#dieter bravo series
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baby, i'm-a want you — (ch 1) "session one"
gif by me
pairing: joel miller/dieter bravo (just this time. main pairing is still javi/joel)
rating: E (18+) mdni
word count: 3.5k
content: swearing, joel and tommy's southern accents being cute af, dieter being a menace, joel being awkward af (but it's cute), cringey porn dialogue, male masturbation (briefly), one (1) handjob, one (1) blowjob (it's messy), lmk if i missed anything!
dividers: @saradika-graphics
beta: @qveerthe0ry (ily ♥)
summary: javier peña has been doing this a long time. he's really good at his job. joel miller? not so much. he started doing this to get some extra cash to support his daughters. what happens when they're supposed to do a scene together? aka, the au where most of the ppcu boys are gay porn stars~
(read this first ->) prologue | series masterlist
Joel never would have guessed he’d do something like this ten years ago. Hell, not even five years ago. He’s not even totally sure how he got here, if he’s honest with himself.
He just remembers an, admittedly shady, business-looking man coming up to him and shoving a business card in his face. He asked if Joel had ever slept with men before. Joel was taken aback and thought he was coming onto him in a really bizarre way. He had, but that was none of this man’s business as far as he was concerned.
“There’s no pressure, I promise. Here, my website is on the card. If you see what you like, you gimme a call, okay?” The man had winked, grabbed his coffee, and left.
Joel was left sitting in the middle of that coffee shop stunned into silence.
Later that night, sitting in front of the laptop Sarah nearly forced on him, he clumsily typed (using only his index fingers) the name of the website from the business card into the search bar.
Love Bites
The name and the man, Max Phillips according to the card, and his invasive question should’ve told him everything he needed to know, but Joel wasn’t prepared for the absolute onslaught of nudity he was met with.
“Jesus–” Joel mumbled to himself, slamming the laptop closed. Not that that would take it away, but he could hope. He sighed and looked up at the ceiling, shaking his head to himself. “The fuck you get yourself into, Miller?” He grumbled.
Slowly, and with one eye closed, he opened his laptop again. Once he got both eyes on it again, the website wasn’t… too bad. Well, it was still a porn site, but it wasn’t anything he hadn't seen before. He started looking around some more and didn’t bother turning it down. He lived alone now, both girls having moved out within the last year or so. He missed the hell out of them, and frankly, found himself bored more often than not. He and Tommy still owned Miller Contracting, but Joel stuck to the delegating and organizing part now. He had too many knee and back problems to keep up on the actual building part.
His finger rolled over to the “profiles” section of the website. He raised a brow and clicked on the trackpad hesitantly. There were several headshots of the men that made content for the website. He felt his cock twitch in his jeans and cleared his throat awkwardly, exhaling heavily. Well, it… had been a while. What could it hurt, right?
He did have a lot of options…
Dark eyes trailing over the men on the site, he smiled softly. They all had little biographies that explained what their sexualities and preferences were. He snorted a little at seeing two different cowboys; one gay and a little older than himself, the other bisexual and perhaps around the same age. The younger cowboy had a prominent mustache and had a preference for “tying people up”. Bit on the nose in Joel’s opinion, but there was something for everyone. The older cowboy tended toward more amateur-style, “romantic” videos. Joel’s heart softened a little, but decided he wasn’t really in the mood for that sort of thing.
In his search, he found just about everything; a messy haired, self proclaimed “adventurous” sort, a masked man that liked to roleplay, a clean cut looking man that considered himself a “romantic”. You name it, they probably had it. But his eyes landed on a particular man…
He had deep, intense eyes and a thick mustache. His hair was styled like he walked out of the 80s and he was wearing a thin gold chain. He had a bit of a Burt Reynolds thing going on, and normally that wouldn’t be something Joel was into, but this time, well…
Joel clicked on his – Javier’s – page and started browsing the videos he had available. His bio said he was “fluid and polyamorous”, but Joel didn’t know what that meant. Wow, he was… popular. That didn’t surprise Joel at all, but his eyes landed on one of Javier’s “solo” videos. It looked like it was filmed in his apartment, but it probably wasn’t from how well lit it was. The video started off like Joel guessed all of them did; a fancy graphic with the words “Love Bites” in the center of the screen before the sound effect of someone taking a bite out of something, and a faint moan. The tips of Joel’s ears warmed, but he pressed on, watching Javier walk onto screen and sit in the middle of the couch that was in frame.
Javier’s jeans were very tight, but maybe even moreso because of how fucking hard he looked to be. Joel swallowed a lump in his throat, his cock twitching again. Javier had an easy smirk on his handsome face, but he seemed like he didn’t have the cockiness that Joel expected a pornstar to have. The video seemed like it was personally sent to Joel and that thought made Joel’s cock stand to attention almost comically quickly. Unzipping his own jeans, he groaned at the constriction leaving, allowing him to breathe easier. He squeezed his cock and looked back at the video, Javier already getting started without him. He was stroking his own cock slowly, almost teasingly, biting a plump bottom lip. Joel moaned and shut his eyes for a quick second as he took himself in hand–
Ring, ring.
Joel groaned, squeezing his cock harder, and dug his phone out of his pocket. Tommy. He sighed and paused the video on Javier’s blissed out face and big hand wrapped around his–
Ring, ring.
“Christ, Tommy, what is it?” He grumbled, pressing the too-new-for-his-liking phone to his ear.
“Jesus, who pissed in your oatmeal this mornin’?” Tommy’s easy voice filtered in, a chuckle wrapped around his words. “And why are ya outta breath? Ya okay?”
“What–? Yeah, ‘m fine, Tommy. Why y’callin’?”
“Wonderin’ if ya could stop by tonight. Maria’s makin’ meatloaf and I know ya like it.”
Joel did really like Maria’s meatloaf. He sighed to himself and shut his laptop, his cock having softened considerably since hearing his brother’s voice. “Yeah,” he cleared his throat, trying to subtly zip up his jeans while he held the phone against his shoulder. “I’ll come over in a little bit, just gotta… gonna make a phone call.”
“Ooh, ya finally have a date, old man?”
“Can it,” Joel grunted. “‘M forty-three. Ain’t that old. And no, I was gonna call Sarah. See how her classes are goin’.”
“Send her our love, will ya? ‘N tell her she’ll have a cousin soon. Maria’s ‘bout to pop any day. ‘M scared to death,” Tommy sighed. The happiness was clear in his voice, though. Joel was happy for him, and smiled to himself. “How’s Ellie doin’, by the way?”
“Good. Think she said somethin’ ‘bout joinin’ a… roller derby team? Don’t rightly know, but,” he shrugged to himself. “Sounded like somethin’ she’d like, way she was describin’ it.”
Talking on the phone with Tommy always went the same way. He’d find a way to chew up a couple hours of your time, but Joel never minded. Once they said their goodbyes and their I-love-yous, Joel picked up Max Phillips’ business card and sighed, rubbing his thumb over the phone number.
What could it hurt, right?
That was two years ago. He’s been working for Love Bites for two years and had been avoiding Javier Peña as much as he could.
Joel’s never been good at… initiating conversations. Ellie would always give him shit for it. She usually went up to whoever had caught Joel’s eye and slyly made it her goal to get them to come over to him.
But Ellie wasn’t here and she never would be. His girls knew what he did and even if they were a little concerned for him at first, they saw how much happier he’d been since joining. He was healthier, gaining a bit of “chub” as Sarah called it, and a healthier glow to his skin. He was on camera more often now, so he had to eat well and work out a little more. He didn’t do anything too crazy, and the audience that watched his videos had a lot of positive opinions and comments about his physique. It made him blush to think about it for too long, so he tried not to.
What was he saying?
Oh, right. Avoiding Javier Peña.
He’d had a huge crush on him ever since that first video he watched, and frankly, didn’t want to make a fool of himself if he talked to him. He’s filmed one video with him and it was the best Joel had felt in years. He almost came too quickly, and the video was supposed to be twenty minutes long. They had to pause so Joel could calm himself down, but Javier was patient and lovely with him. Javier had been doing this a lot longer than Joel had, so he wasn’t worried, which made Joel feel better. Just a little embarrassed. Afterwards, he had to leave, making up a story about seeing his girls for dinner that night.
“Javi!”
Joel’s eyes snapped up from his phone. He was in the middle of texting Sarah, saying that he’d call her when he got home from work. He had a scene with Dieter today.
And there he was. God. Joel’s cheeks flushed at the sight of Javier standing in the hall in his robe. He must’ve just finished his scene with Shane, the new kid. He couldn’t hear what he was saying, but the sound of Javier’s deep, commanding voice was enough to send a chill down Joel’s spine. Before he knew it, Javier was talking animatedly with Steve, another actor, as they walked off down the hall and disappearing around a corner.
He knew, realistically, relationships between porn actors could happen. Silva and Jake had been together for years. Joel’s problem with that was, well… Joel. His last real relationship was with Sarah’s mom years ago, and when the girls were in high school he had a relationship with this guy, Ezra for a while.
Smack!
“Jesus–!” Joel jumped, holding onto one of his ass cheeks protectively. Only one person would have done that.
“Hey, handsome,” Dieter grinned, sticking a hand down the back pocket of Joel’s jeans and squeezing. “Getting lost in Javi’s eyes again?” He winked.
“N-no! I am not,” Joel grumbled, finishing off his text and shoving his phone in his pocket.
Dieter snorted and rolled his eyes, then removed his hand to hold it out for Joel to take. “C’mon, big guy. You get to cum on my face today,” he smirked.
Filming with Dieter always felt good. He was a bit wild for Joel’s personal tastes, but he always made sure Joel was comfortable, and today was no different.
Joel was playing a “plumber” that needed to work on Dieter’s “pipes”. This of course led to Dieter offering to “pay” in his own way.
“Oh, come on, big guy like you doesn’t need money, right?” Dieter recited his lines expertly, running a hand down Joel’s t-shirt covered chest. “Bet it gets lonely doing this sort of work, huh?”
Joel had gotten a lot better at the acting part of things over the past couple of years. He was super stiff (and not in the right way) in the beginning, but now, he easily plastered on a smirk, eyes glued to Dieter’s lips. “Sometimes,” he shrugged, a big hand hovering over Dieter’s shoulder. Dieter saw the hand out of the corner of his eye and grinned, curling his fingers around Joel’s thick wrist and moving it down to his ass.
Joel smirked, squeezing the plump flesh appreciatively. “Bit forward o’ you,” he rumbled.
Dieter visibly shivered and bit his lip. “Sexy guy like you, of course I am,” he breathed. He leaned forward and kissed Joel messily, the hand on Joel’s torso moving down to unzip his jeans. Joel was already painfully hard and grunted into Dieter’s mouth when his pants were opened and lowered enough to pull his cock free. Dieter moaned and curled his fingers around Joel’s shaft, pumping rhythmically.
They stayed like that for a while; open mouth kisses, heavy breathing from Joel, and Dieter’s moans being picked up by the mics.
Dieter pulled away to look down at the thick cock in his hand and bit his lip at the sight. “Fuck,” he groaned, his own cock twitching in his sweats. “Can I suck your cock?” He looked up at Joel demurely, eyes big and nearly black with desire.
Joel forgot he was supposed to be acting for a minute and grunted, hips bucking into Dieter’s grasp. “F-fuck, yeah,” he nodded, eyes glazed over. Dieter smiled and guided Joel over to the couch on the set. Technically, Dieter was supposed to get on his knees in the “kitchen”, but he knew Joel wouldn’t be able to stand for that long with his back problems. Sometimes Dieter’s improv classes came in handy. Max couldn’t complain too much, as long as Dieter sucked Joel off, then the video was still following the script.
Joel grunted as he sat, hard cock swaying slightly. Dieter giggled a little and happily got down on his knees, hands traveling up and down Joel’s thighs appreciatively. “Such a pretty cock,” he hummed, licking his lips as he watched it twitch in front of him, a drop of pre-cum gathering at the tip.
“Why dontcha put that mouth to use, then?” Joel smirked, gripping the base and tapping the head against Dieter’s cheek. “Want your discount, right?”
Dieter smiled and opened his mouth wide, eyes shut in pure bliss. Joel gripped Dieter’s messy curls and held him still as he hit the head of his cock against Dieter’s tongue. Dieter moaned and opened his eyes, watching Joel’s face for any cues to stop. They never came, but it was something they all had to keep an eye on. When everything seemed to be going well, he happily wrapped his mouth around the head of Joel’s cock and started bobbing his head up and down.
He moaned, the vibrations traveling down Joel’s cock and up his spine, making Joel groan in return. “Mmm, knew you’d be good with your mouth,” he grinned, holding the back of Dieter’s head to set a pace Joel liked better.
Dieter heard a cameraman move to his right to get a better angle of his mouth, so he amped it up a little. He got messier, saliva dripping down along the sides of Joel’s shaft. Joel moaned weakly, resting his head on the back of the couch, but keeping one of his hands tangled in Dieter’s messy curls. Dieter started bobbing his head slower, eyes locked on Joel’s face as he moved further down his shaft, taking as much as he could down his throat. He choked slightly and pulled off, pre-cum and saliva covering his mouth and Joel’s cock. He smiled up at Joel and panted heavily, curling his fingers around the base to pump the thick cock.
Joel’s eyes rolled back and he grunted, hips bucking off the couch. “C’mere,” he breathed, heavy work boots landing heavily on the set floor as he stood. “Gonna fuck your face.”
Dieter shivered at the low timbre of Joel’s voice and nodded happily up at him. He pulled his sweats down and gripped his own cock in hand and started stroking himself rhythmically. Dieter opened his mouth for Joel obediently and nearly choked again when Joel shoved his cock down Dieter’s throat. He moaned weakly when Joel’s hips started moving, his heavy balls slapping against Dieter’s chin.
Dieter just had to take it, the lewd sounds of Joel fucking his face filling the otherwise quiet room. He fucking loved it because Joel was subtly massaging Dieter’s scalp and it sent shivers down his spine. His fist was almost a blur over his own cock and tears leaked out of his eyes, a blush high on his cheeks.
“Mmm, bein’ such a good boy f’me,” Joel grunted, biting his lip to rein it in a little. Dieter moaned at the praise, eyebrows downturned in pleasure. “Yeah? Like bein’ my good boy?”
Dieter whined and nodded as best he could, eyes completely glazed over. Joel slowed down his hips a little and let Dieter breathe for a minute. Dieter panted hard, a near-dopey smile on his face. “Come on my face,” he breathed heavily, extending his tongue for Joel. “Please.”
It was Joel’s turn to shiver as he slapped the head of his cock against Dieter’s face again. “Gonna have to earn it,” Joel smirked, reciting his lines as well as he could.
Dieter whined and pouted up at him, his own hand slowing down a little. He didn’t say anything, letting Joel continue.
“Make me come, and I’ll paint this pretty face o’ yours.”
Dieter’s face lit up and he curled his fingers around Joel’s shaft. He watched Joel’s face while he wrapped his lips around the head and bobbed his head. His free hand held Joel’s hip and subtly moved to his ass and squeezed. He moaned around Joel’s cock and shut his eyes briefly before obediently looking up at him, big eyes wet and innocent.
“Atta boy,” Joel grunted, cupping Dieter’s face lovingly. Dieter removed his mouth to kiss down his length as he stroked him, attaching his lips to one of Joel’s balls. “Mmm, fuck,” Joel breathed, tipping his head back.
The hand on Joel’s ass moved slightly until one of Dieter’s fingertips prodded at Joel’s asshole. Joel grunted in surprise and smiled down at Dieter. “Really want me all over ya, huh?”
“Yes,” Dieter nodded, sucking one of Joel’s balls into his mouth. “Please.”
“Keep talkin’ like that and– ooh, fuck – Jus’ might get your wish,” Joel panted, shutting his eyes. He felt the build up in his lower stomach, his cock twitching violently in Dieter’s hand. “C’mere, baby boy,” he grinned, taking his cock back to stroke himself over Dieter’s face.
Dieter was buzzing, lifting Joel’s t-shirt to lovingly caress his hairy tummy, mouth open wide and obedient.
Joel felt his balls draw up and his hips buck until– “Fuck–! Shit,” He moaned, thick ropes of come spurting out from the tip of his cock and landing on Dieter’s face and mouth. He caressed Dieter’s hair, thick fingers massaging his scalp while the other hand stroked himself until his balls were completely empty.
Dieter happily licked his mouth clean, and hid his face in Joel’s stomach, whimpering into the sweaty skin. He moaned weakly, his entire body trembling as he came, completely untouched. Dieter was the only one in the cast that could do that, and he loved showing it off as much as he could.
“Shit,” Joel smiled, petting Dieter’s sweaty curls back and out of his face. “Ain’t you a sight.”
“Cut!”
Dieter deflated, a huge grin on his face. He started giggling into Joel’s stomach and smiled up at him. “Fucking love your cock, Joel,” he hummed happily.
“That’s what you always say,” Joel snorted, helping him up onto his feet. Dieter was a little wobbly still and cuddled into Joel’s side. He always got a little clingy after a scene, but Joel didn’t mind. As different as they were, Joel would probably consider Dieter one of his closest friends. It always worked in their favor, their natural chemistry and closeness coming through the cameras.
They were handed a couple towels and some water, the both of them taking them gratefully. Max came up to them, his usual shit-eating grin on his face. Joel always thought Max reminded him of a vampire, with that mischievous glint in his eye that always seemed to be there.
“Great show, boys,” Max started. “Dieter, d’you mind if I steal Joel away for a second?”
Dieter whined and clinged onto Joel tighter. Joel grinned and hugged him back. “Sorry, boss, looks like he ain’t leavin’ anytime soon.”
Max rolled his eyes, but continued anyway. “Fine. Meant to tell you earlier, but things got rolling, you know how it is–”
“What is it, Max?”
“You’ve got a scene with Javier tomorrow.”
If there were a record player anywhere, Joel would probably hear it scratching right about now. Dieter paused too, and looked up at Joel with worried eyes. He knew all about Joel’s crush, and was always telling Joel to just go for it. Joel froze briefly, but tried to school his emotions as best he could.
“O-okay, um. What time?” He asked shakily, gripping Dieter’s fluffy robe tighter.
“I’m thinking around noon? That way Javier can prepare, y’know?”
Preparing was always done before a particularly intense scene. Joel tried really hard not to think about Javier wearing a plug for a while before coming to set.
“Right,” Joel nodded, cheeks going a little pink. “I’ll be there.”
“You’re the best, Joel!” Max snapped his fingers and walked off, talking to a couple of assistants.
Dieter tapped on his chest and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. “You really gotta say something, Joel,” he said softly.
Joel sighed and nodded. He knew that.
He just didn’t know what.
#joel miller#dieter bravo#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller fic#joel miller smut#joel miller series#dieter bravo fanfiction#dieter bravo fic#dieter bravo smut#dieter bravo series#pedro pascal characters#pedro pascal cinematic universe#ppcu fanfiction#oaksfics
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Plastic Hearts, Six: Kiss Me, Bad Karma
pairing: dieter bravo x actress!ofc (Violet Apollo)
rating: E (18+ only, feral!dieter, oral (m&f receiving), unprotected piv, talks of alcohol/drug consumption, talks of sobriety)
wc: 4k
series masterlist | dieter masterlist
Dieter stirred awake after the sun had risen and began to peer in through the curtains. Tugging what he thought was Violet close to his chest, he frowned at the object's lack of warmth and curved. He peeled one eye open to find he’d been spooning a pillow, his stare full of disgust for this vile object who’d taken the place of his lover.
Sitting up, Dieter rubbed at his eyes with the heels of his palms before his ears honed in on a whirring sound coming from across the silent home.
“Vi?” he croaked, deep and raspy and nowhere near fully awake.
“In the gym!” she called back, causing a furrow between Dieter’s brows. He didn’t realize he even had a gym.
Dieter found his robe and slippers before slugging out of the master bedroom and into the house in search of this “gym”, finding it behind a door he always assumed was a closet.
Violet was on the treadmill, her face, neck, and chest covered with sweat as she ran, drawing Dieter’s eyes to the bounce of her breasts.
“Eyes up here,” she ordered with a smirk.
“Are you seriously working out right now? It’s like seven in the morning.”
“It’s eleven, babe,” she corrected with another smile. “Besides, I have a strict routine set for me by my trainer that I need to follow—“
“No, what you need to do is let me fuck you,” he interrupted. “That’ll burn enough calories.”
“Oh, I’m sure,” she rolled her eyes and grinned, slowing the treadmill to a stop. She dabbed her face and chest with a towel as she stepped off the machine and walked right up to Dieter, watching him eye her down like a hungry animal. “I’m sweaty.”
“I don’t give a fuck.” His hands were on her, holding her tight to his frame as he leaned in to lick a stripe up her neck, drunk on her taste. “Fuck, baby. Taste so fucking good.”
“D,” she moaned, her hands fumbling with the tie on his robe before undoing it. He groaned against her pulse as she wrapped her fist around his cock, pumping him up and down while he sucked a mark on her neck.
“C’mere,” he whispered, pulling her to follow him as he took a seat on the padded leather bench. As she stood in front of him, he hooked a finger in her leggings and tugged on the waistband. “Take these off.”
“In a minute,” she whispered, sinking to the floor in front of him. Dieter groaned as she kissed her way up his thighs, her tongue following the trail that led to his cock. “I haven’t had breakfast yet.”
“Shit,” he sighed, his head rolling back as she gripped his cock and began to stroke it while taking his balls into her mouth one at a time. “Fuck, V.”
“That feel good, baby?” she asked innocently, her eyes wide as he lifted his head back up to look down at her with an earnest nod and pleasured scowl. “You want more of my mouth?”
“P-please,” he begged, voice as tense and desperate as his now weeping cock as Violet’s fist stroked up and down slowly, her thumb swiping over the mess to help glide her palm against him. “Please, baby, please.”
“Good boy,” Dieter groaned, his cock pulsing in her hand at the praise. Violet grinned as she leaned in and wrapped her lips around his fat tip, her tongue flicking at his arousal that beaded over it. Dieter was a mess now, moaning and begging for more of her as she bobbed on him, taking him deep into her throat until she was gagging. He laid back against the bench, the plushness of his stomach on full display for her, and she couldn’t deny herself the chance to rub her palm over it’s smoothness. Dieter found her spit-soaked hand and clasped it with his as she took him down her throat again, glucking and sputtering until he slid in with ease.
“You’re gonna make me fucking cum, baby,” he whined, squeezing her hand as her mouth worked his cock in tandem with her fist until that tension building in his spine finally snapped, his cum painting her throat as she took him in deep and kept him there. “Shit, shit, shit—fuck!”
She hummed as she swallowed him down, her eyes locking with his as he sat up and cupped both of her cheeks to pull her off of him before immediately crashing his mouth against hers, not caring how sloppy her face was from her job well done.
“Lay back,” he ordered, watching her as she laid back on the floor before following her. He tugged her leggings off and spread her thighs, marveling at the sight of her bare pussy in the bright light of daytime, her body spread out on the floor of his home gym. “You’re so fucking sexy, baby.”
“Please,” she begged as he placed kisses all over her stomach, worshiping it’s soft give beneath his lips. “I didn’t—“
“Didn’t what?” He looked up at her from between her thighs with a smirk. “Didn’t make me beg? I seem to remember differently.”
“Fuck,” she panted, knowing that look in his eyes. “You’re gonna—“
“Uh-huh,” he nodded, placing a kiss against her clit. “Gonna make you beg, baby.”
Dieter’s hands were firm as they gripped the plushness of her thighs, keeping them spread wide open as he placed open mouthed kisses all over except for where she craved him most, working her up to the point of panting.
“D,” she whined, lifting her hips up to reach his mouth as he stared down at her weeping cunt like he was in the presence of the Holy Grail.
“Such a pretty fucking pussy,” he mumbled, leaning down to give her a kitten lick against her seam, Violet’s strangled cry bringing a grin to his face as he pulled away just as she started to grind against his tongue. “Mm, I don’t know if you want it bad enough yet, baby. I haven’t heard any begging.”
“D, please,” she cried, sliding her hand down her body to her clit to alleviate some of the tension building only to be swatted away by Dieter.
“Baby, you can do better than that.”
“Please, please, please, baby,” she started, sitting up on her elbows to look at him. “Please eat my pussy, D. Please, it feels so good when you—oh, fuck.”
Dieter’s tongue splayed flat over her seam, gathering as much of her slick on his tongue as he licked up to her clit. He tensed the tip of his tongue as he swiped circles over her swollen and throbbing clit, slow and deliberate, before sucking it into his mouth with a pulse. Her hand came to thread through his mess of curls, holding him against her as she looked down at him with a pleasured scowl, her mouth wide open in a breathless cry.
“Dieter, fuck, baby,” she moaned, feeling that string in her belly grow taut as he kept up this routine of licking and flicking and sucking on her until her thighs began to shake and clamp shut around his face. “I’m gonna cum, D. I’m—oh, fuck, I’m gonna come!”
“Dieter!” Andrea’s voice sounded from the living room of his London home, making Violet nearly sob as her orgasm was so fucking close.
“Shh,” he whispered, smoothing over her thigh before pressing a finger into her weeping cunt as he continued with his tongue.
“But she—“
“Could be the Queen herself and I’d still make her wait until you came,” he replied, husky and deep. Violet silenced her moans as Dieter built that tension up again with the help of his finger curling against that devastating spot inside of her in time with his tongue stroking over the swell of her clit. “Come on, baby. Cum for me. I wanna taste it—“
“Fuck,” she gasped, her body seizing and shaking as her release finally came with a silent cry. Dieter nodded at her as he pulled away, his finger still stroking her walls as he watched her lay there on the gym floor, high on him.
“You’re so beautiful,” he muttered as he kissed his way up her stomach until he was hovering over her. She opened her eyes and smiled at him, her fingers lifting to comb his hair back.
“You’re beautiful,” she replied, so full of truth and sincerity he almost believed it. Breathing out a chuckle, he leaned down and kissed her lips in a sweet peck before standing up with a grunt. He helped her to her feet and handed her her leggings, watching as she squeezed them on over her hips and ass, the jiggle of her soft skin making it hard for him to want to go out there and attend to business. Throwing on his robe and tying it, he walked over to the mirrors lining the home-gym wall and checked himself for any obvious signs of having just buried his face in America’s Sweetheart’s cunt.
“Dieter, where are you?” Andrea called again and this time Violet answered.
“We’re coming!” she called back and Dieter smirked at her choice in words as he turned around to face her, earning an eye roll. “I meant literally.”
“Mmhm,” he grinned, pulling her close for a deeper kiss than before. “Let’s see how fast I can get rid of her.”
While Dieter was in his meeting with Andrea to go over his flight schedule for the next month, Violet took a much needed shower and got ready for the day. She tried to fight the urge to present as her best self, knowing that Dieter would likely wear just his robe all day, but she couldn’t shake the insecurity she felt looking at her bare face and un-styled hair in the mirror.
“You need a fucking therapist,” she scolded herself as she began straightening her hair.
“Don’t we all?” Dieter appeared behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist, his chin resting on her shoulder. Violet smiled, setting her straightener down before turning around to face him, her hands combing through his wild and unruly waves.
“You need a haircut. Getting shaggy,” she smirked as she gave his hair a tug, earning a soft moan. “Can I cut it?”
“Are you gonna fuck it up?” he asked, sliding his hands down to squeeze her ass through her jeans.
“No,” she replied, scratching his scalp. “You don’t trust me?”
“I trust you with my life, Apollo,” he replied with a content smile, as though he’d given it thought beyond this moment. “You can cut it for me tonight. I have to go with Andrea to some meetings for the Scorsese project. Might be gone a while, you should go out and savor the London drizzle before we leave.”
“When are you leaving?” she asked, her hands leaving his hair to smooth over the terry cloth of his robe. “I had a flight set for LA in two days because I have a photo shoot and a talk show thing.”
“I have to be in New York in two days for a couple days of press shit, but I’ll be home right after.”
Violet nodded, trying to be content with the way their schedules were almost lining up when really she would’ve preferred to simply not be without him at all. Violet knew better than to get too attached to his presence. She was well aware of how hard it was to maintain relationships in this industry, and knowing that Dieter had two projects coming up that would inevitably keep him away and busy, she had to learn to be okay with the distance.
Dieter must have sensed her slipping away into her thoughts, his lips pressing against hers acting as a sort of grounding. The warmth of his palm cradled her cheek to keep her in the kiss, to keep her out of her head, and she hummed at the heat he radiated, feeling so warm against her cold skin that she thought (and hoped) it would brand her. It wasn’t until he allowed her to turn around and resume her hair styling that she realized the only mark he left on her was an invisible one, one that only they could see and one that only she could feel. She decided she liked it that way better.
“God, I cannot wait to be back in LA,” Lucy shivered, pulling her coat tight as she walked through the city with Violet. “You know it’s 70 degrees there tomorrow? I checked on my weather app. 70 degrees. And here? 40. And fucking raining.”
“I used to want to move here,” Violet added, shaking her head as she buried her face in her chunky scarf. “Fuck that.”
“So,” Lucy sang, nudging her in the side with her elbow. “We gonna talk about you and Dieter?”
“If you want.” Though she played cavalier about it, she couldn’t help the grin that grew on her face at the mere memory of last night and this morning.
Dieter was above and beyond what she thought and hoped he’d be in bed. After the night in the hotel with his cock shoved down the model’s throat, she assumed he was more of a taker in bed, but it couldn’t be further from the reality. If anything, Dieter liked being told what to do more than anything, though that wasn’t to say he never did some bossing around of his own—he took plenty, he just gave it back tenfold.
“So…what happened?” Lucy asked, pulling Violet from the racy scenes replaying in her mind.
“We talked about the night in the hotel and then one thing led to another and…”
“And?” Lucy urged her with an impatient grin.
“And then I had the best sex of my fuckin’ life, Luce,” Violet whispered enthusiastically. “Like I think I’m gonna have a stroke kind of orgasms, babe.”
“Good for Dieter,” she nodded, impressed. “And especially good for you.”
Violet stayed grinning as they rounded the corner to the restaurant they were headed to, thinking to herself, “this is good for me”.
“You guys gonna be an official thing now, or what?” she continued her questioning as they arrived at the restaurant, paparazzi somehow already there and waiting. Violet gave the cameras a polite wave as she walked past them, but it seemed to be the wrong move as they began to start hurling questions at her.
“Is it true you’re joining the MCU?” No.
“Is that a baby bump you’re hiding behind your coat?” God, no.
“How are you feeling with all the bad reviews coming out about your movie?” N—wait, what?
“What the fuck is he talking about, Luce?” Violet whispered to her assistant as the host of the restaurant quickly guided them in and to their private table near the back.
“I don’t know,” she replied, high pitched and frantic as she reached through her bag for her phone. Pulling it out, her screen lit up with a long list of notifications from the google alerts she had set up for Violet’s name. “Fuck. Fuck. Hold on.”
“I’ll give you a moment,” the host carefully stepped out of their tense bubble as Violet sat staring expectantly at her assistant who was speed reading through critics reviews.
“Well, the good news is that your performance is being called the savior of the movie,” she offered with a bit of hope in her voice. “There’s not a single bad review on you, Vi.”
“But the movie is shit.” It was spoken as a fact because that’s what it was. She knew it during the premiere—though she mistakenly and harshly threw her own performance into the mix as well—and now everyone else seemed to agree. “Well, there goes my fucking Oscar. Fuck, man! This was supposed to—fuck.”
“Violet, you can still get nominated.” Lucy attempted to console her, reaching over to squeeze her forearm as it rested on the table.
“But I can’t win. You can’t star in a shit fucking movie and win Best Actress. They wouldn’t let that happen—they shouldn’t let that happen.” Violet sighed, reaching into her phone, the need to talk to Dieter too strong to beat.
V: hey. reviews are in. movie is shit.
In the few minutes it took for Dieter to send a reply, Violet doomscrolled on her phone until she was sick of hearing her name pop up on her For You page, reviews of what was supposed to be her first big film reduced to TikTok gossip and Instagram headlines.
D: fuck, V.
D: from what i saw last night and the article i’m reading now, you’re not the issue. you know that right?
Violet frowned with a mixture of deep affection and crushing insecurity as she typed her reply that she could muster that was honest.
V: i don’t know.
Feeling the pounding in her chest start to cloud her ears, Violet let out a shaky sigh, only half-listening as Lucy continued on trying to cheer her up, her words nothing more than a drowned out mumble in the distance. Grabbing her phone, she began typing again.
V: my brain won’t shut off. feel like i’m gonna have a panic attack. wish you were here.
D: i’m out of my meeting. where are you?
She gave him the address to the restaurant and felt the tightness in her chest melt just the slightest bit at the knowledge that he would be here soon. In the meantime, Violet tried to distract herself from the entire subject by continuing on talking about the sex she and Dieter had in the gym this morning.
“While you were sweaty?” Lucy asked, half appalled, half impressed.
“Went to town,” she confirmed proudly. “Like he hadn’t eaten for weeks.”
“What a man.” Lucy shook her head in awe and took a sip of her water.
“Talking about me?” Dieter’s voice sounded, instantly illuminating the room, or at least Violet’s perception of it.
She watched him as he walked up to the table as though he was some precious, holy thing. Something born to ease her journey through this life. A beacon of light and hope in a dark world and an even darker industry. She knew the demons that lurked in his head told him otherwise, the cruel monsters taking the form of his parents, constantly making him feel inadequate and insignificant. Violet decided in that moment to do everything in her power to show him just how wrong those voices were. He was more than enough. He was more than significant.
“Hey,” he greeted her, kissing her cheek as he pulled up a seat and sat as close to her as he possibly could without sitting in her lap. He disregarded Lucy, though she took no offense to it. Swiping his knuckle over the apple of Violet’s cheek, he pouted his bottom lip out, the sadness that only he could somehow see in her eyes stabbing him in the chest with empathy.
“I’m not okay,” she whispered in his ear. Dieter nodded and rubbed her back. “I wanted it to be good so badly.”
“I know,” he sighed, his hand never stopping against her back, melting the tension as best as he could in public. “Everybody has that one film that they wanted to work so bad, but…sometimes it’s not our fault. There’s hundreds of other people responsible for a movie, you know? It could be the lighting department or sound or editing or the production team or whatever. Just know that the failure isn’t on you. Everyone—“
“D,” she sighed, letting her head fall into her hands as she propped her elbows up on the table. “None of that makes it better.”
“I know it doesn’t,” he whispered. “But it’s the truth.”
“Can I get you anything, Mr. Bravo?” the waiter appeared and Dieter quickly shook his head, dismissing him.
“I canceled my other meetings today. Let’s go take your mind off things, huh?” he whispered into Violet’s ear. “Have a few drinks, smoke a few blunts, have a couple orgasms—“
“Okay,” she agreed with a giggle, lifting her head to face him. She rested her hand on his face and gave him an adoring stare before realizing that Lucy was still at the table. She turned to her assistant with a deep inhale and forced a smile onto her face, as though she hadn’t just listened in on their private conversation. “Alright, I’m gonna go with D. Just put the bill on my—“
“No,” Dieter objected, reaching into the back pocket of his sage green trousers to tug out his wallet. He dropped two hundred dollar bills on the table, even though their meal couldn’t have totaled more than one hundred, and whistled for the waiter. “Luce, you’re welcome to join us if you want. Fair warning, me and Vi are gonna be fucking like rabbits.”
“You know what, I think I’m okay,” she chuckled. “But you two have fun. Responsible fun, if you can.”
“If by responsible you mean no cocaine, sure,” Dieter replied, standing up and helping Violet slide her coat and scarf on.
“Come on,” Violet laughed, looping her arm with his as she led them out of the restaurant.
Dieter shielded her from the now doubled swarm of paparazzi, his arm wrapping around her to tuck her into his side as they hurried down the sidewalk to where Dieter’s SUV was parked.
“Isn’t it ironic that we used to call these fuckers so that we were seen together and now all I want in the world is for them to leave us alone?” he mumbled into her ear as they walked.
“We created a monster, would be cruel of us not to feed it.”
As the pair laid tangled in the aftermath of their party for two, their bodies curled together on the floor of his living room, the fireplace raging in front of them acting as the only source of light in his home, everything momentarily felt right in the world.
Dieter was not a rich, accomplished man who’d never loved or been loved so truly as he was now. He was simply a man being loved. A man worth loving and holding and understanding.
Violet had transformed as well, no longer carrying the burden of being a beautiful young woman in Hollywood, no longer carrying the shame of what she had to do to get there. She was simply a woman being loved. A woman worth loving and understanding.
Together, they found peace. Together they found what they’d been looking for their entire lives. Inside these walls, however expensive they were, they could put aside the masks and personas, the privilege and pretension, and simply be people instead of idols.
“Tell me there’s more to life than winning awards,” she whispered, drawing hearts on his chest while a Sam Cooke record played crackled on the vintage Victrola.
“There’s more to life than winning awards,” he replied, just as soft as the skin his fingertips traced over on her ribs.
“Now tell me the truth,” she ordered, smoothing her palm over the swell of his stomach.
“For people like us, our art is our everything. We’re always gonna be chasing after validation. Even if there’s more to life.”
Violet nodded against his shoulder, a tear falling from her eyes and onto his heated skin.
“I wanted it so badly.”
“Keep wanting it,” he urged, squeezing her tighter to his body. “Keep wanting it until you get it, and then want it even more.”
“I’m sorry I broke your sobriety,” she whispered, pressing a kiss to his peck. “I shouldn’t have—“
“Shh,” he silenced her apologies with a kiss to her forehead. “You’re the only person in the world who makes me feel human. Do you understand how much that means to me? I’d get drunk with you any day, Violet. Only you.”
“Tell me one more thing,” she commanded, moving to straddle his thighs, her hands raking up and down his chest as she smiled down at him.
“Anything,” he replied, reaching to cup her face in his hands as though she was a jewel.
“Tell me you love me again.” Dieter grinned, pulling her down until her lips were ghosting over his.
“I—“ A peck. “Love—“ Another. “You.”
He kissed her face until they were both grinning.
“God, I love you.”
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#pedro pascal#pedro pascal fic#pedro pascal fanfiction#pedro pascal smut#pedro pascal fluff#dieter bravo smut#dieter bravo#dieter bravo series#dieter bravo x oc#dieter bravo fluff#dieter bravo fic#dieter bravo bubble#dieter bravo angst#plastic hearts
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The Marvelous Adventures of Dieter & gumdrop
Pairing | dieter bravo x f!reader
Summary: a series of unrelated one-shots of yours and Dieter’s shenanigans together 💗
tea party
party trick
trinkets
Disneyland
#dieter bravo#dieter bravo fanfiction#dieter bravo masterlist#dieter bravo series#dieter bravo x f!reader#dieter bravo x female reader
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Devotion - A Dieter Bravo x Curvy/Fuller body F!Reader One Shot
Written as part of my B O D I E S Series 🤎
BODIES MASTERLIST
Summary: Whilst on vacation with your partner Dieter Bravo, you get snapped in your bikini by paparazzi, causing you to question and evaluate your body shape when others start to pick it apart scathingly. Dieter however, shows you that you're perfect just as you are.
Pairing: Dieter Bravo x Curvy/Fuller body F!Reader (No name or physical description of reader in terms of ethnicity. Reader has a fuller, curvier body type. Dieter is a little bigger himself in this fic too, it comes with natural ageing.)
Word Count: 8.4k
Scoville Smut Rating:🌶️🌶️🌶️ “You tell me I'm doing well, and then, you try to kill me."
Check out my Scoville Smut Ratings here.
Triggers & warnings: Established relationship/unprotected PIV (wrap up, folks!)/oral F receiving/Dieter worships your body/angst/self-loathing/tiniest mention of being sick after eating food, but it's not an eating disorder/people being cruel jerks online/comparison of bodies/Dieter just Dietering/we love all types of bodies in this house and won't tolerate any body shaming of any kind.
NSFW. MINORS DNI! OVER 18’s ONLY. YOU ARE SOLELY RESPONSIBLE FOR WHAT YOU READ.☝🏻Don’t come at me; you’ve been plenty warned.
I write for me, and I share with you. If this story isn't to your taste, that's fine. Just slip quietly out the back door. No need to make a fuss. It's just a work of fiction.
Author’s Note: It's important to me that all types of readers are represented in my work, therefore this collection of stories is written for readers with REAL bodies. However, anyone can enjoy them. Whilst this story may not specifically represent your own personal journey, it is my hope that it resonates and offers comfort and enjoyment. The body type mentioned in this story is not 'one size fits all' - everyone's journey is personal and unique, and I have undertaken as much research as I can to write accurately and respectfully. 🤎
MAIN MASTERLIST | DIETER BRAVO MASTERLIST
Enjoy! 🖤
Nestled along the powdery white sands of Bora Bora's coastline, a sanctuary in an exquisite overwater villa perches atop stilts above the glistening lagoon, a retreat of luxury and tranquillity.
A private deck is greeted by sweeping views of the turquoise waters that stretch as far as the eye can see. A staircase leads down to the tranquil sea below, where one can choose to swim, snorkel, or simply float in the heady bliss of the ocean.
Entering the villa through glass-panelled doors, an atmosphere of understated elegance greets the inhabitant. The interior is adorned with natural materials, from polished hardwood floors to intricately woven rattan furnishings, creating a seamless blend of modern comfort and traditional island charm.
The bedroom, with its plush queen-size bed adorned with crisp white linens, offers a haven of serenity and comfort. A canopy draped overhead adds a touch of romance, while sliding glass doors open onto a private balcony, where champagne can be sipped under the twinkling stars.
The bathroom is a sanctuary of indulgence, featuring a deep-soaking jacuzzi tub overlooking the lagoon, where one can luxuriate in a bubble bath while watching the sunset paint the sky in shades of pink and gold.
And it’s here, in the giant whirlpool tub, where Dieter Bravo finds himself, biting into the skin of your shoulder as he fucks into you from behind.
His panting growls fill your ears as he fills you deep, fingers moulding into the soft curves of your hips as he pulls you back onto him with each thrust.
“Fuck, baby!” He hollers, as your cunt clenches around him, squealing as you come and gripping on the sides of the slippery tub for leverage.
You’re pretty sure the other guests can probably hear you in their own water villas, but you don’t care. Instead you twist in the water seeking his plush mouth as his tongue slips between your lips.
“Do that again, come on my cock.” Dieter husks, teeth biting onto your bottom lip.
He thrusts harder, wheezing at the back of his throat as bubbles and water spill over the sides of the tub. You scream louder; his awed laughter cajoling as you come again, and he soon busts a nut of his own, hollering loudly himself as he fills you up.
"Yeaaaah! Oh fuck, yeah!" He grunts, sweaty forehead lolling against yours and smiling with a blissed out face.
He lights a post-coital blunt and smirks at you as he stretches out naked in the giant bed; hair a damp, ruffled mess and a puffed out pot belly that he strokes absentmindedly, a half hour or so later. He's gloriously naked and completely unabashed about it.
In fact, he hasn't put any clothes on since being here with you; the both for you encased away inside your private villa where you can rusticate like Adam and Eve.
“I hate my feet. They look like weird hands.” He says slowly, as he wiggles his bare toes and eyes the chubby, little pinkies suspiciously.
"You have cute feet." You giggle.
"No. Yours are cute. Mine are... Hobbit feet. Look."
He nods down to his feet and you laugh. "They are a little bit. Which Hobbit are you?"
"Samwise, d'uh." He says, toking deeply.
"You look more like a Pippin to me," you grin, as you flop down beside him on the bed.
Smirking, Dieter brings his large palm down on your bare ass as you lay on your front.
He groans in delight at the playful slap rippling down your shapely thighs. The damp, sticky remains of multiple orgasms on the sheets feel gluey against your skin in patches.
“Mmm,” he grunts as you lean up to kiss him, tasting herbs and smoke around his teeth. “Hey baby,” he smiles dreamily at you with pink, twinkly eyes.
"Hey yourself," you smile, as you kiss him some more.
This is the most relaxed you’ve seen him in a while, having a sixth sense for when living in La La Land gets a bit much for him.
He gets this twitchy, deer-in-headlights look about him and starts saying things like I’ve had a headache for days, I think it’s a brain tumour, or that piece of broccoli is watching me as you regard him staring at it as he moves about the room, and launching into a paranoid diatribe when he’s mixed too many substances together and doesn’t know which way is up.
That’s when you know it’s time for a time out. Whisking him away to a private sanctuary where he can detox, kinda, and eat some damn broccoli without trying to fight and chokeslam it.
Where he can indulge in some freaky sex with you, and the cute waiter who brought him a double, when he only asked for a single, and the next thing his cock is in his mouth and your fingers are in his ass as the three of you paint the room in bodily fluids.
It’s a much needed retreat for you both, adopting the mutually agreed upon rule of no phones or internet as you truly switch off and lock your devices away in the room safe, as you spend time fawning over the intimate fronds of your deepening relationship with A-lister Dieter Bravo.
Once a washed up has-been floundering in the gross LA gutter, now a three-time Emmy winner and on his way to the Oscars. Yet despite the three-sixty turn around in his career through some clever reshuffling of his publicists and agents, he still retains that firecracker ability to go off the rails on occasion, despite cleaning up his act somewhat.
You’ve been credited as the main reason for this transformation, a positive impact; a grounding force in an otherwise chaotic timebomb. The rarely seen lover, opting out of the spotlight through your own choice, and Dieter’s support of it.
Although he’s name dropped you in a few interviews when asked about his infectious happiness, snapped numerous selfies of you both loved up and nuzzling on his Instagram, and on occasion you’ll hang off his arm at an event in a dress that costs more than your first mortgage.
But for the most part, you do your own thing, happy to let him do his, and come back to the home you’ve both been curating together.
You met just like in a trashy Hallmark romance, standing in line to get a green juice in a trendy cafe in downtown LA, and it was love at first wow, as he swooned at you over the tip of his Raybans and grinned crookedly at you, gold earring sparkling like those mischievous eyes.
You’ve been hooked on this lewd rapscallion, with a heart of gold, ever since.
You had no idea who he was or what he did, and for a while, he kept it a secret; fearing that if you knew about his fame and bawdy past shenanigans, you’d disappear in a puff of judgemental smoke.
But you didn’t, instead supporting him and drawing a line between the fame and the reality, and became an anchor when he needed one to stop him floating too far adrift.
Dieter has never said the L word before, but when he did with you, around a mouthful of grilled cheese as you both sat in the dark watching Humphrey Bogart movies, (often Sabrina - it's his favourite) something told you this fuzzy-haired doof meant it.
He can’t keep his hands off you, grabbing and pawing at your voluptuous curves. Burying his face in your breasts that suffocate him, and an ass that won’t quit when he fucks it and watches it ripple.
He’s always been fantastically open about how much he loves your body.
Your weight fluctuates at the best of times, growing when you’re comfy, and you’ve never felt more comfortable than with Dieter. He paints you when you’re asleep, waking to find another portrait of flesh coloured brush strokes on another canvas that’s added to the collection of worship pieces he creates.
Anyone would think he was obsessed with you, but you don’t mind the attention he lavishes, especially when he pours paint over your breasts and gets you to smoosh them into the canvas board whilst he fucks you from behind.
He’s insatiable for you, and for once you feel like you can be yourself around him, truly. Comfortable to be naked and bare with him in your skin.
You’ve spent years with your thoughts drifting inward, grappling with the complexities of your body. A regular love-hate relationship, which leans more towards the hate more often than not.
It’s no secret that you’re larger and more curvaceous than the slender figures typically celebrated by society, and the usual, skinny types that had draped off of Dieter’s arm in the past.
Your body, adorned with generous amounts of curves, dimples and soft contours, bear the marks of a life well-lived and enjoying the over-indulgence of it at times.
But sometimes, you feel a pang of insecurity flood through you; your eyes drawn to the lithe forms that grace the glossy pages of fashion magazines.
Feeling itchy inside your epidermis at the actors that flock around you both at the after parties in their tight dresses that look like a second skin, and the endless scroll of social media feeds perpetuating the allusion, that to be beautiful, you must be thin.
You feel like the “fat woman” when surrounded by slender, flat-tummied make-up artists and stylists who flood your home when Dieter has an event to prepare for. In a world that seems to worship perfection, you can't help but wonder if your own body falls short of the unattainable ideal at times.
But Dieter doesn’t see it that way.
He's continuously lavishing you with affection and love, and unable to keep his big hands off you from day one. You’ve been with him long enough now to know he’s serious about you, respectful of your choices to remain out of the spotlight and trusting that you’re not just a novelty to him.
He’s changed because of you; cleaned himself up and become a better man, and that only imbues the sense of worship he gives to you daily.
As you gaze into Dieter's glassy eyes, you find yourself bathed in a warmth that transcends the superficial constraints of beauty standards. In his unwavering stare you see not judgement, but genuine admiration - a reflection of the love and acceptance that he has for you, curves and all.
He makes you feel invincible when he looks at you like this. But sometimes, it's hard not to let the insecurities seep in.
This vacation has been relaxing, enjoying one another in the privacy of the water villa, but Dieter’s attention span can only survive in enclosed walls for so long, and soon he’s itching to get out and explore.
He suggests the nearby market for lunch and the beach, and you agree, pulling on a suitable dress over your bikini, and rolling up his yoga mat to shove into your beach bag.
You stroll hand-in-hand through the market, packed with tourists and locals. He stops at stalls to admire handmade crafts through his giant, dark Raybans, and purchases cheap beaded bracelets that he adds to the collection on his wrist, and rambles at you in great detail about the craftsmanship of them.
You stop for refreshing guava and pineapple smoothies from stall vendors, pose for selfies by a tropical flower bush as he picks one and places it behind your ear, and after a mouthwatering shellfish lunch, you end the afternoon lazing on the beach together.
He gets a little handsy when he rubs sun lotion onto your skin, fingers slipping under your bikini top discreetly to tug at your puffy nipples as he sucks the oily skin on your neck.
"D..." You whine, as he pulls them in his between his fingers and whispers in your ear how fucking hot you are. You shoo him away, grinning, as he heads into the water for a swim, and you lay back to bake in the sun with your book.
You lick your lips a little while later as he emerges from the water; pale lilac swim shorts clinging to his thick thighs, unruly greying fluff slicked back. Sea water drips from his chin down his chest, that puffs out into a little swollen tummy of his own with a slot machine belly button. Dark hairs disappear into his shorts as he pulls them up, strolling out of the waves.
Dieter’s ageing in the most beautiful way possible, broad too in every sense of the word as the sun blesses him with a gorgeous bronze tan, and he catches you staring like a drooling chimp as he heads back towards you.
He flashes you those enigmatic teeth as he approaches, sand clumped around his ankles.
“See something you like?” He grunts, as he bends down to kiss you, hooked nose all wet and dripping salt water onto your lips.
“Maybe,” you say, his crotch almost in your face as he stands.
He's already pitching a tent in them as he smiles down at you with a razor-like grin.
“Did you know a sea cucumber ejects its intestines out in self-defense? It looks like a sea dick squirting all over the place. And there's lots of it, too.”
You laugh. “Did you see a sea cucumber in the water just now?”
“No. I just remembered seeing it on Nat Geo. Fascinating.”
“You’re so random, D.” You titter, dropping your book down.
"You love it." He says, wiping at his face with the towel.
"I do."
“You know-" he sits behind you on the lounger and pulls you back against his wet chest, “-there’s nothing stopping us from fucking right here. I could easily slip my cock into you right now.”
“D, the beach is full of people.” But you groan at the thought of it.
“Yeah, but the danger, the anticipation. It’d be hot, no?” He whispers, fingers dipping into the waistband of your bikini bottoms. “Just fucking you in front of all these people and they’d never know. You'd have to be really quiet, baby...”
“Dieter!” You hiss, bringing your legs up to stop him going any further.
“Alright,” he chuckles in your ear, running his fuzzy chin against your face.
"Is that a sea cucumber in your shorts or are you just pleased to see me?" You remark at the hard bulge poking at your lower back.
Dieter chuckles, all waspy inside your ear. “I'm still hungry. Let’s go back to the villa and you can sit on my face for a while.”
The vacation comes to an end after another week of fucking all over the water villa, and you both find yourselves on the flight back to civilisation, somewhat more exhausted than when you'd set off.
You turn on your mobile when taxiing towards the terminal, back on American soil, and listen to the pings as your phone catches up with life.
You scroll through emails as Dieter quietly snores beside you, mouth open and catching flies.
Smirking, you scroll through social media and stop, immediately feeling sick when you open a message from your friend titled have you seen this?
There’s a screenshot of you on the beach in your bikini from a pap site, something that doesn't surprise you much at all - it’s bound to happen now and again when you’re spotted with Dieter, despite booking somewhere off radar.
Renegade photos of the two of you end up on the socials all the time, and you pay them no mind, choosing to abstain from looking them up.
But what you don’t expect to see is the vitriol in the comments underneath the picture, from none other than Dieter’s fans.
You read the words fat and beached whale and pity fuck, standing out like they’re flashing red neon at you.
Swallowing as your throat runs dry, it gets worse the further you scroll. They make fun of your body, make remarks about your face, your hair, sense of fashion, even your ankles of all things.
Who is offended by someone’s fucking ankles, for Christ’s sake?
Every part of you is pulled apart scathingly in deep conversations that go on and on, blurring out the compliments that say you’re a cute couple by the ones that say things like she carries it well.
Carries what well?
You’re pulled in, instantly scrolling to Dieter's own Instagram page and clicking on the most recent picture he took of you both as you watched the sunset on your last night in Bora Bora.
You have the flower in your hair that he picked and put behind your ear, and told you how gorgeous you were as he snapped the selfie, his lips pressing into your cheek. Under the photo he wrote the caption my heart.
Comparing how his belly in his swim shorts looks gorgeous and sexy and how complete strangers want to lick it, whereas your tummy in your bikini is branded hideous and disgusting.
It’s liked by over five million people, and you grimace when you realise there are also thousands of comments talking about your looks there too.
How your shoulders are much broader than his, your thighs the size of tree trunks. How you must crush him when you fuck.
Who's the whale next to Dieter?
They speculate that you’re pregnant. Some of them are calling you a cunt or a bitch because you’re carrying his fictitious baby.
The unjustified hate just keeps coming and coming.
Can't believe he's with someone so fat.
She’s so gross.
She’s disgusting.
He's fucking her for a joke.
Dude must be high AF to fuck that each night.
I've seen glory holes better looking than her face.
He deserves better.
It’s a staged relationship. No way he’d look twice at her.
You thought you looked pretty in your dress. You were wrong, babe.
You feel like you’re going to throw up and nudge him awake.
“D,” you groan.
“Mm,” he mutters.
“Dieter! Wake up!”
“Wha-what?” He jolts as he comes to, wiping his mouth free of drool. “Have we landed? Oh, we're here. What time is it? Fuck, my neck. I think I've dislocated my shoulder sleeping in this damn seat. Why'd you let me sleep for so long?”
His bleary eyes look around the cabin as he sits upright in his seat with wild, fuzzy hair. He turns to you and baulks.
“Babe, what’s wrong?” He sees you crying silently into your hands. “Hey, what happened?” He reaches for your hands, but instead you toss the phone at him.
Confused, he takes it and smiles at the selfie of you both together. “What, you don’t like it? I think you look really gor-”
“Read the comments,” you all but choke out to him.
As he scrolls through the comments, his jaw clenches in anger; his grip on the phone tightening with each cruel word. You see his nostrils flare as he breathes in and clicks the phone screen off.
“Babe,” he shakes his head. “Fuck that shit, man. Ignore it. Bitches be cray and all.”
“That’s easy for you to say, they fucking love you!” You shake your head and scramble up past him, heading for the door as the other passengers begin to disembark.
"I'll get the luggage then..." He huffs to himself.
Despite Dieter’s reassurances, the words have already taken root in your mind, poisoning your thoughts with doubt and reuniting you with that old, reliable friend, self-loathing.
In the days that follow, you find yourself sinking deeper and deeper into a depressive spiral, unable to escape the relentless barrage of negativity that haunts your every waking moment.
It consumes you. Strangers, people you’ve never met and don’t know or what they look like, get into your head. You suddenly realise the power that words have.
They have jagged edges that cut into your skin and leave you bleeding, dying.
They cause your head to ache profusely and your nose to become blocked, and your eyes to itch from crying so much. You’re suddenly paranoid, of everything, everyone that looks at you. Second guessing all the time, wondering what they think when they look you over.
You withdraw from the world, retreating into the darkness of your own mind, where the echoes of cruel words reverberate back and forth like a never-ending chorus of condemnation.
No amount of love or support from Dieter can penetrate the thick fog of despair that envelopes you, leaving you feeling utterly alone and miserable.
You cancel pre-planned events, leaving Dieter to go alone, whilst you curl up under the duvet and don’t surface for days, and you realise that ignorance really was bliss.
You find yourself standing in front of the mirror naked when you finally brave yourself to have a shower, and are disgusted at what you see.
Highlighted before the glass, your reflection is a cruel mockery of the beauty you once believed you possessed. The soft glow of the vanity lights illuminate every curve and contour of your body, each line a stark reminder of your perceived inadequacy.
Your gaze lingers on your reflection, tracing the lumpy ridges of your hips and the soft swell of your hanging stomach, the fullness of your thighs and the rounded shape of your ass, with a mixture of disdain and disgust.
You grab handfuls of your flesh, rolling it in your grip, shaking your head as your eyes fill with water.
Looking away, you cover yourself up with baggy clothes that aren’t flattering. You put on Dieter's green robe over the top and belt it up and climb back into bed, sobbing.
How can he possibly find me attractive? Is he part of it? Am I really just a pity fuck?
The invasive thoughts begin to chip away at the solid foundations you thought you had. Crumbling them into doubt and paranoia.
Their words haunt you, spin around your eyesight for days until you're back torturing yourself and scrolling back through them all. You shut everything out except their words - you just exist in this tormented space in the bed - refusing to entertain anyone, including Dieter - with your phone doom scrolling, and nothing but self-loathing and misery.
It lasts on a repetitive cycle for days.
You try not to eat, taking to self-punishment and abstinance, but then that only makes it worse because you inevitably get hungry and order take-out. Far too much take-out.
And then once you've eaten it all, a small comfort that is fleeting, you force yourself sick, feeling guilty and even more wretched for enjoying the food that you love.
Until Dieter’s had enough of it all.
He throws everyone out of the house on the eve before Oscar’s night, refusing to partake in any more fittings whilst he knows you’re upstairs hiding from him and hurting.
Forehead pulling into tight wrinkles with guilt, Dieter stares at the dress the stylist has brought over that he knows you’ll look incredible in.
You were so excited when you first tried it on, and now he can’t help but feel as though he’s had some part in this; coaxing you to try and be someone you’re not just for the sake of the glitz and solid bronze statues plated in 24 karat gold.
But he can't help it, he wants to share this side of him with you. Wants you to be proud of him and to show you off, because you make him so equivocally happy. And for a long time, Dieter wasn't happy. Just floundering and trying to shape himself so he could fit into their moulds too.
He said he'd keep you separate from his world if that's what you wanted, and for the most part you did, and now he wonders if it's because of this - this pressure that society puts on people in the spotlight to maintain perfection.
And he can't help but wonder if he's put that pressure on you too in some ways.
It’s like cleaning out wounds with dirty fingers, festering and making it worse the longer you're hurting and allowing them to hurt you. And now, he trudges up the stairs, woolly socks making static on the carpet, with the dress dangling from the hanger over his broad shoulder.
He misses you. Misses your smile, your smell, your warmth. Your body wrapped around his. It's not fun watching movies by himself, sleeping in one of the spare bedrooms without you.
He's given you space, but he needs you. Needs you to see how fucking beautiful you are to him. And needs you to know he's not giving up on you, not now and not ever.
“I’m not going.” You grumble with a huff.
Knuckles rap on the bedroom door and push it open gently when you grunt at him to go away.
You watch him, with puffy eyes, as he hangs the dress bag over the closet door.
You shake your head vehemently.
“You don't have to. But... you promised me.” Dieter says, as he kicks at the foot of the bed gently.
His zig-zag sweater is knitted and bobbly on the arms when he crosses them over his chest. Triad tattoos inked into his skin peep out at you under rolled up sleeves.
“You wanna see it?” He offers. "Might make you feel good to try it on again?"
“No. I’m not wearing it. I’m not going and that’s that.”
Dieter kneels on the bed slowly crawling up towards you. “It’s my night, baby, and I want you there by my side.”
You sigh. “I can’t,” you whimper, trying not to look at him.
“Yes, you can. You know you can.”
Tears fall from your eyes making warm tracks on your cheeks.
“No, I don’t.” You say, sniffing.
“I love you.” Dieter says, reaching your face and sitting over your thighs.
His thumbs catch the tears and he kisses your face. “I fucking love you. You’re so beautiful and sexy. God, you're so fucking sexy. You make me so hard.”
He takes your hand and puts it over his cock that’s indeed rock solid in his shorts.
“Yes you do, see? Even when you're crying and wearing my shitty gown. You’ve always been so fucking sexy to me.”
A renegade smile tries to break free at the corner of your lips as he starts smashing down your walls with a sledgehammer. And his aim is pretty on point.
"When was the last time you washed this? It stinks," you say, looking down at the stained softness of his gown draped over you. You don't even want to know the origin of some of them.
“That’s it, there you are.” He encourages.
“You really think I’m sexy?” You whimper. “All this?” You say, confused as you point to your stomach.
“I love your body, babe. Every. Inch. Of. It.” He punctuates each word with a kiss over your face; on your nose, your forehead, your chin.
“Why? You could have anyone...”
“I don’t want anyone. I want you. I've always wanted you.”
“Why?”
“Because I fell in love with you. Hook. Line. And fucking sinker.”
“Dieter-” You choke and snivel.
He wraps you up in his arms. “Let me show you, baby.”
He unbelts his gown that you’re wearing, leaning forward to kiss your lips gently. Your fingers tangle in his hair, silky greying fluff, as he swirls his tongue around inside your mouth.
"You taste like flaming hot Cheetos." You smirk around his lips.
"I may have eaten three king-size bags. My ass and the toilet will hate me later."
"Is that all you've eaten?"
"Well, yeah. That and microwave oven pizzas... I'm kinda floundering without you. It really is selfish of you to not come downstairs and cook for me. Baby, I'm wasting away." He pats his little belly for emphasis.
You laugh, a deep and haughty chuckle, and he smiles at that.
"You're such a doof."
"Yeah, but I'm your doof." Dieter says as he kisses you, sighing into your mouth as his shoulders sag.
He pulls away and runs his thumb over your lips.
“I love your lips,” he says, licking over them and nipping them between his teeth. “Mmm, yeah. Fuck. Love it when they wrap around my cock too,” he hums.
You chuckle through wet eyes. “Yeah?”
“Yeah baby, I love how you look when you suck my cock. So fucking hot.”
“How do I look?”
“Like a fucking Goddess!” He chirps enthusiastically, and you can see that he really means it. "Better than Aphrodite, Dionysus... that-that pale chick riding in the clam-"
"Venus." You hiccup through a smile.
"Yeah. They haven't got shit on you, babe."
"Dieter," you stutter as he nuzzles into your face. He slathers wet kisses down your neck as you groan.
“I love these tits… fuck,” he groans as he squeezes them in his hands, sucking on the nipples as he pushes your t-shirt up.
“Mmm, D…” you whine as he flicks his tongue back and forth over them, until they become hardened pebbles in his mouth making you shudder and clench.
"Fucking perfect tits." He grunts. He kisses and licks down the deep valley of your breasts, smooching over your sternum.
“I love this belly,” Dieter says, with more kissing, licking and stopping to blow a loud raspberry into your belly button.
You cackle as he strokes and tickles your hips.
“Dieter!” You howl as he tickles harder.
“See, stunning!” He laughs, watching you cackle and squirm as you try to bat him off.
“Stop it!” You howl. "I'm gonna pee!"
“I love these little lines here,” he says, as he runs his tongue over the crinkled stretch marks around your lower tummy.
He kisses further down into the swell of your thighs, pulling your leggings down as he goes, revealing more skin for him to lavish.
"I love this freckle right here, and this one here, and this little guy over here… But this one’s my favourite, right here. Hi cutie,” he smiles as he kisses it.
You giggle like an idiot as he kisses over each freckle, mole and dimple in and around your thighs.
“And I fucking love this pussy,” Dieter groans as he runs his tongue up the slit of you over your panties.
You watch as he hooks his fingers into the elastic and pulls them down, with darkening eyes smouldering up at you from between your legs.
His tongue runs on the skin outside your pussy lips, so close to your clit. He trails a hot, wet lap around and leaves you panting, begging. “Please, please…”
"What do you want, baby? You want me to kiss it?" He smirks as you nod, head all slack and mesmerised.
He spreads your lips and licks his tongue slowly up your slit, making you shudder as he swirls it around the bump of your buzzing nub.
“Fuck,” Dieter groans, reaching down to adjust himself. “I could just fucking come from eating you out,” his voice is muffled by doing just that.
Your head keens back into the pillows and you groan. Your fingers rummage inside his hair, twisting and pulling, as he laps you up.
He doesn’t shy away, nestling himself between your thighs so he can lavish you with deserved attention as he kisses all over your pussy.
Running his adept and hungry tongue back and forth over your clit before sucking it into his mouth and making those thighs quake and jerk around his face.
“D… Let me touch you.” You whine.
“There'll be plenty of time for that later, right now I’m happy just here. Right here..." He licks again, a long fat stripe up your seam, and you pant. "I want you to come all over my face, beautiful.” Dieter urges, rutting his hips into the mattress.
As the tension mounts within, you can feel every nerve in your body standing on edge, like a tightly coiled spring ready to burst. And then, in a moment of pure abandon, it happens. A wave of pleasure crashing over you; a surge of unfurling sensations that seem to consume you whole as you tumble through them.
He rubs over your clit, tickling it with the increasing pressure and speed from the pad of his thumb as he slips his tongue inside your hole and drinks you down. He hums around you, licking and sucking as he entices your body to just bend to his mouth.
And you do.
"Dieter! Fuck!"
Like a firework exploding in the night sky, a burst of light and colour leaves you breathless and exhilarated as he continues to lick and suck you through your orgasm.
You're a writing mess, groaning as you fill his mouth with more of your slick and clenching around his tongue as he fucks your contracting hole with it. As your body convulses with the force of your release, your thighs crushing further against his head, you feel a profound sense of relief wash over you, like a swampy weight lifting from your shoulders.
Bathed in a moment of pure ecstasy amongst the dread that’s consumed you; a fleeting glimpse into the freedom from it all.
"Fucking love this pussy," he mouths.
“Shit... I need you, D.” You gasp, your body buzzing for him.
You pull him out of his cargo shorts, hard and swollen in your palm. Just barely stroking across his soaked frenulum as he groans like he's been choked. The slick of his own drippings covering your fingers as you jerk him desperately.
“Fuck!” Dieter muffles into your mouth as you crush him in a kiss; teeth clashing with clumsiness at your haste to have him and cupping his balls.
You can taste yourself all over his furry lips and chin as he guides his swollen, weeping head inside your gorgeous cunt.
“Dieter!” You groan as he fucks into you, large hands roaming all over your body, squeezing, massaging.
“So fucking beautiful, baby.” He pants, burying his head into the ample swell of your breasts.
Your tits bounce wildly around his face with every thrust of his pelvis against yours, and he just whines and groans inside his happy place as he sucks on your nipples with eyes that stare up at you.
But it’s the love shining so deeply in his watery eyes that truly moves you - a love so profound, it seems to shimmer with unshed tears, reflecting the depth of his emotion.
“God, I fucking love your body, baby.” His words penetrate the barriers you’ve built around yourself, slowly chipping away at the walls of self-doubt and insecurity that has held you captive in a cage for days.
"I love you!" He gasps into your mouth.
As you look into his earnest eyes, you see no sympathy or pity, but genuine affection and admiration. You see a man that genuinely believes you’re beautiful.
A man that can’t get enough of your curves, and welted and dimpled thighs. Your stretch marks and tummy rolls. A man who’s not afraid to put his hands on you, who wants to show you off to the world and declare “she’s mine” at the top of his grizzled voice proudly.
You see a man who also has body hang ups of his own when he stares at himself in the mirror after hours of being preened and gussied up like a peacock for the world’s cameras.
Wrinkling his aquiline nose at his slick appearance, when all he wants to do is laze about in a grubby, green gown and broken crocs, smoke a bowl and eat bags of flaming hot Cheetos with you, whilst nestled in the comfy, safe place in your arms and cleavage where he feels most like himself.
He twists, so one of your legs is still hooked over him, his hand on your ass as he pushes into you as you lay on your sides facing each other.
And you wouldn’t have him any other way.
It’s a revelation - the realisation that you’re deserving of love and acceptance, just as he is.
His hands run all over your body, sliding up your back and fingers gliding down your chest delicately. He guides his cock back in, holding you in his other arm tight and kissing you.
Dieter whines into your face as he slips in, his eyes searching yours out to convey in unspoken words how good you feel squeezing around him.
You let your hips languidly bounce as he flexes his; both of you enjoying that heady rhythm without rush or eagerness to finish in a hurry.
“Mmm. Oh fuck, right there… oh fuck, fuck. This pussy, baby, you feel so good.” Dieter groans, eyes rolling back. “Amazing, amazing...” He babbles.
“Tell me,” you pant. “Tell me what’s amazing, D.”
“You. You’re amazing. Fuck I want you every which way. I-I want to fuck your ass again. Wanna have you in my mouth, swallow you all up.”
“Eat the world.” You grin.
“Yeah, eat the world.” He smiles. “My world. You’re my fucking world, baby.”
“Fuck, I love how you grip me so tight, baby.” He wheezes, fists punched into the pillow either side of your head as his hips do all the work.
A subtle roll and he’s on top of you again. Knees knocking your thighs open wider and sinking his cock into you deeper.
He kisses you as he slides in, filling you up with his love as you whimper into his mouth in sweet relief.
“Come on, Dieter, give me your cock. Like that, fuck yeah, like that.” You pull on his broad arms, legs wrapping around his chunky waist as his stomach slaps against yours.
Deep smacks of skin fill your ears as he fucks you harder. He wheezes as he breathes, panting into your face.
“Like this? Yeah?” He fucks you faster, drilling in quick, deep shunts; the headboard clattering against the wall loudly. "God!" He grunts deeply. "Oh fuck, I'm gonna come, baby!"
He’s weak for you. You can see it in his eyes, the vulnerability around the blown out glass of them as he comes and bites down on his lip through a laboured grunt. Spilling warm and thick inside of you, and you feel it pool and dribble out once he softens.
“Give it to me, give it to me. Give me all your come, Dieter!” You cry as you burst again - gold bokeh filling your eyes as the heat floods through your body.
Your spine twists, your back arching. Toes curling and ears ringing as you come around him.
“Baby!” He yells as he momentarily stiffens and strains before exploding inside of you.
He stays plugged in for a while, pelting your breasts with unrelenting kisses as he rubs his nose against your nipple, tasting the salt of your sweat on his tongue. Eventually finding your lips once more as he holds your head in his giant hands.
“How do you do that, D?” You ask breathlessly, afterwards.
“Do what?” He lays beside you, pants slowly dying down and nose nuzzling against your own.
“Make me feel so good?” You peep, timidly.
“The same way you make me feel so good." He hums out as you watch his eyes close, dark, fluttery eyelashes fanning out. "I’d probably still be in the gutter if it weren’t for you loving me.” He says quietly.
“Do you really believe that?”
He nods, his greying hair ruffling against the pillow. “Yeah. I do. You saved me, baby.” He says, with deep chocolate eyes lanced on you. “My brain scrambles when I'm with you, but in a good way.”
“I wish you could see yourself how I see you. Then maybe you’d believe it.” His eyes soften at you, a mixture of relief and gratitude washing over him. "I just want you to know how beautiful you are to me," he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper. "I never want to make you feel like you're anything less than perfect, because to me, you are. And I know I'm a bit much sometimes... but I really do love you.”
You don't try to unpick the sweetly soft truth that pours out of him in sincere revelations, you just listen with a smile spreading across your lips.
“I love you, D. You and your scrambly brain always make me feel beautiful.”
“From the first day I met you, I’ve always thought so.” He smiles, his thumb pulling on your bottom lip. "And I'm never wrong." He grins.
A wider smile escapes you as you lean in closer, your forehead resting against his, damp with sweat.
“I’m not gonna force you, baby, but please come with me tomorrow night.” He implores with soft eyes. “You’re gonna look so beautiful and I really want you there with me. We'll have a great time, you and me.”
Your response is hesitant, your fingers tracing invisible patterns on his pudgy hip as you struggle to find words. Unable to speak, like rust clogging in your throat as your mind recalls all the nasty slurs said about you online and the panic prickles again.
You want nothing more than to carry out stringent ablutions, cleanse yourself of the tarnish they’ve left inked under the layers of your skin with all the other jibes and taunts you’ve heard throughout your life.
It's hard not to let your body physically define you when physicality is so superficial in this world. There isn't anything that anyone has said that you haven't heard before, or said to yourself in your moments of dark masochism.
You've seen all the looks people give you, like you're an exhibit in a museum to be gawked at. Heard all the whispers and mean girl things that ultimately mean girls say in earshot.
You've spent years planning routes around rooms as you step in, avoiding scenarios where you'll have to squeeze yourself through tiny gaps or past people.
Accepting the fact that the dress you really like in the shop window won't be in your size. Slicking your thighs in layers of anti-chafe balm in advance when your friends want to go for a walk and you struggle to keep up.
And words cut deep.
You try to tell yourself it's jealousy. You try to tell yourself that they’re not real. Faceless drones sitting behind a screen with nothing better to do than tear you down, because you ultimately have what they want.
They want him, Dieter. But you have him.
A woman who is so far removed from themselves in terms of looks, that it's hard for them to comprehend and accept that he could genuinely want you and love you, and get turned on by you.
You breathe in slowly, trying to push down all the negative thoughts that try to worm their way back in.
And sometimes, it's hard for you to accept too.
But then he does things like this, makes you believe and accept it, because his love for you is real. It's so fucking real that it guts you. It's all you've ever wanted, someone to see you.
Will I have to suck in my belly? Will people see me doing that? Is the dress going to cling onto my stomach and thighs too much? What if my dress tears? What if I fall? What if I embarrass him?
But then you look in his eyes keening back at you, and he has this power to get inside your head and sweep them all away again into a dark corner.
“I promise you, you won't be alone. I'll be right there beside you, every step of the way." Dieter reassures.
Your eyes soften at his words, a glimmer of hope shining through the murky uncertainty. "But what if-"
"No 'buts', candy and nuts," Dieter interjects, headbutting you gently. "You’re stunning, babe. Inside and out. And I'll spend the rest of my life reminding you of that."
“The rest of your life, huh?” You smile.
“Yeah. If you can tolerate me for that long.” He snickers, eye creases crinkling.
“That’s a pretty big if.” You smirk.
“The biggest.” Dieter smiles, his big browns pleading silently and soft at you, and melting you further in the process.
You nod, smiling. “Okay. I'll go.”
“Amazing.” He croons with a satisfied yawn. “We got any KitKats left?”
“In the kitchen, I think. I’ll get you one.” You smile.
“Rockstar.” He mumbles, nuzzling further into the pillow.
You catch sight of him over your shoulder, his bare, round ass naked and furry as he adjusts and gets comfortable on the bed.
You pad down to the kitchen, not bothering to dress, and catch sight of your reflection in the dark pane of the window.
A wobbly silhouette at first glance, but as you look closer, you can see the sheen of sweat gleaming on your skin, the warmth that coats it from the afterglow of Dieter’s touch.
Your gaze lingers on your shapely form, but instead of scrutinising the perceived flaws, you find yourself noticing the things you’ve overlooked - the gentle curve of your smile, the sparkle in your eyes, the fact that you’re here, naked and comfortable to wander freely around the house again, whereas only a few hours ago you were wrapped up and hiding.
As you regard your reflection, something is different. The harsh judgement and self-doubt that has plagued you tirelessly has been replaced by a newfound, creeping sense of acceptance and appreciation.
A small glimmer, but it's still there nonetheless.
You turn, admiring your shape with a small smile lighting you up at what you see.
In this moment, you realise that you’re beautiful like he says - not just because of your physical appearance, but because of the love Dieter has for you that makes you see past any self-loathing.
His unwavering affection lifts you up when you sink, helping you to see yourself in a new light, as a woman worthy of love and admiration.
You come back into the bedroom and toss the KitKat on the dresser when you see Dieter snoring gently.
Your leg hooks over his puffy middle as you listen to his heartbeat. The soft thrum-thrum emanating in the pit of his chest soothes away any worries or fears.
You feel his thick fingers twitch against your skin, a silent snuffle as he breathes laboriously, lost in sleep.
Dieter Bravo sees you and loves you for who you are, so maybe, just maybe, you should try to love yourself, too.
It's the last conscious thought you have before you fall asleep with him.
“Does my pocket look okay? It looks weird, it’s doing shifty things. I don't trust it.” Dieter asks, as he looks in the mirror and fiddles with the silk handkerchief poking out the top of it.
You can feel the nerves radiating off of him in droves. His fingers twitch, rings clacking against every surface he passes. Lips gnawed on until they’re scarlet, despite the make-up artist slicking them with balm tirelessly.
“Your rebellious pocket looks fine.” You say, as you step fully into the room.
“Oh wow! Baby. Fuck, look at you!” Dieter turns, his whole face lighting up. “You look so good in this colour.”
“Yeah?” You ask, smoothing down the dress that fits you like a dream.
It hides a multitude of sins in your opinion, as you turn this way and that in the mirror - you’re satisfied with how you look.
“Yeah, your eyes really pop, wow!” He comes over to you, all perfectly coiffed curls blown out, and crushed velvet sleeves embracing you. “Fuck…” He says, eyeing you up and down.
He makes no effort to hide it when he adjusts himself in his pants so brazenly.
“You scrub up pretty well yourself, Mr Oscar Nominee.” You smirk, eyeing how good he looks in his suit.
A crisp shirt is open at the neck revealing an abundance of golden skin you long to lick and taste. He channels Adam Ant with the eighties romance of it all; lace sleeves hanging low and unruly from his jacket cuffs, matching velour Gucci loafers on with no socks, and wearing fitted pants that finish above the ankle.
“I’m so fucking nervous.” Dieter murmurs to you, quietly in the car on the way there. He rubs at his sternum with a large palm and keeps it there. "I need an antacid. And possibly a shit." He mumbles, belching quietly into his fist. "Fuck. I should've taken a shit before we left."
You giggle. “You'll be alright. Just breathe.” You reassure him, ghosting your nose over his. "I've got you, D."
“I’ve got you too, baby.” He promises, squeezing your hand and smiling at you. "God, you look so beautiful."
The cameras are flashing in your retinas as you walk the red carpet with him. The dress dazzles back, accentuating your curves and features, and looking at yourself once more in the mirror before you left, you were awash with awe at how good it actually made you feel.
He leans in for a kiss, but belches again in your face, and you chuckle as he laughs, embarrassed. "Sorry, sorry."
"At least your breath doesn't smell like Cheetos."
"No, but my sweat does." He chuckles, then turns to you. "Please, for the love of God, don't let me shit my pants."
You remember that feeling, coming back to you slowly as you stand tall and proud beside your silly man, who won't stop discreetly belching in the back of his throat like a toad where he's so nervous.
Where did that other woman go? She was lost for a while, pulled into the mud, but she kept moving, getting herself out of it once again. She has strength after all. They won’t drag you under.
Dieter is in awe of you too as you hold onto his hand, fingers interlocked with yours tightly, with his other on his chest holding in his anxiety - and nervous burps - whilst you smile beside him and support him on his big night.
You hold each other up with words unsaid. Pillars of strength when the other one needs it. With him by your side, looking at you the way he is now, you’ve never felt more beautiful and loved in your own skin.
The paps call you to look this way, gorgeous, as they snap your picture with him whilst you pose, growing more confident as Dieter holds you close, beaming at you.
The interviewers want to know all about your dress and compliment you beside him as he talks about his film, and then forgets about it entirely and starts talking about you instead with starry eyes, when he loses his train of thought.
Interviews pop up online of Dieter just dumbstruck at you standing next to him, peppered with heart-eye emoji's and the comments flood in under the photos and reels.
Look at how he looks at her!
They make such a cute couple.
She looks so beautiful in that dress.
Aww, he really loves her!
I want them to get married and have lots of babies!!
I hope he wins tonight, he deserves it.
She's so good for him.
I wish I looked that good.
But their words, no matter how kind this time round, won't matter. Because right now, nothing anyone could say could make you feel better than he does about yourself.
Dieter leans in, his arm sliding around your curvy waist, his voice husky and pouring liquid silk in your ear.
“Later on, I’m gonna fuck you in this dress, baby.” He promises, with a shit eating grin that’s just as gleaming as the devilish gold hoop twinkling in his ear.
“You better, it’s Valentino.” You smirk. “Gotta get your money's worth.”
Crookedly grinning at you, he places a lingering kiss on your glossy lips as the paparazzi go wild, snapping pictures of Oscar Nominee, Dieter Bravo, affectionately worshipping his Goddess for the whole world to see.
I really hope you enjoyed reading this story with Dieter, and welcome your comments/thoughts. I'd appreciate a re-blog if you liked it so others can find it on their dash to read and enjoy too - thank you very much! 🖤
BODIES MASTERLIST
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DIETER BRAVO MASTERLIST
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A Little Sun part 6 Dieter!Bravo x f!Reader
rating: 18+
words: 8.4k
pairings: Dieter x f!Reader
tags: pregnancy, details of body changing with pregnancy, insecurity, mention of family death, mutual pining, idiots in love, soft dieter, fluff, lurve, angst, miscommunication trope, female masturbation, male masturbation, dirty talk (thoughts).
summary: You move in with Dieter after the fight with your mom and things get... complicated.
a/n: Y'all this thing has turned into such a fuckin' beast. Remember when I wanted it to be a one shot? Anyway, we're nearing the end with these two idiots in love but I think this one ends pretty damn sweet.
Also I think I'm in love with Dieter Bravo?
SERIES MASTERLIST
REBLOGS, COMMENTS, ENGAGEMENT ARE WHAT KEEP US FIC WRITERS GOING. PLEASE REMEMBER THAT IF YOU ENJOYED THIS.
Dieter doesn't even let you step fully into his home before he's got you in his arms, wrapping you in his warm embrace. Your suitcases clatter to the floor as you cling to him, burying your face in his neck and fighting back tears.
"You can stay as long as you want," Dieter promises you as one hand cups the back of your head. "Stay forever."
You give a watery chuckle into his shoulder, not quite ready to let go of him. You only break apart when the smell of European cigarettes wafts into the room.
You swipe at your damp eyes while Dieter turns to greet the tiny woman with a shock of white curls. She wears an oversized green t-shirt and loose khaki pants. She shuffles from place to place in her oversized moccasins.
"You remember Magda, right?"
"I think we've met a few times," you say extending your hand. The old woman gives you a look before shuffling over and placing her hand on your belly. You're in too much shock to pull back.
"A healthy boy," she tells you through a thick Eastern European accent. You and Dieter exchange looks of surprise.
"Uh yeah," you peer down at her shriveled frame, "How did you know that it was a boy?"
"I can tell."
She says it with a sage nod and then with that revelation she shuffles off to the kitchen, the feather duster still firmly lodged under her bony arm.
"She's the best," Dieter says says fondly before turning back to you with a look of expectancy. "Lemme show you where you're staying."
He takes both of your suitcase handles and jerks head to the left indicating you should follow.
You follow him out into his garden beside the pool. A place that you've never really visited much before. Most of your business has been conducted inside in his kitchen or in his office. You've heard about his guest house, how he had so many decorators come in over the years.
When you enter into it now, you're surprised at just how normal it seems. You were waiting for whips and chains and other strange memorabilia to line the walls. But instead it looks like something out of a Martha Stewart magazine. Crisp White's and Blue wainscotting. Overstuffed chairs and couches surround the coffee table from the photo he sent you. It's strangely tasteful.
It doesn't suit him at all.
Dieter must notice your surprise because he smirks before he rolls your suitcases towards the kitchen bar.
"Remember that Danish woman I dated for a couple months right after you started working for me?"
"Yeah, Lyda something.'
"Right. She wanted to start a career as an interior designer. I let her run the show in this place. Not really my taste."
"Not really mine either," You admit looking around the space. "It is beautifully done but I prefer the place we stayed in Ireland, like, that aesthetic. Old wood and big windows."
"I like that too," Dieter agrees. He sees you yawn and immediately feels guilty for keeping You up after such an emotional day.
"I'm going to have Petra whip you up something for dinner."
Petra is Dieter's chef who stocks his fridge with high end
"Dieter you don't-"
"You gotta take care of you and little Bravo remember?"
Dieter feels something in his chest bloom when instead of rolling your eyes you smile at him, nodding.
"Thanks Dieter."
You wake up the next morning in the plush duvet with your arms stretched above your head before rolling an absent hand down your swollen belly.
"Morning little boy," you whisper to the tiny being there beneath your fingertips. You give a groan as you gently roll yourself off the bed sliding into your slippers and pulling on your robe. Despite your devastation of what happened with your mother, waking up in this beautiful space on this gorgeously sunny day has you feeling hopeful.
This feeling is dampened slightly when you glance at your phone, looking to the calendar and seeing a date in the coming week starred. A date you have been dreading for months. Your birthday. The first one of yours since your father passed. Without your mom around this seems especially painful to consider. You close your phone, not wanting to think about it.
You spot a tall figure out the window and feel your cheeks flush. Something has shifted since Ireland. Something that terrifies you. The whisper of feelings that you're having a hard time repressing when you think of how he supports you.
But you push it from your mind. Your worlds don't match up. You’re serious, you take life seriously, you want to dedicate yourself to science. Dieter wants to fuck and party and grab life by the balls.
Plus he's with Mia and she makes him happy.
Dieter saunters across the backyard, narrowly missing the pool as he heads to the guest house. He's wearing an old t-shirt and sweatpants under tattered robe, his eyes hidden behind his sunshades. He's carrying a tumbler of whiskey in one hand and a smoothie in the other.
"Dieter it’s ten in the morning," you say as you open the sliding door to greet him.
"I'm still on Ireland time," he says giving you a waggle of his brows before setting the pale
pink smoothie down on the kitchen counter. "Breakfast when you're ready for it."
He sees you eyeing the smoothie warily and gives a deep rumbling chuckle.
"Petra made this one so you're safe. You like strawberries right?"
You take a tentative sip, before giving a soft moan of approval and drinking down the rest.
He rocks back on his heels a moment and despite the dark of his glasses, you can feel his gaze lingering on you.
"So... What're you up to today, Bravo?"
"You mean you don't know?"
"I'm officially no longer part of team Bravo remember?" You remind him with a sad chuckle as you place the empty glass back on the counter. "Diane cut my access to work emails and calendars."
"Shit that's right, I forgot." He looks at you with such a guilty expression. "I'm sorry."
"S'okay. I'm looking at this like a real non working vacation," you tell him honestly pointing out the window. "I figure you have a pool, there's a chef, a housekeeper, I brought books, what more could I ask for?"
"Plus you have a recreation staff," Dieter grins, taking you by the hand and twirling you gently towards him. "Dance lessons by the pool, movie nights, anything the customer wants."
"Hmmm an end to global warming?"
"Sorry that's only with the premium package."
You let out a loud laugh as Dieter joins you, spinning you into a hug. His mouth is only inches from yours and when the two of you realize this your mutual laughter ebbs.
Dieter wants nothing more than to press his mouth to yours, to taste you, to fuck you here in his home. But he knows it's not what you want. You don't want that from Dieter. You want somewhere safe to stay and he'll provide that to you.
Besides there is someone who does want his affection, his touch: Mia.
You swallow, your body poised and mouth slowly tilting towards Dieter before he seems to realize himself. He slowly extricates his arms from around you before reaching into his robe pocket, clearing his throat.
"Here's the key," Dieter tells you, holding it out to you. You take it, looking at the tiny Jameson keychain on it. The one that matches the one Dieter got you in Ireland that you wear on your own keychain. You smile at the sight of it before looking puzzled.
"A key?"
"For the guest house."
"I don't need to lock it," you chide even as you take it from him and toss it into your purse. "It's just you and me here right?"
"Yeah," Dieter hides the broad of his grin behind his whiskey glass. "Just you and me."
For the next several days Dieter tries to give you as much space as possible. He brings you a smoothie every morning citing that Magda is too busy. In the evenings he texts you to invite you over to the big house for dinner. Sometimes you join him, sometimes you’re just too tired.
You always go back to the guest house feeling a little bit down. You didn’t realize you missed sleeping in the same house, how Ireland made it almost feel like living together. Dieter’s place is so large it’s like you’re in separate neighborhoods.
Dinners are starting to be hard as well. Knowing you’ll be leaving to go back to the empty guest room. It’s a luxury, that’s for certain with its tall ceilings and plush bed. But it feels quiet without Dieter’s music or loud laughter.
And so you can admit to yourself that every morning he comes by with the pink smoothie and a big grin, your heart leaps a little bit. Like now, seeing him rushing over more frenzied than usual. He smiles, pushing the drink into your hand hurriedly.
“Here. Drink fast, I finished the nursery and want you to come look.”
“When did you have time to do the nursery?” You ask amazed as you follow him to the main house, smoothie almost drained by the time you reach his place.
“I’ve been in touch with this guy Diora from Albania over email since Ireland. He’s all the rage, super hard to get but he was really excited about trying his hand at a nursery. He just finished Criss Angel’s man cave and James Franco’s bedroom.”
Dieter sweeps a hand to the middle of your back, guiding you down the hall. When he opens the door with a flourish it takes everything in you not to gasp in horror. Your hand still rises to your mouth, though when you step into the room.
It looks like a sex dungeon.
Black and white striped walls, a beautifully ornate crib painted a ghastly red.
"Contrasting colors are good for baby’s retinas," Dieter says confidently. "I read it somewhere."
It takes you a few moments of staring at everything before you can speak.
"You have whips hung on the walls."
"Those are vintage skipping ropes," Dieter tells you aghast at your misunderstanding. You turn slowly, taking everything in. Finally you shake your head slowly.
"Dieter, this is totally inappropriate for a nursery," you say. "What baby would be happy here?"
Dieter takes a moment to glance around the space, his previous elation dimming with every word from you.
"This is what Diora suggested. He's the hottest designer right now."
"Of millionaire bachelor pads," you say as you look at a particularly ugly piece of metal hanging from the ceiling. "Not for a baby’s room."
"I'm not gonna have some tacky nursery with stuffed bears and shit,” Dieter defends. “I can't do it. Anyone who comes over and sees that'll think I've lost my edge."
The thought of being a father is immensely appealing to Dieter. The thought of being a loser Dad is not.
“Mia said it was cool,” Dieter shoots out. “I sent her photos.”
Mia is also in her early twenties, you want to snap. But you hold your tongue, trying to see the upsides to this nursery. Unfortunately you can see none. Everything is a safety hazard.
Dieter paces around the room, suddenly sour at the whole thing. He thought you’d be excited to see where the baby will be. Instead you’ve come in with your judgments and frowning face.
"Please let me... Dieter let me help you with this," you almost beg. "I just.... I know he's not mine but I can't stand the thought of him being in this... Baby prison."
I know he's not mine.
This hurts Dieter to hear it. He knows that you face no interest in being in this baby's life or his the week after you've given birth. But he can admit he's fooled himself with you being here.
But this? This is a project the two of you can work on. A potential to have more reason to have you in the house, not in that fucking guest house. He can only think of so many reasons to knock on your door apart from smoothies.
"Okay, sure."
“Okay,” you say looking relieved. “How about a pale blue or green? Then we can get a nice crib and some rugs and gauzy curtains.”
“That’s so boring.”
“And safe,” you emphasize. “You have to think of his safety, Dieter.”
Dieter pouts slightly in thought, trying to see the nursery through your eyes. He has to concede that perhaps this is a bit much for a newborn.
"Actually, you know what would look really beautiful on this far wall here?" You muse, looking at the space. "That painting you bought me for my birthday."
You think of the artwork hanging in your bedroom. The one of the woman looking out over the ocean, her hair whipping in the sea air. It’s the one thing you didn’t bring from home that you regret. There was something about that painting that made you feel relaxed.
"I didn't buy you that," Dieter says with a furrowed brow.
Your stomach sinks at this admission from Dieter and you wish you could take back everything. The intimacy of the moment, the vulnerability. He never even fucking bought the thing himself. Diane probably did and here you are pouring your heart out about it.
"Oh, uh-Or Diane or whoever-"
"I painted it for you."
All the animosity that had been brewing behind your sternum drains from you. A smile blooms immediately, your body tingling as you roll onto your side to fully face him.
"You did?"
"Yeah," Dieter is smirking at you from the shadows. "I love painting. You think I'd buy you a fucking painting?"
“I think I just assumed that you got Diane or whoever to ship it to me."
"Maybe if you were someone else," Dieter muses, his gaze wandering around the nursery. "Someone who doesn't do everything for me." He falls silent a moment. "You really thought I bought it?"
"Yeah."
"Didn't you think it was weird that the girl in the painting was you?"
Now you're stunned and it must show on your face because Dieter is chuckling softly now.
"You've had it hanging up your room for how long? Did you even look at it?"
"Of course I did, I do," you say in a rush, feeling embarrassed. You look at it every night you’re in your bedroom. "I just ... I never thought..."
"What?"
"I never thought you saw me."
Dieter blinks back at you, his dark eyes searching your face.
"I just mean you never even said thank you before this whole baby thing," you explain. "I've worked for you for a while and you kinda just expected I'd be at your beck and call all hours of the day and night, even on my days off."
"I'm sorry," Dieter whispers. "That was shitty of me."
"Why do you do it?
“I went through so many assistants I just assumed you wouldn’t be sticking around long.” Dieter looks ashamed as he says it out loud. “But then the longer you stayed the more I depended on you. I think… After a while I think it just felt weird to not message you.”
You both lapse into a thoughtful silence.
“You’ll manage just fine without me when I leave,” you tell him, needing him to know. “And if you’re ever feeling really lost and like you just need to talk to someone, you can always call me. Not as an employee, but as a friend.”
“Really? We’re friends?”
“Yeah,” you nod, heart hammering. “Friends.”
Dieter wakes up hard every morning for the next two weeks. He doesn't try to; he actively tries to think of other things before he goes to sleep. He watches documentaries, he reads art books, he meditates. He tries to push you from his thoughts so he can wake up normal.
But he always wakes up aching with the head of his cock weeping, flickering remnants of his dreams still floating around his subconscious. And those dreams are always of you.
Today he wakes up with the memory of his dream still lingering. You on your knees, his cock in your mouth and your eyes heavy lidded. As he shifts in bed Dieter realizes his boxers are sticky with previous release. A fucking nocturnal emission? How old is he?
And what's worse is that he's still fucking hard. Throbbing, actually He groans low in his throat and tries to ignore it.
You're here at his home. You're practically living with him. You're only a few steps from his back door. You're so close and yet so frustratingly far from him. He misses being in the same home as you, like the rental in Ireland. He misses the feeling of coming home after a long day on set and seeing your sweet face on the couch.
He wants that again.
Dieter rolls onto his belly to try and squash his current erection against the mattress. But that doesn't help, it just gives a delicious friction. He shifts again experimentally, groaning at the shiver that travels from the base of his spine to the tip. In his sleepy arousal he imagines that it's not the mattress but you that he's fucking.
"You like that?" Dieter murmurs, eyes closed as he rocks against his bed. "Like feeling me like that, baby?"
He pushes his hips into the bed, starting to rut when the pleasure increases.
You're so big, Dieter.
And suddenly he's thrusting against it, picturing your body writhing under him.
Need it, Dieter. Fuck me harder.
"Yes," Dieter groans into his pillow, his hands gripping the edge of the mattress. He thrusts furiously into the soft fabric of the bed, hips bouncing up and down on the mattress.
Need your big cock, daddy, your dream self moans. Need it deep.
"Fuck yes, baby. Take Daddy's cock. Take it and-"
His phone chirrups loudly on the table next to him, breaking him from the immersive fantasy.
A name and photo flash up on the screen.
Mia.
Immediately he feels guilty. Here he is humping his mattress to thoughts of you as his gorgeous, talented, funny, sexy girlfriend is calling.
He breathes rapidly through his nose, slowing his grinding movements. He rolls over in the bed, reaching for the phone.
"Hey babe," Dieter says, panting as he answers. He flips onto his back, willing his cock to go down.
"You okay? You sound like you've been exercising and I know that can't be true."
Dieter barks a laugh at that. He's about to reply when he hears a splash outside his window. Mia starts chatting in his ear but he's completely taken with the view outside his window.
You're in a bikini, gliding through the clear water of his pool. Dieter feels his mouth run dry at the sight, especially when you roll over onto your back, your belly protruding from the water like a beacon. Your hair dances around your head, your eyes closed, face tilted towards the sun. You have the sweetest little smile on your face.
You're so fucking beautiful.
"Dee? You there?"
"Huh? Yeah, sorry babe what?"
"I wanted to know how you're getting on? I've been staying off socials for the last little bit of the shoot trying to stay focused. I finally saw the photos from the airport. How is the poor thing holding up?"
"Stressed, but better."
"She must be happy to be at home away from all that madness."
Dieter feels his stomach clench. He knows he has to be honest with Mia, she's his girlfriend, she deserves to know. And yet he hesitates because he knows how it sounds.
"She's staying in my guest house, actually," Dieter offers in what he hopes is a nonchalant voice.
The warmth from Mia's voice is immediately gone.
"Pardon me?"
"She's, uh, in my guest house for the time being," Dieter adds, closing his eyes and bracing himself.
Mia shuffles on the other end before her voice reaches out to him confused.
"I thought you wanted a relationship with me, Dieter. Otherwise why did your agent go to so much trouble to confirm it? To do a splashy roll-out?"
"I do want it."
"But you have the employee you got pregnant living with you?"
"Not with me. In the guest house."
"This is weird, Dee."
He hears the concern in her voice and he feels his stomach drop. He doesn't want to lose Mia.
"Her mom kicked her out," Dieter explains quickly. "What was I supposed to do?"
"Pay for a hotel?"
The answer is so clear, so obvious. Why didn't he offer a hotel? He has the money. Why had it been so important for him to have you here?
Because then he could see you every day.
The answer is immediate but he won't admit it. Not now.
"The paps have been relentless," Dieter says finally. "They'll camp out outside of wherever I put her up. Not like here where I know she's safe away from the public eye."
"But-"
"She's not like us, Mia," Dieter insists. "She doesn't want fame and all that shit. She's just a regular person who's pregnant and alone. Her mom kicked her out, she's got no one else."
He can almost hear Mia softening over the phone.
"It's just hard, Dee," she says finally. "Especially when I haven't seen you in weeks."
Dieter feels a flutter of panic at how sad she sounds. He wants to make it up to her and has a great idea of how.
"Prague!"
Dieter bursts out with this, wincing when he hears how loud he is.
"Sorry, what?"
"What do you think about Prague?" Dieter corrects himself, rubbing nervously at his beard. "You're flying to LA next week for our magazine spread, right?"
"Yeah."
"And you've always wanted to go to Prague, right?"
"Yes."
"So let's do it. After the shoot let's get away from everyone and everything for a few weeks just us two."
"You'd really want to do that?"
"Of course."
He hears Mia weighing the choice on the other end of the line. He holds his breath until he can almost hear her smile.
"Okay Dee, let's do it."
“Amazing,” Dieter says grinning. “I’ll get Diane to send you the details. See you next week.”
He hangs up quickly, undressing and pulling on his swim trunks.
You’re floating on your back, sunglasses on your face, your body most submerged in the cool water. You hear the sound of a door opening and crack one eye open to see Dieter approaching.
Dieter never uses his pool. He got the house on a whim and didn’t even notice it had a pool until he officially moved in. But right now seeing your tits overflowing out of your bikini cups has him so utterly thankful to his former self.
He shrugs off his robe, sliding into the chilly water with an exaggerated brrrr. He swims over to you, sunglasses perched on the end of his nose.
“Looked so refreshing I had to join.”
“It’s so nice,” you sigh, your arms and legs out as you soak up the sun and enjoy the lack of strain on your lower back. “I never want to get out.”
Dieter paddles near you for a moment, wanting to remember this moment before he recalls his conversation with Mia.
“Well you’ll have the place to yourself the next couple of weeks.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah, Mia and I are going to Prague like you suggested.”
“That’s so great," you say with a tightness in your voice. “When do you leave?”
“Next Thursday.”
Next Thursday.
Dieter stars to drone on about how Mia has all these restaurants and museums she wants to go to but all you can think of is that you’ll be alone on your birthday. The first one since your father passed. No mother to turn to. Nothing. You’ll be completely alone.
A sudden flutter begins in your abdomen and you give an absent smile, hand slowly sliding over your stomach.
Well, not completely alone.
From where you stand in your guest house kitchen you can see into the main house. Specifically into the dining room. At night when the landscape is dark and the lights are on inside you can see it very clearly.
Like tonight.
You can see him pacing inside the house, his tall frame gesticulating wildly. He's obviously going over some lines. He asked you to have dinner and run through them but you’d texted back some feeble excuse.
The truth is you need to separate yourself as much as possible from Dieter because you’re convinced that what you’re starting to feel can’t be explained away by hormones. This desire to be with him.
But he’s leaving with Mia in a few short days on some whirlwind romantic escape. You even showed him the best way to pack his fucking suitcase! The sight of a box of condoms at the bottom of it hidden by the toiletries bag made your throat tighten.
Despite this your eyes sail over to Dieter’s house again, watching him make a note on his script before running through the lines. He looks so sexy when he does it, totally lost in the moment. It reminds you of the character he played in Ireland.
Fuck, that insatiable need is coursing through your body again. The hormones kicking into overdrive as you feel your thighs press together at the memory of Dieter and that regency costume. He looked so good in it. You can almost hear his husky voice in your ear.
It's okay if you want it, baby. Lemme give it to you.
You throw yourself into your plush bed, your hands sliding down under your panties and working frantically against your straining clit.
Uh huh. Just like that. Gotta come on my fingers before you get this cock.
You throw your head back, thighs squeezing as you rut against your fingers. This phantom Dieter plays in your mind, his husky voice full of dark, delicious promise.
Gonna fuck such pretty sounds out of you.
"Dieter," you groan, unable to help yourself. It's pathetic how quickly and easily your orgasm overtakes you. It leaves you shuddering and whimpering, rutting into your fingers and then finally collapsing back as you stare at the ceiling.
What the fuck are you doing?
Despite everything Dieter is still your boss in some ways. He’s still the man paying you to have a child. Yes, he’s sort of a friend, but at the end of the day he still holds some authority over you.
You wish that last thought didn’t turn you on so much.
You’re still groaning when you hear the light tap of knuckles on glass and you jerk up in your bed, face flushed.
You wipe your damp hand on the sheets before slowly stumbling out of the bedroom. Dieter is standing there at the glass door, giving you a stiff wave. You move quickly, tugging the door open. The sound of cicadas and LA night traffic punctuate the formerly peaceful space.
“Is everything okay?”
“I’m really sorry to come over here so late but Magda just told me when she was cleaning this place this afternoon she saw a roach.”
“What?”
Immediately you’re moving towards him, glancing behind you in disgust. Your eyes sweep the floor and counters for any trace. Strange, you haven’t noticed anything and this place is kept perfectly clean.
“Yeah,” Dieter nods, looking tense. “So I gotta get this place fumigated ASAP.”
“Of course.”
“But the fumes are bad for the baby so you’ll have to move your stuff into the main house until it’s finished.”
“For how long do you think?”
“Dunno,” Dieter shrugs, motioning to the room airily. “I was gonna call a guy in the morning to get some quotes. Might be a couple weeks before they can get someone out here.”
A couple weeks? Dieter has enough money to have the place fumigated tonight if he really wanted to. You gaze up at Dieter about to say as such when you see the searching nature of his eyes and suddenly the shoe drops.
There’s no roach.
You note the tense way he rubs his fingers together, the way his brows rise and eyes go owlish the longer you stare at him.
“I’m terrified of roaches,” you finally tell him as you start to throw your stuff into your suitcases. “Can I move my stuff in tonight?”
“Would be the safest,” Dieter nods exaggeratedly helping you to pack. It takes no time at all before he’s helping you carry the suitcases across the yard and into his home.
The guest room is just as nice as the guest house with tall ceilings but slightly less homey. Dieter prefers marble floors and gold accents. Things he was taught as a child meant rich. The bed is lovely, but minimalist. You are however very impressed with the large bathtub and even bigger rain forest shower. You put your suitcases to the side, feeling Dieter watch you from the doorway.
“It’s still early you wanna watch a doc or something?”
You bite back the delighted smile that threatens to bleed over your features before you turn to face him.
“Sure.”
“Okay, you got your passport, the tickets are on your phone, your bags are packed,” the young man’s reedy voice lists off things from his checklist as the three of you stand in the kitchen the following week. Dieter is sitting on one of the stools dressed nicely and looking nervously from the paper to you, completely ignoring Rupert.
“Maybe I shouldn’t go.”
“Dieter.”
“What if you go into labor?”
“Almost three months early?” you force a laugh from where you stand by the fridge. “Then we have bigger issues than you not being here. Now c’mon. Mia’ll be here any second.”
Today is the photo spread for the movie Mia and Dieter starred in. It’ll run late so the lovebirds have decided on spending the night in a fancy hotel before shuttling off to Prague the next day. Dieter is always nervous about trips away but he realizes this is especially daunting since he’ll have no PA with him.
Diane has sent him someone new over during the week. A young man with bloodshot eyes and a nervous countenance named Robert or Roger. Dieter can’t remember. All he knows is that the kid does his job decently but he isn’t you.
But he promised himself that he would plan this trip for he and Mia. He researched the restaurants and hotels with her and booked it all. He got them the best seats in the plane and the nicest suite in the hotel.
But all he can think is that he’s going to be away from you for two weeks. Away from his son nestled safely in your body.
“I made a new tape for him,” Dieter says, suddenly snapping. He reaches into his pocket and slides the tape towards you. “Make sure he listens.”
“Yes, yes,” you say rolling your eyes.
The doorbell rings and Rupert immediately goes to answer it leaving you and Dieter alone. He watches you peering into the fridge trying to find something to satisfy your current craving of salty vanilla pudding.
“I don’t want to leave you.”
His voice is a quiet hum. Your mouth tries to form the words but all you can think of is Dieters warm eyes, his hands caressing your belly, the sweet timbre of his voice when he reads to you when you can’t sleep.
“I’m going to be okay,” you promise him softly as you glance over to him. “Now go say hello to your girlfriend.”
Dieter nods resolutely before bolting around the corner to see Mia. You hear his excited greeting and you try not to feel upset. Instead you dig around in the cupboard for something salty. You hear your name being called and you turn to see Dieter and Mia entering the room.
Mia’s eyes go round with shock at seeing you waddle towards her. You give a bright smile, despite the pang that goes through you at the sight of them hand-in-hand.
"Oh wow," Mia says when you waddle into the room holding a bag of chips.
"Weird right?"
"A little," she laughs. You join in, knowing how strange this entire scenario is. You feel like a baby hippo meanwhile Mia looks like she just stepped off the runway.
“So nice to see you,” she says, giving you an awkward hug as she avoids the bump. “I brought a little something for the baby,” she hands a wrapped gift to Dieter, “and one for you.”
Dieter unwraps the package, bringing out a first edition copy of Winnie the Pooh. Your eyes widen at the sight. That must have cost her a fortune.
“Thanks babe,” Dieter says warmly, kissing her. You look away, unwilling to watch and unwrap your gift from Mia which turns out to be a delicate crystal flower vase. Arguably one of the most useless things on the planet since you hate flowers. Dieter knows this and you think you catch a curl of amusement in his face.
“You didn’t have to do this,” you falter.
“I know,” she says sweetly. “I just saw it and thought of you.”
“It’s beautiful,” you say, careful not to exchange amused looks with Dieter across the room. You shoot a soft smile at Mia. “Thank you so much. I’ll go pop it in my room so it doesn’t get broken. Magda tends to be a little chaotic when she cleans.”
You turn, about to go down the hallway to the bedroom when you feel something like tension in the room. You don't know why you pause but you do.
"I thought you were staying in the guest house?" She asks you but her eyes are scanning Dieter’s face.
“She was,” Dieter explains, hoping his cheeks aren’t red. “But there were roaches.”
Mia’s face scrunches. “Roaches?”
“Yeah,” you finally fumble, rubbing absently at your stomach. "The guest house needed to be fumigated and that’s not safe for the baby. That’s the only reason I’m in the guest room. I’ll be out in the guest house as soon as the fumigation is over."
Mia nods, but you don't miss the lingering look there in her light eyes.
With Dieter in Prague for the next few weeks you have a lot of free time to yourself. The only problem is you have no one to spend it with. You can't be seen in public now without a bodyguard save for your short walks through Dieter's Calabasas neighborhood. Phone calls with your mom are no longer an option. So you spend most of your time scrolling through social media, watching movies and swimming.
Dieter has always been annoying but he's the kind of annoying that brings you comfort now. Without his loud presence in the house you start to feel lonely. A strange feeling you've never really experienced due to your busy lifestyle.
It makes you long for the sound of Dieter's record player in the art room. Makes you long for his brash laughter during a funny commercial. Makes you long for the way your voices worked against one another when practicing lines, the sound of him muttering to himself when he reads something that interests him in the paper, the way he rasps your name when he’s just woken up.
All the sounds of Dieter that you realize have come to be their own comforting symphony to you.
But he’s with Mia and that's how it should be. They're on the same level. And you know that these feelings are from your hormones. This warmth will fade the second this child is taken from you and is likely contributing to this lonely feeling that arises with you each empty morning.
He’s only been gone four days but those days seem to stretch into eternity. Your mind is usually so full and your schedule packed. But you’re almost annoyingly free right now. Dieter has made only one request of you and that is to update the app every day at least once. He says it makes him feel less guilty about leaving, even though you're the one who encouraged it.
So you do.
29 weeks
Cravings
SALT
Vanilla
pie filling
chips
peanuts
Missing
the ability to see my feet
Baby is size of butternut squash
The only thing that tethers you to Dieter are the sporadic text messages he sends you. Where you once found his constant need to stay in touch annoying, now you crave his random messages, re-reading them with a smile.
[1:44pm] D: I hate not speaking Czech. I feel like everyone is making fun of me and I have no proof.
[1:44pm]: You're being paranoid.
[1:44pm] D: I'm not!!!
[1:46pm] D: Okay maybe a little. Mia and I did an edible.
[1:46pm]: Dieter!
[1:46pm] D: Diane said no hard drugs! Edibles are natural.
You roll your eyes.
[1:47pm]: Whatever. Hope you're having fun.
You wish you could see his face when you recall Mia's instagram. You forgot you follow her. The second you click on her story you wish you hadn't. It's her and Dieter in a gorgeous spot in Prague chatting with the caption: Czech us Out! @BravoitsDieter
Your loneliness hits you on the fifth day quite acutely. And instead of turning to television or swimming you lay on your back in bed and stare up into the ceiling before your fingers fumble for your phone and you type hurriedly.
[6:08am]: I think he has your hair.
[6:12am] D: Huh? What?? Why?
[6:12am]: They say if the mother has lots of heartburn then the kid will have lots of hair. Right now I feel like my heart has been dropped in acid.
[6:13am] D: No way. I thought babies were always bald.
[6:13am]: Not always. I wasn't. Were you?
[6:13am] D: Dunno. Never saw baby photos of myself.
[6:14am]: Why not?
[6:14am] D: My mom cared about stuff like that. When she died my dad just put everything in the attic and tried to forget.
You didn't know that about Dieter. You've heard snatches of information from other staff that Dieters dad is a low life, but to not save photos of your kid? That seems cruel.
[6:14am]: I'm sorry.
[6:15am] D: NP.
[6:15am] D: Mia is taking me to a museum so I gtg ttyl
You frown at the phone.
"What a bitch," you murmur before stopping yourself. You think about how your baby can probably hear sounds outside the womb now and you feel guilty.
"No, actually, she's not a bitch. She's really lovely and she's so good for your dad."
Your hands drift over your belly slowly, subconsciously as you speak and soon your eyes follow suit.
"Strange to think you're just in there all snuggly," you tell your belly with amusement. You gasp when you think you can feel a slight flutter within you abdomen.
"Is that you?" You wonder aloud. "Can you hear me?"
The fluttering continues and you feel something in you shift. Your heart squeezes pleasantly. He rarely moves around for just you. It seems he's most active when Dieter is nearby.
"You're really in there," you laugh to yourself. "And you can hear me."
The lonely feelings begin to dissipate. You're not alone - you have your son to keep you company. You talk to him through the day. You make jokes about bubble having Dieters hair. You talk to Bubble about the book you read on the porch. When you watch a documentary you narrate for the baby.
You update the app with a cheerful photo of you making a heart over the bellybutton with your fingers. You think Dieter will get a kick out of it.
When you go to bed you put the headphones over your belly and hit play on the walkman.
"This is a new one from your Dad," you tell your belly wryly as you position the foam on either side of your bump. "So I apologize now if it's fucking annoying."
With a serene smile you go to sleep with his muffled voice against your skin. And when you wake up on the sixth day you feel good. It's not until you look at the calendar that you're reminded of Friday's date.
Your birthday.
The first one without your father. It makes your stomach drop.
As if all of California has gotten the memo the day is grey and drizzly. You spend most of the day napping and eating whatever Petra has put together. But by mid afternoon you’re feeling restless. You try walking around the block, but the weather drives you back inside. You try to distract yourself but nothing seems to work.
Petra and Magda have gone home for the day. It’s just you and bubble and right now it feels like it’s just you. You decide to order a pizza for dinner, and as you wait for your Hawaiian Delight to arrive you can’t help but reach out to the one person you wish was here.
[5:48pm]: How is Prague?
[5:50pm] D: Boring.
[5:50pm]: Only you would say Prague is boring, Dieter.
[5:51pm] D: In the airport now. Gonna go to Germany for a couple days. Mia really wants to see Cologne Cathedral and apparently they’re doing some once-in-a-decade tour event thing. I dunno. How’s the bubble?
[5:51pm]: Still here.
You don’t know why you’re both still calling him Bubble. The tabloids have made it impossible not to be aware that you’re pregnant after all. But there’s something sweet about referring to him as your little Bubble.
[5:52pm] D: airport is so fucking noisy and I'm so tired. found coffee though.
[5:52pm]: Make sure not to drink too much. You won’t sleep on the plane.
[5:52pm] D: U didn’t update the app today.
[5:53pm]: Sorry, been distracted.
[5:53pm] D:???
[5:53pm] D: How come?
You have no desire to get into this over text. Besides it’s not Dieters problem, it’s yours. And it’s not a problem it’s just. . . life.
[5:55pm]: Doesn’t matter. Here, this will have to do.
You attach a picture of your hand over your swollen bump and send it over.
You’re surprised when you see Dieter calling.
“Hello?”
“Why are you distracted?”
“Dieter don’t you have better things to do than call me about this?” You say rolling your eyes, but still delighted to be hearing his raspy voice. “Aren’t you in the airport?”
“Yeah.”
“Isn’t Mia with you?”
“She went to get another magazine for the flight. You gonna tell me what’s going on? Is it the Bubble?”
“No,” you say grunting as you lean back against the sofa.
“Then what is it?”
“It’s nothing. I’m fine!”
“Cmon,” Dieter cajoles. “You know I’m just gonna keep calling and texting until you tell me.”
“Its pregnancy brain,” you throw out, hoping this will satiate him.
“Liar. Your voice always does that clipped thing when you lie.”
You can’t help but feel a small smile cross your features. You hear the distant boarding call for his flight and you decide you might as well tell him. It’s not like he doesn’t already know that your dead is dead.
“It’s just… It’s my birthday. The first one since my dad died and ...."
You trail off. You hear silence on the other end of the phone and then a soft fuck.
“Dieter?”
“I thought it was next month,” Dieter is murmuring and you can hear him tapping on the phone. “Fucking calendar. Fuck. I thought it was next month same day. That’s what I have it as. Fuck. This is why I don’t program my own fucking electronics. Fuck.”
“Nope. Today,” you clarify, amused at how frazzled he sounds. “But it’s not your problem. It’s just this is my first birthday without my Dad and, my Mom isn’t talking to me and I realized I’ve worked so hard so long I have no real friends and…. It’s just…”
You break off when you feel tears starting.
“Anyway, not your problem,” you say forcing your voice up an octave. “I’m only telling you because you asked. I hope you and Mia enjoy your trip! I can’t wait to see photos.”
“Hey, wait-“
“I gotta go,” you say, brushing the stray tears that have escaped. “Pizza guy is here. Bye!”
You hang up the phone and then place it on silent. You don’t want to talk with him anymore. You don’t want to talk with anyone. You just spoke to Dieter but that doesn't stop you from missing him. It gets to the point where you pull up old interview footage with him on YouTube just so you can hear his voice and see his smile.
When the pizza arrives you pay the guy delivering it, but then you just shove the box in the fridge. You take a shower, letting the tears mingle with the steamy droplets before pulling on a new nightdress. You grab the walkman and headphones, about to put them on when you pad t the kitchen for a glass of water.
You walk back, about to retire to your guest room, walking past Dieter’s bedroom. You’ve rarely ever been inside it and never when he isn’t at home. But something about today compels you into it, something make you push open the door and walk to his bed.
The room is recently cleaned by Petra, the bed freshly made, the floors sparkling, his clothing put away. The fireplace is off but you switch it on, noticing his tattered green robe freshly washed and hanging on the back of the bedroom door. You don’t even think about it, you just pull it on over your sleep dress and stumble into his bed.
Dieter’s bed is so comfy, even better than the one in his guest house and room. You curl under the sheets, burying your face in his pillow. It smells like his expensive shampoo and the cologne he sometimes wears. It brings tears to your eyes.
You wish he was here.
You turn onto your back, tummy swollen and resting heavily. It makes you long for Dieter in all aspects. Not just to fuck, but to spend time with. He's so different from anyone you know. He doesn't follow rules or social norms. But when you're with him you feel calm and not judged. It makes you feel like you can let go.
"Your daddy really is wonderful," you murmur to your belly, stroking it. "You might hear bad stuff but you need to know what a good heart he has. He's so generous and funny and he loves so deeply. You're not even here yet and he's so in love with you."
You look at the walkman resting beside you, and instead of putting it around your abdomen something inspires you to put the headphones on yourself. You’ve never listened to the message before but tonight you do.
You slip the cheap foam over your ears, rewinding the tape and smiling when his voice sounds out over the tape.
“Hey little Bravo, this is your dad speaking. I just found out you’re gonna be a boy. Woah. My son. Uh, I need you to know that you are so special and that when you’re born we’re gonna have so much fun. I’ve already made a list of places we’re gonna go. And-“
It goes on like this for several minutes with Dieter excitedly detailing all his future plans for he and his son. You hang onto every word, enraptured with the life he has in store for his son. You imagine a future with Dieter holding a baby with his same wild hair. And in this future you see him reach for a woman, but she isn’t you. It’s Mia, and she looks so happy with them. The perfect family.
Dieter’s voice draws you back in.
“You need to know that your Mom loves you just as much as me. I watch her patting you and whispering to you all the time. She told me last week that you were the size of a head of cauliflower. Then she started humming a song about her cauliflower son.”
You laugh out loud at the memory of you swimming a few weeks ago humming a tune about a cauliflower son. You didn’t even realize Dieter was paying attention. You turn your attention back to the recording.
“I just want you to know how much I love you. I love you so so much. I’m so excited to meet you.”
You stop the tape, rewinding it.
“I just want you to know how much I love you. I love you so much.”
You sniffle, rewinding the tape again.
“I just want you to know how much I love you. I love you so much.”
Again.
“I love you so much.”
Again and again you rewind to hear that section. And as you finally drift off into sleep it’s to the gentle sound of the man you desire whispering how much he loves you.
Dieter arrives at home late, toeing off his sneakers as he yawns, scratching his belly before heading for his bedroom. The suitcase is left at the front door, tomorrow’s problem. He’s exhausted from the flight and he needs to get some sleep before he talks to you tomorrow morning.
He opens the door to his room, preparing to throw himself into bed when he notices the fireplace is on. He pauses, seeing you in your bed lying on your side sleepily soundly. A small smile curls onto his lips when he sees the bright yellow walkman in your hand, fingers loosely around it. What strikes him is that you're wearing the headphones; you don't have them around your belly.
Dieter is quiet, looking down at your peaceful sleeping face illuminated by your bedside table. One of your hands is splayed over your belly protectively and this makes him smile. He gently pulls the earphones from off your head, sliding the walkman from your grip and placing both on his nightstand.
He figures he’ll sleep in the guest room tonight, musing that you’re playing musical beds tonight.
You murmur something sleepily, something be doesn't catch. He takes a minute longer to look at you and then his face hovers over yours. He kisses you softly, an innocent press of his lips to yours.
"G'night baby mama."
You shift partly awake, arms reaching out to wrap around his neck. He grins, allowing himself to get pulled into the bed next to you. You’re so warm. You don't say anything; you just snuggle up against him, face nuzzling against his neck.
"Go back to sleep, baby," Dieter tells your sleepy frame. "Just turning the light off."
He presses a ginger kiss to your temple before his free hand clicks the light next to the bed.
"Okay, love you, g'night," you murmur, still mostly dozing.
Dieter is silent, unmoving as your words rattle around in his head. He waits until you're snoring before he finally replies.
"I love you too."
TAGLIST: @getitoutofmymindwrites @manuymesut @whirlwindrider29 @mostardentlypascal @lu62 @missladym1981 @heareball @sptbear @drewharrisonwriter @lizzie-cakes @daddy-dins-girl @moel-jiller @tammythr @guelyury @lilyevanstan1325 @lu62 @sptbear @staywildflowahchild @whirlwindrider29 @pedropascalsbbg @cherrycosmos392
#dieter bravo x you#dieter bravo fic#dieter bravo x reader#dieter bravo#dieter x reader#dieter bravo fanfic#dieter bravo smut#pedro pascal fanfiction#fanfic#fanfiction#smut#series#a little sun
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Why is no one talking about this though?
I’m crawling out of the hole I’ve been hiding in to ask why no one is talking about this? I get the Disney Prince and Mr. Darcy vibes…100%. But what about Johnny Castle? I need this to happen now. 🫠
You can bet your sweet asses that I’m working this look into Closed Position. There is a running Dirty Dancing joke with Dieter that I’ve had planned from the beginning and this just made it even better.
I cannot wait to really dig into writing this fic. It’s gonna be so damn fun. 😉
Nobody puts Bravo (or Pedro) in the corner.
#pedro pascal#dirty dancing vibes#dancing king#dieter bravo#pedro pascal fanfiction#nobody puts Pedro in the corner#nobody puts bravo in the corner#I’ll dirty dance with him anytime#closed position teaser#closed position series
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Sweet Creature: Chapter One
Pairing: Dieter Bravo x F!Reader (In future chapters)
WC: 4070
Summary: A washed up movie star with a failing career, fresh out of rehab and looking to turn his life around. He moves back to his small hometown to take a break from stardom and help his sister out with his niece— He’s traded the high-life for school runs and crafting. What he doesn’t except is to meet you, his niece’s school teacher who couldn’t care less about his extensive filmography or his dwindling fame.
Warning: 18+ Blog; brief description of drug use, rehabilitation/mentions of rehab stay, getting treatment for drug addiction, absent parents, anxiety, sister giving ultimatum, apologetic Dieter, determined to turn life around, cursing, if I’ve missed anything feel free to let me know.
A/N: Firstly, big thank you to @gnpwdrnwhiskey for listening to me drone on about this! And for also being a champ and beta’ing for me too!!
This chapter has some heavy elements to it, and I hope it comes across as a serious tone considering the topic of drug usage. I wanted Dieter to be deliberate in his attempt to better himself. There might be some reference to this characters contents in the future, but this will be the only one containing any actual drugs. There’s a lot of information packed into this chapter to help get the story going. I’ve been so blown away by the responses to this series and I really hope I do it justice! Any questions/comments/or you just want to chat more about this chapter, my ask box is always open!! xx
Series Masterlist / Playlist / Main Masterlist
Next
A few sharp knocks on the bathroom door.
“Hello?? Is someone in there?”
No response.
The slightest twist of the knob. Unlocked. Unoccupied.
Only the opening of the door reveals quite the opposite. Occupied.
“Oh! I’m so so sor— Oh my god! Are you fucking serious right now?! You’re getting high at a 6 year old’s birthday party!”
No response. Just a deadpan look of nothingness from the body propped up next to the toilet.
“I fucking knew it. I knew you would fucking let her down!! God!!! You’re such a fucking deadbeat, washed up douchebag— so fucking ridiculous.”
“W-whyy a-rrre y-youuu yellllling? Shhhhh!” His speech laden with a hint of sarcasm.
“You’re a fucking joke! I can’t believe you would do this to your sister!”
“What are you yelling about in here?? Wren is getting ready to open her presents and wants everyone to watch her. Dieter why are you on the flo— are you fucking high?”
“Ag-ainnn shhhhhhh!” His pointer finger emphatically raised to his lips, the noise too much for his dazed mind.
“You promised me Dieter! You fucking promised me no drugs! I should have known better, I should have fucking known you’d do this— you don’t care about how much this hurts me to see you like this, constantly letting me down. I’m done Dieter, I’m so fucking done trying to help you if you’re not going to help yourself. Fuck! Get the fuck out! Go! Now!! I don’t want you near us, I won’t put Wren through this. Get help or stay away!”
The door slams, Dieter left alone to ruminate over what was said in the small tiled space.
Even in his stupefied state, the words thrown at him were enough to make an immediate impact. The cognitive part of his brain working over time to push through and make a levelheaded thought.
“Deadbeat”
“Washed up”
“Get help or Stay away”
Reaching for his phone, he dials his lifeline who drops everything for him, probably due to her reoccurring paycheck, his assistant whom he’s thankful doesn’t hate him enough to ignore his call out of the blue.
“Heeeey! I n-neeeed y-you to c-ommme g-get meee…”
He knew this was it, he had to get his shit together or suffer the consequences.
*
He feels different if he’s being honest with himself.
Lighter.
Healthier.
Alive.
365 days clean. He made a commitment to a year long stay at a drug rehabilitation center, followed by a 3 month residency in a sober living facility conveniently tucked away in the Hollywood hills.
Yet, he feels more lost than he was before he started treatment.
He can’t remember what living a normal, healthy life is like— a life not high out of his mind 24/7.
This wasn’t his first time trying to get clean, he’d become a regular of sorts at a few different rehab centers scattered through out the greater Los Angeles area.
Each stay with the same goal and each one a failed attempt at getting control over his life without the drugs.
It was never “hope this is the time it really clicks for him”, it was always a question of “how long will he go this time before he’s kicked out and checking into the next one”— might have even been a headline a time or two.
Many centers refusing to even consider treating him based on his past reputation alone.
His agent’s patience was wearing thin trying to book roles for Dieter, doing his best to convince directors he wasn’t a liability and he could get the job done with zero risk in hiring him— it was far from the truth.
Each day on set became a game of Russian Roulette, no one really knowing which side of Dieter they would be dealing with while shooting. That in itself was a metaphorical high he chased with each role he booked, seeing how long before some one caught on to his slurred words, blood shot eyes and sluggish demeanor.
On numerous occasions Dieter thought he was skillful in his ability to mask his inebriated ego. He was combative with the crew and fellow actors— his temperament calm and mellow one moment, then seething and dripping with rage the next.
He was getting sloppy. The teetering domino of his life had slowly began to tip and once it did finally fall, his entire life crumbling around him.
*
The traffic is heavier than expected. Dieter wonders if it’s due to others similarly seeking to leave the city in hopes for a break from the dim aura that Los Angeles is. He can feel the weight of the city’s reputation lift from his shoulders with each passing mile as he maneuvers through the stretch of freeway congestion.
A few honking horns bring his attention back to the conversation he’s currently semi engaged in.
“This is a big step Dieter. I’m really proud of how far you’ve come.”
He instantly cringes at the thought of getting back out to sell himself for roles. Facing those who were- and are- tired of his shit.
The downfall of his career began when he was late for dress rehearsal for a role he some how managed to get— this role having potential to get him in the running for award nominations, propelling his career to new heights. But when he was no where to be found at call time, his assistant went on the search for him and it’s where she found him passed out in his trailer. He was too far gone to even pull himself together, prompting the director to fire him on the spot.
The rate of speed at which news travels in Hollywood is the equivalent to a fast moving wildfire— once that first bit of gossip hits the ground, it’s spreading through the industry with a sudden surge of ferocity and growing far beyond what is predictable.
His agent's attempt at damage control was a wasted effort. Directors dumping Dieter’s preproduction roles, actors refusing to work with him and threatening to quit if Dieter stayed on— his list of films beginning to dwindle in a matter of days and by the end of the week, Dieter Bravo was jobless.
“The next few months will go by quickly, and before you know it you’ll be back out here booking jobs and proving everyone wrong.”
Vanessa, Dieter’s assistant and full time babysitter, always seemed to have a way to make him feel at ease. And at this point, the only person he knew who believed he could actually turn his life around.
“I really fucking hope so.” He sighs, this was his attempt at thinking positive.
“Have you talked to her yet?” Her voice cracking through the car speakers as he continues his drive north on the 101.
“Briefly. Told her I’d probably be getting in around 6 or so— BEEP!— Watch out asshole!” Throwing a middle finger at said asshole driver who nearly missed clipping his car.
“She’s proud of you too, ya know. Might not seem like it right now, but she is.”
“Hmm. I’ll just agree to disagree with you on that point. Having a drug addict—“
“Former drug addicted, Dieter.”
“Right— well, having a deadbeat for an older brother doesn’t really leave a lot to be proud of.”
“You’d be surprised. Hey, I got another call coming in. I’ll be in touch with you soon! Call me if you need anything! Again, Dieter, I'm really proud of you!”
“Thanks Nessa! I’ll talk to you soon.”
The call ending abruptly, leaving him to sit alone in his thoughts for the next hour and a half—something he hasn’t really taken the chance to experience since, well, a long while.
The Santa Monica Mountains provide a scenic view as he leaves behind the place he saw as his home for the last 20 years.
His current destination plugged into his stupidly expensive sports car.
Home. Where he grew up.
*
He can’t even remember the last time he visited. Not due to the years as an actor taking him to all areas of the world. The last time he had been home was just over a year ago and he was high out of his mind, barely remembering the trip as a whole.
His sister had asked if he’d be able to make it to his niece’s birthday. She was turning 6 and had been begging for her uncle to be there to celebrate with— he was easily her most favorite person. The specifics of the getting to his sister’s home and the actual party are pretty blurry for Dieter.
Dieter spent most of the last year trying to produce a coherent flashback of the day that would ultimately be his last time using, the reason for his commitment to getting his life together.
He never expected the lowest point in his life would be being caught in the bathroom of his sister’s home doing a few quick lines on the toilet seat, as his niece was blowing out 6 candles a few feet outside the tiny bathroom surrounded by friends and family.
The moments following are a mixture of hazy clips, fragmented bits of information,
he’s tried to piece together to the best of his ability.
The rush of someone bursting through the bathroom door, the echoes of laughter and music piercing his ears as he’s hunched on the floor against the wall, little specks of a white powdery residue dusting his mustache.
There’s screaming as he does his best to focus his blurry attention on the distorted enraged figure in front of him, yelling something about being washed up— his eye lids heavy and fighting against them to keep them opened.
If he had to recall the exact moment he knew he fucked up, it was seeing the hurt and disappointment on his sister's face— her face wet with tears as she poured out her disappointment and pain over the fact that he was strung-out at her daughter’s birthday party. The weight of his consequences bleeding through him as he vividly recalls his sister telling him to leave and not come back unless he was sober.
The next day he checked himself in, determined to get his life together for good.
*
He shakes away the subtle tinge of guilt that starts to bubble up in his chest.
Remembering the ‘54321 Method’ he was taught in treatment to help ground himself when his thoughts start to become overwhelming…
5 things you see: the sun slowly making its way to the horizon, cars moving swiftly by his own, Live Oak trees rooted among the mountains, the slightest twinkling of the first few stars, his reflection in the rear view mirror— lighter, healthier, alive.
4 things things to touch: the leather of the steering wheel, his jeans fabric soft and comfortable, the cool metal of his rings adorning his fingers, the weight of his sobriety chip in his pocket a constant reminder of how far he’s come.
3 things you hear: the familiar beat of a popular song streaming through the car speakers, rhythmic tapping of his thumbs in tune with the song, his off-key voice as he sings along to the words he knows.
2 things you smell: his olfactory nerve triggered at the distinct scent of his woody amber cologne, that new car smell that still lingers throughout the car’s interior.
1 thing you taste: a minty tingle on his tongue as he chews his last piece of gum.
His nerves settle, his eyes focused on the road ahead, deciding he’ll right his wrongs when he gets to his stop— his sister’s house.
*
The trip took longer than he’d originally planned. Weekend traffic to blame for the 2 hour delay in his arrival.
‘Welcome to Ojai’— the stone sign greets him, dim uplighting barely making it readable as he turns on to the familiar street.
The town is all but empty at this time of the night, street lights plus the few restaurants and bars that are open give off enough ambient light to drape the streets in a subtle glow.
He’s instantly taken back to his childhood, so many memories tucked away throughout the picturesque landscape.
Growing up with famous parents wasn’t all that glamorous in Dieter’s eyes.
Dieter’s parents, Dean and Mary Bravo, were both well known in the tv and movie world.
Dean had been known for his roles in James Bond-esque action films through his career, notably his best work among other smaller productions he worked on. Mary was the queen of daytime television with her numerous roles in soap opera’s biggest shows, a socialite getting invited to glamorous events and elite celebrity parties.
Together they were Hollywood’s “It” couple, jet-setting to all parts of the world when schedules allowed for it.
Dieter and his younger sister, while born into this movie star family, were raised far from it. Dean and Mary deciding to buy a home in the mountains outside of the headlines and prying eyes, a place where their kids could live a some what normal life.
Normal was anything but normal. Dean and Mary didn’t let children hold back their lives and desires of more fame. Leaving them with nannies so they could keep up with the demands of working and living their best lives.
Ojai, a small village-like town nestled in the valley of the Topanga Mountains, became a literal playground for Dieter growing up.
Little reminders of his childhood still remain as he ventures further into town. He finds himself slowing the car a bit as he takes it all in, rolling the window down to let the evening air hit his face— it’s crisp as it trickles across his skin.
The private school he attended all through his schooling years sits on top of a hill that over looks the valley. The school’s reputation was highly regarded and offered a plethora of academic courses and electives. Dieter found the art and theater programs to be where he excelled most, painting and acting fueled his passion for the arts, propelling him into pursuing one as a full time career.
He spots Bart’s Books as he drives on, an outdoor bookstore, that had become a daily hangout as a kid. The red wooden shelves still filled with adventures and history to get lost in. He discovered his love for storytelling sitting on the covered patio, nose deep in fictional worlds he dreamed of visiting.
Across the way, a ‘no vacancy’ neon sign flickers on. Capri Hotel, a newly renovated hotel that still looks like it could have come straight from the 1960s with its mid-century design and modern style. He recalls the summer when him and his buddies regularly jumped the fence to swim in the pool, the cool water under the stars was refreshing during the California heat waves. They managed to only get caught once but worked out a barter with the then owners, they clean the pool and in turn can use the pool at their leisure. The hotel seems to be under new ownership now, but it seems to be doing well.
On every corner there’s an art gallery. Some still looking as if no time had passed, others adorn new names and a fresh coat of paint. Several galleries offered summer painting classes, where Dieter found he had more creative freedom than in school to explore all mediums and really honing in on his style. He’s always imagined he’d have his own showing of his paintings, friends and family gathering to see his work— a dream he never lived out.
His car parked and engine killed, he still hasn’t found the courage to get out. He can see a few lights on from the front windows of his sister’s quaint Spanish style home. Trying to not let the vague memories of his last visit deter him from going inside. He sends Vanessa a text, letting her know he’d made it safely and that he’d text her if he needed anything.
Bags in tow, he makes his way to the front door. Nerves and emotions swirling around, reminding himself to breathe, letting go of the fear and expectations he’d had for this reunion.
He opts for knocking, assuming Wren would be sleeping at this hour.
The clicking of locks being turned, twisting of the door knob, the black wooden door swings open to the space that’s haunted him for the last year.
“Hey, Diem. Sorry I’m so—“ He starts to explain his lateness before he’s cut off.
“Dieter! Oh my god! I thought something happened to you! What the fuck?!” Her body launches at him, arms wrapping around him securely. He accepts the impromptu hug, dropping his bags to return the gesture.
“No, no I’m good. Traffic was a nightmare and by the time I thought to call, service was fucked. Sorry for making you worry.”
“You’re here and you’re safe— that’s all that matters.”
This greeting is going far better than he had expected, but he hasn’t made over the threshold, still plenty of time for Diem to drop the hammer on him.
“Come in! Let’s get you all settled in.” She ushers him in, closing the door and adjusting the locks again.
He takes the space in, noting not much has changed from what he can tell in the diffused lighting, but he feels warm and welcoming even for him.
“I got the spare room all cleaned and ready for you. New sheets on the bed and a few extra pillows just in case.” She seems skittish moving about the living room, picking up the few toys laying around the room and placing them back in their designated baskets. “If you want to sit, make yourself comfortable. You want anything to drink? Eat?”
She seems just as nervous as he is and that makes him feel less anxious for some reason.
“I grabbed some food on the way, I’m good.” Setting his bags down, he makes his way to the couch and sits down, deciding to rip the bandage off so to speak.
Diem taking his lead, sits on the opposite end of the couch, legs tucked under her and hands resting on her lap. A lull hangs over them for a few moments, neither really know what to say or do. He notices her fingers fidgeting and decides to break the silence.
“I know we haven’t talked much since the last time I was here,” He sees the brief wince on her face at the mention of it, as if she’d been actively trying to avoid talking about it. “But I want to tell you how sorry I am for—“
“Dieter, you don’t have to.”
“No, actually I do. And I’m going to. Not only because it’s part of my steps in recovery, but because you deserve it— Wren deserves it.”
“She doesn’t know— about the drugs or you going to rehab.” She doesn’t look at him as she says it.
“I won’t mention it to her then.”
“I just told her you were busy and that you’d be coming to spend time with us 'cause you missed her.”
“Why did you agree? After all the shit I’ve done and put you through, why are you letting me stay here?”
That gets her attention, her eyes glossy with unshed tears as she looks at him with nothing but love and forgiveness. “Because you’re my brother and I want you here, despite all the shit you put me through.”
He shifts closer to where she’s sitting, wiping the few tears that had decided to fall. He doesn’t think he deserves her kindness, but is grateful he has this opportunity to do what he’s been wanting to do.
“I’m sorry for the pain and hurt that I caused you. Not only at Wren’s party, but all the other times I’d said I was clean and wasn’t. For putting you both second to my addiction. I’m sorry for not being here when you needed me most. I promise I’m going to do my best to earn your trust and prove to you that I am committed to my sobriety.”
Leaning back, his hand digs into his pocket pulling out his proof, grabbing Diem’s hand and turns it over placing the chip in her palm. She looks at it then back at him, the most genuine smile graces her face before she wraps her arms around his shoulders and pulls him in for a hug.
“I love you Dieter! Thank you for not only doing this for us, but for yourself as well. I’m really proud of you.”
“I love you too Diem.”
Releasing Dieter from the hug, she adjusts herself back to her previous position, now more relaxed with her elbow resting on the back of the couch propping her head up as she looks at Dieter, really taking in how healthy he looks since she’d last seen him.
“Thank you for also letting me stay here. I needed to get out of the city for a bit, clear my head and shit. Should only be a few months or less, until I can get a few things lined up— have a few potential projects I requested scripts for.”
The thought of returning to his old ways terrified him, he had all the tools and support to continue working on himself outside of treatment, but he didn’t want to chance it. He instantly knew exactly where he wanted to spend the next few months re-acclimating back into this new way of living, away from temptation. Knowing their last conversation was anything but great, he'd decided an e-mail felt less grievous and hoped she’d find it in her heart to accept him back in her home again.
“Of course. Stay as long as you need to.”
“And I can help how ever you need me to, figured it would keep me busy doing stuff, help out with Wren.”
“Oh my gosh, please! It’s peak tourist season the next few weeks at the Hotel and I’ve got a handful of events we’re hosting too. School runs would be a big help for me.”
“Hotel?” He’s sure he heard her right but doesn’t remember any mention of a hotel that he can recall.
“Funny story actually-- I bought the Capri last year. Did some renovations and it’s been great really. Keeps me busy most of the time, but I love it.”
Diem was never one for the spotlight, especially with movie star family members, actively avoiding anything to do with Hollywood and its ostentatious air. She always had a knack for making drab things look enticing, so Dieter isn’t surprised one bit by the mention of her being the new owner of the Capri Hotel.
“And now that I’m the owner, you can swim for free— pool cleaning is encouraged too.” He laughs at that.
“Congrats on owning a hotel I guess. I’ll definitely be taking advantage of swimming privileges then.”
“Alright. I’m going to head to bed, got an early morning dropping Wren off before I meet with the planner for our next event.”
“I can take her tomorrow.”
“You sure? You don’t want to settle in a bit first?”
“Nah, it’ll be nice spending some time with her.”
“Okay. Prepare yourself for a wild time then.”
She kisses the top of his head before heading in the direction of her room. Stopping before turning down the hall, she looks back at Dieter who hasn’t moved from the couch, one of his hands rubbing at the opposite shoulder and leaning his head to the side to stretch it out a bit— the longer car rides really doing a number on him.
“Dieter—“
His head turns towards the direction of his name being called.
"Hmm?"
“I’m really glad you’re here.”
“Yeah, me too.”
Next
#dieter bravo x f!reader#dieter bravo x you#dieter bravo x female reader#dieter bravo x reader#dieter bravo#sweet creature series#Pedro pascal#wildemaven writes
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Taking a break from being sad - Dieter would 100% insist on wearing these if he’s ever cast in a western 🤠
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a dieter bravo x nonbinary!reader-insert!oc series
This is it: your big break. Your first real role as a serious actor. It's a huge deal, a limited drama series produced by a major television and streaming network; it's slated to shoot you directly to stardom. All you have to do is not mess this up. Enter Dieter Bravo: your character's father, but your celebrity crush. Not messing this up just got considerably harder.
this reader insert character is: unnamed, afab and nonbinary (has female anatomy and uses they/them pronouns), neurodivergent, latinx, 21 years old, an actor playing a female character. I’m trying to keep them a physically blank slate but it is mentioned that they have longer hair (past shoulder-length) for the role and they wear a bikini for the role at one point as well. They are mentioned to be shorter than Dieter.
each chapter has its own rating and warnings. overall series rating is MA for eventual explicit content.
chapter one: this is what it looks like, right before you fall
You meet the cast and vow yourself to professionalism as filming starts, but one particular costar tests your willpower.
chapter two: haven’t seen the sun in a while but i heard that the sky's still blue
It's almost midnight, and there's bumping and groaning sounds coming from the hallway. You should probably investigate, right?
chapter three: why i gotta build something beautiful, just to go set it on fire?
Emotions have been running high lately, and it all comes to a head on set during a particularly tense scene.
chapter four: and that’s the problem with a closed door
No one really knows how to handle what happened on set last week, least of all you and Dieter. You each go about it in your own separate ways.
chapter five: if life is but a dream, then so are we
The end of shooting is quickly approaching, and you have a lot to sort out before picture wrap.
chapter six: i always shine, even when the light dim
Press interviews and red carpet events have your entire life turned upside down--but in a good way.
header and title: @beskarandblasters ; dividers: @saradika-graphics
follow @freelancearsonist-updates and turn on post notifications to be notified when new chapters are posted!
#dieter bravo#dieter bravo x reader#dieter bravo fanfiction#dieter bravo smut#the bubble#the bubble fanfiction#dieter bravo fic#the bubble fic#dieter bravo fanfic#pedro pascal fanfiction#pedro pascal characters#reader insert oc#nonbinary reader#series: free falling love addict
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Working Title | Chapter 21: The End
Pairing: Dieter Bravo x OFC Belle
Series Rating: Mature, 18+
Word Count: 4.3k
Series Masterlist | AO3 Chapter 21
Chapter Summary: We conclude our story.
Chapter Warnings: Angst and fluff. This one is pretty tame.
A/N: And just like that, we've reached the final chapter of this story. I'll share more at the end but I just have to say thank you. Thank you for being here and reading along. Dieter and Belle have been with me for the last seven months. When I started, I didn't think I'd write a 21-chapter fic topping nearly 120k words as my first foray into fanfic writing but here we are. I always had a version of this ending planned but actually getting to this point was harder than I thought.
Because of the secrecy surrounding the movie and its casting, you had to surrender your phones at the front desk when you arrived. That was almost three hours ago, three hours where you’ve been effectively off the grid, ushered around to meet with various departments in person and via Zoom.
Meet and greet after meet and greet, trying to retain the names of people who probably quickly forgot yours. Despite feeling like all eyes were scrutinizing your every move, it felt like things were going well. Talking about your craft was where you shined and it was a very welcome distraction. Everyone seemed impressed with your portfolio, several acknowledging the fact that Meredith had nothing but glowing things to say about you and your work.
You hadn’t seen or heard from Indy since she got whisked away for her rounds of screen tests and meetings. Rhys popped into the waiting room to tell you Indy was moving over to costuming for a fitting, which you took as a very positive sign that things were going well for her. Unfortunately, you were still unable to get your phone back. You sat with your fingernails digging into the meat of your thigh to try and stop your leg from bouncing while your mind drifted to Dieter. By this point in the day, he had probably woken up with Liz filling him in on the welcome you received at the airport and the subsequent online chatter.
“Oh hey,” you heard a familiar voice, but couldn’t place it. When you looked up you saw Rob, the photographer from Dieter’s photoshoot who gave you the ick.
“Oh hey,” you responded with a tight smile, reaching for the nearest magazine.
“You’re making quite the splash online,” he waggled his eyebrows, sitting down with his arm resting behind you on the couch.
“Can’t see. Don’t have my phone.” Your lips twitched as you shifted to move away from him.
“Ah…right. Made you lock it up?” He cocked his head to the side as you nodded. “Well, nothing bad. I mean…people are kinda being assholes but you know…it’s the internet.”
“Ha yeah.” You swallowed hard, trying to figure out an excuse to get up and leave.
“Talked with Dee? He must be a mess.”
You furrowed your brows, “why’d you say that?”
“Dee gets really protective about people he ah…cares for…” he gave you a quick up and down. “Must be tearing him up to see people talking shit about you. He doesn’t really do well with that kinda stuff.”
“What do you mean?” You tried to steady your breathing as your heart pounded.
“Well, it’s the reason he doesn’t really “do” relationships…things always end up getting messy with someone like Dee.”
This smarmy asshole was really starting to test your nerves, especially since he was supposed to be a “friend” of Dieter's. Fed up with his innuendos you looked him squarely in the eyes. “If you have something to say, say it.”
He chuckled a bit, seemingly amused by your sudden protective streak. “Look you seem like a nice girl…but Dieter’s past…it may be too mu-”
“Hey!” Rhys stepped in, cutting Rob off and regarding him with a disgusted look. “B, Indy’s all done you can come with me.”
Rhys hadn’t even gotten it all out before you bolted up from the couch, grabbed your bag, and scurried over to him. He wrapped his arm around your shoulder, leading you out while looking back at Rob.
“Sorry about that…that guy’s a real piece of work.” He squeezed your shoulder. “You doin’ ok hon?”
You took a deep breath and wrapped your arm around his waist as you both walked. “I’m ok, this has all been a lot,” you laughed nervously.
“I know. You’re handling it great, sweetheart, he’ll be so proud of you.” He looked down and smiled as he led you into another room.
“You heard from Belle?” Meredith asked as she touched up Dieter’s spiky but soft curls between takes. “Dee?”
Dieter was spaced out, the lack of sleep catching up to him. “Hmm? Oh, ah no. Not yet. But they should be wrapping up, their flight leaves soon,” he checked his phone.
“Well, I’m sure things are going well. If you haven’t heard from them it means they’re still in meetings and didn’t get turned away huh?” She squeezed his shoulder which brought the smallest glimmer of a smile to his tired face. “I like seeing you smile Dee, it’s a good look on you. And you’ve been doing it a lot more on this shoot,” she smoothed the sleeve of his white dress shirt. “You two are just what the other needs.”
Dieter gave a lopsided grin, taking a deep breath to center himself for the next take.
Indy practically tackled you when you walked into her holding room, throwing her arms around you and squeezing you tight. “We got it, B! We did it!”
To say you felt proud would be severely underselling it. All of those nights Indy cried on your shoulder when she didn’t get a part or wasn’t able to cover rent, it all brought you both to this moment. It hadn't quite hit you that you were also getting a tremendous opportunity as well.
“I’m so proud of my girls,” Rhys came over, enveloping you both in a bear hug. Even he was getting misty-eyed seeing your reactions. “Look all of this took a bit longer than planned…which is a good thing, don’t get me wrong! So, we’re gonna have to rush to get back to the airport ok? On the way, though I need you both to focus, we have to make some arrangements to get things in motion before we get on the plane.”
“I cannot wait to tell everyone!” Indy squeaked.
“Ah...look, you can’t say anything yet, ok? The studio is going to announce it in a few hours, so by the time we land you can go crazy and tell everyone but for right now, please don’t say anything?” He looked between you both as you reluctantly nodded in agreement.
“Can we get our phones back?” You asked as Indy rushed to collect her things.
“Yup…yeah, they have them, we’ll grab them. C’mon, we have to go! We’re going to be cutting it close.” Rhys ushered you both quickly out of the room and down the hall.
“Ok and cut! We’ll wrap for lunch. Good work everybody.”
The director barely had the words out before Dieter made a beeline to his trailer, frustrated by his performance. Being in front of the camera, getting to portray a different person, was normally so freeing for him; it gave him a chance to escape his world and tuck into an alternate reality. But this morning, he didn’t want to be another person. He wanted another person. And not hearing from Belle was starting to take its toll on his nerves and it was spilling over into his work. He'd forgotten lines and just couldn't convey his character like he wanted…too much of Dieter was bleeding through the performance.
“Hey Dee, wait up man!” Sam jogged after him, unbuckling the tac vest he donned in the last scene.
Dieter slowed down slightly, looking over his shoulder as Sam caught up to him. “You haven’t heard anything have you?” He motioned down to Sam’s phone with his chin.
“Nah, nothing. But…that’s a good sign though right? I mean…that they’re still in meetings or whatever?”
“Yeah,” the corner of Dieter’s mouth curled up as he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket, but his face dropped when he saw it was Liz. “Hey, Lizzie.”
“Dee, hey. Rhys just texted and said they’re headed back to the airport. Are you around anyone right now?”
“Uh um...” he cleared his throat, “yeah.”
“Ok, well don’t react, but…between us, they got it.”
Dieter stopped in his tracks, feeling his chest contract. “Oh…ah…ok,” he swallowed despite feeling like his throat was suddenly full of cotton balls. “I mean. Good, that’s good. I should probably try and call …um…her…then,” he tried to avoid Sam’s hopeful eyes.
“She probably won’t answer. They’re all on a conference call in the car sorting things out with people there and in Toronto. I know you’ll hear from her though. Give her a moment to process. It’s a big deal for both of them.”
“Yeah ok. I’ll um… I’ll talk to you later Liz. Thanks for the call.” He hung up and walked to his trailer, not bothering to look back at Sam.
Sam hesitated for a moment but decided to jog after Dieter, stopping him just as he got to his trailer. “Is everything ok? Did they not get it?” Sam’s piercing blue eyes searched Dieter’s face.
“You know I can’t tell you,” he shook his head. “We'll find out soon though.” And with that, he walked up the steps and slammed his trailer door shut.
In the confines of his trailer, Dieter let out a shaky breath. Things were starting to get more real now and the girls’ departure was imminent. He knew there were still a ton of details to sort out, especially on a production on the scale of the one they booked. It was a task to try and silence his thoughts and not get ahead of things, but a little voice poked through questioning the radio silence from Belle. He figured she’d at least send him some type of text, even if it was cryptic.
Walking over to the sink, his mind raced through a bunch of scenarios for why she did or didn’t reach out to him yet. He splashed some water on his face, the droplets falling into the sink as he braced himself with both hands and looked at himself in the tiny mirror.
We doing this Bravo?
What lay ahead was not going to be easy — long distance and time zones until he was able to get out to Toronto. And then what? Was renting a house too much? Too bold? Too clingy? He’d always been told he did too much, loved too hard, and it never worked out for him in the end. That little voice was telling him to stop while he was ahead, avoid the inevitable heartbreak. He always did this, retreating or finding a way to silence his feelings.
But in this case, a life where he goes back to LA alone felt empty, unfulfilled. This decision was solidified weeks ago and he didn’t even realize it. He was fully onboard and it wasn’t until she was gone that he realized how much of an impact she’d made. Waking up without her, smelling her shampoo on the pillow, seeing her empty station as Meredith got him ready – she was always there and would continue to be.
He heard his phone buzzing, sighing when he saw Liz’s name on the screen instead of the one he yearned for.
“What?”
“Hello sunshine,” she responded flatly. “Listen, that house you sent over. They want an offer today otherwise it’s going back on the market. What do you want to do?”
Dieter took a deep breath and looked at himself in the mirror.
The drive to the airport was full of phone calls as Rhys sorted out the logistics for getting Indy wrapped up on the show and off to Toronto. You called Meredith and confidentially filled her in on the news so you two could start to plan the transition. Before you knew it, the SUV pulled up to departures.
Once through security, you had to make a mad dash to the plane, still talking to Meredith and now Brianna. During the call, you glanced at your phone to see if you’d gotten a text or call from Dieter. The longer you’d gone without hearing from him the more the anxiety churned in your stomach wondering if he’d heard the news and how he had taken it.
As you boarded the plane, you hung up with Meredith and tried unsuccessfully to call Dieter. It went to voicemail twice. Sighing you sat in your seat, head in your hands as you took a deep breath.
“Hey,” Indy put her arm around your shoulder. “Wanna talk about it?”
You shook your head, composing yourself before peeking over to her, “I haven’t heard from Dieter.”
Indy’s mouth twitched and she looked down, a telltale sign that she had something to say but was trying to figure out how best to address it.
“What is it? Spit it out.” Your voice barely a whisper.
“It’s just…Sam said that when they wrapped for lunch Dieter got a call and then stormed off to his trailer. No one has been able to talk to him since,” she looked across the row at Rhys who was juggling his phone, laptop, and tablet. “Hey, you know anything about Dieter? I'm assuming Liz is in the loop?”
“Hmm?” Rhys tucked the laptop into the seat back in front of him. “Oh ah…yeah Liz knows, I told her because she’s been lighting my ass up about an update. She said Dieter was losing his mind wanting to know. Apparently, he's been a pretty grumpy asshole on set today.”
You weren’t quite sure how to read Rhys’ tone and you feared the worst.
“Try him again,” Indy nudged your shoulder. “Quick before they yell at us to put our phones away.”
The flight attendants made an announcement but you tried again, getting his voicemail one more time. Frustrated, you decided to fire off a text before turning your phone to airplane mode. You leaned your head against Indy’s shoulder as you both sat quietly for a moment. She eventually reached for her backpack, pulling out her wireless earbuds and handing you one.
You laughed and she furrowed her eyebrows. “Sorry, it’s just that Dee hates these wireless ones. Ugh…” you shook your head. “He’s everywhere. What if we get there and he decides this isn’t worth it anymore? Like let's stop before this gets more serious.” The tears that had been teetering on the brink finally started falling down your cheeks as the stress of the day manifested itself.
“I still have a good feeling…you’ll see,” she hugged you as you softly cried into her shoulder. “Shh… it’s ok. Hey. Wanna watch a movie? I have Jurassic Park on my iPad.” She waggled her eyebrows.
That mention drove you to even more tears, remembering the perfect date Dieter organized for you. It made you miss him even more, craving for another moment to comb your fingers through his curls, to scratch the stubble on his cheeks, to feel his lips on your neck, and his weight on top of you. It was going to be a long flight, but you tried to stay positive.
“Psst, hey, time to wake up,” Indy cooed, rubbing your arm.
Your eyes fluttered open as you tried to place where you were. “How long was I asleep?”
“You zonked out after the chaos theory speech,” she smirked.
“Damn,” you sat up and stretched.
“We should be landing soon, I filled out your ag declaration form by the way.”
“Thanks. Did you sleep?”
“A little, I’m honestly on a bit of a high, it’s been hard to calm down,” she softly chuckled.
“I’m so fucking excited for you. You’re going to kick ass.”
“You know what the best part is? You’re going with me…we get to do this together,” she patted your knee as a flight attendant made one last pass through the cabin.
“Well, he’s out cold isn’t he,” you nodded towards Rhys who was fast asleep with his mouth open.
Indy giggled, “You should have heard him snoring.”
On the descent, you chatted about random things, clear that Indy was trying to keep your spirits up. You reached down to your bag and grabbed your phone, itching for the moment you could turn it back on, hoping you had enough battery left.
“You think we’re going to have people waiting for us at the airport?” You raised your eyebrows.
“Nah, people here are so chill,” Indy chuckled. “Nice thing about the small airport, we’ll be out and to the car in like five minutes…I cannot wait to sleep in my comfy bed tonight. These airplane seats are the worst.”
“Tell me about it,” you rubbed your neck. “You ah…going to be sleeping alone tonight,” you smirked.
“Not if I can help it,” she winked as you both burst into quiet giggles.
You glanced down at your phone, curious what would be waiting for you when you turned it on.
“Hey, it’s going to be ok,” she smiled.
Within a few moments, you saw the island quickly come into view, with the wheels touching down shortly after. You switched on your phone, tapping your fingertips along your thigh as you waited for it to connect to the network.
Notifications started coming through and you held your breath. Texts from Meredith, Brianna, Ari…even Sam came in as the news about Indy’s casting finally hit.
Sam: Hey Doll. Heard the news, congratulations! I’m so happy for you
You smiled at his text, looking over at Indy who was grinning ear to ear with her face buried in her phone.
Once the flurry of notifications calmed down, you sifted through things, clearing out the unimportant stuff. There was one name you hadn’t seen yet. You swallowed hard, trying to nudge that lump in your throat further down to no avail. The little voice you’d pushed into the recesses of your mind was bolder now, telling you that Dieter decided this was all too much. It was inevitable, all too good to be true.
A smaller airport meant less time taxing to your gate and before long you were walking off the plane, carry-on in hand and a phone buzzing with notifications you didn’t want to see. You couldn’t bring yourself to open up your text thread with him, afraid that seeing your message marked as read with no response would push you to your breaking point.
As you walked out of the sliding doors to arrivals you heard Indy gasp. You looked up and stopped in your tracks with a stunned silence. Dieter was standing tall among the crowd, eyes searching wildly at everyone passing by. He didn’t see you which gave you a second to take him in. A slate gray T-shirt stretched taut across his broad shoulders. His eyes looked tired behind his black-rimmed glasses as he ran a hand through his wild curls before rubbing the back of his neck.
A break in the crowd revealed the rest of him – a smart pair of white shorts with striped crew socks paired with sneakers completed his outfit. But what made the air leave your lungs was the beautiful bouquet he nervously passed between his hands. You’d recognize this arrangement from anywhere - it was the same assortment he had delivered to the makeup trailer when production first started: Birds of Paradise, anthurium, hibiscus, and gardenias.
The butterflies in your stomach felt like they were going to explode out of your body. Suddenly, the stress and anxiety of the last day were gone. Time stopped, everything was still and you couldn’t hear or see anything else but Dieter. Finally, he noticed you, his eyes crinkling as he sported the biggest smile. You could practically see the stress and worry melt away from him.
You didn’t run to him like the long-lost lovers do in the movies, but you certainly walked briskly. He did the same, dodging the wayward oblivious tourists in his path. Soon you felt his strong arms wrap you in a warm embrace and you finally exhaled, like really exhaled, relaxing as you nuzzled into him. Ear pressed to his chest you could feel his heart racing so you squeezed him tight, letting him know it was ok.
You pulled back and looked at his puppy dog eyes, which looked equal parts nervous, scared, and relieved. “Hey.”
“Hey, I…I…these are for you,” he offered the flowers.
“They’re beautiful Dieter. Thank you,” you closed your eyes, savoring the delicious floral aroma of the arrangement.
Your eyes fluttered open to see Dieter studying your face like he was trying to commit you to memory, which made your stomach drop a bit.
“I hadn’t heard from you…I…did you hear the news?” Your voice was shaky, nervous that it had all come to this. He nodded, rubbing up and down your arm. “All of it?”
He smiled, “Yeah, all of it. I…I hadn’t heard from you, and I…” he rubbed the back of his neck, shaking his head. “Fuck, I…can I kiss you?”
Rather than respond with words, you pushed up onto the balls of your feet, cupping the back of his head and pressing your lips to his. He brought a hand to your waist and gripped you tightly, pulling you flush against his body. A slight moan escaped as he deepened the kiss.
You pulled away to catch your breath, feeling him smile against your forehead. “When you didn't respond to my text, I…”
“Wait, what?” He scrunched his face. “You didn’t text me. I…I just have the missed calls, which I’m sorry I missed I…” he looked down as you grabbed your phone from your back pocket and unlocked it. “What?”
“It…it never sent, look,” you turned the screen around to show an undelivered message in your text thread, something you would have seen had you looked.
He shook his head, chuckling. “I thought you …”
“Shh…hey,” you smiled, feeling the scratch of his stubble against the pad of your thumb. “You're here now, that's all that matters.”
“I could say the same thing,” he brought you in for another hug. “This last day has sucked without you,” he murmured against your hairline.
“It really has…I missed you.”
“You don’t even know the half of it, baby.” His large hands cupped your face, his thumbs moving back and forth on your cheeks. “I um…I got you something,” he reached into his pocket and your breath caught in your throat as he gave you a little black box.
“W-what? I…” you swallowed hard, confused at the item in his hand.
“If I had more time, I was planning on doing this differently but uh,” he motioned down to the box in your shaky palm. “Open it.”
You swallowed, your heart pounding so hard in your ears you could barely think. As you flipped the lid open you let out a laugh. “What is this?” You pulled out a small piece of paper. As you unfolded it you saw it was a drawing of a key.
“I’m renting a house in Toronto for the next few months and…I ah, I wondered if you may want to stay with me? I just signed the papers a couple of hours ago so I obviously don’t have a key to give you, hell I don’t have a key for myself yet,” he chuckled. “So I…um…I drew this, figured if I couldn’t give you the real thing yet this may be a good substitute,” his face scrunched as he wiped a tear from your cheek. “Are you ok?”
You nodded, placing your hand on top of his and kissing his palm. “Yeah...I never thought I’d cry at a drawing of a key but here we are.”
He swallowed hard, bringing his forehead to yours, rubbing the back of your neck. “Is…is that a yes?”
You nodded, pushing yourself back so you could look him in the eyes. “It’s a fuck yes,” you smirked. Giddy, he wrapped his arms around you, squeezing you so tight. “Wait…how’d you just rent a house with like hours' notice?”
His demeanor shifted a bit, the swagger of the Dieter Bravo shining through as he looked at you, still caressing your cheek. “Well, I’ve been kinda looking around at places, and then today when Liz told me the news. I knew I needed to make a decision. And that decision is you. Us. I can’t be away from you….I don’t want to be away from you and I don’t have to be.”
“I … I can’t believe you did that,” you kissed him, parting your lips and feeling his tongue against yours. It was intoxicating.
“Believe it,” he smiled against your lips. “I’d do anything…everything for you. Always.”
“Ooookay love birds. TSA is gonna kick us out here soon. We’re starting to draw a crowd,” Indy whispered.
You buried your head in Dieter’s chest as you all laughed.
“So, I’ll leave you two then, see you back at the resort,” Indy started to back away with a smirk.
“Actually wait,” Dieter stopped her. “Um…can I ride back with you guys? I…uh…kinda don’t have a ride,” he ruffled his hair.
“How’d you get here?”
“I had Danny drop me off. Can’t draw and drive at the same time…”
You cut him off and kissed him again as Indy giggled at the sight of you two so in love. Eventually, you pulled back and looked at Dieter with a twinkle in your eyes. “C’mon let’s go. We have a movie to watch.”
With a lopsided grin, he grabbed your carry-on and threaded his fingers through your hand as you followed Indy and Rhys to the waiting SUV. He pressed a kiss to the top of your head and before you reached the car he leaned down and whispered in your ear, “Just so you know, I want to do a lot more than just watch a movie.”
The End.
A/N: Hi, me again. I have a lot of emotions as I post this final chapter. Whether you've been here since the beginning (and dealt with my inconsistent posting in real-time, sorry about that!) or you just found this story and made it through, thank you. Every comment, reblog, like, ask, or DM has truly meant more than you know. I have learned so much over the last seven months writing this and I met so many amazing people I've grown to call friends. 💕
This ending is intentionally left a bit open and it isn't the last you'll see of these two. I'm not exactly sure yet how they'll come back (whether it's through one shots, drabbles, or a *much shorter* series), but this isn't a goodbye forever. I'm planning on doing a behind-the-scenes type post soon to talk through some of the references in the story, show off some of my own Hawaii photos, and talk through plot points from my original outline that never made it in. But until then, thanks for being here and helping me send these two off into the Hawaiian sunset.
Tag list: @musings-of-a-rose / @legendary-pink-dot / @bitchwitch1981 / @mysterious-moonstruck-musings / @gracie7209 / @amneris21 / @pastelnap / @maryfanson / @sunnywithachanceofjavi / @sin-djarin / @winchestergypsy90 / @for-a-longlongtime /@harriedandharassed / @titlee78 / @midnightraain / @poodlebae / @partyofone3413 / @guelyury / @weho2kcmo / @missladym1981 / @soapjay / @darkheartgatita
#dieter bravo#dieter bravo fanfic#dieter bravo x ofc#pedro pascal character fanfic#completed fic#dieter bravo fic#thank you to everyone who has supported me throughout this#jess' first series complete
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A Dieter Bravo x f!reader x f!oc series
Summary: After a bad breakup, your best friend Eva offers to take you on vacation in the hopes of cheering you up. The problem? You’ve been in love with Eva since you could remember, and she’s bringing her new husband Dieter Bravo with her.
Chapter 1 - Super Graphic Ultra Modern Girl
Chapter 2 - Soda Dreamer (coming soon)
Chapter 3 - Tequila
Chapter 4 - After Midnight
Chapter 5 - Victorious Cupid
Pinterest board
*images in moodboard & Pinterest board represent Dieter and oc Eva
Find my main masterlist here
#series masterlist#series: cherry#wip: cherry#dieter bravo x reader#dieter bravo x oc#poly relationship#not me actually trying to have a posting schedule
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The Booth (and All its Misuses)
Pairing: Dieter Bravo x F!Reader Editor "Murch"
Summary: Dieter is pushing boundaries with the roles he takes. And with you.
Word Count: 4.4k
Warnings: Explicit, 18+ MINORS DNI, descriptions of male and female bodies, heavy fantasizing including oral sex (m and f receiving) and allusions to PiV sex, exhibitionism, dirty talk like whoa, male masturbation, allusions to female masturbation, Dieter's voice is a weapon.
Notes: That fucking cat show waltzed on in here and made me imagine Dieter recording those ridiculous lines and here we are. It's such a role for him I couldn't resist. This Dieter and Murch are from my series Best Laid Plans, and this story takes place before the events of The Plan. I also have to thank @boliv-jenta for being part of the inspiration for this fic with her hilarious Claude story that I've been giggling over for a couple days now.
Cross-posted on AO3
Best Laid Plans Series Masterlist
“What stupid thing did you sign me up for?”
Dieter’s agent blows a sigh into the phone that makes him wince. He’s still a little hungover despite the IV service he ordered this morning, the grease-laden breakfast sandwich, and the lazy handjob he gave himself in the shower. He thought today was a light day, maybe a press junket in the afternoon he could roll into once the edges of his vision cleared. But instead he’s ushered into a Mercedes and finds himself on the way to a studio to record…
“The voice of a bald horny street cat?” he asks, flipping through the short script.
“It sounded up your alley…cat,” she quips back, and despite the low ache in the base of his skull he has to admit he enjoys the over-the-top dialogue. A little slutty, artistic, dramatic? Yeah, his agent’s got him pegged well.
His thoughts drift for a moment at the suggestive wording. He should really call Mitsy for another night in.
By the time he exits the car his head has cleared a little, aided by the coffee he whined to pick up and a few more minutes of shuteye. It looks like it’ll be a quick read, only a few pages of dialogue. He sweeps in, heavy brown cardigan flapping behind as he greets the audio tech and director. Their handshakes are straightforward, professional. The tech settles him in the sound booth, testing levels and microphones as the director walks Dieter through the scenes. It’s exactly how it sounds; a lascivious street cat wooing a plump pink hairless counterpart. He’s scrungly but smooth, devilish but dashing. Dieter raises an eyebrow at some of this - are people supposed to be horny for the cats? - but makes no comment.
The read is pretty fun for a one-off job. He leans into the ridiculousness to the director’s delight, and ad libs a few responses. The “follicle divergent” line was a favorite addition. He even turns on the bedroom voice for a few takes. If some classic Dieter filth gets him on their good side, maybe he’ll score something less ridiculous next time. Connections, connections, connections as his agent always says.
As he finishes up the final page, a door opens on the other side of the glass. His eyes flick up briefly before the words slog to a stop in his mouth.
What are you doing here?
“Problem, Dieter?” the tech asks through Dieter’s headset. It sounds further away than before, like a string between two tin cans instead of Sennheisers. You lean over to address the director, his quick nod dismissing you to sit on a chair in a darkened corner. Dieter swallows hard, shaking off the stumble.
“How do you want me to pronounce ‘gordita’? Throw more accent on it?” he asks, directing their attention away enough to sneak a look at you. Your phone screen illuminates your face, harsh blue light carving your pretty features into something sharp and focused.
He wants you to look up so he can give you a little nonchalant wave, like it’s no big deal the cute girl who keeps showing up on his movie set and making him laugh is here when he’s reading for a syphilitic cartoon cat. He tries to think up a good line to shoot you when he exits the booth - so this is where you hang out when you’re not on my set, Murch? - but even that falls flat in his head. Plus there’s something about calling you Murch in front of people who don’t know you that makes him cringe. You’ve got enough working against you in Hollywood, you don’t need him tossing out pet names that could lessen their respect for you. He respects the hell out of you in the first place; how hard you work, how everyone likes interacting with you, the trust people have in you to do your job well. Murch is just between the two of you, its own sign of respect.
He can admit to himself it’s also a sign of a little more than that. Only for him.
He throws himself into the last fifteen minutes of the recording, flourishing his vocals for peak laughs. He wishes you had some headphones on so he could make you roll your eyes or snicker with him, but you’re tapping on your phone up until the tech ends the recording. Dieter gathers himself and feigns casual energy as he exits the booth.
“Need any more takes? We’re running early on my schedule,” he says breezily, letting his gaze fall to you almost by mistake. “Oh, hey, didn’t see you come in. Elias doesn’t have you working today?” He offers a friendly smile, the most professional he’s even been with you.
“Running drives today,” you say simply, hovering next to the tech while he transfers the audio to a slim hard drive. “The DIT has my footage until 6, so I’m sneaking some extra hours in.”
Right, you’re still “working your way” in the business, putting in hard days for not enough pay and expected to be happy about it. He’s seen you with lunch orders on set, filling in for a PA or making calls in the home office when shoots are delayed. You’re happiest behind your computer, hands fast on the keyboard and eyes darting over a timeline as you help massage a masterpiece out of the mess. But you’re still working towards that being all you have to do to survive in Hollywood. Maybe after this film you’ll be able to breathe easier. Maybe he could win an Oscar for it and you could be an award-winning editor. It would be nice to win an Oscar for you.
Not for you. For himself. That would just be some icing on the cake, to give you a leg up in the industry where he can. That’s all.
“That’s all Dieter, you’re wrapped. Sean, take off, you can still make your kid’s game,” the director says, the tech smiling gratefully as he snatches up his bag. A little flash of an idea, born out of wandering thoughts and attraction and foolhardiness, crosses Dieter’s lips.
“Hey, could I use the booth for a little while longer? I’ve got some pickups I need to record for an audiobook and I forgot to book a space,” he asks, silently hoping this moment of assholery might work out. The tech sighs loudly, rubbing a hand over his face, before you chime in.
“I can wait around, I’ve seen Sean do this enough I can figure it out. And I’ll lock up as we leave,” you say, sunny expression lightening the dour mood. It only takes a moment of shuffling for the others to leave, Sean waving a thanks to you as the door swings shut.
Shit, he only planned this far, now what?
“Well you better hop back in, you’ve only got…17 minutes,” you say, settling into the swivel chair and pulling the huge headphones over your ears.
“Not even a, ‘hey Di, nice to see you, thank you for brightening up my day with your dramatic cat-acting’? …Cacting? Ooh, I like that,” he says, leaning in the door frame. You smirk and roll your eyes.
“Hi Di, it’s always a pleasure to see your shining face, and whatever you rolled out of bed into. That’s a comfy looking sweater,” you smirk back, redirecting your attention to the soundboard. “Now can you get in there and do your lines so I’m not late getting back?” you say.
“Yes ma’am, thanks again,” he says, shutting the door behind him. A little smile settles on his face that she liked his cardigan, actively dashing it off before he pulls over a chair to the microphone stand. He’s got a reputation to uphold, and getting gooey over a compliment isn’t part of his brand. Settling back into the seat, he pantomimes opening his phone and placing it on the stand in front of him.
There’s no script, it’s just a ploy, something to get you to stick around and talk to him more. He always enjoys the handful of minutes he gets with you on sets as you wait for dailies or a script revision to bring back to post-production. He wishes you were one of the actors sometimes, stranded on set while the crew reset or shuffled you around, leaving time to chat and open up. He wants to ask you what your favorite memories were, discuss a new art exhibit at length, pop a few edibles and get high enough that your minds could melt into each other, followed by your bodies. But you’re always moving, a skip in your gait like you’re worried about being a step behind. He dreads the day Hollywood tries to beat that drive out of you, make you step on something precious to get ahead. He wants to put his hands on your shoulders and tell you it’s okay to slow down, to walk instead of run, that you don’t deserve to fall into bed exhausted every day just to get up and do it all over again.
“Do you need me to keep an ear on your recording?” you say, hand hovering over the button as you look at Dieter through the glass. He twists a crooked smile onto his face, his improvisation skills helping him navigate the conversation.
“It’s an erotic audiobook, so I’ll leave that up to you Murch,” he says, winking. You roll your eyes again, hitting record before reaching to mute yourself. “Wait, before you do that, how’s your day been?” he asks, slouching into his chair with spread thighs. He likes to see if you’ll look, give him any hint that you may be as interested in him as he finds you.
“Not too bad, Di, living the dream,” you say, leaning forward on your elbows with a smile. “Post’s coming along good, you’re getting better at not spitting every time you shout at Alé.”
“They keep asking me to drink during that scene, it gets me all drooly!” he retorts, the tinny laugh coming through his headset warming his chest. He really likes the way your eyes scrunch up when he gets a good giggle out of you, that you’ll laugh with your whole body if he gets it right.
“Besides that, nothing special. You looking forward to the scenes you get to shoot in Rome?”
“Looking forward to being told I can’t have any pasta. What else are you supposed to eat in the city of love?” You laugh again, goosebumps tingling along Dieter’s neck at how intimate the sound is coming through his headphones.
“I’m pretty sure that’s Paris.”
“Tell me you’ve never fallen in love with a pasta alla vodka.”
“You eat all the things you love, Bravo?”
“Some of them,” he purrs, dropping his voice down an octave and tilting his head. You shake yours with an exasperated sigh, but he thinks he sees your eyelashes flutter. He’s about to elaborate - I do love pussy, and not just the weird cat I’ve been reading for - when the glow of your phone directs your eyes down.
“Shit, I’m blowing up,” you curse, scrolling quickly. “Are you good to go?”
Dieter nods his head, squaring up his chair and adjusting the microphone stand down to his level.
“I’ve got it Murch, you take care of business. Thanks for doing me a favor,” he says, trying not to let the disappointment bleed into his voice. You shoot him a tight smile before muting yourself, red light blinking in his view. You watch the screen for a moment before taking off your headphones and diving back into your phone, alternating typing and scrolling.
The silence of the room lays heavy on his shoulders, the warmth of your voice slowly fading. He feigns opening up something on his phone, a blank webpage all that actually stares back at him. Wetting his lips, he wonders what the hell to say to make it look like he’s not just dicking around in here.
“Hey Murch,” he finally settles on, keeping his eyes glued to his phone, now dark enough to reflect his face back at him, your blurry silhouette in the corner of his eye.
“It’s nice to see you today. You haven’t been on set in a bit. Things must be ramping up in your edit bay. They’re keeping you busy, that’s for sure. Or you��re keeping yourself busy. Because you know, you work really hard. I see it. Everyone does.” He clears his throat briefly, eyes snapping up to you. You flick your own up, a question on your face, but he just thumbs-ups you.
“What would you do if you got a break? What does the lovely Murch do on a day off?” he says, his throat catching a little on lovely. “I think you like a big breakfast, something with fruit in it. You like…mangos, right? I’m pretty sure you said that once. Or peaches.” The phantom flavors drift along his tongue. “And then I’d bet you’d want to do something outside, especially if it’s nice out. Get out of that dark basement. Wear something light and breezy.”
It occurs to Dieter he’s never seen you in anything more than jeans and a t-shirt. What would you look like with your shoulders bare, legs on display, breasts scooped into a flattering neckline and ass swishing along? Did you even like pretty summer dresses? God he hoped you did. You would look fucking delicious.
A tightening in his groin alerts Dieter to a path his brain probably shouldn’t go down, but it’s the Wizard of Oz in there and his libido is following the yellow brick road. He licks his lips at the thought of you turning to wait for him, a flirty hemline skimming along your thighs. If a little breeze kicked up the skirt would flutter just a little too high for your liking, making you smooth it back down. And he’d be helpless to stop from falling to his knees and ducking his head under it.
His cock is at full attention now, straining against his slacks. He tries to shake off this train of thought, redirect to something that will refocus him, but every time he glances up to take in your features, your attention elsewhere, only hardens him more.
“Fuck, you’d look good in something like that. You look good all the time.” Dieter’s hand clenches on his thigh, dangerously close to crossing a line. An irrelevant notification lights up his screen - ten more minutes of studio time. He squeezes his eyes shut, worrying at his lower lip with his teeth.
He shouldn’t. You’d be grossed out if he did, violated. Probably scream at him, call him a filthy little slut.
Fuck, his pesky degradation kink’s not helping.
“Shit, Murch, you got me hard in a fucking sound booth. I can’t even get this hard this fast watching porn. What the fuck have you done to me?” he husks out, running a hand over his face. His cock bobs in his pants, the mistake of even alluding to porn in the same breath as your name furthering his thoughts. Because now that he’s said it, all the little scenarios he lies to himself about jacking off to come to the forefront unbidden.
The way the slip of your tongue over your lower lip makes him want to follow it with the head of his cock, fat and weeping at your hot breath.
How your hands moving along a keyboard make him wonder how they’d look wrapped around his shaft, pulling him to the brink expertly before easing him back.
The fact that there’s a couch in that dark little room you work in that calls for him to fuck you on it over and over again.
You put down your phone right as he’s spiraling, imagining how you’d look spread on your back on that beat-up monstrosity as he hovers over you, and slip your headphones back on. He coughs once, hoping his face isn’t too red.
“You doing okay Di?” you ask, a note of concern coming through.
Busted.
He shifts in his chair, his erection thankfully hidden by his low seat and the little stand his phone rests on.
“Hah, yeah, just…getting through some of this dialogue.”
You smirk, chin in your hand.
“What, a little too spicy for THE Dieter Bravo?” you say, and have the audacity to pull the corner of your lip between your teeth.
Well never mind then. He was going to be the gentleman and suffer in silence. But if you were going to insist on egging him on when he was just imagining how sweet your cunt would taste, then he’s going to play a little dirty.
“You can be the judge of that,” he says airily, raising an eyebrow in challenge.
“I’ve read my fair share of romance novels. I don’t think you’ll surprise me.”
Oh, it’s really on now.
“Then listen in. Maybe you’ll learn something new.”
You settle back into your chair, motioning for Dieter to begin. He rolls his shoulders, putting both hands on the stand and pulling focus to his phone. His grayscale reflection is remarkably confident for how rippling his insides feel. Pulling from memories of early gigs that were a hair shy of softcore pornos and his own racing thoughts, he writes you a story.
“I fucking want you. Keep telling myself no but I fucking want you,” he growls, puffing hard out his nose. Your reaction is immediate; your eyes snap wide, mouth parting. He wants to look you in the eyes as he improvises a scene but doing that and trying to keep his composure above the waist is proving too much. His lips brush hard against the microphone, his whiskers scraping along the sensitive instrument.
“I’d make it so good for you, make you mine so many times you’d have to spend the night. Would you like that? For me to take care of you so fully, so completely, you wouldn’t be able to walk out after? Because I want you like that every. Single. Day. Let me make you feel so fucking good, baby.”
You’re trying to keep a neutral face but he can see it. The tremble of your lower lip. The rigidness of your posture. He would bet his summer house you were squeezing your thighs under the control table. God, he wants to be on the other side of the glass and saying these things in your ear, lips brushing against your skin. Filthier things too, like how he wants you to cum so hard it drips down your legs for him to lick up. That he’ll stretch you so good on his cock, make you drunk with pleasure every moment you let him.
“Because you deserve to feel like a goddess. You do so much for me, baby, let me give you even an ounce of that back to you. I’ll be so good for you, sweetheart, treat you better than that goddamn shithead of an ex that was never worth your time.”
Dieter’s running his mouth as close to the truth as he thinks he can get away with, sneaking glances up to see how you react. Your arms are folded in a picture of ease, but he can see how your fingers dig into your bicep. He drops his voice into a lower register, rumbling deep but with a gentle quality he enjoys utilizing for narration.
“He lets her ride his buttery slick thighs, buried so deep he can’t tell where her pleasure ends and his begins. He doesn’t care as long as she keeps throwing her head back like that and crying his name. If his heart gave out now he’d die happy with the musk of her on his lips and her velvet walls clenched around him. Even though she’s already cum twice he urges her into a third with his clever thumb and a grin when she shatters.” Dieter’s half impressed at himself for thinking on his feet, the words quickening the rise and fall of your chest. Your cunt must be on fire from this, he hopes he’s not the only one aching. You can’t be unaffected, not with the way you can’t look away, gaze tight on his face when he looks up. He’s got one more tiny idea that could get him in trouble, or make the tension thread between you finally snap. Leaning forward, he looks through his lashes at you. You’re holding your breath.
“Be a good girl for me, baby.”
Your reaction is instant. Blinking hard and flaring your nostrils, your grip gets even tighter. Your skin must be blazing hot, the heat between your thighs unbearable. He wants to soothe it with his tongue, quench it with his fingers as you fist his hair and tell him how good he’s making you feel. His cock is hard to the point of exploding in his pants, the telltale tingle in his hips warning him that it’s all too possible.
A question hangs on the tip of his tongue, one he’s so prepared to ask:
Want some help with that Murch?
You jump suddenly, the faint clanging of an alarm on the other side of the glass a shock to his own system.
MotherFUCKER.
“Sorry Di, time’s up. I gotta get moving,” you stammer, shakily pressing buttons to stop the recording and transfer the data. He tosses the headphones off quickly, taking the briefest of moments to wrap his cardigan around his middle to hide the prominence of his erection. He saunters back into the room with a smug smile.
“Now who’s gotten all flustered?” he teases, hopeful you won’t bolt from his sight. The balance is precarious now, a tiny nudge in the direction he desires setting everything off balance. Thankfully you chuckle and shake your head.
“That’s really paying your bills? I swear I’ve read better online for free,” you say, sticking in a loose USB stick and transferring the “audiobook” over for him. Dieter hovers in case you open the file, but you only hand him the drive with an overly bright smile. He takes it from you, searching your face for any hint of the titillation he caught earlier.
“You’ll have to send me your favorites, I’ll record them for a good price,” he drawls, leaning on one hand in your space. It’s a dance he’s done with you in the past, but never with so much charge in the air. He can almost taste the electricity between you, and when you meet his eyes there’s a flash of something deeper, something you won’t let come to the surface so you tamp it down with a dramatic sigh.
“Why would I want my scorching hot erotica in your voice?” you joke, his hands coming up in mock hurt before he winks at you. You shake your head and put the hard drive you came here for in your bag.
“See you on set?” he asks, and god he sounds pitiful to his own ears but you tilt your head and smile, hand on the knob to leave.
“I’ll be around,” you say before leaving him in the booth in silence and his own tangle of thoughts.
A bolt of arousal claws down his spine, a filthy moan falling from his lips.
“Sweetheart, I’m so goddamn hard for you. I need you to look at me. Look at me and I’ll cum so hard. Just fucking look at me. See me. See what you do to me?” His hand moves faster, fingers catching along the thick ridge of his head, the need almost painful as his mind conjures the image. Your lips pursed, eyes still cast down as he whimpers into a microphone.
“Want you to put those talented fingers inside your panties and rub your clit on the other side of this window. Let me whisper all the fucking depraved shit I want to do to you, how I want to lick and finger and fuck every hole until you beg me to stop. I’ll be…such a…good boy for you.” He’s on the knife’s edge, looking down into the chasm, heavy breaths making it harder to hide. “Let me…be your good boy, sweetheart. Please, look at me.”
And in the moment before he cums, you look up and catch his eye.
It’s a livewire to his cock, and he empties onto his stomach with ragged cries. He’s begging it to hurry up, be as fleeting of an orgasm as when he pumps it into some starlet wanting a night with his publicity, but it keeps rolling and rolling over him, shuddering breaths and clamping legs. Tears come to his eyes because even with how fucking good it feels, he knows it could be so much better. He knows a night with you would be a million fucking times better than his hand and his phone next to his ear playing the soft laughs he coaxed out of you. That you’d make him cum, but you’d also make him smile, and preen, and maybe even glow.
Shame burns along his chest at how fucking sad this must look, legendary playboy Dieter Bravo, who could open his hotel room door and have anyone on his cock that he pleases, covered in his own cum while your voice tells him Paris is the city of love.
Stopping the recording, he flops an arm over his face. He’s gotta get you out of his system, invite you to one of his parties for one really good fuck then send you on your happy little way. You could brag about bedding him, about how many orgasms he gave you and how much he’s ruined you for other men. And he could scratch the itch buried between his shoulders that flares when you trade good-natured barbs. Clear his head of this weird little infatuation he hasn’t experienced since he was 25 and drunk off his first love.
That’s it, he’ll do what he always does. Make you feel like the center of his world for a night and part happy and satiated. It might finally ease the giddiness you bring with the swing of your hips. Maybe it will finally feed the emptiness inside him when the drugs peter off and his skin feels too tight and all he wants to do is find the next high or low to distract him.
But first, he’s gotta get you to accept his invitation.
END
#dieter bravo x f!reader#dieter bravo fanfiction#dieter bravo x female reader#dieter bravo x you#dieter bravo x reader#dieter bravo x fem!reader#best laid plans series#prolix fics
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Plastic Hearts, Chapter Seven: Night Crawling
pairing: dieter bravo x actress!oc (Violet Apollo)
rating: E (18+ only, only one minor sexy moment but for safety i’m marking this as explicit, big time angst, talks of drug use/alcohol consumption, talks of sobriety/addiction, fighting, a sort of fluffy ending?)
wc: 4.9k
series masterlist | dieter masterlist
Violet was back in LA, soaking in a rose-scented bath, when her phone began to buzz on the stand beside the bathtub. She lifted her hand from the water and dried it on the hand-towel beside her phone before lifting it up and smiling at the caller ID. Swiping the call button to accept the FaceTime, she beamed bright as Dieter’s face lit up her screen.
“I was wondering when you’d call,” she said, taking in Dieter’s annoyed scowl. “Everything alright?”
“Just miss you,” he sighed, sitting down on the sofa of his dressing room. “They’ve been dressing me up like a fucking doll all day long.”
“Are the pictures coming out good, at least?” she asked, shifting her legs in the water.
“I don’t know. We just wrapped, so they’re good enough for Variety, I guess.” Dieter’s eyes seemed to just now take in the fact that Violet was sitting naked in a bubble bath. “Lower your camera a little, I’m trying to see something.”y
Violet laughed and rolled her eyes at him. “You can see all you want when you come home tomorrow.”
“God, I can’t fucking wait,” he groaned. “I don’t know how I’m going to make it when I have to go away for filming.”
“Maybe I’ll come with you,” she suggested. “After all, I may not have a very busy schedule for a while given the fact that my movie currently has a 42% rating.”
“Not because of you,” he noted.
“Doesn’t matter,” she sighed. “Anyways, back to what I was saying. If I don’t have anything going on, would you mind if I came to visit you?”
“Well, visiting is a given,” he said, smiling at her through the screen, and even though they were on opposite sides of the country, it almost felt like he was right there in the bathtub with her. “My Scorsese project starts filming in January. I think we’re supposed to film in Germany for like a month before shooting the rest in England. So…it’s gonna be brutal.”
“That your way of saying no?”
“No,” he sassed. “It’s my way of giving you an out from having to deal with me when I’m miserable.”
“I’m pretty sure I’ve already had to deal with you when you’re miserable, D.” Violet smirked at the eye roll he gave her. “Basically, I’m just saying that if you want me there, I’m there.”
Dieter looked longingly at her as she lit up a joint with one hand and took a hit.
“You’re my favorite person in the world, you know that?” Dieter said, the sound of vulnerable sincerity leaving his lips making his heart race and Violet’s smile stretch into a grin.
“You’re my favorite person, too,” she replied bashfully.
“I’ve been going insane here without you,” he continued, shaking his head at her. “Everyone sucks. I miss you.”
“I miss you too, D,” she softened her smile at him. “What time are you getting here?”
“I think I land at like two,” he said. “Can I come straight to your place?”
“Hell yeah, you can,” she replied. “I cleared my schedule for the next few days, so you’ve got me all to yourself.”
“God, I can’t wait.”
“Time for set.” Violet could hear Andrea calling for Dieter in the background, bringing a frown to her face.
“Can’t even have you on the phone for five minutes without someone stealing you away,” she said, watching as his cheek dimpled from his smile.
“I’m pretty sure no one’s ever wanted more than five minutes with me before,” he said, earning an eye roll. “I’ll call you when I get back to the hotel?”
“I might be asleep, but call anyways,” she said, blowing him a kiss. “See you tomorrow, Bravo.”
“See you, Apollo.”
The sound of the call disconnecting made Violet sigh and sink further into her bath, wishing more than anything that time would find a way to hurry just this once so that she wouldn’t have to spend another night without him.
“How long until we get to the hotel?” Dieter asked Andrea as she sat with him in the backseat of his chauffeured SUV.
“Maps says an hour with traffic,” she replied, her tone flat as she typed away on her phone.
“I’m gonna try to call Vi,” he said, pulling out his phone.
“We have to talk about your schedule,” she said, glancing over at him. “Can the call wait?”
Dieter gave her a furrowed brow and a glare as he turned to her.
“What’s there to talk about that we haven’t already figured out?”
“Uh, the fact that you’re booked back to back for the next two years,” she said. “I’m trying to accommodate your new situation—“
“Wait—why’d you say it like that?” he asked, shifting in his seat to face her.
“Say what?”
“Situation,” he replied dryly. Andrea sighed and let out a chuckle as she shrugged.
“I don’t know,” she said. “You two aren’t like—“
“Aren’t like what?”
“You’re not serious,” she said. “The two of you. It’s like a fun thing, but—“
“But what?” he snapped. “She’s too young for me? Too pretty? What is it, Andrea?”
“She’s too…this is harsh, but she’s too fucked up,” she finally managed, watching as he boss stared at her in shock. “I mean, I like her, D, don’t get me wrong, but…this thing…it’s not gonna last.”
“I’m fucked up too,” he said. “Why couldn’t that be the reason?”
“I don’t know,” she sighed and rubbed her temples. “Forget I said anything.”
“No, you think she’s too fucked up for me?” he asked, disbelief and anger forcing his voice higher than it normally was.
“I just think she’s young and has a lot of shit going on, and—“
“You don’t know anything,” he said, turning to look out of the window. “She’s not…we’re going to be fine. I don’t know why you’re putting this shit in my head.”
“I’m just trying to remind you that this was a contractual agreement that has an end date—“
“Yeah, but that was before.”
“Before her movie flopped,” she said. “Think about it, D. Dating you was a career move. Do you really think that’s all changed this fast?”
“You think she’s using me?” he snapped.
“I just think it’s convenient that right after she realized this movie wasn’t going to do what she thought it would for her career that she found a way to keep you around longer.”
“Violet wouldn’t do that,” he said, more to himself than anything. “She isn’t like that.”
“Sure,” Andrea shrugged. “I’m just saying…watch out for your career, too.”
“You were the one scheming to get us together in London—“
“So that there was peace,” she said. “And so that this contract—“
“Fuck the contract,” he said, shooting her a piercing glare. “Doesn’t matter how it started. It’s more than a contract now. Respect that or don’t, but don’t bring her up again—“
“Or what, D?”
“Or…you’re fired.” Andrea gave him a wide eyed look, like she didn’t even recognize him.
“You’re going to fire me? After all we’ve been through?”
“If you don’t keep your opinions to yourself,” he said, turning back to the window. “Violet’s in my life. Get over it.”
“Fine,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
Dieter shook his head, his eyes rolling behind his sunglasses while his knee began to bounce from the thoughts racing through his mind. Though he did value both the business and personal relationship he’s shared with Andrea, he’d never found someone who made him feel as understood and accepted as Violet, and that alone was enough reason to ignore her warning.
Violet was at the airport an hour before Dieter’s plane was scheduled to land just out of sheer impatience, hoping that if she willed it hard enough, a miracle would happen and he’d already be there waiting for her to bring him home, but unfortunately, wishing wasn’t enough to stop his plane from being delayed three hours forcing her to wander around, attempting to stay as under the radar as possible while she waited for him.
“Excuse me?” Violet stiffened at the voice that sounded from behind her as she sat in front of a window facing the runway. Turning around slowly, she was greeted with a mother and a little girl around twelve or thirteen who looked awestruck. “Are you Violet Apollo?”
“I am,” Violet said, fixing a friendly smile on her face.
“My daughter is such a huge fan of yours,” the mother said, urging her shaking daughter forward. “Tell her, baby.”
“I—“ the little girl squeaked, her eyes full of tears. “I r-really like your new movie.”
“Thank you,” Violet cooed, frowning at her as she stood up. “You’re such a sweetheart. Would you like a hug or a picture or anything? You’re making me get teary eyed, too.”
“Yeah,” she nodded, wiping her eyes with her sweatshirt sleeves before allowing Violet to give her a tight squeeze.
“Thank you so much for talking to her,” her mother said, reaching into her back pocket to pull out her phone. “Could she get a picture?”
“Sure,” Violet nodded.
After snapping the picture, the mother began speaking again, but this time Violet’s attention was pulled elsewhere to the sight of her boyfriend in all of his gruff, moody glory walking towards her from his gate with his suitcase in one hand rolling behind him, his other hand holding onto the backpack slung over his shoulder.
“Oh my god—“ Violet watched as the mother turned to Dieter, awestruck in her own right as she waved at him like a lovestruck teenager. She met him halfway, holding her phone out to try and take a selfie. “Dieter, could I—“
“I just landed,” he sighed, the glasses he was wearing only slightly managing to hide the bags beneath his eyes. “I’d like to just be able to say hello to my girlfriend before having a phone shoved in my face. Is that alright with you?”
Violet watched as the woman’s mood quickly dampened, her face falling at the sound of her idol snapping at her, forcing Violet to feel guilty by association.
After the mother and daughter left, one feeling on top of the world and one feeling crushed, Violet gave Dieter a tight hug, feeling him melt into her like she was some sort of antidote to whatever was turning his mood so foul.
“God, I’ve missed you,” he mumbled into her hair as he squeezed her tight. “Last night was…it was a lot. I want to tell you about it when we’re alone.”
“That why you were so mean to that poor lady?” she asked, leaning back and holding his face between her hands to get a good look at him in all his scruffy glory.
“Half of the reason,” he replied, leaning in to press a soft kiss on her lips. “I also just can’t fucking stand when people shove their phones in my face.”
“I know,” she cooed, wiping her lip gloss off his bottom lip. “Let’s get you home, then.”
“So,” Violet turned to Dieter sitting in the passenger seat as they started on their way back home. “What’s up?”
Dieter sighed and shook his head. “Andrea said some shit.”
“About you?”
“No,” he said, turning to her. “About…you.”
“Me?” she asked, her voice raising an octave. “What did I do?”
“Nothing,” he assured, reaching to rest his hand on her thigh. “She just seems to think our relationship isn’t an actual relationship or some shit.”
“Okay, well, it is,” Violet chuckled. “Is that all she said?”
Dieter winced as he tried to muster the courage to tell her the worst part of everything—that Andrea believed Violet wasn’t only just “too fucked up”, but in this whole thing for the wrong reasons.
“Yeah, just…just some other shit about your character that I’m not gonna—“
“What did she say?” Violet urged, glancing between him and the road.
“She just said that you’re—and these aren’t my words or my feelings at all, okay? I don’t want you thinking that I feel this way, because it couldn’t be more wrong.”
“Dieter, spit it out.”
“She said you’re too fucked up for a real relationship,” he said, forcing the words out. Violet went silent, going inward immediately and closing herself off. “I need you to know that I told her to shut the fuck up and keep her bullshit opinions to herself. Alright? I don’t believe that. If anything, I’m the one who’s too fucked up.”
After a few more beats of silence and no change of her blank expression, Dieter sighed, rubbing his palm over her jean-clothed thigh.
“Baby?”
“Yeah,” she answered, her voice breaking.
“You’re not fucked up. I don’t know why she said that—“
“Because,” Violet let out something between a laugh and a sob as the first tear fell from her eyes only to be caught by Dieter’s thumb. “Because I am. I’m fucked up.”
“You’re not,” he insisted, sitting up and shifting his body to face hers. “Fuck. I hate that she said that, and I hate that you had to hear it. You’re…fuck, Vi. You’re not fucked up. You’re…”
“I’m what, D?” she cried, wiping her tears away with the sleeve of her hoodie. “I’m a fucking messed up, people pleasing, selfish—“
“You are the most kind, selfless, empathetic, gorgeous human being I’ve ever fucking met. That’s what you are,” he interjected. “I’ve met enough truly fucked up people to know the difference between someone who’s a piece of shit and someone who’s just battling shit. No one gets to fucking fault you for being human. Not as long as I’m around to say something about it.”
Violet frowned, not from the sting of Andrea’s words, but from the sincerity lacing each and every one of his words, so sincere that she felt herself begin to believe it, too.
This is why she loved him. This is why she craved his presence. When Dieter was around, she felt like a person deserving of all the things she spent years believing she never deserved.
“I…I fucking love you, D,” she said, her voice just a broken whisper as she focused on the road. “Thank you for being here.”
“Baby,” he leaned over the center console between them and pressed his lips against her shoulder. “Say the word and she’s gone.”
“No,” she shook her head. “I’m not…she’s been in your life for years. She’s good at what she does. I’m not gonna take it personally.”
“Okay,” he surrendered. “But the next time she opens her mouth—“
“Such a guard dog,” she teased, offering him a tear-swollen smile. “I just need to grow thicker skin. I’m just…shocked. I thought she liked me.”
“I did, too,” he said. “Her loss.”
“Oh, to see myself through your eyes, Bravo.”
“Then maybe you’d take it easy on yourself for once and realize you’re fucking killing it.” He smiled as her laughter filled the car. “I love you, Apollo.”
“Love you, Bravo.”
“God, your house is so much more…housier than mine,” Dieter swooned as he opened Violet’s fully stocked fridge. “All I have in my fridge is red bull and kit-kats.”
Violet laughed as she chopped garlic for the dinner she was making.
“Feel free to come raid my fridge whenever you want,” she said, turning to give him a smile.
“Careful,” he warned with a grin as he grabbed a bottle of sparkling water and joined her at the island. “I might just make myself comfortable here, and after that, you won’t be able to get rid of me. Like a cockroach.”
“What a stunning cockroach you are, Bravo,” she joked, wiping off her knife before carrying the cutting board over to the stove. “Maybe I want you to get comfortable and never leave. Ever consider that?”
“I’ve considered it. Just doesn’t make any sense,” he said, following her to the stove like a dog. Violet melted against him as he stood tall behind her, his hands resting on her hips as he buried his face in her neck. “Why don’t you just order takeout? Free up some valuable time we could be spending doing something more exciting.”
“Because,” she chuckled. “I’ve never cooked for you and I want to.”
Dieter hummed and pressed his lips against her pulse as he tugged her back against the tent forming in his lounge pants, her resolve crumbling with each passing second.
“What can I do to help you, then?” he asked, slipping his hand across her stomach before lowering it beneath the thin material of her pajama pants. Violet’s breath hitched as his palm cupped her heat, teasing her with his warmth.
“You can stop distracting me and pour me a glass of wine,” she said, gathering her wits enough to prevent the garlic and onion she had caramelizing on the stove from burning.
“Red or white?” he asked, pressing his fingers against her clit to rub slow, teasing circles against it.
“R-red,” she managed through her drunken arousal. Dieter pressed a kiss against her pulse before pulling away, his eyes locking with hers as he lifted his fingers to his mouth and licked them clean. “You’re not playing fairly.”
“I’m just having an appetizer,” he said, smirking as he walked over to the wine fridge and tugged out a bottle of her favorite red. “So, what exactly are you making?”
“Pasta,” she replied, moving on to start whipping up the rue for her white sauce. “I used to make it all the time when I was broke.”
“Oh, how sweet of you to make me a struggle meal,” he teased.
“It doesn’t taste like a struggle meal, asshole,” she quipped, earning a sincere laugh. “You’re gonna love it.”
Dieter walked her glass of wine over, placing a kiss on her cheek as he set the glass down on the counter. “M’sorry for being an ass. Just never had anyone do this for me who wasn’t paid to.”
“Your parents never cooked for you?” she asked, a sarcastic lilt to her voice as she looked at him, but when she saw the vulnerability hidden deeply in his eyes, her smile was wiped away. “D…you’ve never had someone cook for you just to cook for you?”
“Uh, no,” he replied, seemingly nervous from the confession as he rubbed the back of his neck. “You’re the first person to do a lot of things for me.”
Violet’s heart both broke and warmed at his words. While she harbored a deep resentment towards his parents and ex-partners for holding back the love she knew he deserved, she also couldn’t help but feel a certain pride in being the first to show him what it was like to be cared for.
“Well, thank you for trusting me enough to do this,” she said, looking away from him to give him some reprieve.
“You’re thanking me for letting you cook for me?” he chuckled. “Shouldn’t it be the other way around?”
“No,” she shook her head and gave him a smile. “Next time you can thank me, but this time, it’s me who gets to do the thanking.”
Dieter only chuckled, a bashful smile growing on his face as he looked down at his bottle of water to hide his blush.
“Maybe I can cook for you one day,” he said. “Though I don’t know how edible it’ll be.”
“It’s the thought that counts, right?”
With their stomachs stuffed and their lungs filled with smoke, Violet and Dieter found themselves out on the town after receiving a text from Lucy inviting them out to an industry party.
Though Dieter wasn’t a fan of going out, especially in LA, Violet seemed eager to get out of the house and let loose for one night, and who was he to deny her anything? He was sure he’d walk through the gates of hell with a smile on his face if it meant she’d be holding his hand.
“Vi!” a man shouted for Violet as she sat on Dieter’s lap, the two of them tucked away in a VIP booth.
“Oh my god,” Violet grinned, standing up to go hug the tall, dark, and handsome stranger. Dieter bit the inside of his cheek as he took in the low placement of the man’s hands resting just above the swell of her ass. “It’s been so long!”
“Well you never come out anymore,” he teased, giving her a wink. “Maybe if your old man let you out of the house—“
“Shush,” she chuckled. “Let me introduce you.”
Holding his hand, she dragged the man over to the booth with a wide smile.
“D, this is Jordan,” she said, letting go of his Jordan’s hand so that he could shake Dieter’s. “You two get acquainted while I go to the bathroom.”
“Hey,” Dieter greeted his competition with a flat tone and unamused look. “How do you and V know each other?”
“Oh, we used to date a few years back, but we’ve been good friends since,” he said, taking a seat at the other end of the curved booth.
Dieter’s jaw ticked, the itch in his palms to soothe his anxiety with a drink or something stronger returning.
“Don’t worry about me, Violet’s made it clear she’s not interested,” he said, though the smirk on his face told Dieter it wasn’t for a lack of trying. “Although, man to man, she’s looking great since she lost all that weight.”
“The fuck did you just say?” Dieter spat, his bored look turning to one of irritation in the matter of a second.
“What? You’re telling me you liked her when she was thick?” he asked from over the rim of his glass.
“Listen, man. I don’t know you. Violet seems to like you, but don’t think that makes us cool,” Dieter said, trying to reel in his jealousy and irritation at the drunken scene in front of him. “And don’t talk about her.”
“Chill, man,” Jordan said, chuckling at Dieter’s protectiveness. “She’s a grown woman. She can pick her own friends.”
“I never said she couldn’t,” he argued. “She can pick all the shitty friends she wants.”
“You’re a fuckin’ asshole,” Jordan scoffed, standing up from the booth. “Don’t know what the fuck she sees in you.”
Dieter gritted his teeth as he watched Jordan disappear into the club, leaving him alone in the booth to sip on his water.
When Violet returned, Dieter noticed a change in her demeanor, her hands fidgeting as she reached for her tequila soda. With a little closer inspection, he felt his stomach sink at the powdery white substance lingering on her nostril.
“What the fuck?” he sighed, reaching to wipe the coke away. “When did you start doing this?”
Violet tensed up, shooting him a glare as she pulled her compact mirror out of her bag and fixed herself.
“You gonna answer me?”
“Dieter, god, I’m just trying to have fun,” she snapped, sliding off of his lap. “It’s not like I have a problem—“
“Yet,” he interrupted. “When did this start?”
“When we weren’t talking, now can you drop it?” she groaned, her high clearly crashing from Dieter’s serious tone.
“Do you know how dangerous this shit is?” he asked, leaning in to speak quieter as Lucy and her boyfriend joined them at the table.
“You’re one to talk,” she snapped. “What? You can have fun and it’s okay, but I can’t?”
“I wasn’t having fun, I was fucking addicted,” he countered, surprised to feel the amount of irritation towards her that he was. “But fuck it. Do what you want, be friends with who you want—“
“That’s what this is about? You’re jealous?”
Dieter scoffed and stood up, forcing her out of the booth so that he could walk outside to get a breath of fresh air. “Dieter!”
She’d followed him, the click of her heels on the sidewalk as he walked down Sunset with a joint in his mouth acting as an alarm to his already incredibly anxious heart.
“Vi, I don’t want to fight,” he sighed, breathing out the smoke. “I just…do you know how hard it was to quit that shit? How many people I lost? How it affected my career? Do you honestly think it’ll be any different for you?”
“I don’t know!” she snapped. “I’m just trying to let loose and act like a fucking normal twenty-five year old!”
“Maybe that’s not a good thing,” he mumbled to himself.
“You don’t get it,” she rolled her eyes. “You’ve had the entire fucking world handed to you.”
Dieter looked her dead in the eyes, his lips parted as he tried to separate his feelings for drunken Violet from sober.
“Violet,” he said softly, tilting his head as though he was trying to recognize her. “You’re drunk and saying shit you won’t remember, but I will.”
“Just…go home,” she sighed, wrapping her arms over her chest to warm herself up.
“Vi—“
“Go,” she repeated, gesturing at the road. “If you’re going to judge me—“
“I’m not judging, I’m trying to look out for you—“
“I’m not a fucking child to look out for!” she snapped, yelling and drawing eyes on them, the flickers of hidden cameras following shortly. “Just admit that you think I’m fucked up like Andrea does.”
“What?” he demanded, almost laughing at her drunken train of thought. “You know what, right now you are being really fucked up. And you’re right, you’re not a child. You can do what you want. But if you think I’m going to stay and watch you burn yourself into the fucking ground, you’re wrong.”
“Then go,” she said, her face turning stone cold.
Dieter shook his head as he looked into her eyes, seeing the same brokenness in them that he saw in the beginning of their relationship, but this time there was something else in them—something close to resentment.
“Alright,” he said, his voice cracking with emotion. “You want me to go?”
“If you’re going to be like this.”
Shaking his head, he looked towards the road and swore under his breath.
“Fine,” he said, ashing his joint out on the sidewalk. “Have fun with your fucking hangover.”
“I will,” she snarked.
It was six in the morning when Dieter woke up, the sound of his phone ringing on his nightstand acting as an alarm.
“Hello?” he croaked, still half asleep.
“D…I’m outside.” Violet’s voice sounded worse than his, forcing him wide awake. “Can you come let me in?”
“Yeah, just…give me a second,” he said, hanging up the phone so that he could slide his robe on.
When he opened the door, he was met with a very sloppy looking Violet, still beautiful even with eyeliner and mascara smudged around her eyes, the strap of her tight minidress hanging off her shoulder.
“I’m so sorry,” she said, already crying. Dieter shook his head at her and wrapped his arms around her, holding her tight until her sobbing ceased. “I said so much dumb shit—“
“Shh,” he hushed her as he guided her into his home, locking the door behind him. “It’s okay.”
“No,” she cried, turning to face him in his foyer. “I said shit I didn’t mean. I…you were right. I shouldn’t be touching any of that shit, but I just—“ She took in a deep breath and shook her head. “I’m so lost, D. I don’t know what I’m doing. I feel like I don’t deserve anything good, especially you. I mean, what kind of girlfriend brings their sober partner to a club? All because I wanted to get out of my head. Fucking stupid.”
“Stop,” he said, reaching to wipe her tears away. “I’m not going to lie and tell you I wasn’t fucking pissed, but…I get it. I get everything going on in your head right now because it went through mine for twenty fucking years. And I wish I would’ve had someone step in and tell me I was being a fucking idiot. That’s all I was trying to do, just…just trying to make sure you don’t make the same mistakes I did.”
“I know,” she nodded, stepping closer to him, her hands settling on the collar of his robe. “I should’ve listened to you. Last night was…the worst. Jordan tried to cop a feel and then I started screaming at him and got us all kicked out. Then him and Lucy started going at it, and her boyfriend stepped in and tried to fight him, getting them both arrested—“
“Jesus.”
“I know,” she frowned, looking up into his eyes. “It was childish, and stupid, and reckless, and…once you were gone, all I could think about was how fucking much I wished I’d just gone home with you.”
“Well, you’re here now,” he said, offering her a small smile as he cupped her cheek with his hand. “And by the looks of it, you need a shower and some comfier clothes.”
“Desperately.”
“Well, let’s go,” he said, planting a soft kiss on her cheeks before nudging his head in the direction of his bedroom. “We’ve got some making up to do.”
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Sweet Creature Vibes
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FLORA & FAUNA MASTERLIST 💐
💐 A collection of Pedro Boy stories featuring flowers. Smut -🌶 Soft - ☁️
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@mysterious-moonstruck-musings that vibes page for Dieter & Closed position gave me soooo many thots…
So… this is my gift to you 💜
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