Requested on tumblr: I'm actually dying to see more diane stories so could you do something fluffy? like comforting. I would love that!!
Hope you like it <3
Safe heaven
You've been avoiding her calls for a while now, not intentionally of course, you're just swimming with thoughts. Frantically pacing back and forth, Diane dials your number for the umpteenth time. Once again, it goes unanswered, her screen turning black. "Come on, don't do this," she runs a shaky hand through her hair, trying to put an order to her thoughts.
Then your favorite place, the ocean, comes to her mind. Whenever you're upset or feel like taking a break, you drive to the beach. That's where you are.
"Please, be there. Please," as Diane grabs her keys to rush out the door, her mind races with worst case scenarios. In a metter or seconds she is in her car.
You've recently obtained a master degree in English language and linguistics, meaning that you're next in line to be teaching in schools, high schools to be precise. That alone should be great news, however, something definitely bothers you. You only recently turned 26; Diane doesn't know that, but a part of you believes that it won't be easy for you to fit in the role, considering your students won't be much younger than you.
Listening to the waves crashing against the shore has always had the power to quiet down the turmoil inside your heart. Unfortunately for you, today the sea was as calm as a mirror— meaning that your thoughts were louder than ever. You almost regret leaving the house. In the meantime Diane's heart races at incredible speed once she stops the car and gets off. She scans the horizon, searching for any signs of you in the distance. She takes a sigh of relief when she recognizes you, a tiny dot sitting down by the shore, legs to the chest, chin on your knees.
She sighs softly, taking quick steps towards you. It takes her a bunch of seconds before she drops to her knees, right beside you. "Darling, hey," her voice trembles a bit when she calls you. You feel her hand stroking the back of your head and you turn around. You say her name in such a tired tone that the woman can't help but frown. "I've been trying to reach you. You didn't pick up any of my calls," she doesn't mean it as reproach and she makes sure you know that. However, the reality of the situation hits you hard. She exhales, attempting to smile, "I was so worried," she breathes out. You close your eyes and take in a deep breath. "Sorry, I-I'm sorry, gosh, I don't know what came over me—", you try to find a good reason to all this but truth be told there isn't one, "The sea isn't even cooperating with me today," a bitter smile tugs at your lips as you point at the still flat surface in front of you.
Diane's heart shatters at the sadness in your voice, the slight furrow of your brows. "Baby," she brushes a strand of hair from your face, to better expose your beautiful gaze. She doesn't fail to notice how you struggle to ward off the tears threatening to spill from your eyes. "I'm fine," you croak out unconvincingly. Diane lightly rolls her eyes, "Are you?", she asks softly, playing with the tips of your hair, curling it around her finger. A part of you feels pathetic for how you're acting. You're an adult, meaning that you're supposed to act like one. Your voice breaks slightly, "I'm pathetic, I'm sorry— I don't know why I'm like this."
Tears prickle at the corner of Diane's eyes, her demeanor soon shifts. If there is something she can't stand is when you treat yourself poorly like that. "Do not say that, you hear me? You're not pathetic. Something is clearly bothering you," she says, her voice devoid of any kind of hesitation. "But I shouldn't—", you sniffle and she interjects, hushing you softly. "Whatever you're feeling is valuable. It doesn't make you pathetic, but human," she insists, leaning closer to you, grazing her thumb over your cheekbone. With downcast eyes, you mutter, "But I worried you. I am a 26 years old woman and I still worry you with my childish behaviors," you pout.
Rolling her eyes, Diane affectionately strokes the tip of your nose, "Your age doesn't mean anything, sweetheart. You're my girlfriend. I will never stop feeling this way towards you. And even when there is no reason to worry, I'll still act crazy because you're not just anybody, you're my family," she confesses, making you smile in return. A blush comes to your cheeks too that Diane doesn't fail to notice. "That's incredibly corny—", you comment amusedly. She grins, "but you love it," she pokes your arm. "Amen to that", you both giggle at that. Diane is the sweetest, most caring person you've ever met in your life. A part of you often wonders who would you be without her. "Will you tell me what's going on?", she whispers before placing a gentle kiss against your forehead.
You sigh. You know you owe her an explanation. "It's just—" The waves you were supposed to see in the ocean, you see them in her eyes. "It's about what's to come."
Tears shimmer in your eyes, the sense of guilt coming back to you. Diane's heart tightens, and without a word, she moves closer and pulls you in her lap. "Can you be more specific?", she coos, her cheek rubs gently against yours. You find yourself smiling at the gesture. A smile she quickly reciprocates. You admire Diane like no other. Not only is she a wonderful girlfriend, protective and affectionate, but she is also an amazing teacher.
"I start teaching next semester," you blurt out. These words put together feel so unrealistic, you akwardly rub the back of your head. Diane's eyes open wide in slow motion, then she gasps and squeals like a child for how excited she is. She slightly pulls away to look at you in the eyes, probably to make sure you're serious. "No way— How? When did you find out?", your mouth tugs into a smile that you try to curb, touched by Diane's enthusiasm. You nibble on your bottom lip, averting her gaze for a brief moment, feeling suddenly overwhelmed all over again as you remember what happened earlier that day. "I received an email by the school principal— it looks like there is a vacancy in English linguistics and he offered me the job."
Diane's hand fly to her mouth to stifle a gasp. Her beautiful chocolate eyes well up with fresh tears. Of joy this time, and pride for what you've finally achieved.
Next thing you feel are Diane's arms securely wrapped around you, "You have no idea how proud of you I am, sweetheart. You deserve this more than you know," she pulls back only a bit to look at you in the eyes. She is weeping now. Her hands roam up and down your face and shoulders. Her happiness is contagious and you can't help but smile along with her. Her eyes shine so bright you feel silly for the worries that have been haunting your mind and weighting on your heart.
You were supposed to celebrate, throw a party, even jumping in the ocean with your clothes on would have been better than getting depressed over silly concerns. Truth is, you want to be great at this, because this is what you love doing and what you've been preparing for your whole life. And at the same time, you want to live up to everyone's expectations. Especially Diane's. It's not that you want to compare yourself to her, but a part of you feels like you're not as good as her. Diane has much more experience than you, and students love her and respect her both as teacher and person.
That's probably what worries you the most, the possibility of not being taken seriously, not only because this is new territory to you, but also due to your young age. "Thanks," you breathe out, forcing a better smile out of you. "It really means the world to me." Then, you sweep your tongue over your lips, and Diane takes that as signal of distress from you. She smiles softly at you and opens her arms for you, "Come back here, silly." You don't let her tell you twice. Soon goosebumps rise over your skin, as she start cuddling you. "You don't seem thrilled to work with me," she whispers teasingly in your ear. You let out a quiet giggle, and shake your head, "I am. I feel honored, actually."
She hums in response, holding you a little tighter, "Then, what is it?", you lift your chin to meet her eyes and wait a couple of seconds before mastering the courage to tell her what is bothering you, "Your students respect you and see you as a role model," you state. Diane frowns, without understand where this is going yet. "I can't help but wonder if they will be showing me the same respect." Her mouth falls partially agape, her heart shutters at your self doubt. You've proved her your worth countless of times. You helped her grade her students' essays and gave her precious advices regarding lesson planning. "Sweetheart, they are gonna love you," she says, without a hint of hesitation in her tone. You try to protest, but she doesn't let you.
"Listen to me. Your young age isn't an obstacle but a bridge between you and them. Your passion for what you do, the dedication you put to get where you are now will be a source of inspiration for them," with a tender smile, Diane moves your hair on your left shoulder. You hum deep in thought. Her fingertips send you a shiver through your spine, when she strokes a sweet spot behind your neck, now clear from hair. "I'll have to keep an eye on you though," you frown at that. She shrugs and grins nonchalantly when you ask her what she means, "I can easily imagine your soon to be students fall deeply for their new teacher."
A playful hum comes to your lips: the concern you've been feeling suddenly subsides. "That is never gonna happen, Diane," you can't help but chuckle at her assumptions. You honestly love this side of her, when she is jealous, protective and a little bit possessive over you. It makes you feel like you're part of something, it gives you a sense of belonging.
"Oh, trust me, I'll make sure of that," her eyes sparkle mischievously, as she leans in to place a loud kiss on your cheek. You chuckle again, "Jealous, are we?" Diane's lips curve into a playful grin, "I simply defend what's mine, sweetheart," she says in a breathed whisper. You lift your hand in mid air, your fingers meeting her face. "I'm only yours, Diane," you speak with your heart, voice laced with emotion, "God, you're all I ever wanted."
It's obvious how she makes you feel. It shows in your eyes, in the way your cheeks quickly go on flame, and in that funny feeling between your legs that tickles you every time you're close to her. Diane owns you in the broadest sense of the term. "You're my treasure," Leaning in, she brushes her lips against yours, kissing you at a gentle rhythm. When she parts her mouth, you stroke the inside with a gentle flick of your tongue. Pouring in all your love, you kiss her with such an intensity, as if it was the last time. She breathes your name in your mouth and you moan hers, clinging to her clothes as she pulls onto your hair.
When you're in need to catch your breath, you part slightly but still being in each other's bubble. "Are you really mine?", she asks, her voice barely audible. You take her hand and place it upon your heart, "Do you feel that?" you ask, with a tender smile. She nods, already feeling emotional, "Every beat of my heart is for you, and that's never gonna change." A single tear slides down Diane's cheek as you speak, as she mutters your name in disbelief. You point a finger at her jokingly. "That's all your fault. You made me a hopeless sentimental," Diane laughs heartily, when you feign a grimace, "Oh you—I absolutely love you" her nose brushes against yours as she leans close to you once again.
You're both her obsession and her cure. She can't do without you. Neither can you. Your fingers come up to her face, in the attempt to wipe those tears glistening at the corners of her eyes.
"Maybe we should soon put a ring on it," when that sentence comes to Diane's ears, she looks at you like she's seen a ghost, "W-what?", it's no secret to you that you want to get married someday, and you know that deep down Diane shares the same desire. You often fantasized about walking down the aisle together. Truth be told, you two actually started talking about it after only three weeks of dating. The topic often came out masked by a playful tone, however, both of you were always incredibly serious about it. "I'm not just saying it, Diane. And of course this is not an official proposal, because, I wouldn't do this to you like this, you deserve a proper one. I'm just—," you shrug nervously, "you know..."
Diane can't help but chuckle at that, "You're asking me, if you can actually ask me?"
A humorous giggle escapes your lips at her question. Nodding your head you say, "Pretty much, yes. Is it weird?", as response, Diane reaches out to gently caress your face, getting lost in your gaze as deep as the ocean, "That's the sweetest thing you've ever told me, and my answer is yes— it's always going to be yes," she grins and pecks the tip of your nose. With a small, nervous laugh, you stutter, "Really?" And she nods so eagerly and convincingly, you find yourself on cloud nine. "Oh, gods!" You sigh dreamily, and she arches an eyebrow at that, "I'll have the most beautiful wife in the world."
Diane lightly shakes her head, playfully nudging you, "Not at all. That would be me," she argues and when you're ready to object, she pecks your lips to keep you quiet. "And please, don't you ever doubt yourself anymore like that," she says serious again. "Cross my heart," you lift your pinkie and she lifts hers sealing the promise with a joyful smile. Then she looks at the sea, still holding you in her arms. After a moment of silence, she confesses, "Are you aware that now I'll think about it every single day until you ask me," you grin and absentmindedly stroke her arms, wrapped around you, "To await a pleasure is itself a pleasure," you mutter so seriously, you can't help and neither can Diane but to burst out laughing.