#“frankie and poppy relationship stuff” | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

wildemaven · 1 year ago

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Sweet Creature: Chapter Nine

Pairing: Dieter Bravo x F!Reader

WC: 8k

Warnings: 18+ Blog; Fluff, a kiss of angst, talk of past relationship and break up, pregnancy scare, mopey Poppy, nervousness and anxiety, brief mentions of sobriety, smut, self doubt, public speaking, reader has the nickname Poppy- zero physical description, to dumb dumbs in love

A/N: This is a doozy of a chapter, there was so much to pack in for these two. I can’t believe we’re nearing the end, I had definite moments of sadness as I was wrapping up this chapter but also found so inspiration to help tie up the story for these two! You can listen to Dieter & Poppy’s Playlist Here. Also a big thank you to @gnpwdrnwhiskey for constantly listening and helping me through this one, I definitely needed it on this chapter.

Series Masterlist / Playlist / Main Masterlist

Previous/ Epilogue

It had taken a few months for Dieter to tangle himself into your life.

Inching his way into your mind, settling deep within your bones and eventually finding shelter in the most sacred of places— your heart.

It took only a matter of a few short days for him to imprint himself into your home, pieces of him lingering in your space, even long after he had left.

But you can’t seem to pull yourself from the confines of your bed, each morning since his departure, you study the hollowed out spot where his worn body claimed as his, still having yet to find the energy to make it or wash the sheets clean of the hours of intensity and conversations ingrained into the plush pillow-top.

Your fingers run over the creases of the pillow, remembering how you would trace the same lines etched across his face in the early mornings, the usual scrunch between his brows smooth and relaxed, the faintest of snores escaping his parted lips— memorizing his angelic dreamy state.

A soft thread catches the path your finger continues to take. A silky strand of hair, no longer a part of him, now woven in through the fibers of your cotton pillowcase— proof he was here and existed in this space with you, with those unruly thick curls tousled with ardency, sweat and sleep— your fingers still managing to work through the wildness.

-Saturday Morning-

“What was your last serious relationship like?” Dieter asks, laying on his side with an arm bent, head propped on his hand, your bed sheet draped over his naked lower half.

His free hand mapping out the plains of your exposed skin, the morning sun filters through your bedroom window, providing a soft muted light as his fingers continue to unearth new details of your body he has yet to see in daylight.

“Oof! Hitting me with the serious stuff first thing in the morning.” The rasp of sleep still coating your throat, your body turned in close towards him with one arm tucked between your pillow and resting head, your free hand mesmerized by the texture of his skin— connecting invisible lines between each freckle painted across his neck and chest.

“Question for a question then. But you don’t have to answer it if you don’t want to.”

“No, it’s fine. It’s— just a lot for some people to hear. Kind of just keep it to myself, less questions and ‘how come’ once they find out.”

“Hey, I won’t judge you, for anything you tell me— ever.”

Dieter watches the way your eyes flit about for a few seconds, his hand stopping to rest on your naked hip with a gentle squeeze, a reassuring gesture of sincerity in his words.

“Frankie was my high school sweetheart, we started dating our senior year. We were together— gosh…. 5, almost 6 years.” You let out a sigh, all the memories of your previous relationship flooding back to you, having been locked away for so long.

“After high school, when we realized things were getting serious, we decided to figure out what we wanted moving forward. We were on the same page with everything for the most part, no real deal breakers. We would get married after college, buy a house— a seemingly cookie cutter life together.”

“I’m not following— sounds like the perfect life to me.” Confusion settles across his forehead, brows drawn together as he studies your face.

“Except, I couldn’t give him the one thing he wanted— kids.” You notice the way his face drops when you say it, knowing his first thought is exactly what everyone else usually assumes when you tell them.

“I guess I should rephrase that— I didn’t want, don’t want kids. It was something we established too, both on board with living a childless life. We agreed we would be the best Aunt and Uncle for our friend’s kids.”

Dieter nods at your admission, the hand on your hip starting to leave feather-like strokes the length of your side, goosebumps scattering across your warm skin.

“It wasn’t until we were well into our relationship that things changed. We had a bit of a pregnancy scare, we were both very careful too, so it was a bit of a shock when it happened. I was angry with myself— how could I let it happen? What did I do wrong? All the things running through my head the minute I saw those pink lines, wondering how we were going to afford a baby on our combined income, all while trying to get through finishing college— I spiraled pretty hard for a good week. But, through some routine testing, we discovered it was a false-positive— I was so fucking relieved!”

Your fingers still over the hollow of his neck, taking a deep breath, not really sure how Dieter is taking everything you’re saying.

“In the midst of my inner turmoil over the thought of being pregnant, I hadn’t really checked in with Frankie to see where his head was at, I had just assumed he was riding the same boat as me.”

“He changed his mind?” He asks.

“Yeah— or it was what he had always wanted, he just didn’t realize it until that week, when it was almost a possibility.”

“So you broke up?”

“We stayed together for another year afterwards, thinking we could work through it. But I couldn’t keep that from him, it would have eaten me alive being the reason he wasn’t 100% happy. We decided it was best if we split.” You can’t help the smile that starts to develop, Dieter’s receptive demeanor made this whole moment feel a little less heavier than you thought it would be.

“I ended up running into Frankie a few years ago. We caught up and I learned he ended up joining the army, Special Forces I think, met his wife while saving her from some bar creep, always the chivalrous one— and they have two little girls. I like to think we both ended up where we were supposed to be.”

There’s a prick of something that ricochets across his chest— the pairing of unaltered reverence and adoration. You just want the best for others, and it shows even in how not that long ago how you went to battle for Diem out of pure love, wanting the best for her and Wren— he respects you so much now looking back on it.

Dieter leans over and places a few soft kisses to your lips, the last one lingering a little longer before pulling away to rest his forehead on yours.

“Thank you, for sharing that with me.” He murmurs against your lips.

“Of course. My question now— What about you? Do you want kids?” You ask.

Dieter gently pushes you to your back, settling himself between your legs, peering down at you with a soft smile.

“I’ll only ever be Uncle Dude— never had the desire to be a dad.”

His head dips down to your still bare chest, the few kitten-like licks before he takes your nipple into his mouth, scorching and persistent, causing your back to arch up into him, eyes fluttering closed and mouth wide as you emit a breathless whine.

A few intense sucking motions before he gives your breast an experimental bite, his eyes observing the way your body writhes at the juxtaposition of sensations before releasing it with a pop, blowing a stream of cold air across your wet skin and watching the way your nipple instantly tightens.

He crawls up your body, one arm resting next to your head as the other snakes down between your bodies taking hold of his now hardened cock, a few quick strokes before he’s notching the head at your now dripping entrance.

“Doesn’t mean I don’t like partaking in the act.” His words punctuated by him fully sheathing himself into your cunt.

“Oh fuck! Dieter—“ Your laugh quickly exchanged for a heady moan.

Your bodies meld together in a heated indulgence. The slippery grip of dewy skin as your bodies work in a synergistic fashion, calculated snapping of hips take you both to a climactic level of bliss.

BUZZ BUZZ BUZZ

The vibration of your phone against your nightstand draws you back from the reliving of your weekend with Dieter, interrupting the playlist streaming through the phone speaker.

You grab your phone to check who the message is from…

Mom ❤️: Hey Sweetheart! Let me know when you’re heading over. Going to sit by the pool for a bit until then. This place is beautiful, I might not ever leave! Talk to you soon!

The music promptly picks back up again with its uptempo beat, you connect your phone to your speakers in the living room, the words floating brightly in the background as you will yourself out of bed.

In route to a much needed cup of coffee, you pull on the fuzzy warm jacket that seems to have established itself as an essential element in your daily life, dropping your phone in its cavernous pocket before bringing the fleecy fabric to your face for a brief moment. It’s a cognitive experience, the inhalation of the still drenched in his signature Dieter-musk, making your insides gooey and flustered.

‘Ooh, I lose control, can't seem to get enough, uh-huh

When I wake from dreaming, tell me is it really love?’

You chuckle into your cup as you take that first sip, the words a flawless depiction, and complete coincidence of every morning this week.

A quick text back to your mom to fill her in on the day’s plans.

Poppy: Hi Mom! Had a bit of a slow morning, but I’m up and moving now! Going to shower and get ready. I thought we could go to this new sandwich shop that just opened. I've been wanting to try it. I’ll text you when I’m on my way to the hotel. Love you

Your mom had gotten in late last night, still having not seen her yet. Diem was so kind to put her up in the Capri for the weekend, your mom insisting she didn’t want to intrude and give you space.

It was her first time visiting since you had moved, but not her first time to Ojai. She had visited on numerous occasions in her travels before having you, it was usually a brief stop for a few hours to grab a quick bite and then off to her next stop.

As a child, you would spend hours browsing through her endless collection of photo albums, dreaming up your own stories about visiting her favorite places— grainy Kodak Portra 160 was her film of choice, the color grading and light leaks adding to the cinematized scenes. There was something alluring about Ojai, always spending a little extra time with those images, it had become your ‘one day I am going to move there’ place. So, when you had started actually considering moving, your mind instantly went to Ojai— it was a no-brainer this was the place you were meant to set your roots in.

A slow sip of the ambered liquid trickles down your throat, its atomic structure hitting every nerve as it slowly expands in your veins, giving you the ample amount of energy to keep you from crawling right back in bed.

A thrumming piano tune dances across the room, instantaneously reliving the moment you coerced Dieter to add it to your growing playlist, selfishly you hope the familiar high falsetto voice evokes the same memory for Dieter as it does for you when he shuffles through the songs.

Just a small town girl

Livin' in a lonely world

She took the midnight train going anywhere

Just a city boy

Born and raised in South Detroit

He took the midnight train going anywhere

-Sunday Afternoon-

“Add. The. Song. Dieter!” A purely joking dramatic version of yourself pleads with him, you sense the song isn’t a front-runner for Dieter, but you’re enjoying the banter it’s causing.

The popular chorus continues roaring through the living room where you’ve both been camped out for the last hour, switching off listening to music on bith your record player and Dieter’s Spotify account.

It felt silly when you suggested you both should create a compilation of songs that you could listen to and think of the other person— complete cheeseball move. It was reminiscent of junior high when you would download songs off shady sites and then burn the perfect cd mix for your crush, labeling it— I really like you but I’m not good with words, so here’s some songs instead— the cover art hand drawn sharpie doodles and emo quotes that could bring a 15 year old girl in love to tears. Being it was modern times, Dieter opted for a playlist of top favorite songs between the two of you, dubbing it ‘Dieter’s & Poppy’s Mix Tape.’

He wants to engrain this scene in his mind forever, your naked form cloaked in his beloved brown jacket, dancing around your living room, belting the lyrics in the most out of tune way.

“Streetlights, people!— Dieter, please! You said our favorite songs— this would be a favorite of mine! Add the damn song!!”

“This— This is your favorite song? It’s like the most overplayed karaoke song in the history of music” His cocked eyebrow as he holds his phone with the Spotify app open in his lap, finding it hard to hold off his growing smirk and not surprised in the least that it’s a top pick for you.

“I’ll have you know, I am the reigning Karaoke Queen, west of the Mississippi River— you're in the presence of royalty, Babe. Don't stop believin' Hold on to that feelin'!” Grabbing another slice of cold pizza from the half eaten box on the coffee table, you continue twirling about on your tippy toes, maintaining your off-key singing between bites.

“Something tells me your full of shit. Fine— It’s added. But I’m adding ‘You Need to Calm Down’ for tax.”

“I need to do what?” Your twirling ceases, the bottom of his jacket swaying about as you watch the way he stares down at his phone, fingers pecking at the screen.

“No— it’s a song. According to Wren, “it’s a Taylor Swift masterpiece!’” His air quotes and deadpan expression almost take you out.

“Never would have pegged you as a Swiftie, but I love it.”

“Well, it’s all she wants to listen to on the drive to school. I can’t help it if i know every word to almost every song.”

The next song plays through, Dieter continues to watch you from his spot on the couch, loving the carefree manner in which you move, your infectious smile on display as you sing along to a song you definitely do not know a single word to, eyes closed and arms stretched out letting the chorus fully envelop your mind— this whole moment solidifying his love for you.

He brings his phone up and snaps a few pictures, each image progressively blurrier as he tries to capture you dancing, his last attempt is more or less successful, the timing just right and the result an accurate depiction of how he wants look back on this time together— a flash of your beaming smile that causes your eyes to crinkle at the edges and your audacious desire to be completely yourself in front of him is a picture worth taking.

“Are you taking a picture of me?” Breathless and smiling.

“Guilty. I need something to remember this day while I’m away.”

“Okay, but take a better one then.”

Grabbing his sunglasses off the table to situate them on your face, your bare leg crossed over and kicked out to the side in an ameture Radio City Rockette fashion, middle fingers erect while your hands cover your now exposed breasts, a one-sided nose scrunch and curled lip with some semblance of a smile, all while the remaining slice of your pizza dangles from your mouth.

“Beautiful, just like the other ones.” His chest vibrates at the sight of you, he pats his thighs motioning for you to come over to where he’s seated. “Alright Karaoke Queen, get your sexy little Believin’ ass over here!”

Tossing your crust back into the pizza box, you skip-hop over to him, your knees sinking into the cushions of the couch as you straddle his boxer clad lap. His hands sliding under where his Jacket is splayed open, his warm touch glides over your thighs.

“Let me see— the others, please.” You ask timidly, not sure what ‘others’ entails, pulling his sunglasses off and tossing them to the side.

His thumb swipes and presses across his phone screen, then hands you an open folder of images, tiny intimate squares fill the screen. You click on the most recent ones of you here in your home, laughing at how ridiculous you think you look, glancing up to see Dieter’s head tilted to the side and his gaze fixed on you. Refocusing on his phone, you start swiping, so many images of times you had spent together, except you're the main focus of each photo, very much unaware of your photo being taken.

There was the afternoon spent baking cupcakes for no reason other than they sounded delicious. Flour covering the surface of the counter, while you and Wren laugh at something completely unrelated to the making of said cupcakes— equal amounts of flour coating both your hands and faces.

There’s the backyard dinner Diem had invited you over for. You were seated across from where Dieter and Diem were sitting, listening intently to something she was saying. The sun warm against your back as it had started its descent, your elbow propped on the table and chin resting on your hand, your attention focused on every aspect of the conversation.

The first evening Dieter and Wren had attended your art class together, a few of you talking about something art related and then a couple of you actually painting and drawing— your face naturally lighting up at you sharing art with others.

Each swipe revealed another image, so many of you smiling while looking off at whatever had your attention, full body laughs shared with someone out of frame, deep in thought or absorbed into something you were reading or looking at on your phone.

Seeing your life candidly curated in a digital collection of photos has so many emotions whirling through your mind, love being the most prominent one.

Your breath hitches when you scroll to the last image in the folder.

You're at the front of your classroom, a stack of papers tucked against your chest as your smile beams out to your class. You note your outfit isn’t your usual uniform, you're wearing your favorite band tee, jeans and sneakers— it’s the morning you were late and Dieter stepped in to help you out, bringing a sense of ease to your disarray of a morning.

“I think that was one of the moments I knew.” Dieter’s smoky voice cuts into the air, pointing at the image you’ve been studying a little longer than the others.

“Knew what?” Looking up from the phone to see his chestnut eyes twinkling with adoration, his hands gently rubbing against your hips.

“Knew that I needed you in my life, however that was.”

“There were others?”

“Your art class was another.”

There’s a beat of silence between you, the start of the next song picking up its pace.

“Do you ever imagine what it would be like if we would have met each other sooner than we did?” Something you’ve thought about at times, wishing you had more time with him, maybe if you had met sooner. Your fingers trace along the ridge of his collarbone as you wait for his answer.

“No— you would have definitely deserved better than who I was back then. You would have hated the thought of being in the same room as me.”

He wouldn’t have been anything close to who he is now, grateful you were never fully subjected to the asshole he used to be.

Your hand settles on his bare chest, right where his heart is beating fiercely.

“I deserve you now though. And I definitely want to be in every room you walk into.”

‘Tears stream down your face

I promise you I will learn from my mistakes

Tears stream down your face, and I

Lights will guide you home

And ignite your bones And I will try to fix you’

Your lips meet his in an unhurried embrace, Dieter pulling your lower body closer to his, his fingers digging into the meat of your backside when your hips start to gradually begin to grind against him, his cock hardening with each brush of your wet cunt.

His hands create their own intimate paths over your body, one traveling up the length of your spine, the other moving to the underside of your breast, cupping the supple weight of it in his palm. A swipe of his thumb over your sensitive nipple has you gasping into his mouth, the catalyst for your silent plea for more— and he hears it loud and clear.

His hands. His mouth. His cock— all working in perfect, articulate motions. Until you’re succumbing to the culmination of purposeful exertion and precise execution.

The last 48 hours were spent with Dieter's departure looming in the background of your minds, not allowing yourselves to stew on the impending heartache that was to come the moment you said your goodbyes.

Between the hours of relaxed conversations and alleviating desirous needs, you both managed to get through the weekend with a strong sense of optimism about the future. A shared commitment to each other, with endless promises of check-ins whenever possible and working out a plan to see each other once Dieter had his schedule set, it was enough to keep the sadness at bay— it gave you something to look forward to.

The afternoon slowly began to bleed into your final evening together, tangled limbs and intimate memories treated with exactness, fueling hushed whispers of ‘I love yous’ embedding themselves into every single part of your soul.

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

You hadn’t been expecting anyone, the rapid knock on your front door was a complete surprise.

After confirming your name with the sweet delivery lady, she hands off the beautiful dried floral arrangement, mentioning a card was tucked into the center, wishing you a great rest of your day before driving away.

You had never seen anything like it before, an incredible assortment of dried flowers, stems and oversized leaves arranged meticulously in a ceramic vase.

Placing the flowers on the kitchen counter, you pull the small card from it, reading the small written note:

Poppy, I’m so proud of you! You’re so talented and I can’t wait to hear how tonight goes. Love you, Dieter

You smile at his thoughtfulness, missing him so much and needing to hear his voice desperately.

Pulling your phone from the coat pocket, you dial his number and hope there’s a chance you catch him at a good time.

“Hello.” There’s warmth in the way his voice cracks through the phone.

“Hi. I just got the flowers— they’re absolutely beautiful, Dieter. Thank you!”

“I can’t take full credit. Nessa, my assistant, said you might like them, something about them lasting forever. Anyways, she set up the order while I was in a meeting.”

“Well, I’ll have to thank her at some point then.” There’s some static carrying through the line as you continue your conversation.

“How are you feeling about today?”

“Good. Just finally pulled myself out of bed. Going to get dressed, then have lunch with my mom before I get ready for tonight. I miss you, Dieter.”

There’s a brief moment where it sounds like the call cuts out, looking at the screen you see it’s still counting up the call minutes, still connected.

“I— you too. ‘Ant wait— it goes….”

“Dieter?…Hello? Babe, your phone keeps cutting out.”

*Call Dropped*

The connection was lost, conversation cut short, staring at a now black phone screen.

Poppy💐: Your service must be shitty or something, couldn’t hear most of what you were saying. Call me when you can. Love you 💜

You attach a photo of the flowers along with your message. Knowing if he was in a bad service area, you wouldn’t be getting an immediate response, so you take that as your cue to get yourself ready.

Poppy: Getting dressed! Should be leaving here in 20 minutes. See you in a bit mom! 😘

Your mom’s presence was exactly what you needed today. Seeing her sitting across from you now makes you feel less overwhelmed by the fact that your boyfriend isn’t here and you’re hours away from sharing this passion project of yours, something so intimate and personal, with a room full of art loving strangers.

But even in her presence, you still find your mind wandering— Dieter being the central character of your deviating thoughts— even things outside your home, the smallest of details, reminding you of him in some way.

Bart’s across the street, a favorite spot for both of you, especially after the talk you both shared coming to an understanding and moving forward together with a new perspective on each other.

Someone walking by, where your mom and you are sitting together on the restaurant patio, was carrying a merchant bag from a store you had bought Dieter’s birthday present. There was a gold colored velvet button up shirt cover in a large geometric print that you had seen while out shopping with Diem one weekend, she had made the offhand comment that it was totally something Dieter would wear and when you had found out a few days later that Dieter’s birthday was the following weekend, you immediately went back to buy it for him.

You had also thrown in a pair of tiny Frozen charms, Elsa for Wren and Olaf for Dieter, for the Crocs you had seen him wear around Diem’s house on movie nights, in the chance he hated the shirt you knew he was a sucker for kitschy gifts— by the way he wears the shirt regularly, it’s fair to assume he likes it.

You even think of him in the most laughable ways too, like when a car similar to his drives by the restaurant, you of course immediately think of him— you find yourself to be a lost cause at this point.

“I’m so sorry, Sweetheart, I’m sure Dieter would love to be here if he could. Aside from him leaving, how was the rest of the week after he left?”

“Hmm?”

“I asked how’s your week been? We haven’t talked much since last week.”

“Oh my gosh, Mom! I’m so sorry— I’m literally the worst person to be around right now, I’m sure. I’ve been so in my head lately, I can’t even think straight.” You cover your face as you apologize for being lackluster company to her, realizing you’ve spent most of lunch off in La-La-Land.

“My week was good though. With summer break starting last week, I spent most of this wrapping up last minute grading and finishing up paperwork. Monday and Tuesday I went to clean up my classroom, just mainly clearing out old projects and lesson plans from the past year. Which then left me the rest of the week to get my canvases prepared and hung up over at Reverie, where the art opening is tonight.”

“Sounds like it’s kept your mind off of Dieter not being able to be there tonight.” She gives you a sympathetic look, and it makes you feel so appreciative that she flew out to be here for you.

“If I’m being honest, it really hasn’t. I just selfishly keep wishing he didn’t have leave so I could have more time with him. And then I hate myself for even thinking that, because I’m so happy and proud of him— he deserves this, I just miss him so much. We’ve tried to talk and FaceTime when we can, but his schedule right now has been busy, so I just sit and wait for him to call most evenings. God, I sound ridiculous!” A slight crack to your voice as you’re overcome with emotion, it’s sadness and happiness all wrapped up in a perfect little box sitting in your chest, lifting your chin up as you fight back the tears that threaten to break.

“Oh, honey.” She passes you a few clean napkins, noticing the few tears that managed to escape. “Maybe give him a call in a bit, I’m sure hearing his voice will help you feel better.”

“Yeah, I’ll give him a call when I get home. Thanks mom. I’m so glad you’re here! Let’s talk about something else, bring the mood back up. How’s retirement going?” Changing the subject to hopefully suppress your mopey demeanor, dabbing your wet cheeks lightly.

“Oh, it’s great! I’ve actually been thinking about doing some traveling now that I have all this time.”

“I love that for you mom. You should go, see the world— you deserve it.”

She shared about the places she had already started planning to visit— in and around Canada, parts of Europe, then several areas of South America. You greedily wished she didn’t want to go, feeling a steady wave of emotions rock through you at the thought of her being gone for so long. But, you know how much traveling means to her, it’s pure joy watching the way she can’t stop smiling as she shows you landmark places she’ll be visiting— a true testament to chase after the things you love.

Doubt.

Fear.

Trepidation.

A war of anxieties. Ruthless, belligerent intruders, battling for control and power. Your mind slowly forfeits, white flag in waiting, ready to surrender yourself to the helm of your own enemies.

Even with the excitement surrounding tonight, you hadn’t really mastered the art of calming intrusive thoughts and apprehension once they began to build their way into your consciousness.

There’s the brief moment where you consider getting back into your car and driving home— rid yourself of the stress and anxiety that is overcoming you at the thought of being the center of attention tonight— albeit your art the main focus, but with that will come talking about yourself and it has you ready to bail.

But, you had put so much time and effort into this collection, executing and curating an intimate journey of discovery in the form of detailed lines and brush strokes that make up a whole series of paintings you are incredibly proud of.

Breathe.

In.

Out.

Dieter comes to mind, the words he shared with you before he left:

“You were made for this, it’s who you are and it’s what you know— don’t let you be the reason you stop chasing what you deserve. I believe in everything you do, you should too.”

His words wash over you, each one forging a path for you to conquer your reluctance to seek out something that you have always dreamed of doing.

You pull out your phone to shoot Dieter a quick text before heading into the gallery.

Poppy💐: Hi! I miss you and wish you were here ❤. Hope you had a great day. I’ll have Diem take pictures to send you later. Call me when you can. Love you xo

Remembering back to when Dieter had shared something he does when his anxiety starts to surface, deciding to take a minute to borrow his technique to help ground your thoughts.

You see the vibrant lights from the front windows of Reverie Studio, the way the moon is peeking out from behind the building making its way through the sky, the streak of lights from headlights of passing cars, blurred bodies of people milling around the streets unbothered by you rooted in the center of the sidewalk, the time stamped over an image of you and Dieter as the lock screen on your phone.

You feel the weight of your phone leaving your hand as you drop it in your purse, the flowy dress that you picked out with Diem a few weeks ago specifically for this evening, a folded piece of paper with notes for the small speech you were going to give, a good luck charm in the form of Dieter’s 1 year chip clutched tightly into your hand.

You hear the muted chatter of the early birds spilling from the open door of the gallery, the mingling musical instruments in the local park showering concert goers with an original melodic song, an indistinguishable mix of hello’s and goodbye’s wrapped around gossip filled phone conversations.

You smell the sweet-vanilla-waffle confections of the little ice cream shop that stays open late during the summer, a hint of a smokey musk dusting the air reminding you of the woody spicy that’s so distinctly Dieter.

You taste the delicate flavors of a savory future, one that has a palatable balance of sweetness and verve— something so delectable that you don’t think you’ll be able to stop reveling in its richness.

BUZZ BUZZ BUZZ

Your immediate thought is it’s Dieter, pulling out your phone to see it’s instead Diem.

Diem: Are you going to stand out there all night?? Get your ass in here!

She’s standing in the window with Wren on her hip, both of them waving at you.

Feeling a somewhat renewed sense of confidence, you wait for a break in the passing cars and jog across the street to join the crowd already forming inside.

You’re completely taken aback once you’re through the front door, not by the overwhelming number of people who showed up to view your work, but by how the room is filled with a plethora of vases overflowing with poppies.

The edges of the room, table tops, display pedestals all covered in a sea of pinks, oranges and pale yellow flowers.

“So glad you could show up!” Diem and Wren wrap you in a joint hug, a warm greeting with a touch of her special sarcasm.

“Where did all these flowers come from? They weren’t here yesterday when I stopped in to do some final touches.”

“A certain someone might have wanted to surprise you with something special.”

There’s an immediate pang in your chest, his thoughtfulness and his way of showing support by filling the studio space with your favorite flowers, you have to actively fight off the urge to cry tears of happiness.

You snap a few photos, focusing on the ones that sit below where your canvases are hung on the fabricated display walls.

You can’t contain the smile plastered across your face, seeing your work being admired by those in attendance, getting a chance to catch up with friends and fellow artists and having your mom close by listening to her talk up your talent with complete strangers— all still while wishing Dieter were here bask in the excitement with you.

“If I could have everyone’s attention please.” The owners ask, the room’s noise quickly reduced to a curbed level. “We thank everyone for coming to show their support for this wonderful event. We’ll have her share more about it with you and then we’d like to say a few words afterwards.”

Applause breaches the silence as you’re beckoned to the center of the room, your paper of scribbled notes in one hand and Dieter’s chip in the other, making your way to the front of the mass of people.

You introduce yourself as you take in all the faces, some familiar and some new, Diem and your mom in a side embrace with Wren to the front of them, each person enthralled and eager to hear you share more about you and the art behind you.

“Art has always been a part of me, in so many different ways. Growing up I would tear apart my mom’s magazines to make collages of pretty pictures, sorry mom.” Glancing down at your paper as a wave of soft laughter filters around, it elicits a surge of excitement and sureness blooms somewhere deep in your soul, deciding to for-go reading anything you had written and just share from the heart.

“And then I got my first sketchbook, that thing never left my side. Always with me at school, trips to the grocery store and even on days when my mom worked late, I’d sit in the corner of her classroom and just draw— creating little scenes from memory. I filled the pages rather quickly too, pages were barely hanging on with the amount of wear and tear I had put it through. Before I knew it, I had amassed a collection of sketchbooks and canvases over the years. Art has always been a part of who I am and I think it always will be.”

Everyone seemed so fascinated by everything you’re sharing. Explaining the story behind your collection— starting as a literal dream and slowly becoming a now etched on canvas reality.

Even the collaborative piece with Dieter is hung among the others, you went the extra step to add his name onto the little artist placard:

Artists: Dieter & Poppy

Title: ‘Sweet Creature’

Medium: Acrylic on Canvas

$: (Not For Sale)

“Thank you all for taking the time out of your busy schedules to be here tonight, I appreciate it so very much, I’ll be around the rest of the evening to chat more or answer any questions. And thank you to Reviere Studio, you’ve become like a second home to me. I’m so grateful that I had the opportunity to share my love for the arts with the many who attended my classes in this very space, but also to be the last art showing truly means so much to me. I will miss you all.”

Another round of applause and cheers fill the open space. You feel like it went pretty well for how nervous you were earlier in the evening, not really sure why you were doubting yourself to begin with.

The crowd slowly starts to disperse as you start to weave to where Diem, your mom and Wren are standing, getting stopped for hugs and hellos from former class attendees, congratulatory remarks for complete strangers too— you’re even shocked when Betty and Marilyn stop to share their well wishes with you.

“I’m so proud of you sweetheart, it’s all so amazing!” Your mom wraps you in praises and a tight hug.

“Thank you mom, I’m so happy you could be here!”

“I’m happy to be here too!” Wren’s excitement is barely containable as she bounces off the floor.

“I’m so happy you’re here too Wren!” You tell her as you bend down to give her a hug as well.

Standing back to your full height, you turn to Diem and just wrap your arms around her shoulders and hold her close, she returns the same energy.

“Thank you so much for everything, you are literally the best friend I could have ever asked for. I love you so much Diem!”

“God dammit, Poppy! I didn’t wear any waterproof mascara because I wasn’t planning on crying tonight! I love you too!” She pulls away and starts fanning her face, drying up the tears that had started to fill her eyes.

“Excuse me! We have a quick, exciting announcement to make before the evening continues with drinks and appetizers.” The sweet owner Susi’s voice boomed out to the guests.

Dieter doesn’t like lying, not in general at least and especially not to you— open and honest is how he continues to move forward with his life.

But this doesn’t feel like a lie, in a sense. A secret. A surprise.

Taking this role meant sacrificing his time away and that terrified him, especially being his first project to jump back into.

After a call with his agent on the drive back to LA Monday morning and a check in with his sponsor, Dieter requested a meeting with the movie’s higher ups.

That meeting didn’t happen until a few days later, but when he found out filming would be held in and around LA, Dieter learned his request for weekends to travel back to Ojai was successful.

That gave him less than 24 hours to get flowers ordered to be delivered to the gallery, let Diem in on his plan to ensure everything was in motion, all while you had no idea what was happening.

Dieter settles in the back of the crowd, tucked out of sight, finding it difficult to keep his eyes off you as you stand up there.

Watching you share about your life and how art has always been a big part of it, the two of you so similar in many ways makes him feel a deeper connection to you.

He recognizes the paper you’ve started crumpled into your hand, worn and creased from the repetitive folding and unfolding, scarred by the cross-hatching over abandoned words or shelved sentences, bullet points of importance to add substance to your speech. He likes the version you who was pacing around her living room Sunday morning, paper in one hand and pen in the other, reciting each line with a fluctuating ambivalent tone, stopping intermittently at the coffee table to rework a line or add something he had suggested. But he loves this version of you standing before him right now, no hesitation in your words, speaking with certainty and feeling— you were more than prepared.

The way you wear your confidence stirs something inside of him— trying his best to keep a low profile, because all he wants to do is scoop you up and kiss you breathless, to tell you over and over, how perfect and amazing he thinks you are.

He notices the light catching something you’re intently smoothing your fingers over, tracing repeatedly over every word— It’s not going to be easy, but it’s going to be worth it— engraved on his 1 year chip, a habit he’s welcomed into his daily routine. You had refused to take it from him when he offered it, not wanting him to be without it longer than necessary, but he had vowed to take it back the moment you were reunited. Placing it in your palm, hinting at the streak of luck it had brought him over the past year, ensuring that it would do the same for you— but he knew you wouldn’t need any.

He wants more of this— more time with you. To feel immersed back into this normal paced life and experience the joys that you feel regularly.

He has to shuffle himself around a bit when the crowd starts to move about, still trying to not be seen, watching you celebrate post speech with your mom, Diem and Wren— eagerly wanting to do the same.

The gallery owner’s announcement signals the beginning of something exciting.

He just hopes you’re as ecstatic about what’s about to be revealed as he is.

Susi takes a moment for everyone to quiet down and focus their attention on her before continuing her speech.

“Earlier this year, we had made the difficult decision to close our doors— deciding it was time to seek out a new chapter with new adventures and close this chapter on Reverie Studio.”

You’re sandwiched between Diem and your mom, hands intertwined as your head rests on Diem’s shoulder, somber as Susi’s heartfelt words about the studio’s closing.

“But we have some exciting news to share with you all. The gallery and studio are now under new ownership and will continue to stay open. It will be under a new name, but will still retain what Reverie had previously been known for— classes, art openings, studio space. And while we’re sad to hand it over, we’re excited to see it continue to serve the community.”

The delighted commotion pours out into the streets, catching the attention of passersby’s curiosity.

“So, we welcome you to the new home of Les Coquelicots Studio. The new owner is somewhere here in the audience too.” Heads begin to turn, seeking out where this mysterious owner is, when Susi points towards the back of the room and waves. “Ah, there he is. Please be sure to make him feel welcome and thank him before you leave. Thank you all again for coming and have a wonderful rest of the night.”

Music begins to brim over the conversations that start to pick up, guests dispersing to fill their small plates with finger foods and refilling of drinks, ambling about observing your artwork and surrounding art pieces.

But you're too focused on the fact that you had no idea that the space wasn’t closing, as you continue turning about scanning the room for the new owner.

Everything stills.

No sound.

No horde of people.

Just him.

Dieter Bravo.

All Dieter-like too, leaning against the back wall, hands secure in his pockets, the slightest tick of his jaw punctuating his dimple.

Your brain is actively working to re-hardwire your body to function properly, but you’re motionless. Speechless.

He’s here, propelling himself forward and making his way to you, even as he stands before you, it doesn’t feel real.

“Surprise.” His voice nearly takes you out, it hasn’t been that long since you had last spoken, but you’ve missed its gravely tone so much.

“What are you doing here? I thought— I don’t know what I thought because I can’t think straight at the moment. How are you here?” Dizzy with total surprise and confusion.

He leans in, laughing at your flustered smile, hands slinking their way to your face, his touch charged with fervor as his thumbs sweep over the apples of your cheeks.

“Came to see my girl.” He smiles softly, his words a breath away from where you want him most.

You close the distance between you, his lips fitting perfectly against yours, unbothered by the room full of people around you. You knew you would never get that same feeling or experience like with your first kiss, but this is second best and you welcome it fully.

Before the kiss has a chance to turn into something more than what is appropriate for the setting, you pull away, resting your forehead on his, breathless and happy.

“It’s you isn’t it— You bought this place?” The answer is clear as you look into his warm eyes.

“I did.”

“Les Coquelicots? Monet’s painting?”

“Poppies.”

This is it. Your forever. With him. Always.

“I know how much this place means to you, think of it as a thank you— for giving me a chance, for believing in me.”

“You didn’t have to buy me an art gallery as a thank you, dinner would have been fine.” Your fingers catching the rampant tears streaming down your cheeks, emitting a breathy laugh.

“We can go to dinner after this then.” His words mumbled in a kiss against your forehead.

“You still didn’t answer my question— How are you here? What about your movie?”

“When I found out we would be shooting locally in LA, I told them I had one request— that I was able to go home every weekend if I wasn’t needed on set.”

“But your home is already there?”

“I’m selling my home in West Hollywood— my realtor is getting it ready to be listed next week, hopefully moved out by the end of the month. So I can move home.”

It goes without saying that you know what he means, but you want to hear him say it out loud.

“Do you mean here? You’ll be moving here?”

He nods his head in response.

“What if this place gets too boring for a big movie star like yourself?” Biting your lip with a hint of a smile.

“Poppy— wherever I go, you bring me home.”

The kiss is short, but full of a warmth you crave when he’s in your presence, your arms linking around his neck as he pulls flush against, white knuckle grip on your hips— the two you lost in each other as the work around you carries on.

“Hmm— so, you’re gonna move in with Diem permanently?”

“Nah, I’ll find some place eventually.” He winks, no real rush to move in together, but he sees it as an option at some point in the future.

“Well, if you’re over living with your sister, I have a comfortable couch with your name all over it.” You snort at your offer.

“Poppy, I’m not sleeping on your fucking couch.”

“Suit yourself then.” You mirror his wink before pulling him in for another string of small pecks.

“I love you, Dieter.”

“I love you too, Poppy”

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