#dieterbravo/reader | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

theredwritingwitch · 2 years

Text

Fleetwood Day

Pairing: Dieter Bravo x fem!reader

Summary: The day starts with Dieter in his normal asshole mood, and then it starts again, and again, and again, and...

Word Count: 11K

Warnings: drugs, cursing, alcohol, stealing, fingering, creampie, vaginal sex, oral sex (female receiving)

Ratings: E

Author’s Note: Based off the movie Groundhog Day...also I’m tired and going on a trip tomorrow so sorry for spelling or grammar mistakes.

June 25

“If you wake up and don’t want to smile,” Dieter moans out with his head muffled into a pillow. The sun blazes through the open curtains as the alarm clock rings out. “If it takes just a little while,” the sluggish actor raises his hand and reaches his arm out, flopping it lazily through the air, missing the alarm as Fleetwood Mac continued to blare, “Open your eyes and look at the day, You'll see things in a different way.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Dieter swore as he turns over and finally smacks the alarm off. He makes grabby hands around the side table as he finally grabs hold of his sunglasses and places them on his still closed eyes. Dieter lifts his head slightly as a text buzzes in through his phone, blaring the words “YOUR LATE.” Slowly he rises and squints, even with his sunglasses on, out through the window. He was late. Dieter doesn’t realize how much time had passed as he’s lounged in his hotel bed. Everything is too white, too clean, too bright in this hotel room. From the walls, the sheets, to the furniture; it was all that uniform look that never makes him comfortable. The trash, the loose clothes, bottles and stashes of wine and drugs though; that all makes him more comfortable. But today is a work day, he can't stay in bed. He scratches his beard and gives a quick glance at himself in the mirror. Shorts, a worn-out button up, crocs, and bed head. It’ll do.

He arrives on set for a photoshoot and interview for his latest movie 4 hours late. He doesn't bother explaining why he’s late, that he’s sorry, or that he’s thankful for everyone’s patience. Nope, Dieter stays grumpily silent, ready to go through the motions that he’s done so many other times; hair, makeup, pose for photographer, talk to interviewer, return to hotel room, drugs, sleep. No one really seems surprised by his tardiness, his disheveled looks, or his smoky smell. Dieter isn’t surprised everyone knows his reputation a little too well. They don’t even bother making conversation. But that’s no surprise since Dieter is shit at small talk, even to people he sees on a daily basis. He doesn't even seem to comprehend that you, his personal assistant, is also in the room. No hello, no hi, no nod, no questions or statements, no acknowledgment. But you’re used to that, that’s Dieter’s way of fumbling through life. You watch him doze off and slouch in the makeup chair, not bothering looking a bit professional. The photographer is particularly over this whole session, barely giving Dieter any instructions or advice. The interviewer tries her best not to look pissed; she tries a quick ‘this or that’ game that the internet will surely love. All in all the interview is…fine…it’s over at least, you wonder what work management will have to do to help this image look better. Dieter himself is lackluster, all this for a film he hardly likes, just to grab one more paycheck at the end of the day.

Not bothering to hide his yawn as he exits the photoshoot, clearly unconcerned by your shouting, Dieter instead looks forward to grabbing a bite to eat. He doesn’t bother waiting for the hostess to seat him and orders food that isn’t actually on the menu. Dieter adjusts his sunglasses as he waves off the annoyed waiter and looks out to the scenic sea before him. The PR team wanted the photoshoot over the cliffside village in Italy. It was picturesque. Quante with colorful houses, staircases that lead into the sea, narrow pathways flowing through the village; all real nice postcard shit. He has no idea what it all had to do with his latest movie, one where he plays some wandering stranger in the apocalypse.

Just as he considers taking a picture of the view to send to his mother, two figures sit in the seats across from him. His agent, Ben, doesn't ask permission to sit down and Dieter doesn’t care. He’s been with Ben for years, the man is completely used to Dieter’s ways and eccentricities. He’s all business; a big Hollywood man who knows how to talk the talk and walk the walk. Without Dieter, Ben would do just fine. Honestly Dieter guesses Ben only stays with him out of loyalty. On the other hand, Dieter stays with Ben because no one else will take him. He may be all about business but he’s a decent guy that knows how to handle Dieter well enough. Everyone likes Ben, especially when he has those simple social graces down. As Ben slides into his seat, he pulls out the chair next to him, letting the latest member of the team have the other empty chair.

You’re not exactly new new as Dieter had guessed when he first met you. But you are his newest PA, he had thought he could run you right over and get his way on most things. He does from time to time, especially lately. At the start, you had hounded him to get his shit together, be on time, look professional, and greet people. He complies every once in a while, but he likes to poke at you and lately you have been cracking. Dieter was really getting through life by the bare minimum. He has to give you credit though, not that he would ever say it out loud, you do your job well; you know how this business works and how a screw up like Dieter works. The last six months lacked any media disaster moments thanks to your quick thinking and planning. But you are definitely tired of him, he could see it in the way your face fell when you thought he wasn’t looking. He saw it at the photoshoot today. He’d seen that face on many others before and he stopped feeling sorry for it long ago.

“So, late again,” Ben sighs out, “Good thing you freshen up well I guess.” He reaches into his pocket and brings out his cell phone, not even bothering to look up at Dieter. “Or maybe my compliments should all go to the makeup artist and photographer.”

“Probably wouldn’t hurt,” Dieter mumbles as he stowes away his phone, forgetting all about the picture.

“No it wouldn’t hurt to tell someone they do good work. Maybe you should try to do that someday? You know, so I don’t have to come in after you and sweep up your mess every time.”

Dieter doesn’t even make eye contact with Ben as he swirls his glass of wine around and drinks it up.

“Well anyways, I read through the interviewer’s notes and everything looks fine. No worries there. The movie even currently has a 98% on RottenTomatoes,” Ben looks up at Dieter expectantly.

“Yea,” Dieter deadpans with a swirl of his fingers.

Ben scuffs and rolls his eyes to give you a familiar look. You and Ben have had a great many talks about Dieter Bravo. The two of you had several discussions about different tactics to deal with Dieter and even more discussions about leaving Bravo to someone else’s handling. You've been in the business long enough to have connections for better job prospects. You really have no love for Dieter, he wasn’t abusive or cruel, just plainly a lazy asshole. Leaving him would be easy. Ben, on the other hand, had been with him for years and was looking into other opportunities. That was a harder process for him, solely for the friendship he once held with Dieter, not that the friendship was broken but it wasn’t what it once was.

“So let’s talk about what to expect for the rest of the day,” you speak dryly to Dieter as he went on to eat his late lunch. “There’s a party going on in a local restaurant, a semi-formal event. We have a makeup artist on standby in your room. It’s a standard meet and greet. Nothing too special, just chat with some lucky attendees. That’s from 2-5. After that, you have the night to yourself. Do as you please as long as you're not getting into too much trouble, Dieter…Dieter?”

The Oscar winning star had stopped listening to you as soon as you mentioned the mandatory party. He’s really tired of parties, maybe that was out of character for his reputation, but he’s done with the loud music and bright lights. The people are even louder than the music and less interesting than the napkin currently on his lap, smudged with grease from his food. Dieter Bravo was wanted by every party but unwanted by everyone at the party. The man hates going out honestly, he may have become a couch potato with age. He longs for an afternoon in his robe, a long night with paint caked on his fingers, early morning beginning with a kit-kat, and a joint waiting for him at all times.

“DIETER.”

Dieter jolts to your loud hiss. He throws his hands up in defense.

“No snoozing till done schmoozing, no pot nor pill till I’m out of the mill…” Dieter pauses as his mouth hangs open in thought. You tap your finger as Ben shakes his head at his phone. “No nudity till after duty,” Dieter giggles at the last rule you had imposed on him.

Both you and Ben nod and sigh. It was always one step at a time with Bravo.

“Well now that’s been all sorted out, I’ve got a flight to catch. My wife is already disappointed that I’ll be late for our anniversary trip.” Ben stands from the table and roughs up Dieter’s hair as the actor brushes him off. You stand as well and walk Ben out of the restaurant, leaving Dieter to pick apart his food.

“Sure you want to leave already? We’re about to have so much fun,” the sarcasm was a normal attitude you and Dan shared often.

“Oh I’m sure, good luck with that,” Dan glances back at your charge. He grimaces and looks back at you, “Listen after the party, find some time for yourself. The village is beautiful and once Dieter is locked away in his room, you’ll be all clear to find your own get-away.”

“If he listens to me at all,” you roll your eyes as you remember how he acted earlier.

“Just try to get through the day, it’s only a couple more hours and then you're off the clock. You know once he’s back in his room, he won’t bother coming back out. He’s such a recluse these days.”

You nod and give him a quick hug before he leaves you to your charge.

You turn towards Dieter watching him tap at his wine glass to a waiter. The clock in your phone tells you it’s past noon already. Time to get this man-baby moving.

The world renowned actor Dieter Bravo does not ever move fast. He’s sluggish and mopey. You would consider his messy hair and pouty lips cute if he wasn’t ruining the day for everyone. Makeup and hair take too long that he becomes antsy. His pants itch, the shirt is a little too snug. The sunglasses don’t go with the outfit but he insists they stay. At the party he stays at the appetizer tables the whole time till you shew him away. He mumbles out half ass answers to everyone, only when he doesn’t shoo them away with his disinterests. The afternoon drags on, but at least he isn’t jumping into the sea in nothing but his birthday suite or snorting salt from a waiter’s serving tray. He got the salt confused with something else once… You’re always thankful for the small wins.

“No offense but I’m having trouble caring about your…well just you in general.”

Another guest walks away annoyed from Dieter as he lounges against the balcony railing. Dieter looks out to the sea, bored out of his mind. No one bothers him for the rest of his time at the party, all scared away by a moody actor. He blows out a puff of smoke from his blunt, contemplating if he’ll watch an old classic movie tonight or porn. You walk up to him, waving the smoke away.

“Dieter, could you please hold off on smoking till you're done with the party? No one wants to talk to a cloud of smoke.”

He doesn't even glance at you, just stuffs the blunt in his pocket, “How much longer?”

“Just a half an hour left. Then you’re free.”

“30 minutes,” Dieter pauses to bite his lip. “Yeah I’m gonna just leave now.”

“No Dieter wait!” You grab hold of Dieter's sleeve as he starts his way to the nearest exit, “30 minutes isn’t long, you can spend it at the appetizer table if you have to!”

This gives him pause, “That would work except I ate the majority of those apps. I was bored.” He pushes you off of him as he takes the stairs from the restaurant.

“Fine, how about 20 minutes. Then you can be off.”

“10 minutes,” he huffs out.

“15 and you take a picture with the owner,” you point at Dieter.

“10 and I take a picture with the owner,” he counter points at you.

“Deal,” you know that you won’t get a better deal.

Quickly the pictures are taken, the staff and crew are excited but Dieter cheaks out as soon as the camera is lowered. You watch him go quiet to his own adventure or hibernation. The ping of your phone gets your attention as you receive a text from another actor’s PA about a local’s cookout going on at the beach. Earlier in your time with Dieter, you had invited him to these small get-togethers, thinking he may enjoy the local atmosphere away from paparazzi. But he had always scuffed at the idea. Now you don’t bother, don’t even consider him in on the party. You roll your eyes, he can fend for himself for the rest of the night, you’ll have your fun.

Dieter strays here and there. He watches people enjoy their night. They laugh and sing, walking up and down the seaside village as they take in the lively night air. When he was younger he used to go out dancing late at night. He can hear the music playing at one of the open air restaurants, people swinging in and out of each others arms. Warm arms holding and caressing each other. They share drinks and tell stories all through the night. For a moment, Dieter considers spending his night in the corner of the bar, eavesdropping on everything he’s missing. But he doesn’t need to be seen as a creeper. He walks back to the hotel instead. Alone except for the cloud of smoke that engulfs him as soon as he enters his room. He sheds his clothes for his green puffy robe. He shares pills and other drugs with himself as he throws on some marine time documentary. The soothing voice of the narrator fills the room as Dieter lounges in his bed again. He doesn’t bother setting the alarm, you’ll come to wake him up.

June 25

“If you wake up and don’t want to smile,” Dieter moans out with his head muffled into a pillow. The sun is blazing through the open window as the alarm clock rings out. “If it takes just a little while,” the lethargic actor flops his outstretched arm through the air, nearing the alarm as Fleetwood Mac continues to blare out, “Open your eyes and look at the day, You'll see things in a different way.”

“Oh fuck off,” Dieter curses as he turns over and finally smacks the alarm off. He pushes several items out of the way on the side table as he finally grabs hold of his sunglasses and places them onto his blurry eyes. Dieter lifts his head slightly as a text buzzes in through his phone, blaring with the words “YOUR LATE.” Confused as to what he’s late for now, he scrolls through his calendar, looking over the schedule you had created for him. The same interview he did yesterday was showing up today. Same team. Same time. Same place. As well as the same party in the afternoon. Except his calendar says that yesterday is today. Today is June 25, but yesterday was June 25?

Dieter rubs his eyes and then glances about the room. His robe is in the same place as before, his clothes the same button down as what he remembered, even the drugs that he did last night were still on the side table. Dieter stands from bed and spins around the room taking every detail in, seeing that the mess he made from the night before is nowhere to be seen. It’s as if he never came back to his room last night and crashed.

Confused, Dieter shakes his head and grabs his phone and quickly walks his way through the hotel. He gets to the photoshoot where everyone is off doing their task and job. He sees the stylist prepping her station, the photographer switching lenses, the interviewer writing notes, and you type away at your phone. He nods a hello at you when you look up and slides into his chair for hair and makeup. The photoshoot and interview go as normal, or rather as they did the day before. Dieter even goes to the hotel’s restaurant and has the same decision with you and Ben.

Even the party this evening goes the same. Same music, same people, same food. He decides the day has been weird long enough and starts to leave when he feels you grab ahold of his arm.

“Just a half an hour left. Then you’re free.”

“30 minutes.” Dieter pauses as he realizes that’s what he said yesterday. “Yeah I’m definitely leaving now.”

“No Dieter wait!” You tug on Dieter’s sleeve “30 minutes isn’t long, you can spend it at the appetizer table if you have to!”

Of course you say that Dieter thinks, “I already ate the majority of those apps. I’ve got too much shit going on in my mind right now.” He looks toward the exit, fully knowing what you're about to say next.

“Fine, how about 20 minutes. Then you can be off.”

“10 minutes,” he says emotionlessly.

“15 and you take a picture with the owner,” you point at Dieter.

“10 and I take a picture with the owner,” he knows he’s won.

“Deal,” you smile and tug him forward.

Quickly the pictures are taken and the 10 minutes go by. He thinks about what he’ll do for the rest of the night as you interrupt his thoughts.

“Alright, you're free to go,” you smile effortlessly at him.

“Cool,” He pauses before he sets off to leave. You ‘ve always been a straight shooter with him, maybe you know something. “I’ve got a weird question for you, have you ever gone through a day that you swear you’ve already done?”

You hum and think for a moment, “Like when you’ve driven the same road again and again and you get to the point you don’t really think about what to do so much as your body just goes through the actions?”

Dieter smiles and nods, “Yes like that except it's not just the one particular time, it’s the whole day!”

“Oh kind of like déjà vu?”

“Yeah I guess so. It feels like I’ve been through this whole day twice now.”

“It probably means you need more sleep, that you’ve been doing gigs like this too much,” you laugh and shake your head at him.

He smiles back and scratches at his beard, “You're probably right, just weird déjà vu shit.”

“Rest Bravo, get some rest. Think you can take it easy tonight?” you ask him as your phone buzzes with a text.

“Yeah I can do that,” he mumbles as he slowly walks down the stairs and out the restaurant to his hotel, leaving you behind to type away at your phone.

Dieter doesn’t bother with the stray walk he took before, or what he thought he took the night before. Skipping the open air restaurants and dancing couples, he wonders what the hell he took last night that gave him some major déjà vu. He reminds himself that he needs to stay hydrated more often, that has to be it.

June 25

“If you wake up and don’t want to smile,” Dieter moans out with his head muffled into a pillow. The sun blazes through the open curtains as the alarm clock rings out. “If it takes just a little while,” the startled actor bolts his hand out of bed, barely hitting the alarm as Fleetwood Mac continues to blare, “Open your eyes and look at the day, You'll see things in a different way.”

“Fuck off,” Dieter curses as he turns over and finally grabs ahold of the alarm. It reads the same time as the past two days. There’s no way that's right though. That’s all just some déjà vu shit. He didn’t take anything last night, just hydrated like a good boy then fell asleep to some porn. He stares at the clock dumbfounded when a text to his phone buzzes, startling him. He peers slowly over to the phone, eyeing it as he reads the words “YOUR LATE.” He was late. Third day in a row late. Dieter doesn’t bother looking around the hotel room as he grabs his crocs and quickly shuffles out. The schedule still says that he has a photoshoot and interview, nothing is different. He curses himself and trips on his own feet as he enters the lobby.

He stops to ask a hotel employee what the date is. June 25. He dumbly nods his head, not daring to say it out loud but clearly thinking that yesterday was June 25. Dieter gives a nervous glance to the front desk and continues to the photoshoot and interview.

“What the fuck is going on…” the actor whispers to himself.

Upon arrival he finds the same people as before. All just going about their jobs, same old same old. Dieter sits in the chair for makeup as the artist gets to work, he’s wide eyed and tapping his fingers uncontrollably against the chair’s arms. It’s finally when he gets into his wardrobe that his scattered brain finally gets an idea. Dieter calls out to you.

You had watched him walk into the photoshoot late, he was obviously high on something. The way he looked bewildered at everything, the way he looked suspicious at everyone. He was twitchy and agitated. So it was to no surprise that he called out to you.

“What are you on?”

Your question sent Dieter into a tizzy fit.

“What am I on? I mean I took a bunch of different things last night,” Dieter trails off as he thinks over his days. “Or maybe it was the night before last night because last night, or tonight, I drank a bunch of water. But then today and yesterday all those drugs and the water I drank seemed to reappear this morning, which normally would be great but this whole day is… weird.” Dieter speaks fast as you stare him down.

“It sounds like a friend of yours just refilled your supply Dieter.”

He straightens out in his chair and lurches forward to you, “No you don’t get it. It’s not that the drugs are back but the music is the same, the people are all the same, and everything that happened yesterday and the day before yesterday is happening again.” He glances about the room as he leans into you.

“Ok let me ask again, what did you take last night?”

“It’s not last night, it’s tonight! Don’t you get it!” Dieter now hisses at you in a low voice. “Today happened yesterday as yesterday happened yesterday’s yesterday so today is yesterday’s yesterday.” He spreads his hands out before you as if he has given you all the information in the world.

“Ok…ok…” you study his face, contemplating what to do next. You had dealt with drunk or high Dieter on many different occasions but he was never this confused. Certainly he could be paranoid about things, but never to the point where he was really out of it. Normally he would grumble about upsetting the cells in his head but would get his work done once you butted him in the butt enough times. This was different, and very confusing. You decide to try a new tactic, “How about this, what are you taking tonight?”

“Not the same shit that I took earlier,” Dieter mumbles as he gets out of wardrobe and poses for the photographer.

He gets through the motions of the photoshoot quickly, knowing what he did last couple of times and even gets through the interview quickly. He answers each of the questions well enough although he now has a questionable paranoid look on his face. He looks extremely untrustworthy towards the interviewer, sending questions right back at her, really putting her off her game. As soon as he’s done, he changes clothes, talking high speed about bugs and implants that are fucking with his head. He moves fast to the door but pauses just before leaving, and just before you're about to yell at him to wait up, which surprises you entirely.

“Let's eat at a nearby restaurant.”

“Not the hotel’s restaurant?” you inquire as you walk with him.

“No, don’t trust it,” he mutters to you.

He tugs at your sleeve to keep track of you as the two of you speed walk across the street. You look Dieter up and down; this feels so incredibly strange for him. Sure, Dieter has gone on rants before about radiation from cellphones and technology messing up his brain, but he was never this paranoid.

“You should text Ben we‘re across the street, he’ll be looking for us,” Dieter commands.

“Ok?” juggling your cellphone and texting Ben where to meet you and Dieter, you take a seat with the actor watching his fingers drum against the table. He doesn’t order any food nor a drink and even when Ben joins you two he refuses any appetizers. Ben looks concerned at you, Dieter never turns food down.

“I don’t think it was the food, but I can’t be too cautious here,” he states as he leans in to you and Ben.

“Careful with what?” Ben questions.

“With the takeover of my mind,” Dieter lifts his hands up to his head and frizzles his hair out. Ben looks towards you as you lift your shoulders in a shrug.

“He’s been weird all morning.”

Ben nods in understanding, he looks back to his friend, “Right, what are you on?”

“I’m not on anything! Everything from the past tonights is back this morning!”

“Past tonights?”

“Yesterday is today as yesterday’s yesterday is also today,” Dieter states to Ben in the most serious tone you’ve ever heard him use.

Ben draws a circle into his temple, a pattern you’ve seen him do many different times before, “You mean your days are repeating?”

“That sounds like—” you begin to speculate.

“It is not déjà vu,” Dieter interrupts you.

“Ok, ok, if you’re so sure.”

“Maybe you just need to rest, drink some water—”

“Tried it, didn’t work,” Dieter interrupts Ben. “Look, there's an infinite amount of possibilities where someone could have bugged me, slipped something in my drink, and abducted me.”

“What?” you and Ben say in unison.

“The stylist could have slipped something in my hair, maybe the photographer zapped me with an invisible ray from their camera,” Dieter throws air quotes around the word camera as he continues ranting. “The hotel might have put a bug in my food or some serum! Someone at the party this evening could have slipped a weird serum into the appetizers.”

“Dieter there is no way—”

“After the party, I walked around the village. Someone could have easily abducted me and shot me with some shit!”

“Why would anyone want to bug you or drug you Dieter?”

“I know shit Ben, I know lots of shit.” Dieter leans back in his chair confidently.

“Like what,” Ben counters, clearly irritated now.

Dieter doesn’t say anything at first, but just squints at Ben, “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

Ben sighs and throws his arms into the air, “Listen I’m late for—”

“Your anniversary trip with your wife,” Dieter interjects with a smug smile. “You wanna know how I know that?”

“Because for the first time in a long time you actually care about someone else's life other than your own,” Ben answers. “I’m leaving, good luck with this crap.”

The smugness falls off Dieter’s face as Ben leaves the table and restaurant. He’s never talked to Dieter in that way before.

“Look I have no clue what’s going on with you, but I really think you should go see a doctor,” you place your hand on his arm and squeeze. Dieter’s eyes fall from where Ben was standing to you in what you would almost call a broken lost puppy look. You actually find yourself feeling bad for your stubborn actor. “Listen, I’ll cancel your appearance at the party as long as you go get checked out. How does that sound?”

Dieter’s lip quivers and he settles his hand on yours, he doesn’t squeeze but his large, warm hand holds yours. It’s been a long time since he’s held another person’s hand. He’s missed the feel of this sincere touch.

“Can you do that, Dieter? For me?” you question him with a small smile.

He makes eye contact with you and nods, “Yeah, I can do that.” He finds a local doctor to talk to, describing in the best and simplest way possible what his past days have been like. The doctor listens well enough, but doesn’t have much input to give Dieter, other than rest and relaxation. Dieter doesn’t think this is a bad idea. When he gets back to his room, he books a vacation in the Bahamas. He’ll sleep in the Caribbean, lounge while getting some messages, maybe even have a sunny detox. Dieter doesn’t get to sleep for a while though, he’s jittery and nervous. He walks in circles, even cleaning his room of trash, and squeezing his arm where your hand had touched him. Eventually exhaustion takes him, and sleep comes.

June 25

“If you wake up and don’t want to smile,” Dieter’s eyes bug out as he listens to the radio. “If it takes just a little while,” the rigid actor raises up as the alarm blares Fleetwood Mac, “Open your eyes and look at the day, You'll see things in a different way.” He scans the room realizing that everything he cleaned is now trashed again. “Don't stop thinking about tomorrow,”

Dieter bites down at his pillow as he watches his phone. “Don't stop, it'll soon be here,” Buzzing alive, a text comes in. “It'll be better than before,” Dieter leans over to look at what the text says, fully knowing what the message will read. “Yesterday's gone, yesterday's gone” He reads the words “YOUR LATE.”

Dieter spends his whole day at the bar talking to his new friend, the bartender.

June 25

The now melancholy actor spends his day high off his ass in his hotel room. He orders room service and doesn’t bother to answer his cell or the door when you and Ben try to get to him. He watches porn, reruns of black and white shows, and a nature documentary. Of course he indulges in all the drugs he has. They won’t go to waste. He even paints a little. He can’t remember the last time he painted.

June 25

Dieter starts his painting again, his hotel room has a large wall that is perfect for a mural. He orders and over eats food from the hotel’s restaurant, the bar down the street, the restaurant around the corner, and any restaurant or bar that looks remotely interesting. He’s never seen so much food in his life. The mural doesn’t look half bad either.

June 25

His arts skills are definitely coming back, with each day he practices more. He eats more, drinks more, and smokes more.

June 25

After painting another mural, he ventures out of the hotel. He explores the village for the first time. He avoids you and Ben but does find a pretty woman that wants to dance with him. He’s unsure at first. But some drinks are in his system and he swings around the bar widely with a pretty lady in his arms. He dazzles her with stories of Hollywood, and asks if she wants to see his mural. Soon he asks to paint her as she smokes his joint. The paint swirls around her naked body smoothly just as smooth as his cock slides in and out of her. He hasn’t been laid in forever, he indulges in this connection for the time being, even though he knows this woman isn’t truly interested in him for the real him. Also she won’t be here when he wakes in the morning.

June 25

He’s never robbed anything before, never stolen anything in his life. But boy was it a crazy rush when he took the entire cash register from the bar. He doesn’t need the money and he doesn’t know how to open the register to even get the money. But he feels crazy alive right now. He also understands how uncomfortable a jail cell really is now. At least he got his accordion lesson done earlier in the day.

June 25

An octopus actually touched Dieter’s arm! Honestly, scuba diving isn’t as hard as he thought it would be. Playing an accordion underwater is hard though.

June 25

He’s slept with a few different men and women in the last couple of weeks, but he wonders about you. He’s seen you on the beach, at a party a few nights in a row now. That one time he came up to you and flirted with you after he had ignored you the entire day, you had slapped him the second he uttered a word. He doesn’t blame you for that, but he likes to think his persuasive skills have gotten better, although you know him in a much more personal way than anyone else. He’s watched you drink, eat, laugh, and dance on the sandy beach. The stars glittered above you as you were completely carefree. No responsibility, not babysitting the asshole Dieter Bravo. He wonders if this is what you’re like most of the time, so free and lovely. He’s never seen you dance before, never seen you throw your head back and laugh. But now he has, a couple of different times since he’s been stuck in this loop. He pauses and watches every time he finds you down at the beach.

Dieter wants to join in and encircle you into his arms, swing you around as the musicians play on and on. He wants to make you laugh till your sides hurt. He wants you to place your hand on him again and squeeze. He knows he has no right, he knows so much about you now that he’s watched you for days. It isn’t right to just try to have you out of the blue. How well do you know him, he wonders. You know his habits but you’ve never talked about art or experiences. You haven’t really even talked about movies or desires. He’s got so many questions for you now, but you hate him.

June 25

Dieter returned to the scheduled interview, photoshoot, and party. You watched the man enter the room and announce to everyone that he was sorry for arriving late and was very appreciative to everyone for their patience. You thought that maybe the man was high, on some uppers perhaps. But he jumped into the makeup chair, giving the stylist instructions on what he thought was a good look for a Mediterranean look. You watched as he made easy small talk and pointed out different clothes he would like to wear for the photoshoot. Soon the man caught your eye in the mirror and motioned you over with a smile.

Of course you come, you’re curious for what had put him in a good mood. As soon as you shuffle over to him, he clasps your hand in his own hands.

“Can you do me a favor?” His dimples are on full display as a small smile turns to you.

“Well of course,” you stutter out confused then quickly backtrack, “I mean it is my job as your assistant isn’t it?”

“It is and you’ve always done such a great job at it. I want you to call Ben and tell him to get on his plane, his wife must be pissed that he’s late for their anniversary trip.”

“Oh yeah sure I’ll let him know.”

“And order some flowers and chocolates wherever they’re staying, please.”

“I’ll get right on that.”

You walk away from Dieter as you text Ben and order him and his wife some gifts. He’s excited to leave early but also curious at Dieter’s new attitude, but not curious enough to stay and question it. You stand back and watch the man at work, his poses are on point today as he communicates well with the photographer. Even the interview goes great as he gives fun and interesting answers to the interviewer. It would be any normal day for anyone else but for Dieter Bravo this is something else. He’s lively and talkative. He even gives you a few smiles and a wink throughout the process as he catches you staring at him.

His lively mood doesn’t falter. He buys you lunch and asks you question after question about you. What’s your family like? How was your childhood? What did you want to be growing up? He gets on the subject of school, where you ask him about acting. You are surprised to find that he went to school for art instead. You're even more surprised to find that he’s truly passionate about painting, offering to give you some lessons in the future. He snaps a quick picture of the two of you together with the sea in the background and sends it to his mom. Soon enough the clock ticks by and the two of you head to the party. Dieter swings back into superstar mode where he regales party guests with behind the scene stories. He makes everyone laugh and even takes a few different people dancing. Honestly, you begrudgingly say you're a little jealous that his attention is elsewhere. You admit that you found the talk the two of you shared this noon was really fun, but now as Dieter spirals his way through conversations, you see a glimmer of loneliness in the man. You can tell he’s drained from too much people time.

In all the excitement, you catch Dieter’s eye several times. He was having a bit of fun here at the party but going over the same conversations again and again is getting to him. He finds himself constantly looking over towards you; he would rather get back to that conversation the two of you were having earlier. He looks at his clock and realizes there’s 30 minutes left of the party. Good enough. Dieter calls over the staff and owner of the restaurant for a picture and leaves the party for where you're standing. Two drinks in hand, you were always well prepared for him.

“Tired?” you ask as Dieter takes one of the drinks from your hands and gulps it down.

“You have no idea,” he sighs out as he leans on the balcony railing.

“Actually I probably do.”

Your charge stops for a moment and then drops his head, “Yeah you definitely do, sorry.”

You spit your drink up a little, that’s the first time you’ve heard Dieter Bravo say sorry.

“Say again?”

Dieter looks up at you and leans forward. His hair still has the elegant curls from the stylist this morning and his lonesome yet playful eyes lock on yours. His broad shoulders almost entices you to run your hands up them as he blocks out your view of the party. A hand engulfs your elbow and with a small circular motion of his thumbs, you find yourself almost leaning into him.

“Do you wanna leave early and go for a walk? Just the two of us. I know this small hole-in-the-wall bar on the other side of the village.” There’s almost a hopefulness to Dieter’s eyes as he holds you to him.

“I…well…actually,” you stumble out your words trying to figure out if Dieter just asked you out or if something else is going on. Before your mind makes a decision, your phone buzzes with a text from a friend about another party going on. Dieter glances at your phone and backs off of you, part of you misses his warmth but the other part has no clue what is going on.

“Listen Dieter, I’ve got plans already and I need an early start tomorrow.”

Dieter nods his head as he looks down at his shoes, “It’s fine. Go be with friends, I’ll take a rain check.”

You watch him walk away, feeling like you kicked a small puppy. Maybe you should invite him to the party, but he’s always declined the offer in the past. You're conflicted if you’ve just turned down Dieter Bravo after such a good day. He honestly was so different and refreshing today, you would have guessed it was someone else. You look back down at your text and then glance back to where Dieter had disappeared. Maybe a night grabbing a few drinks with friends would help clear your head, you’ll figure this out tomorrow.

Dieter ends his day in bed again. The mural on his wall is of you sitting on the beach with stars glittering above you. He’s seen it in real life so many times, it’s all too easy for him to paint. The kit-kats run out soon into his gloomy state of couch potato. Even the Italian greyhounds he stole from some old lady while on his walk back to the hotel aren’t cheering him up as they cuddle around him.

June 25

From then on forward, Dieter goes to the interview, photoshoot, and party more often. He doesn’t go everyday though, he skips a few in favor of reintroducing himself to the locals. The actor goes around the village, memorizing everyone's names to memory. He asks questions of their wants and desires, their daily lives, their troubles and accomplishments. Dieter was a man that acted out stories but it wasn’t till these last couple days did he realize that everyone has a story to tell. It makes him wonder what your story is. He’s so desperate to find out.

Finally a day comes where he’s able to convince you to take it easy, he already knows his schedule, he can take care of himself. You insist on following him, just in case, which does please him. He starts the day grabbing coffee for the whole team, gifting the stylist new brushes, helping clean the photographer’s lenses, and reassuring the interviewer she should argue for more pay. At the hotel’s restaurant, he jumps into the kitchen helping the chefs prepare for the lunch time rush. On the walk to the afternoon party, he offers to climb a ladder for an older man to hang a sign. Dieter even jumps in to help a young woman with a small fussy child carry her groceries. At the party Dieter gathers a large crowd of party goers, giving them all relationship advice. He unexpectedly stays longer at the party than necessary, helping the staff clean, and thankfully saves the life of a man choking on leftover food. He walks you to your party on the beach, which you have no clue how he knows it was going on.

For a moment you contemplate asking him to join the party, but Dieter pushes you forward, stating he has a few friends to catch up with. You wave him off, almost sad to be turned down with your unannounced question. But you watch the once grumpy and lazy actor confidently stride off. He stops abruptly to catch a cat as she falls off a ledge above his head, sneezing as he settles her down to the ground and gives you one last wave for the night.

Unbeknownst to you, Dieter goes on with his night to give dance instructions at a small bar. He amazes the crowd and reignites the love life of a few couples. But Dieter has yet to reignite your love. He’s got time to figure you out though, plenty of time that he’s happy to spend with you.

June 25

You walk onto the set expecting people milling about their jobs, but as you open the doors to the room, you find it dead quiet and void of people. Except for one person. Dieter Bravo stands in the middle of the room with a large bouquet of your favorite flowers. He looks good in a light matching floral shirt and pants, his curls just gliding behind his ears, the exact way you’ve liked it the most.

“You’re late,” Dieter calls out to you with a large smile on his face.

“By 5 minutes. But you’re…” you shake your head in disbelief.

“Early. I know. Don’t expect it everyday though, this is hard work getting up on time.”

You giggle at his pouty lips, “So if we’re on time then where is everyone else?”

“Day off, or rather I told them to reschedule to a new location that would make sense for the movie they're interviewing me for. These are for you.” Dieter hands you the bouquet of colorful flowers. You smell the flowers without thinking and look up at him.

“What are you up to?”

“I want to treat you to a day off, and the only way you ever have a day off is if I take the day off.” Dieter doesn’t blink or look away from you as he states it so plainly, like he already knows the answer to the question before you think to ask. “I’ve got the whole day plan, and I know you love plans and schedules so,” he nods his head towards the doors, “let's get going.”

He doesn’t leave much room for argument as he leads you two away from the hotel, and you really don’t bother to put up much of an argument as you're so curious as to what Dieter is up to. As he tools your hand into the crock of his arm, he guides you through the Italian village streets. The two of you walk the narrow cobblestone passageway, past locals that call out to Dieter and thank him for various reasons.

You lean into Dieter after an old woman had kissed him on both cheeks, “What have you been up to Mr. Bravo?”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“We’ve gone past at least five different people who’ve thanked you for different things.”

“Ah well, I got some work done this morning before I met up with you.”

You poke his side, making him flinch in mock anguish, “Work?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Dieter brushes you off as he opens the door for you to a dingy looking home. “Just go straight back, I’ll be right behind you.”

Pausing for a moment, you step forward and do as he instructed, and only shake just a little when you feel the warmth of his palm on the small of your back. Dieter points to a pair of open doors around the corner, continuing your descent. As you walk through the doors, you're greeted with a lovely view of the village and sea. A gasp escapes you as you walk to the balcony and take in the view. A minute goes by before a tap on your shoulder brings you back to Dieter waiting patiently behind you.

“I know you’ve been wanting to see a better view of the town, so I thought breakfast and a view would do,” he motions to a small table with a beautiful display of breakfast treats. Even though your stomach calls for food, it's the mural behind the food that gets your attention. On full display of the building's outer wall is a bright and vibrant mural of the village and sea under a blanket of stars. You trace your fingers on the waves as Dieter takes a pastry from the table.

“Do you like it?”

“It’s gorgeous. Whoever the painter is did an amazing job capturing the beauty of the village,” you continue tracing the mural as you feel Dieter step into your space.

“Thank you. Took a lot of practice but I think I nailed it.”

“You did this!”

“Yeah I like to think of it as a vision into the future,” he eyes the particular part of the mural, he continues to eat his pastry, where a silhouette of a woman stands on the beach.

“A vision? I didn’t know you were a soothsayer.”

“You’ll find out later, I promise.”

You look at him now with your mouth hanging open. Dieter chuckles and pops that last part of his pastry into your mouth, licking his own fingers as he stares back at you.

“Come on, we can’t let these pastries go to waste,” he says as he takes your hand and sets you down to the table.

The rest of the day goes by in a similar manner, Dieter surprising you at every turn. He takes you to the beach and builds a giant sandcastle with you, amazing you with incredible hidden talent. Soon enough the two of you grab lunch with a local fisherman, who takes you out to sea where you both catch your own food. Dieter stands behind you guiding you on how to handle the fishing pole when the fish bites. Surprisingly, you don’t mind his arms wrapped around you. For the rest of the day, the two of you spend wandering the village, in and out of conversations with many random individuals who strike up a conversation with Dieter, only for him to give them apologies and return his attention to you.

He asks about your life, you ask about his. It doesn’t take long to get lost in conversation with Dieter, all too easy to get lost in the depths of his eyes and it feels like he’s gotten lost in your eyes as well. You don’t shy away from him when he pulls you under his arm for the walk. Maybe your mind is reeling with hundreds of questions about what is going on with Dieter Bravo but the day is too perfect to bother.

Soon enough dinner comes, and chef Dieter makes you a delicious sandwich. You laugh at him for making such a show out of his culinary skills, or lack of them, as he fumbles around the kitchen he’s rented out. You make a trade, you’ll teach him how to cook if he teaches you how to paint. He locks in the deal with a kiss to your hand.

Only a text on your phone startles you from your rose colored haze, a party on the beach. You look up at Dieter as he watches you with total adoration. He’s patient as you place your phone away and you smile at him.

“Do you wanna go to a party on the beach? Maybe just for a little while,” you slowly reach for his hand and interlock your fingers to his. The smile on his face is small, but it’s all too sweet to not see as he tells you yes.

Other members of the entertainment industry are at the party, but it’s a low key vibe. People sitting and lounging as music flirts through the air. Many friends welcome you and Dieter to the party, making small talk and trading stories. One local from nearby asks Dieter to play for them. You’re confused since you know Dieter doesn’t play an instrument, but the local brings out an accordion. The actor that you thought you knew so well plays a playful and lively tune for the party. People cheer and laugh, dancing to the beat as a band from the bar nearby comes in to join Dieter. You watch in amusement as this once frumpy and drugged out actor now leads the charge in a heart fluttering chorus. He’s lost himself in the music with the rest of the band, but as soon as the song is over his eyes make contact with you. You can’t help yourself to cheer and clap loudly like the rest of the party, which makes Dieter duck his head with a smile ready on his face.

The band takes over and Dieter leaves the spotlight to be with you, pulling you down the beach always to get away from the crowd. You cling to him as your bare feet splash through the water. Looking up at the lovely man, you watch as Dieter stops and places his hand on your hip, drawing you close as his other hand holds onto yours.

“One dance? Please?”

“I would never say no to a dance with you Dieter,” you respond as you two sway through the surf. The band’s music is just barely in range for your quiet tango. Placing his chin against your head, you're tucked into the warmth of Dieter's chest, a place you never thought you would be. It feels nice and just so right to be here with him.

“I’ve wanted this for a while now.” Dieter breaks the silence with his soft, low voice.

“Us dancing?” your voice is equally as hushed.

“Holding you.”

You don’t say anything right away, too in awe to talk. “Since when?” you squeak out.

His chest rumbles with a chuckle, “You know I’m not so good with time anymore, but I feel like it’s been too long.”

“Oh, you’ve never really given me any hints.”

“No, I suppose I didn’t in your memory.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’ve been swimming with you; dancing with you. We’ve had several lunches and dinners together. Built tons of sandcastles, even painted together. But I was never able to hold you till this very night,” he strokes your back as you look up at him.

“Are these all dreams you’re talking about?”

“Dreams, visions, past lives, either or. Take your pick. It doesn’t matter. After the last couple of…weeks… I’m not sure. I'm only certain of one damn thing any more,” he places your hand on his shoulder as he tucks your hair behind your ear and holds your face to his.

“What’s that?”

“I’m going to have to relive this day over and over again, but I swear each day I’ll do everything in my power to show you that I’m utterly in love with you. Even if you don’t remember it in the morning, and I have to repeat every detail from tonight again, I swear it’ll be worth it to have this chance to hold and love you again.” A stray tear leaves Dieter's eye, but he doesn’t look sad, just completely enthralled and devoted.

And even as you don’t quite understand what he’s saying, you completely understand what he’s feeling. The mingling of your breaths, the entwine limbs, and unbreakable stare draws you into the man you once didn’t have a care for. Now, you really can’t help yourself as Dieter waits for your first move. You kiss him, smashing your lips to his. He envelops his arms around you wholly as you push your fingers into his hair. You’ve waited so long to run your fingers through his curls, enticing a moan from his lips to yours. He’s hungry you can tell, as he drives his tongue against your lips and tangles against yours. Just as you break apart for air, Dieter picks you up and swings you around against the surf, causing you to scream with delight as his lips attack your neck. It’s the scrape of his beard that causes you to gasp out.

“Dieter!”

He stops abruptly, “Do you wanna have sex with me?”

“Fuck yeah.”

It didn’t take long for you two to get back to his hotel room, Dieter incredibly thankful he remembered to clean this morning. Not a second is wasted as he strips yours and his clothes off grabbing kisses in between layers. The man can’t stop tasting you. You were, beyond a doubt, the best thing he has tasted, and he had really only tasted your lips so far. Without thinking, he lifts your naked body off the ground and places you, rather ungracefully, on the bed. Giggling into your hands, he kisses up your curves, between your breast to each nipple, and then up your neck and finally your lips. Taking a moment to center himself, he rests his head against yours.

Placing your hands to the sides of his head, you nudge your nose against his whispering to him that you were on the pill, which springs him into action again. Kissing and biting down your body to your nipple, he swirls his tongue around your perked peek until you arch your back into his mouth.

“Please Dieter!”

His large hand rounds and squeezes your breast as he lowers his mouth completely to suck on your reddening nipple until he believes your other nipple needs attention. Digging your nails into the bed, you huff out a moan while you throw your head back. He hums as he rocks himself against your thigh. Before he continues down your body, he rests his face between your breasts and squeezes them to his face. You realize what he’s doing and laugh, trying to gently push his face away.

“Did you expect me to be 100% a gentlemen tonight?” Dieter smiles up at you from between your boobs.

“No, I know you're really a goofball at heart,” you laugh and pat his head.

Dieter launches up to you, smashing a kiss to your lips and quickly leaving you a dopey smile as he bites at your belly then your thighs. He lifts one leg over his shoulder as his arm circles around your leg, warming your belly as he presses you down to the mattress. You don’t get much warning when you jerk and gasp out as you feel a large flat tongue lick up your folds and swirl around your clit. Your hips try to desperately buck up to Dieter’s hot mouth, unable to move under his firm hold. His tongue and mouth continue their dance upon your clit as he slowly strokes at your soft and wet folds with his free hand. Gently, one finger enters you as all your fingers tangle into Dieter’s hair. You feel him moan and rumble against you as you also feel a second finger fill you. Quickly Dieter’s fingers get to work, stroking at your walls causing you to flutter and echo his name to the walls around you both.

“Shit sweet girl, you taste so good when I have you like this.”

“Fuck Dieter.”

“Sorry not yet,” Dieter kisses your clit, “not done tasting you, but I’ll give you what you want soon.” He mumbles as he runs around your clit. “Shit you smell so good too.”

You're about to comment that no one’s ever said that to you before when, instead of words, another moan and curse comes out of your mouth just as Dieter presses three fingers now deeper against your walls. Returning a small amount of attention back to him, you tug at his hair.

“Fuck baby, I’m close,” you cry out as you feel the rolling pressure of his fingers against your quivering walls. “Can you get me there Dieter, can you get me there pretty boy?”

Dieter thrusts his erection deep into the mattress, “Shit, yes ma’am.”

Changing position a little, he takes his hand off you to trace tight circles around your clit while his tongue starts to lick at your fluttering pussy. His other hand pulls out of you so that he can push back into you, over and over. Now that there isn’t any force holding you down, your hips shift to the timing of his hand just as your nails run through Dieter bemused hair. Quickly the bright throbbing heat in you builds up and over as you cry out to Dieter while he carries you over the edge with his constant pressure. Backing his hand out of your heat, he licks and lightly bites at your soaking entrance till you plead for him to come up to you.

Obediently Dieter climbs up your body to give you a needy look as his desire is still wanting.

“Can I fill you up more, sweet girl? Do you think you can take more of me?”

It’s not really a question from him. It’s more so that he is pleading with you to take more of him as you feel him throb against your stomach.

You sigh out a “please” as he kisses you and takes hold of himself to slowly enter you. Pushing in little by little, the man pulls back and pushes in again. He lifts up his head and closes his eyes as he repeats the action. While he hovers over your body, lost in the tight space of your heat, you nudge your nose against the column of his neck, kissing and nipping at his freckles. Soon you feel even more full than you did with his fingers, as he starts to pound into you. You hang on to his shoulders, digging your nails into his skin.

“Feel so good Dieter, please don’t stop.”

Dieter groans and lowers his head into your neck. “Shit, think I’m gonna try to fuck you every day after this.” He throws your leg over his hip, not stopping his hips from snapping to yours. “Don’t care I have to do this whole day over again, I fucking will for you.”

You don’t understand what he means, but you can’t bring your brain to stop and piece it out as you feel the heat start to build again. Quickly you start to chant his name until he fully pulls out of you and flips you to your stomach. Loaming over you, Dieter’s arm comes around you as he leans over your shoulder, placing kisses to your back.

“Is this ok?” he asks while smoothing a hand over your hip.

“Only if you start fucking me again,” you smile back at him.

He gives you a quick sharp nip to your shoulder before lifting you ass to the air and pushing himself back into you. He doesn’t wait for you to adjust as he hastily picks up the rhythm he had before, but now brings his arm around to circle your clit. You can’t help yourself from pushing back into Dieter as he moans into your shoulder.

“Think you can cum again for me, pretty girl. Think you can let me fuck another organism out of you. Maybe let me fill you up?”

You gasp out and hang on to the headboard ahead of you.

“Will you let me fill you up? Would you let me fill you up tomorrow night too?”

“Shit Dieter, yes, do it now!”

“Fuck, well you’re the one who likes to plan.”

He buries his face into your hair as he picks up the pace of his fingers against your clit, and you begin to cry out begging for him. You close your eyes tight as a bright light hits your eyes and your cunt squeezes Dieter tight. He curses and his pace falters as he tries to continue pushing in and out of you. Not long after you finish, Dieter finishes inside you as well. You both collapse in a pile together, slugout in each others arms. After some more kissing and light petting, Dieter easies himself out of you and lifts out of bed for a wash cloth. He comes back to bed, finding you looking over his fluffy green robe. After you're both cleaned up, he helps you into the robe, liking how it engulfs you. Together, you both fall asleep after basking in the afterglow of the best day of your life. Dieter holds you, kissing to sleep, he tries all night to not fall asleep, afraid that you won’t be in his arms tomorrow.

He does swear, “Even if you're gone tomorrow, I’ll do the whole damn day over just to hold you like this again.” He closes his eyes and leans his head to yours, “But please be here tomorrow.”

June 26

“Can you understand me, baby don't you hand me a line,” a muffled moan calls out into a pillow. “Although it doesn't matter, you and me got plenty of time,” Dieter flops over to the side table, reaching his hand out. “There's nobody in the future, so baby let me hand you my love,” he knocks several things off the side table, completely missing the alarm. Groggily sitting up and leaning over he looks at the clock for the switch. Dieter shakes his head, he’s gotten too used to just unplugging and throwing the thing across the room, “Oh, there's no step for you to dance to, so slip your hand inside of my glove.”

“Hey, don’t turn it off, let it play. I love this song,” a rough sleepy voice speaks out. Dieter turns quickly to see you, smiling and cuddled up in his green robe.

“Hold me, hold me, hold me.”

Dieter places the radio down gently, “This is one of their better songs,” he whispers back to you as he tangles himself back into bed, back into you.

#dieter bravo #dieter bravo/reader #dieter bravo/ you #Pedro Pascal #the bubble #dieterbravo/you #dieterbravo/reader

38 notes · View notes

auteurdelabre · 5 months

Text

A Little Sun pt 1 DieterBravo x f!Reader

rating: 18+ (future chapters)

Pairings: Dieter Bravo x f! Reader (no detailed physical descriptions, no use of y/n)

summary: As a PA to megastar and mega man-child Dieter Bravo you've had your fair share of headaches. Getting accidentally pregnant with his baby however takes the cake, especially when he offers to pay you to be his surrogate. You just weren't expecting to fall in love with him along the way. (plot prompt inspired by 'Daddy Dieter' by @absurdthirst on Ao3 - read their story, its really wonderful!)

warnings/tags: Unplanned Pregnancy, Surrogacy, Family Issues, Sweet!Dieter, Drugs, Alcohol, Getting Drunk, Boss/Employee Relationship,

a/n: I am actively tryin' to make everyone a Dieter Bravo stan. He is slept on in this fandom istg.

-------------------------------------------------------------

Part 1: First Trimester

"With every newborn baby, a little sun rises." - Irmgard Erath

-------------------------------------------------------------

Being actor Dieter Bravo's assistant comes with many boons. You get to hob-knob with celebrities, attend galas and parties, get to travel the world and you get paid decently. The downside?

You have to work for Dieter man-child Bravo.

He's an impossibly immature, inconsiderate man who's flakier than your mother's pie dough.

When he isn't being a walking hypocrite who won't eat processed foods but has no problem taking copious amounts of coke, he's making your life a living hell. He loves to party and experiment with whatever drug is in vogue. Too often you're scraping him off a club floor and dragging him home.

One memorable experience was flying by private jet over to Moscow to bring him home for the Academy Awards (which he fucking won because some people have all the luck) after he'd followed some hot Russian male model there and Dieter was convinced he was going to give up his citizenship and stay in Russia forever.

Your mother cannot stand him. She reads about his exploits in the tabloids. She thinks your job is a waste of your talents.

She's not wrong.

But this will all be worth it when you have enough to pay off the mortgage on your family home. As soon as you can your mother can stop working herself into an early grave pulling double shifts at the hospital.

You'll be able to move out into your own place and then you'll be able to finally go back to school and finish your Masters program. The one you had to quit so you could help support your mom after your father unexpectedly died.

You'd been lucky to land the gig with Bravo. Plucked from the group of giggling models who whispered how excited they were to have Dieter Bravo as their boss. You held your resume and reference letters tightly, your mind focused on the salary listed.

When you walked into the office to be interviewed with your long sleeves, high neckline and impressive resume his manager had been intrigued. When she asked what your favorite Dieter Bravo movie was and you had replied "Uh, I don't think I've seen many of his movies" she had given a wry smile and declared you a perfect fit for the job and hired you on the spot.

Dieter had been disappointed. You remember the way his eyes roved over your body in your frumpy clothes and your serious face. He had been looking for fun. You weren't fun.

You were a planner. You were someone who liked doing her job well. And your job was him. Getting him to set on time, organizing his appointments, dropping him with his publicist Diane so she could stop him from saying dumb shit to the tabloids when they cornered him and asked about his ex boyfriend or girlfriend.

You put up with a lot of his shit.

You also listen to a lot of the shit he says. The theories he has about the Hollywood elite, the creative outlets he wants to pursue, the scripts he has to read. You've learned to tune out his really stupid ideas.

The idea of fatherhood comes to Dieter after his latest relationship crashes and burns. In typical Bravo fashion it's a spur of the moment event. A decision with no forethought. He mentions it casually over breakfast as you run through his schedule for the day.

"I'm gonna be a dad."

"Oh yeah? Who's the lucky lady?" you reply drolly, bringing up his schedule on the tablet in your hand.

"Dunno. Haven't decided yet." He leans back in his chair, serene smile on his face.

You keep in the eye roll and go over what he's doing that day. He continues looking dreamily off into the distance, not paying attention.

You assume that this baby thing is similar to the goat therapy sanctuary: an amusing idea that strikes him as fun and that will exit as quickly and quietly as it arrived in his brain.

But a month later Dieter comes home in a foul mood slamming the door to his large home behind him.

"I thought you women wanted commitment!"

You look up from your desk. You've been busy all morning managing his socials. "Huh?"

"You remember my ex? Annika?"

"Yeah."

"We broke up because she wanted kids and I didn't," Dieter says throwing himself dramatically into the chair opposite you. "So I figure she's perfect for this! I went to see her and told her I wanted to settle down and have a baby."

"And what did she say?"

"To leave her dentist's office and never contact her again."

"Wait," you lower your phone. "You went to her dentist's office?"

"That's where her fiancé said she was and I couldn't wait!"

"Her fiancé told you that?"

"Yeah," Dieter groans, not seeing how it was inappropriate. "I'm getting older by the second. I don't wanna be too old to be a dad."

You hold in a sigh, seeing that he's beside himself. Dieter is a successful actor, this is true. But he's just as famous for his hard-partying and wild sex-capades. No woman in her right mind would willingly have a child with such a man.

"If you're that desperate to be a dad then adopt," you say trying to hold in your disdain. You don't think Dieter Bravo should be anywhere near anything to do with a child. And you know he won't be approved for adoption so there's no harm in suggesting it.

"No. I want to pass on my genes."

You give him a raised brow in return. The same genetics that give him his impossibly luscious hair and beautiful brown eyes are also responsible for his love for drugs and spontaneous decision making.

"What did your friend Becky do again?" Dieter asks sitting cross-legged in his chair. "The one who couldn't get pregnant with her husband?"

You're shocked he remembers this tidbit of your life at all. You kind of just assume he's not listening all that closely when you talk about a topic that doesn't directly involve him.

"Surrogacy. She paid someone else to carry her kid."

"Amazing," Dieter says slapping the desk in delight. "That's what I'll do! Obviously I want them to have all my hot characteristics. But I need the ying to my yang so the kid's balanced ya know?"

You don't mention that this is dangerously close to playing with eugenics. Instead you just nod, reading your work phone and then typing in more info onto the tablet.

This is a Bravo phase. It'll pass.

He gets like this about projects that initially interest him, but sooner or later he'll be pulled back into the lure of partying and drugs and easy men and women to warm his bed.

Dieter is watching you, studying you as you work. You've been his assistant for a year and you're good at what you do, despite your personality clashes. He drums his fingers on the desk, eyes narrowing on you.

"I need someone educated."

"Mhmmm." You're really only half listening at this point.

"Where did you go to school again?"

"Stanford."

Dieter nods, bringing a knee to his chest and balancing against it. He reminds you of a bored child.

"Right, that's what I thought," Dieter nods, watching you type quickly away on the keyboard.

You're very good at your job, very organized, very sharp. When he arrives at galas you're always there at his elbow to remind him of everyone's name in a whisper. You've never let him down.

You're good looking, even if you try to hide it under ugly clothes and hair you don't give a second thought to. He tilts back, trying to imagine you pregnant. Would your tits get bigger? The thought is very enticing.

"Cancer or heart disease run in your family?"

This draws your attention up from your phone which you now lower to the table and fix him with a dark look.

"If you're suggesting what I think you are, you can stop right there."

"Why?" Dieter asks, eyes wide and pleading. "Our baby would be perfect! My looks, your brains!"

"Or your brains and my looks," you scoff, although you don't think you're that bad looking. "Besides, I have no interest in having children."

Especially with you.

You've never understood the appeal of children, especially babies. But if you were to be fooled into thinking that it was a wise venture the last person on the face of the planet you would do so with would be the man seated across from you.

"I'll pay you!"

You lower the cell phone to the desk, trying not to come off too judgmental. He is your boss after all and you need the work.

"You really think you're ready for fatherhood, Dieter?"

He looks affronted. "Of course I am."

"You think doing coke, partying and jetting off to different sets to film all over the world is really the best thing for a child?"

"Lots of actors have kids and-"

"You think a man who relies on his staff to keep him fed and his house clean could really understand the responsibility that comes along with raising a child?" You scoff. "Have you ever even changed a diaper?"

"I wasn't born into this life," Dieter says between clenched teeth. "I know how to make a fucking bed and change a diaper. I've changed diapers before. Remember that Mister Mom reboot I did?"

You do all you can not to burst out laughing at that. He's talking about the "parent boot camp" he and his co-star on the film had to go through in order to play parents convincingly. It included a two-day workshop on diaper changing, bottle feeding and basic child development.

Apparently it had been a little too convincing because after that movie his female co-star had claimed to have no interest in having children ever.

"You think a man who has to have a full time personal assistant and two publicists just to keep his image decent Is the kind of person who should be bringing a child into the world?" You scoff. "You think-"

"I get it!" Dieter erupts, throwing himself from his chair. "You think I'm a piece of shit that should never have children! Thanks. Message received."

You watch him stalk off, a pit in your stomach.

///

Another month rolls by, one marked by strain on your end. Ever since you're heavy chat with Dieter he's been a little colder to you, a little more withdrawn.

At least once a week before his outburst Dieter would insist you stay for dinner to run lines with him. He doesn't do that anymore. Before your fight he'd order your favorite meal from the Pad Thai place nearby and you'd spend a few hours going through the lines with him.

You liked having a front row seat to the Dieter Bravo show because he's a good actor. He likes red wine when he's running lines. He always offers you a glass and you always decline because it's unprofessional to drink on the job.

On those evenings you find it easier to chat with Dieter about life. Those evenings you don't have to worry about getting him to interviews or fetching him coffee.

He asks you about your friends and family and you tell him surface level things. He doesn't know about your mom's long hours and a mortgage you can barely afford. He doesn't need to know.

You never realized how much you enjoyed those nights until they stopped

///

You're in his town car driving with him to a Vanity Fair interview the following month. One where they hook him up to a lie detector. You're very thankful that you're not his publicist on days like this because you can only imagine what they'll be asking him and what his answers will be.

Today will be spent grabbing him coffees and making sure he doesn't pass out in the green room. For his last BuzzFeed interview he'd been so out of it you'd had to pretend he had a dental emergency and cancel at the last second.

"Okay so after this then you're meeting that French director about the Regency piece," you tell him as you check his schedule. It's packed full of things he needs to accomplish.

"Mhmmm."

Dieter has his sunglasses on despite it being overcast today in LA. He's got his black crocs on underneath striped socks and he taps them gently as he stares out the window at the passing LA landscape.

"And then we need to go for your tux fitting for the-"

"I know you think it's a terrible idea," Dieter interrupts sullenly. "But I found someone to have my baby."

You pause what you were about to say, glancing over to him in interest. He's staring at you, sunglasses tipped down his nose so he can fix you with an intense stare.

"She's a model," he tells you like a petulant child. "Stunning. My child will be beautiful."

"Congratulations," you say after a beat. Dieter gives a scoff.

"That's all you have to say?"

"Do you want me to organize a flash mob?" You say with a curl of your lip. "I hope she signed an NDA."

"Of course she did," Dieter sneers. "And since I'm paying her $75,000 for it she won't say a damn thing."

"Well then, good luck," you say with as much enthusiasm as you can muster. "I hope you and your future child are very happy."

"We will be. I'm going to love that kid to death," he tells you ardently. "My kid is never going to go without."

You can see Dieter narrow his eyes before pushing his sunglasses back up the bridge of his nose. He leans back in his seat, looking sour.

Despite everything you feel a stab of regret go through you. There are plenty of worse people in the world that have children. Because yes, Dieter is immature and yes he has his vices, but you've seen him with his young fans. He's a natural, more at ease with them than the adults who try to get too close for photos.

"I'm genuinely happy for you," you tell him. "Your child will be very lucky to have a father that loves them so much."

It never takes much to thaw the ice from Dieter Bravo. He likes being liked too much. He flashes you his megawatt smile that you return before turning back to his schedule.

"Alright so, after the tux fitting..."

///

You give a sigh, shrugging off your jacket and padding to your kitchen later that evening. Your mom is there, sipping her nightly tea. She looks more tired than you, despite you working a fifteen hour day.

She gives your forehead a kiss, telling you there's leftovers waiting for you in the fridge before brushing the hair from your eyes.

"You're home late."

"Busy day," you yawn, grabbing dinner leftovers from the fridge and nuking them in the microwave. "He had a bunch of meetings, fittings, had to run through his script a few times."

You sit down with your dinner, taking a forkful and eating quickly. You're exhausted and tomorrow will be much of the same. It's always like this around award season.

"Shocked he didn't get you to read him a bedtime story too," your mother scowls. She's never hidden her disdain for Dieter.

You smile, thinking that if Dieter knew a bedtime story was an option he would probably take it. You know he hates being alone.

The ping from your phone draws your attention. You have an alert set to Dieter’s name, just in case you and Diane need to work overtime on a Bravo-related catastrophe. But when you click on the link it goes to a Reddit thread from the Dieter Bravo subreddit. You glance and see its just one of the run-of-the-mill tabloid photos.

Every so often you're caught in them, listed as "Bravo employee". The first time it had happened you'd been mortified by the unflattering photo of you reading out Dieters schedule as he smoked a cigarette, looking off into the distance.

In these photos today much like the others you're on your phone mid-sentence. Dieter is smiling at you, hand holding his coffee by the top. It's fairly innocuous as far as photos go but the comments are anything but.

Do u think he's hooking up with his PA? Look at these photos.

It's called a job people! She has to be with him all the time.

He looks so fucking hot

Gross no.

I think he's hooking up with Luke Evans??

I will now be identifying as a coffee cup

She's literally looking at her phone. How is this anything?

It's giving secret romance look at their body language

Omg his hands are so big.

I bet he's crazy in bed.

They've totally hooked up

He's so into her look at how he's looking at her!

You roll your eyes and try not to laugh out loud. Your mother glances over at you and shakes her head.

"When are you going to quit working for that loser and go back to school?"

Your mom doesn't really understand why you quit school. She would feel like a burden if she did. But every month you pay off more and more of her mortgage, the better and freer you feel. It’ll be a few years more, but you can manage.

"Soon," you tell your mother with a small smile. “Soon.”

///

"Fuck I hate these things," Dieter says in the back of a limo a few weeks later. You're all headed to a film and theatre awards show.

"Since when?"

"Since I have to present an award and I'm sober."

“You are?”

This surprises you. Rarely has Dieter Bravo ever been sober during awards season. Even the year he won his Oscar he'd been flying high before his name was even engraved on the statuette.

You go to grab your second phone, wanting to check something about scheduling when you realize your purse is back at Dieters. Fuck. You'll have to stop there on your way back tonight.

"You look nice," he tells you offhandedly as he tugs at his bow tie. He usually sees you in jeans and a t-shirt. Tonight your hair is sleek, your makeup glamorous and your dress feminine and lacy.

"Yeah well I heard Robert Pattinson will be there tonight," you say with a small smile. "Gonna shoot my shot."

Dieter rolls his eyes dramatically at this before his publicist Diane draws his attention to some talking points.

"You need to return the watch before you hit up the after parties," she says, motioning to his wrist where he wears a diamond encrusted timepiece from Cartier.

"Aye aye captain."

When the limo pulls up to the red carpet surrounded on both sides by groups of screaming fans you see Dieter swallow.

He loves a lot about acting, but this? The rabid fans, the constant screaming of his name? It stresses him out. He's told you this many times before.

Despite your irritation with Dieter most days, there is a part of you that genuinely enjoys his company. He's creative and funny and blunt in a way that you appreciate.

"You've got this Bravo," you tell him, squeezing his hand reassuringly before pulling back. He smiles at you, slipping on his sunglasses and taking a deep breath.

You and Diane exit out the left side doors as Dieter exits out the right onto the red carpet. Screams at ear -splitting volumes begin the second his boot hits the carpet.

"I LOVE YOU DIETER!'

"OMG ITS HIM!"

"He's so hot!"

"Do you think he's gonna do something weird?"

"DIETER SIGN MY BOOBS!"

Dieter waves and smiles, ignoring the more bizarre requests. His publicist warned him if he is serious about having a kid he needs to work on his image. You wonder how long this will last.

"Dieter Bravo have my baby!" One woman of about fifty shouts holding a hand towards him in desperation. Dieter waves at her and she looks as if she might faint.

"There you go," you whisper to his back as he moves to the next photographer. "If the model doesn't work out at least you have options."

He smirks at you before going to pose for the litany of flash bulbs and photographers.

Inside the auditorium you and Diane guide Dieter behind the stage. He's paired up to present with an up and coming actress who makes moon eyes up at him. Her name is Mia Rowe and she's as gorgeous in real life as she is talented.

"Hi Mr. Bravo," she says batting her eyes up at him.

"Hi beautiful," Dieter purrs. You hold in an eye roll, sure to take note of this woman. Odds are you'll be calling her a cab from Dieter's place later this evening.

"Bravo! I was hoping you'd be here!"

A tall blonde man with perfect teeth walks over, dressed in a form fitting tux. It makes Dieters bright pink checkered tux look cartoonish, but that's kinda what you liked about it.

Corey Brigham, the UK's answer to what would happen if you created the most handsome yet unlike-able person on the planet. He and Dieter go way back, both big in the party and drug scene.

"Was hoping you'd be here," Corey says with a wink, tapping his breast pocket. "I was just heading to the bathroom if you'd care to join."

"I'm not uh, doing that tonight," Dieter says to his friend. "Just sticking to booze."

You overhear this, surprised. You wonder if this is to do with his desire for fatherhood. If so you're a little impressed. Mia looks up at Dieter with a curious expression. As if she's impressed as well, or perhaps that she's surprised Dieter isn't what she expected.

The alcohol is flowing backstage and since you're a lightweight it takes very little to have you giggling behind your hand.

You never drink at these things, but once Dieter is done presenting your off for the night. You can enjoy yourself a little bit, especially when the booze is high end and free.

When Dieter presents the award with Mia you're very proud to see him sticking to his lines and being professional.

"Fuck, I have to go," Diane announces to you midway through the show, clutching her cellphone. "My kids in the hospital, the nanny just texted."

"Oh my gosh," your hand goes to hers. "Is everything okay?"

"He's had an allergic reaction," Diane says, her eyes wet. "I'm supposed to make sure Dieter returns the watch-"

"Go!" You insist, pushing her gently. "I'll make sure he returns it."

"I couldn't-"

"Go!"

Diane shoots you a grateful smile before tucking herself when you to her purse and making a mad dash for the exit. You watch from behind the curtain as the awards ceremony starts.

You decline further drinks after the midpoint, but you're still more than a little tipsy when you walk over to wrangle Dieter at the end of the show. He usually loves to hit up the after parties and you need to make sure he returns the Cartier watch before he goes.

You tap him on his broad shoulder, interrupting what seems to be a very intense (flirtatious) conversation with a redhead with the best pair of fake tits you've ever seen.

He turns irritated at first but his face quickly blooms into amusement as you stare up at him wavering slightly on your feet.

"Well, well, well," Dieter says smugly. "Miss Professional is drunk."

"I am not!" You insist, trying as hard as you can to keep the slur from your voice. "I'm just... I just had a little."

"You're slurring."

"Am not."

"Sure," Dieter laughs. "I bet you can't even walk in a straight line."

You immediately put one foot in front of the other, making a straight line from one side of the hallway floor to the other. You shoot him a victorious smile as he claps.

"My mistake," he drawls. "You’re obviously sober. I must have just overlooked that you always walk around with your eyes half open."

The redhead, irritated at being ignored gives a small sigh through her nose before bidding Dieter a sharp goodbye. You watch her walk off and grimace.

"Well you just cost me a date for the after party," Dieter laughs, slinging an arm around your shoulders and walking towards the entrance where photographers have gathered.

"Don't do that," you grumble. "Someone'll take a photo and get the wrong idea."

Dieter straightens immediately, but the amusement is still there in his features.

"So I guess you're gonna have to be my date," he teases, knowing full well how much you hate parties and that you'd never be invited in.

"Yeah right," you sneer. "I'd rather slide down a banister of razors into a pool of lemon juice."

"Guess I'll just have to find someone to keep me company then," Dieter says before winking at you. "I'll be at the Chateau Marmont if you change your mind."

He's out the door and in his limo before you remember why you needed to talk to him.

The fucking watch!

Cartier will have a fit if it's not returned this evening and Diane will be so disappointed in you on top of a very stressful night for her.

You have to run about three blocks in your heels to find a taxi to drive you. Traffic is majorly backed up thanks to the award ceremony and it takes you over an hour to get to Chateau Marmont.

At first the front desk won't let you past the entryway even when you tell them who you work for. You collapse onto a chair and try in vain to call Dieter. Not shockingly he doesn't pick up.

It's not until Mia Rowe arrives amidst screaming paparazzi and sees you near tears that she takes your hand and cites that you're with her. You thank her profusely and make a mental note to see every one of her movies in theaters for the rest of your life.

She's walks with you into the bustling party before releasing your hand and wishing you good luck. It doesn't take long to find Dieter in the crowd, you simply have to go to where there's the most noise.

He's in the middle of the group regaling them with one of his stories about the horrors of filming cliff beasts 5. He's got his arm around a young, very good looking Latin man you think is a singer. You watch as Dieter breaks off from what he was saying to kiss the young man thoroughly, tongues dueling as the music pulse around you.

Shit that's hot.

You don’t often see Dieter in the throes of passion but you’ve walked in on Dieter with his fair share of men and women waking up after a rowdy party or two. Seeing him here though with the club music like a heartbeat in your abdomen and his full mouth pressed to the handsome man’s makes you feel… something.

The two break apart and Dieter is about to say something more to the group when his eyes land on you.

"You made it!" Dieter slurs happily when you make your way towards him. "Take a shot!"

The crowd around him cheers as he produces a shot glass for you. Everyone is either coked out of their minds or massively drunk. It makes you jealous that your job has no glamour whatsoever.

"Here! Take a shot!" Dieter insists. "It's called the Bravo because uh... I forgot. But it’s good!"

You stumble over to him, not wanting to draw too much attention to the million dollar piece he's currently wearing on his wrist. Your mouth goes to his earlobe, lower lip catching the cool metal of his earring and the young man at his left shoots daggers at you.

"Dieter no, I need to return the-"

"The watch, I know," Dieter says with a smirk, his whisky tainted breath huffing along your cheeks. "I knew you'd have to come here to get it."

That asshole.

"You think I have nothing better to do than chase you all over this fucking city?" you shout, barely heard over the thrumming music.

Dieter just looks down at you amused and drunk. "Oh loosen up. I'll give you the watch."

"Good." You hold out your hand which he promptly places a shot glass into.

"As soon as you have a drink with me."

"I can't-"

You want to deny him this, to just get the watch and go to Cartier. But you're still tipsy and you're at a Hollywood after party and wait-

"Is that Robert Pattinson?" You croak pointing to a handsome figure entering the room. Dieter squints over before nodding and smiling crookedly.

"Twilight himself."

Holy shit.

"Okay," you say, smoothing your hair back. "One drink."

///

You're both absolutely obliterated by the time you head to Dieters limo and you're not sure who is worse.

You think you must be decently in control of your faculties because at least you remember to tell the limo to stop at Cartier where a very angry employee is waiting.

"So sorry," you slur at him as you pass him the watch in its box over the counter sheepishly. He makes you sign something before you clamor back into the limo next to Dieter who is drinking straight out of a whisky bottle.

He offers you the bottle and you take a sip. Just to be polite.

Then another sip to be extra polite.

"Robert Pattinson was so nice," you tell Dieter for the third time since you left the party. "And so handsome."

"He's not that handsome," Dieter says, sounding like he's underwater. "Where d'you live?"

"Over there," you say pointing in the general direction of your house. Dieter nods, telling the impossibly patient driver to go left.

"Wait my keys are at your house," you slur, eyes only half open. "How m'I gonna get in my house?"

"You need your keys," Dieter says loudly. "Less'go! My house!"

You're both barely able to walk when you come back to Dieter's place, dropped off by his limo. Like two chums you wrap your arms around each other's shoulders and trudge up his steps.

He drops his keys twice before opening the door with a groan.

"I hate wearing this stuff," he complains, pulling at the bow tie. You want to tell him that he looks nice but your mouth doesn't seem to be keeping up with your brain.

Dieter pulls off his bowtie, letting it drop to the floor. You do the same with your shoes, hating how they feel after hours on end.

"Want a drink?"

"Yes!"

"Me too!"

You both look at each other, waiting for the other person to pour the drink before collapsing into giggles. When you finally stop Dieter trips over to his bar and pours two shots of expensive vodka, spilling all over the bar top. You clink glasses and throw the shots back.

In habit Dieter turns the sprawling television on. The first thing that pops up is the discovery Channel and a documentary on giraffes. You both make a cooing sound when the camera pans to an unsteady baby giraffe just starting to walk.

"Awww I love baby animals," you say feeling oddly emotional at the tiny creature.

"I want one so bad," Dieter hiccups beside you.

"A giraffe?"

"No a baby-baby," Dieter pouts. "Want to give it everything I didn't have as a kid."

You've never really understood why Dieter wanted a baby until recently and in this moment you find his reasoning to be impossibly sweet.

"That's so nice!" You enthuse, finding it hard not to shout. The liquor is soaring through your veins. "You're so nice!"

Dieter smiles crookedly at you. "You think so?"

"Yeah!"

"Then why are you so mad at me all the time?" Dieter sways on his feet. "I'm so nice to you."

"You are not," you say plainly. "You're obnoxious. You do drugs so often you forget you have obligations. So then I have to babysit you so you don't get sued. You make my job stressful!"

"Oh."

Dieters head pitches forward and you can see that his eyes are closed. You've hurt him. That makes your drunken brain panic.

"But you're also really nice," you slur, gripping him by the forearm and shaking. "'Member you got me that really nice painting for my birthday?"

Dieter nods. The painting in question is of a beautiful woman overlooking the sea from behind, her stance filled with determination and her hair drifting in the breeze. It's as beautiful as it is vibrant and you'd been shocked when it arrived on your doorstep the morning of your birthday. Diane had mailed it, you recognized her handwriting.

Your mom had been amazed at it when you brought it in and opened it, citing that you needed to hang it somewhere you could look at it all day. So you had, hanging it on the wall opposite your bed. It's the first and last thing you look at every day. The woman in the portrait

"That was so nice!" You pause as your fuzzy brain tries to recall. "Did I ever thank you for that?"

"You gave me a thank you card and then told me to get ready for my BuzzFeed interview," Dieter shrugs, but that's your answer right there. He pours you both another shot of vodka which you both drink quickly.

"I have it hung up in my house," you tell him honestly. "It's in my room. I look at it every day. It's so beautiful. And nice of you!"

Nice is the only adjective that your addled brain can come up with tonight. Dieter smiles at you, a sweet little smile that has you smiling back at him. But then his handsome face crumples.

"If I'm so nice why does no one want to make a baby with me? Why do I have to pay that model?"

"I dunno," you answer honestly because right now in your drunken haze you don't really get why Dieter is single. He's handsome, rich and talented. Sure he likes cocaine and partying but there are worse things, surely!

"I know why," he says in a sad rasp. "S'cuz I'm unlovable."

"That's not true," you interject with a gasp before throwing your arms around his neck. "You're wonderful!"

You've never embraced Dieter before in all the time you've worked for him. The most you've ever done is gripped his hand in yours as you guided him through a bustling club to get to an interview he was late for or squeezed his hand like in the limo.

He's warm and he smells really good like expensive cologne. He'd dressed up well for the party tonight and you can't help but nuzzle your nose into his neck. You're both so drunk you lean against each other, not noticing when Dieter's nose glides along your neck as well.

"I think it's true," he whispers softly.

You feel impossibly sad for your boss because Dieter is so nice! The painting! You wish you'd been kinder to him. Wish you'd thanked him properly.

But wait, maybe you can?

"Dieter! I'll make a baby with you!"

You can hear Dieter's heartbeat pickup under your ear pressed against his chest.

"Really?" Dieter says, swaying. "That's what I was trying to ask before but you were so mad remember? You're always so mad at me!"

"I wasn't!" You reply sulkily, pulling back from him. You don't like being told that. You cross your arms, irritably.

"Yeah you get this lil' line between your brows when you get mad at me," Dieter says, clumsily pulling off his jacket and dropping it on the ground. "It's so cute and oh- yeah just like that!"

He's pointing at your frowning face.

"I wasn't mad," you insist, feeling the need to defend yourself. "I was just..."

You trail off as Dieter grabs you by the hips and pulls them to his. He looks down at you through his thick lashes.

"You're really pretty," he tells you through a whisky-laced hiccup. "I always thought so but I couldn't tell you."

"How come?"

"You're intimidating."

You giggle because you've never seen his face this close up and his mouth is so pouty. His eyelashes are so long you've never noticed.

"You're pretty too."

He kisses you then, his full mouth warm against yours. You kiss him back, making little whimpers when he licks into your welcome mouth.

"You kiss good!" You tell him in shock when you eventually pull back.

He smiles broadly, proud of himself. You can see the dimple in his cheek poke out. You decide that this is as good a time as any to get started. Your hands go to his belt.

"Let's make the baby now."

"Okay."

///

When you wake up the next morning hung-over and still dressed in Dieter Bravo's bed you don't automatically assume the worst. His arms are around you and he's snoring against your neck and if you weren't feeling so wretched you might have enjoyed how his warm body felt wrapped around yours.

It's not until you pad to the bathroom and begin to retch in his fancy toilet that you realize your panties are gone.

Having heard the noise Dieter stumbles into the bathroom, shocked to see his normally composed assistant kneeling over his porcelain toilet.

He leaves a few moments as you continue emptying your stomachs of its contents. When he returns he's holding two cups of what look like a disgusting green concoction. You take one from him, leaning against the counter.

"Do you remember anything?"

"Uh, I remember dropping the watch at Cartier," you say before dropping your mouth under the sink to swish some water into your dry mouth before spitting. "I remember we came here to get my keys I think? That's when it all gets blurry."

"Did we see giraffes?" Dieter asks, blinking through puffy eyes. "I feel like I remember giraffes."

You groan at your aching head before you remember your missing underwear. You glance to see Dieter is wearing his ratty green bathrobe cinched at the waist and from what you can see nothing underneath. His bulge is prominent under his bathrobe, you can't help but notice.

Dieter is staring at you, looking concerned.

"Last night... Did we?" He makes a circle with his thumb and pointer finger before making thrusting motions into it with his free forefinger.

"I...I don't remember," you croak, eyes blinking against the light streaming in from his bathroom window. You sip the green drink slowly, surprised that it doesn't taste as disgusting as it looks.

"Me neither."

"I need a Plan B just in case," you murmur, splashing cold water on your face. "You have a lot of guests stay the night... Any chance you have a box lying around?"

When he doesn't answer right away you glance over your shoulder to see Dieter has a funny look on his face. He's staring at you, blinking.

"What?"

"What if you are pregnant?" He asks quietly. "Would you consider keeping it?"

You laugh out loud. "Of course not!"

"Not even if I paid you?" Dieter asks, his voice hinting at desperation. "I'll pay you double - no, triple what I was going to pay the model surrogate."

You're about to loudly deny this request when you remember what he was offering that model: $75,000. Triple that is over $200,000. Yeah your life will be hell for nine months but then you'll be able to start a new one debt free. Your mom will be able to retire. You'll be able to go back to school.

And it's not like you ever wanted kids in the first place so you wouldn't even get attached. All that money for an inconvenience. A blip.

You can see the hunger in Dieter's eyes, the desperation, the deep need.

He does feel an aching need for this. Because drugs are awesome, making movies is fun, the money is amazing but with no one to share it with he feels lost. It feels pointless. He's fucked his way through the Hollywood elite: men and women alike. It's boring.

He tried making a real go of it with Annika but he'd fumbled it poorly and now she hated him and moved on. She was with her old co-worker and she was happy.

In truth Dieter is terrified that he cannot make another person happy. But a miniature version of himself? He could do that.

"Three hundred thousand," you say, not thinking he'll accept it.

"Deal."

Fuck why didn't I go higher?

Dieter sees you thinking, his mouth hitching into an excited grin. "So it's yes?"

"IF I agreed to the higher price point you'd be willing to honor the agreement if I got pregnant?" You venture. "The same one you were giving to that model? The one about covering all medical expenses and taking over sole custody and all that?"

"Yes."

"And I'd get the money when?"

"As soon as the baby is born. Just like the contract states."

"And the baby would never know I was its mother?"

"Never."

You pause, blinking rapidly. This all sounds too good to be true. And in all honesty, if Dieter takes this baby and forgets it on a park bench, that's none of your business or your responsibility. As far as you're concerned, this baby is a job. A very well-paying job.

"Okay fine," you say with a shaking breath. "I'll have your baby, Bravo."

///

You can't be pregnant from one night of drunken sex you both can't remember, right? Surely not. People try months if not years to get pregnant. Just look at Becky! Plus, you're not even sure you even had sex! Sure you'd woken up feeling a bit weird, but that could have been because you were waking up next to your boss.

You're thankful your mom works erratic hours at the hospital and didn't notice your late arrival this morning. You spend most of that day pacing around your house, doing laundry but mostly just feeling fuzzy. Not hung-over fuzzy (although that's part of it). It's an overwhelmed fuzzy that makes your head feel like cotton.

Your day feels impossibly long and short all at once. You want it to hurry up so you can go to bed but at the same time you want it to stretch ad finitum because you dread seeing Dieter tomorrow.

You'd left in such a rush that morning, not taking him up on his offer of breakfast. You needed to get away from him and that bed and that house. Needed to think about your next steps.

When you mom arrives home later that night you've made dinner that you both eat in front of the TV. Your mom chooses some bad hallmark romance movie that makes you want to throw a brick through the screen.

As you sit there bored your mind can't help but begin drifting back to Dieter and that night. You wonder what the sex was like if you actually did it. Was he tender? No, you think he'd be like a jackhammer. Despite his reputation for marathon sessions you think they Dieter would be a selfish lover.

"Mom what was it like being pregnant with me?"

Your mom raises her head curiously from her palm braced against the couch arm.

"Why do you ask honey?"

"I dunno, I guess after Becky did that whole surrogate thing it made me wonder why people go through it," you lie. "It seems like so much effort for so little pay off."

"You think you were little pay off?" You mom asks with a sleepy smile. "I disagree."

"I think kids are really hard," you smile back. "And I don't really get it."

"Well you've said you're not having kids so I don't think you need to worry about it," your mom says kindly.

You know as an only child there's a lot of pressure on you to have kids. You know your mom is aching to be a grandparent, especially after your dad's death.

But she's never pressured you. When you told her you had no intention of having kids even if you found the greatest spouse she had simply hugged you and said she respected your choice.

But you don't miss how she eagerly listens to stories about Becky's babies or asks to see photos. You don't miss how her eyes linger in the baby section at Wal-Mart. You don't miss the way she smiles at the trick or treat-ers that crowd your doorway on Halloween.

"I felt wonderful being pregnant," she says suddenly. "Loved every second. Felt like a fertile goddess."

"Really?"

"Yeah."

A ping sounds on your phone and a headline from a tabloid catches your eyes as you swipe up.

Dieter Bravo signs on for period piece alongside Hollywood darling Mia Rowe.

"Oh good he booked it," you murmur to yourself. He'd been beside himself working on his British accent, desperate to land this role that would take him from goofy villain to serious, romantic leading man.

"What was that honey?" Your mom asks, now slumped over sleepily on the couch.

"Just Dieter stuff," you explain. "I have an alert set to his name."

She grunts a reply before turning back to the television.

You read the rest of the article delighted that his co-star is Mia Rowe. That's amazing news! You love her! You only hope he can keep it in his pants long enough to keep production from falling apart. You can't help but smile as you send him a text.

[10:44pm] Congrats! I just heard about the Regency drama. You must be so excited! 🎉

You rest your phone in your lap before second guessing and placing it on the couch arm next to you. You look at your stomach, amazed that you of all people could potentially be carrying life.

[10:44pm] D: I am thank u. Do u feel pregnant?

You roll your eyes so hard you're convinced you can see your brain. Is he fucking serious? Does he really not have any clue about how pregnancy works? Is he not aware that Google is free?

[10:45pm] I won't know for weeks.

[10:45pm] D: I thought women knew early?? That's what Magda says.

Magda is his ancient housekeeper. A woman who has worked for Dieter since he hit it big. She does a terrible job keeping his house tidy but there's no way he'll ever fire her.

You turn your phone off irritated. You'd been trying to be kind and supportive and he managed to overlook it entirely.

You watch your mother fall asleep on the couch, her head tilted in her hand. And for a fleeting moment you do hope that you're pregnant. You want to give this woman everything.

$300,000 would change both of your lives and it seems insane that Dieter won't even miss that amount from his bank account. It'll be a drop in the ocean for him. It makes you feel prickly and resentful by the time his next text message comes through.

[11:02pm] D: Are ur breasts tender?

[11:02pm] Fuck off.

///

Living in the fantasy of having all that money had been fun. But a large part of you hadn't really believed that you'd be pregnant.

So when the two pink lines show up on the pregnancy test that Dieter has bought you three weeks later, you shake your head and take another one.

"Well?"

Dieters muffled voice calls to you through the bathroom door. He's been sitting outside the door leaning against it for the last ten minutes.

"Gimme a second!" You bark out over your shoulder.

You take another test.

And another one.

Pregnant.

Yep. You're fucking pregnant.

You are carrying Dieter Bravo's child in you at this very second.

You pull up your t-shirt, standing and looking in the mirrors reflection. Your stomach looks exactly the same. Nothing has changed.

And yet everything has changed.

Dieter is waiting for you outside his office bathroom pacing back and forth. When he sees your wide eyes his own go owlish in his face.

You swallow before thrusting the three tests into his hands. He looks at all three, delight blooming over his face.

He falls to his knees, raising his hands in victory over his head before bellowing.

"We're having a fucking baby!"

///

After a multitude of tests by Dieter's private doctor the next week, the confirmation comes through.

You're six weeks along.

Dieter jumps on the couch, shouting excitedly as the news is announced. You simply sit stiffly in your chair as the doctor smiles at you and offers you congratulations.

"It's still early," he warns you both and that causes Dieter to stop jumping on furniture.

There's a lot of paperwork to go over that following week. Dieter has brought in his lawyer and on top of the additional NDA there's also a mountain of certain clauses, exceptions etc. Dieter offers to pay for a lawyer for you but you deny him.

You take the paperwork to a cheap lawyer in town who gives it back a week later citing that "it's thorough but fair."

No one besides you, Dieter, his manager Mark and his publicist Diane can know. Diane is handling the roll out of the birth nine months from now, laying the groundwork for a successful launch.

She talks about your future child like a product or commodity. It makes both you and Dieter wince.

"No hard drugs Dieter, I'm serious," Diane warns him over coffee in his living room. She's got a checklist to go through with him and you.

"I've been off 'em for weeks," he assures her. "Just stickin' to weed."

"No big parties, no orgies," she says checking notes off her phone. "No ridiculous ranting on the red carpet."

"Fine." Dieter nods although you can see that he's going to miss those. He's always enjoyed the attention that goes along with a good party... Or a good orgy... Or rant.

"And you," Diane says turning to face you seated beside Dieter in his living room. "Obviously you signed an NDA so if people ask, you got pregnant from a one night stand and due to religious reasons you're keeping the pregnancy and giving the kid up for adoption."

Partially accurate.

"Won't it look kinda suspicious for his PA to be pregnant and then him suddenly have a baby?" you ask, suddenly concerned.

"You won't be his PA after this conversation," Diane informs you. "It would be a massive conflict of interest."

You feel your heart lurch. "Wait, I'm fired?"

"Not at all," Diane explains patiently. "You're on paid leave. You'll be given your weekly paychecks as usual."

The thought of nine months stuck at home for your mother to fret over (or worse once she finds out the dad is Dieter) makes you wince. Dieter squirms in his seat next to you, scratching absently at his ankle. A trait he does when he's agitated.

You've been his PA the longest he's ever maintained one. Usually he sleeps with them or burdens them into quitting. He feels safe with you, you're good at your job and you make him feel stable. Plus you’re carrying his fucking child. He doesn’t want you gone.

"No," Dieter finally insists, his voice strong. "I need her. I'm going to film in Ireland and I need her with me."

"Dieter-"

"She can wear baggy clothes when she starts to show," he reasons. "And when she gets too big she can do office work."

"Dieter-"

"No negotiating," Dieter insists. "I want her to work for me as long as she wants to." He turns to you at this point, brow raised. "Only if you do."

You smile brightly at him. "I do."

"So do I."

"Great," Diane says rolling her eyes. "I now pronounce you both totally fucked."

///

When you finally hand your completed contract over to Dieter and his lawyers that following week his smile is so wide you think that his face will split.

Immediately his broad hand goes to rest against your belly, eyes wide with anticipation.

"Hello little thing, I'm your daddy," he tells your stomach.

"Okay rule one," you tell him, pushing him off of you with a look of disgust. "No touching me without permission. I am not going to be one of those pregnant women that let strangers touch her belly."

"We're not strangers," Dieter pouts.

"Besides all your touching right now is my stomach fat," you say flatly. "The baby is the size of a poppy seed."

Dieter looks amazed. "How do you know that?"

You show him the app you've downloaded to your phone to track everything from fetal development to dietary suggestions. It's called BabiEDucate.

"You can make an account too," you tell him. "Parents can link up and access the same files."

Dieter is already downloading it before the sentence leaves your mouth. Parents. He's going to be a parent. He's going to be a dad! He's fucking giddy.

"I'll make sure I update it with everything," you promise. "Photos, cravings. It'll keep you involved even when you're working."

"Oh right," Dieter says, deflating. In all his excitement he'd forgotten the film. Several months of filming a period piece over in Ireland. "You're still coming right?"

"I'm still your PA aren't I?" you say bringing out the schedule. Ireland is only a few weeks away and you wonder if you'll be showing.

The nice thing about being a nobody in the world of celebrity is that no one will think it's strange if you suddenly start to show. You're Dieter's PA, not his friend or co-star. Your pregnancy won't be fodder for tabloid headlines or the rumor mill.

"When we're in public I'm still your employee," you remind him. "So no talking to my stomach or talking about the pregnancy."

Dieter looks thoughtful before snapping his fingers, inspired.

"We'll have a code word! How about... Broccoli."

"No."

"Lube?"

"Dieter-"

"Bubble? that's even a fun word to say!"

"Fine," you say with an eye roll. "Bubble it is."

///

By the end of your second month you feel like absolute shit. Morning sickness has hit you bad. Your mom is usually out of the house before you in the mornings but she catches you hovering over the toilet one morning and you have to pass it off as food poisoning.

You're thankful that filming will take you over to Ireland for a few months. That's a few months that you can put off telling her that you're carrying your boss's child.

Dieter has been as annoying as he is helpful in that regard. When you're with him at his place or driving to an event he's his usual self. Well, except all he wants to do is talk about the baby. But at least he does his job and can be redirected.

When you're not with him though? It's another story.

[2:06pm] D: you didn't upload to the app today. 🍼🍼🍼

[2:07pm] Too busy puking.

[2:07pm] D: I saw an article that says ginger tea helps.

[2:08pm] 👍

When you come out of the bathroom wiping at your washed mouth an hour later you're surprised to hear knocking.

You open it to find Dieter standing at your door with a cardboard box.

"What are you doing here?" You ask, eyes blown wide. "It's my day off and you're supposed to be at a promo photoshoot for-."

"I know," Dieter interrupts before placing the package into your arms. You glance inside to see heaps of ginger products: tea, honey, biscuits, candies.

"What’s all this?"

"For your morning sickness," he says glancing down at your stomach as if he's expecting you to have magically popped since he saw you yesterday. He's disappointed that you still look the same.

He gives you a quick smile and wave as he heads back down your driveway towards the waiting cab.

"Don't forget to update the app!'

#dieter bravo fanfiction #dieter bravo smut #dieter bravo #dieter x reader #pedro pascal dieter #The Bubble #pedro pascal smut #Pedro Pascal #fanfic #fanfiction #smut #eventual smut #romance #love #pregnancy

242 notes · View notes