#dieter bravo imagines

[huntingingoodwill]

personal shopping (d.b.)

masterlist

pairing: dieter bravo x personal shopper! reader

desc: your newest client, dieter bravo, braves the outside world to flirt with you at the farmer’s market. though it defeats the point of hiring a personal shopper, you’ll let him, ‘cuz he’s cute. you’ll play hard to get though. (and mention that javi gutierrez is your favourite celeb client, just to make him jealous)

“He said he needs someone to ‘deal with groceries and shit’ so he can ‘meditate on his art’, which is probably a euphemism for doing coke and wearing the same sweatpants for a week. Don’t tell him I said that.” Lia sighed.

She had introduced herself as Dieter’s personal assistant’s assistant, which you thought was slight overkill, but you weren’t in any position to judge. You had now joined her in Dieter’s league of many ‘personals’. He had a personal assistant, a personal chef, a personal trainer, and now you were his personal shopper.

She led you through his mansion in the hills, thrusting you into the nucleus of his ‘meditation’: a cavernous living room cluttered with empty liquor bottles and designer furniture covered in paint splatter.

“Lee-uhhhhhhh.” Dieter lay face down on the plush carpet, which you thought was quite an unconventional meditation position. “What time is it?”

You watched as he nuzzled his head into the crook of his elbow, trying to block out the rays of sun that shot through the windows. His soft, unruly curls caught the light, glowing warm in the sun as the nape of his neck prickled with sweat.

“10:30, Mr. Bravo.” Lia said, her voice artificially chipper.

“In the morning?” He grumbled, rolling onto his back.

You caught sight of his face, the skin dipping between his brow as he furrowed it, rubbing a hand across the stubble peppered across his jaw. Despite looking an absolute mess, he still looked cuter than he did in his shitty movies. You admired the curve of his nose and his disgruntled, sleepy profile as he kept his eyes closed against the sun. The tan skin of his bare torso was visible beneath an oversized teddy jacket, paired with sweatpants slung low on his hips.

“Was it really necessary to wake me up at this ungodly hour?“ He blinked sleep from his eyes, the irises dark and honeyed as they glimmered in the light.

He caught sight of you, a sudden glint sparking alight in his eyes. His mouth, set with displeasure only a moment ago, began to break out in a smile. He looked up at you, dishevelled and adoring. “Oh. Hello.”

“Hello, Mr. Bravo.” You smirked, watching him scramble to his feet amongst the clutter of crushed paint tubes. You held out your hand.

“Call me Dieter. All my friends call me Dieter.” He intercepted your hand, fingers lingering appreciatively. “We’re gonna be friends, aren’t we?”

You tried to stifle a laugh. As soon as he looked at you you knew he’d be a relentless flirt. It was cute, in a pathetic way.

“I think I’m gonna be your employee, Mr. Bravo.” You corrected, ever the professional. He was cute, but there was no harm in making him work for it a little. “I was just about to head to the market, so I wanted to ask if you have a budget, or any dietary restrictions-”

“Let Mr. Bravo get back to his painting, I can fill you in on the details-” Lia began.

“I can explain everything.” Dieter interrupted. “I’ll even come along.” He said, shoving off his jacket. You felt heat creep up your cheeks as you eyed the broad expanse of his back, the muscle beneath the skin pulling taut as he searched for a clean shirt, pulling it over his head.

“Doesn’t that defeat the purpose of hiring a personal shopper?”

“We’ll call it a trial run. Just so you know what I like. Or we could call it something else. ‘First date’ has a nice ring to it.” He grinned, slinging an arm around your shoulder, a sensation that felt nicer than you cared to admit.

“You come on strong, don’t you?” You mumbled through a derisive smile, feeling his ego expand as you allowed him to keep his arm around you.

“Always.”

“Don’t you have some artistic meditation to do? Lia said you weren’t interested in ‘groceries and shit’.” You said, sidling through the stalls of the farmer’s market.

The cramped little lanes were filled with people, recognition flashing in their eyes as they caught sight of Dieter, who trailed after you.

“This is artistic meditation. I’m watching my new muse at work.” He said matter-of-factly, swinging your basket, which he had offered to carry for you, in his hand. His rings stood out starkly, flashing against the wicker handle.

You rolled your eyes, biting back a grin.

“Lia gave me a list of ingredients your personal chef needs, but do you have any other requests? Any ingredients for when your chef has an off day?”

“I don’t cook. When he has an off day, I just deliver.” Dieter adjusted his sunglasses, which you were starting to believe were less of a means to disguise himself from the prying eyes of the public and more because his hangover couldn’t bear the light. “Just buy me whatever, as long as it’s organic, cage free, GMO free, chemical free…” He said, taking a sip of water from his bottle.

You internally groaned. Though you were used to these buzzwords being haphazardly thrown about by your other clients without really knowing what they meant, you were hoping he’d be exempt.

“Water is a chemical compound.” You muttered, stopping in front of a produce stall, fruits and vegetables enticingly overflowing from the crates before you.

You could see his eyes widening behind the dark lenses of his shades from the corner of your eye as he spat the water back into its bottle.

“Water is a chemical?!” He spluttered.

You arched an eyebrow. “And I saw five KitKat wrappers on your carpet this morning.”

“We all make mistakes.” He chuckled, wicking away water from his mouth as he watched you reach for a lemon, its peel a vibrant yellow. “But that’s unimportant. Will you go out with me?”

A smile broke out across your face, unable to hide your amusement at his direct nature. You handed him the lemon, admiring the black ink of his tattoos etched across his skin as he extended his arm to place it in the basket.

“I don’t date men who can’t cook.”

“You’ll have to teach me then. It can be our second date.” He ran his hand through his hair, teeth flashing in a smile. His hair, already tousled, seemed to become even more unruly, and you resisted the urge to run your hand through it to help him fix it.

“Not part of my job description. I just help my clients buy what they need. Groceries, furniture, clothes… but I doubt you’re very interested in the last one.” You smirked, pointedly looking at his feet, clad in crocs and socks.

He looked down at the fashion offence he was adorned with, shrugging. “Fashion is a social construct. I’d wear a different pair of shoes if you’d go out with me, though.”

“I don’t go out with my clients.” You said, voice bubbling with laughter.

“But if you had to go out with any of your clients, it’d be me, right?”

“It’d probably be…” You wracked your mind, going through your list of clients to find a suitable candidate. “Javi Gutierrez.”

“That hack?”

“I don’t think he’s a hack!” You laughed, defensive. “He’s a good actor.”

“I’m a good actor.” He exclaimed, only to be met with your raised eyebrows and a shrug as you turned toward the next stall.

“Your silence speaks volumes.” He mumbled, faking a hurt tone as he followed close behind you.

“If you like him so much, some people say I look like Javi. We could always play pretend.” He smirked.

You put down the jar of honey you were examining, scanning Dieter up and down, as if trying to look for a resemblance.

“Hmm… don’t see it.” You sighed nonchalantly, refocusing your attention on the neatly stacked rows of jars before you.

“Since you think so highly of Javi, what do you think of me?” Dieter said, a crush of people moving through the lane forcing him close to you. You tried to keep your cool as you held his intense gaze, the cologne he spritzed on before he left the house deep and musky, the vivid scent clouding your senses. You swallowed thickly.

“I think you’re pretentious and hedonistic.”

“I have no idea what you mean.” He smiled, feigning innocence.

“Are you in denial, or do you just have a small vocabulary?”

“Can’t it be both?” He laughed. He looked around, making sure no one was watching, before dipping toward you, his lips barely ghosting the curve of your ear, his husky voice ringing in your head. “If you think using your big words to insult me will scare me off, you’re wrong. It just makes me more attracted to you.”

“Good.” You said, praying he wouldn’t feel the heat radiating off you, a blush blooming across your jaw. You ignored the playful smile on his face, keeping your hands busy as you aimlessly picked through produce. You bought a ripe apple, wiping it clean on your shirt.

Dieter’s eyes lingered on your lips as you took a bite, the crisp skin breaking beneath your teeth.

“So, you’ll go out with me?” He asked.

He held out his hand, and before you even registered what was happening, you had given him the apple, the red, glossy skin gleaming against his rough palm. He took a bite, the fruit’s flesh crunching as juice dribbled down his forearm, tracing the veins beneath his skin.

“Not happening.”

[umadosedepascal]

DIRTY HOLIDAY | Pedro Pascal X f!reader | One Shot

Written by Santa Trindade

Banner by @missyorkswhore

Made in Brazil

Pairing: Pedro Pascal x f!reader

Summary: You go with friends spend the holidays in Mexico, such a coincidence to be at the same resort as Pedro. What a world, so small huh?

wc: 3.7k

rating/warnings: [little surprising plot] [Pedro being Pedro][unprotected PIV][oral sex m/f] [alcohol comsuption] [Curse words]

a/n: C’MON GUYS. Do I need to explain myself after yesterday pictures and videos? NO. FUCKING HELL NO. wtf Pedro.. WHY is he so fucking hot??? WTF. 😭

You are going with your friends to Mexico to spend the holidays this year. It was a tough decision to make because you always spend the holidays with family, but this time you decided to try something new away from home since your whole family always judges you. Your dad always comes to you saying, “You’ve been drinking a lot, my baby; slow down…”

All you want to say is that you are a grown woman and do whatever you want, but every year you keep behaving as an angel to them.

You and your girlfriends get on the airplane on the 24th, heading to Mexico for 2 weeks.

All of you are very excited and feeling some freedom in the air.

“Hell yeah, the first thing we get there will be a round of tequila shots… you gotta deal with me…” and your friends laugh with your sassy attitude.

A promise is a promise. You check in, change to your bikinis, and go to the bar by the pool.

“Hey buddy, 3 shots of tequila, por favor?”

The barman looks at you with half-closed eyes. “ID first, my ladies; you look under 18…”

Although you are all over 27, actually, you three hand your IDs on the counter and look around the pool waiting for your drinks.

One of your friends comes to you and says, “Hey, isn’t that guy from….”

Your jaw drops, your legs start trembling and shaking, trying to hold on to something and not to fall… “YES?”

Pedro is lying down on a sun chair in red shorts, drips of water are running down to his bare chest, and he is really deep into a book.

“I need my shot RIGHT NOW!” You say loudly to your friends, trying to compose yourself at the same time.

They know you have a crush on him and talk nonstop about his work, so this is going to be a wild trip if you get to meet him even for a second.

“Second round is on me; let’s do it,” one of your friends says.

All you can think about is him. You don’t stop to look in his direction and try to plan how to approach without being a silly, stupid, drunk idiot.

The most down-to-earth friend of yours tries to calm you down, saying that you will have your chance, etc., but you are so far away in your thoughts that you ask for a large margarita and tell them you're going to take a sun chair as close as possible to him and see what happens.

“You crazy! But yeah, good luck; I hope he’s not a dick with you…” one of them tells you, hopeless, not trying to hurt your feelings.

“Dick? Yeah, I want some dick… You laugh, already buzzed, walking towards the chair right next to his.

As long as you get near him, by himself, still deep into the book.

You already worked up the courage and asked, “Hi, is this chair taken?”

He gives a side eye, looking at you from head to toe. “No darling, all yours…”

As you sit on the chair, you can hear your friends from the bar cheering like party animals.

You look at him saying, “Jeez, these people know how to party, huh?” Hoping he didn’t see you before taking shots with them a few moments ago.

“Yeah, yeah… young people... having their time…” he says with a smooth voice.

You feel relief because he didn’t see you before with them and anxious at the same time because YES, you could start a chit chat with him.

“Erm, yeah…” You don’t know how to keep this going and pick anything that you find inside your ecobag just to create other possible ways to talk.

Lay down on the chair, put on your Ray-Bans, and open the FUCKING MAP of the resort.

Jesus, what am I doing? Should I say I know him? Should I just ask what he is reading or maybe wait for another brief comment coming from him?

You can see by the side of your eye that from time to time he looks at you, but very, very fast, you just hold that giant map, feeling like you're on mushrooms with empty thoughts on your mind.

You’ve got your friends getting drunk and cheering for you from the bar and the hottest guy in the world by your side.

Think wisely…

You grab your drink from the side table and sip it.

“Is that good?” He asks you.

Pretending like you got scared, almost dropping the fancy glass on the floor… “Did you just.. talk to me? Um, well, I had better ones. But this one isn’t bad at all…” you describe your drink with a shy smile.

What the fuck did I say???

He chuckles, closing his book and now sitting down on the chair.

“Hm... 3-star review? I’m getting one myself; I like cheap stuff.”

You simply just give a “ha” to him as he stands up and walks towards the bar.

Your friends get wild; at this point, they might think he is going to talk to them for sure.

You immediately look at them trying to mimic something like, “Nooooo, noooooo, don’t say shit, you motherfuckers!!!”

You are in a panic because you know them and what they are capable of, especially under alcohol influence.

But they understand wrong; they know you always need a hand in terms of trying to flirt with someone else.

You see one of them approach him, saying something and looking at you at the same time.

You are screwed up. You know.

The only thing you can do now is wait for your end, getting big gulps of your drink and trying to calm down.

He comes back with a wild smile on his face saying, “I just met your friends over there; they told me things... you don’t need to hide anything…”

You sit down quickly. “What? Hahaha, they… They are buzzed; don’t believe in what they say…”

He keeps looking at you with half-closed eyes. “Hmm,” he sits on his chair sipping his drink and says, “Yeah, it’s not that bad at all…”

You simply don’t talk for some moments; your anxiety is building up like a pressure cooker.

Until then… “Hey Pedro… I’m sorry… I just wanted to say hi, but I’m already drunk, and I don’t know how to start a proper conversation. They probably told you I’m a sucker for you… and the ‘dick’ thing as well. Don’t get me wrong; I’m not a stalker; I don’t want to bother you. I just think you're awesome, and it was a stupid idea to come over right here, right now.” You run over words.

“Wow, wow, wow, they just told me to be nice to you, haha, because you care... about me.” Pointing to himself.

After you say all that with a flushed cheek, you let out a loud laugh looking at your friends that are already out of sight. You get more desperate saying sorry a million times, trying to compose yourself.

“What more did they say?”

“That you are awesome and know everything about my stuff, but with moderation… I don’t know what they meant, but yeah, I just didn’t catch your name…"

You tell him your name with eyes open and disbelief that your friends, for the first time, did a good job, but not you… not you.

“What’s the dick thing you told me?” He asks you with a smirk.

“Aaah, nothing… being a dick… that’s it.” You say, looking to the ground with shame.

He grabs you by the chin and says, “I would never be a dick to a beautiful girl like you…”

You feel a shiver down to your spine when he touches you like that.

Oh shit…I’m already wet without even getting into the pool.

“I, I think I need to… brb…” You leave everything behind and go straight to the toilet, locking the door and sitting there.

Breathe in, breathe out.Ok, I will just grab my stuff and disappear…What did I do?

As soon as you open the door, Pedro is there waiting…

“I usually don’t do things like that; it can be the vibe, my drinks, or even Xmas. I don’t know…” He says, grabbing your hips, pushing you back to the toilet, and closing the door behind him.

“Is that what you wanted? hm" He rubs his beard on your face, searching for your mouth.

He guides your hands to his growing bulge while running his right hand from behind you, rubbing one finger over your pussy.

You moan when he rubs his finger roughly against you…

“So wet already for me…” he says in between sloppy kisses.

“Since the moment I spotted you here, yeah…” you whisper, with both hands stroking his cock over the shorts…

Then Pedro takes you slowly to the sink and sits you there, spreading your legs…“Let me see what you got, beautiful… spread more…” putting your bikini bottom aside and lowering to the same level.

You grab his wet hair with one hand while he tongue darts you deep, sucking your lips and moaning low with pleasure…

You don’t even blink, just looking down at him savoring you, such a tease.

No fucking way this is happening…

You can feel his nose rubbing against your clit; you are getting close to the edge, but suddenly people knock at the door…

“Oh dammit…” You murmur disappointedly.

Pedro stops his worship on you and tells you with a low voice, “My room isn't far... want to see what naughty presents Santa has for you?" His fingers trace small patterns on your thighs, making you shiver.

“But we need to be discreet… What’s your room number? I meet you there…”

Pedro chuckled softly, his breath tickling your ear. "Discreet, huh? I like the way you think." He leaned in closer, his lips brushing against your earlobe as he whispered, "Room 217, second floor."

Luckily nobody is at the door anymore, so you sneak out the toilet.

You try to find your girls just to quickly freak out and disappear again, but there's no sign of them.

You come back to the pool area, and Pedro isn’t there anymore; you bite your lip, get a deep breath, take your stuff, and go towards the elevator.

Room 217

You knock twice.

The door slowly creaks open, revealing Pedro standing there, his shirt half unbuttoned, revealing his chiseled chest. He's holding a bottle of tequila and two glasses. His eyes roamed over your body hungrily.

Stepping aside to let you in, he whispers suggestively, "Merry Christmas to me, indeed." He gently shut the door behind you, his free hand trailing down your arm. "Hope you like tequila..."

“Hm, yeah, better be careful… right?

Pedro's eyebrows shot up, a devilish grin spreading across his face at the memory. "Ah, but that was just a sample of what I can do sober. Imagine what I'm capable of now, all loosened up." Doing a little dance…

Then he pours two generous glasses of tequila, sliding one towards you before picking up his own. "I've got a list of naughty things I want to do with you..."

Oh, he wants to play a game…I’m just gonna faint 😮‍💨

“Oh… tell me more…” You push him to the sofa, sitting on his lap.

A deep, sexy chuckle escapes his lips as he lets you push him onto the sofa, his hands immediately finding your curves. "Mmm, you're being a naughty girl..." He takes a sip of his tequila, then offers you the glass. "You first."

“My list? With you... it is an extensive list. Better you tell me yours first…”

Pedro leans back into the sofa, a confident smirk playing on his lips as his hands continue their exploration of your body. "Well, since you asked..." He takes another sip of tequila, his eyes never leaving yours.

The motherfucker is a tease; I knew it… I knew it!!!

His hands wander up and down your body possessively as he continues. "I want to see those perfect lips wrapped around my... gifts." He punctuates his words with a gentle bite to your neck.

"Then I want you bent over this fireplace mantel while I take you from behind, watching your reflection in that mirror across the room.” His fingers trailed along your waistband suggestively.

“Wow…You really don’t waste time on your list, huh?” You start unbuttoning his shirt all the way down.

He chuckles, his eyes locking onto yours as he sees you unbuttoning his shirt, revealing his chest and abs one button at a time. He helps you finish the job, tossing his shirt aside. "Guess not..." He growls, pulling you closer.

Pedro's lips curled into a wicked smile as you slowly head down towards his chest, his hand lightly gripping the back of your neck.

"Well, since you asked so nicely..." you murmur approvingly, pressing your lips against his nipple.

He let out a low groan as you began to suck, his other hand coming up to gently stroke your cheek. "Fuck, just like that..."

You let out a soft laugh. “So… you like some worship on your nipples, huh?”

A deep, sultry chuckle escaped his lips, his voice husky with desire. "You're learning my secrets, aren't you?" His hand urges your head towards his other nipple. "Not just my nipples... but every part of me deserves some worship."

“That’s how I make my way down…” you whisper.

His breath hitches as you whisper your intentions, his body tingling with excitement. "Well then, I can hardly wait to feel those heavenly lips trailing lower..." He guides your face down his torso, his abs clenching instinctively under your touch.

As you kiss and nuzzle your way down his abdomen, Pedro's hands rest lightly on your head, his fingers gently guiding you. "Lower... lower... yes, just like that..." He hisses as your lips brush against the waistband of his red swim trunks.

You slowly peel back his zipper, the sound echoing in the room. Pedro's breathing grows heavier as you reach inside and wrap your hand around his thick, hard length. He lets out a low groan as you pull it free, his eyes rolling back in his head. "Fuck... oh god..."

Pedro's cock twitches eagerly as you firm your grip, the skin velvety soft, a prominent vein runs along the underside. The head is broad and round, flushed a deep red, with a tiny slit oozing with pre-cum. His hips giving an involuntary thrust forward, seeking more of your touch. "Don't tease me, beautiful..." He breathes out, voice strained with lust. "Put those gorgeous lips to work."

As you bob your head up and down, Pedro's hands tighten on your shoulders, his fingers digging into your skin. He starts to thrust gently…”Fuck... You look so beautiful with your mouth full of me..." He pants, his abs flexing with each thrust. His hands move to cup your jaw, his thumbs caressing your cheeks as he guides your movements. The wet sounds of your sucking fill the room, mixed with his guttural groans.

I take you out of my mouth for a few seconds. “You taste so good, but I don’t want you to reach the edge, hottie…”

His breath catches at your words. "Mmm, teasing me now? You know exactly what you're doing..." His tone is a mix of both frustration and deep satisfaction. "Yeah, don't make me come just yet…”

“Yes, let’s work on your list…” You say, sitting back on his lap, cleaning the corner of your mouth with his precum.

Pedro's eyes darken with desire as he watches you clean your mouth with his precum. "Fuck, you're so naughty... I love it." He reaches out and runs his thumb over your lips, spreading it around before leaning in to claim your mouth in a deep, passionate kiss.

“So…What did you say about the fireplace? Second of the list…”

Pedro smirks mischievously. "Ah, the fireplace... I was thinking we could move our little session over there." He stands up, lifting you with him effortlessly. "I want to bend you over the mantel and fuck you from behind, watching your reflection in that mirror across the room.”

Pedro carries you to the fireplace, setting you down gently on your feet. He spins you around and bends you over the ornate wooden mantel, the cool marble pressing against your skin. "Keep those elbows locked," he commands, a firm hand on the small of your back.

Not happy with that, you just suggest, “Why don’t you just take me to the bed?”

"Because the bed is too ordinary," Pedro murmurs, running his hands down your thighs possessively, "I want to do this here, where I can watch myself take you in the mirror." He steps back to admire the view, his eyes roaming over your arched back and rounded bottom.

With a mischievous tone, you ask him… ”and you like to watch yourself?”

"Right now I’d love watching myself fucking you," Pedro confesses, his voice low and husky with desire. "Seeing my cock disappear into your pussy, feeling your body shake as I pound into you... it's fucking incredible." He reaches out to run his fingers through your hair, tangling them in the loose strands.

"And the mirror," he continues, his other hand reaching out to the mantel to steady himself as he lines himself up with your entrance. "Watching myself push into you, feeling your tight little hole squeeze around my dick as I fuck you hard against the mirror... fuck, it's going to be perfect."

With a deep grunt, Pedro thrusts forward, sheathing his hard length inside you in one smooth motion. He pauses for a moment, savoring the feeling of being buried inside you before he starts to move, his hips slamming against your ass as he fucks you hard against the mirror.

"Look at us in the mirror..." He reaches around to cup your breasts while continuing his steady pace. "Watch how beautifully you take my cock. Those whimpers you're making... fuck, you're perfect." His pace quickens, his breath becoming ragged against your ear.

His fingers pinch and tug at your nipples as he fucks you relentlessly, the sound of skin slapping against skin echoing through the room. The mirror fogs up from your panting breaths and his sweat, obscuring parts of the reflection but not enough to hide the lewd scene unfolding before it.

In between moans, you beg him to take you to the bed; you can’t stand your legs anymore with so much pressure.

Pedro growls, pulling out of you abruptly and spinning you around to face him. He lifts you up and carries you to the bed, tossing you onto it before climbing on top of you. "I need to be inside you again, now."

He settles between your thighs, his hard cock pressing urgently against your slick folds. "Wrap your legs around me," he demands, easing the tip of his shaft teasingly along your slit. As you comply, he grips your wrists, pinning them above your head with one strong hand.

Pedro leans down, capturing your lips in a fierce, dominant kiss. His tongue pushes past your lips, claiming your mouth as his other hand guides his cock to your entrance. In one powerful thrust, he buries himself inside you again, swallowing your gasp with his mouth.

He breaks the kiss, his eyes blazing with lust as he begins to move, thrusting into you with deep, measured strokes that make the bed creak beneath you. "Fuck, your pussy feels amazing," he grits out, angling his hips to hit that perfect spot inside you.

Pedro quickens his pace, his grip on your wrists tightening as he chases his release. The room fills with the sound of his hips slapping against yours and your breathy moans. "I'm going to fill you up so full," he pants, nipping at your jaw. One of his hands slides between your bodies, finding your clit and circling it with his thumb. "I want to feel you come on my cock…”

"Fuck, you're getting tighter... Is this what you need, baby?" His thumb presses harder against your clit as he fucks you with deep, forceful strokes, the intensity in his eyes unwavering. "Come for me..."

Pedro feels your walls clench around him, and he growls, "That's it, cum on my cock." He slams into you one last time, burying himself as deep as he can go. His thumb circles your clit frantically as his release builds. "Fuck, I'm close..."

With a loud grunt, Pedro explodes inside you, his cock pulsing as he fills you with his hot seed. His thumb presses hard against your clit, sending you over the edge as you scream in pleasure, your pussy milking his cock for everything he's got.

He stays buried inside you, his thumb slowly circling your sensitive bundle of nerves as he nuzzles his face against yours, breathing heavily. "Damn it, I will tell your friends you are amazing… they were right..." He murmurs, his voice muffled against your neck.

After a moment, Pedro slowly pulls out of you, his softening cock slipping free from your still-quivering pussy. He collapses beside you on the bed, pulling you into his arms and holding you close. "Can we keep up with this list?" You say.

He kisses the top of your head, his heart still racing from their intense encounter. "I think we should keep going, yeah. There are a lot more things on that list I want to try with you." He pulls out his phone and starts typing, a smirk playing on his lips.

“Hey, I need to check on the girls...” you say, worried about them being away for a couple of hours already.

Pedro looks up from his phone, his expression softening. "Of course, go check on your friends. I'll be here when you get back. But don't be too long, okay?" He says giving you a little wink.

As soon as you go back to your room, you find your friends passed out on the bed.

Well, I guess you will leave a note at the door saying thanks for the little help, and you guys will catch up on the next day because you won’t sleep in the same room for a while… The list is endless.

😈

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Thanks for being here and read our delusional fics, likes are appreciate, comments even more. If you want to ask anything, blast it!

[4ever-feral]

SIR!!!!! THE CHIN RUB???? HIS EYES LOOKING UP AT HER???? IM SAT IM SEATED!!! 🧎🏽‍♀️🧎🏽‍♀️

[absurdthirst]

A Roman Romp {Deiter Bravo *AS* Marcus Acacius x F!Reader}

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 9.9k

Warnings: Drug mentions, power imbalance, fucking the boss, clitoral play, fingering, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, cream pie, oral sex (male receiving), derogatory names, role play, rough sex, Dieter being unbelievably bad with emotions, costume play.

Comments: You've found a niche as Dieter Bravo's assistant. Taking care of him and sleeping with him work surprisingly easy until his new role as a Roman general makes you completely feral for him.

A/N: Completely inspired by the sexy, bloody gifs.

Co-written with @storiesofthefandomlovers

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|| MasterList || Dieter Bravo MasterList ||

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“Deeper. Raspier.” You decide, ignoring the frown of the man in front of you as you contemplate the voice pitch he has changed into. Dieter Bravo loves to experiment with his voice and facial expressions, but being the consummate narcissist that he is, he doesn’t like it when it’s not immediately loved by all. You don’t work that way and he knows it. It’s why you are permitted to run through the dialogue with him and read the scripts when most assistants just scheduled appointments and bring the actors they work for the page changes. “This is a man who has screamed throughout the bloodiest battles, who has inhaled the smoke from a hundred thousand fires. He’s hardened by battle, by death, and he shows it.” You explain, painting a picture for him to visualize from the comfort of his plush designer sofa in his Sherman Oaks mansion.

Dieter nods, shifting to sit up and he clears his throat. “You’re right. He’s seen shit we could never imagine. He needs to be tortured but capable.” Dieter decides and rolls his shoulders. His eyes focus on the script and he says “I declare for Rome. For her Emperor. For her people.” He deepens his voice, letting it catch to be raspier than before. “How was that?” He asks, face softening as he expectedly looks at you.

Despite the massive ego, the demands, and his ability to act like a twelve year old boy at times, Dieter is surprisingly needy. He craves acceptance, like a feral cat who spits and hisses when you get too close, but is desperate to be loved on their own terms. You deal with him delicately at times, more harshly at others, all while understanding that neediness. It’s what made you work well for him. “That was good.” You nod in approval.

He thanks you with a slightly dazed, soppy smile, like he's grateful for the approval. Like it means the most coming from you. "Yeah?" He asks, hungry for more praise and you nod. He stares at you for a second before he looks back at the script, continuing with the new voice he's found for the character and he continues practicing his lines, his eyes drifting over to you every now and then as he seeks approval.

This time he runs through the lines without you reading the other parts, but sometimes he wants you to voice the other characters, to give him a tone to feed off of. Since the Cliff Beasts debacle and you coming to work for him, Dieter has been determined to win another Oscar and you think this might be the role to do that.

“I’m trying on the costumes this afternoon.” Dieter tells you like you didn’t already know that. You know every detail of his schedule. “I know.” You chuckle softly and he flushes slightly, “yeah. I am hoping it’s going to help me find the character posture.” He confesses, “and I get to check out my trailer before filming begins in a couple days.”

That’s code for he wants the trailer to feel like his own personal retreat so you need to pack up all of his favorite things. Like you hadn’t already planned that. “I will make sure that you can relax.” You promise, shooting him a soft smile. “Your favorite incense and candles, that serenity stone and I’ll pack up your favorite sheets to bring with us today.”

“You’re the best.” Dieter compliments you and it’s a rare occasion but he’s sincere as he offers you a soft smile. “I’m gonna go smoke a little before we go to the studio. Can you go get some tacos for me?” He asks, “carnitas.” He decides with a nod as he relaxes against the sofa.

“Sure thing, boss.” You wink at him and put a little away in your walk as you leave the room, knowing his eyes are on your ass. This thing you have with Dieter is incredibly easy and complicated at the same time. You sleep together, pretty damn often, but you aren’t his girlfriend. He’s sworn off relationships since Kate and Anika, but it’s not like you can blame him. You get sex and as a bonus, it puts your boss into a better mood for you to deal with him professionally. It doesn’t hurt that you care about him a lot, love him really, but that’s something you would never admit to him. You know that you just fill a void in his life.

Dieter watches until you disappear and he sets his script down, rubbing his scruffy cheek. Fuck, you’re so goddamn gorgeous. Too good for him to touch you honestly and he knows he’s putting everything on the line. Losing you would mean losing his assistant but also his best friend and some of the best fucking sex he’s ever had. He can’t tell you anything about how he feels in case you’re scared off and he loses it all. With a sigh, he looks back at his script and waits for you to return like the lovesick fool he is.

It doesn’t take you long, the place where you go makes the best fucking tacos and they know how Dieter likes them. He’s ordered from there often enough while he’s high. You get some extras because he said he wanted to smoke some weed when he gets back from having his costume fitted and you know he will have the munchies. Picking up some salad because you know he won’t eat greens unless you get them. “I’m back.” You sail through the door with the paper bag and grin. “You eat and I’ll get the bag together for your trailer.”

Dieter groans at the smell of the tacos and he pats the space next to him. “Come and sit down with me, babe.” He orders, wanting you to eat as well. You run around after him all the time and he knows you don’t always remember to eat.

“Okay.” You don’t argue, just plopping down beside him and handing him the agua fresca you had ordered for him from the drink carrier. “I can eat and then I’ll make sure we get you settled into your trailer.”

Dieter reaches out to squeeze your leg. He’s always been a touchy feely kind of man, needing that physical connection. That’s why he wants sex so much. He loves to feel wanted and to be touched. “You’re the best.” He says around a mouth full of tacos.

“You might not think so when you see this.” You tease, pulling out the salad to set in front of him. He doesn’t argue but he does pout, swallowing the mouth of tacos and sighs. “Did you get that adobo dressing?” He asks hopefully, knowing he would eat anything as long as that stuff is on it. “Two of them.” You promise. “So you can have one for a salad on set.”

“Fuck yes. You’re - you’re the fucking best. No one comes close to you. Literally no other assistant is like you, babe.” Dieter praises with a mouth full of tacos. His last assistant couldn’t make him hard and he certainly couldn’t make him eat salad. He was authoritative and while Dieter likes to be submissive, when it comes to his work, he is the one in control.

You shouldn’t let the praise get to you, knowing that Dieter is always expressive when he’s happy and then can throw full tantrums when he’s not. Still, you smirk and lean forward to grab a taco for yourself after putting a straw in your own drink. “That’s why you pay me so well.” You remind him. “Don’t forget you still have to make that happy birthday video to send to your niece.” You take a sip of your drink. “I’ve already sent the gift from you. It’s a battery operated kiddie jeep. She will love it.”

Dieter nods, knowing he would have completely forgotten about her birthday. He loves his niece but his brother is a stiff prick. Always the golden child. Better at everything including being monogamous and heterosexual. He went to college, got his finance degree. Has the wife and 2.5 kids in Dallas and Dieter is…never good enough. Even when he’s won a fucking Oscar. “I gotta go see that kid soon. Make sure she’s not fucking boring like her dad.” He snorts as he wipes his mouth.

“Let me know when you want to go and I’ll work it into your schedule.” You promise, reminding yourself to remind him of it when filming ends for this movie. He always wants to go somewhere after he’s wrapped a movie. “Just let me know and I’ll take care of everything.” From his flight to the drugs, you will make sure he has everything he needs.

“Thanks.” He murmurs, unsure if he wants to deal with his family. Especially his parents. He left Texas to come to L.A when he was eighteen and he struggled until he got spotted while he was failing at being a waiter. “You need a break too. At some point.” He announces as he reluctantly digs into his salad even with the adobo smothering it.

“I get breaks.” You remind him. But it’s true you don’t get them often. Even when Dieter travels, he brings you with him. He likes having you close and it’s not something you are completely opposed to. Spending months in Croatia or China is amazing. You reach over and brush his hair back and kiss his cheek. “Thank you for eating your salad.”

He loves the praise and hates that he loves it. His life is messy and the last thing he wants to do is lose you because he ruins it with his personality. At least like this you’re at a distance. “Fucking lettuce.” He grumbles and takes another bite, tilting his cheek out so he can get another kiss.

You grin against his skin as you pepper his cheek with little kisses. You don’t mind when he’s like this. It’s sweet, even if it’s needy. Dieter so desperately wants love and for someone to adore him. He just manages to ruin every relationship he gets in when someone new shows up and showers him with attention. You know that it’s possible with your situation. You just have to deal with it.

Dieter loves the way you give him affection and he chews his salad after you pull away, he looks down at the salad, setting it down after a moment to dig into another taco. “Tacos are better.” He decides and watches as you dig into your own food.

“I know they are, baby.” He hates eating salads and you try to make it fun most of the time, but there’s no chance against tacos. “But this counterbalances the tacos. You’ve been doing so good at the gym. That sexy body needs the good stuff for all those fight scenes.”

Dieter has definitely had to put in time at the gym to make sure he’s getting in shape for this role. He had a nutritionist and personal chef come in for the past few months and he’s done pretty good building up his arms. “Yeah? You think I’ll look convincing?” He asks, eager for your approval of the body he’s been working out for.

“You’ll be amazing.” You promise him. “You already have a look that can be so authoritative, but put you in Roman armor?” You groan quietly and shake your head. “I thought Maximus was sexy, but your Marcus Acacius will blow him out of the water.”

Dieter flushes slightly, ducking his head at your praise, and he loves how you compliment him. “Yeah? You think I’ll be sexy in the costume?” He smirks, “and the sex scene.” He adds, “gonna watch me on the closed set?”

You knew there was a sex scene, but you didn’t think Dieter would want you there. “If you want me to.” You tell him. “I know that day will be a long one for you.”

Dieter nods, reaching for your hand after he wipes his clean. “I want you there. I always want you there.” He admits, “I just - you know me best in that department and I want to make sure it looks real, natural.”

You could point out that Dieter has had so many more lovers than you have, but you don’t. “You’re going to look even sexier then.” You promise. “They are going to create a new Oscar category just for you. Best Sex Scene.”

Dieter chuckles, “I fucking wish. I could win that every damn year.” He says with conviction, “especially if I was filmed with you.” He says and winks, picking up the salad to reluctantly finish it even with the dressing.

You hum in approval and quickly finish your own taco before you pat his leg gently. “Let me go get you packed up so we can leave, baby.” You murmur. “You don’t want to be late with Wardrobe.”

Dieter nods, watching you get up and his eyes drop down to your ass again as you make your way into his room to get what he needs. You do everything for him and he can’t ever pay you enough for putting up with his shit.

Less than an hour later, you have Dieter loaded up in the car and you are headed to the studio where you will be filming the fight scenes. Some of the location work will be later but they want to get the fights filmed first to give them plenty of time to work on the CGI. Dieter decided to let you drive so he could read over the script again. “Don’t worry. While you are with wardrobe, I’ll get the key to your trailer. We can take a picture outside with your name on it for you IG.”

Dieter sighs, he hates social media but he knows it’s needed for him to keep himself relevant when his industry is suddenly flooded with fucking Tik Tok stars and IG models. “Sure.” He adjusts his sunglasses on his nose as he reads over the script, “you really think the voice is right?”

“That voice went straight to my pussy.” You admit, knowing that confession will give him a smug grin. He likes knowing when something turns you on. “Yeah?” His normal voice instantly changes to the once he had practiced for Marcus and you make sure to squirm in the driver’s seat a little. “Yeah, it’s good. Panties around the world will explode.”

Dieter smirks, imagining the reaction with his fans but he doesn’t care about their panties exploding when he only wants yours to explode. Sure, it helps his career to still be considered a sex symbol but he wants you to want him more than any woman thirsting on Twitter.

You giggle quietly to yourself, guiding the car to the studio and you get parked. “Okay. Do you want to see the trailer first and figure out where it is? I can get it set up while you are in wardrobe?”

“Yeah. I wanna see if they gave me a good one or if they put me in the fucking back again.” He had a meltdown when his trailer was at the very end of the lot on his last project. He’s a fucking Oscar winner not someone doing their first fucking movie. You nod and he gets out while you gather the bags with his things. He doesn’t ask if you need help. That’s never really been his nature so you carry the bags to the trailer that’s been assigned as his. “First row. Now that’s more fucking like it.” He declares as he claps his hands.

You chuckle at his enthusiasm and follow him into the trailer. It’s perfectly clean and sterile in that brand new kind of way and it will bother Dieter if it stays that way for too long. “I’ll get all this set up to your liking.” You promise.

Dieter looks around before his eyes find yours again, "that would be awesome." He declares, "oh and get me some Kit Kats. You know I love snacking on those ever since Cliff Beasts." He shivers slightly at that movie. Something he took in the desperation of the pandemic when he was stuck at home alone and was losing his mind.

“Kit Kats.” You nod and walk up to him, sensing that he needs a little affection. You caress his cheek and press your lips to his. “You are going to be amazing.” You promise him. “We will make sure this is the best film shoot you’ve ever had.”

Dieter appreciates you and he sighs, “I better get to costume to try everyone on.” He hates costume design but he needs to get there since it’s his time and they will need to do adjustments. “I better go, babe.” He kisses your cheek and exits the trailer, disappearing while you sort out his trailer.

You run and get the KitKats and make four more trips from the car for the bags of stuff for Dieter’s trailer. Stripping the basic sheets off the bed, you replace them with the Egyptian cotton ones that are 2500 thread count, which he loves. Shoving the pillows that were on the bed into a small compartment because he prefers down alternative pillows and putting the soothing weighted blanket over it all. The candle and incense is already burning and there’s a whiff of sage still, letting Dieter know that you’ve done all the things he claims helps clear his mind and calm him down. The basket full of KitKats next to the room temperature San Pellegrino bottles that he prefers when his throat hurts. The small refrigerator is stocked with other drinks and you look around satisfied that he will be comfortable.

Dieter stares at himself in the mirror in his costume and he smirks, knowing you’re going to lose your mind when you see the armor on his body. It’s surprisingly heavy and he didn’t think they’d use metal but they have. He likes the weight of it, it helps him get into character a bit more. The costume designers take notes on adjustments and he changes back, making his way to his trailer. “Fuck. You are amazing.” He compliments as you fluff the pillows you brought from his home.

You hum in delight and turn back to look at him. “That’s what I’m here for.” You motion to the trailer. “Think you can decompress here?”

He nods, groaning as he lays down on the bed. “Come here.” He opens his arm to invite you to lay with him and you follow his order, making him sigh and he shifts to curl around you. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.” He confesses, burying his face in your neck.

“Be late.” You tease, stroking his side and chest and you let him hold you. “Wear the same thing for a week and eat nothing but tacos.” You enjoy taking care of Dieter and for all his selfishness, you appreciate the moments like this where he acknowledges everything you do for him. “How did costume fitting go?” You ask, sensing that he’s in a pretty mellow mood so it must have been good.

Dieter loves how you touch him and he nuzzles into your neck, pressing a soft kiss there. “It went well. They just have to do some minor adjustments. I- I am worried that I look - that I’m too old to do this part. The fighting. Will I look believable?” He asks, a frown on his face as he pulls back to look at you.

“Completely believable.” You promise, reaching up to run your fingers through the longer curls that he’s grown out for this role. “You will look like the war-hardened general. Experienced and trained by years of fighting.” You remind him. “Generals have wisdom. They’ve experienced heartache and lost men. They are supposed to have some gray in their hair and beards.” You bring your fingers down to scratch through his facial hair, knowing how much he likes that. “They might have to add some more. You don’t have quite enough to be that salt and pepper look, if that’s what they want. You’re gonna win another Oscar. I just know it.”

Dieter loves how confident you are in his abilities and that makes him feel more secure, makes him a better actor. “Thank you.” He whispers, leaning in to kiss your jaw. “You - I don’t know what I’d do without you.” He murmurs, closing his eyes. You hum, continuing to stroke his hair until he blurts out, “I want Chinese for dinner.”

You are so used to the way that Dieter suddenly shifts gears that it’s nearly automatic. “The fancy or the nasty?” You ask, wondering if he’s wanting the upscale Chinese fusion place or the tiny little hole in the wall that makes the best egg rolls you’ve ever eaten in your life.

He ponders it for a second, “the nasty.” He offers you a smirk. “The greasy egg rolls. The fried rice.” He groans at the thought, “then tomorrow I’ll be good. I’m training tomorrow.” He tells you like you don’t know his schedule off by heart.

“Sword training.” You agree. “Bright and early at seven.” He groans pitifully and pouts at the early morning call. “I’ll make sure that you have a powerful protein smoothie first thing.”

Dieter groans, “smoothies and sword training. Seven? Fuckkkkk.” He moans and curls around you again. “Baby baby baby. Let’s go back to mine and then we can get dirty Chinese food and then I can eat my dessert.” He smirks, sliding his down between your legs to cup your cunt through your leggings.

“Yeah?” You moan quietly, always loving how his large hands feel on your body. “We can call and pick it up on the way.” You don’t call it home, because technically you don’t live with him although you spend most nights at his house. “Maybe a bath after and I can rub your back before you fall asleep.”

“Fuck you spoil me. I gotta call Sally and tell her to give you a damn raise.” He groans, telling you he wants his manager to make sure you’re looked after. He presses his fingers against your clit through your leggings, wanting to hear you moan again.

You don’t bite your lip, knowing that Dieter doesn’t want you to suppress your sounds. He’s always greedy for the sounds you make, greedy for the approval. His fingers press insistently against your bundle of nerves expertly. “Dee, baby, that feels so good.” You praise breathlessly.

He loves hearing your praise. He’s greedy for it and he hisses when you lean in to kiss his jaw. His fingers continue to press against your bundle of nerves, pressing and rubbing, wanting you to fall apart for him.

“Dee, baby.” You arch your hips up under his hand, grinding your clit down against his fingers. “You’re gonna make me cum. Fuck, I’m going to ruin these panties.”

He wants to hear your sweet cry. He groans, hardening in his pants, “I’ll buy you more.” He promises, continuing to rub you through the material. “Cum for me, sweetheart. Want to hear those sweet fucking moans.” He urges you on.

It doesn’t take long when Dieter wants to make you cum. He’s a skilled enough lover to have learned you, since you’ve slept with him so much. You hold onto his arm, gasping in pleasure until your toes curl. “Deeeeee!” You cry out, closing your eyes when the wave of pleasure washes over you and heat fires through your core.

He hisses when your thighs squeeze his hand, keeping him trapped there while you squirm through your orgasm. “Fuck you’re so pretty when you cum.” He coos, watching you with fascination.

You doubt that. Sometimes you are a little disbelieving that he finds you sexy, but you understand that he might want you to think that so you continue to sleep with him. Whining drowsily, you pull him close and press your lips to his. “Do you want to break in this bed now or go home?”

Dieter smirks against your lips, "come on baby. Let's do it. Break in the bed then we will get Chinese food." It sounds like a fantasy he's jerked off to thinking about you. He is already hardening in his pants and he groans when you reach down to squeeze his bulge. "How do you want me?" He asks, "cowboy? doggy? waterfall? little dipper? the socket?" He lists off positions with raised eyebrows.

You squeeze his cock again and then slide your hand under the waist band to wrap around his shaft. Dieter moans and he twitches in your hand. “How do you want me?” You ask. “You know it’s the Big Dipper with this cock.” You tease, knowing how much he loves being praised for how big he feels inside you. “Do you want to fuck me? Or have me do the work?”

Dieter loves to be a pillow prince but right now, he wants to fuck you. "Strip off and lay on your side." He demands, his voice lowering as his cock twitches at the thought of sliding inside of you. You're so hot and wet, like fucking velvet, and you make his toes curl.

You have no problem stripping for him, he’s seen you naked more times than you can count. Pulling your bra down your arms, you toss it to the floor after pulling your shirt off and quickly strip down the leggings and ruined panties. “Are you going to fuck me wearing clothes or are you stripping too?”

Dieter wants to be naked too. He loves being naked. He would spend all weekend naked if he could. He shuffles off the bed and scrambles to pull his shirt over his head, shoving his sweats down to expose his hard cock. You lay down and he shifts to lay behind you, reaching down to grip his cock. He pumps himself a few times, "lift your leg, baby. I want to slide inside that wet pussy."

Lifting your leg gives him the access he wants and you reach back for his hip. Wanting to touch him as he rocks his hips forward. “It’s so wet.” You promise. “I need you inside me, Dieter.”

He shuffles closer, notching himself at your entrance as he pushes into you. "Fuckkk." He groans as your walls envelop him and he pushes deeper until he's nudging your cervix. "Fuck. So fucking wet." He lets go of his cock and grabs your leg, gripping it to keep it elevated.

“Shit.” Your body lights up when he pushes inside you. Taking him up on his offer of sex about four months after you started working for him had been the best decision you ever made. You squeeze your tits and moan, clenching down around him. “Feels so fucking big, baby. You fill me up perfectly.”

Your praise makes him twitch inside you. He loves it when you praise him, it makes his heart flutter and his stomach clench. "Fuck, you're so tight. Tightest little pussy I've ever fucked." He confesses and he has lost count of how many sexual partners he has had. He hadn't ventured out of your bedroom since a few weeks after you started sleeping together. He has become addicted to your body and he can't keep away from your bed. His fingers squeeze your flesh as he starts to rock into you.

You lean your head back against his shoulder and moan. “Easy to say when-“ you gasp when he pushes deep. “Your fat cock makes anything tight.” Your hand reaches back to caress his face, knowing how much Dieter loves to be stroked and caressed while fucking. “God baby, you just ruin me.” You honestly don’t know how you will get over losing the sexual part of your relationship when Dieter gets bored, but you know it will come eventually. Hell, you’re surprised it hasn’t already happened if you’re honest with yourself. But regular sex is something Dieter craves and you have never turned him down, your own sex drive is pretty high.

Dieter loves the praise, fuck, he loves hearing the way he makes you feel spill from your lips. His thrusts become harder and he hisses when you clench around him. “Fuck.” He groans and turns his head to kiss your palm, his other arm is trapped beneath you but he doesn’t care.

You feel that need in the frantic push of his hips. He’s craving the closeness he feels from sex and you push your ass back, encouraging him. “Yes baby, need this. Needed you to fuck me.” You pant. “Always need it.”

He grips your leg, shifting it more towards your stomach and he groans at the new angle. You’re so much tighter like this. “Fuck baby. You - you’re the best. The fucking best.” He murmurs, kissing along your shoulder.

The weight of him on top of you presses you into the bed, making it harder to push back against him, but you just squeeze him tight every time he thrusts back into you. “Deeeee.” You whine, loving the angle of his cock battering against your cervix. He feels like he’s in your guts when he pushes his hope forward. “Fuck baby, that cock is soooooo good.”

Dieter shifts his hips again, trying to find that spot inside you that makes you scream his name. He wants the entire fucking studio to know who is fucking you like this. He groans when you squeal on his best thrust and he focuses on that spot, wanting you to cum for him.

He’s demanding today. Your moans and squeals come easily, fingers gripping the covering on the bed. You’ll have to make it again later, but you don’t care. He feels amazing pounding into you against that spot. “Dee- Dieter- I’m- I’m gonna-“ you pant, trying to talk while he’s fucking you but it’s nearly impossible. “Oh shit!” You scream, clamping down around his cock when you feel the pressure suddenly reach its peak.

The way you gush around him has him panting as he tries to work himself into your cunt as you grip him like a vice. “Fuck fuck fuck.” He hisses, pushing deep. He’s never been great at stamina without drugs so sober, he’s thrusting into you a half dozen more times until he’s painting your walls with his cum.

You groan softly, feeling the hot pulse of his cum filling you. You have an IUD, and Dieter has regular STI testing for insurance reasons and you love that he feels comfortable enough to not use protection with you. “That’s it baby, that’s it.” You reach back and hold his head, wanting to touch him as he rides out his orgasm and collapses on top of you with a breathless huff.

“Fuck. I really don’t pay you enough.” He chuckles breathlessly. “Best fucking pussy in L.A.” He compliments while he’s drunk on his orgasm and he kisses your shoulder, enjoying the feel of your hot cunt wrapped around his softening cock.

You snort at his comment and relax against the pillow. It could be ten minutes or an hour before Dieter moves but you always love the way he collapses into you bonelessly. “If I charged you for my pussy, you wouldn’t be able to afford it.”

Dieter snorts, “probably not.” He doesn’t deny that. Sure, he’s had sex workers in his bed before but you are his assistant and there’s an emotional connection he hasn’t found before. He’s addicted to it and he can’t let you go. He is excited to start this new project with you by his side.

****

“Dieter has an interview at twelve that day, so that shouldn’t be a problem.” You tap a pencil against your notepad as you pour over his schedule. “As long as he doesn’t go over we can make it to the studio by four and then have him ready.” His manager is on the other side of the zoom call, video feed in the corner of your computer, wanting to squeeze in a late night talk show to talk about the movie being released next month, while also teasing about this movie. “Will that work for them?”

“Yeah. We can make that work.” His manager and his PR team agree and you add it to his schedule. “We can also get him on that podcast in the next week, if he has a gap. It’s about sexual exploration and of course people know he is quite active. I think it will develop some big hit content. As long as he doesn’t talk about drugs.” His manager sighs.

“He’s been doing a lot better.” You remind them. “Working out for this film is doing wonders for him, even if he complains. He’s just smoking a little weed on the off days.” You look over his schedule again. “On Thursday he is supposed to have a half day of shooting, if we can reschedule his meeting with the accountant, he could do the podcast then?”

His manager hums and looks over the PR team who nods, confirming it with the podcast booker. “That will work. So that’s his schedule for the next month. Thanks for all your hard work. I know he’s not the easiest to handle.” His manager snorts just as Dieter opens the door to his trailer. He’s still in costume, covered in fake blood and dirt and he’s exhausted. He slumps onto the sofa with a groan.

“Okay, I’ll get back with you all later.” You promise, closing out the Zoom call and turning to look over at Dieter. It’s the first time you’ve properly seen him in costume and your mouth drops open. “Holy shit.” You hiss, clenching your thighs together as you take in the raw, rough and frankly sexy view of Dieter as a Roman general.

Dieter doesn’t notice your interest in his costume, rubbing his forehead as he is hot from the fighting. He’s exhausted. It’s been days of trying to get the scene just right. Including more takes than he’s ever known to cover the reaction of the crowd, of the emperor, of his lover in the stands. “It’s been a long fucking day.” He whines, opening one eye to look at you.

“Yeah?” Your voice is a little raspy, making you clear your throat as you sit up straighter and bite your lip. “It’s been a long day, baby?” You ask, wishing for a moment that Dieter was a method actor that stayed in character. Wanting to hear that voice he had developed for Marcus Acacius while he’s wearing that costume. “You need me to take care of you?”

He opens both eyes and smirks, seeing the way your eyes drop down to his costume. “Does this do it for you?” He asks slyly, standing up from the sofa and he brushes his costume down. His voice deepens as he asks you, “you want me to fuck you wearing this?” Instantly interested in this visceral reaction from you. 

You shiver slightly, his voice changing to the authoritative tone he had practiced with you. His eyes are hardening as he looks at you. “Yes.” You admit immediately. “We can- I can ride you.” You offer, cunt dripping at the thought.

His cock hardens in his briefs under the tunic and he stiffens his spine, wanting to enjoy this role play with you. “Stand up and strip. I want to see you.” He demands, “I want to see what the emperor has gifted me for winning my battle.”

Shit. A whimper escapes you, biting your lip even harder when he slips into role play as he watches you expectantly. You reach for your shirt and drag it over your head to drop to the floor. Wishing you had worn a dress today. “Too bad they aren’t using me as an extra.” You moan. “Pulling off a Roman dress would be sexy.”

“Fuck. I could ask wardrobe for an extra.” He says as his eyes take in your tits and he breaks character for a moment. When you’re naked in front of him, he straightens his back again. “Kneel before your general and tell him your sins.” He demands, “tell him what your weeping pussy yearns for that angers the gods.” His voice is deep and authoritative.

You have no idea if that is anything remotely like a Roman general would say, but you are quick to drop down to your knees in front of him. You bow your head, feigning embarrassment, and there might be a little of the genuine emotion mixed in. Your reaction to his costume is so physical. “You, general.” You moan quietly. “I wish for the general to take his frustrations out on my body. To use my cunt.”

Dieter knows he should be more like a general but he wants to tease you since you’re turned on by this display. By his character. “You’re nothing but a servant. You are nothing to men like me. Someone to fetch my wine and let me fuck your cunt. You want to please your general?” He asks as he reaches down to pull his hard cock from his briefs. He pumps himself and shifts closer to you, “you’re going to suck my cock.” He demands, “and pray the gods forgive you for your lust.”

It’s demeaning and sexy because most of the time Dieter is a whiny, submissive mess who does what you say, but right now he’s in charge. Except he’s not Dieter Bravo, not completely. He’s his character, Marcus Acacius. You open your mouth immediately, your cunt clenching when he pushes the head of his cock onto your tongue and past your lips. Making you moan as you close your eyes. He’s a little salty from sweat but that only adds to the little scene he’s acting out.

He groans as you take him into your mouth but it’s not enough. He reaches down to grab the back of your neck. “You’re not taking my cock like a hungry, needy, little whore. Show me how much you fucking want it.” He demands, rocking his hips to push deeper into your mouth.

You gasp and sputter around his cock, loving the almost ruthless way he is pushed down your throat. You swallow around him, making him groan and you feel your pussy start to drip onto the floor of the trailer. The scene is obscene and you love it, eyes watering as you look up at his ‘dirty and bloody’ face.

His brow is furrowed as he watches you, makeup on his face making him look fierce and he hisses when you swallow around him. “Fuck. Look at you. I bet your cunt is dripping onto the floor, isn’t it? Knowing you are sucking the cock of a general. Someone you’d never be able to be near unless you’re pouring my wine or taking my cock.” He chuckles breathlessly, slapping your cheek.

Your body shivers in goosebumps and you whimper around him. Your nipples are hard and aching and you want to reach between your thighs to rub your clit, but you want to prolong the pleasure. Saliva is dripping down your chin and you bob your head eagerly as you moan around him again. So turned on that you feel like you might cum right now.

Dieter twitches in your mouth, loving the roleplay. It's not really been something that he has explored due to his occupation. "Fuck. Your mouth is the Elysian Fields. Shit. Taking it so well." He compliments you, bending over you to squeeze your breast.

You hollow your cheeks, pressing your tongue to the underside of his cock. Moaning around his length again as your saliva slick jaw works to take him deeper. Wanting to see how long he can last in your mouth before he is pulling out to fuck you.

"Fuck. I - I don't want to-" He loses his character for a moment as he pulls out of your mouth, "I want to fuck you. Get on the bed and show me how much this little slut wants a general to fuck her." He demands, his cock slick with saliva and he wants to cum inside you.

You love the tone and honestly, it’s a little bit of a turn on to hear him call you a slut like that. Dieter doesn’t usually ever use derogatory names unless he’s talking about himself, but this is sexy. You want him to fuck you from behind, but you want to see the costume. Climbing on the bed and spreading your legs wide while you are on your back, you wait for him to react.

Dieter bites his lip, watching your chest heave and he chuckles at how eager you are for him to fuck you like this. “Look at you. Fucking dripping onto the sheets. Hungry for this General’s cock.” He mocks you as he stands at the end of the bed. He grabs your thighs, dragging you down to the edge of the bed. “You’re going to take whatever I give you.” He orders and grips his cock, positioning himself at your entrance before he pushes inside you in one thrust.

Your cry is loud and you don’t care who hears you. It’s not unusual for cast and crew to hear the sounds of sex coming from Dieter’s hotel room or trailer so no one ever expects any less from him. The snap of his hips is more aggressive and your cunt clenches down around him in pleasure as your fingers twist in the sheets. “Fuck- fuck yes!”

He can see how desperate you are for him to fuck you and he loves it. He focuses on being his character, imagining how roughly he’d fuck someone with adrenaline from the battle racing through him. “Fuck you’re so tight. Such a good little whore for me.” He praises as he grabs your legs and straightens them against his body so he can feel even bigger inside you.

Your eyes roll back because of the angle. His cock pushing deeper and kissing your womb. It pinches slightly but the pleasure overwhelms any pain. “G-gods!” You manage, finding it hard to think about anything but how fucking fierce he looks over you. His brows are pinched together and it makes him look furious, adding to the effect of the costume.

His body is still covered in fake dirt and blood, sweat beading on his forehead, and he looks down as your tits jiggle with each move and your mouth is open in pleasure. If you were a Roman god, you’d be Venus. “Taking my cock. Taking your general’s cock like a good slut. You’re hungry for it, aren’t you? Bet you sat there wet and waiting for me to come back from battle. Fuck you hard and make you cum after my frustration in battle.” He grunts, squeezing your legs as he rocks impossibly harder.

You moan and nod. “Yes, General.” You pant out, reaching up and squeezing your left tit as he fucks you. “Waiting for you to come back. Thinking of you.” Your pussy is gushing and Dieter is playing up the part beautifully. You had never thought of role play with him before but it’s perfect.

Your gushing cunt has his cock sliding in and out of you with ease and his skin slaps against your thighs. “Fuck. So good. Feel so fucking good.” He groans and squeezes your calves. He hisses and slaps your flesh, “you gonna be a good girl for your general? You gonna cum for me?”

“Yes. Fuck yes.” You gasp out, knowing that will be easy to do. “Dee- general.” You moan, correcting yourself when he squeezes your thigh and grunts in disapproval when you almost say his name. He obviously likes playing the general right now and you will oblige him. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum.”

He wants to see it, hear it, feel it. He groans your name and slaps your thigh, wanting you to fall apart around him. You pant, getting closer and your walls flutter around his cock. “That’s it. That’s it.” He grunts, sliding his hand lower to rub your clit. “Cum for me.” He demands, wanting to hear it, “cum for your general.”

He clenches his jaw and his nostrils flare. It's so goddamn sexy and powerful that the sight of it makes you cum. Your cry is strangled, caught in your throat while your body bucks and heaves under him. Soaking his cock and you vaguely hope you don't ruin his costume as you fall apart.

You clamp down on his cock and your cry has to be heard on the entire lot as you soak his cock. "Fuck, you are - shit. Good girl. Such a good little whore for me. Gonna fill you up now. Don't care if you get knocked up. Will make sure you are looked after by the Emperor." He promises, still in character. "Fuck, I'm gonna - gonna cum." He pants, clenching his eyes as he pushes into you, thrusting a half dozen more times before he can't hold off. He pushes deep as he starts to cum, a whine escaping his lips as he breaks character.

You moan softly, watching his face relax and he literally changes from the character he was portraying to the actor that you work for and sleep with. His shoulder slump and his eyes shift back to a more soulful gaze, glazed over with pleasure as he rocks his hips forward to push every drop of cum into your pulsing walls. “Fuck, Dee.” You can’t help but giggle, your entire body tingling from the pure adrenaline of your orgasm. “That was- is your sex scene going to be like that?”

Dieter inhales deeply, his spine tingling from the orgasm, and he snorts, shaking his head as he looks down at you. "No. No. Fuck." He shakes his head, trying to get control of himself after some great fucking sex. "It's gonna be boring. She rides me, her naked, me in armor." He tells you and you nod, "not like this." He caresses your legs, "not like this."

You hum, smirking slightly and you reach down to caress the armored chest of his costume. “Well then, why don’t I ride you in your costume before you film, so you can imagine I’m the one on top of you?” You suggest, not even remotely upset by the idea of fucking him again like this. Your pussy clenches down around his softening cock. “Anything I can do to help you.”

Dieter smirks, "Jesus, you'll have me hardening in the damn sock thinking about you but fuck...I can bring the costume back to the trailer another day." He decides and reaches for your hand to kiss your palm. "Have I ever told you that I love you?" He asks softly, knowing you deserve to know how he feels.

Dieter says he loves you all the time, most often after you do something for him he had expected you to refuse. It’s glib and flippant, not real so you don’t ever tell him how it hurts you when he does because you know he doesn’t love love you. “I could stand to hear it more.” You admit, heart twisting and you cup his cheek when he puts your hand against it. “Because I love you too.”

Your adoring gaze makes his heart flutter and he’s reminded once again how he cannot live without you. You’re his rock and you keep him on track, not letting him spiral when things go wrong. He sighs, “not like I want you to” and lets go of your hand to pull out of you. He can’t say how he really feels and he dejectedly tucks his cock away.

The ever shifting moods of Dieter reminds you that he isn’t yours and you decide to just giggle to cover the flare of hurt. “Of course not.” You hum. “That wouldn’t fit your reputation.” You sit up and reach for a towel. “Do you want a snack?” You ask, moving back into caretaker mode.

Dieter watches you shuffle off the bed, reaching for your panties and he sighs, “you don’t get it. I don’t mean- whatever. It’s whatever.” He huffs and decides to head back onto set and find himself something to drink.

You frown when he leaves the trailer before you can put yourself back together. Wondering why he seems so shiftless right now, if he’s feeling guilty about something. You know that he’s not great at expressing himself and sometimes acts out like a child would. He doesn’t like being emotionally vulnerable. You decide to go to the set and see if you can help him.

Dieter is nursing a black coffee when you arrive on set and he is sitting, waiting for the other actors to come back from their break. You walk over to him and he stares at the cup in his hand. “Sorry for - for that.” He manages to get out like it’s painful to say.

“Don’t worry about it.” The last thing you need is for Dieter to think you are mad at him. He needs to concentrate on the scenes being filmed today and hopefully by the time he’s done, whatever is upsetting him will have passed. “Do you need anything? Are you hungry? You didn’t eat much this morning.” His blood sugar might be low. “I brought you a Kit Kat.” You pull the candy bar out of your bag and offer it to him.

He looks up at you in surprise and takes the chocolate, undoing the wrapper after you take his coffee and he groans as he chews it, not realizing how hungry he was. You stand there in silence and Dieter hands you the wrapper after the AD calls for everyone to return to set. He inhales deeply, mentally shifting into his character.

You sit in the chair he vacated, that is still warm from him sitting there. Watching as he takes his mark and his co-stars also get into position. It’s always interesting to watch Dieter work, the truth in the saying that all artists are slightly mad being very true. You think he is amazing.

Dieter grunts as soon as the director calls action, working on remembering his blocking and the choreography. People think that acting is easy, that it doesn't take a lot, but Dieter's life has been acting and it's exhausting physically and mentally. He gets lost in his character as he works his way through the scene.

You have memorized the lines and the action sequences. Seeing the hard work he has been putting in come to life as he goes through the scenes. Sometime they cut and reset, but you are so impressed and fucking turned on by his competence in this role, it makes you press your thighs together.

Dieter is sweating when he finishes his scene and he strides off set when the director calls cut, taking the bottle of water you have ready for him. He desperately wants a shower so he's relieved when the director calls it for the day and he hands you the water bottle. "Need a damn shower and some weed." He declares, walking off set and you follow him.

You know that he’s tired so you don’t try to talk to him. Just follow him back to the trailer and you pick up his costume as he strips it off, taking it back to wardrobe as he gets into the shower. His comfy sweats and crocs are set out and you have ordered dinner to be delivered to the house by the time you get there.

Dieter stands under the water, eyes closed as he tries to imagine his life when he’s older. He will be too old to be a movie star, too old to be considered another more than a washed up legend. His legacy will be his Oscar and nothing else. He hates the idea of not having anything else written in his eulogy. He hates the thought of being alone. He imagines if he gets the balls to say how he feels about you. Sure, he’s not conventional but he loves you. You don’t care about the fame or the money. You see him, you know him. He imagines being old, watching his kids grow up with you beside him. He wants that. He just needs to tell you for real and hope you don’t crush his crumbling heart in your hands.

Once you’ve returned the costume, you pick up the changes to the script and the blocking for tomorrow, going back to the trailer to pack up the bag you always carry for Dieter. He’s still in the shower, which is a little unusual but you just think that he’s sore. You’ll offer to give him a massage once he’s smoked a little and relaxed. It’s been a long day.

Dieter finally turns off the shower, stepping out and wrapping the towel around his waist. He washes the makeup from his face with the organic cleanser you get him and he comes out to find you waiting for him. “Shit.” He hisses, rubbing his eyes, “I just know I’m gonna lose you.” He admits, trying to ignore how fucking pretty you look waiting for him.

You frown, not sure what the hell he is talking about. “Are you okay?” You ask, stepping closer to him and wondering if he might have taken something without you knowing. He's been doing so good with not taking random pills, but this is Dieter. “You aren’t going to lose me unless you wander off.” You joke playfully, reaching out and touching his arm.

He flinches and shakes his head, “no. No. You’re gonna go and all because I can’t control- I can’t stop thinking - fuck!” He yells and you jump, making his frown deepen. “There’s - it’s just all in my head bouncing around all the damn time.” He admits, waving his hands around his wet curls, “you’re gonna leave because you don’t - it’s gonna ruin everything but I can’t stop myself.” He admits and you frown, shaking your head, “Dieter. What’s wro-?” You don’t get to finish before he blurts out, “I’m in love with you!”

Your mouth drops open slightly, shocked by his outburst. His eyes are filled with sorrow, grief. As if you’ve already rejected him. “Dee…” he shakes his head “I knew it.” He mumbles and you step closer. “Know what?” You ask, tilting your head. “That I’m in love with you too? That I’m scared that you’ll find someone else? That you’ll be bored?” You ask, voice shallow and fearful. “Because that’s all true.”

Dieter stares at you in shock, thinking for a second that he’s high or this is some dream. He swallows harshly and reaches for his towel, dragging it from his body. “Dieter.” You whisper in confusion and he reaches for your hand, bringing it to his chest. “I’m yours. All of me is yours and I stand in front of you now naked and totally exposed, physically and emotionally. I’ve been in love with you for - well, since you started working for me but I think I told myself that I couldn’t indulge in you, couldn’t ruin you, until that first night we slept together and I - no one else came close to you. I love you and I want you. You’re the only person I can ever see myself growing old with.” He admits, his heart pounding under your palm.

You bite your lip and your eyes fill with happy tears. “I always worried that you would move on. That I wasn’t enough.” You admit softly. “But I want you. Perfectly flawed you. I think you are amazing and I don’t want to be with anyone else but you, Dieter.”

Dieter offers you a soppy smile when he realizes you feel the same way. “You are - Jesus. Seriously?” He asks and you nod, offering him a soft smile as you reach up with your other hand to cup his cheek. “I love you.” He declares before he surges forward to press his lips to yours.

You can’t help but giggle against his lips, throwing your arms around him and dragging him closer. He loves you. He’s whiny, sometimes annoying and always needy, but he loves you. You pour yourself into the kiss, your heart pounding in your chest.

His fingers dig into your waist as he pulls you against him, his tongue sliding into your mouth as he lets it sink in that you love him. “Wanna- wanna grow old with you. Well, older.” He says when you pull back and he points at himself, his wrinkles that he’s insecure about.

Leaning in, you press your lips to the wrinkles and smile at him when you pull back. “Only if you’re willing to steal your costume after you finish shooting.” You joke, kissing him again.

Dieter chuckles, “now that I can agree to.” He promises, caressing your back. “Definitely going to steal that one to take home.” He promises, “for now though…let’s go home and have dinner before I spend all night making love to my girlfriend.” He nudges his nose against yours.

“I ordered dinner to be delivered,” you tell him as you pull back and smile at him. “We’ll smoke a little and then I’ll ride you before rubbing your back.” You tell him the plan as you turn around to reach for his clothes. “How does that sound, baby?”

“Fuck, you really are my soulmate.” He murmurs, looking at you in awe. “Let’s go home, sweetheart.” He orders, slapping your ass. “Uh, you might want to get dressed.” You say and he chuckles, nodding as he grabs the sweats you laid out for him. “Don’t want anyone else seeing the goods. Yours and only yours.” He winks at you as he pulls his pants up and grabs his shirt, pulling it over his head while he slides into his crocs. “Sports mode.” He jokes as he pulls the straps up over his ankle.

You roll your eyes, laughing at the complete dork that you love. He’s quirky in about a million ways and sometimes drives you crazy with his antics, but you don’t want him any other way. Especially if he’s going to roleplay a Roman general with you for the rest of your life. “Let’s go home, babe.” You tell him, grabbing the bag. “We’ll practice your sex scene until we get it right.”

“Fuck yes.” He cheers as you walk out of his trailer and he takes your hand, not caring about anything other than showing you how he feels about you. “Food, weed, then some crazy lovemaking.” He decides and squeezes your hand, “you know…I have a costume left over from Cliff Beasts we could try out.” He teases and you snort, “that’s just your robe. You used your own for the character.” Dieter smirks, “could be sexy if we roleplay it the right way.” He suggests, “these cliff beasts are so large-a.” He does his accent and you sigh, “I hate that that works on me.” Dieter grins, “gonna be a damn good life together, baby.” He declares and you giggle, “yeah it is, Bravo.”

[imaginemixedfandom]

OK HEAR ME OUT!!! 🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️

So Wicked and Gladiator 2 both come out on November 22. Imagine if we treated this like Barbenheimer.

✨ Picture with me…✨

Pedro Pascal x f!reader, Pedro is promoting Gladiator 2, and reader is in Wicked (Elphaba or Galinda of course!), and they are just really supportive of each other but also joke about their own movie being the best. Finding time to come to each other’s premiers. Posting behind the scenes or visiting each other for the instagram au.

Please I’m spitballing here, someone wrote this imagine 😭

[tightjeansjavi]

‘Cause After Midnight…

A/N: this idea came to be randomly yesterday morning and thus the brain rot began! Idk about y’all, but I would do ANYTHING for slumber party!Dieter 🤭 big thank you to @chronically-ghosted for sharing the brain rot cell with me this week! 🫡

~word count: 8.5k~ yeaaaah idk what happened!

Summary: a slumber party with your bestie Dieter Bravo, after midnight! What could possibly happen between the two of you?

Pairing | slumber party!dieter x best friend female!reader

Warnings: smut, fluff, a little sprinkle of angst, DUBIOUS CONSENT, mentions of alcohol and ouid smoking, infidelity (not by dieter) toxic relationship (Dieter’s ex) denial of feelings, secret pining, best friends to lovers?, pussy pronouns, domestic intimacy, mutual masturbation, masturbation with a shower head (iykyk), sexual tension, language, dirty talk, unprotected piv, aftercare, reader has no physical descriptions, readers nickname is bug, +18 minors dni!

Being Dieter Bravo’s best friend since…well, forever, came with a long list of perks. Your favorite perk of all, you may ask? Getting to spend time with your best friend. Whether that was at his home, lounging side by side next to his inground pool, stumbling out of a DTLA nightclub, clammy hands entwined together as you head to the nearest street food cart ASAP (Dieter demands steak tacos when he’s wasted) or when you were his glittering gem on the red carpet, dodging the incessant questions from the red carpet wasps—I mean, interviewers asking you and Dieter if you were dating.

It was like clockwork, you and Dieter would look at one another, laugh and shake your heads in sync, “us, dating? No, you have it all wrong! We’re simply just two besties that do everything together, don’t get it twisted!” (So what if you and Dieter would sometimes get equally wasted in the club and drunkenly makeout…and sometimes, while making out, he would grope your ass beneath your dress—you were just friends! Best friends kiss like all the time…right?)

Of course, Hollywood didn’t buy it despite yours and Dieter’s repetitive denial, and the fact that Dieter was currently smitten with his girlfriend—well, ex-girlfriend now. The tabloids spewed their cheap gossip, but your friendship with Dieter never soured.

You frequently slept over on the weekends he was home. It was your shared routine from Friday-Sunday (sometimes even Mondays), you and Dieter would get higher than two kites, cross off a few movies on your watch lists, paint together, and order takeout for every meal. Truthfully, it was fucking bliss.

This weekend, in particular, Dieter decided he wanted to have a whole ass slumber party. (Not nearly as extravagant as the princess diaries slumber party, or the Barbie movie) but Dieter knew how to throw a killer intimate slumber party. He invited all of his close, niche friends including you. He already had a whole array of different foods to munch on throughout the night so that no one would go hungry.

As always, Dieter was nearly glued to your side and if it were anyone else, or any other man for that matter, you would be annoyed, but when it came to Dieter, you shared your small bubble of space happily with him.

Everything was going swimmingly, until Dieter’s ex showed up uninvited. Dieter was in the whirlpool, wearing the tiniest swim trunks known to man. He had a beer in one hand while his other arm was resting along the outside of the hot tub. He was mid conversation, laughing about something one of his friends said before his eyes met yours when you appeared from the kitchen, a nervous look plastered on your face as you approached the hot tub.

“Hey, Dee?..” you crouched down along the edge of the hot tub.

“Yeah, bug?” He took a sip of his beer, brow cocking in curiosity. “What’s up? Why do ya look so worried?”

“Oh, it’s nothing, Dee. Just uh—well, your ex just sorta showed up uninvited. She’s in the kitchen—”

“What the fuck do you mean she just sorta showed up?! What the fuck.” He groaned, dragging his wet hand across his face, squeezing his eyes shut. “I reckon she just invited herself in, too?”

Your nod confirmed his suspicions. “Unfortunately she did. I told her she wasn’t welcome, but she essentially told me to fuck off.” You stifled a laugh.

“Yeah, well, she’s never exactly been the type to respect boundaries.” He sighed and handed you his beer so that he could pull himself out of the hot tub. The swim trunks he was wearing quite literally left little to the imagination, and you swore that you caught a glimpse of his infamous package when he bent down and grabbed his towel to quickly dry off.

His hand gently brushed yours as he reached for his beer. “I’ll deal with her. Not gonna let it spoil my night.” He gruffed out and draped the towel around his shoulders. “Be back in a jiffy, bug.” He winked and headed towards the sliding doors leading to the kitchen.

When he didn’t return to the backyard in over 20 minutes, that’s when you made the executive decision to see if he was okay. When you neared the front door, you could hear the distinct tone of Dieter’s voice through the thin glass and you caught a glimpse of him throwing his hands up in exasperation.

“You can’t just fucking show up here uninvited! You’re not only trespassing, but you’re crossing a boundary! This is exactly why we broke up in the first place because you’re just so fucking clingy!” He yelled.

“Oh, I’M THE CLINGY ONE?!” She laughed, jabbing her perfectly manicured finger directly into his bare chest. “So, it has nothing to do with the fact that you spent more time with your best friend than with your girlfriend?! Don’t you think thats a bit fucking weird, Dieter?!”

“Oh, for fucks sakes! Here we go again! Don’t you dare go bring her into this when she’s done nothing wrong! So sorry that you felt like the attention I was giving you was inadequate! Guess that gave you just the right amount of ammo to cheat on me with MY fucking pilates instructor?! Dude, I can’t even look the guy in the face anymore without wanting to rip his dick off, balls and all!”

“YES, because you left me with no other choice, Dieter! He gave me more attention than you ever have!”

“Right, sure! So instead of oh—I don’t know, acting like a fucking normal person, you let your jealousy take front and center and cheat on me?! Why the fuck couldn’t you just be like hey, Dieter! I’m feeling under-appreciated in our relationship and I’d like to talk about it in a healthy, productive way because I love and respect you as a person! I would have never fucking cheated on you, don’t you get that?!”

“Okay—you’re right! I’m sorry that I wasn’t mature, and I’m sorry I cheated on you, Dieter. I’m so sorry! Can we please just—”

He laughed, throwing his head back with his hands carding through his damp curls in disbelief. “You have got to be shitting me! You just expect me to what—take you back after all of that?! Fuck you. I may be a stupid fucking actor, but I’m not that stupid. Please, can you just—leave? I don’t want to call the cops, but I will if I have to.”

“Dieter, come on! Baby, please. Let’s just talk—”

“I’m not your baby.” He muttered and turned on his heel and walked back towards the front door. He really just wanted to bury his face in his hands and scream, but he was determined to not let her ruin his night. So, when he opened the door, and found you on the other side, he let out a visible sigh of relief. “Well, that was a crapshoot. Did ya hear any of it, bug?” He closed the door softly and made sure to lock it for good measure.

“You okay, Dee? I heard the last bit of it…I’m sorry that you had to deal with that.”

“S’okay. It’s done now and I’m gonna try and not let it ruin the rest of the night. Thank you for checking in on me, bug. I appreciate it.”

“Of course, Dee. Everyone is still in the backyard. Wanna join them? Otherwise I was thinking maybe you and I can get high?”

He grinned at your suggestion, crossing his arms as he leaned against the doorjamb, “say less.”

That’s how you found yourself in Dieter’s bedroom, sitting on the floor with his rolling tray in your lap while he was changing out of his too-tight swim trunks and into a pair of boxers that were…equally as tight. You loved the way that his little bit of tummy pudge hung over the side of the boxer's waistband. What you wouldn’t give to worship that tummy while he shoves his—You kept your eyes focused on plucking a few bud clusters and placing them in the grinder. His phone was charging next to yours on the nightstand. You had Spotify open on shuffle playing yours and Dieter’s favorite playlist. The song that was currently playing was After Midnight by Chappell Roan.

He plopped down beside you, gently grabbing the tray and placed it in his lap so that he could roll the actual joint. He used the front of his bed as a backrest as he opened up the grinder and carefully distributed the ground up herb into one of the papers.

“I seriously don’t know how your dick can breathe in those tight fucking shorts, Dee.” you said with a playful edge to your tone as you let your head rest in the crook of his neck. He leaned into you too, naturally.

“They are not that tight!” He scoffed and looked over at you with a playful grin on his lips. “My dick can breathe in these perfectly fine, bug.” he retorted.

“Yeah, okay, whatever you say.”

Comfortable silence washed over the two of you while he finished rolling up the joint, looking over at you expectantly as he sparked the end of it, inhaling with his cheeks slightly hollowed, “should we have a full slumber party moment and paint our nails and do each other's makeup?” He asked softly, blowing the smoke upwards towards the ceiling and held the joint out to you between his pointer and middle finger.

“Shut up. I can’t believe you just brought that up because I was thinking the same exact thing!” You looked over at him In disbelief, reaching for the joint as your fingers briefly brushed against one another during the exchange. “I must have manifested this or something because I made sure to bring my nail polish this time!”

“Just start calling me Dieter the all knowing!” He chuckled, feeling the inhaled drug slowly send him into a relaxed state. He let his head comfortably rest against the back of the bed. “and I have my makeup that we can use! Think you can show me how to perfect the winged liner look? I’m shit at doing it on myself.” He huffed.

“I am not gonna start calling you Dieter that all knowing! There’s no way in hell I’m going to grant you all that power!” You nudged his shoulder gently with your own before you took a long drag from the joint, holding the smoke in your lungs before slowly exhaling it. “Of course I can help you with your eyeliner, Dee! Only if you let me pick out your nail color this time.”

“Okay, deal!” He was quick to respond with zero hesitation in his chipper tone.

So, after you each took a few more drags from the joint and your minds began to go hazy, Dieter lazily got up and walked into the en-suite to grab his bag of makeup from the bathroom cabinet. When he returned, you had grabbed your overnight bag and already had all of your nail products laid out.

“Damn, did ya bring your entire collection from home with ya?” He teased as he plopped down next to you. His movements were uncoordinated due to the drug coursing through his veins. He nearly fell into your lap, giggling and quietly apologizing as he sat back up. This was a normal occurrence for you and Dieter. Whenever the two of you would get high together, (which was frequent), you both became naturally affectionate and extremely touchy with one another. It was second nature, and something that neither you or Dieter ever thought about as being ‘weird’ and not the norm for most platonic friendships.

“Go big or go home, right Dee?” You had already picked out a pretty sparkly blue polish for his nails and set it off to the side.

“Absolutely, bug. Hey, can you do my makeup first, please?” He had his hands clasped in his lap, nervously twiddling his thumbs as if he was a child waiting to be reprimanded by his parents.

“Of course I can.” You said softly, and grabbed the makeup bag from his lap. “Hey, are you okay?…”

He sighed, squeezing his eyes shut momentarily and shook his head. “No, not really. I’m fucking pissed off about what happened down there with my ex.”

You nodded in understanding and stood up to grab one of his many pillows so that he would have something comfortable to lay against while you would do his makeup. “I gathered that.”

“That’s because you’re always reading the room, bug.” He chuckled, grabbing the pillow from you so that he could place it under his back. Once he was situated, he patted his thighs, beckoning you to come sit in his lap. (Doesn’t everyone straddle their best friend and do their makeup?)

“Am I?” You mused and wasted no time to straddle his hips, making yourself comfortable above him. He was looking up at you with that sparkle in his irises that only appeared around you. It was as if you were the reason why the sun shined, and the stars twinkled in the sky. You were too busy going through his bag of makeup to catch the look, and when your eyes did land upon his face, he looked like he was going through constricting emotions.

“Yeah, you’re really good at doing that, y’know?” He sighed, feeling his shoulders deflate and sink against the pillow.

“Do you want to talk about what happened, Dee?”

“Yeah.” He nodded, letting his hands gently rest around your hips, thumbs stroking the sliver of skin visible under your shorts in a soothing figure eight motion. “I mean, who the fuck just shows up to someone’s slumber party uninvited?”

“Well, she’s never really respected your boundaries, has she? Remember when you forgot to leave your phone in your dressing room at the Oscars, and when you were reading out the nominees and she called you, despite knowing that you were at the Oscars?” You grabbed his little bottle of toner and a couple cotton rounds, softly telling him to close his eyes.

He closed his eyes, flinching slightly when the cool mist of the toner kissed his skin. He relaxed further into the pillows when you gently patted the toner into his skin with the cotton round. “Yeah, that was a fucking disaster! I just remember going all red in the face and fearing that my career with the rest of the Hollywood assholes was over at that point.”

“I’m pretty sure she made that move out of spite, Dee. Y’know, because you didn’t ask her to be your plus one?”

He peeked one eye open to look up at you, “that’s because you’ve attended every single red carpet event with me, bug. It’s…tradition.” (Yeah, sure it is, Dieter. Just tradition.)

“I’m not justifying her behavior by any means, but I can understand why she was upset that you invited your best friend over your girlfriend to the Oscars.” You set the bottle of toner down and grabbed his usual moisturizer and squirted a few pumps onto your fingers and rubbed it into his skin.

“Yeah, I guess when you put it that way it does sound pretty fucked up huh? But I don’t think I deserved to be cheated on.” His lips curved into a downwards pout, brows furrowed intently.

“Oh, of course not, hun. Cheating is never justifiable.” You reassured him, reaching into the makeup bag and pulled out his primer, foundation and concealer. “Do you wanna do a full look or something on the more no makeup/makeup side?”

“So then why did she try to justify her reason for cheating on me? Not only that, she tried to sweet talk her way back in towards the end of the conversation. Oh, Dieter, I’m so sorry!” He scoffed, “she even pulled the baby card on me! I know I’m not the most emotionally intelligent individual 99% of the time, and I’ve struggled my whole life taking much of anything serious, but I still have a fucking heart despite what the tabloids gossip about.” He paused mid-venting, remembering what you had asked him, “surprise me, bug.”

“She pulled the baby card on you? What a fucking cunt move, honestly.” you shook your head. “Dieter, you have one of the biggest hearts in all of Hollywood, hun. You just don’t share it with everyone and that’s okay. Those tabloids are a load of crap. I told you before that you have to stop feeding into their agenda. It’s not worth it, Dieter.”

“Exactly! It was a cunt move. And if I didn’t realize my worth sooner, I probably would have fallen right back into a relationship with her again! You know what I’m starting to believe? Maybe…I just have to accept the fact that no one is ever gonna love me.”

You let out a sigh, reaching back into the makeup bag and pulled out one of his glitter shadows to apply on his eyelids. He let out a content hum when your fingers began to gently card through his damp curls while your other fingers began to gently pat the shimmery shadow onto his closed eyelids. “Dieter, don’t you fucking start that shit and claiming that no one is ever going to love you.”

“Well, it’s true! I can’t fucking hold a healthy relationship down to save my life! I’m the laughing stock of Hollywood, days away from fucking relapsing, and no one is gonna give a shit!”

“Dude, what are you talking about?” You fought the urge to laugh, not at him, of course, but at the situation at hand. “I love you, idiot. You are not the laughing stock of Hollywood, and you will not fucking relapse under my watch, Dieter.”

“Bug, I know you love me, and I love you too! But…that’s different. What I’m talking about is real, true love—ow!” He whimpered when you had accidentally poked his eye with your nail.

You weren’t even paying attention when he started rambling about true love and that the way he loved you was completely different…it stung and sent your heart straight through a shredder, and he had no idea!

“Shit, Dee! I’m so sorry—are you okay? My finger slipped.” Your palm came to rest around his scruffy jawline, leaning in close to make sure that you hadn’t accidentally poked his eye out with your fingernail. Your warm breath gently fanned his face as he blinked a few times to surpass the dull sting he felt on his cornea.

“I’m okay, bug. But damn, girl! Are you trying to poke my eye out or something?” He joked, trying to relieve the palpable tension growing between the two of you.

You were quick to change the subject, feeling slightly embarrassed that you allowed his words to affect you that much. You reached for the joint that was resting along the rolling tray and picked it up between your two fingers along with the lighter. “I’m going to take a couple more hits…you want any?” You asked while sparking the joint up, taking a deeper inhale this time to try and soothe your already scrambled brain.

He nodded, reaching his hand up to pluck the joint from between your lips after you were finished and placed it between his own and took a similarly deep drag. He looked so fucking pretty, laying there, joint hanging low between his lips, shimmering eyeshadow making his rich brown eyes stand out even more.

“Y’know…” he started, “if ya take a picture, it’ll last longer!” He mused, taking another long drag, blowing the smoke off to the side. When you didn’t immediately laugh at his weak attempt to ease the tension further, he frowned. “Hey, you okay? You’re never this quiet, bug. Even when you’re high.”

“I’m fine, Dieter.” You sighed, and went to slide off his lap, forgetting about doing his eyeliner when his hand resting around your hip tightened and you freezed under his touch.

“Hey, please don’t lie to me. Did I say something to upset you? I’m sorry if I did.” He was always so genuine in his apologies to you. He could claim to not know how to read the room, but that couldn’t be further from the truth.

“Dee, I’m fine.” You reassured him. “I was just having a moment.”

“Well…stop that! It’s not allowed when we’re having a sleepover.” He really just couldn’t stand to see you upset. It tore him up inside and made him feel like he was always the root cause for your mood change.

“Fuck you.” You laughed, giving his cheek a light pat while your other hand ruffled through his hair. “Do you still want me to do your eyeliner?”

“Yes please.” He grinned. “Just promise to not poke my eye out again?”

“I promise, Dee.”

While you carefully began to apply the eyeliner to his eyelids with careful precision, he continued to ramble on underneath you, careful to not move too much because he really didn’t want to accidentally get poked in the eye. Once you were finished, you expected him to immediately want to check how he looked in the mirror, but instead, he switched positions with you, straddling your hips now so that he could do your makeup.

You didn’t protest, of course. You’d take any excuse to admire his handsome features up close while he was zoned in on his work, his muse being you. Whenever he was painting, his focus was intense and it was as if he had tuned out everything else around him. He acted all the same while he was gently applying a shimmer shadow to your eyelids.

The intimacy simmering between the two of you was becoming too much for you to handle. You could feel him through his too-tight boxers, the weight of his cock pressing right against your clothed center. Despite knowing Dieter for as long as you have, you never had seen his cock, only just the outline of it. However, you heard the stories from his past partners, flings, and even some colleagues. They were all shocked to hear that you yourself had not seen Dieter Bravo’s package.

The walls in his spacious bedroom felt like they were closing in on you from how flustered you were feeling. Surely there was sweat beginning to bead and perspire along the column of your throat and behind your neck. Perhaps there was even an evident sign of your arousal between your thighs. You hoped to god that he hadn’t caught on. But when his hips shifted forward, his tongue poking out between his lips while he carefully applied a swipe of eyeliner across your right eyelid, it was too much.

“Hey—Dee? I’m not feeling too hot. Think the weed is messing with me. I—I think I’m gonna shower and go to bed.” You stuttered out, trying to focus on the words coming out of your mouth and not the images of his thick cock—

He frowned, looking deflated when you said that you wanted to go to bed. “Oh—okay, bug. I understand. Do you wanna watch a movie or something? I’ll get you some food and water, okay? Maybe you’re just having a bad trip?” He was genuinely concerned, feeling slightly nervous that his trusted dealer had laced his stash with something, but he didn’t want to go down that rabbit hole just yet.

“No—I just…I want to shower and go to bed, Dieter. I’ll be fine. It probably is just a bad trip.” You reassured him and subtly tried to create any form of distance between the two of you to relieve the tension you were feeling.

The weed is only enhancing what I’m feeling right now. If he could see the thoughts going through my head right now—

“If you are having a bad trip, then I should stay with you, bug. I don’t want anything to happen to you—”

“Dieter.” You were on the edge of snapping and saying something you would inevitably regret, “I don’t want you to stay with me, okay? I just want to fucking shower and go to bed.”

Ouch.

He visibly recoiled, feeling like you had just stabbed him right in the gut and twisted the knife for good measure. Maybe I am the clingy one…

“Okay, okay. I understand. I’ll leave you alone if that’s what you want.” He wanted to snap right back at you, but he didn’t have the heart in him to do so.

“Thank you.” You breathed out, and when he didn’t immediately uncage your thighs from under his hips, you took matters into your own hands and placed your palm flat against his chest, gently pushing him off of you so you could quickly stand up.

He felt his heart twist even further when you disappeared into the en-suite, slamming the door behind you. He wasn’t sure if it was done maliciously or on accident, it still fucking hurt.

Seconds later he hears the sink turn on and the sound of water splashing against your face. It felt wrong to leave you in this state, so even after he heard the shower turn on while he was cleaning up the strewn about makeup on the floor, he sat down against the door, his back leaning against it as he waited. For what? He really didn’t know the answer to that.

You knew that Dieter was concerned about your well being, and if he could have it his own way, he would be in the bathroom with you right now, sitting with his back facing you so that you would feel comfortable to shower. You also were aware that he was sitting against the bathroom door and your heart lurched at the thought. You felt the guilt swim and swirl around you. Snapping at your best friend was not on your bingo card for the night, but maybe this was a sign that you and Dieter needed to set some serious boundaries between one another. Maybe you were beginning to realize that the two of you were…too close.

“Can you just…let me know you’re okay in there?” You heard him ask through the door as the scalding hot water streamed down over your bare body.

“Dieter, I’m fine.” Your voice was muffled under the stream.

“Yeah, sure you are, but I’d be a terrible fucking friend if I just left you to deal with this bad trip on your own, bug.”

God dammit, Dieter. Why can’t you just be an asshole like a normal person?! Is what you really wanted to say.

“Okay…” you trailed off, “I’m going to be in here for a while.”

“That’s okay. You can use up all of my hot water. I don’t care.” He reassured you.

When you didn’t immediately respond he let out a sigh, resting his head back against the door, closing his eyes. He remembered that your phone was still playing music from where it sat on his nightstand next to his own, and the familiar tune of Pink Pony Club started playing. It was yours and Dieter’s favorite song off of Chappell’s album.

“I know you wanted me to stay, but I can't ignore the crazy visions of me in LA. And I heard that there's a special place, where boys and girls can all be queens every single day.”

Dieter Bravo could not fucking sing, but everytime that he did for you, it was the most endearing gesture ever.

“You fucking asshole.” You muttered under your breath, “I'm having wicked dreams of leaving Tennessee. Oh, Santa Monica, I swear it's calling me. Won't make my mama proud, It's gonna cause a scene. She sees her baby girl, I know she's gonna scream…”

“God, what have you done! You're a pink pony girl, and you dance at the club! Oh mama, I'm just having fun! On the stage in my heels, it’s where I belong down at the Pink Pony Club!” You and Dieter sung the chorus in unison, completely out of tune, but neither of you could give a fuck about that.

You could practically picture his dopey, weed-stained grin plastered on his handsome, scruffy face behind the door when you sang the chorus together. The mental image sent your heart surging out of your chest, and your pussy pulsing in tandem.

Fuck me.

You truly had just planned to take a hot, relaxing, mind clearing shower and then go straight to bed, but you were feeling bothered by the weed, and your blatantly obvious attraction towards your best friend. Not to mention, the little rasp in Dieter’s voice was not helping you out in this predicament, either. That’s when you noticed his attached shower head and the lightbulb went off in your weed-induced brain.

You reached for the attached shower head, gently removing it from where it was mounted against the shower wall. Before turning it on, however, you quickly got familiar with the numerous spray settings and chose the medium spray before slowly dragging the shower head between your legs and—oh, fucck.

The pressure was just right and was directly spraying a stream of water onto your exposed clit. You held back a moan, bringing the back of your hand to your mouth and bit down as you slowly sank to your ass along the shower wall, your thighs spread fully, eyes rolling back into your skull from the intense feeling. That’s when a moan slipped past and Dieter initially thought he was just hearing things, but then he heard it again…and his cock twitched to life beneath the tight confinements.

“There’s no way. I’m just high as shit right now and hearing things. Yeah, that’s the logical explanation!” He muttered to himself, scrubbing one hand down his face. But then he heard you distinctively moan, and his face suddenly felt hot to the touch. He pressed his ear against the door, raising his fist and gently knocked on the wood, “you uh—you okay in there?”

You were so close to hitting that big ‘o’ that you didn’t even hear Dieter’s low rasp through the door.

“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.” You whimpered. “So fucking close, just a little more. Just a little more. C’mon, baby.”

Now that he could hear you more clearly, he knew exactly what was producing those little desperate sounds to slip past your pretty lips: his fucking shower head.

“Excuse me?? Are you getting yourself off with MY shower head, without me in there?!” It was a thought that he had meant to keep in his head, but now that it was out there, there was truly no going back.

You froze like a deer caught in headlights, immediately dropping the shower head from your loose grasp and it clattered to the shower floor just as the bathroom door burst open.

“Dieter—WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?!” You screeched, hair drenched, thighs spread and trembling.

He shut the door behind him, muttering under his breath as he approached, looking you right in the eyes, “more importantly, what are you doing?” He placed his hands on his hips. “Your little moans and whimpers made me rock fucking hard!” He gestured to the obvious tent in his boxers, his cock straining against the tight material. “Had I known it was gonna be that kind of sleepover, I would have joined you a heck of a lot sooner!”

Oh. My. God. This isn’t happening, is it?!

“Dieter, you can’t just fucking come in here when I’m masturbating! Dude—what the fuck!”

“Oh, heavens! Are we going back to the 1800’s or something? Just call it for what it is! You playing with your pussy, and using my shower head to get yourself off! By all means, please continue, but next time? I want a personal invite!”

You were appalled…and a little turned on? Okay, a lot turned on! In fact, your pussy was pulsing between your thighs, the edge of your interrupted orgasm was still simmering, waiting to fully bloom. To make matters worse, Dieter had crouched down outside of the shower, his brows furrowed when he noticed the setting you had set the shower head to. He tsked under his breath, shaking his head as he reached into the shower and picked up the shower head from where it had been dropped between your spread thighs.

“Dieter, what are you—”

“Hush and listen to the teacher, okay? For starters, you’re using it all wrong. You gotta build yourself up first, and then go full blast. Otherwise you’re just gonna overstimulate your poor little clit, and that just takes away from the experience.” He said in the most casual fashion, as if this wasn’t crossing a million different invisible boundaries all at once.

“Dieter, I don’t need your assistance on getting myself off, okay? Please just—”

“Bug, don’t make this weird, okay? We’re friends, and there’s nothing in the friends handbook that says that we can’t help one another get off! It’s totally not forbidden.” He retorted.

“I think you just made the whole friends handbook thing up. It totally doesn’t exist and we absolutely should not be doing this, Dieter! It’s wrong for a multitude of reasons!”

“The friends handbook totally exists! I’ll get you a copy, okay? I’m not going to touch you, unless you want me to. I’m just gonna use the shower head to show you the right way to get yourself off with it, and afterwards you will be thanking me!”

“I can’t believe I’m about to agree to this. I cannot fucking—”

“Best start believing it, baby! Now, spread your thighs for me a little more, okay?”

“Okay, I’m giving you my full consent, but if I start feeling weird, we’re stopping this whole thing, okay?” You looked him directly in the eyes as you spread your thighs further so he had a better view.

“Bug, if at any point you feel weird, uncomfortable, or want to stop, just tell me, okay? I’m not gonna pressure you to continue doing this if you don’t want to. I’m leaving the ball completely in your court, and my feelings won’t be hurt if you change your mind, okay? I promise.” His words were sincere, and it was hard to look away when he was staring at you with those big, brown, puppy dog eyes.

“Okay.” You nodded.

He leaned forward then, briefly getting caught under the stream when his lips brushed across your forehead, leaving you both feeling slightly stunned. He softly asked you if it was okay if he did touch you, to which you obliged, lower lip taken between your teeth when his hand that wasn’t holding the shower head slowly dipped between your thighs and his fingers spread your slick folds apart so he would have better access to your clit.

“I always knew that your pussy would be pretty, baby, but goddamn—she really is so fucking pretty.” He took a sharp inhale of breath, his cock twitching painfully in his boxers.

“Dieter Bravo, you’re going to be the death of me.” You breathed out, heat rising to your cheeks from the way he was gazing at the spot between your thighs, eyes glazed over the same way a dog looks at a delicious bone, or a plate of juicy, rare, steak.

“You’re already the death of me, bug.” He whispered, unable to help himself when his thumb gently brushed across your clit. He swallowed hard, trying to focus on the task at hand but between you prettily spread out beneath him, and the weed still flowing through his system, he was fucked.

He changed the setting on the shower head without even having to look down at it. He was too focused on your face, particularly your eyes and how you both seemed to be drinking one another in, an invisible string tied between the two of you, reeling him in closer, and closer. You observe his face, and the way his eyeliner has now started to run and bleed under his eyes and down his cheeks from the water and steam. Your pussy clenches from the sight just as his thumb lightly presses against your clit, making slow, languid, figure eight motions.

He thinks he wants to kiss you—no, scratch that. He wants to kiss you, and you can tell by the way his eyes flicker from your face and down to your lips, and then back up again.

“Dieter…” you whisper, bringing your hand up to gently cradle his face in your palm, curling your pointer finger under his chin. “Do you want to kiss me?” Your warm breath fans his face as he slowly nods.

“Yeah, I do.” He rasped, slowly leaning in.

“So kiss me, you fool.”

And so he did, but instead of hesitating, and holding back, he dove right in, noses pressing into one another as he licked greedily into your mouth, tangling his tongue with yours while his hand holding the shower head angled it right against your exposed pussy and between his fingers where he was keeping you spread open.

“Oh fuck!” You whimpered into the kiss, keeping your one hand anchored around his jaw while the other came to rest at the back of his head, your fingers tangled through his drenched locks, tugging on them gently.

“Yeah, feels good, doesn’t it, baby? Told ya so.” He snickered into your lips, kissing you deeper. “Lower water pressure builds you up slower, drawing your orgasm out to last longer, and it’ll feel 10x more intense.”

“Mhm.” You mumbled into his lips, scooting your hips closer to the stream of water, and to him.

“Greedy little pussy, huh? Can’t get enough, can ya?” He teased.

“Dieter…” you warned him, playfully biting down on his lower lip and tugging it out gently before releasing it.

“I know, I know.” He chuckled and reluctantly detached himself from the kiss, pecking your lips once before he sat back on his thighs to give himself any form of relief. “You wanna give yourself a whirl while I go take care of this er—in privacy?”

Your cheeks were puffed out, lips swollen with his kisses as you stared up at him dumbfounded. “Are you insane? Just get in here with me, Dieter. Right now.”

He blushed, turning bright red all the way to the tips of his ears. He rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly turning all bashful as if he wasn’t just talking about your greedy little pussy seconds ago. “Are you…sure? I really don’t mind! I can just go jerk off in my bed like a normal person—”

“Dieter.” Your tone sounded strained, “get in the fucking shower now. Take those ridiculously tight boxers off and get in here.”

Well, you certainly didn’t need to ask Dieter Bravo twice as he scrambled to peel his boxers down over his hips and thighs, tossing the damp fabric outside of the shower. His cock bobbed between his thighs, hard, heavy and the tip was swollen a painful red color. Poor guy.

He climbed over you, situating himself and his cute little tush right next to you with his shoulders gently brushing yours. He spit a glob of saliva into his palm and wrapped his fist around the veiny girth of his cock. “I’ll come fast, I promise. You won’t even have to do anything, okay? Just pretend I’m not here!” His tone was rushed as he squeezed the base of his cock, lolling his head to the side so he could look over at you. His eyeliner was completely smudged now and his lips were swollen with your kisses.

All you could do was nod dumbly, your eyes transfixed by his fist wrapped around his cock. It was as if you were seeing a unicorn for the first time! The unicorn being er—Dieter’s cock.

He looked at your face, and then down at his cock, and then back up at your face. “Hello?” He waved with his freehand, “why are you looking at my cock like that, huh? Are you the only person in the whole state of California who hasn’t seen my cock before?” He was in disbelief, his mouth falling open when he realized that you never had seen his cock.

"I totally thought you'd seen his dick. Practically everyone else has." You remember his ex cruelly teasing you about it one day.

You shook your head, eyes glazed over as you watched his fist slowly twist and pump around his length. “Nope. First time, and it’s like I’m looking at a unicorn!” You exclaimed playfully.

Dieter snorted at your enthusiasm, feeling his heart lurch from his chest, “well, it is sorta like seeing a unicorn for the first time…I suppose?” He chuckled, squeezing the base of his cock for some form of relief. He felt like now was the best time to address the obvious elephant in the room, silly Dieter. “So uh—well, this doesn’t mean anything, right? Because we’re just friends and good friends masturbate together. It's cool, this is super casual!”

Sure, bud. You keep telling yourself that.

You fought the urge to roll your eyes and clicked your tongue against the roof of your mouth, spreading your thighs further so you could continue your ministrations with the shower head. “Sure, Dieter. This means absolutely nothing. Just two besties jerking it off, side by side. Totally casual!”

He let out a huff as he pumped his fist faster, “Well, we wouldn’t be in this predicament if those noises you were making didn’t make my cock as hard as a slab of concrete!”

“Dieter, shut up, and get yourself off! Or so help me—”

“Yes ma'am!” He squeaked out.

In tandem you placed the shower head close to your clit once more while he fisted his cock, and when your moans started to intermingle and become one, that’s when your glazed over eyes met once more. He had his lip harshly taken between his teeth, his cock was twisting and pulsing beneath his fist. He leaned in close, lips just barely brushing your bare shoulder where he had dipped his head down to nuzzle you. His eyes flickered upwards towards your face, pupils darkening by the second, “I really want to fuck you right now, baby.” He rasped.

You met his gaze, thighs trembling and your eyes rolling slightly as your orgasm rippled through you, “yeah, you wanna fuck me, Dieter? How badly do you want to fuck me?”

“So fucking bad, baby. You’ve got no idea.” He mewled, “there’s that convenient bench right over there.” He gestured to the shower bench with a coy tilt of his chin, “you can sit right on my cock, if you’d like that…”

“Did you have that bench installed for convenience purposes or for your old man bad back?” You asked teasingly.

He narrowed his eyes at you, glaring playfully before he chuckled, “a bit of both. More-so on the convenience side of things. And, it’s newly installed so you and I would be the first to use it.” He winked coyly.

“Really? Well, your offer is most tempting, Bravo. I’d like to take you up on it and sit on your big fucking cock.”

“Now we’re talking.” He grinned, loosening his fist around his cock so he could offer you a hand and helped you up. Now you were both directly under the stream of water, hands roaming everywhere they could reach. You kissed deeply, giggling in unison when you grabbed his ass and he grabbed yours. He could happily live in this moment forever with you, even if it meant that his skin would inevitably prune and probably fall off.

You backed him up against the shower bench, climbing into his lap as he slowly lowered himself into a sitting position along the marble bench that could easily fit both of you.

You wrapped your own palm around the base of his cock for the first time as you slowly sank down around his girth till he was fully pressed inside of you, bottoming out with a low grunt against your lips. He let his arms loop firmly around your waist, pulling you in as close as he physically could so that your chests were pressed flushed together. He swore he saw heaven behind fluttered lashes when you started to slowly roll your hips into his, bouncing and grinding along his length.

If it wasn’t for his steadfast orgasm, he probably would have lasted longer before he was shooting thick ropes of his cum deep inside of you, but he was a man, after all. And while his cum leaked and dripped from your weeping little hole that was still stuffed full of his cock, he made sure that you got to come again, too. He pistoned his hips upwards at an unruly pace, loving the way that your nails clawed at his back and shoulders, leaving little red crescents in their wake. Maybe I’ll get those tattooed on me later. He briefly thought as you came undone around him, crying out his name.

You stayed seated on his cock for what felt like hours before he gently eased you off him, his cock now soft between his thighs and glistening in a thick, pearlescent ring of your combined releases.

You washed one another’s bodies under the lukewarm stream and he was the first to step out of the shower, grabbing a towel to wrap around his waist and when you emerged, he had a towel waiting for you. You kissed a few more times, gentle pecks of intimacy as you stood side by side in front of the mirror, brushing your teeth and doing your skincare.

“Soo, where are you sleeping tonight?” He suddenly asked with a mouthful of toothpaste. His deep pools of brown boring into yours.

You hadn’t really thought that far if you were being honest…and now with that fresh ‘I just got fucked good’ glow illuminating your features, and the remainder of your high still sizzling, you suddenly feeling nervous all over again.

“Um, well, where do you want me to sleep?”

“I asked you first.” He crossed his arms over his chest, waiting for your response.

“Okay, fair, how about on the count of three we say it together?”

“Deal.” He nods.

“Okay—one, two, three—” you counted off in unison.

“Your bed—my bed.”

You both looked relieved at your answers, letting out breaths you didn’t realize you were holding. “Thank fucking god.” You both laughed.

He kissed you then, mouthful of toothpaste and all. You made a funny squeaking sound when he had unexpectedly kissed you, and the corners of his mouth curved up into a knowing grin. “I’ll get you one of my shirts to wear.” He mumbled into the kiss, pulling back slowly.

When you left the en-suite, you found Dieter already in bed, sitting up with the rolling tray resting in his lap. He had a fresh pair of boxers on, this pair was made of cotton and was far less constricting. He was rolling another joint to smoke before bed when he looked up, smiling softly at your lingering presence in the doorway, wearing nothing but his shirt.

“Well, don’t be shy, bug. Ain’t the first time you’ve slept in my bed.” He winked, patting the empty spot beside him on his massive king sized bed.

You took a deep breath, remembering that this was Dieter Bravo, your best friend and partner in crime. He would always be your best friend.

You made your way over to the empty side of the bed and pulled the covers back so you could climb underneath them.

He finished rolling the joint, grabbing his lighter from the nightstand to spark it up before he paused, looking over his shoulder at you. “Hey, we don’t have to like—do anything, okay?” He reassured you.

“But Dieter, I wanna do stuff with you. It’s just—in your bed it feels…” you trailed off, scratching at the outside of your arm absentmindedly.

He tucked the joint behind his ear and rolled over into his side so he was facing you, using his elbow to prop himself up, “I understand, baby. This is…new for me as well. We can smoke this joint and then make out a little? See where it goes?…”

You nodded, lips curving up into a soft smile that sent his heartbeat racing, “yeah, I’d like that.”

“Me too.” He grinned.

He sparked the joint up between you, taking a few hits before he passed it off to you. This went on a few more times before your bodies just naturally gravitated towards one another, and when the joint died out, he set it down on the tray on his nightstand before his lips found yours.

You kissed like this for hours, simply just enjoying one another’s company and soft touch when the sun began to rise over the Los Angeles landscape. Dieter was uncharacteristically quiet, even for being stoned.

Your fingers were gently dragging through the patches in his beard, playing with his scruff in between kisses. “I can hear you overthinking, Dee.”

“Are you a wizard?” He chuckled, “you can hear my thoughts? That’s crazy!”

“Shh.” You giggled. “I’m right here, baby. You don’t have to yell.”

“Sorry.” He whispered, scooting his body closer to yours. He would absolutely crawl inside of your skin and never leave, but well—-he might go to prison if he did that.

“I’m gonna say something that might sound stupid, but I gotta get it off my chest, okay?” He started, his glazed over eyes met yours as he pressed a few kisses to the underside of your fingertips.

“I’m listening.”

“Okay, so—well, this is just different for me because I don’t normally fuck my friends.”

You gave him a funny look at his admittance, unable to help yourself.

“I’m serious! I don’t fuck my friends—and well, I care about you a ton.Maybe even more than I care about myself? Anyway, I don’t want things to get weird between us tomorrow. Like if you wake up and regret everything that happened, I just want you to tell me, okay? My hopes is that maybe you felt the little spark that I did and if you did we can—”

“Dieter, I promise you I’m not going to wake up tomorrow and regret everything that happened tonight. No matter where this takes us, I’m always going to love you, and you’re always going to be my best friend.” Your words were sincere and directly from your heart and he knew you weren’t just saying shit just to say it.

“I think I just shat my heart out, that was so sweet.” He giggles, nuzzling his nose against yours. “In all seriousness, thank you. I was just afraid that this would ruin our friendship, and I would lose you forever.”

“Never, Dieter. You could never lose me.” You reassured him.

“Good, cause in the morning? I’m making waffles!”

Helen Mirren: Narrator for the Barbie Movie:

Dieter did not in fact make waffles the next morning. Instead, Dieter had his breakfast between your thighs, and then let you order whatever brunch you wanted on his black card

"You can be my sugar baby! I get to eat you out and you can order whatever you want on my card." He murmured between your thighs, mouthful of your pussy.

"That's not how that sort of thing really works, Dieter. But yeah, okay."

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[drewharrisonwriter]

A Better Man

Status: One Shot, Complete

Summary: Dieter goes back to a place he knows so well just to get a glimpse of a life he could have had.

Word Count: 2k words

Notes: IDK, I'm way into Dieter again these days, and thought of writing this fic that's full of yearning lol

P.S. My laptop, which served me well for 5 years, just gave out. With grad school, the recent loss of my stepdad, and ongoing medical bills, finances are tight. I’m currently managing writing commissions and my dissertation from my phone, which is okay but really challenging. If you can help with a donation or by commissioning some of my writing, it would mean the world to me. Just send me a message 💜 Thank you from the bottom of my heart for any support you can offer. 💜🙏🏻

I pull up to the house slowly, like I’m sneaking up on it. The engine hums under my grip, vibrating through the steering wheel, and I kill it with a sharp twist of the key. The quiet settles in around me, and I just sit there, staring at the place I used to know so well.

It’s funny. I don’t even know why I’m here. I’m not the sentimental type—at least, that’s what I’ve been telling myself for years—but somehow, I always end up right back here. Your house. The one you made a home, way back when everything felt so damn simple.

It’s been a while. The shutters are a different color now, a soft blue. You used to complain about how you never had time to take care of the garden, but it looks… alive now. Somebody’s been looking after it, after you. It’s like the house moved on, but me? I’m still stuck.

I lean back in the seat, staring through the windshield. I remember this place, and I remember you—us. Those days when I’d crash on your couch, no questions asked. The nights we’d laugh too loud, talk too much, and I’d forget, just for a second, about the chaos waiting outside your door. This used to be the one place that felt like it could be something real.

I close my eyes, and suddenly I’m back there, in those moments that play like an old movie I can’t turn off.

–

“You know, I could get used to this,” I said, my shoulder brushing against yours as we sat on the steps of your porch. The air was thick with the scent of your jasmine plant—always too sweet, but you loved it, so I never complained. I looked over at you, trying to hide my nerves behind a grin. “Just you, me, and this crappy little neighborhood.”

You laughed, and God, that laugh—it’s like a shot of adrenaline, better than any drug I’ve ever touched. “You say that now, but you’ll get bored. You always do.”

I wanted to argue, but I just shrugged, picking at the loose thread on my jeans. “Not with you,” I said softly. “You’re the only thing I never get tired of.”

You gave me this look—like you knew something I didn’t. “We’re not like that, Dieter. We’re... something else.”

I tried to smile, but it felt wrong. “Yeah, sure. Something else.” But I wasn’t so sure anymore. Not when everything was changing so fast. I could feel it slipping away, and I didn’t know how to hold on.

–

I showed up at your door, way past midnight. I was drunk, pissed off, and lost, but you still opened up, just like you always did. No questions, no judgment—just you in your pajamas, hair a mess, eyes sleepy but warm.

“Dieter, it’s late,” you mumbled, rubbing your eyes. “What’s going on?”

“I just... I needed to be here,” I said, brushing past you into the living room like I belonged there. And for a while, I think I did. I slumped onto the couch, burying my face in my hands. “Everything’s fucked. I fucked up.”

You sat down next to me, close but not too close. You always knew how to give me just enough space to breathe. “You’ll figure it out. You always do.”

I looked at you, and for a second, I forgot about the headlines, the shitty reviews, the people tearing me apart for the mess I’d made of my own career. “You ever think... maybe we should’ve done this differently?”

You raised an eyebrow, half amused, half sad. “Done what differently?”

I shrugged, feeling stupid for even bringing it up. “Us. This. Everything.”

You smiled, but it didn’t reach your eyes. “We are what we are, Dieter…”

I wanted to say something, anything, but the words got stuck somewhere between my head and my heart. So, I did what I always do—I let the moment pass, hoping it wouldn’t be the last.

–

“I’m done, Dieter. I can’t do this anymore.”

The words hung in the air, and I could feel my chest tighten. You stood there, calm but determined, like you’d been preparing for this moment for a long time. I tried to read your face, but it was like staring at a wall—no cracks, no second thoughts.

“What do you mean, you’re done?” I shot back, my voice sharper than I intended. “We’ve been together for years! We fight, we figure it out. That’s what we do.”

You exhaled, shaking your head slowly. “We’re not together, Dieter. Not really. Not in the way that matters.” You paused, searching for the right words, and I hated how composed you were while I felt like everything was falling apart. “I want a real relationship, Dieter. I want to feel like I’m more than just the person you run to when your life is spiraling. I want something that’s going somewhere.”

I stared at you, thrown by how final you sounded. “We are going somewhere. It’s just… complicated. But we can figure it out.”

“Complicated?” You scoffed, eyes narrowing. “Dieter, I’ve been with you through your worst. Through the scandals, the press, and the stretch of weeks you didn’t even call me because you were too drunk or too high to even remember who you were with. And I stood by you, I waited for you… waiting for things to get better, but they never did. And you know why? Because you never wanted them to.”

“That’s not true,” I argued, frustration bubbling over. “I love you, you know I do.”

“But what is that worth?” you said, your voice finally breaking, the tears threatening to spill but held back by sheer force of will. “Love isn’t enough when I’m stuck living half a life with someone who can’t even be bothered to call me just because... You can’t even take me out to a decent meal. The best I get is my couch, or sitting in a Five Guys parking lot, eating drive-thru in your car with the windows tinted so dark that no one sees us. That’s not a relationship, Dieter. It’s barely even anything.”

I tried to speak, but every excuse felt thin and worn out. You were tired of the same old lines, the same old promises that things would change. And deep down, I knew I couldn’t give you what you wanted, not because I didn’t want to, but because I didn’t know how.

“It’s not that easy,” I said, frustration lacing my voice. “I can’t just—”

“That’s the point!” you interrupted, your voice rising as you lost that calm veneer. “I don’t want it to be this way. And I can’t ask you to change your life for me, I won't even want to do that… to put me in your world when I know that no one would believe it if I even tried to scream it out loud that you love me. Who would believe some girl like me? Living this mundane life, far away from the adventures you’re off having when you’re not here, when you’re not hiding away with me.”

You softened for a moment, a flicker of the love we once had shining through the hurt. “I love you too, Dieter. But love isn’t enough. Not when I can’t even call you my boyfriend, not when I’m just the girl you go to hide away when it’s convenient.”

You looked at me, your eyes filled with a mix of sadness and resolve. “I need more than this. I need more than stolen moments and secret meetups. I need someone who isn’t afraid to be with me, who wants to be with me. And you’re not that person, Dieter. You never have been.”

The finality of your words hung in the air between us, heavy and suffocating. I wanted to fight, to tell you that I could change, that we could make it work, but deep down, I knew you were right. I’d always been too afraid to give you what you deserved, and now I was paying the price.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered, the words feeling hollow and inadequate. “I’m so fucking sorry.”

You nodded, tears spilling over despite your best efforts to hold them back. “So am I,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “But I can’t do this anymore. I can’t keep pretending that this is enough when it’s not.”

You turned to open the door, and I watched you go, my heart breaking as the door closed behind you. You didn’t even stop to hesitate or even look back… I wanted to run after you, to pull you back and promise that I’d be better, that I’d be the man you needed. But I didn’t. I couldn’t. And that was the moment I lost you—for good this time.

–

I don’t even know why I’m here, but I can’t seem to stay away. I park a little down the street, close enough to see but far enough to not be seen, and I watch through the large windows of your house. It’s early evening, the lights are on, and I can see you moving around the kitchen, your silhouette framed against the glow.

You’re different now. Softer. Happier. And as my eyes drift lower, I see the subtle curve of your stomach, round and unmistakable. You’re pregnant. Again.

It hits me like a punch, the memory of the first time I saw you like this. I remember the way your body changed, how your skin seemed to glow, how you moved with this new grace that had me staring at you like I’d never seen anything more beautiful. You were carrying someone else’s child, but all I could think about was how much I wanted you, how much I wanted to be the one to fill you up, to make you mine in every way possible.

You shift, one hand resting on your growing belly, and I feel it all over again—the longing, the jealousy, the regret. I’d lie awake at night, thinking about you, about what it would feel like to be the one who got to hold you when you were swollen with life, about the softness of your body pressed up against mine. And now, it’s like I’m being forced to watch the life I could have had unfold right in front of me.

You laugh at something, one hand absentmindedly smoothing down your shirt, and there’s this guy—your husband, I guess—walking in from another room. He leans in, kisses you on the cheek, and it’s so damn domestic that it makes me sick. I don’t even know him, but I hate him. I hate how he gets to have you in ways I never could.

I watch as he rests his hand on your stomach, his thumb rubbing gentle circles that make you smile. It’s intimate, tender, and I can’t tear my eyes away. You look so content, so fucking perfect, and all I can think is that I’m the idiot who let this slip through my fingers.

My grip on the steering wheel tightens, knuckles white as I fight the urge to storm up to that door and tell you everything I’ve been too scared to say. I want to tell you that you’re still the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen, that I miss you in ways I can’t even describe. I want to tell you that I wish it was me. That I wish I’d been enough.

But it’s too late. It’s always been too late.

I start the engine, but I don’t drive away right away. I just sit there, staring at the life that’s no longer mine, and I feel this hollow ache in my chest that I can’t ever seem to fill. I think about you, about the way you looked at me that night when you said you loved me but that it wasn’t enough. And maybe it never was.

As I pull away, I catch one last glimpse of you through the window, your hand resting on top of your oldest child's head while you spoke to your husband, and I feel like I’m leaving something behind all over again. Maybe one day, I’ll stop coming back here. Maybe one day, I’ll let go of this ghost that’s been haunting me.

But for now, all I can do is drive. Away from you. Away from the life I’ll never have. And I wonder, for the hundredth time, what might have been if I’d just been a better man.

[wildemaven]

You get to watch Dieter host SNL

[huntingingoodwill]

taste (d.b.)

masterlist

pairing: dieter bravo x personal shopper! reader

desc: you give dieter some much needed cooking lessons. he’s a terrible student.

a/n: written as a stand-alone but! if u wanna read the first personal shopper! reader story it’s right here

“Tell me again,” you sighed, whipping your tinted shades off your face as you hugged the bag of groceries closer to your chest, “how did you manage to convince me to do this?” 

Dieter sauntered over, a triumphant glint in his eye as he peered at you over the edge of his sunglasses. 

“My irresistible charm,” he grinned, taking the bag from your hands. “Or… maybe the fact that you’re on my payroll? But I like to think it’s the former. You’re even starting to dress like me.” He smirked, gesturing at the sunglasses you had cinched between your fingers. 

Ever since admitting he didn’t know how to cook, Dieter had been trying to convince you to come over and give him a cooking lesson whenever his personal chef had a day off:  a thinly veiled attempt to relentlessly flirt with you over dinner. Yes, it was out of your job scope as his personal shopper, but you gave in rather easily - there was something amusing about him, something almost…cute. Not that you’d admit that to him, of course.

“I don’t wear sunglasses indoors,” you pulled the shades off his face and tossed them aside, where they clattered onto his dining table.

His eyes narrowed, squinting into the soft lighting of his house. 

“When did it get so bright in here?” 

You rolled your eyes, sauntering past him into the kitchen.

“How does someone who doesn’t know how to cook have an amazing kitchen like this?” you sighed.

You marvelled at his kitchen, all high ceilings and marble counters, with countless appliances populating the shelves. 

“A couple of shitty Netflix originals and the cost is covered," he sighed, reliving the cringey scenes in his mind. The tortured look in his eye flickered away, replaced with a smile. “So, you ready for our second date?” 

“It’s not really a date. I’m just teaching you how to cook. Out of pity.” 

“So, you pity me.” he smirked, as if that was a win, “That means you care.” 

“It means I knew you’d starve without your chef.” 

“Which means,” he smiled, pointing a finger at you, “you care.” 

You ignored him, pointedly dumping out the contents of the grocery bag onto the counter, holding up a large yellow onion. 

“This,” you said, brandishing it, “is an onion.” 

You sounded the syllables out, voice sarcastically cresting through each letter.

Dieter put on an expression of mock shock. “No. Way.” 

“Way. And you’re gonna cut it,” you said, tossing him the onion, which he narrowly managed to avoid dropping. “Think you can handle that?” 

“I can try,” he said, with an air of confidence you were not fully convinced of. 

You had decided to do something simple, as you knew Dieter’s cooking skills were lacking. Your fingers skimmed the countertop, taking inventory of what you had brought. Pasta, jarred sauce, tomatoes, garlic, onion, basil-

“I can’t try.” Dieter’s voice warbled unsteadily. 

You turned to be met by the sight of a tearful Dieter, his eyes red (well, redder than usual, and for different reasons), and glazed with tears. He held the knife in his hand, the bite of the onion’s stench wafting up from where it lay, half chopped, on the counter.

“Feeling a bit emotional?” you laughed, tossing the onions into a pan with oil and placing it over the stove.

“I’m an actor. I’m in touch with my feelings,” his voice cracked. 

You stifled a laugh, tearing off a square of paper towel from the roll. You closed the space between you two, dabbing the tears off his cheeks. Catching his eye, you suddenly became aware of your closeness, your heart thrumming. Swallowing thickly, you broke eye contact and focused on wicking away his tears, trying to calm your heartbeat. You did not date clients.

“Is this getting kinda… romantic, right now?” Dieter said, unable to hide his grin. 

Of course, even as you tried to push away the tension, he’d pick up on it instantly. 

You rolled your eyes. “You’re crying while holding a knife. And you smell like onions.” 

The corner of his lips pulled up in a lopsided smile. “Better than how most of my dates go.” 

You snorted, tossing the paper towel aside. “You really meant it when you said you couldn’t cook, huh?” 

“I can’t even boil water.” 

You threw your head back in a laugh. “Well, that’s certainly a good place to start.”

You grabbed a pot, filling it with water and placing it atop the burner. 

“Here’s how you boil water. You ready?” 

“Yes,” he said, determination lighting up his eyes as he rolled up his sleeves.

“I don’t think you are, it’s a huge undertaking,” you said, feigning complete earnestness as you pressed your lips into a solemn line. 

“I’ve been training my whole life for this. I’m ready,” he played along, eyebrows knitting together as he focused his eyes on the pot. 

“Give me your hand.” 

“I’ll warn you. It’s shaking,” he said, making his hand tremble dramatically. 

“I’m nervous too,” you said, barely able to conceal your smile. “You ready?” 

You put your hand over his, the skin of the back of his palm warm against the cold metal of his rings. You led it toward the stove knob. Holding your hand over his, you guided him to turn the knob, fire sprouting from the stove beneath the pot. 

“Wait a little while, and you’ve boiled water,” you smiled. 

“Does that mean you’ll take your hand off mine? I hope not,” he sighed, watching bubbles ping against the pot as the water began to simmer. 

“I’ll have to do it eventually.” 

“Then do it,” he challenged.

“No,” you said, keeping your hand firm over his, trying to convince yourself that you didn’t actually like the feeling of his skin against your palm. 

“Why not?” 

“Because you told me to,” you smiled, your thumb ghosting his knuckles, fingers nearly slotting into the spaces in between his. 

“I’m your boss. I’m supposed to tell you to do things,” he chuckled. 

“This is after hours. You don’t know how to cook, I’m teaching you how. If anything, I’m your boss now.” 

“Hot,” he smirked. 

“Ew,” you laughed, not feeling an iota of disgust. 

“It is getting kinda hot in here.”

“Because of me?” You smirked, taking a note from his cheesy lines. If you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em. 

“Yes. But also physically. Maybe because the onions are burning.” 

“Fuck.” 

You turned toward the stove, the charred remains of the onions sticking to the bottom of the pan in a sticky, black blob.

“I think I’m rubbing off on you,” Dieter sighed, throwing an arm over your shoulder. You allowed yourself to lean into his side, relishing the warmth that emanated from him as you both looked despairingly upon the blackened pan. “You don’t even know how to cook now.”

“Who needs to know how to cook?” You sighed in defeat. “There's always delivery."

Thirty minutes later, the two of you were sitting at his dining table, a greasy pizza box sitting before you. 

“Are you sure this pizza is organic?” He said, shovelling a slice into his mouth. 

“‘Course not,” you sighed, picking up a slice, “But do you really care?”

“Ugh,” he said, taking another bite, “No.” 

You laughed, gazing at that little crinkle at the edge of his eye as his brown irises glowed in the flickering candlelight. 

“The candle is a nice touch,” your voice was dreamy as you gestured at the candle he lit on the dining table, the room bathed in its warm light. Maybe you did date clients. “It’s almost-” 

“-Romantic?” He grinned.  

“Hazardous,” you smirked, trying not to make any rash decisions, no matter how much you wanted to kiss him, “Try not to set anything on fire.”

“No promises,” he said, that glint in his eyes bright, even in the low light of the candlelit room. “It’s kinda bright in here, huh?” He chuckled, reaching for his sunglasses and sliding them on. 

You chuckled as he looked at you expectantly. Alright, you’d give in. 

“A little,” you smiled, putting your own sunglasses on, matching him. 

His lips formed a huge smile as he put his arm around you, the weight around your shoulders pleasant. He opened his mouth, about to make another cheesy remark when you cut him off.

“Let’s be clear,” you said, wagging a finger in his face, “I am not starting to dress like you. I haven’t fully given up yet,” you teased, gesturing at his outfit, a sweatpants and ratty hoodie combination. “I’m taking you clothes shopping next. That’s within my job scope, at least.” 

“It’ll be our third date,” he smiled, pulling you closer. 

“Shut up,” you smiled. 

[umadosedepascal]

MEET ME AT THE SET | Pedro Pascal X f!reader | one shot

Written by Santa Trindade

Banner by @missyorkswhore

Made in Brazil

Pairing: Pedro Pascal x f!reader

Summary: Pedro is THE GENERAL, babe!

wc: 1.3k

rating/warnings: [oral sex m receiving] [cum in mouth] [light fingering] [Overstimulation]

a/n: @missyorkswhore wrote her first solo fic by herself! Kudos to her!!! That’s what a horny gal does staring at new stills of Pedro in Gladiator II

The shootings has been intense, Pedro tells you by messages how busy and exhausting it is, they start recording as soon as the first rays of Sun appear and only at night he returns to the hotel.

This has been your relationship, messages, backstage pics and some calls during the night.

You miss him.

"I miss you, I hope you're having fun, General."

You send him a message, hours later his phone vibrates, it's already dawn, you pick up your phone, your eyes burning with the brightness of the screen.

"Hey, I miss you too. God, I'm exhausted and happy, I have good news! It's the last week of shooting, come here, we can enjoy a few days together. Are you coming?"

You smile and type a huge YES. You talk for a few minutes and Pedro sends your flight info and hotel to your email.

Three days later you are on your way to the set, Pedro couldn't pick you up at the airport, but arrange a car to take you immediately to the set.

You enter through the back of the set, producers and employees everywhere, and in the background you can see the huge arena they created, you feel as if you were in two eras, on your left ancient Rome, on your right the current world full of cameras, phones ringing and people walking back and forth.

You walk between the trailers, looking at the doors that indicate where each actor is, a few more steps and your eyes meet the sign "Pedro Pascal -Marcus Acacius" you knock on the door but your jaw drops as soon as the door is opened. Pedro has one hand on the door and the other on his hip. He is incredibly beautiful, a white outfit with golden details, the golden drawings highlighting the middle of the white armor. Your eyes go up to Pedro's face, he wears a golden laurel crown.

-Wow... sorry, I thought it was Pedro's dressing room...

Pedro laughs and pulls you by the hand

-No love, Pedro is unavailable at the moment, only General Acacius now.

He kisses you and you feel his taste, the taste you were searching for. His right hand goes to your waist pulling you against his body, his left hand on the back of your neck, lightly pulling your hair making your head tilt back.

-God, I missed that so much.

He murmurs as he runs his lips down your neck leaving soft bites that make you shiver and moan softly.

You push him until Pedro falls sitting in the armchair behind him, he smiles as he watches you kneel slowly at him.

-I heard that in ancient Rome after battles men went for a bath place, is this the name?

And they were very well taken care of... and you're so exhausted, aren't you general?

Pedro laughs softly and caresses his cheek with his fingers going down the sensitive skin of your neck, he nods and whispers

-Yes, so exhausted.

You run your hands down his legs, the skin hot, the muscles getting tense under the palms of your hand. You don't stop looking at him, seeing how his lips become half open, his eyes getting darker and darker.

You raise your hands until the tips of your fingers meet his underwear, feeling the heat of his cock.

You pull his underwear down, taking them off by the legs and throw them on the floor.

Pedro looks hypnotized, he smiles and you go up the fabric of his clothes until his cock is fully exposed, the wet pink tip, the lateral vein pulsating while he whispers.

-Is that what you want?

He smiles debauchedly.

You nod your head, your right hand holding by the base feeling it pulsating, Pedro's eyes close quickly. His breathing changes when you lick the drop that accumulates at the tip, his thumb goes up to your lips spreading the liquid, you suck his finger, biting and making Pedro gasp his hand going straight to your hair.

-Don't play with me like that or-

Before he can complete the sentence you put his cock in your mouth, as much as you can, his bittersweet taste on your tongue, the lateral vein pulsating, the unique smell of his skin invading your nostrils.

Pedro moans and you look at him and can't hold back the moan with what you see. Pedro with his eyes almost closed, his mouth open, his breath starting to get panting and the damn laurel wreath. He looks like a fucking Greek God.

You swallow it all feeling it hit your throat. Pedro lets his head fall back and a hoarse moan comes out of his throat, his hand grabs your hair firmly, conducting as he wants, how hard he wants to fuck his mouth.

You continue the up and down movements, swirling your tongue at the tip, you can't look away, his vision with the white armor.

Pedro takes his left hand to your head, both hands guiding you, making you take him so deeply.

He bites his lip, you know he wants to moan and curse, but now it takes a little silence, only small hoarse moans escape his lips, his eyes wandering between his mouth and his eyes.

-If it continues like this I'll cum in your mouth...fuck! - he moans loudly when he feels you masturbate him while your tongue passes through the tip provoking him, you whisper

-Is that what you want, general? - you gently run your tongue over the tip of his cock, provoking the sensitive skin that makes his legs tense.

Pedro growls and pushes his head making your mouth swallow his whole cock.

-Damn, yes...don't stop, please.

Pedro's right hand finds yours on the inner of his thigh, his fingers intertwining yours, while the left hand holds your hair, preventing the strands from hindering his vision of you sucking it.

You suck for a few more seconds until you feel Pedro squeezing your hand hard, his legs shaking, moans escaping from his lips, so low that they seem growling. You swallow every drop, licking until Pedro has spasms and pulls you to his lap.

He sticks his forehead to yours, panting, he kisses your lips pulling between his teeth and smiles.

-I missed you so much.

Pedro unbuttons your pants, his fingers dipping inside your panties and feeling how wet you are.

-Shit, I need to feel you on my tongue now.

He says while biting and licking your neck.

A knock on the door catches your attention, someone says that Pedro's scene is the next one to be shoot. He throws his head back, frustrated and you laugh.

-All right, go soon General... I'll be at the hotel waiting for you.

Pedro kisses you, his middle finger dives into your pussy and he takes it to his lips, sucking while moaning as if he were tasting the best dessert in the world.

-Now I can go...wait for me at the hotel, I'll be there in a few hours.

He kisses you, fixes the clothes wearing the underwear again. He looks at you and smiles, he hugs you and kisses your forehead and then your lips.

-I really missed you.

He turns around, puts on his sunglasses and opens the trailer door, and leaves.

You can't wait for the day to end.

——————————-

Thanks for being here and read our delusional fics, likes are appreciate, comments even more. If you want to ask anything, blast it!

[jpbpxma]

hi, this is a new writing blog for pedro pascal & his characters. I have many ideas of my own to post but I'm also accepting requests for scenarios, specific characters of his you'd like to see written or just anything really, even if it's just to talk so shoot me an ask :)<3

(yes the picture is a way to bring your attention to this post)

[absurdthirst]

The Mismatch {Alpha!Dieter Bravo x Omega!F!Reader}

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 13.1k

Warnings: Alpha/Omega dynamics, mentions of social structures, classism, drug use (it's Dieter), mentions of bisexuality, deceit, jealousy, mentions of knotting, fighting, oral sex (female receiving), vaginal sex, knotting

Comments: Tired of living a life of debauchery, Dieter decides to use Omega Finder, to discover who is omega is. Witnessing this folly as his assistant, you know that he won't find her. Until he does, confusing you since you are his omega.

*** When reblogging or talking about Omegaverse, please remember that ‘a/b/o’ without the slash punctuation marks (/) is considered a slur for the Aboriginal people in Australia.

Co-written by @storiesofthefandomlovers

**Follow @absurdthirst-writes and turn on notifications to stay up to date on all new fics.

|| MasterList || Dieter Bravo MasterList ||

Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

"Dieter. It's a pleasure to sit down with you today." The interviewer from The New York Times sits down with the actor. 

"It's a pleasure to be here." He smiles, his wedding ring flashing from the bright lights that have been set up in his living room.

"So, you've been married for ten years now. How are you enjoying married life?" The interviewer asks and Dieter grins, "it's amazing. I love her more and more every day. I never imagined it would be  like this." He declares and the interviewer nods, "you had an agency find your mate, correct?" Dieter nods, "yes...but it wasn't smooth sailing."

****

Everyday it surprises you that Dieter Bravo is an alpha. The neediness, the whining, the childish pouts when he doesn’t get his way or someone doesn’t recognize him on the street. You would have never guessed that he was an alpha before you started working for him. The alarm on your phone goes off, reminding you to take your suppressants and you pull the pill bottle out of your purse, popping one into your mouth as the trailer door flings open and Dieter rushes inside. The set makeup looks comical considering his eyes are widened and excited but the makeup is bold and dramatic. “I’m going to do it!” He cries out enthusiastically, making you frown. 

“Do what?” 

He huffs and rolls his eyes, expecting you to read his mind, you already anticipate every single one of his needs - right down to his drug resupply. “I’m going to find my mate!” 

Your eyes widen in shock, surprised that he would even consider that. “What? Why?”

Dieter looks up from his phone, "I want to find my omega. This agency...they will find them. They track the DNA data and find your mate...for a large fee of course." Dieter says and you sigh, knowing that the man is incapable of being monogamous. "Not available to the normies...you guys have MateMatch or whatever. This is for the elites who don't have time or the capacity to go out on dates sniffing for their omega." He snorts and looks in the mirror, "I want to settle down. Getting too fucking old now. I want my mate. My person." He declares, frowning at the wrinkles on his face.

Normies. Dieter thinks you are a beta. It doesn’t help that you have been on suppressants since before you worked for him, and you’ve never corrected him on his mistake. For good reason. Dieter does not need to know that you are an omega. “Dieter…” you sigh. “Your mate will expect you to be monogamous.” You remind him. “Biology will expect you to be monogamous. Once you are bonded….you can’t sleep around.”

Dieter rolls his eyes, “duh. I know that. I’m tired of waking up in a pile of bodies covered in cum and no one. No. One. Wants to cuddle me when the daylight is coming in the window. I don’t want to be alone for the rest of my life. I’m not stupid. I know that my looks and money will take me so far but when I’m shitting myself, who is gonna love me? My mate would.” He says dramatically, “I’ve made up my mind. The agency is already trying to find them.” He declares, “I’ll be a mated man in no time.”

You try not to huff, knowing he would pry and when Dieter wants to know something he will pester you until you give in. The truth is, he won’t find his mate easily, because she’s already standing in front of him. “Just…don’t get discouraged if it takes some time.” You offer, feeling slightly guilty about not telling him the truth and costing him a lot of money. You know he wouldn’t want you as his mate, you’re his assistant. The only reason you know that painful truth is because of a week he was away and your suppressants had run out. The shirt he had stuffed in your bag one night had called to you, making you go into heat until you could get a refill on your prescription. Blocking your scent again for when you were around him.

Dieter scoffs, "they are professionals. I bet I am married off before the end of the year. Dieter Bravo...serial monogamist. Now that would be a headline." He chuckles and reaches up to adjust his hair before he heads out onto set. 

It takes a couple of weeks but finally, Dieter gets the call. It's late after a long day of press junkets and Dieter is in the back of the town car beside you when his phone rings. "Hello?" He answers, putting it on speaking because he doesn't like the phone on his face. 

"Hi, Mr. Bravo. We have news." Shelley, the agency advisor says and Dieter bites his lip, nervous as fuck. "We found her!" Shelley declares and Dieter's eyes widen. 

"Oh wow. It's - it's a woman. Not that I'm complaining. I don't mind but - wow." He chokes, shocked that this is suddenly real.

You can hear everything, fingers twisted together and you hate how your gasp makes him turn towards you. They found you somehow? How did this company manage to get a sample of your DNA? You never allowed any of your blood to be put into a database. Shifting in your seat, you prepare for a difficult conversation with your boss about why you hid your omega status, and the fact that you are his mate.

“They found my mate.” He declares and Shelly continues to give Dieter the details. 

“Her name is Polly and she lives in San Fran. We are arranging for her to come here to L.A this weekend. She’s younger than you. 28. Blonde. Blue eyes. She’s fertile and ready to find her forever.” Shelley declares and Dieter shakes his head. 

“I can’t - I can’t believe it.” He grins and bids Shelley goodbye after confirming she will email the details. “Can you come with me to meet her? I’m- I’m fucking nervous.” He admits, his hands shaking slightly.

Stunned silent for a moment, you don’t know what to say. They couldn’t have found someone else, there’s never been a case of anyone having two mates. “I-um- Dieter….” 

He frowns, grabbing your hand. “Please, I need you. You know what to do to keep me calm. I can’t be high when I meet my mate.” He begs, making you bite your lip. 

“Yeah, I guess.” You murmur quietly, unsure if you need to tell him this company is lying to him.

He exhales shakily, squeezing your hand, “thank you. I don’t know what I’d do without you.” He says, leaning in to press a kiss to your cheek. He feels a spark from your skin but he thinks it’s the tab he took before he left his trailer. “I need you there because I can’t afford to mess this up.” He stresses and you nod, a frown still on your face but he doesn’t notice.

You need to find out what company Dieter hired to find his mate, because they have fucked up royally. He lets go of your hand and you immediately start going through his schedule. If you know anything about him, he will want to have a chemical peel, to rejuvenate his skin and meet with that spiritual hack that he is convinced works miracles on his aura.

Dieter panics every single hour of the day until the moment arrives. He exhales shakily, his hands shaking and he's stone cold sober, not even a swig of booze. He looks over at you as he waits for his mate, dressed in a blue suit and his hair styled. "How do I look?" He asks, needing some reassurance.

He looks incredible. You’ve managed to never feel jealous throughout all the lovers that have come through Dieter’s bed. Never let yourself be jealous. Now you are. He’s excited and hopeful, a light in his eyes that you’ve never seen before. “Dee….” He turns that expectant smile on you and you know it’s not the time to talk to him about this Omega Finder agency, “you look great.” You admit. “All Alpha-y.”

He pushes his shoulders back, puffing out his chest with pride that you think he looks like an alpha. He has never conformed to what an alpha should be. Some extreme groups dictate that alphas should become first class citizens like it was before the Omega/Beta Civil Rights Act in the 50s. He has fought hard for equality in the wake of his biological makeup and he hopes he has provided a good road map for younger alphas looking to break the mold. He has a tugging in his chest, his eyes meeting yours, and he disregards it as nerves. 

Shelley from the agency enters the room and Dieter swallows down the words that were bubbling in his throat, words that were foreign to his tongue. He wanted to thank you for helping him with everything. "It's time." Shelley declares and Dieter adjusts his jacket, rolling his neck as he follows Shelley to meet his mate.

You trail along behind him, curious to find out what kind of person they have gotten to play Dieter’s omega. You hate how excited he is, knowing that he would never be this happy if he knew you were his mate.

Dieter enters the room that was set up to meet his omega and she is facing away from him until he is a few steps away. She turns just as he approaches her, a wide smile on her face. "Dieter, baby! My alpha!" She cries, throwing herself in his arms. His arms wrap around her. She's gorgeous. Like supermodel gorgeous and Dieter buries his face in her neck, breathing her in. Her scent is warm and inviting, making him melt against her, and he feels like this is right. This is his omega. He's read about how this moment should feel. How it should make him want to drag her off to bed right away, make him want to cover her in his scent, but maybe that was the old method. Times have changed and you can't just fuck someone you meet seconds before. He squeezes her waist and pulls back, leaning in to kiss her softly. "Omega." He declares, knowing the agency must know who his match is and he won't doubt it. He wants this. He wants to be settled down and if it's Polly, then it''s Polly.

You can smell her. You frown when the scent is one that you know well. It’s your scent! Your nose curls slightly, aware that something has been manipulated and you aren’t sure what. There is no way that she should smell like you.

Polly kisses him back, her eyes wide and a smile on her face as she takes in the appearance of her alpha. "You're so handsome." She coos, cupping his cheeks, and he smiles at her. "You're beautiful." He declares and she smirks, "oh I know." He chuckles, a little awkward at her confidence but it's not a bad thing.

You instantly dislike her. It’s the conceited aura dripping out of her pores, along with the fact that you know this woman is lying to Dieter. You swallow back the jealousy, wishing you had told Dieter the truth before now.

“So…should we go get dinner? Get to know each other?” He suggests and she nods. Dieter feels a little more confident as he takes her hand in his and turns to look at you. “You booked the restaurant, right? I booked the whole place. I didn’t want us to be interrupted and it’s early days so the press would disturb us.” He explains to Polly who beams at the news that Dieter rented out an entire restaurant for her.

You snort, knowing you are the one who had called the restaurant to reserve the entire thing. It hadn’t been easy and you had to promise the entire staff exorbitant tips to make up for there only being one guest. Dieter’s LLC would pay it. You’ll have Dieter sign photos later on to give the staff too on the promise not photos or autographs tonight.

Polly squeals in excitement and Dieter’s smile falls slightly at the annoying sound. He doesn’t want to rip her clothes off. She’s beautiful but she’s like a lot of women his PR team set him up to date. Still, she’s his mate, his omega. You can’t deny science and biology. Her scent was mouthwatering and he can’t wait to get to know her more. “Shall we go?” Dieter asks, holding his hand out to Polly who nods and Dieter turns to look at you, “you’re dismissed. Thanks for helping.” He says, his eyes flat as he looks at you.

“Of course.” It hurts, it cuts deep when he looks at you like you are a piece of furniture but that's what you deserve for not being honest with him. “It’s my job.” You can’t watch the gorgeous woman drape herself over him for another second so you turn and walk to the door, wanting to get away from them and figure out what to do next.

****

“So…what’s it like being an Oscar winner?” Polly asks Dieter over dessert. 

Dieter sighs, setting his fork down, “it’s…a lot of pressure. The expectations are higher. When I was just getting started, I was constantly fighting, battling for screen time and now? I don’t even need to audition. It feels like I have let myself get lazy.” He admits and Polly shakes her head, “that just means you get the bigger jobs. More money. That’s success baby.” She winks and Dieter nods, “I guess so but I miss being a struggling artist sometimes.” He confesses and Polly giggles, thinking he’s joking. He chuckles alongside her, going along with “the joke.” When the date is over, Dieter pulls her close to kiss her, his head tilting to deepen the kiss and she cups his cheeks, sliding her tongue against his. Neither of them know that one of the kitchen staff that didn’t sign an NDA snaps a photo that will be splashed over the papers tomorrow. “Dieter and his omega” the headlines will read. 

****

“So did you know when you met her that she was your mate?” The interviewer asks, tilting his head, and Dieter chuckles. 

“No. Not really. Everyone talks about how you instantly connect. The romance movies that show the alpha and omega immediately kissing but that wasn’t what happened with me. It was slow. It took a while to recognize her and when I did, it was spectacular.” 

****

Dieter kisses Polly when she arrives at his house, ushering her inside. They have been dating for a few weeks, commuting between San Fran and L.A. “You got those spring rolls that Pol likes?” Dieter asks you when you set the take out bag down. It’s been chaotic since the press found out about his mate but he’s handled it, leaning into the story about wanting to find his omega. Polly handled it with grace and he’s ready to take the next step if she is tonight.

“Yes.” The answer is clipped, short. Annoyed that his ‘omega’ has started texting you demands like you work for her. When your priority is Dieter. 

“What’s wrong with you?” He huffs, pouting that you are being short with him. Dieter loves nothing more than to be adored and since Polly has shown up, your temper has been easily provoked. 

“Nothing.” You sigh, reminding yourself that you signed up for this. You didn’t tell him the truth. “Dee….are you sure the company is right?” You venture. “That she’s your omega?”

Dieter glances over at Polly who is on the phone to her friend and he shakes his head. “Who the fuck do you think you’re talking to? I paid five hundred grand for them to find my mate and you think they are wrong? No way. She’s - she’s perfect for me.” His voice wavers slightly as the doubts that he keeps in the back of his mind jump out in the form of his assistant.

Your eyes widen slightly when he tells you how much he paid, making your stomach churn and your gag reflex almost make you retch. “Sorry.” You mumble quietly, looking down at the bag and pulling out the food that he had requested for an at home date. He’s become more closed off since ‘finding his omega’ and you miss the boss that you could ask him anything and get an answer. “Do I need to go see Tommy?” You ask quietly, wanting to know if he needs a resupply on his drugs.

Dieter glances back over his shoulder at Polly. Dieter nods, knowing he needs to restock. “Yeah. Tell him to send an invoice. He knows I’m good for it.” Dieter whispers, not wanting Polly to know he’s still doing drugs. She told him when they were having dinner that he needed to change his drug habit…and his wardrobe.

You nod, although you don’t say anything. Dieter has changed and while you are proud that his drug usage has lessened, he’s not doing it for himself. There will be a moment where he over indulges and you hate that. It’s another reason why you had never let him know that you are his mate, you didn’t want to demand he stop doing what he wanted. “I will arrange it, sir.” You revert back to the more formal interaction, knowing that Polly prefers that. “Will that be all?”

Dieter stares at you for a moment, tilting his head as his stomach twists with something unknown. “Dee Dee, I’m starving.” Polly groans as she walks into the kitchen. 

“No. That’s all.” Dieter murmurs and you nod, glancing at Polly who hums at you, narrowing her eyes. You don’t say another word as you leave and Dieter stiffens as Polly’s hand slides down his back. 

“I want you, Alpha.” She coos and Dieter sighs, knowing this moment would come and he hopes it’s everything he has heard sex between mates is. He guesses his venture into drugs and multiple partners was in vain to recreate that feeling that so many have described as unlike anything they have ever experienced. Tonight, he’s going to have that with Polly.

Out in your car, you sigh, closing your eyes to hold back the tears that you don’t deserve to shed. You chose this, you let all this happen and Dieter couldn’t be happier with a woman who wasn’t you. His ‘mate’. You think you know what’s going on, but you can’t prove it, and hating that you can’t just go off your suppressants to prove that you are his mate. He would accuse you of manipulating your scent, which is exactly what Polly is doing. “Fuck.” You hiss, leaning back and starting the engine. You need to get away from here before you go back inside and beg Dieter to knot you.

The dinner is cleared away and the TV plays some show but Dieter isn’t paying attention. Polly notices and leans in to kiss him, straddling him, and it progresses from there. Dieter can be a selfish lover, he’s ashamed to admit that, but this is his mate so he goes down on her. Her arousal doesn’t make him ravenous like others have described but he guesses it’s him. He’s killed his taste buds with acid. He makes her cum and then finally, he’s sliding inside of her. His head feels heavy but he kisses her, rocking into her until she clamps down on his cock and he grunts when he cums. No knot. He pulls out of her when he goes soft moments later and she kisses along his chest as she curls around him. He didn’t knot her. He frowns as she coos his name and he doesn’t know what he did wrong.

“That was amazing.” Polly makes sure that her tits are against his chest, her leg thrown over his as she toys with one of his nipples. She's heard a lot of wild things about Dieter Bravo over the years and while he wasn’t as unhinged as she’s heard, maybe it’s because this is the first time. It’s supposed to be romantic. “You are amazing and I’m so glad I’m yours, alpha.”

Dieter hums, turning his head to softly kiss her, his hand sliding along her spine. She’s his omega. He can’t deny that since the agency found her based on her DNA. He is hers and she is his. “Me too.” He murmurs, trying to push aside the feeling that something is off. 

****

“So why did you decide to speak to us now? You’ve won seven Oscars. Produced multiple movies. Why did you decide to tell your story?” The interviewer asks and Dieter smiles, “because it’s about her. My omega. I wanted to tell the world and explain what happened. In my own words.” He looks down at his wedding ring with love in his eyes.

****

Dieter hisses your name from across the room. Polly is on the computer in the office across the house, shopping with his card. She’s moved into his home within the past three months and Dieter is happy. He’s happy to have someone to talk to. Even if that person was you before Polly was found. He loves her, he does. She’s beautiful. You walk over to where he’s standing in the kitchen and he opens the cabinet door, pulling a small velvet box from the cereal bowl that never gets used. “What do you think? Think she will like it?” He asks, opening the box.

Your mouth goes dry, eyes fixed in the ring in his hand and you can’t believe how much Dieter has changed. You had expected him to screw up, honestly. You had been there for the end with Anika and Kate, witnessed firsthand the self-destruction that he was capable of. It was one of the reasons you had not admitted your discovery to him. The ring is beautiful and you hate it. You hate that Polly is lying to him and telling him the truth is going to break his heart. “You can’t marry her.” You blurt out, looking up into his eyes. “She’s not your mate.”

Dieter narrows his eyes, “what did you just say?” He hisses, glancing over his shoulder to make sure Polly isn’t nearby, that she hasn’t come into the room. 

“She - she isn’t your mate.” You stammer at the look in his eyes as he glares at you. 

“Who the fuck do you think you are? Questioning my mate? How fucking dare you.” He hisses, “you’re just jealous. Is that it? Because you’re alone and you haven’t found anyone. Fuck, I can’t - you are fired.”

Your mouth drops open in shock, unable to believe that Dieter just fired you. You’ve been with him for years. “Dieter-“ he shakes his head and holds his hand out. 

“Give me your keys.” He demands, his voice rough with anger. “Please- just listen to me-“ he cuts you off. 

“I don’t want to hear it!” He shouts, chest heaving with fury. “You’re jealous that I’m happy, that I found my mate!” He yells. “That you don’t even have a mate, since you’re nothing but a Beta.” 

Your chin trembles, never imagining Dieter would insult you for his (wrong) idea that you are a beta. “Fine.” Tears are pooling in your eyes and you dig into your pocket to pull out your keys. “Don’t blame me when you are miserable.” You hiss. “Or when you are fucking unhappy when you can’t knot her. Because she’s not your mate.” You slap his key into his palm and start to gather your things.

Dieter falters because he didn’t knot Polly last night or any night before that. How the fuck did you know that? He stares at you and clenches his fist around the key. His eyes narrow and he shakes his head, “get the fuck out. I can’t - she’s my mate. She’s my omega. How dare you argue that.” He growls and hates that you leaving is more upsetting than him not being able to knot Polly.

You sadly shake your head and sigh. “I’ve never had anything but your best interests in mind, Dieter.” You remind him quietly. “I hope you are blissfully happy with your ‘omega’.” You turn around and walk towards the door without saying anything else. You will have to call his manager and let him know, Dieter will need another assistant. You open the door and pause, looking back at the handsome alpha. “Goodbye, alpha.”

Dieter watches you go, his heart aching from losing you. You're not only his assistant but also his friend. "Good riddance." He tells himself as he sets the key down just as Polly appears with a smile on her face. 

"Hey baby." She coos, leaning in to kiss him and Dieter sighs, barely able to kiss her back. Polly pouts as she pulls back and runs her fingers through his hair. She needs to make him cut it, he looks better with it shorter. And to take that ridiculous earring out. “What’s the matter, baby?” She asks, pressing up against him. “You look sad. Can I cheer you up, somehow?”

Dieter turns his head to press his lips to hers. Maybe he was in his head last night. He slides his tongue against hers, deciding that he will be taking her to bed again. “You can cheer me up by letting me make my little omega cum.” He murmurs against her lips and she giggles, grabbing his hand to drag him into his bedroom. The ring is still in the drawer and he will give it to her in the next few days. He wants this. He wants to be settled.

****

“I was afraid of that.” Dieter’s longtime manager, Martin, sighs on the other end of the line. “His…omega has made comments about being ‘uncomfortable’ having an unattached Beta being his assistant.” 

You grit your teeth, wanting to tell him that you aren’t a beta and that Polly was a fucking scheming liar. Except you will just look pathetically jealous. “I’ve updated his calendar, but I guess I need to mail the laptop and the phone to you.” You tell him. “Unless you want me to drop it by?”

Martin really hates losing you. You managed to keep Dieter on schedule and on time. “Yeah. I guess you can mail it. Use the card and put the card in there too.” He says, rubbing his cheek. “You know he wants to marry her?” Martin asks and you hum, trying to not let your feelings show through. “I think it’s a mistake.” Martin admits, “but you can’t deny biology.” 

****

“So how was the proposal? When you asked her to marry you?” The interviewer asks and Dieter smiles softly, “it was perfect. I couldn’t have planned it better and when she said yes…I swear my heart was gonna explode.” He sighs and the interviewer chuckles at the look on his face. “I was the same with my omega.” 

****

“Will you marry me?” Dieter asks as he kneels down in front of Polly. The display on a private beach is all for her. The display of roses, the sign, the fireworks, the candlelit dinner. All for his omega. 

“Yes! Yes! Yes!” Polly squeals and Dieter grins, standing up to kiss her. She wraps her arms around his neck and he breathes her in, that smell that has become familiar to him but doesn’t feel like home. Not like he’s been told. He ignores that and poses for the photos that will be published in the magazine. “Give them something and they will leave you alone.” His PR girl, Sally, told him when he protested having the engagement photos published. They will be printed tomorrow for the world to see.

You groan as you close the page on your phone, unable to stomach the sight of that smiling little fake, the gorgeous diamond ring gleaming in the photo as she caresses his chest. You’ve done a little research on Polly and she’s a failed actress. She’s been obsessed with Dieter and you think that she’s somehow gotten the agency to tell Dieter that she’s his mate. It’s frighteningly easy to clone the pheromones for a mate and they even do gland implants for those that wish to be an Omega and aren’t. You can’t help yourself and open the article again, looking at Dieter closely. Wondering if you are just imagining the uneasy edge to his eyes.

****

Dieter stares in the mirror, his hair cut shorter than he likes, and he sighs, wondering who it is staring back at him. Ever since he proposed to Polly three months ago, he’s gotten whiplash from how fast the wedding was planned. He barely got a say in the wedding plans after he paid for her to hire a planner and now here he is. His tux is pristine and he brushes down the non existent dust. So different from the man who would wear stained and hole ridden sweats. He still hasn’t knotted Polly. She said it could be because of the drugs so he’s given up everything but weed and the occasional molly. 

He invited you, wanting you to be here even if you are upset. He hasn’t spoken to you since that fateful day and he hopes he can reconcile with you. His chest has been aching since the day you walked out the door.

The invitation sits like a spector, mocking you as the elaborate gold leaf script announces the union between Dieter and Polly. An ‘amalgamation of love between an alpha and his omega’. The description makes you want to throw up. Still, you are touched that you received an invitation, feeling like it’s Dieter’s way of extending an olive branch. There’s no way Polly would have invited you willingly. You think about your closet, wanting to be well dressed while you witness your mate marry someone else.

****

“It sounds like a true romance between you and your leading lady. So, how was the wedding day? Everything you both dreamed of?” The interviewer asks Dieter who sighs with fondness of his memory of the day. 

“It was perfect. We declared our union in front of the world and it was intimate and everything I wanted.” He admits, “I can’t believe it’s been ten years since we ever married. What is the anniversary? Tin?” Dieter asks the interviewer who nods, “and the traditional gift is a diamond.” 

Dieter chuckles, “oh I know. I got her a beautiful new ring.” He says, proud of himself.

****

“I’m sorry ma’am, you aren’t on the guest list.” You frown at the security and reach into your clutch to pull out your invitation. 

“I have an invitation, right here.” You protest, showing them your name on the heavy card stock. “I can show you my license, I’m not crashing the wedding, I’m invited. I used to be Dieter’s assistant.” 

The larger man shakes his head and shrugs. “I guess you’ve been uninvited. No one gets in that isn’t on the list. By order of the bride.” 

You hiss in annoyance and take a deep breath. “Then I guess that I got dressed up for nothing.” You smile and turn from doors and walk back towards your car, wondering if there’s another way to talk to Dieter before the ceremony.

Dieter adjusts his cufflinks that Polly picked for him. She picked the most expensive thing for every detail of the wedding. It’s not like Dieter couldn’t afford it but he didn’t get to decide anything. It’s also being filmed for Vogue. Something that Dieter was against but Polly begged him and he couldn’t deny his mate. His mate. It sounds wrong but how can he deny biology?

Sneaking around the side of the building, you have slipped your shoes off because the heels are killing you and grabbed a bouquet of flowers to bring in, like you are a part of the florists crew. The staff is hurrying around and some of them throw you a grateful look as you set down the beautiful place setting where the others are clustered. Slipping down the halls to try to find Dieter.

Dieter exhales when the wedding planner comes over to tell him it’s nearly time. He sighs and adjusts his bow tie just as he looks over at the French doors in his groom’s suite. His eyes widen when he sees you standing there, heels in hand. He opens the doors and he gasps, “what are you doing here?”

“Dieter..” You drop your shoes and rush towards him. “You can’t marry Polly. She’s not your omega, she’s lying.” You stress, trembling with fear that he will just throw you out. “I know she’s not your mate, because I’m your real omega.” You had stopped taking your suppressants after Dieter fired you, letting your true scent come out as your glands started working again.

Dieter’s jaw drops and then he inhales. It hits him like a train. Your scent. More concentrated than Polly’s and more delicious. His cock hardens and his heart is pounding as he takes another breath. “What - how - but Polly- she?” He chokes, confused and torn. He wants to rip your clothes off right now. He closes his eyes, rubbing them to try and stop his head pounding.

“She lied to you.” You tell him quietly. “She had a gland transplant.” You had researched the procedures and you are sure that’s what she’s done. “I- I knew you would hate that your assistant was your mate, so I didn’t say anything when you used the agency. I thought they would never find me.”

He is so confused. You smell delicious but how does he know you’re not lying? The thought makes his stomach twist and he inherently knows it’s not true. “Why didn’t you - shit. She / the agency and Polly. How - I don’t understand.” His chest tightens and he starts to shorten his breath as his mind goes foggy.

“I don’t know how she did it, but she got them to lie to you.” You step forward, biting your lip. “I tried to tell you, I didn’t know how.” You admit quietly. “When I tried, you fired me. I thought you were happy, that you enjoyed still having that freedom that comes with not being with your mate.”

Dieter feels like he’s going to throw up. Your scent wafts over him, his cock hard in his pants and he shifts to sit down on the end of the bed in the groom’s room. He heaves, trying to process the mess he’s made by buying into Polly’s lies. 

He squeezes his eyes and that’s when you sing. “When I get older, losing my hair. Many years from now. Will you still be sending me a Valentine?” He opens his eyes, shocked that you’re singing his song. His comfort song. “Birthday greetings bottle of wine. If I'd been out till quarter to three Would you lock the door?” You sing and stand in front of him. “Will you still need me, will you still feed me?” You sing and he raises his head and sings along with you “when I'm sixty-four.” 

His eyes are wide, “how - how did you know - that song?” He chokes, his heart pounding in his chest.

“It’s your favorite song.” You whisper quietly. “You listen to it when you think no one is around. When you’re feeling lonely.” Swallowing harshly, you shake your head. “I fucked up, Dee.” You admit. “I was so convinced you didn’t actually want to find your mate that I didn’t trust you with the truth. It’s hurt so badly to deny what I need, on the basic, biological level.” You close your eyes. “If you love Polly, really love her and want her to be yours, I’ll leave.” You promise. “You’ll never see me again. You can have your happy future. I just-“ your eyes open again and you find his dark conflicted ones. “I want my alpha to be happy.”

Your words hit him like a brick wall and he stares at you. You stare back for a moment until you think you have your answer and you turn to leave. Dieter’s hand reaches for yours and he pulls you down into his lap, his nose buried in your scent gland so he can breathe you in properly. You’re his. His omega. He can’t get enough, inhaling your scent and he kisses your skin, making you whimper. That’s when he can’t hold back. His lips find yours and he cups the back of your neck, pressing you against him so he can slide his tongue into your mouth.

The shiver that runs through you is powerful, your body lighting up in pleasure as his tongue flicks inside your mouth. Nipples hardening and your cunt starting to get soaked from the scent of your alpha and the electricity that runs through your body as he touches you. Moaning quietly as you immediately submit to him, whining slightly when his fingers press against your glands at your wrist.

It’s indescribable how you feel, how he feels. Your scent clouding his senses and he can’t seem to get enough of you. His tongue slides against yours and his hands slide down to grab your waist, pulling you to straddle him and his cock is throbbing as you grind down against him. “Fuck. Omega.” He pants, “my omega.” He murmurs, his body recognizing you in a way it never recognized Polly.

You are caught up in it for a moment. Your heart racing with pure joy that he recognizes you, he sees that you are his mate. “Dee, Dieter-“ you pant as you pull away from him, aware that he is still technically engaged to another woman. “We - we can’t. You’re still- Polly.” Despite her deceit, you aren’t the kind of woman who betrays. 

He pants, resting his forehead against yours. “Shit.” He hisses, knowing he has to go out there and tell the world Polly isn’t his omega. “Baby, I have an idea. Revenge. A dish best served cold.” He smirks and cups your cheek, “I have a plan.” He declares, “I am going to wait for her to walk down the aisle and tell her what I know.”

“You are?” Your eyes widen dramatically and you know how embarrassing it will be for her to be exposed to the world like that. She deserves it though, she knows that she’s not his mate and she tricked him. “Dee- that means people will be asking how you didn’t know. Questioning that you didn’t knot her before now.”

Dieter nods, “I know. I’m going to tell them the truth. I thought I’d taken too many drugs that I couldn’t knot anyone. That could still be the case.” He warns you, “I just don’t know how she managed to fool me with your scent. How did she know? How did she get the agency to believe she was my mate?” He asks, pondering the situation while his hands caress you, comforted by your presence.

“I don’t know.” That’s the part that you haven’t figured out, no one at the agency would talk to you now that you aren’t Dieter’s assistant. “But I’m sure that you can find out, especially since you will be damaging their company image.” Your fingers sink into his hair and you scratch his scalp gently. “You cut your hair.” You hum. “I like it longer.”

He scoffs, “Polly likes it shorter.” He hates that he changed for her. “Come on, I have a wedding to ruin.” He smirks and helps you off his lap. “After it’s over, I want you, omega. For as long as you’ll have me.” He murmurs, caressing your cheek just as the doors open and the wedding planner walks in. Her eyes widen at the sight of you and Dieter so close and he lowers his hand. “We ready?” He asks, his back straightening and his voice taking on the alpha edge that he rarely uses.

You shiver slightly at the command that he has in his voice and you know that it’s inevitable that Dieter will have you tonight. You still wonder if he has ever wanted you or if it’s just because of your biology, but you can talk about this later. Right now, you have to stop Polly from scamming your alpha.

The wedding planner looks down at your bare feet and she looks back at Dieter who narrows his eyes at her, “we are ready.” He repeats and the wedding planner nods, jarred by his commanding tone, and they escort him through the halls. Dieter walks down the aisle without finesse, his hand holding yours and he sits you down on the front row, ignoring the murmurs and curiosity from the crowd. Half of whom he doesn’t even know who they are. He adjusts his jacket and stands straight, waiting for Polly to make her entrance.

You turn to look at her, having to admit that she looks beautiful. Her smile is beaming and bright as she walks serenely down the aisle. Obviously happy to be the center of attention. Until she spots you. She freezes for half a heartbeat and then her smile turns slightly wooden. Not that good of an actress as she picks up the pace slightly to meet dieter in front of the priest.

Dieter takes her hand when she approaches the floral arch that cost Dieter more money than he knows and he offers her an Oscar winning smile. He lets the officiant begin, speaking about the sanctity of marriage, of mating, and the unbreakable bond between Alpha and Omega. The words are ironic to Dieter but he doesn’t let that show. Cameras taking in his expression and when the officiant asks if anyone knows why they shouldn’t be wed, Polly turns her gaze to you. You remain silent and she narrows her eyes slightly, relieved that you didn’t make a scene. “Do you, Dieter Damian Bravo, take Polene Marie Smith to be your lawfully wedded wife?” The officiant asks and Dieter drops her hands, “no.” He declares and the crowd gasps. 

“Dieter. I don’t - what-?” Polly chokes and Dieter scoffs, turning to address the crowd. “This woman is not my omega. She somehow conned the agency I hired to find my mate into putting her forward. She had a gland implant and manufactured the scent of my real omega to fool me into believing she was mine. She’s not. She’s a fraud.” He growls, pointing at Polly.

“That’s not true!” Polly cries, shaking her head furiously and grabbing for Dieter’s hand, but he jerks away from her. “I am your Omega! I am! I have always been yours, from the moment I met you, saw you, I knew you were my mate!” She presses her fingers to her scent gland and holds it out to him. “This is real, my scent - it’s your mates!” She technically is right but you scoff and shake your head.

Dieter rips his hand from hers, shaking his head, “you’re right. It is my mate’s but that isn’t you. It’s her.” He points to you on the front row and the crowd gasps again. “You’re not my omega. Fuck, I couldn’t knot you. I thought there was something wrong with me but it’s you. It’s not me. You’re not my omega.” Dieter hisses and the crowd murmurs as shock ripples through the crowd.

Your eyes widen when he admits to the world that he hadn’t knotted her. The fact that this is being broadcasted live because of her obsession with Dieter’s fame means that there is no way that this scandal is going to be swept away. “How did you do it?” You demand. “Did you trick the company, or did Omega Finder knowingly scam a rich and famous client?”

Polly slumps, knowing the jig is up. Tears in her eyes as she looks at you then her eyes slide over to Dieter. "I have loved you since you were in Hunger Strike. I knew you were mine. I just needed to get close to you. My friend started working at Omega Finder and he - he messed up so I blackmailed him. Made him match me with Dieter in the system. I got a gland transplant when he found out who Dieter's actual omega is and I - I copied the scent listed. I am a beta. I just - I love you so much." She chokes, stumbling towards Dieter but he shakes his head, stepping away from her in shock.

You close your eyes in relief that she has admitted it. Now no one will think that you are somehow tricking Dieter. You sigh quietly and step forward, reaching for your alpha and placing a hand on his chest. “Since Omega Finder messed up, I’m sure they will give your money back,” you tell him, sure the company will face major backlash.

Dieter wraps his arm around your waist, “I don’t care about the money. They did end up helping me find my omega in the end.” He offers you a smile and leans in to kiss you softly. Polly sobs, throwing her veil down on the floor and she rushes down the aisle followed by her bridesmaids. Dieter caresses your cheek and inhales your scent, not tainted by chemicals. “Since the wedding is all set up…would you like to marry me?” He asks, “I know this isn’t what you picked out but I want to be joined to you in every way.”

“It is a little gaudy for my taste.” You admit with a small laugh. “More formal, but I don’t care about that.” You reach up and caress his cheek. “I’ll marry you now, alpha. I don’t want anything more than you.” You know that he can be immature and needy, but he is also kind and loving. The yearning in his eyes for you makes your heart melt.

Dieter grins, leaning in to kiss you once more until he pulls back and addresses the chattering crowd. “I know you all came here today expecting me to marry my omega and plans have changed but the reason for you all coming here today hasn’t changed. I am going to marry my omega. If anyone wishes to leave, please do it now because in five minutes, this gorgeous creature will be mine in the eyes of the state of California.”

You turn towards dieter as everyone starts to chatter amongst themselves. You know people will talk, and leave the wedding. Mostly Polly’s family and friends but a lot of people will stay merely to be curious. “I know it’s not a wedding dress, but this is okay?” You ask, gesturing to your outfit.

"You look fucking gorgeous. You always do. I know that I didn't treat you the best and I - I have learned a lot of lessons from this faux mating. You have always been gorgeous and I noticed but I was terrified to lose the best woman I've ever known. You are an incredible assistant and I didn't want to overstep and lose you so I never mentioned that I thought you were gorgeous and smart and funny and so, so sexy." He rambles slightly, unsure now that the drama is over.

You laugh at how ridiculous you both have been. “And I didn’t think you ever even looked at me that way.” You admit, smiling broadly. “I was afraid that you would be disappointed I am your omega, so when I found out, I didn’t say anything. I have always thought you are sweet, goofy, funny.” You promise. “But I also believe that you are a good alpha. You strive to not dominate, but you still have so much strength. It’s sexy, you’re sexy, but you know that.”

Dieter flushes slightly at your words and he reaches for your hand, bringing your wrist to his nose so he can breathe you in. “Fuck, you smell good. I bet you taste delicious.” He murmurs, kissing your pulse. The wedding planner, frazzled, comes over with a wedding license for you to sign. You should have your passport but Dieter can pull strings.

You sign your name eagerly, unable to believe that this is happening. You had thought you would have to watch your alpha marry someone else. Watching as Dieter signs it too and hands it back to the wedding planner. “Let’s get married!” He shouts, making the crowd of wedding attendees laugh. You wish you had put on your shoes, but it doesn’t matter now. Nothing matters but you and Dieter bonding and mating.

The officiant settles everyone down and you and Dieter hold hands as he begins his speech, modified for this new twist. "I gotta say I have never done a mating ceremony like this." He chuckles and the crowd laughs. Dieter only has eyes for you, his focus on you as he repeats the vows and when the officiant asks for the rings, Dieter shakes his head. "I don't want her to have that ring." He says, gesturing to the gaudy ring Polly picked out. He reaches up to take his necklace off, a small delicate ring looped through it. "This was my mother's. I want you to have it. I'll get you a proper ring later." He promises, sliding the ring onto your finger.

“It’s beautiful, Dee.” You promise, knowing that while it may not be flashy, its sentimental value makes it priceless. Instantly falling in love with it. You bring his hand up and kiss his knuckles, “I will keep it safe for our son or daughter to have one day.”

His grin is blinding and he kisses the back of your hand. You slide the ring he picked out onto his finger and moments later, the officiant declares you husband and wife. Dieter wastes no time surging forward to press his lips to yours.

Dieter’s lips pressed to yours makes every nerve in your body light up. Feeling like electricity is coursing through your body and you cling to him while the audience starts to clap and cheer for you. You don’t even care that the entire thing is being televised, just that you are where you belong.

Dieter pulls back and grabs your hand, guiding you down the aisle and you are still barefooted. When you are alone in the hall, he grabs your waist and presses you against the wall, his mouth descending upon yours once again.

Your hand curls around his neck as you drag him impossibly close. Moaning when his tongue slides into your mouth and tangles with yours. It’s completely overwhelming and beautiful. Feeling his cock harden against your hip, you whimper as you imagine actually taking him, your alpha, for the first time. “We have- the reception.” You pull away to remind him breathlessly.

He sighs, resting his forehead against yours. “Shit. Let’s - let’s have a dance. Have some cake. Then I want to take my beautiful wife to bed.” He murmurs, nudging his nose against yours. He’s excited, his cock throbbing, but he has to be patient. “And I want us to take photos for our kids.”

You can’t believe that Dieter is talking about kids. You’ve never known him to do that, but maybe it’s different with you, his omega. “We won’t stay too long.” You promise. “They can party without us, while we do our own kind of celebrating.”

Dieter smirks, “I like the way you think, baby.” He kisses you again just as the wedding planner comes over to usher you over for photos. You pose with Dieter, knowing these photos will be splashed over every magazine and social media page but you take them with your future in mind. After the photos are done, you and Dieter enter the reception hall to loud cheers and he guides you onto the floor for your first dance. “Don’t worry. I told the wedding planner to make sure the song was changed.” He and Polly didn’t have a song so he let her pick it but now he’s picked out the first dance. “When I get older, losing my hair.” The Beatles begins to play and you giggle, wrapping your arms around his neck and he starts to sing along.

You smile as Dieter coos off key to the lyrics of the song. Not caring about that at all, but the sentiment behind the song. “I love you.” You admit quietly. “I’ve always cared about you, always liked you, but when I found out you were my mate?” You shrug slightly. “I couldn’t help but fall in love with you.”

“Even with the chaos I embody?” He asks softly, swaying you to the song. “I was a mess. An asshole. Fucked whatever I fancied and took any drug I wanted. I don’t want that anymore. Well, maybe weed and the occasional pill but it’s not what I want to live like. I want you. When I sought out the agency, I wanted to settle down, to find my mate, and I found her. I’m all in.” He promises, “all in baby.”

All in. You know that he means that. His eyes are full of excitement and you reach up to brush your fingers through his hair. “I’m all in too. I still want to work, to be your assistant if you’ll let me.” You know he’s hired someone else, but you liked organizing his life.

Dieter nods, knowing he’s selfish but he doesn’t want to find another assistant when you know everything down to his bowel movement schedule. “I don’t want you to leave me alone at work.” He confesses, sliding his hands along your back. “I love you.” He murmurs, pecking your lips when the song ends and the crowd applauds. “You hungry, ‘mega?” He asks, holding your hand.

It feels good to know that he is an alpha that will take care of your needs when you have taken care of him for so long. “I think we should eat.” You admit softly. “It’s been a long time since I’ve been with someone and I’m sure that I will go into heat during our honeymoon.”

Dieter holds your chair out at the head table so you can sit down together. He takes his seat moments later and reaches for your hand. “I’ll look after you. No matter what. Tonight-” His hand finds your neck, “I want to make you as mine. My ring on your finger. My mark on your neck. My cum inside of you. My omega.” He growls softly, his dark eyes flashing with possession.

His fingers press against your scent gland and you whine submissively. “Yes alpha.” You agree, slightly breathless at the thought. “I’m- I’m not on anything.” You confess quietly. “No suppressants, no birth control. I stopped them when you fired me.”

Dieter inhales deeply, loving your scent, untainted, and he nods, “that’s okay. I- I’m ready for a child if it happens. Are you?” He asks, “if not, I have condoms.” He says, not wanting you to get pregnant if you’re not ready.

“I want to feel your knot inside me. Just you.” You admit. “No barriers between us.” You don’t mind the idea of Dieter knocking you up the first time you have sex with your mate. It would actually be a really sweet little story for your personal lives.

Dieter offers you that soft, love struck smile that has appeared with the knowledge that you are his omega. “Good.” He murmurs, caressing your cheek just as the food arrives. “Now, eat omega. You’re gonna need it.” He winks at you and digs into his own food.

You hum as people come up to congratulate DIeter while you eat, most of them not even knowing who you are. Your phone is in your car and you know your family will have heard the news. You will have to have a reception with them or something to make up for the spur of the moment wedding.

Dieter knows he needs to speak to your parents after today to explain himself and he hopes your father doesn’t hate him. After you finish eating, you are invited to cut the cake. “I know you didn’t choose any of this, baby. We can have another bonding ceremony.” He promises, “another wedding where you can pick everything.”

“I don’t care about these things.” You admit with a small shrug of your shoulders. “We can do something small, that is more our speed.” You know Dieter would have chosen none of this himself either. Leaning in, you press your lips to his. “All that matters is that we are together. And happy.”

Dieter hums, pecking his lips against yours, “I love you.” He murmurs, knowing it’s true. He didn’t realize it before today but you’ve always been special to him. “You want to bail? They can enjoy the party.” He smirks, kissing your jaw.

You know that you should probably stay, the cameras are still floating through the crowds, the reporters are interviewing any and everyone to get their reactions to the change of plans when it comes to Dieter and it's honestly very on point for him. You grin, pulling away and nodding. "Let's go."

Dieter takes your hand, guiding you towards the back of the room and you giggle as he drags you out of the emergency fire exit door. He chuckles as you both rush outside. You still are barefooted, and he escorts you to the car that was going to take him and Penny back to his house. Dieter opens the passenger door to help you inside before he gets in, the driver off somewhere but the keys are in the ignition. “Let’s go.” He winks, turning the engine and putting the car in drive.

You should be surprised by Dieter basically stealing his own car, but you’re not. Giggling as he speeds off, you know it’s been caught on camera, another crazy story for today. Right now, you just want to be with Dieter. “Is Polly going to be at the house?” You ask suddenly, not wanting a tearful apology or confrontation with the other woman. You don’t care to ever see her again.

Dieter shakes his head, “no. She won’t be at the house.” He promises, “and if she is, I’ll call the police.” He reaches for your hand, caressing his mother’s ring that he placed on your finger.

“Okay.” You nod. “If you had, I was going to suggest my apartment.” You tell him. “I know it’s not as fancy as your house in Sherman Oaks.”

Dieter snorts, "fancy? Like a goddamn status symbol. That's all it is. My apartment when I first moved here had mold. It was bad. We can buy another home if you want? Have you pick it out?" He suggests, "I know a lot of shit has happened in that house."

“Why don’t we figure that out after our honeymoon?” You are thrilled that he is so open to making you comfortable but his past doesn’t bother you. “I don’t mind you having a history, Dee. I know all of it, hell, I witnessed most of it.” You snort. “It’s in the past. That’s the important thing.”

Dieter nods, bringing your hand up to kiss the back of it and he loves your scent, breathing you in. It's unfiltered and he realizes that Polly didn't smell this good, it was impossible. He drives back to his house, pulling up on the drive in no time and he cuts the engine after putting the car in park. "Your abode, Mrs. Bravo." He declares after he opens your door.

“Mrs. Bravo.” You hum as he helps you out of the car. “I think I like the sound of that.” You admit, looking down at your bare feet again and laughing. “I can’t believe that I married one of the most famous men with no shoes on.”

Dieter chuckles, "I like it. Didn't I tell you about my foot fetish?" He jokes, taking your hand to guide you into the house. You've been in here a million times but it feels different right now. The reality of finding the person he is meant to be with settles on his chest and he inhales deeply. The door is locked behind him and he steps closer, tenderly cupping your cheeks. "My beautiful omega." He murmurs, leaning in to press his lips to yours.

“Alpha.” You murmur softly against his mouth, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and bringing him closer. Now you get to experience what so many others have giggled and gossiped about. But it’s more than that. It’s mating with your Alpha. “I want-“ you push away slightly so you can think. “I want to suck your cock.” You admit breathlessly. “I’ve always wanted to see what it’s like.”

He groans, having imagined it himself if he’s being honest. High and jerking off while thinking about your mouth wrapped around his cock. “Fuck baby. I want to taste you. Want to claim you as mine for the whole fucking world to see.” He admits, kissing along your jaw. “I’m yours. You want my cock? It’s yours.” He promises against your skin.

You tilt your head. Moaning softly when he nips your skin. “I want to be in your bed.” You tell him. “Our bed, where I’ll make a nest.” You have been feeling the need to make a nest, but without your alpha, there wasn’t a point. You’ve never liked being in one by yourself.

He groans, sliding his hands down to squeeze your ass through your pretty dress. “Our bed.” He murmurs, sliding his hands lower to grab your thighs. He lifts you up into his arms and groans when you wrap your legs around his waist and his hard cock presses against your core. “Want you in our bed.” He groans, carrying you through the house to his bedroom.

You love the show of strength. Despite whining about working out for roles and how it doesn’t fit into his life, Dieter is surprisingly strong. Which, it shouldn’t surprise you, honestly. He’s carried plenty of women around during scenes. You kiss along his smooth jaw, surprised he shaved. “Do you like your facial hair like this?” You ask as you kiss, inhaling his own intoxicating scent.

“Fuck no.” He admits, “Polly wanted me to shave it. I hate it. Makes my wrinkles show more.” He confesses as he lays you down on the bed, hovering over you and he shrugs off the suit jacket.

“I like your wrinkles.” You admit shamelessly. “You’ve gotten hotter as you’ve gotten older. Aging like a fine wine.” You tease, biting your lip. “My own Harrison Ford. You can’t deny he has been handsome right through until old age.”

Dieter snorts, “I’ll take your word for it, baby.” He reaches for the hem of your dress. “Do you want to get naked and get your nest ready?” He asks, wanting you to be comfortable this first time.

“Of course.” You don’t have any issue getting naked with him, he’s your alpha. Any insecurities you might have had with anyone else seemingly melts away in the face of this being your biological mate. You pull the dress off of you and reach for your strapless bra, ready to reveal yourself to him.

Dieter sits back, watching you strip off, and his cock is throbbing in his tight pants. He reaches for to unbutton them to release some pressure but his dark eyes are hungry as they take you in. “Fuck, omega, you’re so gorgeous.” He murmurs, “so fucking gorgeous.”

You’ve heard those words before, but they are more potent coming from the alpha who is yours. Making you whine in pleasure as you lift your hips to peel your panties down your thighs. “You’re gorgeous, alpha.” You tell him. “I want to see you. All of you.” It’s not like you’ve never seen Dieter naked. You couldn’t possibly be this man’s assistant for so many years without catching sight of him one or fifty times. This time is different, this time he’s stripping off for you. “Please.”

He nods, shifting off of the bed to take off the restrictive bow tie and he tosses it to the floor before he starts to unbutton his shirt. His eyes take in the sight of your body as he shrugs off his shirt, kicking off his shoes, and he shoves his pants down, hooking his fingers in his boxers to push them down too. “Fuck. Nothing compares to this.” He declares even though nothing has happened yet. It just feels right. He covers your body with his and presses his lips to yours.

You shudder in pleasure, your hands immediately starting to map his body as they roam over his hot skin. The arousal and need pouring off him and mixed with his scent. “Fuck.” You whine, closing your eyes as he kisses down your throat and presses his tongue to your scent gland. “Never felt like this.” You gasp out.

He groans, scraping his teeth over your pulse, “never.” Dieter murmurs, kissing down your clavicle until he is sliding his tongue along the swell of your breast. He cups your breast, lifting it so he can take your nipple into his mouth. His other hand squeezing your other breast.

“Dee!” You arch your back into his touch, thighs shifting apart to let him settle between them. Rubbing your foot up and down his leg as you grind against the hard cock pressing into your skin. “Yes baby, fuck, you- you’re a tit man, aren’t you?”

“I’m an everything man when it comes to my omega.” He murmurs against your skin, switching to your other breast. His hand slides down to squeeze your thigh, lifting it so he can press his cock against your folds. You’re not ready for him yet but the wetness that coats his skin makes him groan into your flesh.

You’ve seen Dieter beg for sex, to be completely debauched and utterly whiny for attention. This man right now is completely in charge. Overwhelming your senses on a mission to touch and learn every part of you. He’s steady and sure in a way that makes you even wetter as he suckles at your breasts and squeezes your flesh. Making you squirm for more underneath him. “Deeee.”

He sucks and bites until your nipples are puffy and stiff and he continues his exploration of your body, kissing down your stomach. His heart hammers in his chest when he gets to your belly, knowing that one day, you’ll be carrying his child. He pushes your legs further apart and gets his first look at your pussy. “Fuck.” He hisses, leaning in to press his nose to your folds, breathing in your heady scent. “How the fuck have I lived without this?” He grumbles and slides his tongue through your folds, groaning at your tangy taste.

You whine his name loudly, your entire body trembling at the first touch of his tongue. You know that Dieter is talented, you’ve heard the rumors. He’s a dick and sometimes selfish, but he makes up for it with his skills. Closing your eyes, you let him do whatever he wants to your body.

He squeezes your thighs, lifting one onto his shoulder so he can push his tongue into your pussy, groaning when you reach down to tangle your fingers in his hair. He loves the way you tug on it and he presses his nose to your clit, wanting to hear you moan his name again.

“Grow it out again.” You beg, tugging on his hair again when he gives you such beautiful sounds. You love his hair a little longer and it’s going to be your favorite thing to tangle your fingers in when you are knotted together with him. “Oh fuck, Dee.” You moan. “I can’t believe you are eating my pussy. I’ve thought about this so much.” You confess breathlessly. “I want to suck your cock too. Feel you at the back of my throat.”

His cock presses against the mattress, leaking pre-cum from the thought of you sucking his cock. He pulls back for a second, his chin shiny with your slick, and his fingers slide inside of your tight pussy. “I’ll grow it out again.” He promises, “and you can have whatever you want, omega. Whatever you fucking want.” He promises then leans down to wrap his lips around your clit.

Your wail of pleasure is loud, unrestrained. Free to be however you want with Dieter, you know he loves the praise and you give it to him so willingly. His thick fingers feel so good, stretching out your walls and you know his knot will feel even better when he’s finally inside you. “Oh fuck, oh fuck Dieter, baby, my alpha.”

He loves hearing you call him Alpha. A designation that not many believed he had. Apparently he gives off “omega” energy because he’s whiny but that’s not accurate. He might be demanding but his mother always raised him to be spoiled, giving him whatever he wanted. He never had to command anyone to give him anything. He groans and curls his fingers, loving the praise, and he sucks harder on your clit, wanting more.

On and on, the moans and praises pour out of your mouth as he works you up. Feeling high off the endorphins, you wonder if this is what Dieter is chasing with his pills. Your body pulls taunt, a clear warning that you are about to cum. Making him growl into your folds and press his fingers against that spot inside you that makes you instantly break. “Dieter!” You cry out, thighs shaking around his head as you unravel.

He works you through it, reveling in the first orgasm he’s given his omega. He pumps his fingers until you’re pushing on his head so he presses kisses to your thighs, waiting until you relax around his digits. “So fucking beautiful, omega.” He murmurs, withdrawing his fingers and he wraps them around his cock as he shifts to his knees between your legs, needing to release some pressure.

His chin is slick with your juices and you love the way his short curls stick up in all directions. The smell of need and desire is thick between you and he has never smelled more delicious. “Knot me.” You beg, spreading your thighs wider. “Alpha…I need your knot inside me. I want you to mark me. Mate me so the rest of the world knows I’m yours.”

Dieter nods, his heart pounding in his chest and his aching at the thought of finally getting to have you like this. He shifts to hover over you, bracing himself on one arm as he guides his cock to your dripping entrance, positioning himself there, he starts to slowly push inside of you. His eyes fixed on yours, he inhales sharply at how you feel squeezing his cock.

Eyes blowing wide, you feel everything. Every ridge of his cock scraps against your sensitive walls, your entire body leaping in delight that your Alpha has slipped inside you. Making you moan loudly as he pushes in inch by inch. “Alpha….Dieter….oh fuck, it’s so good. I’ve never felt like this before.” You’ve had sex, alphas and betas alike but it’s never been this good before.

Dieter can’t even speak. His heart feels like it’s about to pound out of his chest and he can’t believe he has you like this. His omega, his mate, beneath him and taking his cock. It’s more than he could’ve ever asked for. He chokes and leans down to press his lips to yours, his cock twitching inside of you.

When he kisses you, it’s like you’ve become ravenous. Kissing him back passionately and feeling like you can’t get enough of him. Wrapping your legs around his waist and grinding up to make him push even deeper inside you. His cock hits your cervix and it’s the most pleasurable sharp stab you’ve ever experienced. Almost painful, but so incredible at the same time, making you gasp into his mouth around his tongue.

He pants into your mouth, the kiss is sloppy but unbelievably sexy to him. He slides his tongue against yours, his hand squeezing your thigh as you cling to him. His other hand finds yours, the ring that proclaims you as his on your finger and soon, you’ll bear his mark on your neck. He rocks into you as slow as he can manage but it’s hard when he’s so overwhelmed.

“Fuck.” You pant, every thrust filling you so completely that tears prick your eyes and you are blown away by the emotions that rocket through you. “I love you.” You whimper, tilting your head and exposing your scent gland to his teeth. Submitting to him completely.

He feels the alpha part of himself take over, a growl escaping his lips as he leans closer to scrap his teeth along your scent gland. This is something he never felt the need to do with Polly, figured it was something he’d feel when they were married but right now, he doesn’t care about the ring on your finger, he only cares about primally making you his. “I love you.” He declares and sinks his teeth in, claiming you as his omega forever.

You cry out, fingers digging into his shoulders as the pain rushes through you, along with the heat of being claimed. You had heard it is a moment that completely possess you, but you hadn’t believed it. Now that it’s happening, all you can think about is Dieter, your alpha, and his claim on you. His teeth buried in your gland, you start to cum around his cock.

He groans against your flesh, “you’re fucking incredible.” He says as he laps at your new bite and he loves the way you grip his cock inside of you. He can feel his knot swelling now and it’s harder to thrust into you but he presses his lips to yours.

Your nails dig into his back, whining when you feel the pressure of his knot start to fill you. “Oh god, fuck, please.” You beg. “Knot me. Fuck I want it, I want it so badly, baby. Please alpha, I want to take it.” Your hips rock up, eager to take the thick knot inside you, locking you together while he floods your womb with his seed. “Fuck, Dee!”

His grunts fill the bedroom, sweat beading on his brow and he roars when he cums, his knot locking in place inside of you while he paints your walls with hot seed. “Fuckkk.” He roars, eyes squeezed shut as the most intense orgasm he’s ever experienced hits him hard.

He shudders and shakes above you, looking amazing as he fills you with a flood of warm cum. Making you moan again, biting your lip at the sensation and you clench down around the thick knot that is firmly embedded inside you. The final proof that you are an omega, his omega. You knew it all along, that he hadn’t knotted her, but there’s a sweet relief in proving to him that it was because Polly wasn’t an omega and not because there was something wrong with him. “Dee, fuck, that’s-“ you pant softly, smiling at the sensation.

He’s relieved he knotted you. He was worried that he’d taken too many drugs and he couldn’t knot anyone. He pants, leaning in to kiss along your jaw, “I love you, baby. Mine. My omega.” He coos, wanting to comfort you in this moment.

“Fuck.” You whimper and smile as he kisses your skin. “My alpha. You’re so good. Did you like it?” You ask, stroking his back lovingly while he settles into your embrace.

He sighs, shifting onto his back, mindful of your connection, so you can lay on his chest. His hand slides along your spine, a smile on his face. “I loved it. I loved you. Never ever felt like that before.” He confesses, “I’m so fucking happy to came to me before I married that psycho. My brave omega.” He murmurs, kissing your forehead.

“I couldn’t let you do it without knowing the truth.” You murmur softly. “If you didn’t believe me, rejected me, I could live with that. As long as you knew what you were doing. She was taking that chance away.” Your fingers trace a tattoo and you sigh softly. “But I’m happy you believed me.”

He hums, “me too. I know I haven’t been the best boss in the past but I promise you that I will be the best Alpha. I wanted to settle down and I wanted to find my mate. I found her and I want to be the best husband I can be.” He reveals, “I love you. So much.” He murmurs, “I just didn’t realize how much until today.”

“You’re a good man.” You remind him softly, just like you have many times before when he’s been wallowing in self pity. “You will be an amazing alpha, I know it.”

****

“So you have been married to your beautiful wife for ten years. The whole world watched as you exposed Polly who we hear is now married to another beta. Yet, you still got your happy ending with your omega.” The interviewer says and Dieter nods, offering the interviewer a smile, “she’s incredible. My rock. I couldn’t have won my Oscars without her.” Dieter confesses with affection. 

“Knock knock.” You knock on the door to the family room where Dieter is being interviewed. “I’m sorry to interrupt. The kids wanted to see their daddy.” You confess and your three children rush over to Dieter. Aged three, six, and nine. 

“Daddy! Guess what?” His eldest son clambers over Dieter and he gestures for you to come and sit down. 

“What, my love?” He asks his son while his six year old daughter wraps her arms around his neck. Your three year old son struggles to get onto the sofa so you pick him up while your eldest tells Dieter about his dinosaur project at school. 

“The perfect family.” The interviewer coos and Dieter nods, leaning over to kiss your lips. 

“We aren’t perfect but it’s my family and to me, they are perfect.” Dieter declares on camera. The interview is aired a week later during prime time and Polly watches while she sits beside her husband who tricked her into believing he was a rich man but it’s his mom who had money. She scoffs, turning the TV off while her husband snores, head tilted back against the sofa. She got her karma and you got your alpha, much to Dieter’s delight. He wanted to find his omega and he did, he just didn’t realize she had been in front of him the entire time.

[wannab-urs]

Dieter Bravo imagine

I had a thot and I had to share... go easy on me, I haven't written much at all lately.

Summary: Dieter Bravo laying his head in your lap all sweetly while you watch a movie and it takes a turn.

Warnings: smut :)

Wc: 255

Dieter is laying his head on your lap and you’re playing with his hair, running your fingers through his curls. He looks so soft and sweet like this. Your heart swells with affection for him as he pushes his head into your hands like a cat.

He’s facing you. He inhales deeply through his nose and buries his face in the crotch of your leggings, nuzzling your core. You protest but he just nuzzles harder before licking you over your clothes. He lifts up, maneuvering you sideways so that you’re laying on the couch. 

“Dieter, I’m trying to watch the movie.” 

“We’ll start it over later. Need you.” 

He strips off your leggings and panties in one go. Then he eats you out for a while, taking his time. He's sucking on your clit, kissing your thighs, burying his tongue inside you – it’s kind of sloppy but god it feels so good.

He pushes down his sweats, letting his cock spring free without ever detaching his lips from your cunt. Gathering his spit and your release on his fingers, he jerks off while he eats you out. His nose is pressed against your clit and his tongue plunges in and out of you. You come on his face, riding his nose hard.

When you finish, he sits up on his knees and comes all over your cunt. He kisses you deeply, you taste yourself on his tongue.

He cleans you up gently and settles back into your lap as you start the movie over again.

[tightjeansjavi]

chamomile

A/N: I was making myself a cup of tea earlier this evening and the idea blossomed from there 🥺

for @morallyinept Valentine’s Day masterlist 💗

~word count: 1.3k~

Summary: it’s Valentine’s Day and Dieter Bravo is alone and missing you

Pairing | Dieter Bravo x f!reader

Warnings: mature, fluff, angst, language,implicit smut, one mention of dieter giving himself a handjob, mentions of alcohol and ouid, fwb’s, pining, assumed one-sided feelings, two idiots in love without realizing it, typical dieter behavior, reader has no physical descriptions, readers nickname is petal, +18 minors dni!

On the long, lonely nights where Dieter Bravo is away from you, his solace, his person, he always finds himself struggling to sleep. An hour here, and an hour there, but it can never compare to the deep, dreamy, snooze he gets when you’re laying next to him, tangled up in his legs, under his sheets.

He knows deep down he’s got it bad for you. So bad, he can hardly think straight on most days. Dieter, you missed your cue, again.

He groans, pinching the bridge of his nose and shakes his shoulders to relieve any pent up stress he’s feeling and to get back on track.

Did you even read the fucking script, Bravo?

He scoffs, jaw ticking under the harsh studio lights that buzz in his ear like a swarm of angry bees. Course I did. He lies through his teeth.

How could he even think about reading his lines when he spent hours of his night staring down his phone as he deeply contemplated the pros and cons of calling you up.

If I tell her how I feel, it makes everything fucking weird.

Or you get to live out your very own rom-com!

Or she never wants to speak to me again

Or she also confesses her deep, profound love for you.

Or..she doesn’t feel the same way and breaks my fucking heart into a million tiny pieces!

Or your dreams come true, Dieter.

-

You met Dieter Bravo through a friend of a friend at one of the movie star’s infamous parties. Dieter was drunk, a bit of a stumbling mess, but when his warm, and slightly clammy palm wrapped around your own, you knew you were donefore. And how was it possible for a scruffy man such as himself to have the kindest, softest, warmest brown eyes you ever had the pleasure of gazing into?

No, you were not in love with Dieter Bravo. He was just your friend..with the occasional benefits. Nothing more, nothing less.

When Dieter finds himself alone in his too big of a house for another night, he packs a bowl, and then another, and another. He takes a relaxing bath, alone with nothing but the comfort of his own fist wrapped around his cock. His lashes flutter shut, plush lips parting as he sinks further into the chamomile scented bubbles.

You told him once that chamomile should help him sleep better. He sent his assistant out the next day to buy chamomile tea, and literally any and all the chamomile scented products that she could find.

You took a bath together once, and he vividly remembers dragging his nose across the base of your neck, inhaling the sweet aroma while you nearly dozed off in his saccharine grip. Muscles relaxed, limbs pliant under the soapy water.

But you weren’t here. You were thousands of miles away on a girls trip with some of your single friends. It was the trip that finally made it out of the group chat, and it happened to fall on the week of Valentine’s Day.

Wait, that’s today, right? Shit. How pathetic. He thinks to himself, stroking his cock faster, creating ripples in the sudsy water.

Yeah, so fucking pathetic. Alone on fucking Valentine’s Day, and higher than a goddamn kite.

He doesn’t come, and while that in itself should be frustrating, he accepts his fate of misery while the temperature of the water becomes too cold to bear and he’s forced to retreat.

He packs another bowl, yanks his leftover Taco Bell from the fridge and eats it cold, like the feeling of his heart.

His king sized bed feels even larger than usual, and he chuffs a laugh, taking another bite of his half eaten crunch wrap supreme.

That’s because I’m fucking alone on Valentine’s Day.

He knows he’s not really alone. But on a day that is all about love, he sure as hell doesn’t feel the love.

He misses the way you would roll over mid sleep and drape your arm across his bare stomach. Your fingers would play with the dark, soft hair that led down to his happy trail while you drooled into the crook of his neck, soft snores escaping past your parted lips. He found it endearing. You were like a koala, and he was the tree branch of your choosing.

He so badly wanted to be your tree branch right now.

Was that lame? Probably. But Dieter could give less of a shit about any of that. He missed you, and the feeling ate away at him, carving a hole in his chest and yanking his heart right out.

He didn’t mind that you would accidentally kick him off the side of the bed, or steal all the covers. He loved it when you would talk in your sleep, babbling about pure nonsense that somehow to his ears made perfect sense.

Okay, so he missed you…a lot. He wasn’t the only person to miss someone this much. Hell, maybe even his neighbor was going through the same feelings and emotions as he was.

Love. Yeah, that’s what he was feeling. He was in love with you, and you had no fucking idea how he truly felt.

He tossed and turned, fluffed down his pillows, scrolled on his phone, watching his favorite saved tik toks, and he even tried listening to the soothing sounds of a thunderstorm through a podcast on Spotify. None of it was working. He couldn’t sleep, and you were to blame.

That’s how Dieter Bravo found himself in his kitchen, fully exposed sans some fluffy slippers on his feet that had seen better days. He dug through his pantry till he found the familiar box of chamomile tea. He let out a sigh of relief and tore open the silver foil with his teeth.

His phone screen read 2:30a.m as the kettle on the stove whistled loudly in his eardrums.

The familiar scent of chamomile coated his senses in a warmth that could only be described as you as he let the tea bag steep in his favorite chipped mug.

His knuckles drummed along the countertop nervously as he stared down his phone once more. He let out a huff, bringing one hand to scratch at the patches in his scraggly beard.

As steam billowed from the mug next to him, he finally picked up his phone and dialed your number.

He chewed on the tip of his thumbnail, eyes dancing nervously as the dial tone rang, and rang. He was ready to hang up and toss his phone in the garbage disposal when you finally answered.

His heart skipped a beat and his weed-hazed mind couldn’t keep up with the rate that words were flowing past his lips.

“Petal? Hey, happy Valentine’s Day. Well—er, happy belated Valentine’s Day? ‘Suppose it’s already over. Uh—hope I’m not bothering you, I just couldn’t sleep, so I’m in my kitchen having a cup of chamomile tea, like you suggested. Fuck, I’m rambling, aren’t I? I smoked a few too many bowls so my brain is a bit scrambled. Anyway, I miss you, baby. I’m so lonely, and I wish you were here.”

His stoned rambling continued on as you listened silently, holding your phone close to your ear and swatting at your friend's arm when they asked who was on the phone. The club music was booming at the same rate that your heart was pounding in your chest.

“Hi, Dee. I miss you too. I've been thinking...when I get back, can we grab dinner sometime?" You warmly suggest.

His pupils are blown wide like two shiny marbles illuminated under the soft glow of the moonlight trickling in through his tall kitchen windows.

“Fuck yes. I’d fucking love to grab dinner with you sometime, Petal.” He rasps softly through the receiver.

banners made by the lovely @saradika 💗

I no longer have a taglist so please follow @tightjeansjaviupdates for fic notifications and updates!

[drewharrisonwriter]

Friends Without Benefits

Status: One Shot, Complete

Summary: Even if you don't believe it, Dieter Bravo is actually capable of having platonic friendships.

Word Count: 10.5k words

Warnings: strong language, heavy flirtation, sexual tension (no smut--can you believe it??), mentions of past affairs and scandals, alcohol consumption, references to Dieter’s reckless behavior, mentions of drug use, emotional vulnerability, humor, inappropriate jokes (because, Dieter!), legal contract about not fucking

A/N: Okay, I know what you're thinking… another Dieter fic? Yeah, I know—it’s like my fourth one, so clearly, the brain rot is real, and I’m trying to get it out of my system (seriously, I’m trying… sort of). I know I haven’t updated Lifeline in a hot minute, but we’ll get to that later, lol. This fic is a little different from the usual—there’s a lot more fluff and friendship stuff, but I really enjoyed playing with the dynamic of two people who could totally cross the line but decide not to (because, honestly, it’s working for them as is). Also, apologies for any typos—I tried proofreading, but doing it on my phone isn’t exactly ideal. Thanks for reading, and let me know what you think!

P.S. My laptop, which served me well for 5 years, just gave out. With grad school, the recent loss of my stepdad, and ongoing medical bills, finances are tight. I’m currently managing writing commissions and my dissertation from my phone, which is okay but really challenging. If you can help with a donation or by commissioning some of my writing, or just by simply commenting or reblogging, it would mean the world to me. 💜 Thank you from the bottom of my heart for any support you can offer. 💜🙏🏻

Read this on AO3 | Check out my Masterlist

It started with a rejection email.

Not the kind that offered hope for future opportunities, but the type that crushed your spirit in one curt sentence:

"We regret to inform you that your application for the Screenwriting Development Program has not been accepted."

She read it over twice, then a third time, hoping something had been missed. A reason, some constructive feedback, anything. But it was just a copy-paste response sent to dozens—maybe hundreds—of other hopefuls like her. She blinked away the sting in her eyes and put the laptop to sleep.

The screen faded to black, reflecting back an image she barely recognized anymore: tangled hair, circles under her eyes, and the lingering trace of a smile she hadn’t used in days.

“Whatever,” she muttered to herself. “I didn’t need it anyway.”

That was a lie.

The Screenwriting Development Program was her shot, her dream, the chance to step out of her day-to-day grind and into the world she’d always wanted. A world where she wrote stories that people would actually care to hear.

But she didn’t have time to dwell on it. In fifteen minutes, she had to be at the diner. She grabbed her apron off the back of a chair and stuffed it into her bag before heading out.

As usual, the shift was long. And slow. She spent most of her time refilling coffee for the regulars and plastering on a smile that barely reached her eyes. The rejection lingered like a dark cloud, reminding her how close she was to giving up completely. By the time her shift ended, she was so exhausted that she didn’t even change out of her uniform. She just grabbed her bag and headed out into the night.

The long walk up to her apartment felt heavier than usual. It wasn’t until she reached her front door that the next wave of despair hit her like a punch to the gut.

An eviction notice.

She stared at the paper taped to her door, her heart sinking.

“Great,” she whispered bitterly, ripping it off and crumpling it into a ball before shoving it into her bag.

Four weeks. She had four weeks to come up with the rent, or she’d be out on the street.

Later, she sat on her couch in her underwear and a camisole, trying to ignore the cold chill of the eviction notice that still hovered at the edge of her mind. The TV buzzed in the background, Dieter Bravo’s voice filling the small apartment with a familiar rasp. A half-eaten carton of ice cream sat beside her, its contents softening to a puddle as she mindlessly scooped the melting mess.

Hunger Strike was playing again. She’d lost count of how many times she’d watched it by now. Dieter’s performance was the kind that stuck with you, the kind that won awards. It wasn’t just a movie anymore; it was the movie that had put him on the map—had made him a star and earned him that Oscar. She didn’t care if everyone else had moved on to the next blockbuster; for her, Hunger Strike was it. Every look in his eyes, every rasp of desperation in his voice felt real, almost too real. It was like he wasn’t acting at all.

"We don’t need them. They need us!" His character was yelling now, his voice hoarse, raw with intensity. She could practically feel his pain, his determination radiating through the screen.

She wiped at her eyes, even though she wasn’t sure why. Maybe it was everything—her life, the rejection, the eviction notice looming like a ticking time bomb. Or maybe it was just Dieter. Watching him made her feel seen, like somehow, through all the chaos, someone else understood what it was like to be on the edge.

The credits rolled on Hunger Strike, but instead of turning off the TV, she did what any fan would—she went down the rabbit hole. The screen filled with suggested videos, interviews, and, of course, the latest tabloid scandals. Dieter Bravo was all over the place lately. She had seen the headlines—everyone had. It was impossible to ignore him, even if you tried.

She grabbed her phone and scrolled through Twitter, where his name was trending yet again.

"Dieter Bravo's Latest Scandal: Sex Tape with Male Assistant Exposed!"

"Gender Identity Crisis or Another Stunt? Dieter Bravo Caught in Love Triangle with Married PA!"

"Oscar-Winning Actor, Homewrecker? Dieter Bravo Linked to Personal Assistant's Broken Marriage!"

She exhaled sharply, half-amused, half in disbelief. Every few months, it seemed, something like this would pop up—another scandal, another explosion in the media circus surrounding him. But this one? A sex tape? With his male personal assistant, who was married to a woman?

It was outrageous. It was chaotic. It was exactly what you'd expect from Dieter Bravo.

How does one even make this shit up? she thought, as she tapped one of the articles. The details were just as wild as the headlines. Apparently, the PA was a guy named James, and he’d been with Dieter for years—right up until last week, when everything blew up.

An article excerpt says: "Sources say that the sex tape in question was filmed during a drug-fueled party at Dieter’s mansion. It shows intimate moments between the actor and his assistant, James, who is reportedly married to a woman. James has since left Dieter’s employment amid the scandal, and insiders claim the actor is ‘unapologetic’ about the affair. This is just the latest in a long string of public meltdowns for the once-revered actor. Dieter Bravo’s chaotic lifestyle has led many to question his mental stability and even his gender identity, as he continues to defy traditional labels."

She snorted, shaking her head. “Unapologetic? That sounds about right.”

It wasn’t that she supported his reckless behavior, but there was something about Dieter that always seemed to push boundaries in every direction. He lived like a car crash happening in slow motion, and yet, people couldn’t look away. The scandals, the chaos—they were just part of his public persona. But there was more to him than that.

She clicked on an older interview from the Cliff Beasts 6 press tour. That was the movie where everything started to unravel for him. The film was supposed to be a big comeback, but instead, it had exposed the man behind the Oscar-winning actor—drugs, sex, alcohol, and a level of unpredictability that no one in Hollywood could quite handle.

Interviewer: “Dieter, after your incredible performance in Hunger Strike, people expected another award-winning role in Cliff Beasts 6, but... that’s not what happened. Can you talk about what went wrong?”

Dieter Bravo (slouching, visibly tired): “Cliff Beasts 6... yeah, man, that was a mess. But, like, it was supposed to be a mess, wasn’t it? I mean, we were trapped in that goddamn bubble for months longer than planned, and by the end, it wasn’t even a movie anymore. It was survival.” He laughed, a rough, bitter sound. “I overdosed on camera, for fuck’s sake. People thought it was part of the documentary. Maybe it should’ve been.”

Interviewer: “So, the extended shoot during the pandemic—did that affect the film’s outcome?”

Dieter (rubbing his temples, shaking his head): “Affect it? It was the outcome. By the time we got to month six, no one gave a shit about the movie anymore. It was just about getting out of there alive. People wanted me to deliver some award-winning performance? Dude, I was barely holding it together. I mean, look at the film—Cliff Beasts was never about art. By the sixth one, it was just... noise. Star-studded, CGI-filled noise. People expected something big, but I gave them a disaster. Maybe that’s what it needed to be.”

Interviewer: “The overdose incident—was that something planned for the documentary, or did things just... get out of control?”

Dieter Bravo (smirking, then shrugging): “Planned? Nah, man, nothing was planned by then. I mean, the cameras were always rolling, right? So when I went down... they just kept filming. Thought it’d make for good behind-the-scenes footage or something. But that’s Hollywood for you.” He paused, letting the weight of it sink in before adding, “People don’t care if you’re falling apart. They just want to know if it’ll sell.”

Interviewer: “That’s pretty heavy. Do you think Cliff Beasts 6 was the start of your... well, decline? It’s no secret you’ve had a rough few years since.”

Dieter Bravo (lighting a cigarette, ignoring the studio's no-smoking policy): “Decline? Maybe. I dunno. I think people were already looking for a reason to tear me apart. Cliff Beasts just made it easier. It wasn’t the overdose that got people talking, it was the fact that it happened while I was making a movie no one cared about anymore. The sixth installment, man. By that point, the franchise was running on fumes, and so was I. But people love a good downfall, right? They see someone on top, and they wait for you to crash. They’ll stick a camera in your face and call it a documentary when really, it’s just a freak show.”

She paused the video, the cigarette smoke still curling from Dieter’s lips frozen on the screen. The words hung in the air, heavy and raw. It was no wonder the media loved to tear him apart; they were practically fed the narrative on a silver platter. His whole life had become the entertainment industry’s favorite sideshow.

She stared at the screen for a few more moments, Dieter’s face frozen in that half-smirk, half-exhausted expression. He was unraveling, and everyone was watching. Cliff Beasts 6 might have been the breaking point, but it wasn’t the cause. No, Dieter had been falling apart long before that.

In a different world, she imagined, she and Dieter could be friends. He’d probably laugh at the mess she just made, tell her not to sweat it. In another life, maybe they’d meet over coffee or work on some crazy indie project together. They’d both be swimming in their own chaos, but maybe that’s what would make their friendship work.

She wasn’t delusional; she knew Dieter Bravo was a celebrity—someone she would probably never meet, never know beyond the screen. But sometimes, when he said things like that, it felt like he was speaking directly to her. Like maybe, in some other life, they’d get along. They’d get each other.

Her eyes drifted down to the eviction notice sitting on the coffee table. Four weeks, it said. Four weeks to come up with the rent, or she’d be out on the street. It was hard to feel hopeful when every option felt like a dead end. And yet, watching Dieter talk about his own collapse, she didn’t feel so alone.

Her phone buzzed on the cushion beside her.

She ignored it at first, assuming it was just another bill reminder. But when she glanced at the screen, her breath caught.

Studio Callback - Screenwriting Internship.

Her heart stopped. A callback? After all this time?

Without thinking, she sat up too fast, the ice cream carton tipping over the edge of the couch and spilling melted chocolate onto the floor. “Shit!” she cursed, grabbing a towel and wiping at the sticky mess with quick, frustrated swipes.

It felt surreal. She had applied for that screenwriting internship months ago and had long since written it off as a missed opportunity. But here it was—another chance.

She stood there, towel in one hand, her phone in the other, staring at the message like it might disappear if she blinked. Four weeks until eviction, a job that barely covered her bills, and now, out of nowhere, this lifeline.

Her eyes flicked back to the TV, where Dieter’s face still stared back at her.

She picked up her phone and, without hesitating, replied to the message. Yes. I’ll be there.

–

The next day…

The waiting room buzzed with the same dreary energy it had since she’d arrived nearly an hour ago. Grey walls, uncomfortable chairs, and that humming fluorescent light that seemed to buzz directly into her brain. She sat on the edge of her seat, fingers tracing the spine of her portfolio, glancing at the door every time it swung open.

But this time, it wasn’t her turn.

It was him.

Dieter Bravo stormed into the room like a hurricane, sunglasses still perched on his face even though the room was dim, his hair a chaotic mess, like he’d just rolled out of bed—or maybe stumbled out of a party. His team trailed behind him, all looking frazzled and overworked. He barely acknowledged them as he flopped into a chair across from her with a sigh that seemed to carry the weight of the world.

“Well, this is bullshit,” he muttered, crossing his arms. “I’m a goddamn Oscar winner, and they’ve got me sitting in this dump of a waiting room like I’m some extra on a low-budget indie film.”

She bit her lip, trying to hide her amusement. She knew who Dieter Bravo was the second he’d walked in—who didn’t? His face had been plastered on every tabloid for weeks. But there was something surreal about seeing him up close, in the flesh, like he’d been plucked straight from her TV screen. Don’t freak out, she told herself. He’s just a person.

Still, the excitement bubbled up inside her, and for a moment, she just stared at him, feeling the shock wear off.

He caught her staring. “What? You think this is funny?”

She blinked, pulling herself together, giving him a deadpan look. “I think you’re acting like someone who’s forgotten what a waiting room is.”

Dieter raised an eyebrow, his mouth twitching like he wasn’t sure whether to be offended or intrigued. “And you are?”

She shrugged. “Someone who’s been sitting here for an hour. Pretty sure I’m about to merge with this chair if they don’t call me soon.”

Dieter snorted, sitting up a little straighter, like he wasn’t used to people talking to him like that. Not outside his circle, at least. “An hour, huh? That’s it? Try six months trapped in a COVID bubble filming Cliff Beasts 6. That’s real torture.”

She laughed softly. “Yeah, I saw that movie. Pretty sure it was a crime against humanity.”

He cracked a grin. “Hey, that movie’s still paying my rent.”

“Is it? Seems like you should be able to afford better waiting rooms, then.”

Dieter leaned back in his chair, adjusting his sunglasses even though they weren’t needed. “Touché.”

There was a pause, a silence between them that felt more comfortable than awkward. They were sizing each other up, like two kids sitting next to each other on a school bus, deciding if they wanted to be friends.

“So,” Dieter said, shifting his gaze toward her again. “What are you here for? You in trouble, too?”

She smirked. “I’m always in trouble.”

He raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Yeah, well, me too.” He ran a hand through his messy hair, looking around the room as if just noticing how drab it was. “You work here or something?”

She shrugged. “Depends if they think I’m good enough to work here.”

“Good enough for what?”

“I’m a writer,” she said, half-smiling, but there was a vulnerability in her voice. “Or at least I’m trying to be.”

Dieter’s eyes lit up with genuine curiosity, which caught her off guard. “A writer, huh? You got anything out there I’ve seen?”

She snorted, shaking her head. “Only if you read stuff on Medium and Tumblr.”

Dieter laughed, the sound deep and unexpected, like he wasn’t used to laughing like that. “Tumblr, huh? So you’re a real writer.” He gave her a playful look. “What do you write? Fanfiction about guys like me?”

She rolled her eyes, but there was a teasing glint in her gaze. “Nope. But if I did, it’d be better than that train wreck you called Cliff Beasts 6.”

Dieter clutched his chest dramatically. “Ouch. Right in the ego.”

She smirked. “Ego as big as yours can take it.”

For a second, he just stared at her, genuinely caught off guard. He wasn’t used to people talking to him like this—like he was normal, not some Oscar-winning disaster wrapped in a scandal. She didn’t seem to care who he was or how many headlines he’d been in. It was refreshing, and he found himself more interested in her than he had been in anyone outside his usual crowd in a long time.

“So what do you do?” she asked casually, keeping the banter going.

Dieter laughed, a full, deep sound that made him look younger than he usually did in the tabloids. “What do I do? I’m a professional disaster. You haven’t heard?”

She chuckled, nodding toward the door. “I think you’re better at it than you are at acting.”

Dieter looked at her for a beat, his mouth twitching into a smirk. “You know, I don’t get a lot of people talking to me like this. Most people, they want to kiss ass or they just want something from me.”

She shrugged, her eyes flicking up to meet his. “What can I say? I’m not most people.”

He leaned forward, intrigued. “You like books?”

She raised an eyebrow. “What kind of books?”

“The kind that make people uncomfortable.”

Her lips twitched into a smile. “I see you’ve read Camus.”

He grinned. “The Stranger. Ever read it?”

“I did. Twice. Though I’m more of a Kafka fan.” She paused for a beat, her voice deadpan. “I like my existentialism served with a side of why is everything a nightmare and also I’m a bug.”

Dieter laughed again, clearly impressed. “You’re alright, you know that?”

“You’re not so bad yourself,” she said, her tone casual, but inside, she couldn’t quite believe she was having this conversation. With Dieter Bravo. Of all people.

They stared at each other, neither blinking, as if trying to see who’d crack first. But before either could say anything more, the door opened again.

“Mr. Bravo?” A frazzled assistant appeared in the doorway, eyes wide as they motioned for him to come in. “We’re ready for you.”

Dieter groaned dramatically, rolling his eyes as he stood up. “Finally.” He paused, turning to her with a smirk. “Don’t go anywhere, book lover. We’re not done with this conversation.”

She gave him a small smile, though inwardly she rolled her eyes. Yeah, sure. Like you'd remember me in two minutes, she thought. Dieter was famous for being distracted, for forgetting people as soon as he turned a corner. Everyone knew about his ADD—it was practically part of his public persona. He’d probably forget her name before the door even shut behind him.

Inside the meeting room…

Dieter slouched into a chair, his eyes flicking toward the group of studio executives sitting across from him, all with tight-lipped expressions. They weren’t here to chit-chat. They were here to clean up his mess. Again.

“Alright, what’s the damage?” Dieter asked, tapping his fingers on the arm of the chair.

One of the executives, a tall man with silver hair and an expensive-looking suit, sighed heavily. “We’ve already settled with James and his wife. They’ve agreed not to divorce, but we’re paying for damages—and couples therapy.”

Dieter raised an eyebrow. “Couples therapy? Really?”

The man didn’t blink. “Yes, Dieter. Really.”

The room was thick with tension, the kind that only came when the stakes were sky-high. Another executive chimed in. “The headlines are out of control. We need to distance you from this. Fast.”

“What do you want me to do? Apologize? I already said I was sorry.” Dieter’s voice was tired, edged with sarcasm, but underneath, there was a flicker of frustration.

The silver-haired executive leaned forward. “Dieter, this isn’t about a simple apology. You’ve gone beyond that. Your lifestyle—this hedonistic, Roman emperor routine you’ve got going on—it’s not just damaging your reputation. It’s hurting us. The studio. The people you’re supposed to be representing.”

Dieter blinked, caught off guard by the harshness in the man’s tone.

“We’ve invested millions in you,” the executive continued, “and right now, you’re a liability. There’s talk of ending your contract early. Cutting ties before you bring the whole house down.”

Dieter’s jaw tightened. “You’re kidding, right?”

“No,” the man said coldly. “I’m not.”

For a moment, Dieter just sat there, staring at the man, trying to process what he was hearing. They were serious. He was this close to losing everything.

Another voice chimed in—his publicist, trying to smooth things over. “We’re not saying it’s over, Dieter. But we need to fix this. Charities. Positive press. You need to lay low for a while.”

The executive nodded. “No public appearances, no parties. We’re going to find some charity work for you, get the public to see a new side of you. You’re going to disappear for a bit. When you come back, you’ll be better. Clean. Understood?”

Dieter clenched his fists, the frustration boiling beneath the surface. “Yeah, sure. Whatever you need.”

“And we’ll get you a new PA,” his publicist added. “Someone who can keep you grounded. Keep you out of trouble, hopefully, someone you could not fuck.”

Dieter waved them off, already bored with the conversation. His mind drifted back to the waiting room, to the girl sitting across from him, trading quips like they were old friends. At least she’s interesting, he thought.

Back in the waiting room…

She sat there, slumped in her chair, staring blankly at the wall. The interview hadn’t gone well. She hadn’t gotten the job. The casting director had been polite but distant, and she could tell by their expression that they already had someone else in mind. Her stomach twisted with disappointment.

No extra job. No extra paycheck. And no way to make rent by the end of the month.

She stared down at her portfolio, feeling the weight of her failure settle in. She’d have to start packing soon. Maybe call her mom, tell her she was coming home. She could already imagine the conversation.

“We told you so,” her mom would say. “You should’ve gone into nursing. Writing was never going to pay the bills.”

Her stepdad would nod in agreement, disappointed but unsurprised. “Creative writing? Really?” he’d say. “What did you think would happen?”

She swallowed the lump in her throat, trying not to think about it. But the thoughts kept coming, relentless. She’d have to pack up, move back home, admit defeat.

God, I’m such a screw-up.

The door creaked open, and Dieter stepped out, glancing around. His entourage had already disappeared down the hall, leaving him standing alone for once. He spotted her instantly.

“Still here?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

She forced a small smile, shrugging. “Didn’t get the job.”

Dieter nodded, slipping his hands into his pockets. “Yeah, well... my meeting sucked too. They’ve decided I’m officially the next Caligula.”

She snorted. “That bad?”

“Worse,” he said, shaking his head. He stood there for a beat, looking around the room, then back at her. “You know what? Screw this. Let’s go grab a drink.”

She blinked, surprised. “What?”

“I’m serious,” Dieter said, eyes glinting with that familiar mix of mischief and exhaustion. “I need a drink. You’re funny. Let’s go.”

She stared at him, unsure if he was joking or not. But he wasn’t. She could see it in his eyes—he was serious.

“You buying?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

Dieter grinned. “I’m an Oscar winner. Drinks are always on me.”

She hesitated for a moment, then slowly stood up, tucking her portfolio under her arm. “Alright, Bravo. Let’s see if you can keep up.”

He smirked, leading the way. “Baby, you don’t know who you’re talking to.”

–

The black Audi’s engine purred as Dieter navigated the dim streets, his phone vibrating endlessly in the cupholder. Text after text, call after call—all from his team. They were probably losing their minds, wondering where he’d disappeared to. He glanced at the notifications, scoffing, and shoved the phone further out of reach.

“So,” she said, glancing at him from the passenger seat, “do you do this often?”

Dieter smirked, keeping his eyes on the road. “Do what?”

“Pick up random strangers and ask them to grab drinks with you.”

He laughed, the sound low and lazy. “No, I mean, I pick up random strangers... just not usually for drinks.”

She chuckled. “Well, you should probably get better at vetting your strangers. I could be a serial killer, you know.”

Dieter shot her a quick glance, grinning. “Even better. Might actually enjoy being murdered by you.”

She snorted, shaking her head. “You really are a disaster, aren’t you?”

“Disaster, masochist, artist... depends on the day.” He glanced over at her, eyes twinkling with mischief. “You’ve got a hell of a sense of humor, though. I like it.”

“And here I thought you were the sadist for thinking being murdered sounds fun.”

“Nope.” Dieter grinned. “Definitely a masochist. But don’t let that scare you off.”

She smirked, leaning back in her seat. “Too late. I’m terrified now.”

They drove in comfortable silence for a while, the city lights flickering through the tinted windows, casting shadows on Dieter’s face. It felt surreal, sitting in the passenger seat of Dieter Bravo’s car, heading to God-knows-where. But she didn’t feel uneasy. In fact, she felt strangely comfortable. It was weird how easily they’d fallen into this rhythm, like they’d known each other for years.

“So,” she asked, breaking the silence, “where exactly are we getting these drinks?”

Dieter’s smirk grew as he pulled into a parking garage, winding his way up to the fifth floor. “Here.”

“Here?” she echoed, raising an eyebrow.

Dieter parked the car, and without another word, led her to the elevator. When the doors slid open, she was met with the sleek interior of his penthouse. Glass walls, dark furniture, and a view of the city that stretched on forever.

“Oh,” she said, stepping inside, taking it all in. “I thought we were going to a bar or something.”

Dieter chuckled, locking the door behind them. “Yeah, well, I’ve been told not to be seen in public too much for a while. You know... the whole ‘clean up the image’ thing.”

She turned, leaning against the counter, a smirk tugging at her lips. “Right. The scandal.”

He shrugged. “Yeah, that.”

She tilted her head, a playful glint in her eyes. “So, should I be worried now? You could be the serial killer. I didn’t tell anyone where I’m going.”

Dieter grinned, moving toward the bar in the corner of the room. “Well, if I am, at least you’ll die with a good drink in your hand.”

Dieter’s penthouse bar looked like it had been pulled straight out of a high-end hotel. Polished wood, rows of bottles perfectly lined up, and a set of cocktail tools that would make any bartender proud.

He moved behind the bar with a familiar ease, pulling out a few bottles and setting them on the counter. “What’s your poison?”

“Vodka, Negroni... surprise me.”

“You got it.” He started mixing, moving around the bar like he’d done it a thousand times. She followed suit, sliding behind the bar beside him, the space between them feeling natural.

As they worked, they fell into a rhythm, like two old friends who’d done this countless times before. It was easy, the way they passed bottles back and forth, the clink of ice in glasses punctuating their conversation.

“So,” she said, shaking her drink, “you always this smooth with your guests, or am I special?”

Dieter smirked. “You’re special. I don’t let just anyone behind the bar.” He watched her expertly pour out the drink, nodding in approval. “You’ve got skills.”

She chuckled. “I bartend. Well, I used to, now I just work at a diner, but it counts.”

He laughed. “I used to bartend, too. Before all this.” He gestured vaguely to his sprawling penthouse. “I kinda miss it.”

“Miss what? Making drinks for drunk people at 2 a.m.?”

He shook his head, grinning. “No, the simplicity of it. The quiet moments before the rush. And, I guess, the people. You get to talk to all kinds of weirdos.”

She handed him the cocktail she’d just mixed, and he took a sip, his eyebrows raising in surprise. “Not bad. Actually, really good.”

She smiled, taking a sip of his creation in return. “Yours isn’t half bad either, weirdo.”

He snorted as he finished drinking, “Looks like we’ve both still got it.”

They clinked their glasses, a quiet laugh shared between them.

–

They moved to the couches near the window, drinks in hand, and the night outside stretched on in glittering silence. It was one of those rare moments when the city was alive, but they were in their own little world, insulated by glass and a few too many drinks.

She stretched out on the couch, swirling the last of her drink in the glass. “So, this is what it’s like, huh? Being Dieter Bravo. A penthouse with a killer view and a bar that puts most cocktail lounges to shame.”

Dieter leaned back, grinning. “You sound impressed.”

She tilted her head. “I mean, it’s nice. But I’m not that impressed.”

He snorted. “Figures. I’ve gotta work harder to impress you, huh?”

“You said it, not me.”

There was a beat of silence before he broke it. “So, what’s the story? Why’re you still working at a diner when you’re clearly way too smart for that?”

She shrugged, taking a sip. “You make it sound like I had a choice. You think I want to be a waitress?”

“No, but...” He trailed off, clearly thinking. “I don’t know. You strike me as someone who should be... doing more.”

She arched an eyebrow. “More, like what? Writing fanfiction for Cliff Beasts 7?”

Dieter laughed, the sound filling the space. “God, no. Please, spare me.”

She grinned. “It’s not for lack of trying. I just... haven’t found my place yet. It’s not as easy as, ‘Hey, I’m talented, someone notice me.’” She shook her head, her voice growing quieter. “It’s a lot of failing. Mostly failing.”

Dieter nodded, leaning back in his seat, his expression more serious now. “I get that.”

“Do you?” she asked, her voice softer but still edged with sarcasm. “Because from where I’m sitting, you’re pretty damn successful.”

Dieter looked at her, really looked at her this time. “You think success means you stop failing?”

She didn’t answer, watching him with curiosity.

He set his drink down and ran a hand through his hair. “You fail more when you’re successful. Trust me. People are just waiting for you to screw up. And when you do... they’re there to watch you burn.”

“You’re talking about the scandal.”

He nodded, taking another sip. “It’s not just the scandal. It’s everything. There’s always someone out there with a camera, waiting for you to mess up. They don’t care about what you do right. Just the crash.”

“So you’re saying you’re a slow-motion car crash?” she asked, her tone dry.

He smirked, nodding. “Exactly. A car crash people pay to watch.”

She stared at him for a moment, her mind working through his words. “That’s... kind of tragic.”

Dieter raised an eyebrow, his grin fading. “It is, isn’t it?”

They both went quiet, the weight of his words settling between them. But then she leaned forward, her eyes narrowing playfully. “You ever think about, I don’t know... getting out of the car? Stopping the crash?”

He barked a laugh, shaking his head. “And do what? Go back to bartending? Give up the Oscar for a shaker and ice?”

“Maybe.” She shrugged, her voice light but serious underneath. “Or maybe just... do something real. Something that’s not about everyone else’s expectations.”

Dieter looked at her for a long moment, something in his expression shifting, like he was seeing her in a new light. “You really believe that, don’t you?”

She nodded. “I do. Look, I might not be some hotshot writer, but I’ve always believed that what matters is the stuff that’s real. The art you make when no one’s watching. The stuff people don’t get to tear apart.”

“Yeah, but the problem is, everyone’s watching.”

She leaned back, crossing her arms. “So maybe that’s their problem.”

Dieter laughed, and this time it wasn’t the careless, guarded kind of laugh he usually gave. It was genuine. “You’ve got a point.”

“Of course I do. I’m always right.”

“Okay, Camus,” he teased, rolling his eyes. “You’re officially hired as my life coach.”

She leaned back, eyes glinting with mischief. “I don’t know if you could afford me.”

Dieter snorted, swirling his drink. “How expensive are you?” he asked, playful but intrigued.

She paused, pretending to consider it for a moment. “Depends… do you personally know Gérard Depardieu?”

Dieter grimaced, raising an eyebrow as he took another sip. “Gérard Depardieu?” He repeated, blinking in confusion.

She nodded, downing the rest of her drink in two big gulps, the alcohol warming her throat. “What? You don’t know him?”

“I mean, I do, but wow...” He let out a low whistle, shaking his head with a chuckle. “That’s a... pretty weird choice.”

“Well, what can I say? I like them like that.” She shrugged, her expression completely serious as she set her glass down.

Dieter threw his head back, laughing harder than he had all night. It was loud, unfiltered, and completely genuine, the kind of laugh that came when he wasn’t performing for anyone.

“You’re a trip, you know that?” he said, still grinning as he wiped at his eyes. “Gérard Depardieu. Damn. Haven’t thought about that guy in years.”

She raised an eyebrow. “What, are you saying you don’t have weird celebrity crushes?”

He tilted his head, considering the question for a second. “I mean... I am the weird celebrity crush.”

She rolled her eyes, but a smirk tugged at her lips. “How humble of you.”

“Hey, I’m just saying,” he replied, taking a sip of his drink. “You should hear the shit people say about me online. I’ve been everything from someone’s ‘gay awakening’ to someone’s inappropriate uncle.”

She snorted into her drink, barely containing her laughter. “Jesus. People are wild.”

Dieter smirked, leaning forward with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “So, c’mon. Who else you got? Who’s on your weird celebrity crush list? Lay it on me.”

She took a slow sip of her drink, savoring the moment, then said with a completely straight face, “Willem Dafoe.”

Dieter almost choked on his drink, eyes widening in disbelief as he stared at her like she’d just told him she was into cryptids. “Dafoe? Willem Dafoe?”

“Yeah,” she said, completely deadpan. “What’s wrong with Dafoe?”

He blinked, still recovering from nearly spitting his drink out. “I mean, nothing’s wrong with him, but... wow, that’s... unexpected.”

She shrugged, taking another sip of her drink. “I already shocked you with Depardieu. What were you expecting? Besides, Dafoe... he’s got range.” She gave him a wicked grin and added, “Plus, you know he’s freaky in bed.”

Dieter let out a loud bark of laughter, nearly doubling over. “Holy shit... you’re a freak. A true freak.”

She raised an eyebrow, her smirk widening. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“Oh no, it’s definitely not a bad thing,” he said, still chuckling as he reached over to refill her glass. “I’ve met some freaks in my time, but this? This is different. I like it.”

She eyed the freshly poured drink, tilting her head. “Not sure if I should feel good about that comment.”

Dieter grinned, clinking his glass against hers. “You should. Trust me.”

They both chuckled, the easy, playful energy between them lightening the mood even more. But then Dieter leaned back, giving her an amused look. “You know, I actually know Willem.”

Her eyes widened, her curiosity piqued. “No way. You know him?”

Dieter nodded, taking a slow sip. “Yeah. Great guy. Not as intense as his characters would make you think. Really down to earth. Freaky in his own way, sure, but... I get it. I guess I see what you see in him.”

She smiled, leaning back. “Well, that’s comforting.”

Then she paused, glancing down at her drink before adding, “I actually met him once. Worked as an assistant on a theater production he starred in a couple of years ago.”

Dieter’s eyes lit up. “No way. Seriously?”

“Yeah, seriously,” she said, nodding. “It was this small indie thing in New York. I wasn’t his assistant or anything, just part of the general crew, but I did get to work around him a bit. He’s... different, in a good way.”

Dieter leaned forward, intrigued. “Okay, now you’ve really got my attention. You’ve done PA work before?”

She shook her head, swirling the ice in her glass. “Not really. That was more of a part-time gig while I was in school. I applied for a real PA job a few years back, but it didn’t exactly go well.”

Dieter’s brow furrowed. “What happened?”

She sighed, her smirk fading as she stared down at her drink. “Well, I got all the way through the interviews, and then the celebrity—someone old-school—told me I was too chubby to work for them. Said I wouldn’t look good in photographs.”

Dieter’s face immediately twisted into a mix of shock and disgust. “Wait, what? Are you kidding me?”

“Nope,” she said, the bitterness in her voice barely masked by the nonchalance she was trying to project. “I didn’t even bother applying for PA jobs after that. Figured it wasn’t worth the hassle.”

Dieter shook his head, clearly appalled. “That’s... Jesus. I mean, I get that people in this industry are eccentric as hell, but that’s way too much. Who the hell cares what you look like in photos? You’re supposed to be doing a job, not starring in the damn pictures.”

She shrugged, a small, sad smile tugging at her lips. “Yeah, well, some people care. Guess I wasn’t the image they wanted.”

Dieter looked at her, his expression softening with empathy. “That’s seriously messed up. I’m sorry you went through that.”

She waved him off, smiling more genuinely this time. “It’s fine. Honestly, it was a while ago. I just stuck to writing and waitressing after that.”

“Well, for what it’s worth,” Dieter said, leaning forward, “that guy was a complete idiot. You’d make a damn good PA.”

She laughed softly, shaking her head. “Thanks. But I think I’m done with that world.”

Dieter studied her for a moment, then raised his glass in a small toast. “Well, here’s to not being the kind of asshole who judges people by how they look in photos.”

She clinked her glass against his, smiling again. “I’ll drink to that.”

The conversation lingered in the air after their laughter died down, a comfortable silence settling over them. She leaned back against the couch, her gaze drifting to the massive windows overlooking the city, the skyline glittering like a distant dream.

“Gotta say,” she began, her voice soft but still playful, “this penthouse is... something else. It’s almost too perfect, though. Feels more like a set than a home.”

Dieter glanced around the room, smirking faintly. “Yeah, that’s because it’s not home.”

She raised an eyebrow, curiosity piqued. “It’s not?”

He shook his head, swirling the last of his drink. “Nah. It’s just a place I own. I use it for... all the shit you probably hear about in the tabloids.”

She snorted, leaning in. “You mean the orgies and sex scandals?”

“Pretty much.” Dieter chuckled, but there was something more behind the laughter. His expression softened as he set the glass down on the table. “It’s not where I live. My real home is out in Sherman Oaks.”

She tilted her head, surprised. “Sherman Oaks?”

“Yeah,” he said, his voice quieter now. “It’s an actual house. Big, built for a family, but too large for just me. I don’t bring anyone there. Not my... conquests, not my parties. Just me. I paint there, you know? I’ve got this studio in the back, and when the world gets too loud, that’s where I go. It’s the only place I feel... I don’t know, settled.”

Her eyes softened as she listened. She hadn’t expected this level of honesty from him, but the vulnerability in his voice was unmistakable. “That sounds... nice, actually. Quiet.”

“It is,” he agreed, his gaze distant, as if he could picture the house in his mind. “But the silence can get too loud sometimes. Especially now that I’m older. That’s when I come back here. The penthouse. To drown it out.”

She frowned slightly, her fingers tracing the edge of her glass. “The silence?”

Dieter nodded, exhaling softly. “Yeah. You wouldn’t think silence could be so damn loud, but it is. Especially when you’re used to everything being... chaotic.”

She didn’t respond immediately, just watched him, the weight of his words sinking in. There was a loneliness there, one that no amount of parties, conquests, or tabloid headlines could fill. It wasn’t just about being alone—it was about being seen. About finding a place where the chaos didn’t define him.

She took a breath, her tone gentle but sure. “You don’t strike me as someone who likes the noise. Not really.”

Dieter blinked, turning his gaze back to her. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, people see the chaos, the headlines, the scandals. But I don’t think that’s really you.” She paused, her voice steady. “You’ve got a whole world inside you that no one bothers to look at. You’re not just the guy who parties and ends up in the tabloids. You’re more than that.”

His eyes flickered with something—surprise, maybe, or recognition. He opened his mouth to say something, but she continued before he could.

“They don’t see the parts of you that matter. The parts that create, that make something out of all this mess. The fact that you’ve got a studio and you paint—that tells me a lot. You’re more than just an actor, Dieter. You’re an artist. And not because you say so, but because you are.”

For a moment, Dieter just stared at her, as if her words had landed somewhere deeper than he’d expected. She was looking at him like no one had in years. Not like a star, not like the scandalized mess the world saw. She saw him. The real him.

His throat tightened, and suddenly, the air felt heavier. “You really think that?”

“I know it,” she replied, her tone matter-of-fact. “You’re not just memorizing lines. You’re putting something into the world that most people don’t even take the time to understand. But that doesn’t mean it’s not real. It’s real, Dieter. And it matters.”

He blinked, the familiar burn of tears stinging behind his eyes. It was strange—he hadn’t felt this exposed in so long. The vulnerability, the rawness of being seen for more than just the surface.

A tear slipped down his cheek, slow and steady. He swiped at it quickly, but another followed. It wasn’t a sobbing mess, no dramatic breakdown. Just a quiet release, like the weight of everything he’d been carrying finally had somewhere to go.

“Damn,” he muttered, laughing softly through the tears. “You’re really messing me up here.”

She smiled, nudging him gently with her elbow. “You needed to hear it.”

He wiped his eyes, still grinning despite the tears. “Guess I did.”

For a long moment, neither of them said anything. The silence between them wasn’t heavy or awkward. It was comfortable, filled with an understanding that went deeper than words. In the quiet of the penthouse, with the city lights twinkling in the background, Dieter felt something he hadn’t in a long time.

Peace.

But of course, Dieter couldn’t let the moment just sit there. He leaned over slightly, raising an eyebrow as a mischievous grin spread across his face. “So... is this the part where we kiss?”

She burst out laughing, her head falling back as she clutched her sides. “Oh my God, Dieter, you’re such an ass.”

For the first time in a long time, Dieter didn’t feel even a twinge of offense at being laughed at. In fact, her reaction made him laugh, too—a deep, real laugh that didn’t feel performative. It was just them, laughing like idiots in the middle of a moment that could’ve been serious, but wasn’t.

He shrugged, grinning. “Hey, had to shoot my shot.”

She shook her head, still giggling as she nudged him. “You’re impossible.”

“Yeah, but you like me,” he teased.

“Debatable,” she shot back, smirking. “But that was not the move, Bravo.”

He threw his hands up in mock surrender, still laughing. “Alright, alright, no kiss. Got it.”

She rolled her eyes, the amusement still lingering in her expression. “Seriously, though. You’re an ass.”

“Yeah, I’ve heard that before,” Dieter said, smirking. But beneath the joking, there was a warmth in his eyes, a softness that hadn’t been there before. He liked this—being around someone who could take his nonsense and throw it right back at him, without missing a beat.

–

They had been hanging out for days—Dieter laying low like his team had asked, and her finding herself more and more wrapped up in his world. It was easy with him. The lazy mornings that bled into afternoons, the spontaneous outings, the hours spent talking about nothing and everything. It was like living in a bubble, where the real world and all its mess didn’t exist.

But it couldn’t last forever.

They were lounging in his penthouse, another aimless afternoon with the TV buzzing in the background, both of them lost in their own thoughts.

“So,” Dieter began, his tone casual, but there was an edge of hesitation in it. “I’ve been thinking...”

She looked over at him, raising an eyebrow. “Uh-oh. That sounds dangerous.”

He chuckled, but there was a nervousness in his smile. “No, I mean... I’ve been thinking about you. Us, I guess.”

She frowned slightly, sitting up a bit straighter. “What do you mean?”

He rubbed the back of his neck, avoiding her gaze for a moment. “I think I... I really like you. And I want to stay friends, you know? If you’re cool with it.”

Her heart skipped a beat, and she didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Of course he liked her—they got along too well not to. But she knew what had to happen next.

She swallowed hard, forcing a smile. “I don’t think we can keep doing this.”

Dieter’s face fell, his brow furrowing in confusion. “Wait, what? Why not?”

“I can’t afford to stay in LA anymore,” she said, her voice quieter now. “I’m going home. To my mom’s and stepdad’s. The diner job just doesn’t cover rent or utilities, and figuring things out in this city isn’t really feasible for me right now.”

Dieter stared at her, the words slowly sinking in. His expression shifted from confusion to something deeper—sadness, maybe even panic. “You’re... leaving?”

She nodded, trying to keep it together. “Yeah. I’ve got no choice.”

For a moment, he didn’t say anything, just looked at her like she’d just ripped the floor out from under him. Then, true to form, Dieter went into full dramatic mode.

“Are you serious?” he groaned, throwing his head back dramatically. “This is the worst thing that’s ever happened to me. Like, ever.”

She laughed, despite herself. “Dieter, stop.”

“No, seriously,” he continued, flopping onto the couch like a petulant child. “You’re leaving me to fend for myself in this godforsaken city, and for what? Your mom’s house in the middle of nowhere? This is cruel and unusual punishment.”

She rolled her eyes, amused but touched by how much this seemed to affect him. “You’re being ridiculous.”

“Where’s your loyalty?” he muttered dramatically. “I thought we were in this together.”

She snorted. “I didn’t realize hanging out with you was a lifelong commitment.”

Dieter sat up suddenly, his eyes lighting up as if he’d just had the greatest idea of all time. “Wait a second...”

She eyed him warily. “What?”

“You still need a job, right?”

Her eyebrow arched. “...Yes?”

“I still need a PA,” he said, the excitement building in his voice. “My team hasn’t found anyone, and let’s face it—they’re probably going to stick me with some lifeless corporate robot.”

She blinked, not expecting this. “Wait, are you offering me a job?”

“Hell yes, I am,” he said, grinning like a kid with a new toy. “You’d be perfect. I mean, you know me. You get me. And you’re already here half the time anyway. Why not make it official?”

She hesitated, her mind racing. “I don’t know, Dieter. It feels like... I don’t know, like you’re just offering it because you feel bad.”

He shook his head, his expression softening. “No, I’m offering it because I need you. And not in a weird way, okay? I mean, yeah, it’s a job, but it’s also more than that. I trust you. And I don’t trust a lot of people.”

She bit her lip, still uncertain. “Yeah, but it comes with a paycheck, right? That’s gonna make me feel... really dirty.”

Dieter laughed, leaning back into the couch. “Oh, come on. It’s a legit offer. And I’m paying you well, so you’ll get used to feeling dirty real quick.”

She chuckled, shaking her head. “You’re impossible.”

“Seriously,” he continued, his tone softening again. “Think about it. It’s not charity. It’s not a handout. I really need your company, and I think you need this too.”

She exhaled, staring at him for a moment. “I’ll... think about it.”

A few days later, she was back at the penthouse, this time with Dieter’s manager, his lawyer, and Dieter himself, all sitting around the sleek kitchen island. It felt surreal.

The manager went over the details of the contract, but it was hard to focus on the specifics when her mind was spinning with how fast everything was happening.

“And, of course,” the manager added sternly, “we have to include the no-fucking clause. If you two get involved, it’s not only grounds for termination but also blacklisting.”

Dieter raised an eyebrow, looking slightly offended. “Seriously? That’s a bit much, isn’t it?”

She snorted, waving it off. “It’s fine, Bravo. I don’t think you’d want to fuck me anyway.”

He frowned, almost hurt. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

The manager chuckled, shaking his head. “He fucks anything that moves.”

She furrowed her brows briefly, her face showing a flash of disgust at the comment, but she kept her mouth shut. This wasn’t the time to start an argument with his team. Still, she couldn’t shake the sour taste the comment left in her mouth.

Dieter noticed her reaction and shot his manager a look, but the moment passed quickly as the lawyer handed her the contract to sign.

Once the papers were signed, it was official. She was now Dieter Bravo’s new assistant.

After the contract signing, they were back in the quiet of the penthouse. She stretched her arms out, feeling a mixture of excitement and disbelief at the day’s events. Dieter leaned against the counter, still processing it all too, and for a moment, the two of them just stood there in silence.

Then she clapped her hands together, breaking the moment. “Okay, Bravo, I’m treating you to dinner.”

Dieter blinked, confusion crossing his face. “Wait, what? You’re treating me?”

She grinned, nodding. “Yeah, to celebrate. You know, new job and all.”

He hesitated, raising an eyebrow. “You just signed a contract. You shouldn’t be spending money on me.”

She waved him off, rolling her eyes. “Take a chill pill. I just landed a sick new job with a really dirty paycheck. I’m excited, let me have this.”

Dieter chuckled, rubbing his neck sheepishly. “I’ve taken way too many pills in my life. Not sure I remember which one the chill pill is.”

She burst out laughing, grabbing her jacket. “Well, then this will be the antidote. C’mon, we’re getting Five Guys.”

Dieter’s grin grew wider, his eyes lighting up. “Damn, baby, you know I can’t say no to Five Guys.”

She shot him a smirk. “Then let’s go.”

They drove in Dieter’s car, windows heavily tinted, cruising through the LA streets as the sun dipped below the skyline. They grabbed their order from the drive-thru window and found an empty parking lot, parking under the dim glow of a streetlight.

Dieter reclined his seat all the way back, pushing the front seats to give them more space to lounge. She did the same, their legs stretched out as they unwrapped their burgers.

“So,” he mumbled around a mouthful of fries, “what now?”

She shrugged, her voice muffled as she stuffed more fries into her mouth. “Idunno.”

They ate in comfortable silence for a moment, the radio playing softly in the background, the quiet hum of the city far off in the distance.

Dieter glanced at her sideways, studying her face. “You seem a little... off.”

She paused mid-chew, looking at him. “What do you mean?”

He shrugged, biting into his burger. “I dunno. Just felt like something’s been bugging you since we left the penthouse.”

She exhaled, setting her burger down, wiping her hands on a napkin. “Well... your manager pissed me off. Big time.”

Dieter stopped chewing, his eyes widening a little. “What? Why?”

“That comment he made,” she said, rolling her eyes, “about you humping everything that moves. It was gross. And unnecessary.”

Dieter’s face reddened, the blush creeping up his neck as he rubbed at it, a little embarrassed. “Yeah, uh... that’s just how he is.”

She raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. “That doesn’t make it okay.”

He chuckled awkwardly, setting his burger down. “I mean, he wasn’t wrong. You’ve heard the stories, read the articles, right?”

She stared at him for a beat, then sighed. She knew he wasn’t trying to defend his manager, and in a way, she found that endearing—his loyalty to people even after everything they’d said about him. All the rumors, the scandals, the affairs. But she tucked that thought away for another time.

“That’s not the point,” she said, shaking her head. “As someone who works with you, the first thing your manager should be doing is protecting you—even from your own team.”

Dieter blinked, her words hitting harder than he expected. He felt something crack open in his chest. She wasn’t wrong. And hearing her say it so plainly made him realize just how much he’d let slide because of loyalty. Because of fear.

He smiled softly, biting into his burger, his voice quiet. “Thanks for saying that.”

She shrugged, offering him a small smile in return. “It’s true.”

Then, with a mischievous glint in her eye, she leaned over, wiggling her eyebrows. “Besides, you haven’t tried to fuck me yet, so I don’t think what your manager said was true.”

Dieter choked on his soda, laughing and coughing at the same time. “Jesus Christ,” he wheezed, shaking his head. “You’re unbelievable.”

She grinned, leaning back into her seat. “What? Am I not fuckable enough for Dieter Bravo?”

He immediately shook his head, his voice firm. “No, baby–you’re...fuck– you’re hot. Like, really hot. And I’m an idiot for not jumping you the second I met you.”

She snorted, clearly amused. “But?”

Dieter sighed, running a hand through his hair, his voice quieter but more grounded now. “Look, if we hadn’t had that first conversation, that night in the waiting room... I probably would’ve tried to sleep with you.”

She gasped dramatically, her eyes widening in mock horror. “Excuse me? What made you think I’d even want to sleep with you?”

Dieter burst out laughing, shaking his head. “Oh, c’mon, I’ve got ways. If I really wanted to, I could have charmed you into it.”

She snorted, shoving another fry into her mouth. “Yeah, right. You can’t charm your way into everyone’s bed, Bravo.”

Dieter stared at her, deadpan, raising an eyebrow. “Uh... yes, I can.”

They both broke into laughter, the moment light but laced with a shared understanding. Once their laughter died down, he leaned back, the humor fading slightly as he spoke again, this time more serious.

“But seriously,” he continued, his voice softer now, “I didn’t want to cross that line with you. Because... you’re different.”

She glanced at him, curious now, the playful energy between them simmering down as he opened up.

“I’m a messy person,” he admitted, his gaze dropping to the steering wheel, fingers idly tracing the edges. “In every sense of the word. My life, my relationships—they don’t end well. And I’ve ruined... too many things that mattered. I can’t ruin this. I won’t.”

She tilted her head, watching him closely. “Why do you think it would ruin things?”

He took a deep breath, the vulnerability flickering in his eyes as he finally met her gaze. “Because when I sleep with someone, I lose track of... what’s real and what’s not. It always starts out fine, but I mess things up. I make it complicated, and then it all falls apart. And I don’t want that to happen with you.”

She studied him for a moment, seeing the weight behind his words, the sincerity he rarely showed to anyone. This wasn’t the over-the-top, scandal-filled Dieter Bravo the world knew. This was a man who was genuinely afraid of ruining something good.

“Wow,” she muttered, trying to break the heaviness. “So you’re saying I was basically a goner if we hadn’t talked that first night?”

He chuckled, giving her a teasing grin. “Oh, absolutely.”

She laughed, shaking her head in disbelief. “You really are full of yourself.”

“No, I’m just honest,” he said with a playful smirk. “But really, I don’t want to just fuck this up. You get me, more than anyone has in a long time. And I don’t want to lose that because I was... impulsive.”

She looked at him for a long moment, their earlier banter giving way to something deeper. It was clear that he meant every word, and it made sense in a way she hadn’t expected. Dieter Bravo might have been a disaster in relationships, but he was choosing not to be a disaster with her. And that meant something.

“Well,” she said, her smile returning as she reached for another fry, “that’s good to know. I mean, you’re still a complete disaster, but you’re my kind of disaster.”

Dieter’s grin widened, the tension finally easing as he leaned back in his seat. “I’ll take it.”

She chewed thoughtfully for a moment, then added with a smirk, “Besides, now I’m legally being paid to not fuck you.”

He laughed, throwing his head back in genuine amusement. “And I’m legally paying you to not fuck me.”

She nodded sagely. “Sounds like a pretty sweet deal if you ask me.”

Dieter chuckled, the heaviness of the earlier conversation replaced by their usual playful energy. “Yeah, it’s working out pretty well so far.”

They both sat there, comfortable in the aftermath of the conversation, knowing that while the chemistry between them was undeniable, the friendship was what mattered most. And neither of them was willing to risk it, even if they joked about it.

They sat in the car, the remnants of their Five Guys feast scattered on the console between them. The night had slipped into a comfortable quiet, the kind that came from hours of laughter, honest conversation, and greasy burgers. Dieter stretched, glancing over at her with a lazy grin.

“So, what’s the plan?” he asked, wiping his hands on a napkin. “You heading home now?”

She nodded, finishing the last of her fries. “Yeah. Gotta pack up my stuff and get ready for the big move.”

Dieter raised an eyebrow, his lips curling into a smirk. “Right. Moving in with me. Never thought I’d reach this point in my life where a woman’s moving in with me... and I legally can’t fuck her.”

She snorted, shaking her head as she leaned back into her seat. “Welcome to adulthood, Bravo. Full of responsibilities and boundaries.”

Dieter’s grin widened, leaning a little closer. “So, about this moving in thing—are you planning on, like, wearing layers of clothing at all times? Because I don’t need to make this harder for myself than it already is.”

She shot him a look, deadpan. “Harder for yourself?”

He wiggled his eyebrows at her, eyes twinkling with mischief. “You know what I mean.”

She rolled her eyes, but couldn’t help the grin spreading across her face. “Listen, I promise to be fully covered in the ugliest, most unflattering pajamas you’ve ever seen. Think, like, thermal underwear, oversized sweaters, maybe a balaclava if I’m feeling extra considerate.”

Dieter threw his head back laughing, slapping the dashboard. “Jesus Christ, I don’t know if I should be grateful or terrified.”

“Both,” she said with a smirk, grabbing the last fry from the bag and popping it into her mouth.

Dieter leaned back, sighing contentedly. “I still can’t believe it though. I’m actually gonna live with a woman. And she’s not some wild fling, but an assistant I’m paying not to fuck. Talk about a plot twist.”

She laughed, wiping her hands on a napkin. “Well, you better get used to it. I’ll be back in the morning with all my crap.”

Dieter grinned, clearly amused by the whole situation. “Promise?”

“Promise,” she said, flashing him a smile. “Bright and early. So you better get your beauty sleep.”

He chuckled, looking at her fondly. “I’ll try.”

She reached for the door handle, pausing for a moment before looking back at him, her tone soft but teasing. “Try not to miss me too much tonight, alright?”

Dieter winked. “No promises.”

She stepped out of the car, waving as she walked toward her building. “See you tomorrow, Bravo.”

He watched her go, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Yeah,” he muttered under his breath, leaning back into the seat. “See you tomorrow.”

[wildemaven]

Dieter’s home from filming, you surprise him with a Valentines weekend