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absurdthirst · 5 months ago

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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 ||

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.

“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.”

#pedro pascal #dieter bravo #marcus acacius #general marcus acacius #gladiator 2 #the bubble #dieter bravo x reader #dieter bravo x you #dieter bravo x f!reader #dieter bravo smut #dieter bravo fanfiction #dieter bravo imagine

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umadosedepascal · 8 months ago

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What a smile… can you imagine Lucien in bed? 😮‍💨

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal x f!reader #frankie catfish morales #frankie morales #pedrohub #pedro pascal imagine #joel miller #dieter bravo

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imaginemixedfandom · 8 days ago

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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 😭

#joel miller x reader #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal imagine #dieter bravo x reader #din dijarin x reader #javier pena x reader

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tightjeansjavi · 7 months ago

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‘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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wildemaven · 1 year ago

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You get to watch Dieter host SNL

#dieter bravo #dieter bravo imagine #pedro pascal #SNL #wildemaven moodboard #wildemaven moodboard dieter

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chiriwritesstuffnotifs · 9 months ago

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The New Girl in Tinseltown - Chapter 1 - Ukiyo

A Dieter Bravo x Actress! Reader PR Marriage AU

Series Masterlist │ Next Chapter

Chapter Rating: E (18+, MDNI)

Chapter Summary: Tired of being pigeonholed into your good girl persona, you take a chance on a night out with Dieter Bravo, America's favorite Bad Boy. A drunken night leads to the two of you in Las Vegas...

Chapter Warnings and Tags: (Not So) meet cute, PR Relationships, what happens in Vegas ends up in the headlines, Dieter just does not give a FUCK, Smut, SO MUCH SMUT, a look at the inner workings of Tinseltown and the sleaziness it comes with, Somnophilia, Slightly Dub-Con (but she's into it), cunnilingus, SLOW BURN WE DONT KNOW IT, this is unhinged, no use of y/n, No beta we die like men!

Word Count: 3.1 K

A/N: After the insistence of some of my readers wanting me to write a Dieter story, I finally bit the bullet! I will be honest - it's tough for me to watch 'The Bubble' in its entirety. Hence, I heavily relied on TikTok and its fabulous edits of Dieter to develop his characterization. This was really fun for me to write, and I hope you all enjoy the ride our favorite trash panda is about to take us on! Gird your loins and your panties, babies!

Ukiyo - living in the moment, detached from the things in life that bother us.

You feel like you're trapped in a surreal, fucked-up dream.

Memories from the night before flooding your mind as you gradually pull yourself back into consciousness.

"It's nothing personal, Dollface, it's just business," the sleazy hot-shot producer whispers in your ear. His hands graze your lower back, and you force a smile amidst the swarm of paparazzi. "I'm not a miracle worker, baby. They want an Angelina, not a Jennifer. Casting America's sweetheart in an R-rated movie? It's a tough sell."

"I'm not exactly jailbait," you retort, turning toward the paparazzo bellowing your name, a practiced smile on your face. "I believe I'm ready to explore different roles-"

"Well, that 'no-nudity' clause is really messing you up, baby. Times are changing, and they want bold, daring, sexy actresses," he remarks, his tone oozing condescension.

The producer's creepy breath tickles your ear, and his hands venture lower down your back. "I can help you with that," he whispers, and the suggestion feels like a toxic cloud hanging in the air, making your skin crawl.

You toss and turn in bed, gripping the silky sheets beneath you. The memory of his touch haunts your thoughts, leaving you uncomfortable and anxious.

"Dieter Bravo," your publicist cautions with a smile, guiding you down the carpet, "is someone you want to avoid tonight, Doll. Save yourself the hassle, seriously."

You furrow your brow, glancing down the red carpet to where Dieter stands. His unruly curls frame his face as he grins widely for the photographers. It's as if he senses your gaze; suddenly, his eyes lock onto yours, eyebrows raised in surprise. A smirk plays on his lips, and he blows a kiss in your direction.

"He's nothing but trouble, I'm surprised they let him on the carpet after what happened last year," your publicist states matter-of-factly.

"Care to remind me?" you breathe, smiling at the cameras. "He seems like a riot."

Your publicist shoots you a look. "Well, I don't consider getting arrested for public intoxication, disorderly conduct, and lewd behavior as something amusing-"

"I don't know, seems like he would be a fun time," you muse, playfully pushing your breasts in Dieter's direction. "Maybe that's what my career needs – someone like Dieter Bravo corrupting America's Sweetheart." Dieter leers at the gesture, waggling his tongue and adjusting himself as he walks backward into the venue, a mischievous grin on his face. "... besides, he hasn't been shy about wanting to 'put his face in between my tits', maybe I should just let him have at it."

"Are you seriously considering tanking your career before it's even taken off?" your publicist groans, steering you into the venue and handing you a flute of champagne. "People like him are like a virus; he'll infect everything about you." He lets out a sigh. "I understand you want to break out of the girl-next-door mold, but getting involved with Dieter Bravo is not the answer."

You take a sip of your champagne as you continue to eye fuck Dieter from across the room. "I don't know, maybe it is."

You're suddenly gasping in pleasure as you're finally jolted awake, the feeling of someone's hot breath against your skin as you arch your back at the sudden intrusion. "Fuck-" you sigh, looking down at the mass of unruly curly hair in between your legs. Dieter licks and parts your folds as you lock eyes with his, a shit-eating grin on his face. You swear you hear an insistent ringing in your head.

"Dieter?" you moan, realizing that what you're hearing is your ringtone from across the hotel room that you don't remember being in. "What-"

"Shh, baby. Let your husband eat you for breakfast," he mumbles against your pussy, his teeth scraping at your clit. He grabs onto your breast, squeezing and pinching your nipple as he sticks his other finger into you, eating you out so thoroughly like a starved man. Your cellphone rings again and you're too overwhelmed to care, your head pounding from whatever you drank the night before.

"Husband?" you ask confusedly as you feel yourself about to come.

"That's right, Doll, fuck I feel you squeezing the shit out of my fingers, are you gonna come for your husband?" he pleads, and you realize that you're both stark naked and that you somehow ended up from LA to Las Vegas, getting eaten out by America's Bad Boy in a suite at the Cosmopolitan. How in the fuck did we end up here? you ask yourself in a panic. Why the fuck is Dieter Bravo calling himself my husband?!

You're on your fifth glass of whatever champagne the venue is serving when you suddenly feel someone's hot breath against your ear. "I can't help but notice that you've been eye fucking me the entire night," Dieter groans, taking a seat next to you. "I guess my little ploy of trying to get your attention with that Wired interview worked out in my favor-"

"You know, there are more normal ways to get a girl's attention-"

"Ah, but you're America's Sweetheart, and your pitbull of a publicist won't let me near you, I had to let my-" he gazes at your cleavage, "intentions very clearly known."

"Well, I don't know if it's clearly known," you whisper. "I think you're just going to have to spell it out for me."

He smiles, leaning back in the seat as he spreads his legs, caging you in. "Do you want to have sex with me, Dollface?"

Your phone ringing a third time snaps you out of your reverie as you simultaneously chase your impending orgasm that your husband? is working so damn hard trying to get you there. "Fuck Dieter, I need-"

"What do you need, baby?" he pants, the sound of your slick as he licks at your folds aggressively, the loud squelching echoing throughout the room. "My wife has such a pretty little pussy, my fucking GOD," he praises, "Fuck, if this is heaven, I'm begging to see what hell has in store for me-"

It's obscene.

"Do you need my cock? Didn't get enough of it yesterday, huh?"

"My phone-"

"Fuck your phone," he dismisses as he starts to pump another finger into you, "Do you want your hubby's cock or not, baby?"

"Ye-"

Your legs are suddenly pulled to the edge of the bed, Dieter entering you in one fluid stroke. "Good enough answer for me." He pulls himself back, grabbing one of your legs and wrapping it around his waist as he thrusts aggressively back into you, his balls slapping your asscheeks as he begins to pound into you with a brutal pace. "Fuck, only took me being inside of you the whole night for you to take me in so fucking well-"

You chuckle as he accelerates out of the venue's parking garage in his PA's Mustang convertible, cackling like a madman as he maneuvers through the dwindling streets of LA. "Are you hungry, Dollface?" he yells, almost running a red light, his eyes fixed on the glowing In and Out sign in the distance.

"I shouldn't, I have that screen test next week-"

"Fuck the screen test!" he shouts. "The night is young, and you are gorgeous. Let Dieter take care of you, baby... while I still have you in my grasp. I ain't gonna waste a moment I have you in my orbit!"

He pulls into the In and Out parking lot, cutting the engine, and pulls you into his lap, his face immediately diving into the valley between your breasts. "You can suffocate me with these tits and I would die a happy man," he mumbles against your skin, his growl reverberating throughout your entire body like wildfire. "What do you say, Doll? Would you do me the honors?"

"Fuck Dieter," you moan, tipping your head back in pleasure as his tongue teases the edge of your dress covering your breasts. "Grab my tits," you beg, grabbing his hands for good measure.

"Dieter! My Man!" someone shouts in the distance. "What the fuck are you doing here?!"

"What does it look like I'm doing?" he yells back, "I'm about to fuck this beautiful woman in an In and Out parking lot, what are you doing here?"

"Fuck, can I take a pic, man?" the fan shouts as he approaches the convertible.

Dieter is railing you into oblivion when there's suddenly a heavy knock on the door. Your phone is ringing off the hook, and you can't help but desperately whine as Dieter wraps his arms around your neck, pulling you into a kiss. "Fuck, can't I fuck my wife in peace?!" he growls at the door, his pace quickening as he urges you to come on his cock. "I ain't answering the fucking door until you milk me dry, baby girl, you gonna come for me?"

"Fuck Dieter, don't fucking stop, please-"

The knocking on the door echoes throughout the room as Dieter suddenly arches his back, squeezing your thighs harshly as he explodes deep into your pussy, his fingers finding your clit as he desperately rubs circles, begging you to come. He slaps it for good measure, the sharp sudden pain making you arch off the bed as you grab ahold of him, screaming into his neck as you're suddenly blinded by a feeling of absolute fucking bliss that no one has ever been able to pull from your wrecked, shaking body.

"That's the fucking spirit, Doll, give me every-"

"OPEN THE FUCKING DOOR!" you suddenly hear. "I KNOW YOU'RE FUCKING IN THERE!"

Dieter pulls himself out in a huff, not bothering to cover himself as he storms over to the hotel room door, opening it harshly for good measure. "What do you FUCKING WANT-" he growls to the intruder, only to be met with the widening eyes of your publicist, his PA, and the Hotel Manager. Your publisher harshly pushes himself through the threshold, pushing Dieter to the wall as he makes his way to the bedroom, and you hurriedly cover yourself as he bursts through the door.

A phone is thrust into your face, the image of you and Dieter in front of the Graceland Wedding Chapel in the background as you hold your hand up for the camera, Dieter kissing your cheek as the diamond ring on your finger winks back at you. You lift your hand to your face, your eyes widening at the ring on your finger as your publicist glares at you, his chest heaving.

"Do you want to tell me what the fuck happened last night?"

"So how do we fix this?" your publicist groans, the wrinkle between his brows more pronounced. "Maybe we can get this sham of a marriage annulled-"

"I have an idea," Dieter's PA chirps in, "What if we lean into this?"

"Absolutely not!" you find yourself shouting, your hands reaching for the bottle of painkillers on your coffee table. "I'm America's fucking sweetheart, the gossip rags are already having a field day about me getting my tits groped by America's bad boy at a fucking In and Out-"

"If I can recall, Dollface, you put my hands on said tits-" Dieter snarks, pushing his sunglasses down on his face, leaning into your chaise. "Must have done something right, hell, you were practically begging me to marry you, jumped on my lap the moment we got into the convertible-"

"Are you always this vulgar?" you bite back, taking a big gulp of water, some of the liquid spilling down your neck, onto the valley between your breasts. You notice Dieter gulp at the sight, his gaze resting heavily on your chest. He takes a tentative lick on his lips, a small smile forming on the corner of his mouth.

"Only for you, Mrs. Bravo." He winks, smirking.

"Stop that." You quip, crossing your arms around your chest.

"Stop what, Dollface?" he asks coyly, spreading out on the lounge.

"Looking at me like the cat that got the cream," you reply, refusing to meet what you imagine to be his smoldering gaze.

"Well," he breathes, a Cheshire grin on his face. "I most certainly got you to cream, several times-"

"I would think the feelings mutual," you seethe through your teeth. "I mean, I did get you to come in your pants just by sucking on your-"

“You want to land meatier, sexier roles, right? Break free from the rom-com stereotype,” Dieter's PA nervously interjects, “… and you certainly don’t want to face blacklisting in Hollywood due to your recent escapades,” he shoots a meaningful look at his boss. “I believe this marriage might actually be a strategic move. It could help you break out of the girl-next-door image and simultaneously soften Dieter's playboy persona.”

Dieter contemplates this, crossing his legs on the chaise lounge as he glances into the living room of the hotel suite. He smirks at the sight of you with your arms crossed around your chest, recalling the moments when you were pliant in his arms just a few hours ago, begging and whining as he licked and sucked every inch of your delectable skin. His dick twitches at the memory, hungry to be inside of you once more.

Dieter leans back, his fingers tapping on the armrest as he assesses the situation. “A calculated scandal to redefine my image and give her career a new direction? I suppose there's a certain allure to that.”

Your publicist interjects, “It's a risky move, but it could work. Public opinion is volatile. We need to control the narrative, give them a story that captivates and eventually redeems.”

Dieter smirks, his eyes narrowing as he looks at you. “So, America’s sweetheart and I play the happy couple, the media eats it up, and we both get what we want.”

You scoff, “This is insane. I’m not entering into a fake marriage for the sake of our careers.”

Dieter raises an eyebrow, "But what if it's not entirely fake?"

You glare at him, a mixture of disbelief and annoyance crossing your face. "What do you mean, not entirely fake?"

Dieter leans forward, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "We can keep the public guessing. A little ambiguity goes a long way in the celebrity world. We'll play the part when we need to, but in private, we keep things... interesting."

Your publicist looks skeptical, "That could be a recipe for disaster. What if it backfires? What if the public starts hating both of you?"

Dieter smirks, "Let them talk. Controversy sells, my dear. As long as we control the narrative, we can turn this into a win-win situation."

You cross your arms, feeling a headache coming on. The idea of navigating a fake-real marriage with Dieter is the last thing you want. Yet, there's a strange spark of curiosity. What if this insane plan could actually work?

As you contemplate the proposal, the room is filled with tension, waiting for your response. Dieter raises a curious eyebrow at you, a small smirk playing on his lips as he places his hand on them. He sees you gulp heavily at that, your legs crossing tentatively as you try to play coy. Ah, yes, sweetheart. I see you. I caught you in my web, and I'm going to consume every fucking inch-

You take a deep breath, considering the options laid out in front of you. The publicist watches you with a mix of concern and caution, awaiting your decision.

"I don't like it," you finally say, your tone firm. "But if it helps me keep my career and get the roles I want, I'll play along. Just remember, Dieter, if this blows up in our faces, it's on you."

Dieter grins, satisfied with your response. "Trust me, darling, this is going to be a wild ride. We'll be the talk of the town."

Your publicist rubs his temples, clearly not thrilled with the plan but realizing the potential benefits. "Fine, let's go with it. But we need a strategy, a narrative that controls the story. And we must be careful not to let things spiral out of control."

Dieter nods, already plotting the next move. "Leave it to me. We'll craft a story that keeps them guessing and wanting more. Our little secret, darling."

"... and there will need to be some ground rules," you say firmly, uncrossing your legs as you adjust yourself in front of Dieter, presenting the fact that you still haven't put on underwear under your dress. You smirk as he tries to adjust himself, the sight of his spend still leaking out of your pussy leaving him groaning. "If we are going to do this, you have to be in it for real which means... no fucking little Miss Suzy and embarrassing me. You're going to worship me in public, and make an honest wife out of me."

Dieter leans forward as he locks his darkened eyes at you, licking his lips in anticipation. "Oh baby, I'll show you how I'll make an honest wife of you, several times... maybe as soon as all the suits leave-"

"You love this, don't you?" you breathe, toying with the hem of your top, exposing your lace bralette in his direction. "Thinking you have me all riled up, thinking I'll beg for you-"

"Guys-" Dieter's PA attempts to diffuse the tension in the room, looking nervously at your publicist for backup. "Just think about it, okay? I'll have your lawyers draft up a contract for the both of you to look over."

"Why don't you all just get the fuck out and let me fuck my wife in peace?" he retorts, pulling his robe off for good measure, not a care in the world as his dick stands proudly erect. "You're wasting good light, and I intend to fuck her on every surface of this goddamn suite-"

"Lovely," you sigh into the couch, groaning as you pinch the space in between your eyes. "You're a real class act, you know that?"

"Well, I'll just-" His PA stutters, grabbing his messenger bag. "Let's leave them alone, call us when you get back to LA," he murmurs, motioning for your Publicist to follow him.

"We're not done with this conversation, Dollface," he chides, slinging his bag on his shoulder. "I expect to see you on Monday for the screen test?"

"Yes, yes, I'll be there," you dismiss him with a wave. "I'm sorry, for all of this," you say softly, refusing to look him in the eyes.

"Not as sorry as you're going to feel once you see the headlines," he warns. "Brace yourself, Dollface. Don't say I didn't warn you."

Taglist: @yxtkiwiyxt @skysmiller @picketniffler @readingiskeepingmegoing @islacharlotte @drewharrisonwriter

#the new girl in tinseltown #dieter bravo #dieter bravo x female reader #dieter bravo x you #dieter bravo x reader #dieter x reader #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fandom #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal imagine #dieter bravo smut #dieter bravo fic #dieter bravo fanfiction #dieter bravo fanfic #the bubble

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drewharrisonwriter · 2 months ago

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Life Well Loved

Status: One Shot, Complete

Summary: Dieter Bravo’s life proves that plans are overrated—and he’s never been more right about not having one.

Word Count: 12.9k words -- I KNOW! (In Monica Geller's voice)

A/N: Am I having a Dieter brain rot? Why yes, yes, I am. I know I should be writing the next chapter of Lifeline, but here we are. This story contains themes of pregnancy and navigating unexpected life changes, with emotionally intense scenes that touch on topics like potential pregnancy termination, personal doubts, and fears. Though it's mostly fluff, the narrative leans toward a hopeful and supportive direction but explores the complexities of relationships and personal growth. Because hey, it's Dieter!

Warnings: Allusion to abortion, brief mentions of substance use (past), discussions of anxiety and self-doubt, public scrutiny/social media negativity, mentions of past parental loss, minor family tensions, and emotional conversations around pregnancy. Please read with care if these subjects are sensitive for you.

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. 💜🙏🏻

Read this on AO3 | Check out my Masterlist

Dieter Bravo never thought he’d end up married, let alone to his best friend. It wasn’t the kind of love story he had planned for himself, but then again, Dieter’s plans were usually an afterthought to his impulsive nature. He met her—his wife, the love of his life—years ago at a book signing. He’d been dragged there by a friend who swore her mystery novels were like something straight out of an Agatha Christie thriller, but with a modern, edgier twist.

“Come on, man. Just try something new,” his friend had nudged, practically shoving Dieter into the crowded bookstore. “She’s hot and her books are actually good. Not that you’d know.”

Dieter rolled his eyes but followed, pretending not to care. He didn’t read much beyond scripts, but when he saw her—standing there all wide-eyed and charming behind the signing table, chatting easily with fans—he was hooked. She had this warmth about her, a smile that reached her eyes, and a way of making everyone feel like they were the only person in the room.

When it was his turn in line, Dieter cleared his throat, a little unsure of what to say. “So, uh, is it true you based your killer on your ex?” he asked, flashing her his signature smirk.

She looked up, amused. “Only the charming parts. The murderous tendencies are purely fictional.”

Dieter chuckled, genuinely entertained. “Good to know. I’ll keep my charming side in check.”

She laughed, and Dieter swore he could listen to that sound all day. But the moment passed quickly, and they parted ways, the brief exchange lingering in Dieter’s mind longer than he’d like to admit.

They didn’t reconnect until months later when Dieter landed the role of a lifetime in the film adaptation of one of her books. He played the brooding lead, a role he was born to play, and she was on set every day, consulting on the story she knew better than anyone.

“Bravo!” she called out one afternoon, waving the script in the air as he finished a scene. “I think you missed a line, but you definitely nailed the smirk.”

“Missed the line? Nah, I made it better,” Dieter shot back, strutting over with that effortless confidence of his. “Besides, isn’t the lead supposed to be mysterious and broody? I’m just adding layers.”

She rolled her eyes, smiling. “Layers of bullshit, maybe.”

Their banter was easy, and soon, late nights spent in hotel bars became their thing. They’d laugh over terrible room service and even worse dialogue changes, often rewriting entire scenes together between drinks.

“Do you think the audience is gonna buy this twist?” Dieter asked one night, his brow furrowed as he scribbled on a napkin. “It’s a bit much, don’t you think?”

“It’s a mystery, Bravo. It’s supposed to be dramatic,” she said, playfully nudging his shoulder. “Besides, you’re the one bringing it to life. If anyone can sell it, it’s you.”

Over the years, their friendship grew deeper. Dieter adored her—not just for her talent, but for the way she saw right through him. She didn’t care about the Hollywood persona; she cared about the guy who struggled with his lines, laughed too loudly, and occasionally got lost in his own head. And it was clear to anyone who knew him that she was the only one who truly got him.

“Why do you even stick around?” Dieter asked one night, half-drunk and more vulnerable than he intended. They were sitting on the balcony of some hotel in Vancouver, the city lights flickering below them, empty glasses scattered between them.

She looked over at him, surprised at the question but not at the insecurity behind it. “You’re kidding, right? Who else is gonna put up with my obsessive rewriting of everything?”

Dieter smirked, but the self-deprecation was still there, hovering. “I’m serious, baby. You’ve seen me at my worst. Hell, you’ve probably seen me at my best, and let’s be real, there’s not a whole lot of difference.”

She rolled her eyes, but there was affection in the gesture. “Come on, Dee. You think I don’t know who you are? I’ve watched you screw up a million times and still pull it off somehow. You’re not as hopeless as you think.”

“Yeah, but it’s all smoke and mirrors,” he muttered, leaning back and staring at the city. “I’m just this mess pretending to be a movie star. And people buy it, but I don’t know how much longer I can keep up the act.”

She leaned closer, her smile gentle but knowing. “You’re not acting, Dee. This is you—chaotic, brilliant, all over the place. And somehow it works. That’s why people love you. It’s why I love you.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “Sure, but it’s not exactly the stuff that makes for a stable life. I can’t even commit to a weekly gym routine, let alone… you know, anything permanent.”

“Well, it’s good you know that about yourself,” she said, her tone more serious now. “But just because you’re not ready for all that doesn’t mean you’re a failure. You’ve built this crazy, messy, amazing life, and you’ve done it on your terms.”

Dieter glanced at her, the sincerity in her eyes almost too much to bear. “But it’s still just a mess, right? Like, I don’t know how to be the guy who settles down, who has the white picket fence and the kids. It’s not in me.”

“Yeah, but that doesn’t make you any less,” she pointed out, nudging his knee with hers. “You’re the guy who shows up when it counts, who makes people laugh when they need it, who cares more than he lets on. And that’s enough, Dee. It really is.”

Dieter stared at her, his expression softening. “You make it sound like I’m not totally screwing everything up.”

“Because you’re not,” she said simply, giving him a small, reassuring smile. “You’re doing what works for you, and that’s more than most people can say. So don’t be so hard on yourself, okay?”

They sat in a comfortable silence, the kind that comes from knowing each other inside and out. Dieter wasn’t sure if he could ever really change, but with her by his side, he felt like maybe he didn’t need to.

The media loved to ask when Dieter Bravo, Hollywood’s lovable mess, was going to settle down. He always laughed it off, brushing it aside with jokes and his trademark self-deprecation. “Settle down?” he’d scoff to reporters, flashing that crooked grin. “Have kids? I can barely take care of myself. I mean, who’s gonna look after the baby when I’m off in Cabo or Amsterdam on a bender?”

He was always open about not wanting to be tied down, convinced that marriage and fatherhood were responsibilities he’d inevitably screw up just like everything else. Deep down, he didn’t think he was cut out for it. Not the commitment, not the kids—none of it. And yet, every time he thought about those nights spent talking with her, he couldn’t help but wonder if maybe, just maybe, he could be more than the sum of his fears.

The truth was, Dieter loved being around kids, especially when visiting his favorite charities—arts programs, hospitals, anywhere that needed his presence to brighten the day. He had a soft spot for the kids who showed up at his movie premieres with homemade signs and for the shy ones who peeked out from behind their parents at hospital visits, their eyes lighting up at the sight of a real-life movie star. He’d spend hours signing autographs, posing for pictures, and handing out gifts. But wanting that momentary joy and having it every day were two entirely different things, and he didn’t think he was built for the kind of life that meant forever.

Then there was Vegas. It was one of those wild weekends that only Dieter and his friends could pull off, the kind that started with a simple plan and spiraled into chaos before anyone could catch their breath. They were there to celebrate a friend’s birthday—a milestone that felt more like a warning than a celebration to Dieter, who had spent the better part of the year dodging questions about settling down and growing up.

The night was a blur of neon lights, overpriced drinks, and the kind of reckless energy that only Vegas could inspire. Dieter and his best friend were deep into their third round of shots at some tacky but charming casino bar, laughing so hard their sides hurt. The conversation was easy, like it always was, jumping from half-remembered movie quotes to bad relationship stories that only got funnier with every shot.

“Remember when you two were drunk off margaritas and swore you’d get married if you were still single at 35?” one of their friends blurted out, pointing at Dieter and her with a tipsy grin. “Well, look at that—clock’s ticking, you two.”

“Oh please, they’d kill each other in a week,” another friend chimed in, rolling their eyes dramatically. “But hey, at least the headlines would be great.”

Dieter leaned back, smirking. “You think she’d kill me? I’m charming as hell.”

She snorted, leaning in closer to Dieter. “Charming? Sure, Dee, if charming means spilling three drinks and forgetting your lines.”

“Oh, you love it, don’t lie,” Dieter shot back, nudging her shoulder playfully.

Their friends egged them on, throwing out half-baked marriage advice between sips of whatever was in their glasses. “Just make sure you don’t pull a Ross and say the wrong name at the altar,” one joked, and they all burst into laughter, doubling over as the drinks kept flowing.

“Hey, I can pronounce her name just fine,” Dieter retorted, raising his glass to her. “What do you say, baby? You and me, Vegas style.”

“Wel…we’re way past 35 now…” she said, still smiling but now with a hint of mischief, “technically, we missed our window… so might as well make good on that old pact, right?”

Dieter stared at her, the room spinning slightly as he tried to read between the lines. They were supposed to be just friends, right? But it didn’t feel like a joke anymore, not when she looked at him like that. And for once, he didn’t want to think it through. He didn’t want to second-guess it or talk himself out of it like he usually did.

“Fuck it,” Dieter said, grinning wider than he had in months. “Let’s do it. You and me, baby. Let’s get hitched.”

Their friends erupted in cheers, half-shocked, half-encouraging, but it didn’t matter. They were drunk on cheap tequila and the reckless abandon of the Vegas Strip, where anything seemed possible. Before Dieter knew it, they were stumbling into a tacky little chapel off the main drag, the kind with neon hearts and an Elvis impersonator in the back who’d seen one too many late-night weddings.

The ceremony was a blur. Dieter remembered laughing so hard that he nearly dropped the ring—some gaudy, oversized thing they’d bought from a souvenir shop on the way over—and the way she squeezed his hand so tightly he could feel her nerves mixing with his own. There were no big speeches or dramatic declarations of love, just a lot of giggling, whispered jokes, and the kind of easy joy that felt like it belonged to them and them alone.

“Do you, Dieter Bravo, take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife?” the Elvis officiant drawled, barely keeping it together.

Dieter glanced at her, still half-expecting her to back out at the last second. But she was looking at him, eyes full of that familiar mix of sarcasm and something deeper that he’d never quite put a name to. “I do,” he said, and for once, it didn’t feel like a lie.

“And do you, sweetheart, take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband?” Elvis asked, already cracking a grin.

She squeezed Dieter’s hand, barely containing her laughter. “Hell yeah, I do.”

Elvis squinted, pausing dramatically. “Are you sure? Divorces are expensive. Trust me, I’ve had three.”

Their friends howled from the pews, tossing out quips. “Yeah, blink twice if you need an escape plan!” one of them shouted, while another chimed in, “You’re stuck with him now, good luck!”

Dieter threw his arm around her, laughing so hard his sides hurt. “Don’t worry, baby, I’m the best terrible decision you’ll ever make.”

She leaned in, grinning. “Guess we’re both screwed then.”

They kissed, and it was messy and off-center, but it felt right. It was the kind of kiss that was more about the laughter and less about the perfection of the moment, which was exactly how Dieter liked it. When they pulled apart, he was breathless, and she was glowing in a way that made the whole crazy, impulsive thing feel like the best decision he’d ever made.

They walked out of that chapel with matching rings and a new reality that neither of them fully understood but were more than willing to figure out together. And in true Dieter fashion, they celebrated the only way they knew how—by grabbing greasy burgers at an all-night diner and gambling away the rest of the night like newlyweds who couldn’t care less about what tomorrow would bring.

For once in his life, Dieter didn’t feel like he was running from anything. He was running toward something—toward her—and it felt like the only thing that made sense.

–

The first few months of marriage were an unpredictable whirlwind, much like the wedding itself. There were no grand changes, no dramatic shifts—just more of the same easy companionship they’d always had, now with the added humor of “Mrs. Bravo” peppered into their banter. They spent mornings in Dieter’s cluttered kitchen, arguing over the best way to make coffee while stumbling over each other in pajamas that never quite matched. Evenings were spent curled up on the couch, watching bad movies and stealing kisses during the credits like lovesick teenagers.

Their friends couldn’t get enough of it, either. The tabloids had gone wild over the news—Dieter Bravo, Hollywood’s most notorious bachelor, suddenly married to his long-time friend in a drunken Vegas escapade. Headlines like “Bravo’s Big Gamble” and “Hollywood’s Wildest Newlyweds” splashed across every gossip rag in the country. But Dieter and his wife took it in stride, shrugging off the noise and focusing on what actually mattered: them.

His family had been just as surprised but in the best way. They had welcomed her with open arms from the very first time she and Dieter had visited together. His mom had pulled her into a tight hug at the door, immediately peppering her with questions about her books and telling her how she had a shelf dedicated to them in the living room. Dieter’s siblings loved her, too—his sister often roping her into baking sessions in the kitchen, laughing over old stories about Dieter’s childhood antics that usually ended with him covered in mud or glitter or some combination of both.

It wasn’t long before she became a staple in their family gatherings, fitting in as if she’d always been there. Sunday dinners at the Bravo house turned into her favorite ritual. She’d help Dieter’s mom in the kitchen, rolling out dough for pies while swapping recipes and stories. Dieter’s nieces and nephews adored her, crowding around to hear tales of mystery and adventure, eyes wide as she brought her characters to life with every word.

“Can you tell us the one about the detective who finds the secret tunnel again?” one of his nephews had asked during Thanksgiving, tugging at her sleeve.

She smiled, glancing at Dieter, who was sitting at the head of the table, grinning like an idiot. “Only if you promise to help me figure out what’s at the end of it,” she teased, ruffling his hair.

His father, a retired fertility expert who had always been the more reserved member of the family, quickly warmed up to her, too. They’d sit on the porch during long afternoons, sipping coffee and talking about life, books, and the occasional scientific trivia that she found endlessly fascinating. He appreciated her wit, her genuine interest in everyone around her, and the way she always seemed to make his son smile.

As the year rolled by, the Bravo family embraced her more and more, and she felt a sense of belonging she hadn’t expected. She was no longer just Dieter’s wife; she was a daughter-in-law, a sister, and an aunt. She was family.

So when Christmas rolled around again, she was eager to be back at the Bravo household, despite feeling under the weather. She’d been sick for nearly two weeks, and Dieter had been worried. She barely ate, surviving mostly on pesto chicken paninis and iced coffee—the only things she could keep down. Still, she was excited to see his family, to bask in the warmth of his mother’s home-cooked meals and his sister-in-law’s desserts. She was looking forward to being surrounded by people who loved her as much as she loved them.

The moment they stepped through the front door, Dieter’s mom engulfed her in a hug, commenting on how thin she looked, and his sister immediately dragged her into the kitchen, insisting on making her favorite cookies. Dieter watched from the doorway, leaning against the frame with a smile. She fit here—so naturally, so effortlessly—that it almost made him forget how odd it all still felt to be someone’s husband. But then she’d look at him across the room, with that same smile she’d had since the bar in Vegas, and it felt right.

But as they settled into the cozy familiarity of his childhood home, Dieter’s father began to notice something. It wasn’t just that she looked tired—there was something else. A subtle glow to her skin, the way her eyes would soften when she looked at Dieter, the quiet but unmistakable aversions to certain foods she normally loved. When she grimaced at the sight of his wife’s famous lasagna and instead picked at a simple salad, he raised an eyebrow. He had seen it before, four times with his own wife, and the theory formed in his mind almost instantly.

It was the little things: how she leaned into Dieter when she thought no one was looking, resting her head on his shoulder like she couldn’t quite keep herself upright; the way her laughter was softer, tinged with something almost nervous. She hadn’t touched a drop of wine the entire evening, claiming she wasn’t in the mood, which was unlike her—especially when Dieter’s mom brought out her favorite bottle from the cellar.

Dieter’s dad observed quietly, piecing together the signs with a mix of curiosity and growing certainty. He knew better than to jump to conclusions, but every instinct told him that there was more to her recent sickness than a simple bug.

–

Later that evening, after dinner, Dieter and his father found themselves outside on the patio. The chill in the air was biting, and Dieter’s breath formed little puffs of smoke as he lit a cigarette, the faint glow of the ember flickering in the dark. He offered one to his dad, who simply shook his head, declining as usual. They settled into an easy silence, the kind that came from years of shared moments like these, watching the yard stretch out before them, dotted with twinkling Christmas lights that cast a warm, festive glow over the familiar landscape.

Dieter took a long drag, savoring the brief buzz of nicotine, and leaned back in his chair. It was quiet, the kind of quiet that always made him think too much, but tonight he welcomed it. He glanced sideways at his dad, whose face was half-lit by the soft glow of the porch light, lost in thought as he nursed his coffee.

“You know, son,” his father said finally, breaking the silence, “I couldn’t help but notice something about her tonight.”

Dieter raised an eyebrow, curiosity piqued. “Yeah? Like what?”

His father hesitated, his expression thoughtful as he swirled the coffee in his mug. “She’s been feeling under the weather, hasn’t she? Seems a bit off.”

Dieter nodded, taking another drag and blowing out the smoke in a slow stream. “Yeah, she’s been sick for a couple of weeks. Picky about food, which isn’t like her. She’s basically living on those pesto chicken paninis. She can’t keep much else down.”

His father chuckled softly, the sound low and knowing, like he was recalling something long ago. “Huh. That’s interesting. Reminds me of your mom back in the day.”

Dieter frowned, glancing over at him. “What do you mean?”

There was a pause, and his father’s eyes stayed fixed on the yard, lost in a memory that Dieter couldn’t quite place. Finally, he spoke, his tone careful, almost gentle. “Have you considered she might be pregnant?”

Dieter’s reaction was instant—he snorted, nearly choking on his cigarette smoke as he laughed it off, but the sound was more nervous than amused. “Pregnant? Nah, no way. She’s got an IUD. Besides, we’ve been careful.”

His father smiled, but it wasn’t condescending. It was the kind of smile that spoke of experience, of having lived through more than one surprise in his lifetime. “IUDs aren’t foolproof, son. Nothing is. And I’ve seen those signs before. Aversions, fatigue, the way she looked at food tonight… I saw it with your mother every time she was pregnant.”

Dieter’s laugh faded, replaced by an uncomfortable tightness in his chest. He ran a hand through his hair, tugging slightly at the ends as his mind raced. “You’re serious?”

“Look, I’m not saying she is,” his father said, raising his hands in a small gesture of surrender. “But I’ve been around this long enough to know the signs when I see them. I’m just saying, it’s possible.”

Dieter stared out at the yard, the once comforting sight now blurred by the thoughts colliding in his mind. He tried to dismiss it, to chalk it up to his dad’s habit of overanalyzing things. But suddenly, every little moment from the past few weeks replayed in his head like a reel he couldn’t pause: the way she’d cried over soup earlier that evening, overwhelmed by finally finding something she could eat; the quiet, tired smiles; the sudden need to rest her head on his shoulder whenever she got the chance. Dieter had brushed it off as just a rough patch—nothing serious, nothing that couldn’t be fixed with rest and time.

But now, hearing his father say it out loud, it all started to click. The missed meals, the strange cravings, her emotional reactions to things that normally wouldn’t faze her. It was like putting together a puzzle he didn’t even know he was working on.

“What do I do if you’re right?” Dieter finally asked, his voice low, tinged with a mix of fear and something else he couldn’t quite name.

His father took another sip of his coffee, considering his son carefully. “You talk to her. Find out for sure. And whatever the outcome, you handle it together. That’s what this is, Dieter. Marriage, family—it's not about knowing every answer. It’s about facing it together, no matter how unexpected it is.”

Dieter nodded, though his mind was still reeling. He didn’t know if he was ready for what his father was suggesting, but one thing was clear: he needed to talk to her. His dad’s words hung heavy in the cold night air, and suddenly, the easygoing world Dieter had grown comfortable in felt a little less certain.

–

That night, back in their room at Dieter’s parents’ house, the tension lingered like a thick fog. They were staying for the weekend, and though the familiarity of the guest room usually felt comforting, tonight it felt like the walls were closing in. Dieter sprawled out on the bed, flipping through channels on the TV without really watching. His mind was a mess of half-formed thoughts, circling back to the conversation with his father, and he couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling gnawing at him.

She was curled up next to him, absorbed in her Kindle, but every so often, Dieter noticed her shifting slightly, like she couldn’t quite get comfortable. He glanced at her from the corner of his eye, trying to figure out how to bring up what was weighing on him without sounding like he’d lost his mind.

“So, funny story,” Dieter started, forcing a lightness into his tone that he didn’t feel. “My dad has this theory. He thinks you might be pregnant.”

She looked up from her Kindle, her brow furrowing as she processed his words. “What? Where’d that come from?”

“Yeah, I know,” Dieter laughed, though it sounded more nervous than amused. He fidgeted with the remote, clicking through channels too fast to see what was on. “He’s been watching you tonight, noticing stuff. You know, the food aversions and all that. He said something about it reminding him of when my mom was pregnant.”

She blinked, staring at him like she wasn’t sure if he was joking or serious. “That’s… random. I mean, it’s just paninis and iced coffee. And I’ve been stressed, that’s all. I mean, I have an IUD.”

“Yeah, that’s what I told him,” Dieter said, shrugging. “I told him it’s not possible, right? But he kept going on about how those things aren’t foolproof and—”

She cut him off, her laugh sharp and a little shaky. “No, yeah, of course. It’s just… I mean, we’ve been careful. I thought…”

Dieter raised an eyebrow, a playful smirk crossing his lips. “Careful? Are we really?” He gave her a knowing look, recalling their many reckless moments. “I mean, I lost count of the times we said, ‘eh, what’s the worst that could happen?’”

She groaned, burying her face in her hands, but she couldn’t hide the grin peeking through. “Oh God, don’t remind me. You said it’d be fine because ‘science, baby!’”

“Yeah, classic me,” Dieter laughed, feeling the tension break just a little. “Maybe our ‘science’ needs some workshopping.”

They chuckled, genuinely amused by their own recklessness. For a moment, it felt like any other night, just the two of them joking around like they always did. But then the laughter faded, and the unspoken possibility lingered, nudging at the back of their minds.

Dieter hesitated, then set the remote down, his voice dropping to a softer, more vulnerable tone. “IUDs aren’t a hundred percent, you know.”

She didn’t say anything right away, her eyes locked on him as if searching for some reassurance he couldn’t quite give. Finally, she set her Kindle aside, pulling her knees up to her chest. “Do you think… do you think he’s right?”

The question hung in the air, too big to ignore, and neither of them moved. Dieter rubbed the back of his neck, his mind racing. “I don’t know, baby. But we could… find out.”

She nodded, her breath hitching slightly, and they didn’t wait to talk themselves out of it. The drive to the pharmacy was tense and quiet, but the nervous energy turned into something almost comical when they got inside. Dieter, trying to look inconspicuous in his cap and mask, accidentally grabbed a COVID test from the shelf and tossed it in the basket without looking.

She glanced at it, biting back a laugh. “Dee, unless you’re worried I’ve got a pandemic brewing, I think you grabbed the wrong kind of test.”

“What?” He squinted at the box, his eyes widening. “Oh, shit. I just saw ‘test’ and panicked. Could you imagine? ‘Congratulations, you’re… COVID positive!��”

They both snorted, trying to suppress their laughter as they swapped it out for a pile of pregnancy tests. “At least we’re wearing masks,” she quipped, trying to hide her nerves behind the humor.

Dieter nodded, their masks pulling at their grins as they paid quickly and slipped back out into the night. Back in their room, she took the tests into Dieter’s private bathroom, thankful she didn’t have to make the awkward walk down the hallway past his nephews, who were still glued to the PlayStation. Dieter paced the room, his anxiety growing with every passing second. He could hear the faint sounds of her moving in the bathroom—running water, the crinkle of plastic, the sound of her soft sighs—and each noise sent a jolt of unease through him.

He ran his hands through his hair, messing it up even more, his mind racing with a thousand thoughts. What if his dad was right? What if they were really about to become parents? He didn’t know how to do this—any of it. He wasn’t cut out to be a dad. Hell, he could barely take care of himself most days. But then he thought about her, about the way she used to talk about wanting a family, back in the early days of their friendship, years before they got married. She’d share those dreams in the quiet moments when they were lying in bed, late at night, her voice soft and wistful as she painted a picture of a life she wanted someday—one with kids, a messy house full of love, and mornings that started with chaos and ended with bedtime stories.

He hadn’t heard her talk about it in a long time, not since they’d crossed the line from best friends to whatever it was they’d become now. They hadn’t really discussed it after they got married, like the possibility had just been a footnote in their drunken Vegas vows, not something real. But Dieter knew she probably still wanted it, that deep down, those dreams hadn’t gone away, just tucked themselves into a quieter part of her heart.

And now, for the first time, Dieter let himself admit what he’d been denying all along—he wanted it, too. He tried to fight it, tried to tell himself he was still the same guy who didn’t want to be tied down, but the truth was, he’d settled down the moment he said “I do.” And now… he’s sure he’s ready to dream of that life, too. The one where they weren’t just figuring things out as they went but actually working towards something together, as husband and wife, as mom and dad.

Finally, the bathroom door creaked open, and she stepped out, her face pale and her hands trembling slightly. She didn’t have to say anything; Dieter could see the truth in her eyes. Without a word, he followed her into the bathroom, and there they were, lined up on the counter: five pregnancy tests, each one showing two clear lines.

Positive. All of them.

Dieter stared at the tests, his mouth opening and closing as he tried to find something, anything, to say. He could hear her breathing beside him, shallow and uneven, and he knew her heart was pounding just as hard as his. She swallowed, her eyes fixed on the tests as if they might change if she stared long enough.

She finally broke the silence, her voice small but steady. “It’s okay, Dieter. You don’t have to worry about it. I’ll… I’ll take care of it.”

–

Her words snapped Dieter back to reality, his brows furrowing as he tried to grasp what she meant. He watched her walk past him out of the bathroom, her movements brisk and determined, but there was a tremble in her step that made his stomach drop. She went straight to the dresser, grabbing her phone with a familiar sense of purpose. Dieter followed, his confusion mounting as she dialed a number with shaky hands.

“What are you doing?” Dieter asked, his voice edged with growing alarm. “Who are you calling in the middle of the night?”

She glanced at him but didn’t answer directly. “It’s fine, Dee. I’m going to take care of it.”

The line clicked, and a familiar voice filled the silence—one of her friends, an OB-GYN Dieter had met several times at dinner parties and gatherings. “Hey, I’m sorry to call so late,” she said into the phone, her voice tight but controlled. “I need another favor.”

Dieter’s heart sank as he heard the gasp on the other end. The doctor’s voice wavered, filled with concern. “Are you sure? I mean… are you really sure about this?”

Dieter watched her, still trying to catch up, but he could hear the tension in the doctor’s voice and the weight of what was being asked. She glanced at him, her eyes meeting his, and in that moment, Dieter felt like the ground was slipping out from under him. “I’m sure,” she said quietly. “I’ll wait for the prescription in the morning.”

She ended the call and set the phone down, her hand trembling. Dieter felt his shock morphing into a hot, simmering anger, his chest tightening as he tried to make sense of what he’d just heard. “What?” he asked, his voice rising, desperate to believe he’d misheard. “What prescription? Prenatal vitamins?” He was trying to hold onto some hope, clinging to the possibility that this wasn’t what it seemed, that she wasn’t about to make a decision without him. But deep down, he knew.

She sighed, biting her lower lip, her eyes brimming with unshed tears. She opened her mouth to speak, but the words seemed to catch in her throat. Dieter could see her knees wobble, and before he could process it, she was leaning against the side table, her legs barely holding her up. He rushed to her, guiding her gently to the bed and kneeling before her, his anger wavering as he saw the look in her eyes.

Tears streamed down her face, silent and relentless, and Dieter realized it was the first time he’d seen her cry in years. Not since her father had passed, not even when she’d broken up with someone he knew she had loved deeply. She was always so strong, so composed, but now she was trembling, and all she could manage were soft, broken apologies. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, her voice cracking as she repeated it over and over. “I’m so, so sorry.”

Dieter’s anger melted away, replaced by a sharp pain that pierced his chest. He reached up, cupping her face gently, wiping away the tears that continued to fall. “Hey, hey, calm down, okay? Just… baby, please… can you tell me what that was all about?”

She nodded, her breath hitching as she tried to collect herself. The silence between them was tense, heavy with unspoken fears and the weight of what was happening. Finally, she spoke, her voice small and wavering. “I know you don’t want kids, Dieter. I’ve known that from the start, and I respect that. I love you so much, and I know I don’t say it often, but I do. I love the life we have together. And I didn’t… I didn’t want to ruin that.”

Dieter listened, the words sinking in, but every syllable felt like a sting. “You’re not ruining anything, baby,” he said, his voice softer now but still edged with confusion and hurt. “But you didn’t even… I mean, we didn’t even talk about it.”

She looked down, her tears falling faster now. “I was afraid to. You’ve always been so clear, and I didn’t want to make you feel trapped. I know kids were never part of the plan. I didn’t want to put that on you.”

Dieter took a deep breath, his mind still reeling, but he tried to keep his voice steady. “You’re not–Jesus…I understand why you feel this way baby…” he said gently, squeezing her hands. “And I’m sorry we never talked about it before, not even once. I know I said I didn’t want kids, and I thought that was it. But… then…” He sighed deeply… “W-we should at least talk about it before you go and get that prescription in the morning.”

She looked up at him, her eyes wide and glistening with tears, clearly caught between fear and guilt. “Dieter, I—”

“No, listen,” he interrupted softly, his tone calm but firm. “I want you to know that whatever you decide, I’ll support you. I’ll stand by you no matter what. But I need to know that if you go through with this, it’s because you want to, not because you think it’s what I want. I respect you, and I love you. And yeah, maybe I’ve always been afraid of having kids, but I also know you’ve wanted this. I’ve known for years, and I’m sorry we’ve never talked about it since getting married. But maybe… maybe now’s the time we should.”

She shook her head, biting her lip to keep it from trembling. “I don’t want to pop our bubble, Dieter. I’ve spent so long thinking that if I brought this up, it would be too much for you. You’ve said it before—kids are overwhelming, right? And I get it. Hell, the thought of it overwhelms me, too. But it’s different for you. I didn’t want to lose you. I love you so much, Dee. I love what we have. And I was scared that… that if I bring it up, it would drive you away.”

Dieter’s heart ached as he watched her, the weight of her words sinking in. “Baby, I’m not going anywhere,” he said, his voice cracking slightly. “But you can’t just… handle this alone. Not for me.”

She took a shaky breath, the truth finally spilling out in the soft, halting words she’d kept buried. “That’s why I got the IUD. A few months after we got married… after I found out I was pregnant. You were away in London for that shoot, and I was alone. And I—” She paused, choking back a sob as she struggled to get the words out. “I panicked. I was terrified of what it would mean for us, for you, for everything. So, I… I took care of it. I didn’t want to burden you with it, and I thought I was doing the right thing.”

Dieter’s face went pale, his expression shifting from shock to something more profound—hurt, confusion, and an aching sadness that he didn’t quite know how to process. His hold on her hands went slack. He hadn’t been there. He hadn’t known. While he was away, filming scenes and living the life he thought he wanted, she had been here, facing a reality that should have been theirs to share.

“You—” Dieter started, standing up, trying to say something but the words caught in his throat. “You did that… without telling me?”

She nodded, tears streaming down her cheeks. “I didn’t know how to tell you, Dee. You were gone, and I was scared. I didn’t want you to feel trapped or forced into something you never wanted. I thought it was better that way.”

Dieter’s mind raced as he tried to grasp what she was saying. He ran a hand down his face, cupping his mouth as he took in a long drag of air. The anger he’d felt earlier had melted into something more painful, something that cut deeper than he expected. He’d never wanted this, but now, faced with the reality that they’d lost something before it had even begun, Dieter felt a profound sense of grief for what could have been—and for what he still had a chance to fight for.

He swallowed hard, his voice breaking as he spoke. “I wish you’d told me. I wish you hadn’t gone through all that alone. I know I’m not perfect, and I know I’ve said a lot of shit about not wanting kids, but… I want you. And if you want this—if you want us to have this—then I want it, too. But you have to be sure. This isn’t just about me. It’s us, and we can’t keep pretending it’s not.”

She looked at him, her eyes searching his face for any sign of hesitation, but all she saw was the man who had always been there, even when they hadn’t known what the hell they were doing. Dieter knelt before her, his hands steady on her knees, offering her the quiet reassurance she’d been afraid to ask for. They were scared, both of them, but for the first time, it felt like they were scared together.

A heavy silence stretched between them, thick with the weight of everything unsaid. She stared down at her trembling hands, struggling to hold back the tears that threatened to spill over. Finally, she broke the quiet, her voice small and cracking under the strain. “I understand if you want a divorce, Dieter.” Tears began to roll down her cheeks again, and she looked up at him, and he could feel and see the pain and resignation in them. “I’d give it to you, you know. If that’s what it takes for you to live your truth. If it means you get to live the life you always wanted—not something complicated by a kid and a wife.”

Dieter’s breath caught in his throat, and he shook his head, trying to grasp the gravity of what she was saying. “What? No… what are you talking about? Divorce? That’s not—”

“I don’t want to trap you, Dee,” she interrupted, her voice quivering. “I never wanted you to feel stuck. At least if we divorce, I get to keep my baby, and you get to live your life. We both get what we want.” She said it with a heartbreaking kind of finality, her gaze dropping as though she couldn’t bear to look at him.

Hearing her say “her baby” like that shattered something inside Dieter. He could feel his chest tighten as his emotions boiled over, hot tears streaming down his face. “You think that’s what I want?” he whispered, his voice breaking as he tried to keep it down. They were still in his parents’ house, and he didn’t want anyone hearing this, but he couldn’t keep the hurt out of his words. “You think I want to live some half-assed life without you? Without… our baby?”

She flinched at his words, torn between the guilt and the love she still felt for him. “Dieter, you’ve always said—”

“I know what I’ve said!” Dieter snapped, his voice rising before he caught himself. He pressed a fist to his mouth, trying to stifle the sobs that threatened to break free. “God, I’ve been so fucked up. So caught up in what I thought I wanted, what I told everyone I didn’t want. I never… I never told you how much I love you. How much I need you. And now you’re willing to sacrifice everything because of me? Because I’m too much of a mess to communicate? That’s not fair, baby. That’s on me.”

She looked away, blinking back tears as she tried to keep her voice steady. “It’s not about blame, Dieter. I can’t live with the guilt of not giving you the chance to have the life you deserve. I’d rather… I’d rather set you free than see you stuck in something you don’t want. I love you too much for that.”

Dieter shook his head, his shoulders slumping as the enormity of her words hit him. He didn’t know how to make her understand. “But I don’t want to be free,” he said, almost pleading. “I don’t want any of this without you. I’ve spent my whole life running from everything—commitment, responsibility, you name it. But not you. Not us. You… you made me realize I could be more than that.”

She listened, her heart breaking with every word. “I don’t want to be unfair, Dee. I’ve spent so long dreaming about this—about being a mom. And I know kids were never part of your dream, and I just… I don’t want to take that from you.”

Dieter wiped his eyes, his voice hoarse and desperate. “You’re not taking anything from me. Please, don’t do this. Don’t make decisions for me. You’ve always been my partner, my equal… baby, you make me want to be a better person… whatever the hell that looks like…”

She let out a shaky laugh through her tears, reaching up to cup his face. “I just… I didn’t want to pop our bubble. It’s been so perfect, even with all the chaos. And the thought of losing that, of losing you in such a way… it scares me more than anything.”

Dieter’s sobs turned to quiet laughter, a broken sound that mirrored the bittersweetness of the moment. “You think I’m not scared? I’ve been scared of fucking everything my whole life, and you were the one person who made me think I didn’t have to be. You’re my team, baby. We’re a damn good one. And I know that if we have this kid… our kid… we’d be amazing parents, too.”

She looked at him, her tears finally slowing, replaced by a fragile smile that made Dieter’s heartache. “I just don’t want to be unfair,” she whispered, her voice soft but sincere.

“You’re not being unfair,” Dieter said, his tone tender but firm. “Please, just… reconsider. Our relationship, our marriage… our baby. Let’s figure it out together. No more guessing what the other person wants.”

She nodded, her eyes locking with his, and for the first time since the night had started, she felt a glimmer of hope. They were both terrified, still reeling from everything that had come to light, but at least now, they were facing it together, no more secrets, no more hiding. Just the two of them and the uncertain but hopeful future with a baby they were ready to build.

–

The next morning was Christmas, and despite the whirlwind of emotions that had unfolded the night before, Dieter and his wife had decided to keep their news to themselves for now. It was too early—too new, too precious, and far too complicated to try to explain just yet. They put on their best smiles, exchanged gifts with his family, and managed to get through the morning without giving anything away.

As soon as they left his parents’ house, they headed straight to her OB-GYN’s office. Dieter squeezed her hand in the waiting room, both of them tense but trying to stay calm. When the doctor finally confirmed the news—they were eight weeks along—it felt both real and surreal at the same time. They were both relieved and overwhelmed, knowing it was still too early to tell anyone, too early for announcements, but their hearts were already full of the possibility.

Back at their house, Dieter immediately started making little changes, moving things around and insisting on turning one of the guest rooms into a nursery. “This room gets the best light,” he said, gesturing animatedly as they stood in the empty space, still filled with random furniture and boxes they hadn’t sorted through. “We can do a crib over here, maybe a rocking chair by the window… Oh, and I saw this thing on Pinterest—don’t laugh—about these little wall decals, like stars and moons. We could do a whole sky theme.”

She watched him, leaning against the doorframe, a soft smile tugging at her lips. “I didn’t even know you had a Pinterest account.”

Dieter turned, shrugging sheepishly. “What? I like my aesthetics.”

She laughed, her heart swelling at the sight of him so invested. It was like watching a kid with a new project, and she couldn’t help but feel a little lighter. “You’re really into this, huh?”

He looked at her, eyes sparkling with an excitement that was infectious. “Yeah, I am. What’s so funny?”

She shook her head, still smiling. “Nothing, it’s just… I never thought I’d see the day when Dieter Bravo is this excited about becoming a dad.”

Dieter’s expression softened, and he crossed the room, wrapping his arms around her. “Well, get used to it, baby. I’m all in.”

As the days passed, they began to settle into this new phase of their life together, their once spontaneous and free-spirited existence slowly evolving without them even realizing it. They had always been people of the moment, living day to day with little thought of what came next. Before, their conversations rarely drifted beyond the present—they were about last-minute weekend trips, late-night takeout, or whatever wild idea Dieter would come up with next. The future was never really on the table, not in a serious way. They thrived on spontaneity, on the freedom of not being tied down by plans or expectations.

But now, there was a subtle but undeniable shift in the air between them. It wasn’t something they talked about directly, but rather something that quietly settled in, like a warm, comforting blanket. Their conversations began to naturally drift into what was coming, not just what was happening now. They found themselves talking about baby names over breakfast, Dieter suggesting offbeat, quirky names that made her laugh while she countered with more classic choices that she’d always dreamed of, being the writer that she is and her love for literature.

Dieter would randomly pull out his phone to show her baby gear he’d found online, everything from the practical to the absurdly adorable. “Look at this stroller, baby. It’s got all-terrain wheels! Imagine us taking the kid hiking. Okay, maybe not hiking, but, you know… walking down a slightly uneven sidewalk.”

She’d laugh, watching him with a kind of fondness that was new, soft, and overwhelming. She’d catch him in the nursery sometimes, hunched over with a tape measure, making notes and sketches of where things should go. He was planning—actually planning—and it warmed her in a way she couldn’t quite describe.

One afternoon, she found him kneeling on the floor, surrounded by paint samples and wallpaper swatches, muttering to himself about whether to go with the pale blue or the pastel purple. “I don’t know, do you think clouds are too cliché? What if we did something more abstract? Like a sky, but, like, artsy. You know, like, dreamland stuff.”

She leaned against the doorframe, a smile playing at her lips. “Dieter Bravo, debating interior design for a nursery. Who would’ve thought?”

He looked up, his grin boyish and bright. “I know, right? Next, I’ll be on HGTV. ‘Bravo’s Baby Rooms.’ It’ll be a hit.”

She rolled her eyes, but her heart swelled with something deeper. They were still them, still the same pair who’d decided to get married on a whim in Vegas, who’d spent years living in the moment and rarely looking ahead. But now, the future wasn’t something scary or overwhelming. It was something they were building together, brick by brick, conversation by conversation.

Sometimes, in the quiet moments, she would find herself lying awake at night, her hand resting on the small swell of her belly, feeling the gentle flutters of life within her. Dieter would be next to her, snoring softly, and she’d just listen, soaking in the warmth of their home. She realized then how much had changed between them—how they’d gone from two people floating through life, clinging to the present, to a couple that was starting to dream together.

It wasn’t just about the baby, though that was the catalyst. It was the way their whole world had shifted, gently guiding them toward a future that felt bright and full of possibility.

Their once spontaneous, fly-by-the-seat-of-your-pants relationship was evolving into something richer, something that made space for plans and hopes. She’d catch Dieter browsing parenting books or obsessively researching the best baby monitors, and each time, she couldn’t help but feel a surge of love she hadn’t quite known before.

It wasn’t forced or awkward; it was the most natural thing in the world, like breathing. They were still the same Dieter and his wife, the quirky mystery novel writer—impulsive, playful, unorthodox in every way—but now, their lives together carried an undercurrent of something… warmer, softer, and a little more planned than usual.

One evening, she was curled up on the couch, cozy under a thick, soft blanket, her Kindle in one hand and the other resting gently on the small but noticeable bump of her belly. She’d grown accustomed to the comforting weight of her growing child. Dieter strolled in from the kitchen, carrying a bowl of popcorn, and dropped onto the couch beside her with a contented sigh.

“You look way too comfortable,” she teased, nudging him playfully with her foot, a smile tugging at her lips as she watched him sink into the cushions like he belonged there.

“I am,” Dieter said, settling in beside her and resting his head against her shoulder. He let out a contented sigh, his eyes drifting down to her bump, and his hand found hers, resting warmly over the swell of her belly. “I love this. I love everything about this.”

She chuckled, her fingers absentmindedly tracing soft circles on her belly, feeling the little flutters of movement beneath her skin. “You always loved kids, Dee. I know that. I just… I never thought I’d live to see the day when you’d actually be a dad.”

Dieter’s smile softened, and tears welled in his eyes as he scooted closer, wrapping his arms around her and pressing his face into her chest. She could feel the quiet, vulnerable sobs shaking his shoulders, and it melted her heart. “You’re making my deepest, darkest dreams come true, baby,” he mumbled, his voice muffled by her warmth, words spilling out with raw sincerity.

She laughed, tilting her head back as she ruffled his hair affectionately. “I thought your deepest, darkest dreams that I made come true involved a strap-on, Bravo.”

Dieter snorted, lifting his head just enough to flash her a cheeky grin. Without missing a beat, he buried his face into her chest, playfully motorboating her. She squealed, swatting at his head as they both dissolved into laughter, tangled together on the couch.

“God, you’re such a perv,” she giggled, half-heartedly pushing him away even though she was laughing too hard to mean it.

He finally pulled back, grinning unapologetically as he reached up and cupped one of her breasts, squeezing playfully. “Honk honk,” he said, eyes twinkling with mischief.

She rolled her eyes, shaking her head but unable to keep a straight face. “Dieter, you’re ridiculous.”

“I know,” he said, still chuckling as he leaned in to kiss her softly.

“I love you, mama.” He whispered against her mouth.

–

As days turned into weeks, they found themselves back at the doctor’s office for the 20-week scan. The drive there was tense, filled with nervous silence and half-hearted attempts at small talk that did little to mask their growing anxiety. Dieter’s usually easygoing demeanor was replaced with restless energy, and she could feel it radiating off him as they sat in the waiting room, both of them on edge.

She sat nervously beside him, her leg bouncing up and down as she stared at the outdated magazines scattered on the table in front of them. Dieter glanced over, noticing the jittery movement. He nudged her lightly with his elbow, offering a crooked smile. “Babe, you’re bouncing your leg like you’re tweaking. Seriously, I’ve been around a lot of meth heads, and you’re giving me flashbacks.”

She snorted, covering her mouth as a burst of laughter escaped, her nerves momentarily easing. “I can’t help it, okay? This is… I’m freaking out.”

Dieter reached over, his fingers lacing through hers as he squeezed gently. “I get it, but you gotta chill. You’re acting like you’re on something, and trust me, I know that vibe.” He gave her hand another reassuring squeeze. “You’ve gotta stop reading all those Reddit posts. They’re nothing but horror stories.”

She nodded, though she still looked pale, her eyes flicking around the room as if searching for something to distract herself. “I know, I just… I can’t help it. I’ve read too many stories about 20-week scans going wrong. What if something’s wrong, Dieter? I don’t think I can handle it.”

Dieter leaned in closer, brushing a kiss against her temple. “Hey, nothing’s wrong. Our kid’s strong. Just like you. Baby’s gonna be fine, okay? Let’s just breathe.”

They were finally called into the scan room, and the doctor greeted them with a warm smile, chatting casually as she prepared the machine. “How are we feeling today? Ready to see this little one?” she asked, her voice calm and reassuring as she applied the cool gel to her belly. Dieter stood by her side, holding her hand tightly, both of them staring at the monitor with bated breath.

The doctor moved the wand over her stomach, her brows knitting slightly as she searched the screen, waiting for a heartbeat. At first, there was nothing—just static silence, the absence of that familiar, rhythmic thump that they both so desperately wanted to hear. The doctor adjusted the wand, repositioning and angling it slightly, her expression remaining neutral but focused.

Dieter could feel his wife’s grip tighten, her fingers digging into his, and he squeezed back, his own heart pounding. “Is everything okay?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper, laced with fear.

The doctor glanced at them, her smile reassuring but a little strained. “Sometimes the baby’s in a tricky position so it’s hard to get the heartbeat. Let’s just give it a moment.” She moved the wand again, her eyes flicking between the screen and her belly as she pressed a bit harder, trying to get a better view.

But the silence lingered, and the tension in the room grew thicker. Dieter could feel his pulse racing, his mind going a mile a minute. He tried to keep calm, tried to joke, but his voice came out strained.

“Kid’s already messing with us, huh? Definitely takes after me.”

It falls flat, and he frowns deeper.

The doctor’s brows furrowed as she moved the wand slowly, deliberately, the silence stretching on until it was almost unbearable. “Come on, little one,” she murmured under her breath, adjusting the machine again.

She glanced at Dieter and his wife, reading the fear on their faces. “I know it’s nerve-wracking, but try not to panic. This happens sometimes.” The words were meant to soothe, but each passing second felt like an eternity, and Dieter felt like the walls were closing in.

Suddenly, the doctor paused, her eyes widening slightly. “Oh—hold on. I think I forgot to turn on the sound.” She reached over and pressed a button on the machine, and instantly, the room filled with the steady, reassuring thump of their baby’s heartbeat, clear and strong.

Dieter and his wife both let out a collective sigh of relief, laughing shakily as the tension broke. “Oh my god,” she breathed, her head falling back against the table as she squeezed Dieter’s hand. “You just shaved ten years off my life.”

The doctor chuckled, her face apologetic. “I’m so sorry about that. It happens more often than you’d think.” She moved the wand slightly, showing them their baby on the screen. “There we go. Heartbeat is strong, and baby looks perfect.”

Dieter let out a shaky laugh, wiping at his eyes as he glanced at his wife. “Kid’s already got us on edge. I guess that’s just payback for all the years I’ve been a handful.”

They all shared a brief, much-needed laugh, the tension slowly melting away. But the doctor’s expression turned a bit more serious as she continued to move the wand, examining the screen with careful precision. She began marking key areas on the screen, capturing images and making notes as she went. “Now, remember, this is your 20-week scan,” she said, her tone gentle but factual. “This is an important one because it’s when we check for congenital anomalies. We’ll be looking closely at your baby’s organs and development to make sure everything is on track.”

Dieter and his wife nodded, their earlier relief tempered by the weight of what the doctor was saying. This wasn’t just about hearing the heartbeat; it was about seeing if their baby was healthy, if everything was developing the way it should. The room fell quiet again, the soft whir of the machine the only sound as the doctor carefully scanned each part of their baby’s tiny body, capturing and saving images to review.

“We’re looking at the brain and skull,” the doctor explained, pointing to the image on the screen as she took a snapshot. “The structures look well-formed, and everything is measuring normally.” She moved the wand again, pausing over the baby’s chest and marking the image. “And here’s the heart. We’re checking for proper function, looking at the chambers and blood flow. So far, everything looks great.”

Dieter squeezed his wife’s hand, the feeling of both awe and anxiety filling the cavity of his chest. Every tiny movement on the screen felt monumental, every word from the doctor a lifeline. The doctor continued, showing them the spine, the kidneys, the limbs—every detail scrutinized with care and captured for documentation.

“And here’s the stomach and the diaphragm. We’re looking for normal positioning and function,” she said, moving methodically, her voice steady and calm. “All good signs here.” She took another image, marking it on the screen with a series of measurements.

Dieter’s wife squeezed his hand, her eyes locked on the screen, watching their baby’s tiny fingers flex and curl. “Is that… is that the baby’s hand?” she asked, her voice soft, filled with wonder.

“Yes, it is,” the doctor smiled, zooming in on the tiny hand and capturing the image. “Five fingers, all accounted for.”

They watched in silence, their emotions swinging from relief to fear and back again with every scan of the baby’s developing organs. The doctor’s voice was steady, reassuring them as she checked for any signs of congenital anomalies. Each confirmation that everything was normal felt like a small victory, a breath they didn’t realize they were holding.

“Everything looks normal and healthy,” the doctor finally said, pulling back and saving the last image. “Your baby is developing beautifully.”

Dieter and his wife both let out breaths they hadn’t realized they were holding, their hands still clasped tightly together. It wasn’t just relief—it was gratitude, to the doctor and the universe, for keeping their little bun healthy.

They thanked the doctor, their voices filled with a concoction of relief, exhaustion, and overwhelming joy. As they left the office, they felt lighter, buoyed by the knowledge that their baby was safe and thriving. There’s only one thing for them to do now: start telling their family and friends.

–

“You okay?” Dieter asked, his voice gentle as they pulled into his parents’ driveway. The house looked warm and welcoming, draped in fairy lights that twinkled against the evening sky, but she couldn’t quite shake the tightness in her chest.

She nodded, but it was automatic, her mind racing with thoughts she hadn’t fully processed, and her tears just started spilling like clockwork. “Yeah, I’m fine. It’s just… it’s a lot, you know? Your parents are going to be so happy, and I—I don’t have that anymore. I don’t have anyone to tell.” She tried to laugh it off, her voice catching slightly, wiping at her eyes with the back of her hand. “God, listen to me. I’m such a mess. It’s probably just hormones.”

Dieter squeezed her hand, his expression softening. He knew how much she missed her dad, how his absence lingered in moments like these. “It’s not just hormones, baby,” he said gently, his thumb brushing over her knuckles. “You’re allowed to feel this. I wish your dad was here, too. I think about it all the time—how proud he’d be, how he’d probably be spoiling you right now.”

She let out a shaky breath, “It’s stupid, but it just hit me today, you know? Like, he was the only family I had, and now… I guess I thought I was past all this. But it’s different now. This is so big, and I feel like I’m missing that piece.”

Dieter pulled her hand up, kissing her knuckles softly. “It’s not stupid. And you’re not without parents completely. My parents love you—hell, they might love you more than they love me. They text you more than they text me, anyway.”

She let out a laugh, and it felt good, a brief moment of lightness breaking through the weight in her chest. “They do, don’t they? They’re always sending me recipes, cute cat and dog vides, and asking for book recommendations. Meanwhile, you get the ‘how’s your liver?’ texts.”

Dieter grinned, happy to see her smile even through tears. “Exactly. Trust me, they’re going to be over the moon about this. You’re their family, too. And yeah, it’s big—it’s bigger than anything we’ve done—but you don’t have to carry that alone. My parents, they’re gonna be here, every annoying, loving step of the way.”

She squeezed his hand, feeling a little more grounded. “Thanks, babe. I needed that.”

Dieter nodded, his own emotions bubbling under the surface. He knew how hard this was for her, and he wanted to make sure she never felt like she was alone in this. “Hey, we’re in this together. And we’re about to make their year, so let’s go in there and give them something to celebrate.”

They stepped out of the car, hand in hand, and walked up to the front door. She adjusted her coat, feeling the weight of the moment settle in her chest, but Dieter squeezed her hand reassuringly. They’d been parked for a while, gathering themselves, and now it was time. Dieter knocked, and within seconds, the door swung open.

Dieter’s mother stood there, her expression a mix of concern and relief. “Oh, there you are! We were starting to get worried—you’ve been sitting out there for ages. I thought maybe something was wrong.”

“Everything’s fine,” Dieter assured her, giving her a quick hug. “We were just… talking.”

His mom nodded, though she kept glancing between them, still a little uncertain. “It’s so good to see you two! Come in, come in.”

Dieter’s father was in the living room, setting out coffee and cookies on the table. He looked up, grinning in his usual dry way. “Hey, you two. What’s this? I thought you’d be busy writing another bestseller or maybe dragging Dieter around to get some culture.”

Dieter laughed, shaking his head. “Well, it’s not that, but it’s something just as good.”

His wife exchanged a quick look with him, her nerves sparking up again. Dieter, sensing her hesitation, gave her an encouraging smile and gently reached up to help her with her coat. As he slipped it off her shoulders, he draped it neatly over the back of the couch, revealing the gentle curve of her growing bump.

His parents’ eyes widened, and for a second, they both just stared, taking it in. Dieter’s mom’s hand flew to her mouth, her eyes brimming with tears. “Oh my gosh… are you…?”

Dieter’s wife nodded, her voice trembling with a mix of nerves and joy. “We’re having a baby. I’m pregnant.”

For a moment, there was only stunned silence, and then his mom let out a joyous cry, rushing forward to hug her. “Oh, sweetheart! This is the most wonderful news! Look at you—how far along are you? I can’t believe it!”

Dieter’s dad, who usually kept his emotions under wraps, pulled Dieter into a hug, his voice thick with pride. “Son, this is incredible. I can’t tell you how happy I am for you. I’m not sure if you remember this, but there was a time when I wasn’t sure you’d ever get your life together, let alone settle down.”

Dieter blinked, caught off guard by his dad’s words. “Thanks, Dad. That means a lot.” He hesitated, swallowing hard before speaking again. “I know I’ve been a mess, but… I’m really excited about this. I want to do it right.”

His father clapped him on the shoulder, his expression warm. “You’ve already done right by me. You’ve grown up, Dieter, more than I ever thought possible. And now you’re going to be a dad. I couldn’t be prouder.”

They all settled into the living room, Dieter’s mom already buzzing with plans. “Okay, so tell me everything! When’s the due date? How are you feeling? Have you thought about names yet? We have to start planning—oh, and the nursery! We’ll need to paint, get a crib—”

Dieter held up his hands, laughing. “Mom, slow down. You’re going to choke yourself on your own saliva with how fast you’re going. One thing at a time.”

She laughed, waving him off but nodding. “Okay, okay. But this is just… it’s all so exciting. I’ve been waiting for this day for so long, and now it’s finally happening.”

Dieter’s wife smiled, feeling the warmth of Dieter’s mom’s excitement wash over her. “Thank you. Really, I’m so glad we get to share this with you. It’s been a lot to take in, but having you both here means the world.”

Dieter’s mom squeezed her hand, her eyes filled with emotion. “You’re not without parents completely, you know that, right? You’ve got us now. We’re going to be right here with you, every crazy, wonderful moment.”

She nodded, fighting back tears. “I’m so grateful for that. You have no idea.”

Dieter’s dad leaned in, his voice quieter but no less heartfelt. “And I mean it, Dieter. I see the way you are with her, how much you’ve grown. You’ve got this, both of you. And I know you’re going to be amazing parents.”

As they continued to talk, laugh, and make plans, one thing stood out among them– they knew there was so much ahead—so many unknowns, so many firsts—but for now, it was enough to just be together and celebrate this beautiful news.

–

After spending a few hours basking in the joy and warmth of Dieter’s parents, they knew the next step was sharing the news with the rest of the world. It felt like another hurdle, one they were both eager and anxious to jump. They drove back home, feeling the weight of their secret beginning to lift.

Once they were settled on their couch, they knew it was time to tell Dieter’s manager. Dieter pulled out his phone and scrolled through his contacts, glancing over at his wife. “Ready?”

She nodded, though a nervous flutter still twisted in her stomach. “Yeah. Let’s do it.”

Dieter hit the call button, putting it on speaker. His manager picked up on the second ring, his voice chipper and businesslike. “Dieter, my man! What’s up? You ready to talk about the next big project? We’ve got offers coming in like crazy.”

Dieter laughed, exchanging a look with his wife. “Hey, uh, about that… we’ve got something to tell you. It’s kind of a big deal.”

There was a brief pause on the other end, and then his manager’s voice dropped, curious and cautious. “Oh God, are you in trouble again? Do I need to get a lawyer on the line?”

“No, no, nothing like that,” Dieter said quickly, his grin wide. “Actually, it’s the opposite of trouble.”

His wife jumped in, smiling as she spoke. “We’re having a baby.”

The line went quiet for a beat, and then his manager erupted in a cheer. “What? Oh my God! Are you serious? This is amazing! Bravo’s having a baby! You two, this is incredible.”

They laughed, feeling the enthusiasm radiating through the phone. “Yeah, we’re serious,” Dieter said. “We’re excited, and we wanted to let you know before it goes public.”

His manager was still buzzing, the excitement palpable. “You’re going to break the internet with this. But listen, you’ve got to be prepared. This is going to be huge news—your fans, the media, everyone’s going to go nuts. Some good, some bad, you know how it is. But honestly, this is the best news I’ve heard all year.”

They chatted for a few more minutes, exchanging congratulations and discussing the logistics of managing the media frenzy that would inevitably follow. Once they hung up, Dieter turned to her, his eyes bright. “You ready to tell the world?”

She nodded, and together, they crafted a simple but heartfelt post for social media. They chose a candid photo taken that morning, with Dieter’s hand resting protectively over her small bump, both of them smiling with unfiltered joy. The caption read: Our greatest adventure yet. Baby Bravo coming soon.

They hit ‘share,’ and within moments, the post began to explode. Likes, comments, and shares flooded in at a speed that was almost overwhelming. Messages of congratulations poured in from friends, fans, and fellow celebrities. The overwhelming support was heartwarming, and they found themselves caught up in the happiness of it all.

But as the notifications kept coming, there were, of course, some that stung. Dieter scrolled through, his brow furrowing at the inevitable wave of negativity from the corners of his fanbase that couldn’t handle change.

“She’s probably just using him for fame. Classic.”

“Guess Dieter’s fun days are officially over.”

“He doesn’t deserve this. What about all the times he said he didn’t want kids?”

Dieter sighed, shaking his head as he turned off the screen. “I knew there’d be some backlash, but damn. People can be ruthless.”

She took a deep breath, trying to keep her own emotions in check. “I mean, I expected some of it, but it still hurts. I just thought… I don’t know, that people would be happy for us.”

Dieter pulled her into his side, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. “Hey, don’t let them get to you. They don’t know us. They don’t know what we’ve been through to get here. This is our moment, not theirs.”

She nodded, leaning into his comfort. “I know, it’s just… I guess I didn’t expect people to be so… mean. I thought this would be different.”

Dieter kissed her temple, his touch gentle. “Some people will never be happy, babe. But look at all the love we’ve got here.” He pulled up the comments from their closest friends, the ones who knew them beyond the headlines. Messages of support, love, and shared joy filled the screen, reminding them of the people who truly mattered.

“Look at this one,” Dieter said, reading aloud. “‘I always knew you’d be the best parents. Baby Bravo is lucky to have you both.’” He smiled, scrolling down. “And this one—‘I’m so proud of you guys. Can’t wait to meet the little one.’”

She smiled, letting the warmth of those messages push away the sting of the negativity. “I guess we have to focus on that, huh?”

“Exactly,” Dieter said, squeezing her close. “This is our family. Our life. And no one gets to take that away from us.”

They spent the rest of the evening curled up together, ignoring the noise of the outside world and focusing on the love that poured in from those who truly understood. Their phones continued to buzz, and the news spread quickly, but for now, it was just the two of them, dreaming about their future with the baby they were already so deeply in love with.

A few weeks had passed since their announcement, and life had begun to settle into a new kind of normal.

They were still receiving messages of congratulations, along with the occasional snarky comment, but the love outweighed the negativity by miles.

Dieter and his wife had embraced this next phase with open hearts, pouring over baby books, setting up the nursery, and spending quiet moments together, dreaming about the future.

One night, as they sat in the nursery—still half-finished, with paint samples and swatches scattered everywhere—Dieter was busy assembling a crib, grumbling softly as he fumbled with the instructions. His wife sat cross-legged on the floor, watching him with a soft smile, one hand resting on her belly.

“Are you sure you don’t want to wait for your dad to help with that?” she teased, noting his intense focus and the stray bolts lying around.

Dieter looked up, smirking. “Nah, I’ve got it. Besides, I’ve got to prove I can put something together that’s not going to collapse on us. I mean, it’s literally a crib. If I can do this, I can do anything.”

She laughed, watching as he finally managed to fit the pieces together, looking far too proud of himself. He stood back, admiring his handiwork before turning to her, his smile broad and genuine. “See? Told you I’d figure it out.”

She patted the spot beside her on the floor, and he sat down, pulling her into his side. They sat there quietly for a moment, both gazing at the crib—the first tangible piece of their new life together.

“Can you believe this is happening?” she murmured, her voice soft with wonder. “Sometimes it still feels like a dream.”

Dieter nodded, his hand drifting to rest over her bump. “Yeah, I know. I’ve been in a lot of weird dreams, but this… this is the best one. And it’s real.”

She leaned her head on his shoulder, feeling the steady thump of his heartbeat against her cheek. “We’re going to be okay, aren’t we?”

He turned to kiss her forehead, his lips lingering for a moment. “We already are, baby. And it’s only going to get better.”

They stayed like that for a while, wrapped up in the promise of what was to come—messy, beautiful, and entirely theirs.

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nerdieforpedro · 9 months ago

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“Not happening.”

Is what she said before their third date, three packs of Kit Kats and the building of pillow fort. 🥰 It’s just gonna happen.

I love their banter though, they play off each other so well.

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.”

#Nerdie fic rec #dieter bravo #dieter bravo x reader #dieter bravo imagines #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x you #the bubble #pedrostories

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absurdthirst · 22 days ago

Text

Trick or Treat {Dieter Bravo x F!Reader}

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 16.3k

Warnings: Bodyswap AU, groping, masturbation (male and female), drug use, anxiety, oral sex (male and female receiving), vaginal sex, unprotected sex

Comments: At Dieter's annual Halloween Party, you meet a witch. Venting about your unappreciative boss, she decides that you should walk a mile in each other's shoes, only switching back when you make the right choices.

Co-written with @storiesofthefandomlovers

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

|| MasterList || Dieter Bravo MasterList ||

It's Dieter's annual Halloween party and of course, you're stuck managing the catering and the bartenders and the drug dealers - basically overseeing the entire party - to make sure your boss is happy. Forget going out to get drunk and dress up. Every year you are Dieter's assistant turned party planner. The man himself is dressed up as a king. He wanted a comfortable costume and "there's nothing more comfortable than leggings" he had informed you. You sigh as you take a moment to rest, leaning against the wall as the party goers down shots and Dieter's laugh booms across the living room.

"Everything okay?" A woman approaches you, dressed in a witches costume and you think it looks good. Not tacky. Her pendulum sways around her neck and her eyes meet yours, making you want to confess your annoyance.

"I'm good. I - actually, no. I'm not good. My boss...he's a dick. He has no clue what I do for him. He gets to live a life of luxury, meanwhile, I'm running around fulfilling his every wish." You bitch and the woman tilts her head, "do you not think his life is hectic? Busy learning all those lines. Staying up all hours to film. It's not easy." She counters and you snort. "Oh yeah. Reading a fucking line and standing where they tell you. So hard." You scoff, "while I break my back getting him a fucking salad from that place in Goddamn Newport Beach. Traffic and - shit. I- I shouldn't be saying this." You finally catch yourself and she shakes her head. "I can help. Maybe you want him to see how hard it is to be you...maybe you can see how hard it is to be him." She says and you cross your arms, over her not just agreeing with your venting.

"Yeah, sure. He wouldn't survive a day being me. His life? I'd give anything to have it." You confess and she smirks, snapping her fingers in front of your face. "You'll see what his life is like." She promises and you stare at her, "are you high or something?" You ask and she chuckles, shaking her head as she walks off, a bag on her shoulder with a badge for a coffee shop you've been to for Dieter.

"Weird." You murmur, shaking your head as you continue rushing around to make sure this party is up to Dieter's standards. You don't realize when you finally collapse in bed that you won't be waking up there come morning.

Morning always comes slowly to Dieter. Even when he’s filming. He doesn’t wake up instantly and normally when you are prodding him out of bed, he’s already been awake for a few hours, but just can’t move. A combination of drugs and insomnia. He uses the drugs to help him sleep but no matter what, he can’t seem to sleep through the night. This morning, it’s off that the hangover he had been anticipating wasn’t throbbing in the back of his head and the blaring of the alarm nearly makes him jump a foot. He didn’t set an alarm. Maybe the person he had hopefully taken to bed had one on. “Huh?”

You wake up with a groan. Your head is absolutely aching and you feel like you’ve swallowed feathers. Your throat is dry and your first thought when you wake up is that you’re sick. Shit, Dieter won’t like you taking a day off or possibly getting him sick. You can’t win. You groan, rubbing your head and your eyes widen at the distinctly low register of your voice. Shit, you must be really sick. You shift to sit up, opening your eyes properly and they widen when you see you’re in Dieter’s bedroom. What the fuck? “Dieter?” You call out and you scream, your voice deep like your boss’s. You shuffle out of bed, feeling something between your legs and you look down and scream. You have a penis! A fucking cock! You’re naked and holy shit. You rush over to the mirror, screaming again when you see your reflection - Dieter’s reflection. You heave, trying to figure out if you’ve been drugged. You scramble to find Dieter’s phone, searching through the bed sheets until you find it. Unlocking it with the passcode you know, your - his - hands shake as you press your contact, hoping this is some kind of dream as you listen to the line ring.

His head shoots up from the pillows and he rolls over. “Fuck!” His chest hurts and he looks down to see if he rolled over on his pen or something and his eyes widen as he sees the sheets. These aren’t his sheets. He glances around the room, not his room. The phone blares again and he scrambles over to the table and his eyes widen when he sees his name ‘Dieter the Dick’ on the caller id. “Hello?”

“Dieter?” You ask, your stomach twisting at hearing your own voice. He screams, dropping the phone from his hand. “Why do you sound like me? Why do I sound like you?” He asks and you say “look in the mirror. What do you see?” You ask, wondering if this is some kind of sick joke.

Dieter rushes over towards a mirror attached to a dresser and screams again. Grabbing his/your face as he starts pulling at it. “Why do I look like you? What did you do? What kind of mask is this?” His panic subsided for a second and he leans in, “it’s really life-like. But what the FUCK is going on?!??!” When he dropped your phone, the speaker phone button had been hit, so you could hear everything he said clearly.

“I don’t know! I dont fucking know. I- I’m at your house and I- I have a dick and I look like you and oh God. How the fuck - what happened? How do we fix this?” You ask and he immediately says “how do you fix this?” You want to roll your eyes but you’re too panicked. “I don’t know. I don’t know.” You freak out, trying to fix this.

“Wait a minute….” Dieter frowns and looks down at the chest covered by a t-shirt. “That means I have tits!” He cries. “I have your tits! And a pussy!” Immediately, Dieter is lifting the shirt and flashing himself in the mirror. “Fuck, they’re nicer than I imagined.”

"Stop looking at my tits!" You yell at him down the phone. Your own eyes wandering along his naked form. He always sleeps naked. "Shit" You murmur as you look at his flaccid cock, still impressive and uncut like you always suspected since his parents brought him to America when he was a few years old.

“They’re my tits right now.” He can’t resist reaching up and squeezing them. “No wonder women like it when you play with them.” He grunts, teasing the hardening nipples. “This is really fuckin’ weird, but I kinda like it.”

“Oh my God.” You groan, mortified and annoyed that he’s molesting you. “I didn’t tell you you could touch my tits.” You hiss, “you want me fondling your balls?” You ask him, pissed off and intrigued as you look down at the cock between your thighs.

“Sure.” Dieter chuckles. “Find out how good it feels to scratch them.” He drops his hands away from the breasts since you seem so upright and he hums. “Do you shave or go au naturale?” He asks.

“Don’t you dare!” You hiss down the phone, knowing what he wants to do. “Fuck, Bravo. What are we gonna do - how did this happen - and oh my God, you’re touching my vagina, aren’t you?” You cringe, closing your eyes as if that will stop him.

“Nooooo.” Dieter lies, his hand in his pants and grinning at the smooth skin. “I’m not touching your freshly waxed pussy. Do you do that for a boyfriend? Or do you just like the way it feels? Oh- fuck, do you have a boyfriend? I can fuck him for you. I won’t mind. It would be interesting to see how it feels.”

You gasp, shocked but deep down not surprised. “No. No. That won’t be necessary. I don’t have a boyfriend. I don’t have a boyfriend because I don’t have fucking time.” You growl before you gasp again. “The woman. Last night at the party. She - shit. That coffee shop. We need - we need to find her.” She snapped her fingers after you vented. Maybe she knows what happened. You’re grasping at straws but that’s all you can do.

“What are you talking about? What woman?” Dieter frowns, looking at your reflection in the mirror. “Did I have someone in the bed with me? You need to kick them out. I don’t know how you fuck. You can’t ruin my reputation.”

You growl, full of frustration. “Shut the fuck up. I- there’s no one here. This woman came up to me at the party. I- I vented to her and she snapped her fingers in front of my face. I think she - no. I know she has something to do with this. She had a badge on her purse for that coffee shop down the street from the studio. We gotta go there and find her. Maybe she knows what is going on.”

“You think some lady from a coffee shop is the reason I have your pussy in my hand? I mean, your hand?” He’s already moved his fingers away, but it seems to frustrate you. “Are you sure we aren’t just tripping? We could be tripping.”

“It’s not drugs. I don’t do drugs.” You confess, having seen the state he gets himself into, you’ve never wanted to take drugs. “Seriously, this woman…it’s the only clue we have so we can get back into our own bodies. You have filming tomorrow and I - I need my body back before you completely molest it.” You huff, unused to your voice - his voice - not being so whiney.

"Like you aren’t thinking about doing the helicopter with my dick." He snorts, looking around the room with a sigh when you don’t answer. "Fine. I'll shower and get dressed. Do you need me to do anything? Any routine? Birth control?"

“I have an IUD but don’t you dare have random sex with my body. I don’t want any STIs. Just pick out some leggings and a t-shirt and wear a bra.” You tell him, “and underwear.” You huff, knowing that Dieter’s body likely needs a shower. “I’ll come pick you up in thirty minutes. I know where the coffee shop is.” You say and hang up, groaning again at the headache. You quickly located the aspirin in his nightstand and down the dusty bottle of water, ignoring the sex toys in the drawer before you shut it. You make his bed and head into the shower, taking a moment to look at his body. He has a birthmark on his chest that you’ve never noticed before. You shower, groaning at the water pressure - so much better than your own - and you search through his clothes for something to wear that isn’t threadbare. Finding some jeans and a t-shirt, you find it weird dressing in his clothes, his cock tucked into his briefs for once - and soon enough, you’re getting in his car to head over to your place.

Dieter showered, taking his time as he washes your body and he decided that he wouldn’t wear the underwear you asked for, it is too uncomfortable. Still, he’s ready to go just like you told him to be, deciding to rummage around in your purse since he is saving going through your phone for later.

You stand in front of your door, having to ring your own doorbell which is weird and you inhale sharply when your body answers the door. It's bizarre seeing yourself, seeing your own figure and you realize you don't see yourself the same in a mirror. "God, this is fucking weird." You gasp, staring at yourself as Dieter looks at his own body.

Dieter frowns. “What are you wearing?” He demands, looking around outside your door to see if anyone is watching. Looking for paps. “That’s too conspicuous! The paps will spot me! You! Whatever!”

You scoff, “it’s jeans and a polo shirt.” You counter and Dieter shakes his head. “No. No. They are gonna see me - you - me and shit. I don’t want fucking pap photos.” He hisses and you roll your eyes, “well too fucking late now.” You huff and cross your arms, “come on. Let’s go.”

Dieter huffs and rolls his eyes. “Fine, but they are going to speculate who I’m with.” He taunts you, leaning forward and wrapping his arm around you. “So get ready.”

It’s weird to be embraced by yourself as he exits your home. “Don’t forget my - your purse. And to lock the door.” You remind him, knowing he isn’t used to doing that kind of stuff for himself.

“Oh shit, that’s right.” He whirls around and grabs your purse, groaning at the weight. “Why do you have so much shit in here?” He demands, making you huff.

“Because I have to carry your lip balm and your extra sunglasses, your favorite autograph pen. Your sunscreen and hand lotion.” You list off making him wince.

“Okay, okay. Let’s go.”

You walk to his car and he walks to the driver's side with you. “Um…I’m driving.” You tell him.

“It’s my car!” He whines and you shake your head, “technically it’s my car and I know where we are going. You have no clue where a coffee shop is, let alone the coffee shop.” You raise your eyebrows as you open the door to get in.

Dieter huffs and pouts, reluctantly climbing into the passenger side and clicking his seatbelt. “You scratch my car, I’ll fire you.” He threatens, although he would never actually fire you. You’re too valuable.

You roll your eyes as you settle into the driver’s seat. “I’m a better driver than you, Dieter. I’m not the one with a DUI and God knows how many parking tickets.” You snort as you start the car and pull away from your home.

“One, it’s LA - everyone has parking tickets. Two, that DUI was bullshit, I wasn’t high.” Dieter insists, frowning again. “I hadn’t taken anything yet. I swear they had it out for me.”

You scoff, “sure thing.” You reach to turn on the radio, needing a distraction as you drive to the coffee shop. “So fucking weird.” You squint, realizing you can’t see the signs above so you grab his glasses from his console and put them on. “I got your eyes too.” You huff, adjusting your grip on the steering wheel.

“Hey…” He huffs, annoyed that you are calling him out on his eyesight. “At least you get to pee standing up now.” He shoots back before looking out the window. “Where are we going?” He whines. “I don’t like this side of town.”

“Well it’s where your favorite coffee is. You never question it when I put it in a Starbucks cup that I wash out.” You confess, wanting him to know that he’s been swindled by you. You want to support local businesses and that coffee shop is the only one that ever gets your order right.

“What else have you been lying about?” His head snaps towards you, shocked to find that his double shot venti latte over ice with two pumps of sugar free caramel and two pumps of sugar free chocolate with fat free soy milk isn’t from the popular coffee chain.

“I have my secrets.” You smirk, glancing over at him. “You have no clue how your life runs so smoothly. I do everything for you. I even buy your underwear.” You chuckle humorlessly. “You’d crumble doing one day of my job.”

Dieter huffs, rolling his eyes. “Despite what you might think, babe, my life isn’t fucking sunshine and roses.” He promises. “I can’t wait for you to see all the shit I have to put up with. That you don’t see.” He crosses his arms and snorts. “So you buy my underwear and get my coffee? I pay you really fucking good to do it.”

“And call me at three in the morning to get you Taco Bell. I can live your life any day. All you do is recite lines that you memorize. Besides, hopefully we don’t have to do that.” You say, pulling into the parking lot of the coffee shop and you put the car in park. “We’re here.”

Dieter is annoyed that you seem to think that he has it so easy. That anyone could do his job, or put up with the bullshit he does. He jerks the seatbelt off and storms out of the car, eager to get this fixed and get the fuck away from you.

You walk into the coffee shop, forgetting for a moment that you are Dieter Bravo and several sets of eyes fix on you. It’s uncomfortable and you immediately want to hide but you can’t, you need to get this fixed as soon as possible. You walk up to the counter and glance at all the staff. “Hi. Welcome to Roasted.” The woman behind the counter greets you and you offer her a Dieter signature smile, “hi. I’m looking for a girl. She was at a party and she was wearing a witches costume and she had a pendulum around her neck. Oh and a septum piercing. Does she work here?” You ask as Dieter, more polite than he’s ever been and she frowns, “there’s no one here that fits that description.”

Dieter sighs and rolls his eyes, forgetting that he’s in your body. “We might as well order.” He grumbles. “Since we’re here.” You are apparently tilting at windmills or you made the entire story up. He doesn’t know, but he’s bored of this and his anger is starting to get the best of him. Stomach rumbling, he doesn’t know how the fuck you do this, being hungry.

You nod, not feeling hungry despite your head still aching. You order Dieter's usual before ordering your own regular order. "Anything to eat?" You ask him, feeling like eating is the last thing in the world you want to do.

"Fuck yes, I'm starving." He whines, staring at the menu board longingly. "How the fuck do you do this? When was the last time you ate? Five years ago?"

You chuckle, "no. I just don't get off my ass on drugs." You snort and look up at the board, nothing taking your fancy but you order a bagel with cream cheese to try to eat. "What do you want Dee- baby?" You try to correct your mistake, knowing people would find it weird calling your body by his name.

His eyes cut over to you and he decides to have a little fun with you. "Well, I'd rather have you making me scream your name again." He makes your voice sound breathless, like it's remembering the pleasure from before. "Have you for breakfast, but since we'd be arrested...." He gives a giggle and leans in to kiss his own cheek in the body you are now occupying. "I want the French toast bagel sandwich with egg, cheese, sausage and extra bacon." He winks. "You know I need my energy for later when I suck your cock."

Your eyes widen and you nearly choke as the barista stares in shock. “Uh, yeah baby. Fine. You can, uh, do whatever you want later. We can, uh, how much is it?” You ask the barista who stammers out the total and you reach into your pocket for his wallet, pulling his card out to pay.

Dieter smirks proudly and he can't help himself, he reaches down and grabs your/his ass. "Love this ass." He hisses and grins at the barista. "Wouldn't you like to touch it? He's famous, you know."

The barista looks at you - Dieter - and you fluster, “uh, I’m - your food will be ready soon.” She rushes out and you reach behind you to grab your/Dieter’s hand.

“Fucking hell. Stop that. You’re gonna get us in the Enquirer or some shit.”

"You didn't seem to mind making me look crazy." Dieter frowns at you and crosses his arms over his chest and wincing. "Fuck. How do you-?" He pulls them away and tries to reposition them over the breasts he is not used to carrying. "Why does that hurt?"

“Because it’s flesh. Put them under.” You can’t help but reach out to adjust your arms and he sighs, neither of you noticing the way everyone in the cafe is watching until you drop your hands and walk over to the end of the counter to wait for the food and drinks. “Go sit down.” You tell Dieter, knowing he will want to be served.

“Don’t I do everything for you?” He points out childishly, ignoring you and walking over beside you. “You’re the spoiled actor. Go sign autographs.”

“Old habits die hard.” You roll your eyes, “no one wants one. It’s not that bad. Honestly you make it seem like people are dry humping you for a photo.” You snort, “such a drama queen.”

Dieter snorts, shaking his head. “Whatever, ‘Dee’.” He huffs mockingly and opens your bag to search through the cave of wonders to find the pen to slap into your hand.

A young girl, a late teen, comes over and you look at her in surprise. “Hi. Mr. Bravo. Wow, uh, I loved you in Hunger Strike. I’ve watched that movie so many times and I - God, could I get an autograph?” She holds out a notebook and you nod, hoping this body has his signature as muscle memory. You take the notebook and sign, letting the body lead and you sigh softly as you look at his signature. “Can I get a photo?” She asks and you nod so she hands her camera to you/Dieter.

Dieter looks over and smirks, finding it hilarious that you’ve already been accosted when you had quite firmly told him that no one cared. It’s strange to see his body moving, he doesn’t even like watching his own movies so this is doubly unnerving. The order number is called and he turns back towards the counter, immediately huffing because they got his order wrong.

You smile at the girl as she thanks you and you turn to you/Dieter. “What’s wrong?” You ask.

“They got my order wrong.” He huffs and you want to roll your eyes at the little stomp of a foot.

“It’s okay.” You say and call over the barista. “Hey sweetie, you got hi- her order wrong. Tell them what’s missing.” You order Dieter, hoping he does it politely.

“There’s no extra bacon.” Dieter grumbles, craving the saltiness. “I asked for sausage and extra bacon.”

“So-sorry. We can change it for you.” The barista says and you look at Dieter, “you could at least say please.” You raise your eyebrows and Dieter huffs, “they should get it right the first time.” It’s your turn to huff and you carry the tray over to an empty table, leaving Dieter to wait for his food.

Dieter huffs, frowning because he’s not used to people not fawning over him and making sure his order is right. “This body sucks.” He mumbles, looking over at where another person approaches you.

You want to roll your eyes but a man approaches you, holding a cell phone. "Hey man. I, uh, really loved you in Fire and Fury: The Destruction. Could, uh, could I get a selfie?" He asks and you want to huff and say no but you don't, nodding and smiling when the guy takes the photo. "Thanks." He says and you nod, watching him walk off before you sit down and wait for Dieter.

When his food finally comes up, Dieter grabs his tray and remembers to thank the girl. Turning and finding you again before walking over. “Enjoying the fans?”

You shrug, "all par for the course. Don't get to be rich and famous without having the cons of the job, right?" You say as you take a sip of your coffee and wrinkle your nose. "Oh God. Don't tell me I have your tastebuds." You moan, wanting to enjoy your pumpkin spiced latte and not his shitty coffee taste.

Dieter picks up his own order and takes a sip, wrinkling his nose. “This is fucking gross, you can’t tell me that we actually drink the coffee from here.”

You switch the cups, “here. I think our taste buds have stayed in the body.” You roll your eyes, “we always have coffee from here. Try this.” You order, pointing at the cup.

He’s suspicious but he takes the cup and sniffs it. “Smells good.” He grumbles and takes a small sip. His eyes widen and he groans appreciatively. “This is soooo good.” He moans, quickly taking another sip. “Yeah, we get our coffee from here from now on.” He tells you like it’s his idea. You roll your eyes, but he ignores you. “So where’s this woman who made us switch bodies? I know you’re gonna get pissy when I want to masturbate.”

Your eyes widen. “Absolutely not. You are not going to do that in my body.” You hiss and he chuckles, “hate to break it to you sweetheart but my body is like clock work. You are gonna be hard a lot and unless you wanna experience sex as a man, you’re gonna need to jerk off.” He says and you wrinkle your nose at the thought of jerking his cock off to masturbate. “Don’t you dare masturbate with my body.” You warn him before you glance around, “this woman had a badge on her bag. It was this place. I’m just grasping at straws.” You shake your head and sigh.

“And how did we end up in each other’s bodies?” He asks, shaking his head in confusion. “I mean, I’ve thought about being inside you, but not like this.” He smirks, knowing that you would hate that comment. You frown and it’s almost disheartening to see the lines on his face. “Fuck, I need to have a chemical peel.” He mutters and looks down at his breakfast sandwich.

You roll your eyes for the umpteenth time and look at him, “shut up. You’re handsome and you know it. Meanwhile…God, I could use some time in the gym.” You sigh as you look at yourself while he picks the breakfast sandwich to eat while in your body.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” He snorts, taking a huge bit of the breakfast sandwich and chewing hungrily. “You’ve got a killer ass and your tits are naturally perky.” He smirks. “I felt. Yeah your thighs are thick but, let me be honest? Most guys, they don’t give a shit. Thick thighs are fucking nice to be between. It’s like a cushion.”

His words make your stomach twist and you are certain he’s trying to placate you but it’s still nice for Dieter. He dates models and actors so you know he’s seen the best bodies on the planet. “Thanks but, uh, it would be nice to be back in my own body. She’s not here. I don’t know what to do now. We can keep trying to find her. I’m so Damn sure she’s the reason we are in this situation.”

He frowns, unsure of where the fuck you’re supposed to find this person. “Didn’t my party have a damn guest list?” He demands. “What kind of people did you let in?”

“Me? Last time I checked, I’m your assistant, not your fucking security team. Your party planner had the list. She knew exactly who was coming in and out. Shit. She must know her. She knows. Otherwise she wouldn’t have been allowed in. We need to talk to your party planner.” You say, knowing that’s the key.

“You’re the one who has her number.” Dieter reminds you, but you just grin.

“You’re in my body, with my phone.” You remind him, making him look down at the phone on the table with a smirk.

“Yeahhhh, this is my phone.” He cackles, snatching it up and opening it up.

“Oh God.” You moan, hoping that none of your exes text you or he finds something private. “Her name is Kat.” You tell him and he searches for her number before hitting dial. You make him put it on speaker and you wait for her to answer.

“Oh God, what is he complaining about now?” Kat greets you with an exasperated sigh. “We did everything he wanted and more!”

Dieter frowns and shakes his head, hurt that his party planner is making him out like some kind of whiner. “That’s not fair.” He huffs and You elbow him. “Ow, what? Oh, hey Kat, listen I need to know about some woman that came to the party. Some kind of witch?”

“Witch?” She says and you narrow your eyes at her tone. She seems to know something. “Yeah. She works at that coffee shop.” He says as you nod. “Well, she, uh, I know her but why do you want to talk to her?” She asks warily.

“She left something at Dieter’s house.” Dieter lies suddenly. “A badge of some kind. I want to get it back to her.” There’s a pause on the other end of the line and he looks over at you for guidance.

You nod, “tell her that you wanted to talk to her after you get to know each other at the party.” You whisper, getting a little urgent for her to give you a fucking answer since you’ve been in Dieter’s body far too long in your opinion.

“I want to talk to her.” Dieter tells her quickly. “I got to talk to her at the party and want to get to know her better.”

“Kat is…she doesn’t like talking to people.” She says hesitantly. “I can give you her number.” She says and you nod, grabbing Dieter’s phone to take down the number.

Dieter huffs at the hesitancy and as soon as he says thanks and you hang up, he looks over at you. “She’s hiding something.” He predicts. “She is hiding something.”

You agree, “let’s call her.” You say, reading off the number that Kat gave you. “Call her. She must know what the fuck is going on.” You say, taking another sip of coffee and you sigh when you realize how badly you need this fixed. The phone rings and rings and you think she isn’t going to answer until she says “hello?”

“Hi, this is, uh, “ Dieter almost says his own name but he quickly uses yours instead, waving off your nod of approval. It’s not like he doesn’t play characters everyday. “We spoke at the Bravo Halloween party last night?”

“Oh hey girl. Or should I say hello, Mr. Bravo?” She says with a smirk in her voice and you narrow your eyes. “So it worked?” She asks, her voice hopeful and almost impressed with herself.

“Yeah. It’s fucking worked.” Dieter growls, “why the hell did you swap our - us over?” He hisses, knowing he can’t say anything in public.

“I wanted to teach you both a lesson. You can’t exist without the other and you need an appreciation of what the other lives like…until you learn to understand the other person, you’ll be stuck.” She says and you grab the phone.

“Please, for the love of God, fix this.” You beg.

She hums. “There is nothing I can do.” She confesses, making Dieter’s eyes widen. “What is done can only be undone by your own choices.” Instead of elaborating on how to make the right choice, she hangs up, leaving you and Dieter to stare at each other in horror.

“What are we going to do? I can’t stay like this!” Dieter cries, motioning to his body and yours. “I have a call time tomorrow!”

“You can’t stay like this? I - I miss my body. I have friends, family. I- oh God. What does she mean ‘right choices’? I don’t - shit. We gotta try and make the right choices.” You ramble like you even know what those choices would be.

“How should I know?” Dieter asks, nearly hysterical. “I didn’t do this! This is your fault!” He points at you accusingly. “You obviously told that witch that I don’t appreciate you, which I do, and now look where we are!”

You gasp, “you - you think you appreciate me? You snap your fingers when you want something. You never ever say please or thank you. How do you think your laundry gets done or your car is filled with gas? Do you think it’s fucking magic? And what do I get in return? You haven’t even given me a raise in five years.” You hiss at him.

“You haven’t asked for one!” He shoots back. “I didn’t know you wanted more money? How could I? All you talk about is wanting to get done with the day and leaving.” He pouts, a little hurt by that fact. “I didn’t know I needed to kiss your ass too!”

You rear back, hurt that he doesn't even see it. "I shouldn't have to ask. You should want to do it. I want to be done with the day because you're such an ungrateful prick. If you had even said thank you once I might've felt different about working hours upon hours with you. I'm not talking about kissing my ass...just to be appreciative."

Dieter frowns and shakes his head, obviously not thinking the same as you do. “I need to be appreciative that you do your job. Okay.” He shakes his head and wonders how you would react to the bullshit he gets to deal with. Constantly being criticized for not getting a scene right if it’s not exactly what’s in the director’s head, but he’s shit at explaining what he wants. “Well, thank you for getting me trapped in your body. Guess I’ll see what your life is like, right?”

You shake your head at him, "yeah. And I get to experience what an easy life you have. Reading some lines and getting everything done for you. Hard Goddamn life." You roll your eyes, unable to help yourself.

Dieter snorts and takes the last bite of his sandwich. “You’ll find out.” He promises. This latest director is an asshole and he’s been sending you off to do shit for him because there have been a lot of screaming fits from him towards the production. He had actually tried to keep you out of the line of fire, but now you can deal with Mark. He finishes his coffee and stands. “Oh look. More adoring fans.” He murmurs before he walks away to throw out his trash, relieved for once that it’s not him being harassed. You haven’t even finished your food.”

You watch him leave and sigh, knowing that arguing won’t fix this but his ego is too much to handle sometimes. “Whatever.” You mutter and look up as a fan comes over. You know Dieter wants you to complain but you won’t. You’ll meet them with a smile and you do just that, taking a photo and signing a napkin before you finish your now cold sandwich. You leave the coffee shop and find Dieter standing by his car, arms crossed. “Are you finished sulking now?”

“Whatever. Take me home.” He grumbles. “It’s supposed to be your day off, remember? Since I give you so few perks? You shouldn’t want to be around me. Go enjoy your lazy life.”

“Fine.” You huff, unlocking the car to get in and start it, eager to drop him off at your house and get back to his to figure out how to fix this. Maybe going to sleep will help. Maybe this has all been a bad dream. You soon pull up outside of your place and he opens the door. “Don’t go snooping.” You warn him, knowing he will want to look around.

He snorts and rolls his eyes. “So you’re privy to my entire life but I can’t know about yours?” He asks as he gets out of the car. “Don’t wreck my car!” He tosses over his shoulder as he marches away from you back to your tiny apartment.

You make your way back to his house, exhausted from the stress of the situation and your body is exhausted for some reason. You decide to take a nap, hoping that when you wake up…this will all be a nightmare.

Dieter sighs when he enters your apartment. It’s small and he flops down on the couch, huffing when the bra he put on you digs into his armpit. “How the fuck does she stand these things?” He grumbles as he leans forward to unhook it. Groaning in relief at the loss of the bra, he wonders how mad you would be if he masturbated.

To say you’re disappointed when you woke up would be an understatement. You are still in Dieter’s body. Even worse…you’re hard. It’s a weird feeling. Unused to this kind of arousal, you try to ignore it but you huff, knowing it won’t go away until you deal with it. Knowing that you can’t do that without permission, you call your cell phone to get hold of Dieter.

Dieter moans softly, his - your - hand is down the pants that he is wearing. His - your - fingers playing with the clit that he is delighted to find is extremely sensitive. Despite your warnings, he was always going to explore. Even though he wants to play with the toys that are in your drawer by the bed, sometimes manual is better.

You huff as the phone rings and he doesn’t answer. “Fucker.” You hiss, knowing that the blood running south won’t go away without help so you give in. Reaching down to unbutton your pants, you reach in and pull the hard cock out. Eyes widening at how fucking thick it is. “Dieter - no wonder.” You mutter, unsure of how to handle this from a first person perspective. You spit into your hand and wrap your fingers around Dieter’s - your - cock and groan at the sensation.

Dieter wonders why you don’t get your clit pierced. It’s so fucking sensitive. He groans again and he hesitates for just a second before he slides his fingers down and pushes two inside your - his - cunt. “Oh fuck, that’s- that’s better than rubbing a clit.” He groans, closing his eyes as he starts to pump his fingers.

You moan as you start to move your hand, twisting it slightly and you swipe your thumb over the head to gather the drop of pre-cum, bringing your hand back down with a gentle whimper. God, this feels good. Less work than masturbating your own body. You groan as you work your hand a little faster, enjoying how this feels.

He groans when the angle doesn’t quite work right. It’s harder to find that spot when he’s having to contort his wrist. Used to just fingering from a different angle. “Fuck.” He whimpers, sliding one hand up to squeeze his new tits again. Maybe he’ll get you a gift certificate at a piercing shop to show how much he appreciates you.

“Shit.” You hiss, finding the right grip and speed, loving how good this feels. You moan, loud as you work yourself up. “Oh shit.” You hiss again, loving how good this feels.

"Oh fuck." Dieter's eyes roll back when he finds that spot. "There it is, goddamn." He huffs, pumping his fingers inside his cunt.

You pant as you pump a little faster, spitting into your palm again and groaning as you squeeze the head every other thrust. “Shit. Gonna - gonna - oh fuck.” You groan, choking as you cum, spurting onto the shirt you’re wearing and you pump yourself through it.

Dieter is soooo fucking close. His thighs start to shake as he gasps. Surprised by the feeling of a female orgasm and how it is so different from his previous ones. Finally falling over the edge and crying out when his walls lock down around his fingers.

You pant as you slump against the bed, letting go of your cock before you sigh, realizing you need to clean up and get something to eat. Dieter - you - has an early call time tomorrow and you want to make sure you’re there early to figure out how the fuck you’re gonna bluff knowing your lines.

When Dieter comes down from the high that is natural from cumming, he checks the phone that had been buzzing. It's strange to see a different background but the facial recognition opens it and he sees he missed a call from himself, or you, in his body. He sighs and calls you back, not really wanting to talk but it might be important.

You huff when Dieter phones you back and you sigh, wondering what took him so long. You’ve cleaned yourself up, grimacing at the mess that is the male orgasm, and you have changed into sweatpants. “Hey.” You answer, “what took you so long to call back?”

"Busy washing your hair." Dieter teases as he looks down at your fingernails. You are due for a manicure, you need one. Maybe he could hook you up with his nail artist who does his before press events? "Something wrong?"

You narrow your eyes in suspicion at his innocent tone. “No. I just wanted to check in on you. It’s an early call time tomorrow and I need your script. Couldn’t find it. Where is it?” You ask, still curious as to what took him so long.

He chuckles quietly. "It's on the back of the toilet. I read it while I'm in there." He admits with zero shame.

You wrinkle your nose at that but make your way into the bathroom to find his script. “God. I didn’t know that’s how you learned your lines.” You tell him, unable to believe there’s much you don’t know about him at this point. “Anyway. I’m gonna try and memorize the scene you’re doing tomorrow so I don’t make you look like an idiot.” You say, knowing you’re responsible for his job. “I want a bagel from that place opposite the studio and a black coffee.” You give him your order, smirking slightly at the idea of him getting you breakfast.

"Yes sir." he hums into the phone mockingly. "By the way? Your pussy is really tight, I like it." He tells you right before he ends the call. It will drive you insane that you don't know what he's done and he won't tell you. Setting the alarm for the appropriate time and turning on DO NOT DISTURB so you can't call back again.

You stare at the phone in shock before you growl out “fucking Bravo.” You know he’s touched your body and you are pissed, even though you touched his. God, this is so complicated. Tomorrow, you’ll get through the day and figure out how to fix this.

****

“No. No. No.” The director shakes his head as you try to film the scene. You memorized the lines but you’re not an actor and apparently muscle memory doesn’t apply when you have the wrong memory in your body. The director points out the spot you’re supposed to stand on and you nod, knowing you’ll have to try again. This is torture, trying to remember the lines, act them out, and remember where you’re supposed to stand.

Dieter stands with his coffee, smirking slightly as you blow out a sigh. Maybe it’s petty, but it’s slightly validating that you are having such a hard time getting your blocking right. You had continued to insist that acting was just so easy. He takes another sip and the phone in his pocket dings, making him look away from where you are floundering, to glance at the change his manager is making to ‘your’ schedule.

You stutter as you try to remember your line, getting flustered until the director calls for a break. He comes over to you, “I don’t know what the fuck is going on with you today, Bravo, but whatever drugs or pussy has you flustered, you need to forget it and get your head in the game.” He growls, wanting perfection and you nod, “yes sir.” You feel humiliated as you make your way back to your/Dieter’s trailer.

Dieter follows behind you, recognizing the slump of his body’s shoulders. He waits until the two of you are alone in the trailer to speak since no one else knows that you’ve swapped bodies. They just think that he’s having a bad day acting. “Listen.” He sets the bag down and blows out a breath. “It helps if you count in your head. Let’s you keep track of where you are in your movements.”

You slump down on the sofa, “I just - I didn’t think it would be this hard. I- shit. The stress of this. The reminded cost of filming from the producers and the director wanting perfection. I don’t know how the fuck you do this.” You confess, realizing you were wrong.

“It’s an art, a craft.” He tells you. “It’s not just memorizing some lines and looking pretty. It takes a lot of dedication and practice. Even then, years later, an Oscar later, I’m still working on my craft.” He admits. “I spend hours in my room, alone, practicing voices, accents, and my body movements.”

You bite your lip, crossing your arms as you realize how difficult his job can be. “I’m sorry. I- I didn’t know. I never knew it was so hard. I thought it was just reading some lines and - shit. I really don’t want to go back out there.” You confess, rubbing your cheek that is a little rough from not shaving.

“You can do it.” Dieter encourages. “Stand up and I’ll work with you.” He tilts his head. “Or I can go tell him you’ve got the shits. That’ll work. He’s a germaphobe.”

You shake your head, "no. No. I - I can do this." You stand up and wipe your sweaty palms on your pants. "Teach me." You plead, not wanting to embarrass Dieter like this in front of the director.

He’s surprised that you are swallowing your pride. His - your - brows raise and he nods. “Okay. Stand right here.” He points to an air vent. “This is your mark. Say your first line and then move two steps to the right at full tempo.”

You follow his direction, finding it much nicer than the asshole director, and you count in your head after you say your first line. "Oh God. I'm hopeless at this." You groan, shaking your head as you mess up.

“No, don’t think like that.” He frowns slightly. “The more nervous you are, the more you will mess up. Think about something naughty.” He suggests, shrugging when you look at him like he has seven heads. “Seriously. I’m thinking about that and not worried about the possibility of messing up.”

Your eyes widen, "what do you think about?" You ask, wanting an example from him. You try to think about your ex but that makes you wrinkle your nose as you walk back to your makeshift mark.

“Normally I think about doing the scene naked with a hard on.” He admits with a snort. “Then I’m not going to pop a boner and I can think about that.”

You snort, "oh God. I- now that's all I'm gonna think about...you with a hard on." You chuckle, "well, this body." You gesture to yourself.

He smirks and winks at you. “How many times did you end up jerking off last night?” He asks. “Know it had to be at least once, because you got some sleep.”

You fluster, biting your lip, "I, uh, once. It was different. Easier than I thought it would be. Men have it easier to get off." You confess, "you...you did, didn't you?" You ask, eyes narrowed at him.

He laughs, finding it much easier to do than chuckling. “You mean did I find that sweet spot that makes your toes curl and your pussy soak the mattress? Of course I did.” He hums. “Harder to find when you’re doing it yourself. I have to admit that. But your fingers were the only thing I put inside that tight little pussy. Didn’t even do it in front of a mirror, although now that I think about it, I should have.”

You sigh, “of course. God, why did I think you wouldn’t masturbate?” You huff and cross your arms, looking down at how broad they are. You never really noticed that before. “Can we concentrate on the acting? Your career?”

“So wait a minute…” Dieter holds up your now manicured hands. “So it’s okay that you jerk my cock, but you’re mad that I did the same thing?”

“I- I- I don’t know what to say.” You confess, “I just - you use your body all the time. With everyone. Anyone. I don’t…I don’t do that. It’s weird that you fingered what I would consider my vagina.”

He frowns, dropping your hands and looking down at them. "I used your fingers too." He offers, unsure of what to really say. "I won't do it anymore."

You nod, “okay. I, uh, I need something. I don’t know what it is but I feel itchy and my palms are sweaty. I’m sweating.” You press the back of your hand to your forehead. “Why - I need water or something.”

He frowns and realizes that his body is going through some kind of withdrawal. “Here.” He moves over to a cabinet and pulls out an aspirin bottle. Shaking out a tiny yellow pill and holding it out to you. “Take this.” He orders, dropping it into your palm before he moves to get you a bottle of water.

You frown, “what is it?” You ask and he stares at you, “just take it.” You huff, knowing it’s some drug he probably takes a lot during the day so you take a gulp of the water and swallow the pill down. “God, do you feel like that a lot?”

“Stress, anxiety, feeling like you’re about to pass out?” He snorts and nods. “Nearly everyday. The xannie will help you calm down.”

You frown, aware that he had been taking drugs but you didn’t know that he suffered as bad as that. The anxiety was almost overwhelming. “I didn’t know you felt like that. I- I’m sorry.” You murmur, downing the rest of the water bottle.

He shrugs one shoulder, not looking at you. "Don't worry about it." He mutters. "Let's get you ready to film that scene."

You shake your head, “I’m sorry you feel like this.” You say, reaching out to squeeze his/your hand. “Let’s nail this scene.” You tell him, “then I think I’ll want lunch. You love that taco place a few blocks away. Think you can get me some tacos from there?”

He frowns, not really sure what the name of the place is or where it's at, but he nods. "Sure." He agrees, knowing that you have all his favorite places saved into your phone.

You head back out to the set, swallowing harshly as your stomach churns with nerves but you feel better after popping a pill. “You ready to go?” The director asks and you nod, “yes.” You bite your lip as everything is reset and you take your mark, inhaling sharply as you begin to act out the lines and remember the blocking.

Dieter watches you critically, wanting to make sure you don't falter again. Mouthing the lines that he had memorized along with you and he's proud that you only miss half a beat once. Hoping that it's enough to satisfy the mercurial director.

You complete the scene, jumping when the director yells cut and you wait for him to tell you that was shit but he didn’t. You sigh in relief when he says “good job, Bravo. Let’s cut for lunch.” He yells out and you exhale shakily under your breath.

Dieter smirks and moves towards his body to take his arm just like you would. "Okay, let's get you back to your trailer and I'll go get those tacos you want." He tells you, knowing from the look on his face that the pill has taken effect and you will be relaxed and hungry now.

You nod, letting him guide you to his trailer and you slump down on the sofa, the pill taking full effect and you moan at the thought of tacos. “Are you still here?” You ask Dieter, knowing that he won’t take kindly to your tone but you’re suddenly starving and tired.

He huffs and rolls his eyes like you would when he would say the exact same thing to you, but he knows that his body is ready for food. "Fine, I'll be back. Get some rest."

You hum, closing your eyes as you allow the pill to relax you enough to have a quick nap before Dieter returns with the food. Little do you know that Dieter is struggling to find the taco place you love.

“Where the fuck is it????” He hisses in frustration. It’s been impossible to find this fucking taco place and he looks down at his phone again and back at the street. “Fuck, fuck, where are you?”

You blink as you wake up, the su n shining into the trailer and you wonder how long you’ve been asleep. Surely Dieter would be back by now. You grab his phone, calling your number and waiting for him to answer. “Hello?” He answers and he sounds flustered.

“Everything okay?”

“I can’t find this fucking taco place!” He huffs into the phone, feeling anxious and confused because he knows it’s close. “I’ve called them six times and they aren’t answering”

You sigh, “it’s hidden in the plaza. You gotta go down the breezeway and it’s on the first level.” You explain, “are you parked near the coffee shop?” You ask and he nods. “Then it’s the next building.”

“Really? Fuck.” He sighs, “thank you, I’ve been tearing your pretty hair out.” He admits before he repeats back your food order. “I’ll be back to set as quick as I can.”

“Oh can you get some coffee on the way back from the place next door? I want a black coffee.” You say, annoyed that you still have Dieter’s taste buds.

He chuckles, aware that you are annoyed but he agrees. “One black coffee coming up.” He promises before rushing down the breezeway to get the tacos.

You wait for Dieter to return, grabbing your script to try the next scene since you’re alone. You say the lines and walk the blocking, counting in your head. You try over and over, working on the inflections in Dieter’s voice.

Finally after waiting for way too long for tacos, Dieter is back in the car and heading towards the set. Knowing that he is running behind and you will have to be back out there soon. He wants you to be able to rest and hopefully he can go over the lines with you again. It's amazing how much time it takes to get everything done and he has to admit you're right, traffic is way too busy to expect things right away.

You look up when Dieter arrives back with your food. You’re starving and the pill effect is waning. God, his resistance to drugs is ridiculous. You groan when he sets the food down, “you took forever.” You whine slightly, grabbing the box to open it with a moan.

He rolls his eyes and sets the black coffee down. “Yeah. I know. Fucking restaurant was hidden, how was I supposed to know that?” He grumbles, not even hungry himself, just needing the coffee he had gotten for himself.

You dig into the food, groaning and licking your fingers as you savor the food. “I’ve been practicing while you’ve been gone for the next scene.” You reveal, “can’t have you looking bad again. I don’t wanna ruin your career.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Dieter snorts. “They will just think I’m high.” He admits, knowing you are fully aware of his reputation. “Oh shit!” His eyes widen, and he motions towards your/his phone. “You need to text Monique and tell her not to come over tonight.” He urges. “Do it now.”

Your eyes widen, “what?” You ask with a mouth full of taco and he grabs his phone, holding it up to your face to unlock it so he can type away. “Who’s Monique?” You question, knowing you’ve never heard of her.

Dieter feels his cheeks heat up. Biting his lip and looking away for a moment. “She’s my….” He mumbles the last word too low for you to hear.

“She’s what?” You demand, making him huff.

“She’s my dominatrix!” He nearly shouts.

Your eyes widen, “she - you have a - oh my God.” You nearly choke on the taco, in shock at his confession and you grab your water to swallow down the bite. “Why do you have one of those?” You ask, patting your chest.

Now he understands the term ‘want to shrivel up and die’. “Everyone want to fuck an actor. But I want- I need - to just let go, you know? To just let someone else be in control. To - to order me around. I actually like giving pleasure.”

Your eyes widen, “oh wow. I, uh, wow. I didn’t know…I mean, I guess I get it. Wanting to be out of control and have someone make all the decisions. It sounds quite nice actually.” You confess, knowing your own life is hectic. “I, uh, I think I owe you an apology. I didn’t realize how hard acting actually is.” You confess, setting your water down.

He nearly sags in relief that you don’t judge him. He had taken great pains to keep that a secret from everyone, even you. “Your job is a lot harder too.” He admits quietly. “I’m sorry, I owe you a lot of kudos and thanks for keeping my life sane.”

You nod, reaching out to take your/his hand. “I think both of us didn’t know what the other’s job involved. I have a new appreciation of your work…of you.” You admit, squeezing his hand. “I’m sorry I was a bitch before.”

“I was an asshole.” Dieter can admit that, he often is. “We’ll get through this.” He promises, even though he doesn’t have a clue how.

You sigh, looking down at your food. "I hope so." You murmur, knowing that neither of you can fix this. The witch hasn't informed you on how to fix it so at this point, it looks like you're stuck in his body. "Anyway. Let's finish eating and then I want to go over the lines. Can't have Dieter Bravo looking like he doesn't know what he's doing." You chuckle softly.

He laughs and nods. “Of course, can’t have it looking like I’m not a professional.” He scoffs. “I’ll help you get through the day’s shoot.”

****

It’s been a week since you’ve been in Dieter’s body and it’s hard to admit it but it’s hard work being a movie star. When he’s finished shooting for the week, he’s going to press events or you have to go to a restaurant for PR with some model. It was difficult to get out of sex but you managed it with the eager model who didn’t have a lot of brain cells. It’s exhausting and your new body has been going through withdrawals so you take the drugs and enjoy the peace and quiet when you finally get some time to relax.

Dieter is exhausted, never complaining though, but it seems like you never sleep. On top of all the shit he asks you to do, his manager and his agent all send you shit to make sure he does. It seems like the phone never stops buzzing. He opens the door to his house and sighs, missing his comfort zone despite your place being comfortable. “Fuck, I’m back!” He calls out. “I got dinner and vodka!”

“Thank fuck!” You moan, shifting off of the bed to find him with the food. “I’m starving. God, today was a long day. That damn model…I had to go have coffee with her and she has literally one brain cell. I tried to talk to her about the movie industry and she couldn’t grasp it.” You roll your eyes as you walk into the kitchen.

Dieter snorts and sets down the food when he gets into the room. “She’s been told all her life that she didn’t need to be smart, because she was pretty.” He reminds you. “Doesn’t matter that beauty fades, huh?”

You chuckle, “isn’t that the truth. Good thing you’ve aged well.” You tell him, reaching up to touch your/his face. “Look just like you did when you filmed Hunger Strike…apart from the new tattoos.” You say and gesture to your arm.

“Rebellion.” Dieter smirks at the tattoos that he’s seen on his body more since he’s not been in it. “They wanted me to quote ‘be a blank canvas’, so I got dark, bold tattoos.”

You chuckle, “sounds like you. Always rebellious. It’s weird…being in your body and looking at mine. Makes you focus on all the imperfections.” You frown, opening the box with your food in it.

“What perfections are you talking about?” He huffs. “I’ve seen your body in the mirror a shit ton the last week and I have to say, this body is fucking sexy.”

Your eyes widen in surprise more at his compliment and you bite your/his lip. “I mean…I try to look good. It’s hard to work out or keep healthy when I’m running around after you.” You confess.

“I’m sorry.” He apologizes. “I’ll- when we get back to our own bodies, I’ll make sure you get more time to yourself.” He promises. “Away from me.”

You nod, reaching for his/your hand, “it’s okay. I think we have both learned a lot about each other this past week.” You murmur, looking into your own eyes but somehow, you can see his personality shining through. Your annoyance towards your boss shifted somehow and you don’t know when it did but you feel softer towards him, you understand him more.

“We have.” Dieter agrees, looking down at your joined hands and feels his heart start to pound. Those thoughts he’s had during this time once again sounding in his mind. “I think- you’re amazing.”

“You do?” You ask, eyes wide as you stare at him.

“Yeah. I realize how much you do for me and…and how I didn’t pay attention to how amazing you are.” He confesses and you swallow harshly, “I didn’t know how hard your life is. I thought it was just easy. Reading lines. I didn’t - I didn’t know how incredibly talented you are and how kind you can be.”

Dieter shrugs slightly, embarrassed. Since things have progressed longer than a day, you’ve had several people contact you/him asking for money or favors. He understands it can be a lot. “Is it weird that I want to kiss you?” He asks instead.

You bite your lip, “kinda? I mean…we would be kissing ourselves essentially but yeah…I wanna kiss you too.” You confess, looking down at your hands. He’s gotten manicures since he’s been in your body and you have to admit that it looks good.

“We should do it.” He tells you, watching his own body move closer to him. “I want- fuck, it’s been so hard not to touch your body, baby.” He confesses breathlessly. “But I’ve - I haven’t masturbated since you got so upset at me.”

You bite your lip, knowing this is fucked up on so many levels. “I want to - God, this is so weird but I really want to fuck you….me?” You add with a chuckle, deep and chesty. “You want to go to the sofa?” You suggest, jerking your chin over to it.

Dieter smirks and nods eagerly. “You have no idea how badly I want to see what sex is like as a woman.” He confesses. “You have to thank me, the thought of being a real slut was nearly overwhelming but I haven’t touched a soul.” He holds up three fingers in a scout’s honor.

You chuckle, "it's gonna be a weird experience but I want to see what it's like." You confess, "I know what my body likes so...it should be fun. Might as well experience something while we are in this crazy situation." You shrug, reaching for his hand again to guide him over to the sofa. You sit down and he wastes no time straddling you. "This is so freaky." You chuckle, looking up at your face and you reach up to cup his cheek, bringing his face to yours to press your lips to his.

Dieter hums into the kiss, wrapping his arms around your neck and immediately sliding your body’s tongue into his mouth. It will be freaky but like you said, it should be fun. He definitely wants to show you what getting a blow job is like. “It’s like watching ourselves in a mirror.”

You hum as your tongues tangle together and your hands find your/his ass. Squeezing it and you can appreciate your own form in this moment and you love the way Dieter moans into your mouth. Your cock is starting to harden - something you’ve become accustomed to with Dieter’s sex drive - and you moan when Dieter grinds down onto you.

Getting wet is a sensation that Dieter loves and hates. He hates that it ruins the panties he’s wearing - he’s actually had to start wearing underwear in your body - and he loves it because it’s so discreet. No one could tell that he’s horny and he’s often wondered when you get wet around him. “I want to suck your cock.” Dieter groans, pulling back and flashing you a grin. “Like you said, I know what my body likes.”

You groan, cock twitching and you kiss along his neck, breathing in the perfume your mom bought you for Christmas that you love and you moan, fingers digging into his flesh even more. “God, I am so fucking horny allll the time.” You take on the whine in his voice and he giggles, turning to kiss your ear.

“Sucks doesn’t it?” He asks playfully. “Now you know why I’m always begging people to have sex with me. It’s- less, when I had Monique.” He confesses, “but I have a high sex drive.”

You nod, understanding him now more than ever before. “Maybe I can try Monique…see if I like it.” You tease, “or if I ever get my body back…I can try acting like Monique.” You tease and reach for the hem of his shirt, dragging it over his head and groaning at the sight of his tits in his bra. “Fuck. Never knew my boobs could look so good.” You confess and shift your hands up to squeeze them.

“They do look good, don’t they?” Dieter smirks as he looks down at them proudly. “I think I will miss these most when I go back to my own body.” He frowns slightly, aware that you would never let him touch them again after you switch back.

You bite the inside of your cheek, wanting to say that he's being hopeful. You could be stuck like this forever. You sigh and reach behind him to undo his bra, cock hardening beneath him as you expose more flesh and after you toss the bra aside, you surge forward to take a nipple into your mouth.

“Oh fuck!” In his own body, Dieter loves having his nipples played with, but like this it’s even better. He groans and grinds down on your hard cock. A cock he does know better than anything else, so he slides his hands into your sweats, amused that you had started wearing his ‘trashy’ clothes.

You moan against his flesh as he squeezes your cock, making you groan when he uses just the right amount of pressure. You know exactly how to work the body of the other person, your mouth sucking on your nipple before biting down, and his hand squeezing his cock perfectly. It’s weird and wild but it feels so good.

Dieter is in love with this. He knows it’s his cock, he feels it respond to his touch just like it does when he was masturbating, but he can’t feel it. You are driving his other senses crazy and he gasps when you bite down on his nipple. “So good baby.” He whines prettily.

You moan, hands sliding down to squeeze his ass, his hand working your cock and you want to feel move. “Take your pants off.” You rasp against his chest, “wanna - wanna feel all of you.” You tell him and when he shuffles off, you pull your shirt over your head and shove your sweatpants down, kicking them off.

“Fuck.” Dieter pants slightly, looking at his own body through fresh eyes. “I want- let me-“ he doesn’t even articulate what he wants, he just finishes stripping and drops to his knees. Leaning forward to quickly take your cock into his mouth.

“Oh my God!” You cry out, your hand grabbing the back of his head and you can’t believe how good it feels. “Shit. No - no wonder guys want this all the time.” You moan, cock twitching in his mouth as he takes it deeper.

Dieter hums, letting it vibrate around your shaft and swallows. Enjoying the moans and sounds he is pulling from you even though it’s his voice. It’s not like he’s never done this before, but there’s something wicked about doing it to his own body. Something that makes him want to blow your mind.

You pant, chest heaving at the sensations. Something you’ve never experienced before and you nearly lift your hips from the sofa, chasing his mouth. “Oh fuck, baby.” You moan, head tilted back as your eyes flutter closed.

He holds one hip, the other hand wrapped around your cock and he wishes he had a free hand. It would be between his thighs rubbing that sensitive clit. Groaning as he takes you to the back of his throat and then pushing past your gag reflex.

“Ho-holy shit. Oh my - fuck. Fuck. Fuck.” You cry out as he swallows around you and you groan, reaching down to tap his head. “Baby. Dee. I’m gonna - I’m gonna cum.” You pant out, cock twitching in his mouth.

“You don’t want to cum?” He asks when he pulls off your cock with a pop. “If you- uh, go down on me, you’ll be ready to go again in like twenty minutes.”

You shake your head, “I don’t - do you want me to - in your mouth?” You ask, struggling to maintain control as he continues pumping your cock in his hand.

“Gonna swallow you down.” Dieter promises, wondering if you would swallow in the same situation. He’s never going to find out in his body, but he will have this memory. “Cum for me, baby.” He begs before he takes you back into his mouth and sucks eagerly.

You pant, eyes squeezed shut as you can’t hold off any longer. It takes moments before you’re cumming down his throat, cock throbbing and the sensations make your nails dig into your palms as you ride the intense orgasm.

Dieter moans, trying to swallow as much as he can but it’s too much too fast. The taste of his cum so much richer on your body’s tongue and he gulps you down greedily.

Your hips rock up to chase his mouth but he pulls back, cum dripping down his chin, and you whimper when he takes you deep again to clean you off. "Fuck. Oh shit." You exhale shakily, eyes closed as you slump against the sofa.

Dieter’s clit is throbbing, needing attention as he wipes his chin clean with his fingers and shoves it in his mouth. Wanting every drop he can have. “Now you know why I love a good blow job, how was it?”

“So good.” You murmur and notice the hungry look in his eyes. “Bed. Wanna - wanna eat you out on a bed.” You tell him, shifting to stand up from the sofa and you kick your sweats off and pull the ratty t-shirt over your head to expose your body. “Come on baby. Bedroom. Now.”

Dieter follows you, feeling excited. Wanting to know what this feels like. Experiencing something he never thought he would ever have. The house even feels different walking through it with you and he palms his tits as he follows along behind you.

When you’re in his room, you turn to grab him, lifting him onto the bed with a hunger that surprises you. You grab his thighs, spreading them apart and you groan at the sight of his pussy. Glistening with arousal. “What turned you on so much baby?” You coo, kissing along his thigh.

“Fuck-“ Dieter whines, feeling like you are teasing him. “Sucking your cock. It was so-so sexy watching you cum.” He whispers when your breath washes over his hot cunt. “Touch me baby.”

“It’s so weird. Pleasuring your own body but fuck, I kinda like it. I know exactly what I like.” You say before you lean in, sliding your tongue through his folds, groaning at the tangy taste of your arousal. You’ve tasted yourself before but never like this. “Fuck. I like this.” You admit and flick your tongue over his clit.

Dieter cries out your name, surprised by how good it feels. “Oh fuck. More.” He begs, sliding a hand down to tangle his fingers into your hair. “This is so fucking good. I can’t believe you don’t have someone just between your thighs all the time.”

You chuckle into his wet flesh, “trust me, baby. I would if I could, but I haven’t found someone to volunteer to do that just yet. Most men don’t even like doing this. They see it as a chore.” You reveal and lean forward to suck his clit into your mouth, moaning to let the vibrations go through his body.

“I love eating pussy.” Dieter groans, rocking his hips up. “Especially when they are on my face and sucking my cock at the same time. Everyone- oh fuck, everyone enjoys themselves.”

Your spent cock twitches at that thought as you lap at his clit and slide your tongue lower to push it into his cunt. Your fingers dig into his thighs, pushing them back so you can push your tongue even deeper.

“Oh fuck baby, eat my pussy.” Dieter moans, trying to rock his hips down so he can push your tongue deeper. Desperate to cum from the sensations, his fingers pinch his nipples and he moans prettily as you play your own body perfectly.

You moan into his flesh, loving how tangy the taste is as you flick your tongue over his clit and suck it into your mouth. Your fingers slide down until you are pushing two into his pussy and curling them while eyes focus on your own face but you see Dieter in your eyes.

“Oh shit! Oh shit!” He cries as the knot in his stomach twists tight and breaks. Heat and pleasure rushing through his core and making him shake apart under your tongue. Flooding your mouth with his cum like he had never experienced before.

You groan, loving the way he shakes beneath your tongue and you lap up every drop. Your fingers work him through it until you pull them free, cock hard and aching as you grind into the mattress. “Wanna fuck you. I have an IUD and I’m clean.” You tell him, wanting him to know your health, “want me to wear a condom?”

Dieter moans, loving the thought of feeling all of you - him. It’s all mixed together in his mind at this point. “I- I’m clean too.” He pants out, thinking about his own body. “Haven’t slept with anyone but Monique since then and she-“ he shakes his head. “I want to feel you. Please, I want to feel you cum inside me.”

You nod, shifting to kneel between his thighs, reaching down to wrap your fingers around your cock, pumping it and groaning as you look down at what was formerly your body. “Shit. My tits are perky.” You murmur, realizing that he’s right as you shuffle closer to rub his clit with the head of your cock.

“Aren’t they?” He huffs proudly, pushing them up in his hands and moaning when he squeezes them. “Fucking love them. And my dick is big.”

You nod, looking down at the cock in your hand, “it is. Gonna - gonna feel so good.” You promise as you slowly start to push into him, groaning at the heat and wetness. “Fuck me. It’s so tight.” You groan, shifting closer to push deeper inside.

“Oh fuck.” Dieter’s mouth drops open and his eyes roll back as you push inside him. It’s so fucking different than anything else, but it’s amazing. The cock stretched him out and he clenches down around you playfully.

Your jaw drops, “Shit. No wonder some guys can’t hold off. This feels so good.” You moan, inhaling deeply to try to control yourself from cumming too soon. “Does it feel good?” You ask, wondering what his thoughts are about this.

“Fuck yesssssss.” He moans loudly, wrapping his arms around you and dragging his nails down your back. “Want more. Fuck me.”

You nod, "yes baby. Shit. Yes baby." You murmur, leaning down to kiss along his neck as you start to move. Your pace is awkward, unsteady as you try to adjust to something you've never done before.

He can feel how unsteady your thrusts are and he starts to roll his hips with you. His legs around the back of your thighs, pressing against your ass as he encourages you. Moaning your name when you push deep and kisses your clean shaven jaw. You had started shaving his face since being in his body, especially since the director liked the idea of Dieter with a clean cut look.

“Oh shit baby. Feel - feel so good. So fucking wet. God, didn’t know it could be this wet.” You confess as you push deeper and start to find a rhythm. “You need - tell me what you need.” You plead, wanting to make sure this is good for him before you cum too soon.

“Put- fuck, put my legs up on your shoulders.” Dieter pants out breathlessly. Knowing that the angle will feel amazing. “I’ll- I’ll rub my clit.”

You nod, shifting to grab his ankles, lifting them onto your shoulders, and you moan at the way he clenches around you. “Shit. That's - oh God. Rub your clit, baby. Rub it. Need you to cum.” You beg, getting closer as you rut into him.

Dieter does as you order, groaning your name when the angle strikes against something perfect inside him. “Fuck, fuck, I’m gonna cum.” He whines, rubbing the little bundle of nerves frantically and wishing that he could articulate how good this feels. “Make me cum, baby. Wanna soak you.”

You grunt, rocking into him again and again, keeping the same angle, and you groan when he clamps down on you. The gush of wetness makes your eyes roll into the back of your head as the sensation makes your cock twitch deep inside of him. “Fuckkkkk. I’m gonna cum.” You warn him, rocking frantically into him until you freeze, stiffening as your cock twitches and you paint his walls with your hot seed.

Dieter moans again, breathless at the sensation and he rocks his hips down, wanting more. It’s incredible and he swears that if he has to stay like this, it wouldn’t be so bad as long as you both just stay in bed. “Fuck baby, so good, feels so good.”

You nod, speechless in your agreement, and you lean in to press your lips to his. God, it’s so good. Feeling like this. Makes being stuck in this body tolerable. “Fuck. I think I love you, Dee.” You murmur, knowing that this time spent in the other’s body has made you realize how it is and you admit that you’ve been harsh in your criticism of him. You understand him now.

“I know I love you.” He sighs softly, aware that he’s been falling for you this entire time. Living in your body and understanding you better than he ever could have before. Even experiencing your period had been something that made him admire you. Even when he was curled on his side sobbing with a heat pad on his stomach.

You lean in to nudge your nose against his, knowing that even if you’re stuck in his body, you understand him better than anyone else. You love him. Even with all his flaws, he’s an incredible man. Talented beyond anything you realized and you love him for all of it. “Whatever happens, we have each other.” You murmur, kissing him softly.

His legs fall down into the crook of your arms as you hover over him, enjoying the closeness. “We have each other.” He mumbles against your lips. He’s not sure what’s going to happen but it will be okay if you are with him.

You hum, groaning as you let his legs back down to the mattress and slowly pull out of him. You moan at the sight of your cum pooling at his folds. “Shit. No wonder guys like watching that.” You murmur, “I feel possessive as fuck.” You chuckle and shuffle off of the bed to get a wet rag to clean him up.

“You should be.” He calls out after you. “It’s your body.” He feels boneless after you fucked him and he wonders how it’s so different from when he’s the one working the cock. ��Besides, my body, your body, you get to touch it anytime you want.”

You come back over to clean him up and grin, “and you get to touch me…your body whenever you want.” You promise and you hand him your shirt to put on once he’s cleaned up. “Want a snack?” You offer and he shakes his head, closing his eyes. “I’m tired. You wore me out. Nap time.” He declares and you nod, “nap sounds good.” You grab some boxers and shift to pull the covers back from the bed. Once you’re both under it, you pull him back into your chest, snuggling into him.

“Think you’re becoming a better Dieter than I am.” He pouts slightly, but too sleepily to really protest as he snuggles against you. “Night baby.”

You chuckle, “night baby.” You breathe him in and fall asleep curled around him, the exhaustion seeping into your bones.

****

The light shines through the curtains, having forgotten to put down Dieter’s blackout blinds, and you wince as you wake up. It’s early morning. You and Dieter slept through the night and you feel him curled around you. Unsure of when you switched positions, you reach down to remove his arm from your waist and you gasp when you see the tattoos and rings that aren’t on the body you’re in. “Oh my God.” You gasp out, your hand shifting to your chest and you choke when you come into contact with your breast. “Oh my God.” You say a little louder and you shift to sit up, looking down at Dieter. “Dieter. Wake up. Wake up!” You shout, shaking his shoulder.

“What? What is it?” His eyes peel open and he blinks several times, feeling the grittiness of the contacts. Frowning slightly as he sits up. He doesn’t wear contacts. “What happened?”

“We switched back!” You announce, shifting to straddle him, cupping his cheeks in your hands. “We are back in our own bodies.” You tell him, loving how sleepy he still looks.

“We are?” His eyes widen and he looks down, seeing tits on you instead of him. “Oh fuck! We’re back in our own bodies!” He yelps, completely confused on what is different now. “Holy shit, you’re so fucking sexy.” He intones seriously.

You fluster, your fingers caressing his neck down to his chest. “So are you and I - I know you now. I know you and I love you. I got the calls from your parents. The calls from your manager and your agent and your friends. I understand you and the way you are and I love you.” You declare softly, meeting his dark gaze. “Doesn’t hurt that you’re incredibly sexy.” You smirk, playfully pinching his nipple.

He shudders out a breathy whine and bites his lip. “I know you do so much for me. You make my life so much easier and I want to show you how much I appreciate it.” His cock, already hard, twitches under the sheet pooled at his waist. “Can I make you cum this time? Me in my body and you in yours? Do you want to have sex with me?”

You nod, leaning in to nudge your nose against his. “Yes. I want you to fuck me, Dee. In our own bodies. Wanna experience you.” You murmur before you brush your lips against his. He doesn’t waste time deepening the kiss, his hand coming up to cradle the back of your head and you whimper into the kiss, grinding down onto him.

It’s almost disorienting to be back in his body but it’s comforting at the same time. Dieter twists and pushes you down onto the bed before he pulls away from the kiss. “So that means I get to show you my pussy eating skills.” He teases with a grin before ducking his head and wrapping his lips around your nipple.

You moan and sink your fingers into his hair. “You better make me cum, I made you cum last night.”

He chuckles against your skin, wanting to make sure you know that he had been paying attention when you had been touching your body. “I will.”

You sigh, loving how he kisses down your stomach as he settles between your thighs, just like you did last night in his body. “God, Dee.” You whimper when he kisses along your thigh, “I need you.” You whine softly when he continues teasing you, your pussy wet for him already.

“I’ll make sure you’re taken care of.” He murmurs as he kisses your thigh and then up your mound. “Just want to get a good look at this pretty pussy. So hard to see it with a mirror.”

You gasp when he pushes your thighs further apart and the cool air hits your overheated flesh. Wetness makes the cool air practically caress your skin. “Shit.” You whimper, shifting to look at his face as he gets his first good look at your pussy.

Dieter is in awe, his fingers sliding up and down the edge of your folds as he takes it in. “So fucking gorgeous.” He groans, leaning in and burying his tongue into your cunt impatiently. Desperate to taste you properly.

“Oh fuck.” You choke, back arching as his tongue dives deep and that infamous nose presses against your clit. “Dee. Oh God.” You moan, slumping back against the pillows as he starts to feast on you.

He hums, smirking into your folds as he tries to take you apart, lick by lick. Loving your sharp, tangy taste and pulling your clit into his mouth to suckle on it harshly and he moves to push two fingers inside your slick walls.

You cry out, clenching around his fingers as he pushes them deeper inside of you. “Fuck baby. Oh God.” You choke as he sucks on your clit, “baby baby baby.” You moan as he curls them and makes your cunt gush. “So close. Gonna cum for you.” You murmur, walls fluttering around his fingers until you clench around them.

He loves that you are so vocal. That you are pushing your hips down onto his face and fingers. He curls his tongue around your clit again before he sucks it back into his mouth again. Wanting you to cum for him, wanting to see what it looks like on your body.

It doesn’t take long for you to fall apart. A cry ripping from your throat as you clamp down on his digits, soaking them as your thighs close around his face, keeping him trapped and smothered by your pussy. “Deeee.” You squeal as you experience the intense rush of pleasure from his mouth.

He groans into your folds, loving how you squeal his name. Licking slowly as he works you through the pleasure until your thighs relax and he pulls back with a grin, smacking his lips.

You open your eyes to look at him, “come here.” You reach down to grab him, pulling him up to you so you can press your lips to his and wrap your legs around him. “I fucking love you. baby.” You murmur against his lips, “so much.”

“I love you too.” He promises, not having any issues pressing down on you and moaning over how good you feel. He loves how you feel with your legs wrapped around him. “Can I fuck you, baby?” He asks quietly, as if being in different bodies might change your mind.

“Yes. Yes. Need you inside of me.” You beg, his hard cock pressing into your thigh and you reach down to take him into your hand. His groan vibrates against your chin as you pump him a couple of times before you notch him at your entrance. “Fuck me, Dieter.” You whisper as he starts to push into you.

Elbows braced on either side of you, his eyes flutter closed as he slowly fills you. “Fuuuuuuuck.” He hisses. “It’s so good, both bodies. It’s amazing.” He opens his eyes and looks down at you in wonder. “How are you so fucking good? You’re amazing.”

You giggle as you caress his neck, sliding your hands up into his hair as he gives you a moment to adjust to his length. “You’re amazing. I don’t know how I didn’t see it before. This - what’s between us - never could’ve seen it without being you, being in your body. That fucking witch from the coffee place…she - oh God.” You gasp as Dieter pulls out of you and slowly pushes back in, “God. Should find her and thank her.”

Dieter groans, kissing your jaw and down your neck. “Should. Owe her more than I could say.” He doesn’t try to set a speed record, he wants this to last. Wants to make love to you. “I love you, baby. Every inch of your gorgeous body and your brilliant mind.”

You tilt your head so he can kiss more of your skin. “I love all of you, Dee. Trash panda. Brilliant actor. Kind when you want to be. I get you. I know you and I love all of you.” You promise, “doesn’t hurt that you’re - oh God, right there - sexy as hell.”

He grunts, preening slightly at the praise. “There?” His hiss proceeds another thrust against that spot, moaning when you clench around him. “You’re sexier.”

“We are both sexy.” You concede, “gonna make beautiful babies.” You smile as he pushes into that spot again and your mouth falls open as your eyes close. “Fuck. You want babies?” You ask him breathlessly.

He twitches inside you harshly at the thought. Normally he would be running for the hills at the mere mention, but the thought of having babies with you doesn’t scare him. “Fuck yes.” He moans, rocking his hips harder. “Three- no, four. Boys and girls. Little monsters that look like you and act like me. Or look like me and act like you.”

You chuckle breathily, “four babies. Better get started soon, my love.” You tell him as he continues to push into you. “Wanna have your babies. I think you’d be a good daddy.” You tell him, caressing his back as he continues working you towards an orgasm.

He grunts, knowing that you will keep him straight. You’ve been amazing and he knows you will be a good mother. “Take out your IUD.” He challenges you. “Knock you up as soon as you do. Want to see you pregnant.”

You nod, “I’ll make an appointment.” You know this is crazy but all you can do is know that you know Dieter is the one for you. You’ve seen all of him, literally been in his shoes, you know him and you want him. Even the dark bits that no one else sees. “Baby. Oh. That’s - I like that.” You confess as his pelvis grinds against yours, rubbing your clit just right. “Gonna make me cum like that.”

“Good.” He moans, keeping his pelvis against yours as he grinds deep. “Want you to cum. Need to feel it like this. So good for me baby.”

“Gonna - oh shit. Dee!” You cry out as you clamp down on his cock, soaking him and moaning as you cum around him. Lights flash behind your eyes as you squeeze them shut and moan at the way he works you through it while you shake beneath him.

You’re gorgeous when you cum. Groaning your name, he tries to push his hips forward but your are locked down around him like a vice. His cock throbbing and he feels his balls pull up. “Gonna cum.” He chokes out, tumbling over the edge after you and collapsing against your body as he fills you.

You sigh, caressing his back as he rests his weight on top of you and you feel so at home. “So fucking good baby.” You murmur, kissing along his jaw until he presses his lips to yours, soft and sweet. “I love you.” You whisper as he relaxes above you.

“I love you too, baby.” He hums giddily, snuggling into your neck and sighing softly as he catches his breath. “What a fucking story we have.” He muses, knowing no one would ever believe it.

****

“DJ, hold still.” Dieter grumbles as he tries to affix the broken part of his eldest child’s costume back onto his squirming body. “If you don’t, I can’t fix it and you can’t go as The Mandalorian. You want to be Din, right?”

You smile as you adjust Ella’s outfit. She wanted to go as Padme and your other son, Sammy, is dressed as Darth Vader. Dieter is dressed like Han Solo and you are dressed as Leia. The youngest, Ollie, is dressed like Grogu. “Lemme try.” You say, gently taking over from Dieter as he struggles with the jet pack. You manage to get it fixed and smile, “there you go, my love. All fixed.” You stand up and grin, “now who wants to go get candy?” You ask and the kids cheer. The Sherman Oaks neighborhood is surprisingly kid friendly as people set up displays outside their large homes and have candy waiting - some pick the expensive shit from Erewhon - and some have regular candy. “Mommy?” Ella asks as you hold her hand while Dieter carries Ollie.

“Yes, sweetheart?” You ask as she looks up at you. “You and daddy fell in love on Halloween, right?” She asks innocently and you grin, looking over at Dieter who winks at you.

“Yes we did.” You nod and she asks, “why did you fall in love?” She asks and you bite your lip, knowing the truth is more than anyone could handle, especially a five year old.

“You wanna take this one, babe?” You as Dieter with a smirk.

Dieter bites his lip and hums thoughtfully. “Mommy was really pretty in her costume.” Dieter tells his kids, who look at him eagerly. “She made daddy realize that he wanted to kiss her.”

You giggle when DJ wrinkles his nose, “ewww. Mommy and Daddy kissing.” He makes a noise of disgust and the other kids all join in, making you lean in to give Dieter a soft kiss.

“And I wanted daddy to kiss me. Then we fell in love. And then all of you came along.” You say, knowing that this story will be better for them to understand. “Now, let’s go get candy.” You try to distract them and it works as they continue walking to the next house.

“That was sweet.” You murmur as Dieter wraps his arm around your waist to pull you close after he sets down Ollie and holds his hand.

“Mommy looks really pretty in her costume tonight. Shame you didn’t go with the other Leia outfit we saw.” He says, raising his eyebrows.

“Oh don’t you worry, baby. That’s waiting at home for me to put on after the kids are asleep.” You promise, a wicked glint in your eye.

“I can’t wait.” He chuckles. Since that night you switched back, there’s never been a time where you’ve changed bodies again and even though he wanted to thank her, the witch from the party never resurfaced again. So neither one of you could express how thankful you are that she had cast her spell over you, allowing you both to walk a mile in the other’s shoes. It had led to this moment and there wasn’t a Halloween party that Dieter would rather be at than this one right here with the four beautiful kids he has with you, his wonderful wife.

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