“I can’t.”

“Yes, you can, just unlock it—”

“Answer me.”

“GodDAMNIT–”

A hard thud shakes the doorframe.

You jump back and yelp.

“This is so fucking stupid,” he seethes, “Lock yourself in my fucking bathroom instead of talking to me. You realize how fucking stupid that is, right?”

He hits the door again. You scramble away from it, watching the doorknob rattle.

“Stop it, Dieter,” you cry out, backing yourself up to the wall, “You’re scaring me.”

“I’m scaring you?” he scoffs, his words still steeped in red, “Do you really think I would fucking hurt you?”

You slide down the wall and collapse into a pile, covering your head. All you can hear are your own shattered breaths.

A few quiet moments go by.

When his voice comes again, it’s a plea.

“Fuck, I’m sorry.”

You look up at the door and sniffle, wiping your eyes.

“I—I wanted to tell you. I mean, I was going to tell you. I swear to god. It’s just,” there’s a soft thump against the door, and you can picture him on the other side, forehead pressed up against it, “Do you know how hard it is to admit that you’re a piece of shit?”

You don’t say anything, just watch his still shadow beneath the door.

“Do you know how hard it is for me to willingly show you that? I mean, fuck. How–how are you supposed to trust me now?”

What follows is silence. Broken up by occasional sniffles and wet, labored breaths. Your chest aches.

Slowly, you rise to your feet and pad across the cool tile floor.

When you reach the door, you don’t say anything, just press your palm against the barrier where you think his heart is. And you swear, if you concentrate hard enough, you can feel its steady rhythm.

“How are you supposed to love me now?” he whispers, “You won’t even look at me, Louella.”

Your eyelids clamp shut and you take a deep breath. Then you step back and turn the doorknob, pulling the door open.

And there he is.

Dieter Bravo. The man you love.

His eyes all puffed-up and red-rimmed, cheeks streaked with tears. Every handsome feature laced with remorse.

You wrap your arms around him, burying your face in his suit jacket. He envelops you in a warm embrace and squeezes you tight.

“I’m–I’m sorry for yelling,” he tells you in a hoarse whisper, petting your hair, “I’m so sorry. I don’t know what happened, I lost it.”

You swallow hard and rub his back, a silent kind of reassurance.

“I would never hurt you, Lua,” his voice cracks, “I’m not him. I’m not him.”

Instantly, tears flood your eyes.

“I know, love,” you croak out, pulling him closer, “I know.”

Dieter kisses the crown of your head with reverence. Then your forehead. He tilts your chin to face him dead on, grazing his nose against yours, “Wanna talk about this more in the bath?”

You nod and weave your fingers through the curls at the back of his head. His lips meet yours, lingering for a tender moment before he pulls back and makes his way over to the soaking tub.

While you wash the makeup off your face, he fiddles with the water temperature and crumbles a magenta bubble bar in the stream. The sweet scent of blackcurrant fills the air. You glance up in the mirror and see him shucking off his suit jacket, eyes trailing down your spine. His breath heats the nape of your neck when he draws close and unzips your dress, his movements gentle and slow as he slides it off your shoulders.

The dress falls at your feet. You turn to face him, murmuring, “Look up.”

He does, and you set to work on his shirt buttons. When you’re halfway down his chest, he asks, “Will you tell me what she said?”

“She, um,” you pause to bite down on your bottom lip, then sigh, “She told me you and Anika would fuck around with her and sometimes Jay. Then, you know, just her.”

He hums in acknowledgment.

You reach the end of his button-down, then spread the shirt apart. As he takes over tugging it off, you ask, “Was that something that you wanted, or…?”

“We both wanted to try it,” he shrugs. Your hands move to his belt buckle and you unfasten it. He continues, “Thought it would reignite that passion. It was fucking stupid because it just made us both jealous.”

He pauses to kick off his slacks, then ushers you face the mirror again. You watch him unclasp your bra and toss it aside, glancing up when you recount, “She said you didn’t want to be tied down by one person ever again.“

He nods, diverting his gaze, “Yeah. Well, that’s true. I didn’t,” then his eyes return to yours, “But then you came along. Fucked up all my big plans to be lonely and miserable forever.”

You can’t help but grin.

He casts a backwards glance at the tub, “I think it’s ready.”

Dieter gets in first, groaning as he lowers himself into the bubbles. You sit on the opposite side and tip your face to the ceiling, stretching your legs across him, then sink down to your shoulders.

The water burns your skin a little, but you like it. It feels real.

“Hey,” Dieter rumbles.

You swivel your head down to look at him, but can only see bubbles.

“Holy shit,” you giggle, then sit up and meet his eyes, “What?”

“Come here, doll,” he reaches out to you.

You slide your feet under the water and crawl over to him, closing your eyes as you lay your cheek on his shoulder and relax against his body. He wraps his arms around your waist, snuggling you like you’re his favorite teddy bear.

One of your hands occupies itself by absentmindedly tracing the edges of his jaw. The shell of his ear. That one silver hoop earring he refuses to part with. Your nails work into his hairline and play with his damp curls.

“Were there others?” you ask him.

His tongue clicks against the roof of his mouth, then he admits, “Yeah. A few. Just hookups, really. Lilly was the most consistent, and that was still, you know…”

“No strings attached?” you smirk.

“Yeah.”

“Why did you do it?”

Your spine arches as he draws a big breath in, then releases it, “All the reasons I said it didn’t work. That was true, you know. I was gone a lot. Filming, meetings, press stuff. A few days here, a week there. There was one stretch where I was gone for two months. I’m not drowning in work or anything, but it adds up. I don’t think she realized that being with me meant being away from me that often. And. Yeah.

“At first, it upset me a lot. I thought she would be supportive and loving. Compassionate, you know. But she turned so cold when she was mad. Completely ignored me. Acted like I didn’t exist. Even when I begged for her reassurance, for her to show me she still cared and noticed me, but she wouldn’t react. I felt like a ghost. It-it kind of reminded me—”

He pauses here for a moment, holding his breath, then releases a soft, sad chuckle. His Adam’s apple bobs. When he starts again, his voice is watery.

“It reminded me of what it was like for me growing up. If I didn’t please my dad, he would ignore me completely. I would act out, be loud, push him until he exploded. Because then… then at least I knew he could see me. It was something, you know?”

You blindly cup his cheek and graze your thumb against his beard to let him know you’re listening. He nuzzles into the touch, a small rumble sounding from his throat.

“Maybe I was acting out with Annie? Or maybe just trying to… fill that emptiness, loneliness. Or numb out. Forget that my wife didn’t love me anymore. I don’t know. I guess it doesn’t matter. I started using again. Heroin, oxy, bars, morphine, adderall, booze. Whatever I could get my hands on, really. But blow has always been my favorite. It makes me feel…”

“Powerful?”

“Yeah,” he says, “Yeah. Powerful. And with other people I actually felt… desired. Plus, they were both a rush. I felt alive. When I was home I was hollow. I stopped groveling for her affection when I started fucking around. Neither of us wanted to work on the hard things. The whole fucking thing, you know, it metastasized. And—and our relationship died.”

“Fuck,” you grimace.

Dieter cranes his neck to look at you, “Too bleak?”

“No, it’s not that,” you tell him, “It’s just… familiar.”

Adrenaline spikes your bloodstream. Your mouth opens to say more, then you close it and hold your breath.

He rests his cheek on your head. Squeezes you a little tighter. Like he’s prodding you so say more.

“Do I make you happy?” you ask him.

“Do you make me happy?” he repeats, disbelief raising his voice an octave.

You nod.

“I told you earlier,” he kisses your hairline, “You make me so happy, Louella.”

“But will you feel the same tomorrow?”

“Obviously,” he lets out a little snort of laughter like he thinks you’re kidding. Silence settles. His body seems to tense and he adds, “Really, love, I mean it.”

Your teeth catch your bottom lip. Brows lace together. Then you ask, “What about a month from now?”

“Don’t do that, come on—”

“A year from now? Or—or longer, even—”

“Lua,” he huffs, then pulls you up to face him. His eyes are soft and pleading. He brushes his knuckles against your cheek, “Look, we won’t be happy every second of every day. You know why?”

A sharp pain radiates across your chest. You wince and shake your head.

He tilts your chin up to meet his eyes and says, “Because it’s fucking impossible. If we do this thing right, which I fully intend to, sometimes we’re going to be scared, and frustrated, and–and we might want to take an easy way out. But I’m telling you that I will not do that. Because I love you.”

You search his face and only find sincerity. Your stomach flips in a freefall so violent it makes you gasp, “Fuck, I love you.”

He smirks, gaze flicking between your eyes and lips, “And I’m going to love you tomorrow.”

Your heart skips. Heat creeps up your neck.

He cups your cheeks and locks his eyes onto yours, “And the next day, and ten years from now, and all the way until my next fucking life, ok?”

“Ok,” you nod. Tension liquifies and drains from your body. The corners of your mouth upturn and you ask, “What then?”

“What then?” he snorts, shaking his head with amusement, “What do you think? Hmm?”

You grin and shrug, pressing the tip of your tongue to your front teeth.

His eyes drop to your mouth and he pulls you in for a kiss. When you part, he murmurs, “I’ll fucking find you in the next life and fall in love with you all over again.”

The words electrify you. You hook your hands behind his head and press your forehead against his, “Promise?”

“Cross my heart,” he murmurs, and kisses you again.

#psychomanteum #dieter bravo x you #dieter bravo x reader #dieter bravo #dieter bravo x female reader #dieter bravo fanfiction #dieter bravo x oc #dieter bravo angst #dieter bravo fic #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal #pedro pascal character #pedro pascal character fanfic #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal fanfiction #the bubble fanfiction #the bubble fic

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the-joy-of-knowledge · 1 year ago

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The one goal we should all have....

Part 1

This particular goal is not glamorous or flashy like the ones we proudly showcase to our friends every first Monday of the month. Surprisingly, it is rarely a topic of conversation. I refer to it as "getting rid of the G-R-S emotions." By minimizing these emotions, one can enhance their intelligence, courage, and overall satisfaction.

G-R-S stands for Guilt, Regret, and Shame.

Guilt: I made a decision to work towards having guilt-free days, where I don't end the day with a heavy heart regretting things I did or didn't do. Lately, I developed an excessive habit of eating Oreos. I carried them with me everywhere and would consume them when I was bored, tired, or stressed. However, each night I would experience a painful feeling, a sense of wrongdoing. I knew that the amount of cookies I was consuming was unreasonable, and I desperately needed to stop. I questioned how I had reached this point. It all started when I received a family pack-sized box of Oreos, which I kept in my room. It became a trigger for me to munch on them mindlessly. Recognizing that I couldn't rely solely on my willpower, I realized the only way to break this habit was to remove the Oreos entirely. So, I gave them to someone else. Since then, I can proudly say that my appetite has been under control. I applied the same approach to social media and procrastination on important tasks. I no longer go to bed thinking, "I can't believe I wasted six hours scrolling." These days, my aim is to have guilt-free days. Though not perfect, this method has been an effective to ensure I sleep with contentment.

“Guilt is rooted inactions of the past, perpetuated in the lack of action in present, and delivered in the future as pain and suffering.” - David Roppo

David Roppo said it best, the lack of action or inaction during the day was a pain I had to come in terms with at night. You may experience this in other areas of your life and on different scales.

You can minimize guilt by:

Journaling: On days when you minimized guilt, how did it make you feel?

Set micro goals: Instead of trying to run for 30 minutes. Set a goal to run for 5 minutes. This will ensure you achieve you goal, minimize guilt, and build self-trust.

Get rid of distractions: We are products of our environment. We really cannot control ourselves as easy as we might think. So adjust environment to reinforce the goals you want to accomplish. Get rid of the "Oreos" weighing you down

Remember your why: Think in future terms. In a week, a month a year, or 5 years what will you feel guilty of not doing? What would you wish you did more of? Start today

Please remember that change takes time and it will often get worse before it gets better. My advice to you is to slowly try to eliminating actions or inactions that may cause you to feel guilty and do things that you promised you will do.

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laianely · 1 month ago

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Whumptober

My second work for @ouatprompts Whumptober.

Trust or Die

4th - Fearful Friday Drowning - Thunder - “Please, just take my hand”

Rating: G Summary: Even at death's door Emma still couldn't trust Killian. Read on AO3

Also posted here

Killian loved the ocean. He could spend hours listening to the sound of its surf, admiring the foaming waves and the sunlight playing merrily on its surface. Even when it was disturbed by wind and storm, Killian trusted it. He had studied its stubborn habits and capricious antics and knew how he should have acted to save his ship from the flashes of lightning that cut through the thickening darkness and struck the water dangerously close to Jolly's sides.

But not now.

Right now he was afraid of him. More afraid than ever as he watched in horror as Emma clung with all her might to the edge of the plank at the foot of the railing. Her fingers slipped on the wet, cold wood and she clutched desperately at the only thing that kept her from falling to the cold depths.

Tumbling over the railing, Killian held out his hand to her.

"Swan! Grab it!" He shouted, trying to sound louder than the winds and booming thunder.

Emma was in no hurry to do this. She looked uncertainly at his hand, and then her eyes met his, and he saw in them the same feelings that had burned him since their first meeting: suspicion and distrust. With every sentence, every action, every decision, it was as if she was slapping him every time he opened up to her.

"You would have done the same," she told him later, after she'd left him handcuffed at the top of the damn beanstalk.

But he wouldn't. He wouldn't let her down like that. And he wasn't going to fail her now.

"Come on!" Killian rushed her.

He could feel the burning stares of David and Snow White, who were barely restraining themselves from pushing him away and trying to help his daughter on their own. But Killian had gotten there before them, and all they had to do was believe the pirate - horrible and despicable. And even they handled it better than Emma.

Her frightened eyes slid over his fingers again, and then she looked over her shoulder at the raging waves, ready to take her in and drag her to the bottom. Killian felt anger rising in him. She was choosing between trusting him and the prospect of drowning, bloody hell. Really?! How deep were her traumas? There was only one way to find out - don't let her die.

"This is not the right time for your trust issues, Swan!" he yelled, getting her attention. She raised her head to meet his blue eyes again. "Please, just take my hand!"

The hope and concern she saw in his expression, the strain in his voice, seemed to finally convince her of his sincerity. Shifting her fulcrum to one hand, she gave a jerk in an attempt to reach him, and Killian almost exulted at the feel of her fingertips touching his. But as if out of spite, a bright flash illuminated the space around them, and lightning struck the surface of the water beside Jolly with a deafening crack. With a shudder, Emma lost her concentration and her fingers loosened, letting her body fall to the abyss.

With eyes wide open, Killian watched her move away from him. His body felt as if it had been poured with heavy, cold lead, stiffening his movements. All he could do was watch as the black, bottomless ocean embraced her, and her golden head disappeared quickly into the impenetrable shroud.

Only experience stopped him from the impulse that resounded in his head.

"Jump after her!" his emotions screamed, but reason dictated a different course of action.

"Wait!" Killian grabbed David's arm as he started to climb overboard.

"She'll drown!" he protested, breaking free of his grip.

"And so will you! Let me help!" Killian asked.

He handed the rope to Snow White and she threw the noose over David, tightening it around his torso. The captain secured the other end of the rope with a knot and watched as the prince plunged into the abyss after his daughter. And all that remained was to hope that it wasn't too late. Tag people who may be interested: @killianxswan @teamhook @booksteaandtoomuchtv @exhaustedpirate @anmylica @hollyethecurious @kmomof4 @winterbaby89 @undercaffinatednightmare @resident-of-storybrooke @caught-in-the-filter @tiganasummertree @stahlords @lfh1226-linda @darkshadow7 @fleurdepetite @motherkatereloyshipper @soniccat @jrob64 @beckettj @whimsicallyenchantedrose @jonesfandomfanatic @zaharadessert @bluewildcatfanatic @once-upon-a-happy-end @ultraluckycatnd @qualitycoffeethings @deckerstarblanche

#whumptober #ouat #once upon a time #emma swan #killian jones #captain swan #once upon a time fanfiction #laianely’s fanfics

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sir-davey · 4 months ago

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hey just found your stuff and im obsessed. if youre willing could you please talk a little bit more abt your ideas with like. an evil johnathan

Ack, thank you! ^^ and ofc!! I’m glad you asked!! I’ll be going on a tangent about this since I am filled to the brim with ideas of an evil Jonathan :’) Where he’s extremely obsessive for David, to the point of manipulation and hurting him in the process/breaking their covenant.

And story/drama wise, I’ve definitely come up with a lot of ideas within these narratives loll. Since an evil Jonathan au is such an interesting idea to explore!! I usually take him being more obsessive of David. He sees David easy to manipulate and to love, someone he can hold onto, therefore he presents himself to David as the only person David can depend on. He uses their covenant to be “bound” with him, and wants David just for himself and nothing more, to the point of insanity. That’s right. Basically, I have Jonathan to be so obsessed, to where he loves David as much as Saul hates him.

It’s mainly because Jonathan has no hope at this point, and he needs something to hold onto. He’s been brought up as Israel’s prince, and is constantly pressured by his father, yet he is left with no purpose after G-d and Samuel stripped away the kingdom. He watches as his father’s mind deteriorates while his house crumbles around him. But then there’s David. Jonathan wants to hate him, but David is too good in his eyes to be hated. With David, he finds a purpose. He can feel loved, devoted, and be able to use him. David was his last resort. Yet, all of this adds up to his chronic obsession, leading him to harm and even kill those keeping him from David, or anyone who seeks David’s demise, like his father.

Jonathan just becomes more unhinged as time passes, and I have him literally become like Saul the more he pursues after David out of desire to have him. He will not let him go whatsoever. And seeing Jonathan’s obsession, David begins to fear him. And well, I can say that Jonathan wouldn’t take this lightly at all… and he’ll manipulate him to an extent in various ways, even to the point of harming him at desperate measures… but to the point when his sanity absolutely crumbles.

Since he has nothing to look to other than taking up the Lord’s anointed, the chosen king, into his own hand, being able to control and to love him for himself, would ‘cause Jonathan’s spiral into obsessive madness.

And that’s usually my take on evil Jonathan LOL, but I also have another au where Saul convinces Jonathan enough to hate David, and to kill him, when Jonathan chooses his father’s loyalty over David’s in order to protect his house from David’s house threatening him. And of course, this comes with a lot of tension you’d expect between David and Jonathan. But also, I have Jonathan again try and manipulate David with his love, but out of deceit. The more he knows about David, the better chance he and his father has of killing him. Knowing David and everything about him as he gains his trust with his love will make Jonathan 10x as dangerous as Saul.

And that’s my usual take ackk 😭 and oh boi, and I do have ANOTHER au, but this au is like two aus combined where Jonathan survives and becomes king, but his sanity wavers from all the pressure around him. I haven’t really fleshed out that idea yet, but I’m just saying, I have thought about that one as well! Which goes to show how many aus I can come up with this idea lollll. It’s so fun honestly <33

Aghh, I rambled a lot did I? 🥲 hehe, but those were just some of the ideas I have! <3 I like coming up with aus, and I have even more lmao

#bible fandom #jonathan #au #evil au #ask #book of samuel #david and jonathan #rambling

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lotusflowersimagines · 1 year ago

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If your still doing requests can you do one where Arturo,David or Charles from DRDT dating a Girlfriend who just like Carrie who suffers mistreatment from bullies and her mother and suffers the blood prank when crowned Prom Queen only difference the girlfriend didn't kill anyone and doesn't have powers like Carrie

This was a difficult one because I don't know much about Carrie (I have honestly not seen it in YEARS) and it sounds like you wanted a minific for it. I hope I can make up for it by including all of the characters and turning it into hcs/scenario instead as i'd hate to otherwise screw up your request because of my lack of knowledge. I hope you are still happy with this!

NOTES: Non-Despair AU, romantic Character/Reader relationship, Fem reader, hurt-comfort, David isn't "good" or "evil" he's just a guy going through things, cw for bullying; public humiliation and a bad home life for the reader, cw mentioned blood, cw briefly mentioned vomit on Charles', cw Charles going through an episode

~ David C., Charles C. and Arturo G. with a Fem s/o who suffers the 'blood prank' during Prom!

David Chiem

To David you meant absolutely everything, he must have trusted you a lot to get into a relationship with you- so in turn you probably trust him just as much; meaning he probably already knew about what you go through on a day to day basis

He hates that someone as wonderful as you has to suffer through such horrible treatment from the people around you and silently wishes they'd get whats coming to them

He's absolutely making sure to be around whenever he can, because while he isn't the most intimidating person in the world- his social status is no joke, and he even flocks some people towards him as fans who he's quick to brush off; he knows what they did to you and he refuses to pretend he doesn't

It actually does keep some of the heat off of you and although it's not a lot, you're still thankful he's around and make sure to tell him how appreciative you are of him

You do remind David that you don't just keep him around to feel safe from bullying, and that he means a lot to you no matter what, to which he's very thankful for because even if he knows it's still nice to be reassured!

When you told David you wanted to attend Prom this year, he had his doubts and made sure to voice his concerns. It's not that he didn't want to see his star shine, he just didn't want to see you 'fall'

However when he saw that determined look in your eyes and how hopeful you were- he just couldn't say no to you; you could say you inspired him in a way

David was happy to help you get ready for Prom if you'd let him, you even invited him as a +1 to attend!

He made sure to look his best for you, but took into consideration that you wanted him to look the way he wanted; since you've always told him how you love him for him being himself and not someone putting up an overly positive front

On the night of prom David was there to help you sneak out of your house, when he saw your outfit for the first time he was left starstruck, but you had to drag him out of it because you were on a time-crunch for attendance!

So far so good, people only spared a few glances at the two of you.. but the night was left unbothered as the two of you went to town! David knew he'd be longingly remembering these moments with you for a long time

As you were crowned Prom Queen, David was looking at you from below the stage with such adoration and love in his eyes. He was so happy for you in this moment but.. David of all people knew good things never lasted long

The second the blood fell onto you he was in complete shock. When everyone around him started laughing at you, he was overwhelmed with rage- he snapped and began yelling at people, running to your side as he shoved people aside

He knew he couldn't do anything in this moment, not about them, but he could do something about you. He had to get you away from there

Watching you just except your fate on that stage, covered in blood.. thats going to haunt him for a bit, it really irked him; but he understood how you felt in a way

It's part of the reason it was easier to comfort you, he made sure to assure you wholeheartedly that he wouldn't let you get in trouble with your mother or anything like that..

Instead, he snuck you back to his dorm at Hopes Peak, making sure to get you something to change into even if he had to dig through his wardrobe, or show up to at Levi's door for the key to the Ultimate Fashion lab and "borrow" some clothes for you

He made sure to respect your privacy and leave the room while you got cleaned up, but afterwards he was very adamant on you staying the night at the very least.. he didn't want you to have to go through your mother's scolding after the night you just had

David planned to have a long discussion with you about leaving your school, or at the very least a possible method of helping you. He couldn't stand seeing someone like you getting hurt like this over and over again.. and he wasn't going to.

"Y/N, this can't possibly go on. I can't stand seeing you laughed at and bullied anymore, please at least consider what I have to say, even if it's not what you want to hear…"

Charles Cuevas

Charles was honestly new to this whole "love" thing, but he was certain that he cared very very deeply for you and seeing you hurt frustrated him to no end

He's a bit… ignorant of your struggles at first, not intentionally- he just couldn't quite grasp it in full, until he saw what you had to go through for himself

He couldn't believe your mother could be so? unnecessarily cruel to you- and for what?! Then ontop of that, seeing you being subject to teasing and harassment at your school that was honestly completely unwarranted? He was royally pissed

He wasn't quite sure how to help you though. He's not very good at comforting you and he's not exactly in any position of power to stop these things from occurring

Of course, he would still try; going to your principal or teachers and informing them of the intense bullying that students go through and how they should be taking responsibility but they do lackluster PSA's that honestly.. don't change a thing for your situation

You might reassure Charles as best you can, saying things like "I'm fine, really." or "It's nothing new, i'll get through it." but he isn't buying it whatsoever, not that he blames you for thinking that way.. he knows it's just how the people around you have shaped your mindset

Charles found himself seeking Whit for help on how to comfort you, since he's not very good at it really; he'll try his best to at least be there for you to help you through these struggles knowing that it makes you feel even a little bit better

Now the day you told him you wanted to attend prom at your school, he thought you might be "joking" or something

When you informed him you were actually very serious about this and were asking for his help, he was both concerned and conflicted on how to approach this

On one hand, he thought you were out of it to be asking this of him- you knew what would happen, didn't you? But on the other hand, he wanted to fulfill your wishes and at least give it a try; longing to see you happy and at peace for once

With a bit of convincing he caved and decided he'd help you, but only if you brought him aswell as he wanted to keep an eye on you

He seemed quite irritated a lot of the time, but truly it was out of care for you- he just didn't want to see you in a constant state of hurting like this. You thought this would be a good opportunity for the both of you to let loose a little, maybe nobody would even notice you were there

Charles probably helped you pick out your outfit, insisting you wore something that didn't stain easily as a preemptive measure against any disasters that may occur, which ended up proving useful in the end to some extent

However, the night he helped you sneak out of your home, he was still left in awe with a large blush on his face seeing you dressed fancy. He was at a loss for words, but tried his best to let you know how amazing you looked in your outfit

Arriving to prom, you could tell he was nervous just from the way he was gripping your hand- honestly just as nervous as you might have been- but you both were somewhat prepared for anything that might happen and that you would look out for eachother

And what do you know? Nobody had even said a word to you the whole night, you two were able to spend prom wordlessly pouring your hearts out to eachother, despite your shared anxieties

When you were crowned as Prom Queen, Charles was not only shocked, and happy.. but concerned? I mean, didn't most of the students in your school think lesser of you?

He didn't really have time to wonder, because in his eyes time seemed to slow when the bucket of blood was spilled over your head, soaking you in it

Charles wasn't even sure what happened at first, he felt sick to his stomach and immediately hurled. It was honestly horrible, he didn't even hear everyone laughing at you and started going through an episode

You were honestly more concerned for him, you probably didn't know of his phobia of blood until just now; you didn't even want to get near him because you were covered in the stuff, but you had to get the two of you out of there ASAP

You wiped your hand on some table cloth and covered his eyes, running out of there in tears. This couldn't have gone more wrong, and all at the last second no less

You were unsure of what to do, you might not have even had any experience in this sort of thing- not that you could help Charles anyways since you were soaked in blood. You ended up fishing out his phone and calling Teruko to come pick him up

However when she saw you there she immediately understood what happened, bringing you both to Hopes Peak and escorting Charles back to his room

She gave you the key to her room and told you that you could clean yourself up and borrow some of her clothes, she had to at least.. attempt to help Charles through his condition

After all was said and done, you were just about ready to leave and just go home.. wanting tonight to be over. You were surprised to see Charles, still quite shaken up, but asking you to stay the night

You agreed, as you felt you had quite a lot to apologize for; but when you and him were alone in his room, all he wanted to do was apologize to you and try to plan some way to make it up to you, even if he wasn't thinking straight enough to know what exactly he'd do

"Y-Y/N.. I apologize for my.. reaction. I-I don't know what happened, truthfully. But.. it's not your fault, and I w-want to make it up to you. Please stay the night, you shouldn't have to go home after that."

Arturo Giles

Arturo loves you as his girlfriend very deeply and makes sure you absolutely know it, which is why when he was informed of your bullying, he was absolutely livid.

He couldn't possibly understand why anyone would ever treat you with anything but respect! They should be bowing to you as you walk by, so what gave them the right?

Unfortunately Arturo isn't the best at shielding you from the bullying, but he will stand up to your defense if it happens in front of him and tear into your bullies' physical appearence until you either pulled him away or he got you away from them

He probably knew the mistreatment didn't stop in school, he may not seem like it but he's more aware of the little things about a person when he sees them as a person, and he definitely views you as such even if his obsessive tendancies still get the best of him sometimes

He himself doesn't have the best home life either, so it's not as if he can swoop you off your feet and take you away from there, no matter how much he would love to

When he heard you would be attending Prom this year, he was quite excited for you! He wanted so badly to see you in a beautiful dress and living out your dream as the Prom Queen!

But he had his doubts. No matter how much he had already seen you as a queen, he knew better than to assume everyone else in your school would; Arturo isn't one to give people like your bullies a second chance or even a first

You knew your mother was against the idea of this, but she didn't have to know you were going right? It didn't take much for Arturo to buckle under and help you, he only had one condition: that he'd attend as your +1

And so he did, he helped you find the most beautiful dress that fit you- or if you already had one in mind, he'd try and help you with accessorizing! He wanted to get a sneak peak at your outfit so he could dress similarly, but also wanted to be surprised with what you'd wear

He was just so excited to see you that he was practically seeing stars when he saw you fancied up; he was left tumbling over his words and praising you all the way to your destination

So far the Prom went smoothly, it seemed as though your bullies had finally learned their place! He had hope that it'd continue on like this for the rest of the night

And it did! Words couldn't describe how happy he was to see you crowned as Prom Queen, the smile you had made it seem like time had slowed down just for him to savor the moment until..

Everything just went wrong right before his eyes. He wanted to scream when he saw the blood spilling down- but it was already too late and you were soaked in it

As soon as people started laughing he absolutely lost it, lashing out at everyone and anyone no matter who it was. He couldn't believe it when you stood there and accepted it

Your perfect moment was ruined right before his very eyes and he simply couldn't stand for it, he felt even angrier at the situation when YOU were the one comforting him and telling him to calm down.. of course the anger was never directed at you though

He dragged you away from the party, he could tell how upset you were and he was just as devastated; both of you knowing your mother would punish you severely for returning home like this.. so he made sure that didn't happen

He assured you that he was not letting you suffer through this treatment tonight, he would not stand for this any longer; and he snuck you into his dorm at Hopes Peak

He let you change and shower there, making sure to give to you fresh clothing (he was going to do give it to you as a gift but that didn't matter to him now, he just wanted you to be clean and happy) and when you were done he immediately went at it; pleading with you to switch schools even if you wanted to stay because of how good the school was

He helped you as best he could that night, and made up for the crown you lost by telling you how much he sincerely loved you and promised he'd do whatever he possibly could to make you happier

After that night, he started saving money up that he got from his surgery work to get you enrolled in the reserve course by roughly next year even if that meant you'd attend for only a year or two, he would not let you suffer like that again and he would pay any price for that- because to him you were priceless

"Y/N, my beautiful, perfect angel.. They may not see you for who you are, but I certainly do. To me, you are everything; and I will prove it to you."

#drdt #drdt x reader #david chiem #charles cuevas #arturo giles #david chiem x reader #charles cuevas x reader #arturo giles x reader

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