#first time drawing Dieter let's go

[parmsnik]

A semi official poster I made for my friend @marbarmars 's lsoh m&l au! Please check her and this au out if you get the chance!

[ozarkthedog]

𝐛𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞

summary: it's been years since Dieter last saw you, his childhood friend and the unrequited love of his life. still, he doesn’t blame you for leaving.

pairing: Dieter Bravo x gn!childhood friend!reader

warnings: angst but with a happy ending! mentions of drug use and alcohol but nothing graphic. w.c: 1.0k

an: for @punkshort AU August writing challenge, I was given the prompt, “childhood friend with Dieter Bravo” thank you so much for hosting! huge thanks to @ghotifishreads for letting me talk your ear off about this little idea that took on a life of it's own and for reading this over. ilu!

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭 ⋅ 𝐋𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 ⋅ 𝐃𝐢𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐁𝐫𝐚𝐯𝐨 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭

Dieter rubs a hand over his face as he steps from the SUV into a throng of flashing lights and frantic screaming. It was the premiere of his first directorial and writing debut; a lot was riding on this.

Sure, he'd won an Oscar and various other award nominations, but this was an entirely different beast. This movie was special to him. It was the first script he wrote after getting "clean." He always scoffed at that word. Clean. Was he pure and holy now simply because he kicked hard drugs to the curb?

He takes a deep, slow breath, adjusts his velvet purple suitcoat, and moves down the red carpet. He autographs cards and pictures, takes selfies, and banters with a few fans before moving on to the press.

It doesn't feel right being here alone, he thinks, his left side feeling raw and exposed like a wound that never healed. 

After rewriting the script several times, he has his assistant mail it to a few studio execs before having them print out one last copy. He wrote down your name and told them to send you the script. He wanted to deliver it to you in person; it felt like the right thing to do, but he couldn't be sure you ever wanted to see him again after what he put you through.

He's stronger these days. Mentally and physically healthier. He's lost a bit of weight now that he's no longer downing pills and chasing them with alcohol. It took him a while to get used to feeling again. Sitting with the uncomfortable thoughts and not letting them take control. He's proud of himself. He thinks you would be, too. 

You.

Seeing a large open field littered with red flowers while driving home from rehab for the second time kicked him square in the gut. Flashes of his youth came back in vivid, blinding colors.

Chasing his dog, Dali, around the yard. Playing with you in the field of wildflowers behind your house. His throat tightens.

You.

You were his reason. The sun he revolved around—inseparable childhood friends.

When you first met Dieter, he was covered in chalk dust, drawing funky, green aliens with big eyes on the sidewalk in front of his childhood home. You'd just moved in next door, and your Mother told you to go make friends. He looked at you in awe as you stood before him, the sun creating a golden crown around your head. "Wanna be friends?" you blurted before kneeling and pestering him about his chalk alien.

From that moment on, you were forever linked. Dieter never wanted anyone else.

From scabbed knees and hide & seek to strange body changes and long school days. Consoling Dieter after he's pushed into a locker, copying each other's homework, watching Dieter shine on the theater stage, and spending almost every minute together that you could.

He wondered if you ever felt the love he held for you—the love that surpassed sibling bonds and grew stronger every time he laid eyes on you. The love that made him self-conscious and shy away from speaking his truth despite years of yearning. He couldn't convince himself to jeopardize the friendship or that you might possibly feel the same.

Cut to Dieter asking you to move to LA with him to be his assistant once his star power steadily rose. 

To the elaborate movie sets and lavish premieres, to the long nights and unspoken feelings. 

To find Dieter on the floor with vomit spilling from his lips to the empty bottles of pills and booze splayed around his Hollywood Hills home. 

The bickering, the raging parties, and the friendship that was slowly dying. 

The shell of a man he used to be. 

You were never around when he needed you the most after he drowned himself in booze and pills. He never blamed you. He was often inebriated, covered in a mess of sweat and other fluids. You could only stand to see him self-medicate for so long. 

"I can't keep doing this," he remembers you saying as tears welled in your eyes and your bottom lip trembled while he sat in a crumpled heap at the foot of his unmade bed with that usual glazed look. "I can't keep trying to save you."

He remembers wanting to argue, to save whatever piece was left. He tried to chase after you, but his brain and body were still under the haze from the night before, limbs heavy as lead weights, and they no longer listened to his commands. 

How your face twisted with a devastating sadness made his heart shatter. He never meant this to happen, for it to get this bad.

Had Dieter known the repercussions, that the last image he'd have of you would be wiping fallen tears that he caused from your cheeks, he would've gotten clean eons before. He would've let this version of himself die without a second thought. He wanted to be the man you counted on, with your best interests at heart. 

The man you knew him to be.

—

Just as he's about to step into the theater, he hears a voice call his name—a voice that would wake him from the dead. 

You.

His heart aches; it bursts with unnerving energy as he watches you approach. His gaze never leaves you as you glide across the room to where he stands, frozen. Could he be hallucinating?

"Hi D," his nickname sounds like heaven as it leaves your lips. He never wants it to end; he wants to hear it forever. "I'm sorry I didn't reach out sooner. I needed to make sure I was in a good headspace to see you again." You nervously wring your fingers, and Dieter can't stop himself from reaching out and locking your hands together, calming your combined anxious energy.

"It's okay," he whispers, throat tight, holding back elated tears, "I'm glad you're here."

A smile tugs at your lips, eyes shiny with your own tears. "Me too."

feel free to scream at me -> 💌

reblogs & comments are extremely appreciated! follow @ozzieslibrary for new fic updates!

[pidgeispunk]

Pedro Pascal Character Headcannons — Cuddles.

Joel Miller:

Joel can’t help but want to protect you, he revels in the way you fit so perfectly into his arms, back pressed flush against his chest. One arm drapes lazily over your waist, hand finding your abdomen to keep you close. His calloused fingers draw small circles over the skin, slipping a hand underneath the fabric of your shirt. His other arm is occupied cushioning your head, outstretched for you to rest your head on. You’ll have one hand lifted to hold the hand on said arm, fiddling with his fingers as the two of you chat quietly about whatever. Your legs are tangled with his, at some point his hand will travel down and push you back until your hips are pressed into his, fully spooning you now. His head is either pushed into your neck from behind, nose against your exposed shoulder as he inhales the smell of you. Not your perfume or body spray, you. Occasionally he’ll rest his chin on top of your head, but he much prefers burying his face in your hair, trying to get as close as possible.

Javier Peña:

It took Javier a little while to get into the habit of cuddling with you while you slept. Usually he’d just have a hand in yours, eventually letting go of it as he fidgeted in his sleep. Once he had learnt he could really trust you, that you might just be the one, he was able to admit just how bad he wanted sleepy cuddles. He expressed his love for the way your head tucks under his chin when you lay on his chest, curled up at his side with an arm draped over his torso. His arm would most likely be around your shoulders, thumb digging into the knots he could find in your shoulder blades, earning sleepy groans from your lips. One of your legs would be tossed over his, knee up by his abdomen as his other hand happily takes place holding that thigh. Sometimes he even lets you sleep on his back, on particularly hot nights when all he can do is toss the duvet away. Lying on his front with his arms folded beneath his head, your head nestles between his shoulder blades.

Frankie Morales:

You knew Frankie was a fan of cuddles right away, just from the way he hugged you. The way he held the back of your head was mirrored when the two of you were tangled up in bed, letting you settle yourself nice and comfy right on top of him. Your legs rested either side of his body, arms tucked around his torso with your hands wedged between his back and the olive toned sheets. At first his hands would be holding the plush of your waist, thumbs rubbing back and forth as he told you about his day, finding himself rambling about his helicopter for god’s sake. Throughout the night you would slump into his body, head pushed into his neck as his hands moved to your back. One hand would settle at the small of your back, occasionally running up and down along your spine. His other hand would take to your hair, fingers carding through it as he let his nails lightly scratch at your scalp.

Din Djarin:

Din wasn’t too big on cuddles, the times you slept together started as each of you just lying on your own sides on the bed. However, it eventually turned to something much more intimate, and vulnerable. Din relished in you being the big spoon, the way you would croon your head down to settle over his shoulder, sometimes pressing kisses to his bare back and scarred shoulder blades. Your arm would undoubtedly be around his waist, and you soon found he would always seek out your hand during the night. He’d lace his fingers with yours, and pull your hand right up to his chest, to his heart. His other arm would stay tucked under his pillow, a favoured position since he was young.

Dieter Bravo:

Dieter is a big fan of cuddling. The moment you two get into bed he’s wriggling his way down and between your legs, settling his head comfortably against your abdomen. He doesn’t mind where your legs were, over his shoulders, splayed down beside his body, his hands would always find your thighs. Sometimes he’s on his front, head turned sideways on your abdomen as your fingers stroke down his neck, nails tracing over the slope of his shoulders. Other times he’s on his back, arms tucked under your thighs as he feels your fingers card through his fluffy hair, occasionally humming at the way you gently massage at his scalp.

Marcus Moreno:

Marcus always want to see your face, he likes the idea of falling asleep with your features fresh in his mind. However, he’ll probably end up tugging you closer by the waist, until your head settles in the crook of his neck and he’s able to wrap both arms around you. He doesn’t miss the way you slip a leg between his, your own arms folded at your chest between the two of your bodies. His head rests above yours, a perfect position for him to be able to press kisses to the top, letting his lips linger there for a moment. He’s even fallen asleep with his mouth pressed to your head once.

[trulybetty]

two-pack habit & a motel tan

pairing: lucien flores x f!reader word count: 1,712 warnings: M | spoilers? cigarettes, alcohol, angsty in parts, aside from being noted as having breasts no other descriptions of reader estimated reading time: 7 minutes summary: no matter how hard you try, you find yourself coming back every time ao3: linked

A/N: Honestly, not sure what I'm doing as I know nothing about this movie and character other than those tiny clips from yesterday. I tagged it spoilers, but really this is a stab in the dark, because while writing this, this could have easily been Dieter, so who knows? Hopefully you enjoy this!

two-pack habit & a motel tan.

The room was dark, the only light that came was from the street lights outside. The cheap gaudy curtains disturbed by the forced air from the air conditioner unit swung lazily casting shadows across the green shag carpet. On the small round table beneath the window sat two empty bottles of beer and an overflowing ashtray, a cigarette hung on its lip, its embers still glowing despite being disregarded. The television flickered on a muted late-night talk show, its dull illumination serving only to highlight the lingering haze of smoke in the air. 

Lucien was sprawled out on the creaky bed, barefoot with his shirt unbuttoned halfway down his chest. His dark brown curls were tousled, his dark eyes staring into nothingness as he took another drag from his cigarette. 

The click of the bathroom door opening drew his attention as you walked out, damp hair and wearing an oversized t-shirt that had seen better days, one that you had stuffed in your bag earlier that afternoon on your way out. Lucien’s eyes followed the trail of water droplets that traced your collarbone and disappeared beneath the threadbare and distressed collar of the shirt.

He sat up, patting the space next to him, inviting you to join him on the bed. You hesitated for a moment before relenting, moving across the room and climbing onto the bed knee first.

“Feel better?” He inhaled deeply before turning his head to exhale the smoke from his cigarette, all the while his gaze had followed the line of your bare legs.

You nodded, settling in next to him. He took one more drag of his cigarette before he stubbed it out. Turning back to you, his hand, warm and calloused settled on your thigh just below the hem of your shirt. 

“Don’t know why you bothered to get dressed doll,” his smokey voice intoned as he moved his hand an inch higher, this thumb tracing patterns on your skin as his other hand played with the chain around his neck, running the St. Anthony charm between his fingers out of habit. 

His dark eyes met yours, a playful challenge in their depths. You looked away, your heart pounding in your ears, trying to remember the reasons why you’d said this wasn’t going to originally happen in the first place.

“Luce,” you started, but he cut you off with a laugh that was laced with a tinge of bitterness.

“You’re going to tell me this is a bad idea again, right?” he said cynically as his fingers continued to draw meaningless shapes on your skin. 

He leaned back against the worn headboard, pulling you with him and over to straddle his waist.

“You know it is,” you murmured but made no move to escape his grip, your hands instinctively settling on his chest. His heart beating rapidly beneath your touch, echoing the beat of your own. 

He raised his eyebrow, a smirk playing at the corner of his lips, “Yeah, but we’re not exactly known for making good decisions now are we?” His fingers slipped beneath the hem of the oversized shirt, making your breath hitch in your chest. His fingers not finding the material of your panties at your hips he gave you an almost smug impressed look, “Well, this is certainly a surprise.”

You couldn’t help the smirk on your lips as you leant down, yours meeting his. The lack of underwear had been a conscious one despite your reservations about even being in that motel room, to begin with. He let out a low groan into your mouth, as his fingers traced a path up your side. His thumb brushed the underside of your breast, causing you to gasp. He laughed, a deep warm sound that vibrated against your lips.

You tanged your fingers in his already tousled curls as his traced their way back down your sides, his hands cupping your bare hips. The feel of the denim of his jeans licked at your core and you couldn’t ignore the surge of desire that pooled in your belly. The scent of his cigarettes on the air, intertwined with the taste on his lips, unspoken promises hung heavy between the two of you, your hips buckled in an all too familiar motion seeking release.

His lips moved from yours, tracing a fiery path over your jaw and down your neck. You tilted your head back, allowing him better access as he trailed hot open-mouthed kisses over your skin.

“Jesus, you are so—” he sucked in a breath as your fingers with reluctance left his hair and slid underneath the barely buttoned-up silk shirt, your nails dragging up his torso to his chest, “maddening,” he murmured when he found his voice.

“I could say the same about you,” you retorted as you pulled his shirt up and over his head.

When you got his text that afternoon you knew where it would lead, it was an all too familiar path you couldn’t help but revisit again and again. For all his flaws, Lucien was a magnet that drew you in, each time harder than before.

His chest bared, the dim light from the nightstand lamp cast a soft glow between the two of you. Your fingers traced the fine outline of the chains around his neck until they reached the pendant that lay below the hollow of his throat. As you looked at St. Anthony, the irony was not lost on you. He was the patron saint of those who were lost, and here he was standing between you and the man who you continuously found yourself drawn back to, despite your many attempts to distance yourself from him altogether.

His lips found yours again, his teeth nipped at your bottom lip, teasing as you tried to go in for another kiss. His hand snaked up your back, coming to rest at your neck, his thumb massaging your nape. His thumb pressed in just the right spot that managed to undo you and have you mewing in response. He grinned with the knowledge that he knew your body better than anyone else ever could, better perhaps even than you knew yourself.

“Tell me,” he whispered, his voice husky as he toyed with the hem of the shirt you were wearing. “Tell me you want this,” he lifted your shirt, pushing it up to your chest before you took over and pulled it over your head. His brown eyes appeared even darker with his pupils blown wide with anticipation.

“I want this,” you said meeting his gaze, your voice barely above a whisper before in one swift movement he rolled you onto your back. 

His hands roamed your body freely now, tracing all too familiar patterns they knew so well; the curve of your breasts, the dip of your waist, the softness of your thighs.

As his lips met yours once more, your fingers traced the waistband of his jeans making short work of the button and fly. He groaned when you freed him from the confines of the denim, taking your time to run your hand appreciatively up and down his length, a low, throaty sound that made your heart skip a beat.

You knew that this should be the last time, but you weren’t trying to fool yourself. You knew there’d be another. It was a constant push and pull between the two of you that was years in at this point. There’d be no way the two of you could make a relationship out of what fractured pieces this already was, but you knew the minute he’d call, you’d come running. You knew it and he knew it, and as his warmth enveloped you, you couldn’t find it in your heart to care.

[chronically-ghosted]

Hey I love you and I’m having thots about vampire!Dieter and his hedonistic lifestyle and his lavish parties at his estate and how he invites you up to show you his private rooms and he-

Oh, you mean like when he asks you about your--

Pairing: dieter bravo x f!reader

Warnings: flirting, a bit of blood, maybe dubcon due to The Thrall but i think it's safe to say we all want It from vampire!dieter, unbeta-ed because i needed to write something or someone was going to die

A/N: look at what you've done @sp00kymulderr you've gone and given a perfectly good fic LORE

“Theories.”

“What?” 

Dieter’s smirk pulls his mouth and his head towards the floor-to-ceiling windows. He rubs his fingers together, his wrist dangling over the edge of the deep-backed leather chair. The clean lines of his Armani pants and wing-tipped shoes give him the impression of leaning forward, as if he intended to tumble right through those windows and out into the party below. The music is muted, smothered, but the lights illuminate the sky like the sun beneath the waves. 

“Your theories. About all of this. About my dad, granddad. Everyone who’s ever walked in here – press or not –,” he lazily drags his gaze up from your ass to your tits for the third time that night, “– has had some wild theories that I just love to listen to. Little bedtime stories to put me to sleep. So let’s hear ‘em.”

You had doubts about this dress when you left your apartment but you have to dig your nails into your palms to keep from tugging it back down over your thighs because you know you have something every time Dieter looks at you. Maybe not for long, but you might be the first person in fifty years to walk out of here with something to say.

Your heart suddenly fluttering higher in your throat, you turn away towards the movie memorabilia lining the walls in glass shelves to give him the angle he’s been inching towards all night. Over your shoulder, you see his eyes drop – predictably. You let the line out a bit more and bend at the waist to examine the original glove from The Natural. 

“I’m sure you’ve heard them all, Mr. Bravo. The mystery around your family is nearly as old as Hollywood itself so I’m sure there’s nothing I can say that you haven’t heard before. Which reminds me . . .” You straighten up and, by some miracle, he meets your eyes, gaze no longer wandering. “Why me?” 

His mouth curls, but it’s the glint in his eyes that shows razor-sharp teeth. 

“I’ve always admired the brevity of wit, but you’re going to have to be more specific.”

Your jacket creaks when you cross your arms, eyebrow arched. “I’ve been with The Mezzanine for five years with half-a-dozen bylines under my belt. There’s a list of more experienced reporters a mile long. Why, after ignoring every press inquiry for the past twenty years, did you ask me to interview you? Oh, and consider this my first official question.” 

With an expansive inhale, Dieter draws himself to his feet. He takes a few steps towards the windows, just before the light catches the shine of his shoes. 

“Give me a theory and I’ll answer your question.”

You frown at his broad shoulders. Streaks of fuschia and green and gold tangle in his curls, setting the ends on fire. You think of those electric lamps under your grandfather’s porch that drew in moths with dust brown wings. Moths that ended up dead on the wooden floor. 

You find yourself inches from his left shoulder. 

“That’s not how these things usually go, Mr. Bravo.” 

“Humor the old hermit.” He grins and the smell of spice and smoke and lineage blooms in your nose. You school your face, swallowing down your beating heart. 

“The mob. So why me?”

Dieter chuckles. “The mob?”

“Happened to Frank Sinatra, didn’t it?”

“I don’t appreciate the comparison,” Dieter sneers. “Blue Eyes was an asshole and an idiot.”

You turn towards him, your turn to grin. “Speaking from personal experience?”

“Yes, actually.” 

“Unbelievable.” You roll your eyes and wander back towards the cabinet. It’s now you notice the odd placement of the couch and chairs in front of the memorabilia. As if hours were spent staring at them. “Do you have anything to drink?”

Dieter blinks at you. “Uh. No. Do you want me to call up for one?”

“No, Mr. Bravo, I want you to answer my question: why me?”

“Because you care.”

Dieter turns away from the lights, the music, the night and stares at you. The teasing sparkle, the sardonic grin – they’re gone. A different man stands before you – one with the same beautiful set of curls, with the same soft eyes. But you see something on his face you didn’t think was possible: yearning. 

“Everyone who ever came here only wanted a piece of me. Of this. Of my legacy. In fifty years, no one has ever wanted to know the magic in the movies. The magic of . . .” Dieter laughs quietly, joylessly. He looks around and runs his tongue against his upper teeth. “The mob? C’mon, you can do better than the mob.”

You take a step forward. Electric lamps be damned.

“I’m doing a terrible job of interviewing you.”

“Hardly.” His lips pout before pulling back into a grin. “We’re getting to know each other.”

Another step. 

“One for one?”

“Of course.”

“Then in debt to the US government for World War II propaganda. Why did your grandfather step out of the spotlight at the peak of his career?”

“Ford was as much a nazi as any of them and no Bravo would ever stoop so low, so no. And Grandpappy Bravo had health issues.”

“He was forty-five.”

“Forty-two, actually. The same age I am now.” He grins down at you and you find yourself staring up at him. Had his eyes always had that golden circle in the center?

“Give me another theory.”

“Drugs – boring but reliable. Why was your father so secretive about his role as a financial backer during the 60s movie revival?”

“He hated the attention, as much as a Bravo can. You’re getting closer.”

“It was drugs?” You tear your gaze that had somehow slipped to his lips back up to his eyes, but Dieter shakes his head.

“A drug of some kind, but not the kind you’re thinking of. A powerful drug. The most powerful.”

“Yeah? And what would that be?”

“Life itself.” Again, you see his teeth and without your control, your heart leaps into your throat. You narrow your eyes against the brilliant light of his mouth.

“Why do you care so much about my theories?”

“Because you’re not asking the right questions. You’re close, but not quite.” 

His hand floats against your jaw, fingertips crackling in the millimeter above your skin, and that spicy scent floods your brain in a sudden avalanche that makes your knees wobble. You huff, dizzy, a fog settling across your mind, and you put a hand against his chest to keep you from stumbling. His thumb drags against your bottom lip and that bright sensation becomes a focus point by which the entire universe revolves around. 

His eyes are entirely golden now.

“Ask the question you’ve been begging to, darling.”

You swallow through the haze, through the pounding of your heart, through the heaviness of your knees, and the wetness in your underwear. 

“No,” you mumble, “I . . . Dieter, you’ll laugh.”

“Try me, sweetheart.” His other hand joins his first, cradling your jaw, dragging you closer. “I want to hear it.”

“I think you’re a vampire.” The words dribble off your numb lips but even through the lag, you know you’ve screwed up. Something has gummed up the crevices of your brain, but that’s not the thing to say to the highly-eccentric social recluse you’ve put your career at risk to interview. 

“Dieter, I’m sorry – I-I-I didn’t mean–,”

But he laughs. Laughs and your moth wings get caught in the light of the white gleam of his fangs. His hand slips to your waist as his thumb brushes your cheek, golden eyes anything but angry.

“I knew you were clever.” 

Your nails dig into his jacket where you don’t feel a heartbeat. Your knees want you to fall forward into him, but your elbows struggle as the last shreds of a survival instinct. 

“Dieter–,”

“Shh, darling, you are smart. Too smart for your own good. You knew the truth the second you walked in here and you did it anyway. But that big brain won’t let you believe it until you see it, so breathe, darling. Breath and it will be over in a minute.”

He lowers his face, his cold breath against your neck cracking through the haze, icing your heart. You whimper, afraid –

Afraid he’s going to kill you.

Afraid that you’ll let him.

A warm tongue saturates the skin of your neck and you realize there are devil faces in the wood carving of the ceiling, your head tipped back and arms wrapped around his shoulders. 

“No crying. I will make this very good for you.” 

You blink and the ice in your heart melts out the corner of your eyes, tears running off your cheeks.

“Will I die?”

Dieter lets out a noise that’s a whine and a groan all at once. “No. We’re not nearly done having fun.”

And he bites you.

Euphoria erupts across your skin, an electric pulse waking up every sense still left in your control. You shudder, then draw him closer. He groans, not a single drop of blood escaping to the carpet or your shirt or his jacket. He eats well and clean and there’s a part of you that entertains the idea of him losing control. 

But as quickly as it comes on, everything fades. Blackness comes on, thick and fast, and you hear him pull off your neck more than you feel it and his tongue is the last sensation you feel. 

“No, darling, by the end of this, you’ll be begging me for more.”

His promise is the last thing you hear before the darkness closes in on you completely. 

+

[wardenparker]

Alright, I have come out of the woodwork and I will now be A Nuisance. For your microfic celebration, please give me whoever you think will be the funniest with the prompt "I'm not getting you coffee, your order is ridiculous". You are my queen and I would die for you immediately upon request thank you for existing 😘

I know this prompt is very, very old, but let's have some fun with it! Co-written with the lovely and talented @absurdthirst.

Dieter Bravo. 1,173 words. "I'm not getting you coffee, your order is ridiculous." (Warnings: cursing, flirting, mention of drugs)

"There are a couple of things where I draw the line." Just because you had been assigned to be Dieter Bravo's assistant on set for this film did not mean you were going to make yourself a laughing stock for the Oscar winner. You're a professional and you have your dignity, dammit. That's why you're standing in his trailer having this conversation right now.

Dieter narrows his eyes in confusion and looks around. "It's a drink order, right?" He asks. "I didn't ask you to pick up my blow or order a hooker." He pauses, "unless you know some?" He waits for to you huff at him and shakes his head. "Never mind." He pouts. "It's just a coffee. A coffee I need." He groans. "I'm fucking hungover."

"I'm not getting you coffee, your order is ridiculous." Looking down at the sheet of allegedly useful facts about the star, you read off the insane, often contradictory order listed there. "Venti, half-caf, triple-shot, soy, no foam, extra whip, extra hot, upside-down, caramel drizzle, with seven pumps of caramel syrup and seven pumps of mocha syrup, double-blended Frappuccino." You heave a heavy sigh and look back up at him. "It's literally impossible, that order. You know that, right?"

Dieter gives you a skeptical look. "I order it all the time, what do you mean impossible?" He snorts, pushing up off the small sofa that is provided in his trailer and moves over to the trash can. "Where the fuck is it?"

"You can't order an extra-hot Frappuccino. Frappuccinos are frozen." Still, you are obligated to try to help this man, and you purse your lips watching him root around. "What are you looking for?"

"My cup." He looks behind him, shooting you a glare and then pulls out a wet wad of paper towel and tosses it on the floor. "From yesterday. Before the studio sent me a defective assistant."

"It was down to melted ice, so I threw it out." It's flat out annoying to find him hot when he growling at you like a pestered puppy, but facts are facts. "Make this order make sense, and I'll get you one four times a day with no complaint."

"It was on the cuuuuuuup." He whines, throwing out a paper bag that probably held the sushi he had ordered yesterday when he suddenly had a craving and insisted his character loved tuna rolls. "Where is it?"

"I have the order right here." Again, you hold up your clipboard to show him the sheet of neatly organized information about himself that his regular assistant had sent over to the production company. Why she wasn't here, you don't know. "But you can't have a drink that's both frozen and hot, so it makes no sense."

"Can you just order my drink?" He huffs, whirling back around when he reaches the bottom of the can and there isn't that cup in there. You must have thrown it away somewhere else, which irritates him.

"Do you want it hot or frozen?" This absolute nonsense needs to be taken care of right now, otherwise this entire shoot is going to be as ridiculous as this moment.

"I want an extra hot Frappacino." He throws his hands up. "What is so hard about this?" He demands, looking at you like you are a complete idiot. This movie is a piece of shit, so it's fitting they hired the same caliber of people to work on it that they did to write it.

You're starting to actually question whether or not you know anything about Starbucks coffees in the first place or if you've just gone around on this so many times that you're actually starting to go a little mad. "You're getting a frozen drink." You decide, putting a stop to all of this craziness before your head starts to spin.

"Extra hot." Dieter nods, looking almost happy that you have decided to get his drink. He turns back to the table to grab his script. "Now I can learn these shitty lines once I have my coffee." He flips open the page and squints so he can try to read the small font. He needs glasses, but his vanity wouldn't allow that.

Groaning to yourself, you turn on your heel and open the trailer door again, cursing your stupid ass decision to ever become an on set assistant in the first place. "No," you mumble once you're out of earshot. "A Frappuccino is frozen, not hot."

Why do the hot ones always have to be completely off their rockers?

There is a certain routine that Dieter goes through when preparing for a role. He loves to find the character's voice. Repeating the lines in different cadences and tones, throwing his pitch until he feels that it reflects the character's personality. "How do you do it?" He warbles, sounding a little like Christopher Walken as he runs through the lines and huffs as he finds it too pitchy and waves his hand around again. "How do you do it?" He growls slightly, dropping his tone and making his voice more gravelly.

When you come back twenty minutes later from the Starbucks on the lot, it is after a world of conferencing with the very sweet barista who apparently made his convoluted as fuck order yesterday before the other on set assistant refused to work with him anymore. The girl had laughed, told you she steamed the milk for the drink to aerate it before putting everything in the blender, and just shrugged. 'Movie stars' she had intoned like it excused everything at all. "Coffee is here." You announce in your most neutral tone possible, while Dieter is prancing around his trailer talking to himself in as many different voices as he can muster.

"Oh thank God." The script is practically tossed over his shoulder as Dieter rushes forward to take the drink, straw already in it and immediately taking a large sip. Groaning as he swallows several mouthfuls before he sighs. "Perfect." He praises, eyeing you with a new found respect since you had gotten his order right. Coffee was life and now you are the bringer of life to him. Dieter tilts his head, finding it rather sexy when you roll your eyes. "Do you want to have sex with me?"

There needs to be a girl version of the saying 'Never stick your dick in crazy', because for just a split second, you actually consider it. Instead, shaking off the haze, you swallow down the impulse answer and pierce him with your most withering expression. "If you behave yourself, I'll think about it," you bargain, wondering if what you've heard about him being completely submissive is true.

"Amazing." Dieter practically beams at you, his cock twitching in his baggy sweats and he takes another sip of his venti, half-caf, triple-shot, soy, no foam, extra whip, extra hot, upside-down, caramel drizzle, with seven pumps of caramel syrup and seven pumps of mocha syrup, double-blended Frappuccino. "I'll be a good boy." He promises, content with his coffee and now daydreaming of having sex with you.

______

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My Masterlist!

[wildemaven]

Sweet Creature: Chapter Eight

Pairing: Dieter Bravo x F!Reader

WC: 4643

Warnings: 18+ Blog; Talks of failed relationships, Bi!Dieter, Fingering (public, F receiving), food and drinks, fluff fluff fluff, handy in the car, praise kink if you squint, oral (semi-ish public; F receiving), reader’s nickname is Poppy- zero physical description, these two hot dogs are just trying to make up for lost time, if I missed something let me know

A/N: Uhh, this chapter ran away from me. But it worked out cause now these two get some lovin’ and we get an extra chapter! Thanks so much @gnpwdrnwhiskey for being the sweetest beta reader as always— I appreciate you and your eyes so much!!

Series Masterlist / Playlist / Main Masterlist

Previous / Next

“You don’t think she’ll be mad?”

“No Dieter, I don’t think she’ll be mad. Poppy’s totally going to understand, she loves you and will support whatever you do.”

Diem had always been able to reassure him when he needed it most, especially when it came to you— the one good thing in his life he refused to mess up. 

“Please don’t mention anything, I want to be able to do it in person— I’ll probably just tell her tonight.”

“Oh, shoot— I was just going to text her right now, ‘Hey Poppy! I wanted to tell you before Dieter did…’” Diem’s voice dripping in sarcasm, acting like she’s typing out a message on her phone. “Of course I won’t tell her— My lips are sealed!” Pretending to lock her lips and tossing an invisible key over her shoulder, laughing at his annoyance with her. 

“I can’t with you.” He sighs, scrubbing his hands over his face.

Dieter paces around the kitchen, not really sure what to do with himself, ready far sooner than he anticipated— nerves buzzing with excitement knowing he would be seeing you in 30 minutes— to pick you up for your date.

First official date. 

You had both laughed at how backwards it felt. Your first kiss. Your first time together. Your first ‘I love you’.— all done before you had even managed to go on an actual date. 

Finding a Friday that worked with your busy schedule, but that also led into a weekend where you could spend it together uninterrupted— no plans, just together. 

Dieter wanted to, as he put it, wine and dine you. He made reservations for 7 at a somewhat fancy Italian restaurant, only telling you to get dressed up in your favorite dress and that he’d pick you up at 6:30. 

He can’t remember the last time he had put this much effort into a date, probably due to the fact he hadn’t really ever been on one in years. 

Sure, there were a handful of women and men on his arm at many times in his life, accompanying him to five star restaurants across the greater Los Angeles area, pictures of them stumbling into the streets plastered across the tabloids the next day. 

‘Dieter Bravo & Mystery Woman Dining at Hollywood Hot Spot: Is She the One to Tame this Bad Boy?’

‘Dieter Bravo Seen Dancing with New Beau at Packed Nightclub’

Many were a lame attempt at a PR stunt, to draw attention to his upcoming movies he’d be starring in— but most of them were also meant to keep his name in the positive spotlight, distract from the shit show of his life behind the scenes. 

There were a few that felt like a little more than weekend arm candy, only to find out he was the one catching feelings, while they were looking to catch a free ride to stardom. 

There was the model he met on the set of a cologne campaign, also a sweet bubbly aspiring actress. The whirlwind fling seemed to move at lightning speed, and against his better judgment and the concerns of his people, she moved in after only a few short months of them seeing each other. Their relationship had been one of his many attempts at getting sober, wanting to give his best to her, but things became increasingly tempestuous as Dieter pulled away from the wild parties and she went out with friends, only to come home as the sun was coming up— leaving Dieter bored and alone. When Dieter caught word of her affair with his closest friend and fellow actor, he kicked her out of his house and began to spiral back into his old ways. 

Then there was the time with ‘what’s his face’, Dieter vaguely recalls what he looked like— let alone what his name was, gallivanting around Europe taking in its beautiful countryside, experiencing the food and the touristy atmosphere. When time came for them to head home, Dieter needing to prepare for a new role, he found himself flying back alone— leaving ‘what’s his face’ in Mallorca to continue on his soul-searching journey, which included some business opportunities with someone by the name of Lucas Gutierrez. 

The last relationship, if you could even call it that, was a drugged out daze where he almost married the receptionist of a high end hotel, Dieter had been convinced her hospitality meant she was in love with him. A weeks stay turned into a hazy mess of pleading for her to have sex with him while he was high as a kite, and by the end of the week she was saving his life and he was even more sure she was his forever— until his publicist and crisis manager had to step in and tell him he was not of sound mind to make such life altering decisions. 

Dieter had written off relationships or anything that resembled some sort of courtship, especially while in treatment— wanting to get himself right before even thinking about getting involved with someone. 

And then a year later, you came out of left field and had him seeing what love could feel like.

A knock at the front door pulls him from his head, glancing over to where Diem is eating dinner with Wren and getting a shrug of ‘I’m not expecting anyone’, he goes to answer it. 

Opening the door, he wasn’t expecting to see you, stunned into silence as his eyes slowly roamed over your body— completely done up, no semblance of your innocent teacher-look in sight. 

You take his reserved demeanor, no real expression except for wide eyes and a slack jaw, as if there was something wrong with how you looked. 

“What is it? Is the dress too much?” You say looking downward, smoothing out the fabric of your silky black dress and matching heels. You had given yourself a once over in the mirror before heading over, thinking everything was in place and really feeling the look— but maybe you had missed something. 

“N-no— No! You look fine— I mean you look beautiful.” Dieter stammers over his words, the way your dress hugs every inch of you has his eyes nearly bugging out of his head. “Wow!”

“Thank you. You don’t look so bad yourself there, handsome.” Biting your bottom lip as you adjust the wonky lapel on his navy suit, giggling at how you both can’t seem to stop staring at each other. 

“You’re early!” The realization hit him, looking over the clock on the oven to see he still had another 25 minutes before he even needed to leave. 

“I know. But I’ve been ready for the last hour and I was getting bored sitting on my couch waiting— plus there’s only so many songs on one side of a record and I got tired of getting up to flip it. So, I figured I’d walk here, kill some time.”

“Poppy, it’s like a five minute walk from your house.” He laughs, but his chest swells at the thought of you being so excited for the evening. 

“Actually, it’s a good 8, maybe 10 minutes in these heels— which by the way, are made for sitting not walking, so the sooner I can sit the better.” You mention as you shift your body from side to side, trying to relieve the tension that’s already settling into the balls of your feet. 

“Let’s go then.”

He runs back to the counter to grab his phone and his keys, stopping to give Wren a kiss on her head and a good night to both her and Diem. 

“You kids behave yourselves!” Diem quips with a smirk. 

“Uncle Dieter and Poppy aren’t kids mama! You adults behave!! Are they going to get in trouble?!” Wren confused, trying to wrap her head around the whole thought of her uncle and Poppy not behaving. 

Thankfully it’s a short walk, his hand securely on the small of your back as he guides you from the front door to his car, mindful of your slow calculated steps. 

A machine-like beep echoes out into the night as he unlocks the door, you start to bend down slightly to reach for the door handle, but Dieter grabs your wrist, carefully pulling you to him— your chest colliding with his. 

“You look beautiful, Poppy.” He breathes against your mouth, his nose gently nudging at yours before his lips seal over your awaiting lips. 

You can’t help the small whine that escapes your throat the moment his tongue slowly invades your mouth, eliciting a lustful moan of his own as he deepens the kiss. 

With his hands firmly grabbing onto the globes of your ass, pulling your lower half as close to him as possible, he shuffles your bodies around before pressing your back into the side of his car, the cold metal hitting your bare back sends a shiver down your spine, his feet tapping against yours signaling you to widen your stance as much as your dress will allow.

The way his lips continue to move over yours paired with the slight grind of his hips, a prominent bulge rutting up against the ache that has begun to settle between your legs, your appetite grows for something a little stronger and involving less clothes— is it too late to cancel reservations?

Goosebumps scatter across your skin as the sensation of his fingers gliding over your thigh, breaching the slit in your dress and settling at your unclothed and heated core— no panties were a risky move with how high the slit of your dress went, but the choice was paying off earlier than you had expected. 

Your fingers digging into the back of his arms to help  keep you upright, fearing your legs might give out at any moment. 

“Can you be quiet for me?” He asks against your swollen lips— grateful you opted for a gloss over a stain of color, knowing this might have been on the menu for the evening. 

You can only manage a nod as a jolt of pleasure hits you the minute his fingers push into your dripping pussy. 

Dieter covers your mouth with his other hand, quieting the tiny sounds that you can’t help making with how his fingers move so intently against your velvety walls, tripping the tiny live wires that have you electrified and pulsing around his digits. 

“Fuck Poppy, I can feel you’re already there. What’s got you so worked up already?” Dieter’s words muffled against your warm ear, his husky voice aiding in the chase for your release. 

He moves his hand from your mouth, your lips parting as you take a few quick breaths, your mind actively trying to string together a few coherent words. 

“Y-you.” Your response is airy, as you start to feel the building pressure of your climax. 

“Me?” He asks, removing himself from where he had settled against your neck, giving you a mocking puzzled look, playing stupid—he wants to hear you say it. 

“Yes— ah! You! Y-you look s-so— oh fuck! So fucking pretty! Oh god, Dieter— don’t stop please!” 

His hand moves to rest behind your neck, holding your head up so he can watch the way your face looks the second he sends you into a euphoric state. 

It’s a subtle swipe of his thumb over your throbbing clit, that has you catapulting into a blinding nirvana. 

Dieter presses his lips in a leisurely haphazard manner to your fiery skin as you come down from your peak, slowly removing his fingers from your spent cunt. 

You manage to catch his hand the moment it leaves the underside of your dress, locking your eyes with his as you bring the two fingers, now glistening under the moonlight, that worked earnestly to satisfy you up to your watery mouth. You wrap your lips around them, tasting your tangy sweet arousal, releasing his hand and wiping the corners of your mouth— Dieter practically coming in his suit pants at the sight

“Fuck, Poppy! You teach kids with that mouth of yours?” Eyebrows raised in question as he jokes at the lewd, yet arousing, gesture. 

“I knew you’d be a dessert before dinner kinda guy—” You reply, pressing a kiss to his cheek then whispering into his ear, “Hmm, plus, that’s not the only thing it can do.” 

You lightly push him off of you, giving him a sultry smile and a wink, adjusting your dress before opening the door to the car and getting in. 

“Fuck me!” He breathes out into the crisp evening air. 

*

The restaurant was the perfect backdrop for the evening— an outside table tucked in the corner of their patio with dim overhead lighting, candles glowing between table settings, a heavy card-stock menu listing their elaborate dishes and expensive wines. 

You had told Dieter on the ride over that you would have been more than fine with the local pizzeria or even stayed in and cooked together— he said the latter would be added on to the list of options for next time. 

Dieter had opted to sit next to you as opposed to sitting across the table— you didn’t argue, agreeing that it felt more intimate having him closer. It also allowed Dieter to rest his hand on your exposed thigh the entire evening, running his fingers along the seam where your leg crossed over the other— at times your hand resting over his, lighting caressing the top of his or changing it up and interlocking your fingers together.

The conversation flowed nicely once you were both satisfied with the order for the evening, sharing of childhood stories and funny life moments kept you both engaged and connected throughout the night. 

“What made you want to be a teacher?” Dieter asks, munching on a crunchy piece of garlic bread, his hand still resting on your leg while his thumb caresses over your knee. 

You finish your bite, wiping the pasta sauce from your mouth. 

“Actually, my mom is a teacher— she was my sixth grade teacher too. When I was in college trying to figure out my path, I remembered the joy she got out of being with her students and how much she had helped kids in my class. I knew it was something I wanted to do too. I guess we’re kind of alike in a way, following our parent’s footsteps.” Giving his hand a brief squeeze at the realization, your eyes beaming as you look at him. 

He smiles at the coincidence, he likes listening to you share these parts of your life with him. 

“What did you want to be as a kid?” He asks before taking a sip of his ice water. 

“Oh no!” Laughing softly at his question. “You’re going to laugh at me!”

“Well, now I need to know!” Trying to picture what a younger version of you would have dreamed of being in your adult life. 

“I don’t want to hear a single thing when I tell you, you understand me Bravo!” Jokingly point a finger at him as you prepare to reveal your childhood dream. 

He draws an X over his chest as a promise, encouraging you to continue. 

“I wanted to be an actress.” You reveal in a low hushed tone. 

“I’m sorry, what was that?” He’s fighting back his laugh, tilting an ear in your direction as if he didn’t hear what you said. 

“I wanted to be an actress!” Your face scrunches up with embarrassment as you repeat yourself. 

“Would have never guessed!” It’s the smallest laugh that escapes, shaking his head in amusement. “What made you change your mind?”

“Fifth grade— I was the female lead in our class play, it was a musical. I was sure this was going to be the thing that proved how much I wanted to act, convince my mom to put me in acting classes— I secretly hoped that maybe I could make it big, then move to be with my Dad and I don’t know, prove to that I could be something to him.”

You take a sip of your white wine. When ordering earlier, you had told Dieter you would be fine with just water since he wasn’t drinking, but he had insisted it was fine— and you had to admit it paired well with your dish. 

“I practiced nonstop, to the point I think mother was counting down the days until opening night so she didn’t have to hear me belting out my solo song in my room. Opening night came, and my part was about half through the play— I was so excited. Once it was my scene, I walked out on stage, saw all the faces staring back at me and I just froze. I couldn’t even say my lines, let alone sing.”

“What did you do?” 

“I ran out of there so fast. Begged my mom to switch schools so I wouldn’t have to face my class again. My dreams of becoming a big star faded instantly and I realized also that wasn’t going to fix anything with my Dad. Could you imagine though? Me, an actress— that would be a fucking sight.”

You both laugh uncontrollably at the thought of you being a Hollywood star  and how different your life had become, agreeing that you ended up where you were meant to be. 

“When do I get to meet her?”

“My mom?”

“Yeah, I feel like I should meet the mother of my girlfriend— hopefully sooner than later.”

Girlfriend. 

You both hadn’t really discussed labels, and you were perfectly fine with letting things happen organically being this was all still new for you both. But also acknowledging this was something more than just casually dating someone you didn’t know.

“Well, she’ll fly in next Thursday and will be at the gallery for my exhibit on Friday, so you can meet her then.” You’re giddy at the thought of your Mom meeting Dieter, having spent so many hours on the phone with her talking about him. 

His face morphs into a look of panic at the mention of your gallery showing, deciding that now would be the perfect time to tell you the thing that’s been weighing on him the last few days. 

“What?”

“Poppy, about your showing. I got a call the other morning— they bumped up pre-production and I’ll be leaving sooner than originally planned.”

“When do you leave?”

“This Monday. I’ve been trying to figure things out, find some way to still be able to make it, but they aren’t really working with me— as of now, it’s looking like I’m going to miss it.” Now that it’s out in the open, he doesn’t feel any better now that you know, he knows how much this means to you and wants to be there for you. 

“Dieter— hey, it’s okay!” 

You can see the anguish looming over him, hating that he was nervous to tell you. 

“You’re not upset with me?”

“No! Why would I be upset? I mean, sure I’m a little bummed out, but this job is important to you.”

“But your art is just as important.”

“I appreciate you thinking that, but there will be others I’m sure. Maybe not at that gallery, but I’m sure I’ll find another place and I’ll convince them to let me show off my work there too.” 

“Thank you, for being understanding.”

“Of course, Dieter… You’ll just have to make it up to me in other ways I guess.” 

As the date progressed, you’re both completely satiated, barely able to take a single taste of the dessert you had ordered. 

Dieter shared more about his love for acting growing up, fun stories from movie sets and his favorite roles to date— you didn’t want him to stop sharing, the way his eyes lit up you could tell how passionate he was about his work, it made you fall for him even more. 

“Does it still make you happy?” You ask him, your elbow propped up on the table, hand under your chin, the answer seemed so obvious to you but you wanted to hear him say it. 

He laughs at your question, leaning against the chair back, taking a minute to collect his thoughts. 

“What’s so funny?”

“Driving Birdie to school one morning, she asked me the same question. Just funny I’m being asked again after being here for a few months now.” He explains, rolling the edge of his napkin between his fingers, knowing you’re going to want him to answer it truthfully. 

“Is your answer still the same?” 

“Well, Birdie said I need to listen to my heart.”

“And what does your heart say now?” You ask as you lean forward, pressing your palm over his chest, feeling the steady strum of his heart as he looks at you with the most loving gaze. 

Adjusting himself forward in his seat, angling his body closer to you, wrapping his large hand over yours and pressing them both close to his chest, the up turn of his lopsided grin slowly growing. 

“It says that I am happy. Happy to be alive and sober. Happy to be home— making up for lost time with Diem and Wren. Happy to have this opportunity to discover the joy I have for a simpler life. And more importantly, it says I am happy to have you.” 

Tears began to shimmer in your eyes, hearing him say how happy he was, was an indescribable feeling— he was so deserving of not only happiness, but love and you were so grateful he was feeling it. 

“I love you, Dieter.” Trying to sniffle back your tears, your hand cradles the back of his head, closing the gap between you as his lips settle against yours. 

He can taste the few tears that do manage to escape, their wet briney sweetness coating the ardent kiss. 

“I love you so much, Poppy.” 

*

The ride home was a comfortable silence, no real need for conversation, just being in the presence of each was enough for the drive back to your place. 

It was peaceful— your hand resting on his leg, your gaze focused on the way the houses and trees blurred together in passing. 

“What are you smiling about over there?” Catching the slight grin on your face as you look out the window, wanting to know what thoughts were the cause for it. 

You hum in response, drawing your bottom lip between your teeth as your mind replays a loop of the entire evening thus far. 

“I had fun tonight— thank you.” Your head still resting against the seat, watching the way Dieter’s hands grip around the steering wheel, the muscles of his neck taut and flexed as he checks the mirrors. 

Acutely aware of the dampness that’s been lingering between your legs all evening, watching him right now you can feel your arousal beginning to pool and slowly drip down your thighs— grateful for your dress acting as a barrier between you and the car’s leather seats. 

The car jerks slightly as Dieter pulls it into your driveway, shifting into park and killing the engine, turning his attention to you, mirroring your position. 

“I had a great time too. Pretty sure I earned myself a second date, maybe even a little kiss goodnight.” 

His enthusiasm and lack of humbleness about his odds have you reeling, but it's his signature wink that hits you like a freight train that has you moving before your brain can register what’s happening. 

“I think you earned yourself a little more than that.” Your words are honeyed and laced in a seductive sugariness. 

A dual clicking, triggers the release of your seat-buckles, the snap back of the retracting belts reverberates through the car. 

A soft sliding of fabric against an oiled leather seat merely tickles your ears, trying to shift your body upward, your knee finally finding purchase to hold steady. 

A myriad of soft sounds expelled from Dieter’s side of the car. The rigid unzipping of his pants. The shuffling and pulling of excessive fabrics. A string of mumbled fuckshitohgodpoppyplease tumble from Dieter’s mouth as he watches the way your hand works itself over his hard cock. 

He’s putty in your hands, breathing ragged and tight with each swipe of your thumb over the head of his shaft. Gathering every glassy drop of pre-cum to help your hand slide effortlessly, pausing at the base of his cock for a moment— your firm grip producing another string of sounds from Dieter, mostly heady opaque moans. 

“Pop-Poppy! fuckfuckfuck! I-hnnnngh!! I’m gonna come if you— shit! If you keep that up!” 

“That’s the point Babe, I want you to feel good. Show my boyfriend how much he means to me.”

You can feel the way he tenses in pleasure at you calling him your boyfriend, the way he throbs in your hand as you resume your movements. 

“I’m going to miss you so much Dieter. Miss your stupid handsome face while you’re out doing what you love most. Letting everyone see how amazing and perfect you are.“ Your soft voice fanning across his ear. 

“N-no Poppy— You- fuck! I love you, the most.” His jaw is tight as he grits out his words. 

“I love you Dieter. It’s okay, let go— for me.” 

And he does. 

Warm spurts of cum coat the top of your hand and his dark navy button down shirt—  a painting of white Rorschach blots of arousal. 

“I’m going to miss you too, Poppy.” He manages to say, his throat raspy and dry. 

You find yourself flush against your front door, purse dangling from your arm, intoxicated by the way Dieter is kissing you fervently. 

“Dieter, babe! My feet are killin’ me! I’ve got to get these shoes off asap!” Taking a moment to catch your breath and search for your keys. 

Sifting through the mess of your purse, you miss Dieter kneeling down, his hand cupping the back of your calf as he attempts to undo the strap of your heels with the other, it doesn’t take long for you to feel your shoe being removed, the pressure instantly dissipating. His hands begin to work at your other shoe when you find your ring of keys, relief again as he removes the shoe and gently places your bare foot on your tiled porch. 

“God, that feels so much better! Thank— ah! Dieter!” 

Your skin feels soft under his touch, dropping a few kisses up the length of your exposed leg, stopping when he gets to the peak of your dress's slit, looking up at you to see nothing but want swimming in your eyes. 

He presses his hands on your hips, shifting  the fabric of your dress just enough so the slit allows him access to your cunt. 

A few bold licks through your wet folds has your knees buckling, his grip on you tightening to keep you from slipping, you’re so keyed up already that you know this is going to be a quick completion. 

But Dieter takes his time with you, and it’s worth it the minute your orgasm hits— a mixture of tingling excitement and hot lips between your legs. 

Your head lulls back against the door, as you wait for the sensation to come back to your legs. 

Dieter standing to his full height, shifting your dress back to its proper position. 

“I’ll have you know, I’m a dessert anytime kinda guy.” Devilishly smirking,  his lips damp with your arousal as he presses them to yours. 

“Stay. I’m not ready for you to leave me yet. Stay the weekend with me, please.” 

You’re practically begging him, and he finds it incredibly hard to tell you no— but sees no reason why he should. 

“I’m yours, Poppy. Show me where the bedroom is.”

[inthesleepydunes]

ppcu fic recs submitted by the community ♥️

hi everyone! thank you so much for the love on my initial post! i had so much fun putting this list together! i’ll be making more rec posts so my asks/dm’s are always open if you have anything you’d like to submit ♥️

Three’s Company by @pennyserenade - submitted by @whatsnewalycat

what aly said: Listen. I think about ex-husband dieter bravo all of the fucking time. This work especially is just… ugh. Amazing. Miranda’s prose is out of this world. It’s inspired and unique and idk I love her writing style so much. Also, obviously, this pairing is 😮‍💨🔥

Destiny and Deliverance by @mysterious-moonstruck-musings - submitted by @bitchwitch1981

what zelly said: It is so well written and detailed. Mysty put so much effort into research for the story and it 100% paid off. I have become so emotionally attached to the characters that I don't think I will ever let them go.

Someone’s Wife in the Boat of Someone’s Husband by @netherfeildren - submitted by @peeta-is-useless and @futuraa-free

what peeta-is-useless said: “Someone’s wife in the boat with someone’s husband” is such a beautiful fic that literally feels like you’re reading a novel. It completely draws you in and connects you with the characters. Basically, you come for spice and stay for a gorgeous plot😭

what bella said: This is probably one of the first Joel fics I ever read when i joined the fandom, it’s everything you want it to be: it will make you cry, it will make your heart melt and it will make you wish this version of Joel Miller was real. Plus Vic is an incredible writer all around.

Someone to be thankful for by @joelsgreys - submitted by @peeta-is-useless

what they said: Someone to be thankful for” is really a cute little one shot for Thanksgiving that captures family trauma and throws in a side of finding love and healing. Again, gorgeous story by an amazing writer.

Good to Me by @tonysopranosrobe/swiftispunk13 on ao3 - submitted by @peeta-is-useless

what they said: “Good to me” is one I found quite a while ago and I thought that I wouldn’t be into the plot but then I started reading just because and swiftispunk trapped me into this alt universe, porn with feelings goodness. I’ve been so in love with many of their fics though.

Red Light by @kiwisbell on ao3 - submitted by @peeta-is-useless

what they said: Red Light” is not something I would normally read at all. I’m not usually here for the dark stuff… however this was so good and you really get into the head of someone who thinks he’s doing the right thing- also it’s really fucking hot.

Soft & Sweet + Sugar & Spice by @cavillscurls - submitted by @peeta-is-useless

Soft & Sweet” and “Sugar & Spice” are so lovely. I don’t even have that much to say- they really are the definition of what I look for when I want Jackson Joel🖤 fluff, spice, a little angst and it’s tied up in a little bow.

A Lover’s Pinch by @hier--soir - submitted by @peeta-is-useless

what they said: “A lover’s pinch” is one I can never stray far from. I always find myself coming back because it also reads like the most beautiful novel. Just the progression and spice to feelings ratio- aghhhh. Like the perfect fic.

Gravity by @insomniamamma - submitted by @fromthedeskoftheraven

what raven said: She's a lovely person, brilliant wordsmith, and master of writing Ezra and the Prospect universe, and I think everyone needs to read her work (and whatever you do, do not miss her Prickle'verse fics, because they are sublime) 💖

Dark Shades of Innocence Lost by @mermaidgirl30 - self submission

what jamie said: it’s just my favorite that I’ve written and would love to spread the love to others who might not have gotten the chance to read or see it ☺️

[psychedelic-ink]

We Fall Like Snow ║ Part VI

After the events that took place at the Cliff Beasts set, needless to say as his bodyguard (and friend) you became overprotective of Dieter. You have all your worries under control until you accidentally flip over a young fan by grabbing her wrist, causing the media to stir with speculations as to why. Luckily Dieter's family arrives in the nick of time, scooping you both from New York to their cozy cabin; however, winter wonderland can't last forever and you need to face the consequences of your actions sooner or later.

pairing: Dieter Bravo x bodyguard!ofc; Amina Addams, written in reader format

chapter summary: You and Dieter return home.

word count: 3.2k

chapter warnings: male masturbation, phone sex (not with amina)

a/n: here we go the first official newly written chapter dfvfdv thank you to all those who reread and to those who has been following the series for the first time, we only have two chapters left to the end!

**dividers by the amazing @saradika

Dieter strokes himself faster, harder. His eyes are glued to the scene playing out on his tiny phone screen, he tries not to think about anything else. Just focuses on Eduardo sucking on Isabel’s sweet puffy clit. She moans loudly, a luxury Dieter doesn’t currently have. He hates the way the wires of his earphones keep accidentally swaying in front of the phone. Through gritted teeth, he lets out a hiss. He swipes the head of his cock with his palm, slicking himself up with precome. 

“Finger her,” he says with a hushed tone. “Make her beg for it, Eduardo. Bite the inside of her thigh.” 

Isabel's red hair drapes over the pillow as she lets out a sharp cry, thrusting against Eduardo’s fingers. They’re both way too pretty. He’s still clueless as to how he managed to get them to sleep with him. A mess of a man. 

His balls tighten and his thoughts momentarily drift to you, to the masked ball. How it looked like you wanted to say more but he fucked the words right out of your throat instead. He remembers the way your cunt squeezed him tight, pulsing around his cock. Dieter shudders. Why the hell didn’t he bring one of his dildos? He desperately needs to fuck himself with something thick right about now. Something that would make him forget. And cry a little bit.

Isabel comes with a shudder, her thick thighs pressing against both sides of Eduardo’s face, his moan becomes louder as he continues to devour her, working her toward another orgasm. Dieter nears the edge himself. He starts thrusting into his fist, the slick sounds echoing within his room. He licks his lips, desperate to taste something—anything. He so desperately wants to please someone right now, to be someone’s good boy. 

“You going to come for us baby?”

Isabel’s soft voice draws him away from his thoughts, his eyes find her’s on the screen, his cock pulses heavily between his legs, “Yeah sweetheart. Want me to make a mess?” 

She nods eagerly, her lips parting as Eduardo parts away from her pretty pussy. He latches on to one of her nipples, sucking hard, grinding into the soft covers. Dieter’s gaze drops to Eduardo’s ass. He looks good like that. If he was there he would give him the prettiest teeth marks—

His chest heaves, cock throbbing heavily in his hand, he slows down the jerks of his hand. He loves teasing himself. Loves that warmth spreading throughout his stomach, loves the way precome just oozes out of the tip, going down his knuckles. The more he impedes his nearing orgasm, the more likely he’ll make a mess, just like Isabel asked. 

Vaguely Dieter can hear both his lovers moaning his name, kissing, stroking each other. He doesn’t focus on the screen. His eyes flutter closed. Your body appears within his closed eyelids, he thinks about how good your fingers would feel in his tight little asshole, how you would call him yours—

“Fuck—!” 

Thick ropes of come splatters over his chest, stomach, some of it even manages to land on his neck, heavily sliding down the thick column. He shudders and opens his eyes. He stares at the small image of himself. He’s still coming, still fucking his first. More and more and more. Thick come rolls down his knuckles, forming a decent puddle at the base of his cock. Both Eduardo and Isabel are staring with heavy-lidded eyes. 

He drags his hand away from his sensitive cock and palms the mess over his chest. Dieter gatherers himself on his fingers, slipping the wet digits into his mouth. He moans at the taste spreading across his tongue. 

He’s still not satisfied. He doesn’t think he’ll ever be again.

You feel like an asshole. 

You are an asshole. 

You were hoping to stay in your room until the car picked you and Dieter up and took you to the airport. But of course, Adaline had other plans for your last day together. A spa day. You don’t remember the last time you’ve been to anywhere so fancy alone. 

You didn’t enjoy leaving things with Dieter on such a sour note. And it was your fault it ended up so complicated. You knew one of you had to be the responsible one—which, evidently, meant you. You panicked when Dieter started talking about a relationship, no matter how hard it tried it wouldn’t have worked out. This was the right call. Sooner or later he would accept that. The headache from the press wasn’t worth it. 

You weren’t worth it. 

“Are you ready dear?” 

You jerk at the sound of Adaline’s cheery voice. Quickly you wrap yourself with a bathrobe and tighten the belt. The fabric feels like heaven on your skin. “Coming,” you call out, opening the door. 

Adaline leads the way down a corridor adorned with soothing artwork and dimmed lights, creating an ambiance of tranquility. The air is filled with a delicate fragrance, a blend of lavender and eucalyptus that immediately relaxes your tense shoulders. The plush carpet beneath your feet absorbs your steps, muffling the sounds of the outside world.

As you pass by intricately designed wooden doors, you catch glimpses of serene rooms with plush massage tables. Soft music plays in the background. 

Adaline smiles at you, “It’s a shame you two are leaving early.” 

The sincerity in her voice tugs at your heartstrings. 

“I do too but you have a famous son who has his movie premiere soon,” you answer with mirth. “He can’t miss it.” Was that harsh? Maybe it was harsh? 

“Well, regardless I’m happy we’re able to do this just you and I—without the boys,” her laughter bounces off the walls, her joy infectious as your lips curl upwards. “They’re always so chaotic.” 

“I would say.” Just as you’re about to enter the room designated for you, she delicately takes hold of your shoulder. Worry knots in your stomach and you quickly turn, thinking of the worst, however, she’s still smiling. Looking a bit teary.

“I do hope we see more of you. I can see the effect you have on him. I’ve never seen him lit up as much before since he was a little boy.” 

You don’t know what to say—what can you say? You end up nodding with a smile that you hope comes across as kind. She squeezes your shoulder twice before letting go, “See you in a bit.” 

Adaline chooses a room adjacent to yours, and you both settle in for a well-deserved escape from reality.

The massage rooms are the embodiment of comfort, each one softly lit with scented candles. The air carries a hint of essential oils, and as you enter your designated room, a wave of relaxation washes over you. The massage table beckons, adorned with crisp, clean linens. 

The masseuses enter, quietly getting to work. You feel a bit awkward as you peel off your robe; this pampering thing is not exactly your usual scene. The room is calm, though, and the lighting is soft enough to make you forget about the nerves.

They give you a nod, a silent assurance, and you lie down on the massage table. They cover your hips with a cozy blanket. The whole room smells like a mix of fancy oils.

Their hands start working, and at first, it's a bit odd. You're not used to people kneading your muscles like dough. But slowly, the tension in your shoulders starts to give way. The knots are stubborn, but they seem to know what they're doing.

The masseuses focus on your upper back, their thumbs pressing along both sides of your spine with just the right amount of pressure. It's a peculiar sensation—fingers dancing over muscles that have been tense for longer than you'd care to admit. But as they work their way down, it's like they're unraveling the stress, one knot at a time.

There's a moment when their skilled hands find a particularly tight spot, and a small involuntary moan escapes your lips. It surprises you, but it also feels strangely liberating. You let out another quiet sigh as their thumbs continue to trace the contours of your back, coaxing the tension away.

You find yourself sinking deeper into the massage table. And your thoughts. 

Of course, you’re thinking about him. How could you not? You wonder about what he might be doing this very second. Is he in his room? On the phone? Packing? 

Probably not the latter—if you’re being completely honest. 

As the masseuse's fingers dig into your flesh, you imagine how it would be like if it was Dieter instead. His hands stroking your sweat-soaked body after he worked his cock into you so thoroughly. Making you shudder against him god knows how many times. His hands would feel like heaven on you. He’d have a teasing lilt to his tone, his voice nothing but gravel—the sound would make you want to take him into your mouth. Licking him clean. 

Fuck. This is not the time nor the place for thoughts like this. You feel yourself tensing again, wetness gathering between your folds. You take a breath and close your eyes. You can’t think about that. Forget the fact that you’re getting a massage, you can’t think about it because it’s never going to happen again. 

Anxiety claws its way into your heart. You don’t have it in you to regret what had happened but you’re also not sure if it was worth the damage it caused. You don’t know what to do with yourself if you lose Dieter as a friend. 

Hopefully, he’ll be in a better mood when you return home.

Everything will be normal then. It has to be. 

You’re practically glowing when you enter the cabin with Adaline right behind you. Both of you are. You feel soft and gooey from being molded and exfoliated. Your body is humming, tingling, and the smell of the spa is still tickling your nose. All you want to do is sleep, but sadly you have packing to do. 

“Thank you for the amazing day Adaline,” you say, watching her as she heads to the kitchen where Claus is preparing sandwiches for you and Dieter. You told him he didn’t have to but he insisted. She gives him a tender kiss, the gesture waking something like longing deep in your gut. “I feel like a cat under a sunbeam.” 

“It was my pleasure dear—”

It seems like she’s about to say something else but Claus cuts in, “Before you leave I want to talk to you, sweetheart. Don’t take too long packing.” 

“Oh. . . okay.” 

He lets out an endearing chıckle, “Nothing bad. I promise.” 

“Alright then,” you say, lips cracking into a smile.  You head to your room, but at the last second, you decide to go to Dieter's room. The door is closed. He probably doesn’t want to see you, or anyone else for that matter. You press your lips together, knuckles hovering an inch away from the door as you try to decide on what to do.

You start tracing letters into the corner of your palm with the edge of your thumb. Faint music comes from the other side. That should mean he’s in a better mood right? God, you hate this. You hate not knowing how to act around him anymore. 

Taking a deep breath, you knock softly. 

"Come in." 

The door creaks open, revealing him in the midst of packing. He looks up, and his face is motionless. Frightening, considering it’s Dieter. 

“Hey,” you mumble, suddenly unsure of why you decided to come to his room. 

Dieter sets aside a pair of folded jeans, his eyes meeting yours. "Hey yourself," he replies.

“So…how’s packing?” 

How’s packing? What kind of question was that? What the hell is wrong with you? 

He almost looks pained. He fully turns. Broad chest facing yours. Your mouth goes dry and you’re suddenly very aware of the thoughts you had during your massage. 

“Look, Amina,” he says, slowly and exasperated. “We don’t need to talk about anything. You made your intentions completely clear. You don’t need to come and check in on me. I’m not that big of an idiot, I fucking know how to pack a suitcase.”

Normally you would make a joke about how he actually doesn’t know how to pack a suitcase but you bite your tongue. “I just wanted to make sure if we’re okay.”

“Describe okay?” 

“The…same as before.” 

“So friends?” 

“Yeah.” 

He sighs and you don’t like what that implies. Your stomach clenches, all the knots the masseuses worked so hard to melt forming again. 

“Sure,” he answers blandly. “We’re friends. I just need some time.”

“Time for what?” You hate how high and patchy you sound but you can’t help it. You need things to return to normal. And you need them to return to normal now. You can’t take it. Every time you look at him a part of you breaks. 

Dieter starts towards you until he’s an inch away. You feel his warm breath on your skin. Your chest heaves. He’s close. Close enough to kiss. 

However, when you lift your gaze and meet his, you know whatever is about to come out of his mouth won’t be tender. 

It’ll be cruel.

“Time to forget that you’re a friend that I fucked,” he hisses through clenched teeth. “Things aren’t the same anymore. You told me you didn’t want me. You told me you’d rather have my dick than have to deal with me. So yeah, I’m gonna need a bit of fucking time if that’s okay with you.” 

Yeah, you deserve that. Even though that’s not something that you said. On the contrary, you care too much. But him being angry is probably the better outcome with everything that is going on. 

“Yeah okay,” you take a swift breath. “For what it’s worth it wasn’t about not wanting to deal with you. I— I don’t want you to think I don’t care about you. I do.” 

He scoffs, “Just not enough to want to be with me.” 

“You know it’s a complicated situation. Don’t pretend that it isn’t. I work for you. You’re my client.” 

Dieter doesn’t reply so you take that as your cue to leave. You’re hoping what you said registers in his head. This isn’t about not wanting him, because you do, it’s about the press, his reputation—your reputation. It’s too complicated.

You close the door behind you and immediately you regret it. Some part of you wants to go back, rip the door from its hinges, and fall to your knees. You want to cry until you’re dried out, beg him for a hug, for a touch. . . but you know that’s not in the cards for you two. Dieter isn’t the type to think things through. Sadly, that’s your job, literally. 

With a deep sigh that makes your chest ache, you head to your room to pack.  

It’s snowing again. The air crisp and rejuvenating. You grip the wooden railing, watching as the soft flakes hover down from the sky. The horizon is buried in white. A sight that makes your heart flutter and heart grow three sizes. It’s a shame you’re leaving in about an hour. You’ve gotten used to the homeyness. 

Claus stands next to you, gloved hands curling around the fencing. He’s staring at the horizon as well. 

“I bet you’re wondering why I wanted to talk to you.” 

When you turn to face him, you see the older man smiling. His profile is the same as Dieter. So much so that you don’t need to imagine how the actor would look like in his old age. “A bit, yeah,” you answer softly. Not wanting to seem rude. “I’m just hoping you’re not about to tell me I’m forbidden to ever step foot into your house again.” 

He snorts, “Of course not. How could I say that to the person who makes my son so happy.” 

Oh god. 

You’ve seen enough movies to know where this conversation is going. 

Your heart already begins to crumble. 

They don’t know how hurt their son is because of you. 

“I wanted to thank you,” he continues. “I know things might not be squeaky clean because of. . . everything in both your careers but love finds a way. I’m sure you noticed but he cares about things more than he lets on. He thinks no one wants him. But they do—don’t they?” 

You were a fool to think that his parent had no clue about what was going on. They know. Claus knows. His lips curl a little bit higher as he turns to you, fixing his gaze, he shoots you a knowing look. The silence grows and you realize he’s expecting—no demanding, an answer. 

“They do,” you answer, mouth going dry. “I do.” 

“Good. Now—” You’re taken aback when he suddenly throws his arm over your shoulder, pulling you close. “I’m going to let you on a little secret our surname isn’t actually Bravo.” 

You choke, “Excuse me?” 

He’s very pleased by himself as he pulls back, a huge grin plastered across his face. Claus winks at you as he mouths, “It’s Lobpreis, I changed it to Bravo before Dieter was born. I wanted it to be something catchy, something memorable.” 

“Does—Does he know?” 

“Wouldn’t be much of a secret if he did,” he guides you inside. “Now let’s send you guys off. I can feel my adorable son glaring holes into my head.” 

You notice him when the heat of the inside engulfs you. Dieter is at the door, brows pinched together, his dark eyes gleaming with both curiosity and annoyance. Before you acknowledge him, you turn back to Claus. “Why did you tell me?” 

Claus chuckles, giving you a playful nudge. "Why not? I figured it's time you knew a little bit more about the family you're getting involved with. Plus, it's always fun to keep things interesting."

You don’t get a chance to ask him how this makes things interesting, or why he assumes you’d be getting involved with the family—you’re too busy trying to conceal the fact that your body is burning from being called out so thoroughly. You clear your throat and with a curt nod, you take your place next to Dieter. You see the car waiting for you outside. You also notice Everett chugging one of your suitcases into the trunk, Adaline is with him, chatting about god knows what. 

The three of you hurry down the steps, snow crunching under your boots, you hug Adaline first, then head towards Everett who is smiling big. “Don’t be a stranger now,” he says wrapping his arms around you. 

“I won’t,” you answer, voice muffled against his chest. 

“Call us when you get to the airport,” Adaline warns Dieter. “Don’t make me worry like last time.” 

“I won’t Mom.” 

You want to ask what happened last time but you don’t get the chance as Claus comes in for a hug. “Take good care of him,” he whispers. “Or else.” 

“Or else?” you chuckle, eyebrows raising. “You do know what I do for a living right?” 

“I have to say it. It’s in the dad rulebook.” 

You nod and laugh, trying very hard to ignore the knots in your stomach as the dreaded moment of getting in the car with Dieter approaches. The trunk is shut tight and before you can stall you’re being rushed into the vehicle. 

“Have a safe trip now,” Adaline says one more time. 

And just like that the cozy winter wonderland slowly becomes small, fading behind a curtain of falling snow. You turn to look at Dieter but he’s looking out the window. 

Your hands curl into fists on your lap. The small Kit Kat bar feeling heavy in your pocket. You were hoping to give it to him, to try and smooth things over—to prove that you still care. 

But by his tense shoulders and the way he has his face pressed against the icy cold window, you know fixing things won’t be as easy as throwing a Kit Kat bar at shards of glass. 

Only time can heal those types of wounds. 

[nerdieforpedro]

Weekend Update 05/12/2024

I’m back! Two weeks in a row!

Very good Nerdie. We appreciate this. We’ve been keeping tabs and you’ve been busy this week.

I did dabble in a few things this week.

A new discord server started by myself and my friend fhatbhabie for Latinx/Black/POC Pedro stans. It’s one of those things where I shouldn't have been as surprised by the overwhelming support for it as I was. It’s actually been pretty awesome and I’ve had very thoughtful DMs. The name of the server is Unhinged Clubhouse.

I wrote my first mostly smut fic in a while with Dave York. Trule wasn’t expecting him of all Pedro characters but, the smut fairy does what she wants, when she wants and I just gotta roll with it. It was another entry for Jett’s Flora & Fauna Challenge. 

Going through my inbox - mostly caught up but still a few outstanding replied to be made. Sorry about that.

Lastly, working on WIPs and deciding in addition to working more on Weddings 101 with Dieter, which other series I’ve been working on did I want to pop out there? Frankie and Ezra’s series are finished and I think I might wrap up the on Din series in the next part or two. The other Din series I have to workshop a bit. I have ideas of who I want to pop up next from Star Wars, I just need to work it in. 

Also Weddings Dieter: Sesame Street, Reading Rainbow and cheese? How do we feel about this? I also could use some help in deciding between the following for my next series: Marcus Pike vs. hot dogs + therapy, me finally writing nice things for Javi P, Dieter + brick house + you and a baby, and Pero Tovar + Dragon for revenge? 

Lastly, does anyone have some prompts for nipples? It sounds weird, but consider, this is me. Also with @mysterious-moonstruck-musings influence, I have a weird bullet point list and made a horrible drawing. I just need to write something so it will leave my mind. I hope. 

Side note: Nerdie now has reblogs queued up to July 21st. The queue shall know no rest! 😎

Nerdie, like are you sure there’s no recreational use of anything? Like really sure?

Nah, these ideas are all from a sober mind. And I shudder to think what I would be like if I did, so I don’t partake. Mainly because I’m a scaredy cat and also my alcohol tolerance is low. Plus I like mixed drinks. 🤭

Now it’s time for everyone’s favorite part:

Fic recommendations! I read a lot this week!

1. Worth A Thousand Words by @intoanotherworld23 (Joel Miller x f reader)

2. Chapter 1 - Howdy Neighbor! by @inept-the-magnificent (Frankie Morales x Plus sized OFC)

3. A Rugged Kindness by @pedropascalsx (Pero Tovar x F reader)

4. Just the Lilac by @djarinmuse (Dieter Bravo x F reader/OC)

5. Torment Part 2 - Terror by @djarinmuse (Din Djarin x Fem OFC)

6. Torment Part 3 - Horror by @djarinmuse (Din Djarin x Fem OFC)

7. Torment Part 4 - Wounded by @djarinmuse (Din Djarin x Fem OFC)

8. Torment Part 5 - Victims by @djarinmuse (Din Djarin x Fem OFC)

9. Torment Part 6 - Trauma by @djarinmuse (Din Djarin x Fem OFC)

10. Torment Part 7 - Healing by @djarinmuse (Din Djarin x Fem OFC)

11. Fall Into You by @megamindsecretlair (Kevin Atwater x black fem/plus size reader)

12. For lifetimes of missing each other - chapter 1: Meat Cute by @tinytinymenace (Demon Pero Tovar x OFC)

13. For lifetimes of missing each other - chapter 2: One Bed by @tinytinymenace (Demon Pero Tovar x OFC)

14. For lifetimes of missing each other - chapter 3: Happily Ever After by @tinytinymenace (Demon Pero Tovar x OFC)

15. So Much Goddamn Talkin’ by @stargirlfics (Joel Miller x Black fem reader)

16. To the Flame chapter fourteen by @pedroshotwifey (Dark Javier Peña x fem reader) DDDE

17. Scattered Promises chapter 1 by @soft-persephone (Din Djarin x AFAB OFC)

18. Waffles and Cigarettes by @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin (Javier Peña x fem reader)

This week I hope to have a new series up, maybe chapter six of Weddings 101 and my entry for the Dieter Bravo Brainrot Serve club challenge (it’s slightly over the word count - I’m going to see if it will still make sense on another edit). I dunno if all of those will happen, but at least one of them should. 

Stay safe and hydrated everyone!

Love Nerdie! 🥰 💜💜💜

[trashlie]

ILY FP 233

God I CANNOT believe we are 233 episodes in already. It feels like we were JUST at 151 watching Nol walk away from everything and everyone and here we are? 70-some episodes later? SOOOOO close to the fabled time skip? NUTS!!!! Even though at the time I’d always hoped Nol would make his return at the Christmas party, that we wouldn’t go into the time skip without resolution, I didn’t image how any of this would have played out, or what would have come of it. 

I’ve probably said it before, but I’m just.... so amazed at what we’ve gotten out of Nol since the Christmas party arc began. He’s such a difficult character for me to predict and he’s so swaddled in all of the ramifications of his experience, his trauma wraps itself around his neck like some kind of boa constrictor, so frankly, everything that’s been happening the last couple (few?!) months is INSANE to me! 

Let’s dig in! 

Honestly this conversation between Nana and Nol is much needed. Don’t get me wrong - Nol very well knows and understands the ramifications of not only developing, but acting on these feelings. It’s not that he is acting on them that is the problem as much as the fact that Shinae is unaware, the fact that he needs to have a talk with Dieter. It’s such a mess no matter how you look at it with no real easy way out, and that’s without even considering the circumstances right now. Acting on these feelings when he’s about to disappear from her life again (serving time). Did he even intend to talk to her about it? Did he even intend to try suss out her feelings, if it’s reciprocal or not? 

On the one hand he isn’t entirely wrong - there ISN’T a lot he can do at this stage. Like, yeah he can confess his feelings to Shinae, spell it out for her why Dieter is so hurt why he’s acting like that, but tit would unfairly influence her own feelings that she’s yet to have time to process. It would put her in an uncomfortable position she’s not ready to face. He could have tried to talk to Dieter before he found out that he saw it all, but what would that do in the moment? Like Shinae, Dieter needs his own time to process, to try to grapple with and sort out his feelings. He’s bound to be much more volatile if pushed right now. 

That said, I find it interesting that Nol’s eyes were closed when he said he doesn’t know where his phone is and that it’s not easy when he’s stuck in the hospital - which isn’t entirely a lie, but I wonder if it’s more that he knows he’s avoiding the inevitable, the painful and the awkward? That he’s let opportunities slip through his fingers rather than face them? idk. 

I love Nana’s tough love, though. She’s not unnecessarily harsh on Nol, even if the comparison to Rand felt like a low blow, because we know that seems to be a motivator for him. He DOESN’T want to be anything like his father and he certainly doesn’t want to treat Shinae like Rand did Nessa. 

When I first read this episode, initially I was really wary of that frame with Nol’s eyes hidden from us when he says “I would never” because man all Nol DOES is push people away. All he does is decide that he doesn’t deserve what he wants and then deny them any say in their relationship, and it feels so very much like that’s the thought in his mind. That he would never so he’ll never act on it again so he’ll shove it deep down inside so he’ll learn to be platonic. 

But listen Nol, is that even possible? He had to kick her out of his room because he could not be alone with her - because he knew she isn’t drawing boundaries and every time he toes the line she lets him because he knows he loses composure he stops thinking that she’d just look at him like *that* and he’d crumble in front of her. The problem is, he’s already started this conversation. He can’t go back on it. At some point, Shinae is going to figure out what he meant by what he didn’t say - why Dieter would feel hurt, what that moment meant for them, just like he told her to. And then what? Is he gonna play the “I have a girlfriend” card? She knows it means nothing! Is he gonna play the “Dieter likes you” card? But doesn’t Shinae get say in her feelings? 

He still needs a conversation with Dieter, of course. Nol is so unpredictable to me, but I feel like there’s no way he could move forward knowing his feelings without talking to Dieter at some point. I have no doubt Nol feels like he owes him an apology and I have no doubt that Dieter doesn’t actually think Nol betrayed him or anything. But Dieter was the one picking up the pieces of Shinae when Nol made a mess of her. He was the one who found her crying in the rain where Nol left her. He was the one trying to talk her through it - even said out loud that she loves him, knowing he sensed it was a different kind of love than how he loves Nol. He’s the one who knows how hard she’s been trying to reach Nol, how much she is afraid to lose him CANNOT lose him, how much it tore her up. 

I really want to see Nol and Dieter have that conversation. I don’t think Dieter is the type of person who would feel like he has “dibs” on Shinae because he respects her as a person and, y’know, isn’t territorial of her like she’s some kind of possession. But what he CAN lay into Nol about is the way he’s treating her. Nana is right, too - you can’t just push her away and hope all of this will go away. And Nol moreso knows better because he knows about Alyssa now, he knows about Shinae’s trauma, about being cast aside by someone you care about. Even the way she responded to him when he first touched her scar, first brought it up; Shinae has not healed completely from that wound, even if it’s a scar. 

To do what he’s done this night - to return to her and be so honest, to share those moments together when he thought everyone was asleep and then push her away, close her out, box her out again - would be devastating and hugely unfair to her. If his plan is to really leave forever and never come back then whatever, but we know better. 

I will say, though. I really enjoy seeing Nol be really pathetic about this. I am taking GREAT pleasure out of it, sorry not sorry. Especially because Shinae has already suffered tremendously over his ghosting, over the realization that someone who is so precious to her could just throw her away like that. I want this man to AGONIZE. I know he’s trying to tell himself to walk away that he can’t do this to Dieter that Shinae deserves better but I always want him to know he CAN’T that he’s in too deep that he can’t walk away from someone who care about him, someone who worries about him, someone who grants him those moments of serenity and brings him calm in an otherwise tumultuous life. 

I think that’s the thing that’s so wonderful about seeing him this miserable, too - we are so very often locked out of Nol’s mind, it’s often so difficult to understand what he’s thinking about, what’s going on in there, but we can at least tell how torn up he is. How there’s a miserable part of him that doesn’t want Shinae to figure it out, how much he loathes that he resembles his father in this way. It’s not like he set out to fall for Shinae, it just happened, it’s something that has been blooming all along in the background, the seeds were planted and tended to in all of their moments together - all of those times she disarmed him and he let her in, gave her a little taste of who he really is. Falling for her was the last thing he wanted. And yet.

And yet. 

Even though Nol is denying it at every opportunity, it’s still an indirect admission. His concern when asking Nana if she told her - we know what he means. He tells her there’s nothing going on but also states he’s trying. His attempts to deny it are futile when he keeps betraying his lies with the truth lol. 

But look, I can’t help but love how sulky and miserable he is. He made this bed now he’s gotta lie in it. 

But really, Nana is much needed at this time, because Nol’s typical moves won’t make anything better. She knows him better than that, and knows that both Shinae and Dieter deserve better. He’s not allowed to play with her feelings and then run away; he owes her a conversation, the truth, an apology. Ignoring it won’t solve anything, and pushing her away won’t fix anything, Nana gets it. Nana speaks on behalf of us. 

But Nana is also right. Shinae and Dieter aren’t the only ones affected by what’s happening here.

What a fantastic segue to Alyssa lol 

Alyssa, my messy problematic fave ;~; Alyssa my misguided lost little lamb ;~; 

I know most people hate Alyssa but I am not most people and listen, I am BIG TIME worried and scared for her.

BIG. TIME. 

We’ve known the connection between Yui and Gun Kim is close and we even know that Gun has contacts with several media conglomerates but I don’t think we really knew just HOW close he was, holy shit!!!! I cannot even begin to describe the DREAD and fear that filled me to see him show up like this. Especially like this ;~; 

Seeing Alyssa hiding in the bathroom on the toilet gave me immediate worry but fortunately it doesn’t seem like anything had happened; she’s just taken refuge in the bathroom, her shirt was thrown up on by her boyfriend who seems to have sent her a cryptic message and hasn’t responded to her since. My guess is that maybe when Kousuke punched him and he fell, a message got sent...? Maybe while people were gathering his barely conscious bloodied body and moving him into Yujing’s car? Idk! The point is: she’s worried. 

The way she’s sat on the toilet resembles the way she hid herself in her blanket at home that day Shinae visited her, a day where she was also very worried that someone was upset with her. I’m not saying I don’t think Alyssa is genuinely worried about Nol, but she does get very anxious when she thinks people are mad at her, and she knows Nol has every right to be mad at her. What she said was cruel, even if she meant it in the moment, and Alyssa absolutely cannNOT lose Nol - she needs him, not just for her career, but probably also for her protection. He’s one of the only friends she has at this time, even if she doesn’t treat him that way. And I think knowing that Rand left the party gave her some kind of indication that something is afoot, even if she doesn’t know what. 

Let’s not forget that Alyssa witnessed him jumping off a balcony into the pool below. And now this weird message? Now all these messages he’s not responding to? Rand has left? What’s going on? 

And she doesn’t even time to worry about him because Gun Kim is at the bathroom door, ushering her along, they have another schedule to make. What time is it? Are we aligned with Nol’s time? Did they stay the night at that hotel? They’re still there, at the setting of the Christmas party, not at their dorm or anything like that. They still have last night’s costumes, off to their next schedule. How long has it been? Did she sleep at all?! 

Something that really stands out is the expression on Alyssa’s face when Gun is calling in, asking if she needs any help. Maybe that expression is just because she can hear her groupmates talking about her, perfectly willing to leave her behind, but with what we know about Gun.... you can’t blame me for thinking that she, too, knows a thing or two about that man and would prefer anything but. 

One of the girls says something about how she’s always doing weird shit back at the dorm. How weird are we talking? Are we talking curling up in a ball and hiding in her blanket when she feels like things are falling apart? Are we talking coping methods for trying to deal with the plaguing feeling of knowing she’s so disliked, that nothing she does can make up for it? Or are we talking.... even weirder? Is it connected to whoever Alyssa is always on the phone with? 

The more I think about her, the more I worry for Alyssa. Truly, fearfully worry. 

Alyssa’s group is called GL4SS and the panels of her getting ready are glass shards - really on the nose there. It harkens back to that moment Shinae visited her house, where she so quickly pulled herself together like she wasn’t really moping at all, back at her violin as if nothing was amiss, nothing to see. Shinae thought it was so weird but look at how practiced it is. In a matter of minutes she pulls herself together, puts her face on - her mask, her facade, her persona - and steps back out like a good girl. 

One of my friends pointed out how very much Alyssa donning her make up was so much like Nol doing Shinae’s make up at the formal. Nol was directly helping and protecting Shinae both in putting the make up on her and taking care of her throughout the evening, and he wasn’t the only one. When she was in danger, Nol, Kousuke, and Meg came together to search for her. 

But no one is doing Alyssa’s make up.

No one is there to protect her, to defend her. 

She’s alone when she comes out of the bathroom and finds Gun Kim waiting for her, her groupmates having already left to go to their next schedule alone. 

Thinking about it from that perspective makes it feel so much worse. There is no one to protect Alyssa, to keep her safe. It is just her and an actual shark, an actual literal monster, who is to take her - alone - to her next schedule. Everything about her body language has me SCREAMING - she looks so uncomfortable, trying to shrink in on herself, arms tightly at her sides, everything about her posture screaming uncomfortable. 

But it’s the things he SAYS. That weird “joke” that isn’t funny. That pointed dig about not wanting to give them another reason to dislike her. Danger alarms are going off, this man should NOT be anywhere in her vicinity, let alone be alone with her. 

Here’s something to consider about Alyssa. 

No matter what she does, her groupmates are never going to like her - no matter how skilled she is, no matter how hard she works, because they know how she got here. They know she’s got connections to the group’s sponsors! They know Yui handed her this. They probably trained for years, worked so hard to beat out other trainees, sacrificed so much for this and Alyssa just came prancing in. 

No matter what she does, what she contributes, it will always be invalidated by how she got here. 

And despite this, she seems to be the face of the group. She’s so popular that people are already calling her overrated. She’s already been doing CFs/endorsements. She has been granted things the other girls haven’t. Not only was she invited to the ultra exclusive Kim formal, but Yui pulled strings so that she (and only she) could attend. She’s chummy with Kousuke and Nol - and we know Sumin knows/assumes she’s dating him because she pointedly mentioned how Alyssa is always on the phone. 

Her groupmates are (rightfully) jealous and she has no friends in them. The one thing she’s wanted is to belong. To be a part of something. But even in something like this, where you would expect to belong, where you work 24/7 with your groupmates, live with them, spend all of your time with them, she still doesn’t belong because of how she got there. 

Fans will never be her friend and will only ever conditionally love her. 

Who does she have? Who can she turn to? 

Yeah she has Meg, but is she going to open up about her loneliness, about what she struggles with? What if Meg takes it as a slap to the face? Alyssa isn’t dumb and she isn’t blind - I think she must know that Meg feels some kind of inadequacy measured against Alyssa, the successful daughter, the famous daughter, the one who will be bringing home money while she tries to finally finish university for once. 

And Yui and Gun Kim know this. By circumstances alone Alyssa was already isolated, has no one in her corner, no friends outside of the group, no friend in her group. And what can she do to combat that? Who can she turn to? 

I wonder if those dating rumors are going to come up soon. If everything that transpired this night/day are to set us up for the coming time skip - will Nol and Alyssa still be together? If we’re setting up for the timeskip, I think we’re about to see a major shift. 

Remember when I said that dating Nol affords Alyssa some kind of protection? While she can’t publicly say she is dating, she can at least thwart some advances privately, those who know of her relationship - like the Kims. (Though, let’s be real, has that ever stopped them? Ugh.) I think that while yes Alyssa has hung on to her relationship with Nol because she wants to keep Yui’s favor.... I think Alyssa benefits in a way Nol is very unaware of right now, and that’s why she is so desperate to keep in with him. 

But if those dating rumors come up? If she has to publicly renounce their relationship, because she’s being forced to, because not doing so will ruin her career, because not doing so will find an awful punishment for her? Then what?

I think it sets up a couple things. Firstly, I think that could be the final blow for Nol. Much like he’s wiped his hands of Kousuke, perhaps he would do so of Alyssa, because who wants to continue to play pretend that they’re dating when she has to publicly renounce their relationship? He’s tried to help her, he tried to save her, and from his perspective, it never did anything, so why waste his energy on something futile? Just like he realized reaching Kousuke was futile, maybe he’ll feel the same of Alyssa, wipe his hands of her once and for all.

But if that comes to pass, then it means Alyssa is so truly alone, so isolated, caught completely in a trap that it’s too late to turn back from, and I don’t think she’s going to be given the opportunity to escape. I’m really worried that we’re about to see Alyssa realize how very trapped she is and that this is what’s going to carry us into the future.

;___________________;

I am so SO terrified for her. ;__________;  

[templetogavage]

Weekly Weighing (12/04 to 12/10)

As usual, here are seven gaining and encouraging things I enjoyed from my dash this week (plus one instance of self-promotion).

1. https://oac47.tumblr.com/post/702641168680435712/2022-dec-post-1-iii-sdonnell42-growing-guy

There's more pictures in the post itself, but here's a brief selection of a cute chub/bear who loves showing off on Instagram. I love when fat guys (even civilians) are this confident in how they look, and I appreciate @oac47 for sharing.

2. https://www.tumblr.com/fatmen-xxl/702606124678004736

@d0ughb0i is doing a good job of filling out these clothes. These shots are a perfect depiction of the fat man at rest. The lighting, too, adds to the effect.

3. https://www.tumblr.com/reluctantloser/702587125395259392

Midjourney's art is getting very good. Many thanks to @hugeredbear for submitting prompts that result in stuff like this. I'll probably continue to include these as Christmas approaches, just because I want to feature more santa posts. There are two more in the post linked above, but this was my favorite of the three.

4. https://www.tumblr.com/creator/templetogavage/703195291530280960

Shameless self-promotion! This is a recent audio I posted. Quite short, as these things go, but I like the combination of humiliation and admiration I struck here. It's about the idea of being big meaning that you take up a lot more space, dominating it at the expense of the people around you.

5. https://nycfann.tumblr.com/post/701925281312686080/fatboys-thanksgiving

Post-Thanksgiving belly play? Don't mind if I do. This video by @nycfann really hearkens back to the best of belly play videos of old- it keeps it short and sweet, showing off a couple angles and giving us just enough time to enjoy it. A good choice for a preview video- if you're interested in checking out his Patreon, let me know how it goes. I was a patron for a time in the past, when I had more disposable income, and I recall enjoying some of the roleplay videos there.

6. https://www.tumblr.com/blobinprogress/703108199482556416/ate-him-and-left-no-crumbs?source=share

The gainer world needs more comparison pics the like of which @blobinprogress posts. This is incredible- between the contrast in expression, the huge contrast in the body, and the way the streamer lighting highlights every inch of his belly, I can't imagine a better way to draw the eye. Excellent eye for what encouragers want to see (or at least what this one wants to see).

7. https://www.tumblr.com/ilikeithairy/702720570172817408

A picture of a bear. While this isn't perhaps what I'm most known for, I do admire a solid bear, even if he's a bit lacking in the body fat department. Gotta take some eye protein bars with your eye candy, you know?

8. https://www.tumblr.com/bigboycenter/702871680455950336

There was a time when I didn't quite appreciate the @thic-as-thieves boys. I tend not to like the first-thirty-pounds/bloated look too much. But lately they've really been chubbing up. This costume does wonders for his figure. He's definitely looking like my friendly neighborhood Spiderman.

And that's this week's Weekly Weighing! Thanks to @oac47, @fatmen-xxl, @reluctantloser, @nycfann, @blobinprogress, @ilikeithairy, and @bigboycenter for gracing my dash with these posts.

[javier-pena]

blush

Part 4 of Hubris

Pairing: Dieter Bravo x f!reader

Word Count: 4.2k

Rating: Explicit

Summary: You're finally ready to make the next move - but are you bold enough to tell Dieter what you want?

Warnings: masturbation (f) (mentioned) | oral (f receiving) (mentioned) | lots of overthinking | and so many feelings | fingering | a bit of dirty talk | some praise kink | breasts (no mention of size though) | p in v sex | brief hand job | hair pulling | and again, A LOT of feelings

Notes: It's finally here, the answer to the question who will give in first. As always, huge thanks to Dani @adricnchase for telling me she "really loved that part of Hubris" because I put a bit of character development into this and wasn't sure if it would work. Still, I feel a tiny bit nervous about posting this and I hope you guys enjoy it! Also apologies in advance if it takes me a while to reply to any feedback because I'm gonna be traveling for a week, but I will also be working on Part 5 ...

***

His house sits dark in front of you. A tall tree to the left of the front door sways softly in the warm evening breeze. You watch the living room windows, the only ones that are lit brightly, watch his shadow pass the drawn curtains every few minutes.

Dieter Bravo.

You clutch the steering wheel and try to breathe, but it doesn’t work, you still feel like you’re suffocating. No matter how slowly you draw breath, how long you hold it, how forcefully you release it, your hammering heart is three sizes too big to let any oxygen reach your lungs. Your body is painfully stiff against the driver’s seat of your car, while you wait for your nerves to calm down. They won’t.

You’re not asking for much. You’re just asking for your body to move, to get up, out of the car, walk up to Dieter’s front door, ring the doorbell, and say it. By now, the grooves and dents of the steering wheel must be imprinted on your palms, you’re probably doing permanent damage to the muscles in your neck and jaw, and your heart will explode if you take any longer. But you can’t move, you can’t, you can’t. You’re dizzy with longing, dizzy with fear.

It's no use pretending anymore – you want him, you want him so much, it’s all-consuming, you want him any way he wants to give himself to you. That thought alone makes your head spin with all the endless possibilities of how this could go wrong – that it could go right hasn’t entered your mind much. Still, Dieter is all you’ve been able to think about for the past week. And as long as you don’t let your mind wander off to him rejecting you, laughing at you because you entertained the possibility he’s not toying with you, you can wallow in the feeling of wanting him. You’d be embarrassed by how much you touched yourself during the last seven days to the memory of him eating you out if you weren’t well past the point of feeling shame when it comes to Dieter. Even now, with your body on high alert, with your brain drunk on adrenaline, you have to shift in your seat when you think about his tongue between your legs.

It's so unfair of him to expect you to make the next move. Especially after he treated you like this the last time, after he used you, but showed you so much affection afterwards. It was a glimpse of what you tell your heart not to expect anymore, and now you’re hooked, hooked on the way it made you feel, hooked on how much you want to give yourself to him only to get to experience this care again, this … No, it’s too early to use that word! You’re not even entirely sure if your attraction to him goes past the physical, you can’t let your mind race ahead and create feelings that aren’t there. Him not hating you must be enough for now.

And why should Dieter be different anyway? You’ve been wrong about men in the past; this might just be another lesson life is sending your way. But something is different this time, he’s different. It’s been a whole week now since you refused to tell him you don’t hate him, since he told you to make up your mind. And he gave you space all week, he didn’t press you for an answer. He stayed away from you, didn’t come to you at the end of the day while you were finishing up, like he had done in the past. Once or twice, you caught him staring at you, not with the fire you’d come to expect but with something different – his look was hopeful yet heartbroken. It was enough for you to almost make a rash decision.

Yes, you’re here now, at eight in the evening, outside his house, because you want him. You need him. It took you a week to be brave enough to admit that to yourself, a whole week of using your fingers as a poor substitute for what you could have. That need is not the only thing that finally brought you here this evening – it’s also hope, hope that there truly is a connection between the two of you. You felt it, even stronger than before while he was keeping his distance. Maybe it’s true what they say – absence does make the heart grow fonder. And the only thing keeping you tied to your car is the crippling fear it’s not true in his case. Maybe you took too much time – maybe you’re too late and he doesn’t want you anymore.

No … you’re also scared of what will happen if it is true, and he feels the same way about you. Because then you’re putting your heart on the line again, and then you might be rewarded with something you’ve been taught again and again not to expect.

When a car horn sounds somewhere behind you, it pulls you out of your spiraling thoughts and forces you to act. You let go of the steering wheel, your fingers stiff and painful, and finally get out of your car. Everything has to happen fast now because if you stop and think about what you’re about to do, you won’t go through with it. With brisk steps, you walk toward the front door, whispering the sentence you want to tell him under your breath, letting your tongue get used to the feeling of those words.

“I guess I don’t hate you either, just in case you want to have sex in future.”

Then it will be up to him to make the next move. And you don’t show your hand, you don’t admit how much you care for him.

You reach the front door and knock twice, rapidly, business-like. It doesn’t take long for him to answer, at least not long enough for you to change your mind. Not long enough for you to prepare yourself either.

He’s wearing wide pajama pants, dark red, and a wide, gray shirt. His hair, free from any products they used on set to keep his curls under control, sticks up in all directions, like he keeps running his hand through it. He’s holding tomorrow’s script pages, crumpled sheets of paper, and a tumbler of whiskey. His eyes behind his reading glasses grow wide when he realizes it’s you.

“I …,” you start and then all the strength you mustered leaves you. You can’t go through with it, you can’t act nonchalant like you thought you would.

“Yes?” he asks carefully.

His voice is deep from the alcohol, from practicing his lines for tomorrow, and it strikes you like a bolt of lightning. You’re completely alone with him, and this time there is no chance anyone can interrupt you.

“You …,” you try again, and a shudder runs through you, nerves, adrenaline, fear, embarrassment.

He opens the door wider. “Do you want to come in?”

Do you? Once you’re inside with the door closed behind you, it will be harder for you to leave if things should go south. But you accept and step past him into a hallway decorated with posters of some of the movies he’s done. You can’t help but smile at that.

“Is everything okay on set?” he asks while he points you to the living room.

“What?” you mumble, too overwhelmed to really listen.

His living room is not the grand hall you were expecting. Instead, it’s comfortable, lined with bookcases. At the center is a dark green couch covered in cushions that faces the tall windows. He’s leading you toward it, his hand hovering above the small of your back. Once you’re seated, he offers you a glass of water, which you decline.

He sits down next to you, but keeps his distance, hands folded on his lap. “Is there something wrong?” he tries again. “Is there anything you need?”

Everything is wrong. You’re hot and cold at the same time, your heart feels like it’s about to burst. And he’s wrong, too. He’s never acted like this, like having sex with you is the last thing on his mind right now, like he cares about your wellbeing. You don’t know how to respond to that, what to say to him that is not a snide remark.

All you know is that you want him so much it’s killing you, but you don’t know where to begin. You don’t know how to open up and trust him.

He moves away from you, gives you space, waits patiently for your answer. If you don’t say something soon, he’s going to kick you out, maybe chide you for wasting his time. This is the hardest thing you’ve ever had to do.

You lower your eyes to the ground, to the ochre rug beneath his coffee table and take a deep breath. “I don’t think I hate you either.”

Please let my voice be loud enough because I don’t think I can repeat it.

He’s quiet for the longest time. You feel your palms grow sweaty, you feel tears sting behind your eyes. You wish you could take it back, wish he hadn’t heard you after all. This is not how you expected this to go at all – you don’t have the upper hand, you’re the one opening up, and with every second that passes he makes you regret it.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, he speaks. “You don’t think?”

Is that impatience you hear in his voice? “No,” you say quickly. “I know I don’t.” The sigh you let out after sounds close to a sob. “Why is this so hard?” You should probably just stop talking because there is nothing you could say that wouldn’t make this worse.

“Well,” he says, his voice softer. He moves closer to you again, puts his hand down on the couch between you. “What do you want?”

You don’t know how to answer that. It has never occurred to you that this could be about what you want. You shrug.

“What do you need then?” he asks.

He’s not helping. You feel so utterly lost and vulnerable. All your strength goes towards holding back tears, goes towards stopping yourself from storming out. It doesn’t matter what you want and need, you’d be asking for too much anyway. Still, you look up at him, look at him properly for the first time since he opened the door for you, and find yourself face to face with his smirk.

“Well, I’m busy, actually,” he says, leaning back like a man who’s not busy at all. “If you want to have sex right now, I maybe have five minutes. Is that enough time for you to come?”

It’s the lifeline you’ve been waiting for. This is familiar ground for you. You know how to respond to this, know that things between you can still be the same if you follow his lead. The relief that washes over you almost brings tears to your eyes.

“Depends on how good you are,” you respond, not trying to hide the broad smile, the happiness you suddenly feel. A week ago, you’d have said it with malice in your voice, maybe even with hatred, in an attempt to hurt him and push him away, but you don’t feel any of those hard and cruel feelings right now. You just want to tease him.

The way his eyes sparkle tells you you’re on the right track. “Oh, a challenge,” he says, glee in his voice. “You’re making this very interesting.”

And then his hands hover over your pants, right over the button, while his eyes are on you, watching you carefully. You try not to overthink the look he gives you, searching your face for any discomfort, for any sign this isn’t what you want, because the care you find there makes you shake. This is the first time this thing between you isn’t a battle, and you don’t quite know what he expects of you.

His fingers flick open the button on your pants with ease, then pull down the zipper, his knuckles softly brushing against your underwear. Your breath catches in your throat when you see his gaze flicker down, when you watch his tongue dart out to wet his lips. This is all happening so fast, yet not fast enough. He makes you want to slow things down, yet shout at him to hurry up. You’re trapped in a delicious limbo, ensnared between lust and uncertainty.

“I hope for your sake this isn’t part of the five minutes,” you say when you can’t bear the silence any longer.

He lifts your hips with one hand and pulls down your pants with the other, quick and sure, gliding down to the floor in the process. You watch both the garment and your sandals tumble to the floor where they come to rest in an unorderly heap next to his thighs.

“Oh, you underestimate me.” He mumbles it against your naked thigh, imprinting the words on your skin, following the invisible mark with a brush of his thumb. Then his lips are there, his teeth, and he bites and kisses, making you squirm. His breath is so hot, his thumb against your clothed clit makes all the blood rush from your brain. You need to be able to think though, you need to analyze this sudden change in him, need to find an answer to the question why he is so soft and careful with you, why this intimacy makes you panic again.

Before you can overthink this, before you can change your mind and push him away, he yanks down your underwear and tosses it behind him. His gaze only lingers for a second before he pushes himself back onto the couch and pulls you on top of him. Your surprised squeal is followed by a throaty gasp as he pushes two fingers into you and you clench around them, immediately pulling him deeper. This is not what you expected at all, but it’s exactly what you need to get out of your head.

“I love how wet you always are,” he mumbles against your neck, picking up a steady rhythm that’s just fast enough to make you squirm.

You don’t know how to respond to that without giving too much away. Instead, you let him kiss up your neck, along your jawline, rolling your hips to get more of him inside of you. Then he leans back into the couch, his eyes bright and shiny as he watches you carefully move on top of him, not sure you can trust him fully yet.

“You’re doing so well,” he encourages you, his voice hoarse.

It loosens something inside of you, something you hadn’t even realized was holding you back. With a sure grip, you take his free hand and push it under your shirt. His fingers immediately close around your right breast and he squeezes just so to make a moan spill from your mouth, eager for more. He finds your hardened nipple through your bra and rolls it under his thumb, watching your face for any signs of encouragement or discomfort.

“More,” you whisper, trusting him enough to voice your desire.

He tears at your shirt, eager to pull it up, and you hear the fabric rip. The smile on your lips at his eagerness turns into a surprised O-shape when he pops your right breast out of your bra and latches onto it, sucking on your nipple, squeezing it, holding it in place, taking what he needs, yet giving back to you at the same time. Your eyes fall shut and you hear yourself moan, deep and trembling, while he does his best to coax more sounds from you with his fingers and his tongue. Despite yourself, you begin to roll your hips faster, panting from the strain of spreading your legs, of having his mouth on your nipple – it’s too much yet not enough at the same time.

“That’s it, let me hear you,” he mumbles, then pinches your nipple with his teeth.

It makes you gasp, and when he does it again you can’t resist the urge to look down at him. You’re met with flushed cheeks, eyes glazed over with lust, wild hair, a furrowed brow. His lips around your nipple are red, slightly swollen, shiny with his own saliva. A whimper escapes you when you think about kissing those lips, biting them, moving on to exploring his mouth. The urge becomes so great you want to pull him off you and find out what he tastes like; your hands are shaking, anticipating your next move.

He pulls back then, falls against the backrest of the couch. You’re expecting him to smirk at you, but instead he stares, in wonder, captivated by the sight in front of him. It makes you miss his cockiness because you can’t handle so much adoration directed your way – you don’t know how to respond to it, you can’t even tell what you did to deserve it.

“You’re so desperate,” he murmurs, his voice husky with desire. “You’d do anything to keep me inside of you, wouldn’t you?”

It’s only then that you realize how your cunt is fighting to keep his fingers inside of you, how it needs more. This isn’t enough, not with his gaze on you, looking like that, not when you already know what you could have if you’d only get over yourself and ask for it. And what better time to bring this up than right now, when you’re so close a few more strokes of his fingers would do the job but leave you unsatisfied? What better time to bring this up than now, when all you want is to finish this together with him, joined by the desire to give and take at the same time?

“Please.” Your voice doesn’t sound like your own and you clear your throat in an attempt to find it again. “I need you inside of me.”

You steel yourself for a teasing remark, for a comment about how you should be begging for his cock, but instead you watch how his mouth falls open and he stares at you, unable to come up with any reply at all.

This is your chance to get back at him for all the times he teased you. “Oh, you like hearing me say that?” You try to mirror his smirk, even though you know it’s a futile attempt, especially when he pushes his fingers deep, deep into you, pulling a grunt from a hidden place within your chest.

“Shut up,” he growls, and does it again, making you fall forward and grip the back of the couch. “Yes,” he adds, making pride surge through your body.

His free hand finds its way to the small of your back and he leans forward, making sure you don’t fall off him as you lean back, trying to accommodate his movements. There’s a box on the coffee table behind you, one you expected to hold cigarettes or maybe snacks. When he flips open the lid you find out it’s filled with condoms. Before you can ponder too much on what this means, his hand is on your back again, guiding you into a more secure position.

“Would you …?” he asks, holding the wrapper up.

He won’t even stop fingering you to roll a condom onto himself.

You take the wrapper from him, then signal for him to lift his hips. While he does, focused on keeping you in place, he hits something deep inside of you that makes you whine, makes you want to beg him for more, makes you shiver in anticipation. He doesn’t seem to notice though, and you forget about it as soon as you’ve pulled down his pants enough to free his cock. You knew what you were about to see, you’ve seen it before, held it, had it inside of you, but you’re still surprised by how thick and full it is, by the glistening tip, by how you can see it twitch – you’re still surprised by how much he wants you.

You can’t resist. Carefully, you take it in your hand, stroke it, relish the feeling of it in your palm, the feeling of how much power he’s giving you. You speed up, lost in the moment, captivated by the grunts he’s making, the desperate rolls of his hips as he pushes himself into your grip.

And then he hisses in warning.

“Looks like you’re the one who’s going to come in under five minutes,” you observe, well aware that neither of you has paid attention to the time at all.

“Please,” he says, swallowing around something stuck in his throat.

It’s enough.

It shatters something inside of you.

You tear open the wrapper and roll the condom onto him, keeping your hand at the base once you’re done. He helps you move so you’re above him and only then removes his fingers. Before you can feel the loss too greatly, he grips your thigh where it meets your hip, and you realize his hand is drenched. Your face heats up – you must be soaking wet.

That pinch of embarrassment isn’t important though once he guides himself into you. Once you feel yourself stretched around him, once he pushes past any resistance until you’re joined, none of it matters. You groan, your eyes falling shut, and he responds with a groan of his own, deeper, more desperate. At the same time, you both start to move – you roll your hips, trying to get him to go as deep as possible, he pushes up into you with quick, powerful thrusts. It feels so good your ears are ringing and you can’t hear anything else except the sound of his thighs connecting with yours, a steady slapping that encourages you to let go of anything still holding you back.

In the spur of the moment, your raise your hand and tangle your fingers in his curls. Your grip isn’t hard, but steady, aimed at keeping you in place. But when his eyes widen at your touch and he lets out an encouraging groan, you pull, careful at first, then harder, so he’s forced to let his head fall back against the couch, exposing his throat. It’s not so much the sounds he makes in response that get to you, the loud, frantic moans, it’s also not the way his Adam’s apple bobs – it’s feeling him pulse inside of you, feeling his hips stutter at your careful use of force.

This is all you need to let go completely. His reaction makes you feel so good and wanted, you stop to hold back. You show him exactly how much you’re enjoying yourself. You roll your hips faster until he stops moving, until he’s sitting there, pressed against the soft cushions, taking what you’re giving him. It had never occurred to you that anyone could make you feel like this, that he could make you feel like this.

You lean forward until your foreheads are almost touching, until you’re so close you feel his exhales tickle your skin. This comes with a slight change to the angle of him inside of you, and suddenly you feel yourself hurtling toward the edge, toward release and unspeakable pleasure. But then you remember the last time you were this close to him, when he said you weren’t allowed to come without his permission. It rekindles a flame in the pit of your stomach, a wicked one that urges you to push him a tiny bit further. 

“I’m so close,” you tell him, barely able to get the words out between sighs of pleasure. “Can I come?”

“Fuck.” He drops his head back against the cushion, your nails are scraping against his scalp. “You don’t need my permission, baby, just take whatever you want.”

Your body’s reaction is a sharp pang of pleasure deep in your core. With a shaking hand, you fumble for his and intertwine your fingers before guiding him to your clit, exactly where you want him. It doesn’t take much, just a careful press of his thumb, and you’re coming. With a desperate twitch of your hips, your whole body collapses against his. Forehead to forehead, you ride it out, trembling, panting, too weak to stop any of this, even if you wanted to. When it’s almost over, you feel him pulse inside of you and realize he’s joining you, spilling into the condom. You wish there wasn’t anything separating you and he would leave a part of himself in you.

With a gulp, you try to catch your breath. A small smile makes its way onto your face, one you see mirrored on his. And then, with a simple gesture, everything is ruined.

He leans forward, intent on capturing your lips with his, and you freeze. You panic, and the only thing that keeps you going is the urge to run. So you do. You glide off him and fumble for your clothes on the floor, ignoring his protesting, “Hey”. A dangerous cocktail of hormones and feelings makes it impossible for you to make a sound decision right now, and for some reason kissing him feels like making a promise you can’t keep. All you want is to drive home and lock yourself in your house, where no one can see you.

So you do just that.

[<< Part 3] [Part 5 >>]

***

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[something-tofightfor]

Locked Down Part 15: The Goodbye

Pairing: Dieter Bravo x Female Reader

Word Count: 6,984

Rating: Not Safe For Work. Twice. Lots of feelings. 

Summary: The hours are winding down until Dieter and Jenna’s departure, and the two of you are making the most of them ... in a lot of ways. 

Author’s note:

I hate doing this to them as much as you all hate me for doing it ... but it was necessary. I promise. 

Catch up on the other parts here: Locked Down Masterlist

You felt much better the following morning, especially when you woke up to the feeling of Dieter kissing your stomach, the man kneeling over your legs, the weight of his body suspended above you on his elbows. He’d pushed your shirt up to give himself access to your skin, and he hadn’t showered or shaved while you slept, meaning that his hair was still sleep-wild, making it much fluffier than usual. “Morning, Dieter.” You hummed out his name as you stretched, bringing a hand up to cover your yawn. “What time is it?” 

“Eleven.” He barely lifted his mouth to speak, but he did raise his gaze, locking eyes with you. “Would have let you sleep in, but …” But he didn’t want to waste our last day. You had less than 24 hours left with Dieter, and while you wouldn’t tell him, you wished that he would have woken you up sooner. But I can’t change that now. “Lift.” His hands moved from the blankets to your sides, sliding down to rest at your waist, and you moved immediately - raising your lower body from the bed so that Dieter could tug your pants down. 

You were instantly awake, breaths coming faster as he eased the material down to the point that you could kick it off of one foot, giving him better access to the parts of your body that he was seeking. “Dieter, you -” He kissed your belly button and then moved lower, his beard rough against your skin. “OK.” You decided you weren’t going to try to talk him out of anything, and when he used one hand to widen the spread of your legs, lifting one knee and then the other so  that he was positioned between them, you propped yourself up on your elbows, tilting your chin down to watch him. 

His eyes dropped from yours and then Dieter’s hands slid beneath your legs, urging you to hook them over his shoulders. For the first time, you realized that he was shirtless, the backs of your calves coming into contact with bare skin. He lifted you off of the bed, angling your body upward and then you felt his breath, warm against your damp skin, Dieter pausing before he pressed his lips to it. “Wish I could wake up like this every morning.” It was quiet, but you heard him, the declaration sending a pang through your entire body. Me too, I - 

He didn’t give you a chance to think about it, though, the man licking into you almost right away, hands gripping your hips. You moaned quietly, a smile spreading over your lips as his tongue traveled over your heated flesh, and when he shifted focus from tasting you to laving it over the surface, you curled your fingers into fists. Fuck he’s good. Before Dieter, you hadn’t been a huge fan of receiving; it wasn’t that you didn’t like the way it felt, but the men that had opted to go that route before hadn’t ever really cared about what they were doing - or what the reaction of your body was. For them, it was just about the motion, the fact that they were paying attention to the area meant to be the crowning achievement of the moment. You almost always had to use your hand - or ask them to use theirs - to get you off, but Dieter was easily able to make you come with just his tongue, though he didn’t rely on it every time. He was adept with his fingers, often curling them inside of you ad the same time he was focused with his lips or tongue on your hood and the ball of nerves beneath it, the man’s intensity unparalleled as he tried to carry you over the edge. 

That morning, he didn’t use his fingers, but he did latch his lips onto you, drawing the bud between them and flicking his tongue against it for long moments as his chin rubbed against the damp skin below. Just before it became too much, he stopped, releasing you and moving back down, his tongue extended as it traveled the length of you. “Dieter, fuck.” You gripped the blanket tighter, feeling your elbows wobble, but Dieter didn’t alter his approach, continuing to rile you up - tongue dipping into and out of you slowly while his nose nudged against you, the man’s grip on you unwavering. 

Without slowing his motion, he opened his eyes, bringing them back up to you, and you saw something in them that you hadn’t been expecting - devotion. You mouthed his name and then the words ‘oh fuck’ and collapsed, your head hitting the pillow as your mouth gaped open, Dieter doubled down on his task, the movements of his tongue sped up, the quiet grunts and groans leaving his throat growing louder. You felt them vibrating through you, and with some shock realized that there were tears in the corners of your eyes, threatening to fall. Why? What? 

It was the look in his eyes - it had shocked you to your core, the final piece of understanding that no matter what you thought in the small, dark corners of your mind, Dieter meant what he said when he promised that he wanted you, that you had nothing to worry about when you were apart, no matter what happened. It wasn’t just a quarantine romance. It wasn’t just a way for him to pass the time. It wasn’t even just a passing infatuation - you were almost convinced that the look in his eyes had been a prelude to - Oh, shit. Oh, my God. 

Your orgasm overtook you without warning, your entire body freezing, toes curling as your muscles tightened, Dieter’s name spilling from your lips in a low moan that you barely recognized. He kept going, though, Dieter’s tongue moving through you as he worked you through the aftershocks and you fought to catch your breath, heart hammering in your chest.

Finally, your legs relaxed, and you lifted a hand, reaching for the top of his head and carding your fingers through his hair. “Dieter.” Your voice shook, the sound thin. “Dieter, please, come here.” He looked up again, finally pulling away and taking a deep breath as you moved your legs to free his arms. 

He rose slowly, pressing kisses to your abdomen and belly again, and when he was hovering above you, face only inches from yours, you swallowed hard. “Hey.” His tone husky, Dieter leaned down, kissing you gently. “Good morning.” You wound an arm around his neck, urging him to stay close and initiating a deeper kiss, your tongue tracing over the seam of his lips until he parted them for you. You could taste yourself on him, slightly sweet, and when he pulled away, your chin was damp from his beard, too. 

“You’re fucking incredible, Dieter Bravo.” That time, your voice was steadier, spoken in a tone that left no room for dissent. “If I could wake up to that every morning, I’d be one happy woman.” He grinned above you, leaning down to kiss you again. “You gonna let me return the favor?” 

“Later.” Mumbling against your cheek, you could tell that he was still smiling. “We’re going to shower first, and then we’re gonna go get breakfast.” What? “I’ve got plans for today.” 

Without waiting for a response, Dieter climbed out of bed and headed for the bathroom, pajama pants hanging low on his waist, the muscles of his back taut over his broad shoulders as his arms swung. This man. Frowning, you rolled your eyes, not bothering to put pants on as you followed. 

— 

Dieter did have plans for you, and it turned out that they included exploring more of the hotel, the two of you wandering hand in hand down the hallways and through different rooms. You realized after almost an hour that it was his version of a date - the man wanting to spend time with you doing something that had nothing to do with a bed, movies, food or alcohol. Your cheeks heated at the realization, hand squeezing Dieter’s harder. 

By the time the two of you were outside, the sun shining brightly down, you were deep in conversation. He’d asked about your family and you answered, explaining some of your childhood and college years, and Dieter’s responses were just as thorough, the man telling you about his parents and brother, about his nephews - about the way he’d been in school. Under normal circumstances, it would have felt like a regular day on a vacation, the two of you leisurely strolling down the long driveway and toward the street. But that day, the grounds were completely quiet. It’s just us. “You know, I didn’t even know there was a fountain here until the first day we went to the studio stage.” 

“How? You drove past it when you came in.” Dieter shrugged, sunglasses-covered eyes facing forward. “What were you looking at?”

“Me and Jenna were probably going over an email or something. I don’t really pay much attention to outside shit when I’m in the car.” You moved from the path and onto the grass, stepping closer to the still-off fountain. “I’m usually looking over a script or reading messages or something like that. I like to multi-task.”

“You know, Dieter, a lot of people would say that you’re kind of lazy.” You were standing at the edge of the fountain, the tips of your toes hanging over the edge. “But I’ve learned over the past few months that that isn’t the case at all. You’re just … efficient.” Glancing over, you saw that he was watching you, brow furrowed. “And you care so much more than anyone will ever know, especially about your job.” 

“Some people know.” He let go of your hand, stepping behind you and winding his arms around your waist, resting his chin on your shoulder. “You know. Jenna knows. My friends and family know.” You felt him shrug. “And you’re right. I guess the more I let people think I’m a fucking asshole, the easier it is to exceed their expectations without much effort.” 

“Hopefully there’s going to be a day you don’t have to do things that way, Dieter.” Leaning back against his chest, you closed your eyes as he tightened his hold on you. “A day where you can let people see what you’re really like.” You paused. “But then again, maybe I shouldn’t hope for that.”

“Why?” He’d turned his face inward, nose resting against your cheek and his lips on your jaw. “Bet it’s a good reason.”

“Because then I wouldn’t just have a ton of people trying to sleep with you because they think you’re hot and famous.” You tilted your head to one side, smiling. “They’d be trying to because they know what a great fucking guy you are, too.” He snorted at that but pressed a kiss to your cheek before he straightened up, spinning you to face him. “What?” 

“You overestimate my appeal.” No, I don’t. “But I’m not gonna question it.” Good. “I’m not good at saying goodbye to people.” Dieter swallowed, wetting his lips. “And I’m worse when it’s in public.” He brought me here to say goodbye? “I know we still have the rest of the night, but I figured…” Dieter swore, swiping his hand over the back of his head before removing his sunglasses and hanging the arm of them on the neck of his shirt. “Look. I’m not… I’m really fucking bad at this shit, so I’m just going to start talking and -” “Dieter.” Placing a hand on his chest, you shook your head. “Slow down.” It was endearing - you could tell that he was nervous and that it was a genuine reaction, the man stumbling over his words and trying to compensate before he’d even begun. “Whatever you have to say, take your time and -” “I’ve never been this fucking into someone before.” You blinked in response, immediately shutting up. “I’ve never wanted to be around someone all the goddamn time, or wake up next to ‘em every morning. I thought at first that it was just because we were here, that it was because I got used to it, and it became a new pattern, but I don’t… I don’t think that’s what this is. And I know that after I leave here, you’re still going to be here for a couple weeks, and that even if we were both leaving at the same time we still couldn’t…” He took a deep breath. “I mean we could because you could come to LA or I could spend a couple weeks in Atlanta but… fuck, I sound like an idiot.” 

“You don’t.” Not at all. “Dieter we need to be realistic. Some of this is because the pandemic forced us to be so close. Some of this is because we couldn’t leave the hotel and go out and do shit or talk to other people. We’d be stupid to ignore that or try to deny it.” Be honest. “But that’s not the whole reason, and we both know that, too.” Here goes nothing. “We didn’t have a traditional start to this, so it’s always going to be a little different for us, but …” You cradled his cheek in your palm, rubbing your thumb over it. “I’m really into you too, Dieter. This feels … better than anything else that I’ve ever done with anyone before. And I don’t want to get ahead of myself, but I can’t… I can’t ignore that feeling, and I don’t want to.” A look of relief crossed his features then, Dieter turning his face enough to kiss the heel of your hand. “And yes, if it was possible, I would love to have you come to Atlanta with me for a while. But we both know that isn’t possible right now, and neither is LA.” You gestured back toward the hotel with one hand. “I still have work to do, and you need a break between this and Valley of Shadow.” Pausing, you took a long breath. “It doesn’t feel like it now, Dieter, but this’ll be good for us.” It doesn’t feel good at all right now.

“I know.” He closed his eyes. “Just fucking sucks.” You weren’t going to disagree with him there, so you nodded in reply, giving him what you could manage of a smile. “Are you ready to go back inside?” You were. The sunlight was beginning to lengthen, the chill in the air increasing with each passing minute - and you agreed, beginning to step away from the fountain. But Dieter stopped you, one hand shooting out to grab your wrist. What? “I wanna take a picture of us out here. Just to have it, since the only ones we have have other people in ‘em.” 

“You do?” It was strange to you that he was asking, but you appreciated it nonetheless; the fact that the man hadn’t just whipped out his phone like anyone else would have a pleasant surprise. “With the fountain in the back or -” Dieter reached for his phone, rubbing the cuff of his sleeve over the screen to clean it and then encircled you in both arms, pulling you tight against his chest. Laying your cheek against his body, you turned your head enough so that you could look out in the direction of where he was holding the camera, finding that he already had it pointed at you. “Are we smiling or what?” 

“Whatever you want.” His expression softened, the corners of the man’s mouth lifting upward, and you smiled, too, half of your face obscured as you flattened a palm against the front of his body. “Ready?” Telling him yes, Dieter wasted no time in taking a few shots of the two of you, your position changing only minimally between them. “I’ll send these to you later, alright?” 

“Perfect.” Rising onto your toes, you kissed the man’s chin and then pulled out of his hold, turning back to the hotel. “What next, Dieter? We’ve walked pretty much all over this place today, and unless we go and drink at the bar, there’s not -” “Dinner. Then we’re going back to the room.” He stepped next to you, reaching for your hand. “Your room, I mean. We’ve gotta make use of that bed while we can.” 

— 

It turned out that when Dieter had mentioned dinner, he’d meant a nice dinner, even though it there were other people in the restaurant. You figured that he’d bribed either Ronjon or Anika to get you the menus from the bistro instead of the regular bar-fare, and by the time you were finishing your entrees, you were certain of it. The food was some of the best that you’d had in months, on par with what you’d tasted during some of your favorite episodes of your show, and the fact that Dieter was across from you, matching you bite for bite and making you laugh the whole time was even better. 

You could only hope that any dates you had in the US would be just as memorable, and for some time, you forgot that the hours were winding down. Instead, you focused only on Dieter and the way he looked, sitting back in his chair with one arm slung over it, fingers gesturing wildly as he told a story. When the two of you finished laughing, you took the last sip of your own wine, setting the empty glass down on the table and drumming your fingers next to it. “This was really nice, Dieter. I haven’t been out on a real dinner date in … well, over a year because of the pandemic.” 

“Oh, so eating with me all those times before meant jack shit?” Lifting a brow, he cleared his throat. “Good to know.” 

“Yeah, how dare you wait until the very last night we’re here together to finally have a meal with me.” You rolled your eyes, running one finger around the rim of your glass. “Are you -” Your phone’s screen lighting up distracted you, eyes moving down to a flurry of Instagram alerts. What the fuck? 

“What’s that look for?” He leaned closer as you picked up the device, unlocking the screen. “You look surprised.” You’d gotten almost 50 follow requests and comment tags in the previous few minutes, along with being tagged in comments on Carol’s picture sporadically throughout the day - but the most recent comments weren’t from that picture. Oh, shit. 

“I think…” You slid your phone toward him, inhaling through your nose. “I think people are putting things together, Dieter.” His eyes scanned your screen and then he reached into his pocket, pulling out his phone and unlocking it. “The Carol picture I sort of counted on people wondering who I was, but … Dieter, I wasn’t even tagged in -” 

“I only have my account set to show me notifications from people I follow, so I haven’t seen any of this.” He sighed, thumb moving idly over the glass. “But it looks like people noticed you and I are next to each other in the screencap from Krystal’s video.” He didn’t sound upset, but he did seem a little shocked. “It took a couple months, but -” “Is that alright? I can untag myself in all of them if -” “Nope. No reason to. Makes it seem like you’re trying to hide something.” He darkened his phone, setting it down before pushing yours back toward you with the tip of a finger. “And we’re not hiding anything.” No, I guess we aren’t.  “I’m sorry.” 

“Why?” You turned your phone over, meeting his eyes. “I could have untagged myself from Carol’s picture last night when she posted, and I didn’t.” Resting your chin in your hands, you shrugged. “I worked on Cliff Beasts. I became friends with some of the cast. We took pictures together. People will see them when I post pictures when we wrap… you just happen to be leaving before anyone else.” Imagine if I posted the one we took earlier. “Your fans are good, Dieter. Thorough. Took them one day to find us again in a video from December.” He snorted, finishing his wine and then standing. 

“We can stay if you want dessert, but -” 

“No.” You shivered, eyes locked with his as you stood, too. “No, I’m full.” The two of you made the walk from the restaurant to the lobby slowly, hands joined, and stopped when you heard Anika’s voice calling out his name. 

“Dieter!” She was smiling, leaning forward over the desk. “Your car will be here at eight tomorrow morning. Would you like us to send someone up a few minutes before to get your luggage?” Less than twelve hours. It hit you hard and you felt your grip on his hand tighten, Dieter glancing over at you before he replied. 

“I’m actually all packed. If you want to send a cart up tonight, you can.” You knew that was the case - he had a small carryon bag with a few things in your room, but the majority of his stuff was in suitcases, piled by the door of his. “Stick it in the back office.” He cleared his throat. “Might wanna call Jenna’s room too, see if she’s done, or… yeah.” 

“I can do that.” Anika’s gaze moved to you, the smile remaining on her face. “Will you be in your room to answer the bellhop, Dieter?”  

“I can be.” He laughed. “I’ll go and do a final pass, give me a half hour?” Anika nodded in reply, standing straight up and telling the two of you to have a good night. It stunned you how different your interactions with the woman had become from only a few months prior - the perceived ‘feud’ between the two of you all but erased by the woman’s realization that you and Dieter weren’t just fucking around and that you actually cared about him - and he about you. “You alright? You’re quiet.” 

The elevator doors closed, Dieter’s chin angled down toward you. “Yeah, just thinking.” Chewing on your lip, you turned your head to look at him. “I think Anika and I could become friends, Dieter. And I wouldn’t have thought that was possible before Christmas, but now… It’s nice to know someone else that genuinely cares about you the way she does... and Jenna does… and I do.” 

“I’m pretty lucky then.” He stopped in front of his door, unlocking it. “Jenna around all the time, you only a phone call away and Anika as a safety net on another continent if I need one.” You were still unsure of Dieter’s connection with the woman, but to hear him describe her that way was a relief, and you understood the magnitude of the admission. “You wanna hang out here while I wait for them to come get my stuff? Or do you want to go back to your room?” You thought for a few seconds and then plopped down on Dieter’s bed, crossing you legs at the knee. 

“I can wait, unless you want me to go.” Waving you off, Dieter began moving around the room, opening and closing drawers and closet doors, checking beneath furniture and in the wall plugs for stray cords. “Bathroom drawer, Dieter. Don’t forget that.” He stepped out a few seconds later with a couple items in his hands - a bottle of cologne, a lighter and a small baggie filled with the remainder of his weed. “You didn’t finish it.” “I didn’t. And I’m going to leave it with you.” He reached out and you took the bag, eyeing the contents - not only was there green, but also a couple rolling papers as well. “You might not smoke it, so you can always toss it before you leave if you need to.” He relocked the suitcase, and then turned back toward you. “But I know how the ends of these shoots go. You’ll probably need it.” 

“You’re … more than likely right.” Curling your fingers around the bag, you lifted up enough to shove it into your back pocket. “Was that it?” Why is he still holding the bottle? 

“I think so.” He sat next to you, nudging you with his shoulder and handing you the bottle when you turned to look at him. “Keep this, too. Make it feel like I’m here.” You took the bottle from him with shaking hands, biting your lip and thanking him. I wouldn’t have thought of that. Dieter urged you to lay on your back, both of you staring up at the ceiling. He stayed quiet for almost a minute and then said your name, releasing a breath. “I’m not going to miss this hotel.” You laughed at that, turning onto your side and throwing an arm over his midsection. “I checked. Shit’s starting to reopen in LA. I’m going to go get a greasy burger as soon as -” “Oh my God, I’m jealous.” You’d just eaten a delicious meal, and yet you could almost taste the food he was talking about, Dieter’s arm tightening around your back to hold you against him. “At least get out of the airport first, save yourself some money and get a real one.” 

“On my way home.” He sighed, kissing the top of your head. “Got a place on the way from the airport to my house already picked out.” You didn’t have a chance to reply before there was a knock on the door and Dieter rose to answer it, leaving you to sit back up on the edge of the bed and wait. 

It wasn’t Ronjon - to your surprise - but the young man quickly loaded all of Dieter’s bags onto the cart, Dieter reaching into his back pocket for his wallet to press a bill into the other man’s hand discreetly. Once the two of you were alone again, he turned toward you - but kept moving, rotating in a slow, complete circle. “Thought you weren’t going to miss it?” 

“I’m not.” He faced you again, settling one hand on his hip. “I’m taking a last look at the room that was pretty much a prison for me for the last 6 months.” Standing, you made your way over to him, stopping just out of reach. 

“Could have been worse.” He narrowed his eyes, waiting. “You could have had a shitty neighbor.” 

— 

Three hours later, you were exhausted, Dieter’s body heavy above yours as you both writhed against the sheets of your bed. 

You were spent - literally and figuratively, and you knew that Dieter most likely was, too. But the two of you couldn’t seem to stop touching each other, the man’s lips mapping a path over your skin that you would have bet money on him already knowing by heart. Your lips were swollen, skin tingling from the drag of his beard, and you knew that he had marks on his back from the way you’d gripped him as the two of you sat up in the center of your bed, your legs wrapped around his waist as he rocked his hips into yours. 

It had been an accident, but you’d bitten a bruise into his shoulder, teeth sinking into his skin as he wrung another orgasm from your body, the man’s following only a few moments later, Dieter moaning out your name in a broken wail. 

If the date earlier had been his way of saying goodbye, this was his way of making sure that you weren’t ever really without him. How could I be? You raked your fingers through his tangled curls, the roots of them damp with sweat, and pulled Dieter’s face away from your chest and up, needing to kiss him again. He swallowed the quiet sound of you humming, the man’s tongue prodding against yours, and when he pulled back from you, there was a contented look in his eyes. “Dieter, I need to… I need to breathe for a second.” 

“I know.” He pressed his lips together, breaths coming quick. “I just…” Dieter blinked slowly, a lazy smile on his face. “Can’t help it.” I know. I can’t either. “I need to let you get some rest, though. I have an 11 hour flight I can sleep through, you have a full day with Darren.” The groan you let out was loud that time, one of your hands rising to cover your face as he stood. Don’t remind me. “Let me get something to clean you up, then we’ll sleep, and …” No. Not yet. 

“Wait.” You sat up, reaching for Dieter. “Before you do that…” He stood nude in front of you, your eyes moving down from his face to his abdomen and then lower. “Do you think you’ve got one more in you, Bravo?” Curling your fingers, you trailed your nails up his thighs and against his pelvis, the man’s hips jerking forward slightly. “Want you in my mouth one last…” He reached out then, guiding your head into a tilt so that he could meet your gaze. 

“For you? Yeah. Always.” Dieter winked and you moved your hands from where they were to settle at the base of him, the fingers of one wrapping around his still soft length. Not completely soft, though. Drawing it up and toward you, you extended your tongue and licked the tip, savoring the first bead of salty liquid. “Shit.” 

He reached forward to settle his hands on your shoulders as you took his head into your mouth, swirling your tongue around it at the same time you began to pump his length in a slow, deliberate motion.  He stiffened in your hold, and as the seconds passed, you shortened the strokes with your hand and used your mouth more, inches of him disappearing between your lips and toward the back of your throat. He didn’t move much, but you felt his hips rocking slightly, the man easing himself deeper into your waiting mouth. 

He was holding back and you knew it, letting you lead, letting you set the pace, and even though that was fine, you wanted more. Releasing him with a pop, you kept twisting your wrist to manipulate him, taking a deep breath and looking up. “Dieter?” He opened his eyes, though the lids remained hooded, the man questioning you wordlessly. “You can … you don’t have to stay still. I can take it.” There was a single nod in return and then you took him between your lips again, tongue dragging along the underside of him over and over. He gave you a minute or two and then Dieter did move, starting out with slow, short thrusts as he steadied himself on your shoulders and then lengthening them as you got sloppier, letting go of him and replacing your hands on his hips. 

He was a mouthful - as always - but he was careful not to hurt you, even as he found a rhythm and stuck to it, your thumbs digging into his skin, eyes closed. He hit the back of your throat and you gagged - but when Dieter moved to pull away, you didn’t let him, instead moaning around him, knowing that the vibration of it would explain what you were unwilling to pull away from him to say. I’m fine. I can handle it. When Dieter resumed his movement, it was slower, giving you the chance to swallow him, your lips making contact with the wiry hair at his base before he eased back. 

Over and over, he repeated the movement until you did return your hand to him, carefully releasing him from your mouth with a loud pop and then swallowing. Shit. “You alright? That was - “ 

“I’m fine.” He was glistening in your hand, the man coated in your spit, and you licked your lips, taking another breath. “Perfectly fine, Dieter.” Circling the pad of your thumb over his slit, you watched as Dieter’s eyes closed, the man’s jaw hanging slack for a few seconds before he caught himself and closed it, teeth digging into his lower lip. Instead of putting him back into your mouth, you tugged him forward, leaning down and then running your tongue over the top of him, slowly making your way from tip to base before you pressed a kiss to his stomach, humming as you retraced the path and then swallowed him again, not even bothering to hide the groan as you took him almost to the hilt. 

“Fucking shit.” Dieter hissed out the words, grip on your shoulders tightening, and when his hips snapped forward, you dropped your hand, taking his sac between your fingers and massaging it gently, thumb rubbing over the rounded surface. He moaned your name out, one of Dieter’s hands rising to grip the back of your neck - not holding you in place but holding you nonetheless. You doubled down your efforts - bobbing your head, using your tongue, cradling him in your hand, but never keeping the same motion for long, changing things up until you heard him hiss again, Dieter’s hips moving of their own volition as he quickened his pace. 

You knew he was going to come - felt his muscles tighten as his sac drew up slightly, Dieter’s thigh muscles flexing as his hips stuttered. You sealed your mouth over him and focused on his head, laving over it with your tongue, the muscle catching on the lower ridge of him briefly and then Dieter was spilling down your throat - hot and salty, the taste of him dripping backwards over your tongue as you sighed in pleasure. There wasn’t a lot - you’d been correct in assuming that he was nearly spent, but you sucked him clean anyway and then pulled your mouth off, the hand between his legs moving back to rest against his hip, fingers slowly stroking over the skin there. “Almost done, Dieter.” You murmured the words, eyes still on him as he slowly softened in your hand, remnants of his release begging to be licked away. You did, angling him and then carefully using your tongue, the man’s abdominal muscles contracting to jerk him away from you, the sensitivity getting to him. 

Satisfied that you were done, you moved to slide backwards and away from him, but Dieter hauled you to your feet, kissing you hard without waiting to see what you’d say, his tongue thrusting between your lips and deep into your mouth, searching for a taste of himself. 

Bodies pressed together, you kissed until you were breathless, your nails clawing at the skin of his chest as he gripped your lower back, fingers digging into your spine. Oh, shit. That… You finally broke away, gasping for a breath, and Dieter did the same, the man inhaling, his chest expanding against yours before he said your name under his breath, adding a quiet “fuck” after it. “That was perfect, Dieter.” You cleared your throat, finally removing yourself from his hold. “So fucking perfect, but …” A sideways glance at the clock told you it was nearly two am, the man’s alarm set to go off in roughly five hours, meaning that’s when you were getting up, too. “We need to shower, and then get in bed.” 

You hated saying it. You didn’t want to spend the last five hours you had together sound asleep, but at least it meant that you’d get another morning waking up next to him and knowing that it was your body that allowed him to sleep so deeply, the things that the two of you had done in bed tiring him out without fail. “I know.” He ruffled a hand through his hair, and then Dieter abruptly spun away from you, heading for the bathroom. “Are you coming or what?” 

— 

You hadn’t even realized that you’d fallen asleep when you opened your eyes to the sound of his alarm the following morning, the repetitive beeping loud in the mostly-dark confines of your room. He was still in the bed, though, eyes open and staring at you, a sad smile on his face. “Time to get up.” Yeah, I know. He leaned in, kissing you on the mouth, and while it lingered, it wasn’t nearly long enough, Dieter pulling back and sitting up before you’d really had a chance to enjoy anything. 

He yawned as he stood after silencing the phone, the man plodding slowly over to the table - and his bag - before pulling on a shirt and a pair of pants and socks, his actions slow. He yawned again when he moved into the bathroom, closing the door behind him, and you used the time to pull on clothes of your own - just leggings and a sweatshirt along with the necklace he’d given you - nothing fancy for a day of lugging the camera around. And no one to impress.

He was still yawning when he emerged from the bathroom, his hair completely dry but in a messy halo around his face, the clean curls begging for attention in the light from one of the bedside lamps. “Did you even sleep?” 

“For a little while.” He zipped his bag, sniffing. “Kept falling asleep and waking up. You didn’t move, though. You were out.” 

“That’s what happens when you have your way with me, Dieter.” Sliding your phone in your pocket, you moved closer to him, deciding that you’d come back and get your camera equipment after he was gone. “Guess I have to up my game next time, because - “ “Oh, no. I’m exhausted. Believe me. I guess I just … didn’t want to sleep.” He wasn’t saying it, but you knew - he felt the same as you had about it being the last night together. I don’t need him to say it, though. “Jenna texted me while I was in the bathroom. She said the car’s already on its way, so…” 

“It’s time to go.” Slipping your feet into shoes, you moved to stand next to Dieter, throwing your arms around him before he’d had a chance to pick up his bag. “I know.” He hugged you tightly, nose buried in your hair, and for long moments, neither of you spoke. It’s going to be fine. I’ll see him before the end of summer. You hoped that was the case. Even though you didn’t know what your work schedule would be, you had an idea of his, and that was enough to give you something to look forward to. “I don’t want to keep Jenna waiting.” 

He laughed in reply, slinging the strap of his bag over one shoulder, and then you and Dieter made your way for the door, fingers tightly linked together as you stepped into the hallway and toward the elevator.  It was only 7:40 by the time you made it down into the brightly lit atrium, Anika standing behind the desk with Ronjon, and Jenna seated in a chair, phone in hand and sunglasses on her head. “Give me a second.” He squeezed your hand once and then let go, setting his bag down next to Jenna’s chair and then turned for the front desk. 

Dieter ignored Ronjon’s questions as he rounded the desk and instead pulled the blond woman into his arms, hugging her almost as tightly as he held you. He spoke to her, too, though you couldn’t hear what he said, and when they separated, the woman had tears in her eyes as she nodded up at him, a tiny smile on her face. She rose onto her tiptoes and kissed his cheek before settling back and lifting her hands to place them on his bearded cheeks, laughter bubbling from her lips. Good. I’m glad that’s ending on a good note. 

As he made his way back to where you stood, Dieter moved with purpose, eyes focused on your face. He didn’t stop when he was in front of you, instead gathering you into his arms and kissing you hard, unashamed at the fact that there were other people in the room. You kissed him back, Dieter nipping at your lower lip when he broke away from you, and both of you smiled, laughing quietly. “I’m glad it wasn’t Chris Hemsworth that was staying next to me for this shoot.” You pressed your lips together, thumb arcing through the hair at the nape of his neck. 

“Chris Hemsworth’s kind of a dick,” he whispered back at you, leaning in to kiss you again. “I’ll text you later?” Telling him that he better, you stepped away from him and looked to Jenna, nodding once at the sympathetic look in the woman’s eyes before you returned your attention to Dieter, the man bending down to pick up his bag again. Pulling his sunglasses out of the collar of his shirt, he stared into your eyes for long moments and then let them wander over your face, nodding slowly. I’m going to miss you so fucking much. He winked and then slid the sunglasses up his nose, covering his eyes before he turned away and held his hand out to help Jenna up. 

The two of them made their way through the open archway and then toward the front door, talking quietly. You hadn’t planned on it but you stepped closer, giving yourself the ability to watch as they reached it. Jenna pulled it open with one hand while Dieter held her bag, the two of them stepping out and into the bright morning light. He didn’t look back, but you weren’t surprised - not because you didn’t think he wanted to, but because you knew that if he did, he would have run back to where you stood, kissing you again. It’s better that he didn’t. 

The door closed behind them, completely hiding Dieter and Jenna from view, and as soon as it did, Clifton felt just a little bit darker. 

— 

[wardenparker]

You’re So Vain - Chapter 13

Dieter Bravo x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst​

Oscar winning star Dieter Bravo’s reputation is suffering after the debacle of “Cliff Beasts 6″ and “Beasts of the Bubble”, so his management team has signed him on to a publicity stunt to find his soulmate and show the world a softer side of the erratic and unpredictable star. The plan quickly go awry, though, when Dieter’s soulmate wants nothing to do with him.    

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 15.7k Warnings: *Blanket warning for chronic illness, cursing, and deceased family members. This is a Dieter fic, folks, so there absolutely will be discussions of drugs, drug use, and addiction.* Enemies to lovers, food/alcohol consumption, family reunion. Biting, fingering,  unprotected sex, vaginal sex, so much goddamn fluff and love you could just explode. Summary: On your last day in Switzerland before returning home, you have a very big surprise for Dieter. Notes: We’re approaching the end now (just two more chapters and the epilogue 💗✨) and this journey has just been absolutely amazing. Don’t worry though, there’s more drama to come before the end!

Ch 1 ~ Ch 2 ~ Ch 3 ~ Ch 4 ~ Ch 5 ~ Ch 6 ~ Ch 7 ~ Ch 8 ~ Ch 9 ~ Ch 10 ~ Ch 11 ~ Ch 12

If the two of you have been a touch mopier (and even touchier) for the last few days, it’s because the fast-approaching end of your time with him overseas has definitely cast a pall over things. This morning you lazed in bed drawing sighs and moans from each other until one of your stomachs rumbled for attention, then shared a shower and grabbed an espresso before getting in the car. The special request you had asked of him sounded very small, but the truth is that it is so much bigger than he could possibly know.

Last night you asked him if you could drive out to Satigny Village about a half hour from Geneva toward the French border because you had read about a place called Boulangerie Fabienne – a bakery with stellar reviews and a nearly cult-like following known for their growing patisserie. The place had recently added a few counter stools and started serving at tables inside and you gave him wide, pleading eye until he agreed. Though that didn’t take long.

What you hadn’t told him is that you have been in touch with the Merz family that owns the bakery. Three solid days of sitting in Dieter’s dressing room with your laptop had been spent with your head buried in his family tree until you finally found his mother’s family - so close that you could almost throw something and hit the side of their home. How many times had he been in Geneva and never known how near to his mother’s hometown he was? It would have been so easy to see them any time he had wanted, but now that chance would finally be had.

The car ride is easy, even if you’re fiddling with your phone a little, texting his cousin Arya who is your main point of contact for the family. His aunt and uncle aren’t very tech savvy, but Arya happily played messenger between all of you and had put a huge effort into planning out a family dinner for tonight in the home she lives in with her parents, husband, and two kids. The home Dieter’s aunt and mother grew up in. The home that has belonged to his family for more than a century.

The drive to the little town is beautiful, a windows-open kind of day and he is thankful that you don’t mind that. The radio plays in the background and it’s sappy, but he just doesn’t want to let go of your hand while the other is on the steering wheel of the little car that has zipped you to places all over Geneva over the past few weeks. “So what made you find this place? Reviews?” He asks, knowing you love trying new experiences but curious as to where you are finding this stuff.

“I found it on a list of hidden gems.” That much is true, although you found that particular list well after your first email to Arya. “Because they’re so close to the border, they do a lot of French specialties as well as Swiss. The place is family-owned. The original owner in 1876 named it after his young daughter. Hence, Boulanger Fabienne.”

Dieter nods, just thinking it’s the random facts that you love to learn about, and he glances over to give you a quick smile. “Admit it, you want to take a box home to Steph.” He teases lightly.

“Their website says they’ll ship internationally,” you grin, loving how well he’s learned you over the last few weeks. “If it’s as good as I hope it will be, I definitely want to ship a box of things home.”

“Well, it’s a good thing that I’m starving.” Dieter grunts, squeezing your hand lightly. “You’ve worn me out, couldn’t get something to eat earlier since someone was needing to cum again.” Both of you have been insatiable since the day after admitting that you love each other, and he doesn’t know if he’s ever going to get enough. He thought he liked sex before, but now…

“You weren’t complaining at the time.” Sending him a wink when he glances over at you, the warmth in your cheeks is both teasing and excitement as he pulls onto the village’s main thoroughfare. “It’s supposed to be about halfway into the village.” Swiss addresses are still a little touch and go for you, but the picturesque little village is someplace you would willingly get lost forever. It looks like a fairy tale. “I think that’s it there. The blue building at the end of the block. On the right.”

“Okay.” Dieter pulls into an empty parking spot and puts the car into park. The hours are listed on the glass windows, and he winces. “We better hurry.” He tells you. “They are about to close.”

“That’s what we get for spending the morning and a little of the afternoon in bed.” In actuality, you had timed everything nearly perfectly. “Come on baby, I owe you a good lunch.” And hopefully so much more.

Dutifully, he’s climbing out of the car and walking around the hood to meet you, his fingers tangling with yours with practiced ease. “You know, it’s Tuesday and we aren’t having tacos.” He jokes. “I know you will eat some for me when you get home, right?”

“I promise.” Grinning, you press a kiss to his cheek and nudge him towards the door. “But first, I need to have one more laugen cheese roll before I leave the country.” Going home tomorrow morning is going to be heartbreaking, but you smile anyway. The joy of today will hopefully make it worth it.

“I’ll be bringing you some home.” He promises, dropping a kiss on your nose and laughing when it scrunches. “I’m gonna find a recipe for Rico. I can see cheese rolls split open and filled with Birria.”

“Fuck.” You groan happily, pulling the door open. “I’m so hungry.”

The smell hits him and he groans, his own stomach growling at the amazing scents. The tell-tale smells of a bakery are there, but there are also notes of spice and meat, and he wonders if they are cooking a family meal in the kitchen. It would make sense since it’s family owned. “Whatever they are making, I want it.” He moans, mouthwatering.

“Bienvenue!” A cheery, bright-eyed woman in a pair of neat jeans, a soft green blouse, and an apron embroidered with the bakery’s logo is out in front of the counter tidying up.

“Hello.” Arya Bachmann looks exactly like her photograph, and you have to stop yourself from jumping forward and giving her a giant hug for being so helpful and accepting of the idea of meeting her long-lost cousin. “I’m sorry, my French is terrible.”

“That is fine.” She answers in English, setting her cleaning cloth down on the other side of the counter and wiping her hands on her apron. “What can I do for you today?” She knows you. She is practically vibrating with it. The picture you sent of you and Dieter was only a few days old when you attached it to the email. But seeing you in person is more exciting than she imagined.

Dieter looks around and grins, knowing this place will be emptying a few of their pastries for you to take back to the hotel for midnight snacks. “My soulmate insisted we try this place.” He tells her. “So I’m sure a lot of boxes of one of everything at least. And whatever that amazing smell is.”

"I'll be happy to box whatever you wish." She smiles, rocking a little on the balls of her feet so as not to startle the man she knows is her family by wrapping him up in a hug immediately. "But I am afraid that some of what you smell is preparation for a family dinner tonight. We have a special guest joining us tonight. It is a very important occasion."

“Oh,” he nudges you with waggled eyebrows, slightly smug at his correct guess that they would be closing down soon. “We won’t keep you long then.” He promises, looking over at the counter to browse.

"Actually, Dee..." You squeeze his hand gently, glancing between him and Arya with a growing smile. "We're invited. Um..." For just a split second you're terrified that he's going to freak out, but you brush it off. Dieter's family is so excited to meet him that you can't possibly let him pass this up. "This is Arya. She's...she's your cousin, honey."

Dieter blinks, shocked silent for a moment and he looks back and forth between you and the woman behind the counter. “Cousin?” He shakes his head and wonders how that can be. “My mother was an only child.”

"She has a sister." Shaking your head reluctantly, you swallow a sigh of hurt on his part. "An older sister. I don't know why she never told you, but...all that time on my laptop in your dressing room over the last few days? I was trying to see if I could track down your family before I had to leave."

"Your soulmate sent an e-mail here, to the bakery, when she found us." Arya explains, gently wringing her hands with obvious nerves. "My mother is your Aunt Luisa. Your mother's older sister. They...they never knew where she went or what happened to her. Maman said her sister ran away when they were young and she never returned any of Mémé's letters." She shrugs sadly, not wanting to give Dieter the impression that his family does not care about him, for that is completely the opposite of the truth. "We are so grateful for the chance to meet you, if you would like to meet us."

“I—I didn’t know.” Dieter swallows, suddenly nervous – like he is auditioning for the role of a lifetime. Perhaps because he feels like he is. “I thought maybe I would find my grandparents’ grave or something.” He admits quietly, even though he had done nothing to actually look for them. “My sister was the one who—” he breaks off and gives a small shrug. “She wanted to find family years ago.”

"Mémé and Pépé are both very much alive." Arya chuckles softly and dares to take a step forward toward her cousin. "I think they are likely to outlive us all out of stubbornness."

His eyes widen dramatically and he looks at you, eyes watering. “I— they’re alive?” He asks softly, clinging to your hand and squeezing your fingers. “I— do they know? Did you, uh, know that I was— that I am—”

“I told them a little.” You admit, reaching to brush the tears from his eyes. Addiction is often a hereditary issue and you had wondered if there might be anyone else in the family tree that struggled, but it looks like that must have been his father’s side, if at all. “Arya’s soulmate is a fan, actually.”

“We’ve seen almost everything you’ve ever made,” she admits sheepishly. Her sons love his movies as well, and knowing the truth now gives her such a feeling of guilt somehow. Like she should have known, even though that is impossible. “But that is not why we are excited to know you, Dieter. You are family, and that is everything to us.”

He blows out a breath, overwhelmed and honestly nervous. He’s had no family for years and not suddenly he has cousins and grandparents? “Wow.” He gives a shy chuckle. “This is not what I was expecting.”

“If it’s too much, we’ll all understand.” That is something that you and Arya had discussed at length, and that his family understood. This is a surprise, and it might be overwhelming for him. “But if you’re up for it, how about we spend the rest of the day getting to know your family a little bit?”

“No, I want to.” Dieter promises, looking over at Arya and tries to see if he can see anything of his mother in his cousin. “I just— I wish Danica was here.”

"We wish she was, too." Arya nods. You had mentioned the loss of his sister and it grieved her to know that he had been alone through all of that. "But perhaps we can light a candle to remember her tonight? That is...that is something we do. When all of us get together, we light candles for those of us who are missing."

Feeling choked up again, all he can do is nod, squeezing your hand again. He can’t believe that this is happening, all because of you. “Yeah. That would work.” He sighs.

"Have a seat." Arya motions to the nearby set of small tables. "I will get us some coffees and some things to eat, and we can talk a little?" She has a feeling that he'll feel a little less uneasy if he knows even one more person going into supper tonight and she doesn't blame him.

“I can’t believe you did this.” Dieter murmurs as the two of you walk towards the table. “It’s— I can’t believe it. You are amazing, you know that?”

"I love you." Even though you've said it countless times since the first, it still makes your heart soar, and you hug him quickly before the two of you sit down. "And I want you to be happy. You've wanted to know them for years, baby. I just...I didn't know if you would ever do this on your own. And I didn't want you to miss out again."

“I don’t deserve you.” What you’ve done deserves a kiss and he doesn’t hesitate, pulling you into his arms and giving you a very appreciative kiss that might not be appropriate for public, but he doesn’t care.

The tray that Arya reappears with is laden with bowls of gorgeous looking soup sporting veggies, beef, and barley, and three of the delicious, cheesy rolls that you had named before – along with espressos, glasses of water, and a plate of the Linzer cookies that the bakery is so famous for. You have no idea how she's managing to balance it all so well, but she does it with the effortlessness of a prima ballerina. "So," she begins setting things out and fully empties the tray out in front of the three of you before sitting down with you and Dieter. "What can I tell you about our family, cousin?"

“I don’t know what to ask, honestly.” Dieter admits, biting his lip and giving a small shrug. “Who all is going to be there tonight?”

"There are four generations of us still living." Arya explains, passing out the rolls before digging into her apron pocket and pulling out a piece of paper. "I—I made you a little family tree...I hope it will help, even a little." The handwritten chart includes Dieter and Danica, and their father. "Maman – my mother, your aunt – she knew your father's name, but nothing else about him," she admits.

Dieter bites his lip and frowns, trying to align what she is telling him with what he knows of his parents meeting. “They supposedly met while he was backpacking across Europe.” He tells her, pointing at his father’s name. “He died in 2002. I do know that.”

"I didn't know that. I'm sorry, honey." Gently squeezing his hand on the table, you pick up your water glass with your other hand and take a sip.

"Hopefully the idea of gaining some family outweighs the hurt." Arya offers. She knows that nothing can truly repair the hurt of losing someone you love, but she knows that her family has always been there for her just like they will be there for him.

Dieter shrugs slightly, unwilling to be hurt by someone who he had limited contact with for most of his life. "Honestly, I didn't know him. Although I don't know now if it was because he wanted nothing to do with us, or if my mother made sure that we didn't want anything to do with him." He's hurt, very hurt to know he had family that he never got a chance to know because of her lies.

"We are here now." His cousin promises, reaching across the table to take his other hand. "If we had known how to find you, we might have done this many more times by now."

He's grateful that she is so nice, smiling at her in appreciation. "Our - our grandparents...." He ventures softly. "What are they like?"

“They’re kind.” Arya returns the smile as easily as breathing but chuckles a little. “Well, they are now. They were much stricter when I was young, but time has softened them.” As everyone begins to eat, she hums a little and tries to pick out what tidbits of information to offer. “Mémere likes to paint. She has painted everyone in the family several times over, I think. And my boys - I have two teenagers - are teaching Pépere to play video games. Usually he just sits and watches but he knows all the characters and the plots from games they like.”

He chuckles slightly, nodding. "I would do the same." He admits. "Can't play video games for anything, unless it's the original Atari." He doesn't know anything about a family dynamic, he's been alone for a long time.

“Does anyone else in the family paint or do other kinds of art?” You had wondered plenty about his family after you had started talking to his cousin, hoping that there would be plenty for him to latch on to and have in common with them.

“Oh, yes.” She nods eagerly. Mémere, my mother, and my boys. Ever since they were small. Our home is like their private art gallery.”

Dieter snorts, shaking his head. "Well, I always wondered where I got it from." He muses, reaching over and taking your hand. "She paints as well. Is an art teacher and a damn fine one." He tells his cousin, nodding at you.

“Our niece,” Arya says our to him like it’s some kind of magic spell and it makes her smile even more. “Noemi is only five, but she likes plays very much. She dresses up and acts out her favourite stories. Perhaps she will follow in her uncle’s footsteps one day?”

Dieter grins and feels proud that he can contribute to a family. "Only if she wants to, but don't let her get into it too early." He advises. "Let her be a child for now."

Arya’s chuckle is full of life as she pauses with a piece of bread halfway to her mouth. “You try to tell her that. I think she has already chosen her first red carpet dress.” She shakes her head again, glad to see Dieter smiling. “She is an angel, my brother’s daughter, and your soulmate says you are wonderful with children. You will love her.”

He shakes his head. "I'm not sure if I would say that I'm wonderful with kids, but I like them." He tells her with a shrug. "They are curious and accepting."

“You’re amazing with Nora.” You protest, always knowing he was going to sell himself short. “The hospital trip? Come on – not everybody could have handled that and you made her feel so safe.”

"Who wouldn't in that situation?" He asks, raising a brow at you, knowing that none of you would have turned their back on a little girl needing comfort. Not even as selfish as he is.

“He doesn’t always take compliments well,” you tell Arya with a smirk. Sometimes, of course, he’s a complete shit about it. But never when it comes to Nora. And definitely not right now.

He rolls his eyes and huffs, feeling slightly defensive about that observation. He hates that you seem to see the way into his soul sometimes, even if he appreciates it. "Yeah, yeah." He blows a very mature raspberry at you.

“I see what you mean.” His cousin laughs, nodding as though you had described that reaction from him specifically. Which you probably could have if you had predicted this conversation.

Dieter rolls his eyes again and takes another bite of his soup although he ends up laughing along with her. It was true that sometimes he could be a vain S.O.B. but then he also would get shy at a genuine compliment.

“Love you.” You grin, still giggling slightly as you lean over to kiss his cheek.

“You are good together.” Arya laughs, letting her spoon rest in her now empty bowl. “How long have you known each other?”

Biting his lip, he looks over at you. He wants to tease you about the first time you had told him to go fuck himself, but he doesn't want to embarrass you with his family. If you want to tell that tale, he would let you do it. "Nearly three months, right?"

“It’s actually three months on Saturday.” You can just feel the way your cheeks burn that you know it down to the day, but you’re proud of him and of how far you’ve come together.

"Three adventurous months." He tells his cousin with a chuckle and tosses you a smirk.

“This is the biggest adventure I’ve ever been on,” you explain to Arya, shrugging your shoulders. “I had never left the country before, and all of a sudden I’m in one of the most gorgeous places I’ve ever seen in my life for three whole weeks. It’s been amazing.” And really, that’s all down to Dieter – something which you’re incredibly grateful for.

He grins, proud that he could give you that, his hand sliding up and around your shoulder. "Plus, she just got her first tattoo." He tells Arya proudly. "Branded me." He tosses you a wink and smirks. "Like I branded her."

“My soulmate is afraid of needles.” Arya laughs at that, as though it’s something she has teased him about many times before. “He is covered in all of my cuts and burns from growing up in this bakery, but there is not one single tattoo between us.”

Dieter smirks. "You could always get one, when it transfers over to your soulmate, it's just a sharp pain and then the beautiful artwork."

“I wouldn’t know what to get.” She doesn’t hate the idea, though, always having liked the way that real art looks on skin. “Can I ask what inspired you to get yours?”

"Show her." Dieter encourages you. "She actually designed it herself."

"Actually, what inspired me was him." You explain, unbuttoning your shirt just enough to loosen the neck so you can drop it off one shoulder to show Arya your tattoo. "They are the favourite flowers of all of the most important people in my life. Dee, my niece Nora, my sister-in-law Stephanie, and...and my brother, Shawn. We lost him to Covid, unfortunately. I've been helping raise his daughter since he got sick."

"I am so sorry for your loss." Arya murmurs, even as she admires the watercolor of flowers that are inked into your skin. "It is a gorgeous tribute to those that you love." She shifts in her seat to look more closely, not quite touching the colours inscribed in your skin with her fingertips but tracing the lines. "Would you..." she almost laughs at herself, but shrugs. Not that you can see it. Dieter can, and she glances at him before looking back at your shoulder. "Would you design one like this for me, if I asked? I'm not sure what of, but the style is so beautiful."

"Oh!" You fluster, head popping up to look at Dieter in shock that his cousin would ask something that is such a huge compliment. "I—I mean, of course. If you wanted that, I would draw whatever you wanted." You can't imagine that she would have any kind of outlandish request, or something you would feel uncomfortable painting for her. "That's so kind of you."

Beaming with pride, Dieter winks at you. "I told you that you could design some wonderful tattoos." He reminds you softly.

"Maybe that's what I should do from now on." It's so unrealistic that it practically makes you giggle as you readjust and rebutton your shirt. "I'll become a tattoo artist for the irony."

He snickers and shakes his head. “Still think you need to do traveling art classes.” He reminds you. “That way you can go any and everywhere you want.”

"Are you thinking of changing careers?" As much as Arya appreciates art, she has never been very good at producing it and never really had the patience for studying it. If she could ever claim to be an artist at all, it is with pastry.

"More like changing what kind of teacher I am," you tell her, reaching to squeeze Dieter's hand gently. "Becoming a private teacher would let me choose what I want to teach, and when, and where. So I could travel and see the world like I always wanted to, but keep teaching and making art, which I love."

“She would be fantastic at it,” Dieter brags. “She’s painting the portraits that are being used in my latest movie. The one we are here shooting now.” He loves that he gets to say that. “And plenty of people on set have asked her to teach them.”

"You could just travel to wherever he is filming." It's such a glamorous idea – and outlandish because of it – that it makes Arya smile at the two of you. "Hold classes for anyone working on his films as well as anyone local. I know I would certainly come if you ever taught a class here someday." Just because she doesn't have a natural talent for art doesn't mean that she wouldn't like to try to learn. Especially from someone so talented.

Dieter sends you a look that screams ‘I told you so’ and grins. “Isn’t it a great idea? I told her that she could always find local coffee shops or say…bakeries, to hold her classes in. Give them some business and let them advertise as a special afternoon.” He turns to his cousin. “What would you say as a business owner if someone proposed that?”

"I think most business owners would say that their first concern is cost." Arya admits, though she hates having to say it. She has the luxury of managing a long-lasting, well-loved, ever-growing family business and tries to never take it for granted. "Some will want a portion of your profits. Like the way concert halls keep a portion of ticket sales. But to have someone teach art here? That would only help my business. I cannot see a reason to say no, and I know that many would find it exciting."

“It’s honestly questions that would need to be worked through.” Dieter acknowledges. “But I could see how having that information and a plan would be a good idea.”

"Art is disappearing from American schools, is it not?" She asks you, and the way her brows furrow with concern is somehow almost identical to the way Dieter's does also.

"It's difficult. We try to do our best with the students given what the schools allow, but there is no budget for supplies. Most of it comes out of my own pocket. Not to mention the strain put on our time by requiring all of us to do things like chaperone school functions and run after school activities." You sigh, hating the guilt that twists in your gut whenever you think about leaving teaching. It can be so rewarding, but it can also be such a suffocating source of stress. "If I didn't love my students, I think I would have already left for something else."

Dieter reaches for your hand, knowing that it would be a loss for the education world for you to leave, feeling slightly selfish for wanting it. Maybe he needs to back off pushing. “Her students are very loyal.” He tells his cousin. “We met a few out in the wild and it was obvious how much they admire her.”

“She cares very much.” Arya can attest to that, having spent three days exchanging constant emails with you. “If she cares for her work half as much as she cares for you, they are very lucky children.”

He huffs, flushing under the meaning of those words and gives a small shrug. “She cares for them more, most likely. I couldn’t blame her for that.”

“She,” you grin a little at the silliness of referring to yourself by pronouns. “Loves her kids very much. But…not as much as she loves her soulmate.”

His own grin is just as sappy, and he preens just a little. “Good to know.” He chirps and rocks proudly in his chair.

“It is hard to believe it has only been three months.” When Arya sits back in her seat, she smiles softly and rolls her water glass in her hand like an unconscious movement. “But then, some soulmates bond after three hours. It can never be predicted.”

“Our relationship was rocky at the beginning.” He tells her, lacing his fingers through yours. “My fault.” He’ll claim the blame for that. Apparently, the American celebrity news doesn’t reach over here and he doesn’t want them to think badly of you.

“I wasn’t exactly an angel.” That’s about the understatement of the year, but you don’t want his family to hate you. Today works the best if you both come out of it smiling. “But we’re glad to be where we are now. Even if we are both a little stubborn.”

Arya grins, lifting a brow at how the two of you are protecting each other. “I think that the more alike people are, the more they clash.” She tilts her head and snickers. “Although ‘Fuck you, Bravo!’ was an amazing first meeting.”

“Oh god…” You groan, leaning into Dieter’s side and burying your face in his arm. “I was so hoping you hadn’t seen it!”

Arya laughs and reaches out to touch your arm. “Don’t be embarrassed.” She urges you. “Our family is not the type to hold it against you. I swore I would never marry my soulmate if he was the last man on earth.”

“No?” Feeling a step past mortified, you still keep close to Dieter when you look back at her. “On principle?”

Arya laughs and gives a small shrug. “Yes and no.” She tells you. “He infuriated me. Had all these ideas on how soulmate were ‘supposed to be’.” She rolls her eye and grins. “He changed his mind, obviously.”

“I think infuriating and stubborn is how we both would have described each other, early on.” You admit with a rueful grin. “Thankfully, we’re also both a bit more malleable than we thought when it comes to each other.”

“That’s what happens when love creeps up on you.” She smiles again and looks back and forth between you. “You wouldn’t have found his family if you didn’t love him.”

“That’s true.” And thankfully you’re past the point of even attempting to deny your feelings. It would be impossible to do by now anyway, with the way you feel your heart just spilling over at all hours of the day and night. You would have slipped by now. “And I’m so grateful to all of you for being so welcoming.”

“Everyone is looking forward to meeting you.” Arya tells you, standing up and starting to clear the now finished meals. “They have all missed your mother and wondered about her life for years. And to meet her son? It will bring happy tears.”

“Arya!” An older woman’s voice rings from the direction of the bakery’s kitchen. “Où es-tu? Sont-ils ici?” Where are you? Are they here?

“That’s Maman.” Arya smiles, biting back a laugh. “She must have gotten impatient waiting. One minute.” She pats Dieter’s arm gently before disappearing behind the counter and back through another archway. “Arrête de crier! Je suis là.” Stop shouting! I’m here.

Chewing his bottom lip, Dieter clings to your hand a little desperately. “I— do I look okay? I should have worn something nicer.” He frets, suddenly terrified that they won’t accept him. Feeling jittery and honestly craving something medicinal or chemical to calm him down.

“Baby, you look amazing.” You promise him, leaning in to kiss his lips softly. That small act of reassurance being so important. “I know you’re nervous, but they’re so excited to meet you. I promise. I wouldn’t have brought us here if I had any doubts.”

“I didn’t know they existed.” Dieter murmurs. “She never talked about her family. Acted like she was alone.”

“And they didn’t know you existed.” The first emails had been full of the necessary requests for proof, and you had related as much as you could of Dieter’s mother’s story to Arya and her mother, Luisa. “I mean, they knew you existed, they just didn’t know who you were. Are. To them.”

“Jesus.” Both of his hands are cupping yours and he rubs them, trying to soothe himself. Touching you seems to be an important part of that now. “I—why? Were they that bad?” He asks quietly, glancing at the door to make sure Arya doesn’t overhear. “Why else would you deny family?”

“From what Arya could tell me, it sounds like your mom didn’t want to be forced into the family business.” That raises another sigh, since you can’t see how it was worth cutting off her entire family over. “And they…I guess your grandparents objected to her running off with your dad because they weren’t soulmates. But like Arya said…they’ve gotten less strict over the years. After a while all they wanted was for her to come home, but since they didn’t know your dad’s last name, they couldn’t find them.”

Dieter snorts and shakes his head. “Stubborn.” He tosses you a wry look. “And you wonder where I get it from. Apparently it’s a family trait.” He frowns. “I would never be upset. If you— if you wanted to be with someone other than me.” He rolls his eyes. “I mean I would but not because of anything more than I love you now.”

“Don’t be dumb.” Rolling your eyes at him is the best self-defense you have over getting misty-eyed, and after only a few weeks of getting along you’re not really feeling like this (especially right now) is the time or place to push. “I’m not going anywhere. Who else is going to sass me as well as you do?”

“I am really good at it.” He teases, sticking his tongue out of you.

“Very mature.” You snicker, stealing a kiss before more of a ruckus can be heard from the kitchen. “I love you, Dee. You brought me my family by surprise, so I brought you yours.”

“Thank you.” He rushes out before anyone can come out from the back. “No matter how this turns out, thank you.”

“You are…my goodness…” Luisa Müller is a strong, lean woman with all of her softness contained in her round face. Bright eyes and chubby cheeks add animation to a bright smile and wild, white hair. “Welcome home, mon caneton.” The tears in Luisa’s eyes are the truest kind of happy, born of such exhaustive relief that she looks like she could break right down and sob as easily as breathe. But that’s not the kind of woman she is. She’s far too exuberant for that, so it is open arms and the offer of tight hugs instead. The welcome she would give to any member of her family.

Standing when they walked into the room helped him not be smothered in the woman’s, his aunt’s, arms. “Hi.” He swallows down the urge to shed some tears, trying to keep it together and act like a grown ass man instead of the little boy who wondered why he had no family when doing a family tree project in school.

“Look at you.” She cups both of his cheeks in her hands and smiles, absolutely lit up from the inside to be able to have her nephew in front of her after not knowing that he even existed for so many decades. “Grown up and a man already. I wonder if you have any idea how glad we are that your girlfriend found us.”

“I don’t.” He admits, although he’s starting to get an idea. Grinning at the way she is pinching his cheeks as if he were a small boy. “Mon caneton?” He asks, raising a brow since he is taller than she is.

“My duckling.” Arya chuckles, coming back into the room with several pastry boxes in her arms. “Maman used to call us little ducklings in a row when we were growing up. I suppose there are three of us now.”

Luisa nods, tears spilling over in her eyes. “My daughter, my son, and my nephew,” she confirms, pulling Dieter into another tight hug.

“There—there were four.” Dieter clears his throat and pulls back. “You would have loved my twin sister. She was the good one.” He jokes weakly, pulling his phone out of his pocket and opening it to the pictures he kept of her there. They went from phone to phone, always. He turns it around to show his aunt. “Danica.”

“Mm.” Luisa nods solemnly, examining the photo on his phone with a soft expression. “It was a car accident, yes?” She clucks her tongue and rubs Dieter’s arm gently. “I am so sorry, mon caneton. If it does not hurt too much to talk about her, we would love to hear your stories tonight.”

He nods. “It’s hard, but that’s just a testimony to how wonderful she was, right?” He asks, looking over at you. “Besides, my soulmate hasn’t even heard the stories. It will be good to talk.”

“Good then.” With one more squeeze, Luisa lets him go and transfers all of her hugging power to you instead for a quick but tight embrace. “Let us go home then. You can see the house where your mother and I grew up, and meet the rest of the family?”

“Sure.” He nods and wipes his hands on his pants before reaching for you again. “Whatever is best.”

Deciding it’s best if you follow them to the house, you and Dieter head back out to the rental car while Arya locks up the bakery and her mother packs up the pastry boxes in her own little Citron. “How are you feeling, love?” You give his hand a squeeze once you’re both in the car.

“I don’t know.” Dieter tells you honestly. “It— I mean I talked about it— but I’m shocked.” He lets out a loud breath of air. “I have family here.”

“And not just a little one.” Sitting back in the passenger seat, you offer him a slightly lopsided but encouraging smile. “There’s no rule that says you have to spend every single holiday with them now, or anything like that. But you deserved to know they exist. And that they love you.”

“Seriously,” Dieter looks over at you again. “Thank you. I don’t know if I ever would have had the courage to look up my mother’s family and I would have missed out.”

“I—” Shrugging slightly, you can feel the way your cheeks burn as the admission. “I’d do anything for you.” As quickly as you fell, this seems to be where you heart belonged all along. Whether or not it’s because you’re soulmates, you don’t know. But you know you would go through hell or high water for this man without batting an eyelash. “That’s all there is to it.”

“I love you.” It’s so much more than just love, but he can’t articulate it better than that.

******

The drive to the home where his mother had grown up didn’t take long, just a few blocks from the business that was the preverbal straw that broke the camel’s back in terms of her cutting them off and denying Dieter any knowledge of them growing up. He wonders how different life would have been if he had known them, summers in Switzerland when he and Dani were out of school. When the car stops, he bites his lip, looking at you and not the house. “Here we go.”

“I’m with you.” The promise is made as seriously as possible, and you lean over the console to kiss him before getting out of the car. “If you get overwhelmed and need to go back to the hotel, just say the word. Okay?”

“I appreciate that.” He murmurs softly before the two of you climb out of the car. Again, his fingers lace with yours when you come around the side and he feels better, nervous and excited all at once.

There are two men a little older than you in the front yard when you get out of the car, one who looks remarkably like Arya and one who embraces her in the gravel driveway up to the large stone farmhouse. The village is beautiful now, but it must have been stunning when it was all farmland as far as the eye could see. Beautiful orchards and fields of ripe crops and well-cared for animals instead of streets and cars between houses. It’s easy to visualize, even when the reality of the modern village is right in front of you.

“Dieter!” Arya waves the two of you over as she stands between the two men – one giant with curly brown hair that she introduces as her husband Leo, and the other with lighter hair and her very same eyes, that she introduces as her brother Theo.

“How’s it going?” Dieter introduces you, lifting your hand up where they are joined. “Thank you for having us.”

Theo apparently lives very much in the same vein as his mother, because when he steps forward to greet both of you, you and Dieter find yourselves fully enveloped in a bone crushing bear hug. “You’re here!” He hiccups, obviously overjoyed at the fact. “Cousin, you are all we’ve talked about for days. Come inside! Even the boys are excited and they are teenagers…what is the word?” He laughs jovially. “Sullen. That is it. But not today.”

From the time that his abuela died until he found the fame that he craved, Dieter can’t remember a time when people were overjoyed to see him. His hand drops from yours and he squeezes the larger man back. “I’m— it’s good to be here.” He chokes out.

“Mémere has guilt,” he admits softly, like it’s something that he was warned against mentioning, but he feels Dieter has the right to know. “If she had known how to find you, you should have been sick of us by now.” Theo tells him with a conspiratorial grin.

“She doesn’t need to be guilty.” Dieter knows that for certain. “My mother didn’t even let us know we were half Swiss until we discovered her passport.”

“She will always feel a little guilty.” Arya waves it off like it’s nothing to worry about and reaches for his hand to whisk him inside. “Today is not to be sad, cousin. This is a joyful occasion. It is love.” She laughs, inhaling the deep scents of long-cooked secret recipes creeping through the walls of her home. “And we say love with food.”

Dieter snorts and shakes his head. “That’s not a trait carried down.” He jokes. “I can burn water.” His cooking is bad and he owns up to it. Hell, he never really remembered his mom cooking anything that didn’t come from a can or a box.

“Some things skip a generation.” Luisa offers, smiling as Dieter is pulled into the house with you trailing behind, admiring the stonework.

His eyes are darting everywhere, trying to take in the sight. Generations live here, history that is a part of him, makes him up even if he hadn't been aware of it. He wipes his hands again, wondering if he is going to be hugged again by his grandparents. He wouldn't mind it, but he doesn't know if that guilt Theo mentioned will prevent it.

“Sont-ils ici?” Are they here? An older woman’s voice comes from deeper in the house, and you reach to squeeze Dieter’s hand gently. Checking in with him as you walk deeper into the house, it’s clear that everyone has turned out to meet their long lost cousin. “Mémé!” Arya flashes a grin in his direction and beckons for you to follow, eventually ending up in the dining room of the old house. “Mémé, we’re home.”

Dieter takes a deep breath, confronted by the biggest case of pre-performance jitters he’s had in a long time. This matters, more than any roles he’s played.

The woman sitting at the kitchen table with coffee and a deck of cards in front of her is the obvious older version of Dieter’s mother. It’s like Irene Bravo was simply a clone of her mother – running twenty-five years behind – and there is the woman herself standing up to embrace him with tears in her eyes. “You are here,” she breathes, as though the air pushing out of her tall frame with the exclamation is all the breeze that has ever existed in the world. It’s a rush, but at the same time so very comforting. “And you—you look just like your father.” With both of his cheeks in her hands, Dieter’s grandmother pinches them in unison and smiles. “Welcome home, Dieter.”

“I— I don’t know what to call you.” Dieter blurts out and looks horrified for a moment. That was the first thing that came to his mind? “I mean— I— it’s amazing to meet you.”

She chuckles at first, then it becomes an all-out laugh as she pats his shoulder gently. “Begin with Valentina, until you are comfortable with Mémé,” she tells him. “Do you prefer I call you something else?”

“Dieter’s fine, or Dee.” He feels better since he made her laugh and searches her face, seeing so much of his mother in the statuesque woman. “You look like my mother, but you don’t. If that makes sense?”

“I will show you pictures of myself and Irene as young women.” She leans in conspiratorially, barely shorter than him and certainly not lacking for energy. “Your mother was nearly my twin. But age changes us all in different ways.”

Dieter nods. “It does.” He is certainly different than he was when he was younger. “I would like to see that. She— she didn’t share much with us.” He says tactfully. His mother shared nothing, leaving Danica and Dieter to feel as if they were alone in the world after their abuela died and their father left.

“Is she—” Valentina looks slightly sad, her eyes moving between you and Dieter for a moment. “Has she passed?” Having had no word from her daughter in more than forty years, she had had to teach herself to think of her that way. It was how she learned to let go of her anger.

“No.” Dieter shakes his head. “She’s still alive. At least, the last I heard; she was still alive.” Sighing softly, he decides honestly it the best option. “We are not close.”

“I see.” If it surprises the elderly woman at all, she doesn’t let on. “More is the pity for her, then. We are going to have a good time tonight. Eat, drink, tell stories, tease each other.” The last is directed at you with a wink. “Your soulmate was clever to find us, and now you both have more home.”

“That…sounds perfect.” Dieter chokes out, feeling like he’s actually got a family for the first time since he lost Danica. It feels perfect. His hand reaches behind him and finds yours, squeezing gently. It’s all because of you and he’s so fucking grateful.

******

The kids have all slunk away by the time the photo boxes come out after dinner, off to play video games or watch movies until they fall asleep like some of the other adults have done – saying their good nights with kisses on cheeks and tight hugs with excuses about early work times. Valentina, Luisa, and Arya sit with you and Dieter at the big dining table with the last remnants of pastries and seemingly endless glasses of wine alongside a shoebox of family photographs and memories. “This one should be yours, if you want it.” Valentina murmurs, pulling out a crisp photograph many decades old. The street corner is easily recognizable as being right outside the family bakery, but the two people in the picture look like distant memories. Irene et Carlos reads the back, in Valentina’s looping cursive. 16 Mai 1979

“Wow.” Dieter can’t believe how young she looks. He frowns slightly. “Did she— why did she leave?” He asks softly. “I don’t understand.”

“She was in love.” Valentina sighs in that way only mothers can have when speaking off their daughters. “And we did not think that she was old enough to decide the rest of her life yet. But Irene was stubborn…” She touches the image of her daughter’s face gently. “Your grandfather and I did not approve. They were not soulmates, and they were too young to know what kind of world they would be facing. And she…she took our disapproval as a challenge, I think.”

Dieter snorts and rolls his eyes. “That sounds familiar.” He comments sarcastically. “Always knew where I got it from.”

“Unfortunately, in those days it was much harder to find people who had been lost.” Valentina takes another photo from the box: Irene and Carlos again, marked as taken a few days later. In this one they are sitting on a stone wall with a bottle of wine and two glasses beside them, curled into each other’s arms. “They did love each other very much. No one could deny it. But we…we tried too hard to protect them, and it ended up making problems worse.” She looks at Dieter with absolute softness, offering him this photo as well. “And for that, I am sorry.”

“You couldn’t have done anything.” Dieter gives a small shrug. “I don’t know what happened, but by the time we were younger, three or four, it was burned out.”

“Young love burns brighter, but faster.” His grandmother murmurs, looking between the two of you. “Be glad you found each other after you had already grown the heads on your shoulders.”

“I don’t think that I’ve done that yet.” Dieter jokes, although he understands what his grandmother is trying to say. “I can show you some picture of her. If you want.” He doesn’t have many of his mother, but he does keep a few in his phone.

“You have some?” That brings Valentina’s features to life all over again, and she shifts closer to the table in her chair to peer across the way.

“Yeah.” Dieter fumbles with his password and brings up his photo albums. One assistant had been tasked with digitizing all his old photos one year. He had been wanting photos of Danica, but had done them all. When the depression of having no one would kick in, he organized them. He pulls up the one for his mother. It even includes the rare photos she would text him. She is his mother – even if he doesn’t like the way she treats him.

“Will you…” Fingers carefully brushing the sides of his phone so as not to touch the photo on screen, Valentin glances back up at Dieter carefully. “Will you tell her you saw us? I cannot blame you if you wished not to say anything.”

“I am going to tell her.” He had decided that around the time that dessert was served. Despite whatever her feud with her family was, he had no part of that, and he wouldn’t be ashamed of getting to know people he had wanted to know his entire life. “I can…pass along a number. If you want.”

“Would you mind if I sent a letter with you?” She asks instead, obviously having thought it over far before now. “If she chooses not to answer me, that is up to her.”

Dieter nods. “My birthday is coming up soon.” He tells her. “I always hear from her then.” He doesn’t tell his grandmother that it’s to beg or harass him for money. Or like the one disastrous year she had gotten plastered and told him that she wished he had died instead of Danica – after he had told her he wasn’t sending her money.

“It must be hard,” she observes. “Missing your sister? I—I lost my twin some twenty years ago. It weighs on the heart.”

“You had a twin!?” Dieter practically gasps it out in surprise. He had never known anything other than what his abuela said about cousins being twins but nothing else that she knew of. He had always assumed it came from his dad’s side.

“Mm.” The way she smiles is full of nostalgia and fondness. A happy light inside something that could easily be only sadness. “My sister and I were identical. Ten minutes apart, and I never let her forget that she was the old lady.” Everyone at the table laughs. “Josephine and myself, you and your Danica, and Arya’s two boys. You have lots of twins in your family.”

“Apparently.” He can’t help but look at you and smirk. “You’re warned.” Children are nowhere near anything that’s been discussed but he can’t help but tease.

“Oh god.” You cringe at him, but it’s playful and for show. Family planning isn’t exactly a conversation you’ve had and you’re not going to have it for the first time in front of his extended family. “You’re going to be sooooo nice to me if that happens, I swear.”

He scoffs, but can’t help but grin. Old Dieter would have panicked and offered to pay for an abortion for a non-existent baby, but he’s surprisingly not worried. Maybe because of that little word again. The one he loves getting to say to you.

The joke, however, has opened the floodgates, and his aunt Luisa nearly squeals. “Oh, you would have beautiful children!”

“The world is not ready for more Bravos.” Dieter jokes. “Need to be sober a little while longer for that.”

“One day.” Luisa grins unrepentantly. “A beautiful wedding and beautiful babies.”

“Maman, leave them alone,” Arya chides, shooting you both an apologetic expression. “She is obsessed with babies, ignore her.”

Dieter chuckles slightly and gives a small shrug. “Most older people are, I’ve found.”

“Older.” Luisa huffs, but it’s good-natured and she has enough self-awareness to laugh at herself. “It won’t be long before you are older too.”

“Oh, he’s already there.” You can’t help but join in the teasing, knowing that the age gap between you and Dieter is just large enough to be make him pout. And you’re one hundred percent willing to admit that he’s cute when he pouts. “I mean, I’m the youngest at the table, so he’s already an old man to me.”

His pout is immediate, and if it weren’t for the fact that his grandmother was sitting at the table, he would remind you how you hadn’t minded him being older when you were screaming his name earlier. Instead he just huffs, blowing a raspberry at you. “Old man.” He grumps.

“My old man.” Under the table, your hand finds his leg to brush your thumb over his thigh to make sure he knows you’re only teasing. You couldn’t give less of a shit about the age gap except to be glad that you had met when you were both adults – like Valentina said.

Slightly mollified, Dieter captures your hand and winks at you. “I mean, I guess.” He huffs. “Only because you wore me down. Chased me, this one did.” He jokes, grinning at you playfully.

“Oh yeah.” You can’t even nod with a straight face, and Arya cracks a wide grin on your other side. She knows the entire story, of course, having seen it unfold in the press. You were glad to be able to tell her the real development and give her a glimpse of the real man her cousin is. “An absolute groupie. That’s me,” you droll sarcastically.

He snickers and nods. “Yep. Total fan. Nearly passed out when she met me.” He finally can’t hold back the laugh and shakes his head, leaning in to kiss your cheek. “No, but I did manage to clip your claws.”

“Sometimes love wears masks.” Valentina offers, rather enigmatically. “We just have to know when to lift them.”

“Very true.” Dieter acknowledges. Leaning back, he smiles at the older woman. “How did you meet your soulmate?”

“Walking into his bakery.” The elderly woman blushes slightly and reaches for her glass of wine as she shuffles through the box of photos. Dieter’s grandfather had gone to bed an hour ago after a lengthy good night. “Everyone struggled after the war, and I had saved my coins to buy just a little tart for Josephine and myself. It was our birthday the next day.” When she laughs it shakes right through her, and she grins at the photo of two identical teenage girls in simple dresses with immaculate makeup and hair so blonde that it looks white in the old photo. “Yves was a snobby little boy, and he didn’t want to serve me because I didn’t look rich, but his mother boxed his ears and gave me the tart for half the price to apologize.” Laughter erupts around the table, Luisa and Arya nodding along with the story they’ve heard countless times before. “He was so rude! I was very annoyed to find out we were soulmates. But he—how did you say it? Clipped my claws. And I clipped his.”

“So it’s a family legacy to have difficult soulmates.” Dieter grins at the joke and looks over at you with affection. “Did it make the clipping even sweeter?” He asks. “I swear when she opened up and I stopped being stubborn, it was just…magic.”

“It became a thing to tease about.” Valentina chuckles, reaching over to pat your hand affectionately when she sees the sheepish expression on your face. “He has his snobbish moments still and I am still sometimes too much — what is the term in English? Advocate for the Devil? But it is just who we are, and to love a person with flaws is far more honest than to pretend they are perfect.”

“She’s a saint for putting up with me.” Dieter is teasing you, but he doesn’t want them to think that you are a bad person. You are fantastic. “Honestly…the only reason I’ve stayed sober as long as I have is because of her.” He admits softly.

Your fingers lace through his, holding his hand tightly in your own and trying not to look too choked up. As far as you understood, his sobriety was entirely down to Libby and this film. It was a thing he had been forced into and even though he had been clear about wanting to continue it on his own, you had no idea that he attributed any of his success with the struggle to you. The ketamine incident has given you some uncomfortable ptsd issues, but he had never let a nightmare pass without making sure you were calm and safe back in his arms when you went back to sleep. “I just want to support you,” you murmur quietly, knowing the whole table is listening. But that’s really what it comes down to for you. Love and support go hand in hand.

“Thank you.” He whispers and Valentina looks on with pride. “You communicate very well.” She compliments, beaming at both of you. “You will do well.”

The impulse to snort at that has to be smothered immediately, because it was simply not the case not so long ago. “We try very hard,” you tell his grandmother instead, because that is the absolute truth. “But he’s worth the work.”

Dieter flushes deeply, always amazed when you say things like that out loud and to other people. The pride in being his soulmate is such a dizzying pleasure that he can’t help but get flustered.

“Still not used to her saying such things?” Arya guesses, her expression as soft as it is teasing.

“No.” He easily admits. “It’s been a very long time since someone actually cared enough to do more than kiss my ass or flatter me to get what they wanted from me.”

“Good you have her, mon caneton.” Luisa nods with absolute authority. “To temper all the bullshit in the world.”

“Maman!” Arya seems shocked to hear a little bit of colorful language from her mother, but it only makes Valentina laugh.

“Ass kissing is not going to change the world, mon coeur,” she says to her granddaughter. “But love might.”

Dieter can’t help but laugh, thinking that he might be more like his grandmother and aunt than he realizes. “It’s okay cousin.” He grins. “I tend to make people curse around me.”

“It’s true,” you smother your own laughter but have to admit it’s a fact. “But it’s a little less these days. He’s behaving himself at work.”

“It’s difficult.” He pouts.

“You say that.” A gentle poke in his side comes with a grin. “But your hair and makeup artists love you.”

“They make me look good.” He rolls his eyes like it’s the obvious answer. “Of course I’m nice to them.”

“Priorities.” Luisa agrees, pointing one finger in the air but with a bit of that soft pride known almost exclusively to aunts. “Not that they have much work to do with you, mon caneton.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Dieter huffs, unable to take a compliment from family too, apparently.

“I have embarrassed you.” Apparently that only amuses Luisa more. “It is my job. Privilege of the aunt. And I have much time to make up for now that you are here.”

“Great.” Dieter chuckles and shakes his head. “Family.” The tone is accepting and amused.

******

It’s a few more hours before you stand from the table to say good night, and another half hour after that that you’re actually getting into the rental car with a parcel of pastries, a small collection of photographs, and a letter from Dieter’s grandmother to his mother. It’s late but the drive back to the hotel won’t be long, and every second that you stayed in Satigny Village today has been immensely worthwhile.

Dieter is quiet on the way back to the hotel. Contemplating everything he learned and absorbing the information and savoring the fact that he has family. You've come to understand his silence a little bit better in the last few weeks. It isn't disdainful or arrogant - it's contemplative. Or else it's a blank space for him to exist in while he processes the things going on around him. Tonight he has an exceptional amount to process, and you don't want him to feel poked or prodded. So you hold his hand while he drives, eventually pulling the car into its space at the hotel and cutting the engine. "You okay in there, love?" You ask quietly, not wanting to presume one way or the other.

Shaking himself out of his wandering mind, he looks over at you. “Yeah.” He nods, meaning it. “I am. It’s – it’s strange because I thought I would be upset that they didn’t know about us. Or that it was a fear that they didn’t care to. But I just felt like I was home.”

"Do you think you might go back for one more dinner before you come back to LA?" His grandmother had offered, telling him to consider the bakery and the house to be open to him any time he wanted to visit and never feel odd about arriving unannounced, but you didn't know if he would take her up on it. It's what you hope for him, obviously, but you would also understand if it was overwhelming somehow.

“I – I think I might invite them to the hotel for dinner.” Dieter chuckles and shakes his head. “The dining room might actually see a dinner party.”

"It would be good to use it for more people than just us." Nudging him slightly, you climb out of the car and retrieve the things his family sent home with him from the backseat. More than anything, you're just glad to see him smiling about the whole thing. His family loved meeting him. It would have been a shame if they hadn't gotten along, but the whole day was wonderful.

“Have to make sure that they wipe down the table though.” He smirks and waggles his eyebrows at you. “Since we did defile it.”

"We've defiled every inch of that suite." You can't deny that, only laugh a little as the two of you wander toward the elevator that will take you up into the hotel. "Honestly they should just sterilize the whole thing after you check out."

“I’m sure they do.” He chuckles and gives you a shrug. “Although it’s normally for other reasons than sex.”

"Well, it should definitely be because of sex this time." Pushing the button for your floor, you readjust the boxes under your arm and stretch up to kiss his cheek. "I, um...I'm glad you liked your surprise, love."

“I did.” Dieter turns and presses his lips to yours. “It’s amazing. You must have been searching forever.”

"It took a little digging, but considering the business they were easy to contact once I had actually found them." It's starting to really set in that you're leaving in the morning, and you grasp at more kisses like they're a lifeline. "It was worth every second of searching."

“It’s amazing and I don’t know if I can ever give you something as meaningful.” Dieter knows you don’t want anything in return. He’s just overwhelmed that you went to such trouble for him.

"Well try as I might, I'm never going to be able to top the birthday you gave me when yours rolls around in two months, so I thought hey, why not find his long-lost family instead." Grinning, you know he can tell that you're teasing, but it actually is where the thought had begun. And once the thought was in your head, it completely consumed you. "Really, I...I know it's not really the kind of thing people say out loud but...but I just want you to be happy."

“I fucking love you.” He laughs, shaking his head and kissing you again.

Never able to let things be serious for too long, you shoot him a wink as the elevator doors open. "And I love fucking you."

He trails after you, watching your ass as you walk down the hall towards the hotel suite. His heart flips and hammers in his chest despite the cheeky comment. “You’re going to be fucking me as soon as we get in the room.” He promises.

“There he is.” No matter how emotional or serious the moment, Dieter’s sexual appetite is always just below the surface, and tonight you’re actually a little grateful for it. You’re going to miss him like hell for the next week and don’t want to waste a second of the time you have left together. Pushing into the suite, you deposit the things from his family on the nearest side table and drop your purse beside them. “Got something particular in mind, babe?”

His attitude changes in a heartbeat, moving over to you and wrapping his hand around your waist to tug you closer. “I want to strip you down.” He murmurs huskily. “Take my time.” It’s rare that it’s not fast and frantic and he doesn’t want that right now. He wants to see how long he can make you wait to cum while giving you as much pleasure as possible.

Even having said the words, you wouldn’t characterize well - any - of the sex you’ve had as lovemaking thus far. And you’re not going to presume that it’s what he has in mind now, either. But slow is definitely out of the ordinary for the two of you and you aren’t going to deny him. If you could safely sleep with him inside you tonight you absolutely would. Fuck you really need to get on birth control… “Where?” Your voice is a little breathless, but you don’t particularly care. He’s heard every version of pleasure and anticipation from you at this point, there’s no shame or embarrassment in it.

He would say right here, but it doesn’t seem right. “The bedroom.” He takes your hand and tangles his fingers through yours and tugs you closer as he turns and starts to walk to the room that the two of you have shared for the last three weeks.

"Seems positively romantic." Just because the mood has changed a little doesn't mean you don't still have a teasing streak a mile wide that you know for a fact he enjoys.

“Cheeky little shit.” Dieter chuckles and when you are in the bedroom, he turns suddenly and backs you up against the wall next to the door. “We’ll see how long that lasts baby.” He murmurs against your lips.

"Me being cheeky, or you being romantic?" You know he's talking about your teasing, but it's too much fun to play with him. The twist of a grin against his lips makes him nip at you and you shiver a little in anticipation.

His hands and sure and steady, slower than they’ve ever been as he starts to strip you down. Lovingly caressing every inch of your skin while he kisses your lips. It’s as close to worship as he has ever come.

Normally your shirt and bra would be tossed aside in a matter of seconds and your pants peeled away with greedy enthusiasm. Normally, the two of you waste no time at all. Tonight it's like he's trying to memorize you instead of consume you, making the memories you're going to hold onto for the next week while you mope over how big and empty your bed is without him beside you. The trail of sucking kisses and bites down your neck will be gone by the time school starts but with the way he's pressing them into your skin, you know you'll remember exactly where he placed them every time your skin tingles as you think of him. If this is what people call that magical, mystical soulmate connection? You're borderline furious with yourself for denying it for so long. You could have had so many more years of this.

Slowly he pulls you away from the wall, guiding you back toward the bed. Drunk on you, hell – he’s high off the taste of you. The soft sigh of your pleasure when he kisses those little spots on your skin that make you shiver. “I love you.” The words are breathed into you, both a praise and a promise. One that he’s eager to repeat over and over again as he lays you out on the bed.

"I love you." It seems like the words took forever to happen and yet it really was only a few weeks. Compared to other soulmates, though, that is a snail's pace. But that doesn't stop you from gasping his name softly into the dark night, or discourage you from digging your fingers into his thick hair as he explores your body for was seems like the millionth time.

His lips want to map your body. To memorize it and make you feel the most pleasure that he can. With you, he can do anything. More in control than he’s probably ever been with a partner, and yet, it’s submissive. He’s serving you. Treating you like the goddess you are.

"Dee..." Squirming under him and arching your back to keep him as closes as possible, the way you gasp when he sucks one nipple into his mouth and laves it with his tongue is absolutely wanton. "Oh my--fuck, baby." He hums against your skin, slowly sliding his hands over your hip and thighs. Not pulling away even though he smirks at you.

"Oh, that's how it's going to be tonight?" Even though his eyes are dark with lust, they're sparkling at you with mischief as well. You twist slightly under him to grasp at the tented front of his jeans, squeezing his cock just right to make him moan.

Dieter groans, throbbing in your hand and rolling his hips up. Now his fingers move to your folds, sliding through them and up into you, curling when they are buried to the knuckle.

There's no hope of being coordinated enough to undress him while he's fingering you, but your fingers run along the outline of his hard on eagerly, squeezing every so often as your hips grind down on his hand and you sigh out in pleasure. Everything always gets fuzzy around the edges with his fingers pressing against your G-spot and it's the kind of pleasure that can make the whole rest of the world temporarily disappear. He keeps his fingers working, pumping in and out of you while he sucks and bites on your tits. Wanting you to fall over the edge in bliss.

It doesn’t take long. Of course it doesn’t. Dieter learned your body like he learns his scripts – the important parts committed to memory promptly and the rest as sort of an interpretive symphony that he plays however he likes. He learned what you like and don’t like nearly instantly and has turned finessing your orgasms into his own private concert – where his name, curses, and praises are the only lyrics.

His lips are on yours when you bear down around his fingers. A sob of his name breathed into his mouth like a quenching drink. Absorbed and swallowed down while he hums his happiness, fingers drenched in your essence.

“Jesus—” When you can breathe again it’s like the first breath taken after drowning, and you cling to him much tighter than you would normally. “Pants, Dee. Fuck. Get rid of em, baby, please.”

He chuckles and nods, happy that you are so needy. You sound drunk and he loves it. “Yes ma’am.” Pulling away from you is hard, but it will be worth it when you are under him again.

The fact that you both pout when he pulls away is proof of how you’re so distinctly on the same page right now, but when he lowers himself back over you, you nearly whimper. There’s a softness here that you never even knew you wanted, but it’s absolutely perfect.

Normally, Dieter is frantic to get inside you. Not now. Right now he’s too busy kissing you. Slowly rubbing his body against yours as if he’s making love to you but the condom still isn’t on, and he’s not slipped inside you. His cock leaks against your soft skin, but he doesn’t try to speed things up.

“Love you.” Panting into his kiss, there are about a hundred things you find yourself wanting to say right now but none of them are staying long enough in the front of your mind to make it out of your mouth. How you’re going to miss him, how you wish you didn’t have to leave, how you want to just say fuck everything and stay until you can come home together. How you wish he could keep coming home to you every night like he has here. How you would do nearly anything to stay at his side. But that’s the impending loneliness setting in and you can’t trust yourself to say anything but murmured “I love you”s in the dark. Anything else might be disastrous.

Dieter is completely blissed out. Every nerve on fire as he slowly grinds against you. “I love you.” He purrs into your ear. “So fucking much.”

“So fucking much.” The natural echo between you is half breath, and you almost wonder how he can even hear you except that the only sound in the room at all is your labored breathing and needy promises punctuated by the occasional creak of the mattress. Your legs wrap around his waist, keeping him close and making it easier to rolls your hips against his, half wishing he would stop torturing you with teasing and half hoping it never ends.

“You think you can cum like this for me, beautiful?” He breathes into your ear, loving the way you feel against the underside of his cock.

“Fuck.” Basically humping like horny teenagers isn’t want you expected from him tonight but it’s just like he’s got a list of ways he wants to make you cum in his head and is checking them off one by one – and who the fuck are you to deny him that? “Anything for you, baby.”

He keeps his hips steadily moving, rubbing against your clit and teasing your soaking wet entrance with his cock. Kissing you all the while. “Feel so good.” He whispers.

It feels unbelievable. For something so simple, it's so much better than any other time you've rubbed your own clit with your fingers or even when the pads of Dieter's fingers are slick with your cum and he's trying to drag one more orgasm out of you before you both collapse. The velvety feeling of his hard cock slipping rhythmically over your oversensitive clit is a slow build but a powerful one, until your heavy panting and whimpering become swallowed gasps and cries of pleasure as your legs tighten around his waist and begin to shake with the surprising force of cumming a second time.

“God.” Dieter groans and braces his shaky arms over you. Trying not to cum before he fucking slides inside you. But it’s so tempting, especially when you are clinging to him and crying out his name. Instead, he focuses on you. Kissing along your jaw and slowing his hips down so you can ride out your orgasm before he starts making love to you.

"I know." You half-laugh, letting your labored breathing slowly come back to normal as you drown yourself in even more kisses. Truly you'll never be able to get enough from him – he's become your own addiction, one that seems to be insatiable and elating in equal measure. "And you're not even inside me yet."

“Gotta get a condom on.” He kisses you again and curses himself for not getting one out, hating to move away from you. “We shoulda bought stock in the condom company.” He jokes as he leans over and grabs the package off the nightstand.

"I'm gonna call my doc and get an IUD when I get back." It had been something you decided on maybe a week ago but had just stored the thought away for later, eventually forgetting to mention it to him.

“Only if you want to.” Dieter doesn’t mind condoms. “Those IUD things, can’t they mess with your - you know? Woman parts?” He gestures to his own stomach where a uterus would be if he had one.

"Any kind of birth control has side effects." He's sweet to worry, and you rub your thumb across his thigh in a soft gesture of affection. "My doc might suggest the pill or the shot instead, and that's fine. I just..." you shrug a little, almost feeling embarrassed about it. "I want to be able to feel you, not the barrier."

“I’m never going to say no to that.” Dieter grins. “I just don’t want you to think I’m pushing you to get on something you don’t want to be on.”

"It's my decision." And one you've made happily. The last three weeks have given you a glimpse into something wonderful and this is a step you want to take to make it that much more intimate for the two of you. Without having had any discussions about the future, you don't want to risk a fuck up that will put a strain on your relationship. "But I didn't think you would mind."

For now, he rips open yet another foil packet and quickly rolls down the protection over his cock. It’s stupid but he wants to blurt out that you don’t have to go on birth control. That it would be perfectly fine to just see what happened. But he can’t do that, you are not ready to even consider something like that.

"How do you want me, love?" It's a legitimate question, considering you've tried every position you can possibly think of, but you're fairly certain you know where his head is at tonight. It's just all about intimacy, and you're happy to be able to breathe his name against his lips all night long.

“Just like we were.” He tells you as he pumps his cock. “Is that okay with you?” He wants to make love to you, but he also knows that you should be involved in the decision.

"Of course." You'd give him almost anything he wanted tonight – being able to pour all of your love and pleasure into kissing him while you fuck? That's an easy arrangement. You lay back, spreading your legs wide for him to have a beautiful view of your swollen lips and dripping hole from the two times you've already cum. "I'm all yours."

“Yes you are.” He’s so goddamn proud of that fact. You are his and he just can’t get over that fact. He lowers himself down onto his elbows and settles between your thighs. “Position me.”

"Ooo, are we giving orders tonight?" He rarely does, and it's always playful, but tonight you really didn't expect it. Tonight has been nothing but praise for the both of you. Instead of prodding him, though, you reach down between you and pump his achingly hard cock a few times before notching his head at your entrance with a needy sigh.

He bites his lip, rolling his hips forward a few inches to start breaking you open. Moaning your name loudly and shuddering at how good you feel. If you could commit that sound to permanent, exact memory, you absolutely would. It's one of the best things you've ever heard in your life and you swear you could live on that sound alone if it came down to it. "Feels so fucking good, baby," you gasp out, back arching a little further off the bed with every push of his hips.

Normally right now is the time that Dieter is starting to lose his mind. Forgetting everything but the way he feels when his cock is burying itself just as frantically as he can manage. Right now though, he reaches for your hands, lacing his fingers with yours and pinning them up by your head while he rocks into you purposefully.

With the different tempo comes a different feeling altogether, the slow and steady rhythm of shallow thrusts being more about keeping you connected than your normal game of seeing who can make the other scream louder in pleasure. This is still about pleasure, but the two of you are climbing to that peak together one inch at a time instead of sprinting toward the top. It’s borderline worshipful but you’re not quite sure which one of you is doing the worshipping – the way he cradles and kisses and caresses your body certainly makes you think it’s him, but then you drag your lips and teeth and tongue across every inch of his skin that you can reach with your hands pinned down and your legs hitched high on his waist and know that these moments are as purely adoring as any you’ve spent with him. It’s love, pure and simple, and for the first time you’re willing to admit that you would give up everything to stay like this with him.

“I love you.” Dieter gasps, closing his eyes and pressing his forehead against yours. It’s overwhelming and wonderful and he’s never felt so exposed as he does right now. Except you are looking up at him like he hangs the moon.

"S—so much, baby." Having him buried so deep inside you that the coarse hair at the base of his cock grinds against your swollen clit feels so perfect it almost makes your eyes cross, and you squeeze his hands in yours as your head drops back on the pillow on a moan.

“Want you to give me one more.” He begs, wanting to feel you squeeze him again. Needing that pressure of you cumming around his cock again. You’re leaving soon and he wants to have as many memories as he can for the days that he will be alone.

"Anything." You wrap your legs around his waist, creating a new angle and a new pressure that will hold him tighter inside your body. As deep as he is now, you know neither of you will last too much longer and you whine his name when he bottoms out again. “Fuck — everything. I—I’m so close, baby.”

“Yesssssss.” Dieter hisses, biting your jaw and rocking his hips a little harder, a little faster than before. “Do it.” He demands. “Cum baby. Cum on my cock.”

As if he ever really needs to ask. Your body seems to respond to him more and more as the days go on anyway, seemingly responding to the soulmate bond between you with natural enthusiasm. His pace picks up, pushing you over that last hurtle that has you sobbing his name until you run out of breath. Your entire body bears down on him, pushing the air out of your chest and making you squeeze his hands harder than you think you ever have before.

Nothing beats this moment. Not his first bump of coke, not the moment he realized he was wealthy. Hell, not even winning his Oscar beats the way he feels right now. Your pleasure triggers his own and with a push of his hips, your name tumbles from his lips with a cry and he fills condom as he collapses into you.

“I love you.” You can never say it enough, and this time it’s whispered softly in the quiet night as you wrap your arms around him and wait for your breath to come back.

“I love you too.” Every time he says it, it gets easier and he loves that. He shifts to his slide and brings you with him. Gazing into your eyes with a smile on his face. “Although, I still fully expect to hear ‘fuck you, Bravo!’ when I piss you off.” He teases.

“Well sure.” Brushing sweat damp hair from his forehead, you practically beam at him. “But I find you much more endearing than annoying since I fell in love with you.”

Dieter winks at you. “It’s my charm.” He decides smugly.

“Must be.” You roll your eyes at him but it’s all for show, and the way you’ve snuggled against him in bed is clear evidence of it. With your face buried against his chest, you sigh. “I’m going to miss you…”

Sighing softly, his hands stroke your back. He will have to throw away the condom soon, but he’s not worried about it now. “I’m going to miss you too. But you have to take back all our gifts for Steph and Nora.” He reasons, wanting to give you good things to look forward to.

“It’s gonna be a week of constantly asking when Uncle Deedee is coming home.” Not that you can blame Nora for missing him. You’re basically going to be staring at the calendar for a few days on your own. “I think we might need to have you come over for dinner pretty soon after you get home just so she can see you.”

“I think we can arrange that. Or…” Dieter gives a nonchalant shrug, like it’s just a passing idea. “We could do it at the house. Arrange a sleepover for all of you.”

“Yeah?” When you look up at him he shrugs again, playing it off like it’s a random fancy. “They’ve been visiting a lot. Nora loves the pool. And I…I wouldn’t mind actually waking up in that bed with you.”

“I have plenty of bedrooms.” He hums. “Maybe I can show you the room I use to paint.”

“I’d like that.” The chance to see more of him — the things that really make him, him — sounds like a kind of intimacy completely different from lying in his arms with his softening cock still inside you.

“Then that’s what we’ll do.” Dieter decides, as if it’s the easiest thing in the world. “Maybe I should get one of those play set things. For Nora to play on.”

“Don’t feel like you have to.” Even though she absolutely adores him, and he likes Nora a lot, too, you don’t want him to feel obligated to do any of these things. After all – she’s the only little kid in his life currently. It would be a lot of money to spend on something that would eventually sit in his yard unused just because one little girl liked it at one time.

“It’ll be good.” Dieter doesn’t mention that idea that has been swirling around in his mind. It’s too early. “She’ll love it and it’ll be good to have more than just the pool.”

“She will love it. Every second.” Tipping your head back, you dust a few kisses on his jaw before smothering a yawn.

“We should go to bed.” Dieter is very in tuned with you and he knows you will try to stay awake when you are exhausted because he’s not tired. “Let me.” His hand wedges down between you to hold the condom so you can pull off of him.

“One more night.” It’s more heartbreaking than you want to admit, but if like were kind or logical, you wouldn’t have wasted a decade hating your soulmate for something beyond his control. “I’m acting like it’s a whole-ass military deployment or something and it’s only going to be a week.” Sighing at yourself, you snuggle back into his arms after he’s tossed the condom. “You’ll be back in no time.”

“Since the lawsuit, the studios are trying to kick us off set.” He chuckles. “Apparently holding actors hostage isn’t a good thing.”

“If you do need to stay a little longer, don’t worry about it.” The last thing you want is him pushing himself to get done fast and ending up with an accident on set or being less than proud of his performance. “I’ll still be there waiting for you with open arms when you get back.”

“Nah, this – this project has been a cake walk.” He doesn’t want to say why he thinks that. He honestly thinks that it’s because you’ve been here. But he doesn’t want to push you like that. “The producers are already talking about Best Picture and Best Actor noms.”

“Your second Oscar.” You hum, fully impressed with the idea as the two of you settle in with your head on his chest and his arms around you. “That would be fancy.”

“They could be book ends.” He jokes, wondering where he put his Oscar. He doesn’t exactly remember the last time he held it.

“It’s your house,” you remind him, shrugging slightly in his arms. “Put it whenever you want.”

Humming, he shrugs, close to say that it could be your house too. But it’s too soon. Instead, he kisses your head and sighs. “I better get cleaned up.” He murmurs softly. “Tomorrow will come early.” He has to be back on set before the sun rises.

“I’m going to leave for the airport when you leave for set.” It will put you there hours before your flight, but you don’t really care. You would rather stare at an airport coffeeshop for a little while than sit in the hotel suite without him. You’ve already had your last day on set – a few flowers and a cake from some of the set crew marked the occasion – and you’re already fully packed except for what you’ll wear to fly home in. The most amazing and important vacation of your life is at its end, and you’re going to miss it so much you could cry.

“I can still tell them to fuck off and wait if you want me to go with you?” Dieter is very annoyed that the director scheduled an early call time when he knew you are going home in the morning. Thinking about it being revenge for not spending a few hours on set on your birthday.

“No, it’s okay.” When he gets back in bed the two of you cuddle together again like two halves of a whole. “Shooting will distract you and that’s a good thing. And I promise to text when I board so you know I’m on my way.”

“Okay.” He pouts, but he won’t argue. Instead he’s figuring out ways to get even closer to you without being in your skin, wanting to savor every inch of your body against his. “It won’t be long, and you have school, your life, to get back to.” He doesn’t voice his concerns, that this is just some interlude of life, quickly forgotten.

“You say that like you’re not part of my life now.” Have you explicitly talked about it? Definitely not. But you had hoped that the little plans you are making had made it clear to him that you wanted him with you regardless of what continent you’re on.

“Yeah, I know.” Except…there was only one more official date left on the contract. Then you would be completely free to block him and never see him again. He tells himself that you would never do that, but years of being used for money or publicity makes one doubt that people actually like him for him. He doesn’t voice any of this, instead just clinging to you tighter and burying his face in your neck.

“Get some sleep, baby.” Even with your arm around his waist and your head on his chest – the most comfortable way you’ve ever lain in any bed – you doubt you’ll sleep much tonight. You can sleep on the flight to try to ignore missing him instead of passing up any moment in his arms.

______

Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat​ @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @katheriner1999 @littlemousedroid @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @hardc0rehaylz @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri    

YSV: @tortor-mcgee @hnt-escape​ @sammus-white​ @spanishmossmagnolia  @frasmotic @quietpainter    

My Masterlist!

[micheswife]

Confessions

MICHE ZACHARIAS X SHY CADET

Miche finally tells his crush he likes her. That's it

Miche watched her from Erwin’s office as she left the headquarters to enjoy a well-deserved break. The evening sun highlighted her brunette curls, stopping just below her delicate shoulders. It was a shame really, her hair used to touch her waist when she first joined. She was so incredibly shy and anxious back then, struggling to find her place among younger people that were much stronger than her. He remembered back when she declined the promotion for the sake of her happiness. It had been 3 years since y/n joined the survey corps at the age of 20. She was a late beginner, but her analytical skills, a fateful emotional meltdown and a background in research had soon gotten her a place under section commander Hange. Y/n was not good as a fighter, but she was observant, more than Erwin and Hange. Miche could not help but notice her, she was cute after all. She had flaws, just like everyone else, but the veteran soldier was drawn to her in particular. He couldn’t remember when he felt like that for the first time. Maybe it was when he saw her for the first time, clutching a soiled handwritten application and trying her hardest to put on a brave face. Who knows? Who cares? The important part was that he liked her, she did not know and he was not going to tell.

“What are you looking at Miche? “

“N-nothing, Erwin. Go on…”

Miche went back to focusing on the meeting. y/n had already disappeared in the next lane, so there was no point looking outside. The meeting would go on for hours, as usual, veterans had no holidays.

Meanwhile, y/n made herself comfortable near the quiet riverbank. It was one of the few attractions in the little land of Paradis, especially after the fall of Wall Maria. The serene river glowed red under the now darkening sun rays. Y/n had about 30 minutes to draw something, after which it would get too dark. Problem was, y/n had no idea what to draw. So she just sat there, wondering about her life. It seemed self-indulgent to refuse work only to get out and ponder about herself, but she needed it. The chaos inside the headquarters hardly did her any good. She wanted quiet and peace, but what she had right now was just pure loneliness. Y/n had friends, but nobody close or free enough to sit under the open night sky. So she sat all alone over the wall, the cold breeze ruffling her hair. If only there were someone to hold her.

“Bottomline, all of you must prepare your squads for next month’s expedition. We can’t afford to compromise manpower. Pay attention to the weak members, we need them to come back alive. You all are dismissed.”

Miche walked out of Erwin’s office and went straight to his room that he shared with Dieter, another squad leader. He felt tired, as though he knew what was about to come. A lot of action and a shit ton of casualties, not to forget all the rigorous training he was about to deliver on the cadets.

“What a long day..”

“Tomorrow’s going to be longer, Ness.”

“Yeah.”

“Do you think you will make it through the expedition?”

Miche scrunched his nose at the odd yet totally reasonable question. Him and Dieter served the scout regiment since their teenage years, yet they never quite got used to the anxiety before impending doom. Against his overbearing stress, Miche gave him a positive answer hoping to lift his spirits.

“I will make it out alive, Ness. The most damage I will end up with is a lost limb, after which I will retire and live a peaceful life. Don’t worry.” Miche finished with his signature scoff, masking his true emotions. The shameless, pretentious display of cockiness was all worth the little chuckle from Ness, the most sociable, tender man among veterans.

They made their way to the dining hall after chit chatting and freshening up. Their tables had the usual serving of bread, soup and vegetables. His eyes scanned the place for the owner of those beautiful, crazy curls, y/n, she should have been back by now. He couldn’t see her anywhere. Usually it was so easy to spot her in her corner seat. Perhaps Hange assigned her some work, but he couldn’t risk revealing his crush by asking the overly-energetic squad leader. So he quietly finished his plate, feeling just a little hint of emptiness because he missed y/n.

“Nifa, find y/n and tell her I want her in the lab tomorrow at 6am sharp.” Mike overheard Hange speaking from a couple of tables away.

“Yes captain.” Nifa quickly finished her meal and left the dining hall and eventually the headquarters. Her face made it clear that she had done this several times now and Miche was not surprised. Y/n was often in her own head and stayed out for a long time. Miche just found it unusual for her to stay out this late. It was cold outside, no person in their right mind would stay out past 8pm. He wished he knew what was going on inside the girl’s head that made her personality so withdrawn, but he did not have the time. He needed to draft a schedule for this week’s training and tests for the cadets. Just the thought of sitting in an office doing paperwork with a candlelight flickering throughout the night made him feel calm. He was extremely skilled on the field, but he liked doing paperwork too. His studious side was something only his immediate squad and other veterans were familiar with. Sometimes he couldn’t help fantasizing about sharing his study with y/n. Aside from his feelings, y/n had the brains to draft a perfect test that tapped into all the necessary skills for the next expedition. After all, that was what she had been doing before joining the survey corps, albeit in a different field. Miche stopped in his tracks as an idea struck him. He felt dumb, so dumb. He had drafted so many tests, all by himself, fully knowing that there was someone that could probably do it better than him. Fully knowing that y/n had been a psychology student, and she had perfected the theory subjects after joining the survey corps. He turned around and approached Hange.

“Would you mind if I borrow one of your soldiers for a while?”

“That depends, Miche, who are you talking about?”

“Y/n, I need her help drafting the tests tonight. I think she can do a good job.”

“You are right.. I’ll let her know.”

“Tell her to be in my office by 9;30 tonight.”

Miche left for his office to begin work, he wanted to finish as much as he could before y/n showed up. Because work was not the only thing he was concerned about. He knew exactly what he was doing, it was dubious, but he needed to do it. It was funny how a few hours ago he thought he’d never confess his feelings, but later created an opportunity to do that exact thing. He couldn’t believe himself.

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It was 9;30 sharp, and Miche heard a soft knock on his office door.

“Come in, it’s unlocked, and take a seat before me.” He said without lifting his head.

Y/n made herself comfortable and glanced over three open books and a single page. Miche was writing down questions.

“Alright y/n, I need your help drafting the question papers for tomorrow’s tests. Of course, you will be exempted from actually taking the test as a reward.”

“Understood, sir”

“Good, now I want you to create 30 questions that combine the concepts of formations, weaponry and strategy. Make them difficult, and make sure to base it upon the last 5 expeditions.”

“Alright-”

“You have 2 hours to finish this.”

“Okay..” y/n walked over to the bookshelf and grabbed a heap of books. Miche raised his eyebrows in confusion,

“How are you going to refer to that many books and finish it within time?” Miche questioned her.

“I will, don’t worry.” y/n’s sudden confidence took him aback.

“Well good luck.”

Time flew by quickly as both of them were engrossed in their work, the only sounds coming from the candle and turning of pages. It wasn’t peaceful to be precise, y/n was turning pages with such aggression it made the section commander steal glances at her. She would flip through the pages and write down important points, constantly checking the time as she worked. Her handwriting got messier as time flew by and Miche couldn’t help but notice. He could tell that y/n totally had the plan to give those cadets a hard time. She had a weak, but cocky smirk the whole time, and Miche was just glad that he was not one of the people that would need to take the test. He knew that expression and aggressive handwriting very well. She always wore that smirk while writing exams, and everytime she came out on top. Miche knew she was overcompensating for her sub-par physique and iron-deficiency that interfered with her ODM skills, but that semblance of confidence on her face always turned him on. Her hair was still messed up, she struggled to keep that twisted fringe out of her face.

“Where’s the ruler?!” Y/n asked loudly, shaking Miche out of his trance.

“Wait…” He fished out a ruler from the clutter in his drawer and handed it to y/n.

“What are you drawing?”

“A wrong diagram of the latest formation.” Y/n replied curtly.

“I see.. Good.”

Miche was organizing his drawer after finishing his work when y/n handed him the tests. It was 11;30 sharp. The ink had somehow gotten between y/n’s fingers. Miche went through all seven pages of three extremely complicated tests and shot a glance at y/n, who looked like she was awaiting his praise. She was sitting with her back straight, wide eyed and messy hair. Miche chuckled, and y/n smiled. She knew she had done those cadets dirty with her questions.

“You have a naughty side, don’t you?” “Kitten” , was the term Miche refrained from using at the end.

Y/n nodded with a cheeky grin. The section commander squinted and got up from his chair, towering over her. A faint blush crept over her cheeks as she broke eye contact with him, staring down at her feet instead. Her delicate shoulders now looked tensed up under her transparent, embroidered shoulder shawl. The pile of paperwork didn’t allow him to notice her beautiful blush pink dress. She had embroidered little flowers to accentuate her figure all the way down to her hips.

“You look beautiful in that dress.” Miche blurted out, causing her to blush harder and breathe unevenly.

“Thank you, sir..”

“Look at me when you speak.”

“O-okay..” she slowly raised her head, still not wanting to make eye contact.

“I will be straight to the point y/n… I like you, not just as a comrade.”

“Understood.” y/n was taking quick, short breaths, causing the tall blonde to get on his knees. She had gone back to her timid mouse state and he could no longer read her.

“Are you scared right now?” Miche tried hard to not sound like a creep.

“No, I like you too!”

“That’s -” he began to speak but got cut off.

“More than a comrade, if you were wondering…” she trailed off shyly. Miche kept staring at her, dumbstruck at her honest confession. This whole time he had no idea about her feelings.

"When were you planning to tell me ..?" Miche asked, pulling a chair behind him. He was still leaning towards y/n with an expression of pure shock.

"I… Never planned on saying anything." Y/n's expression saddened as she looked at him with her doe eyes.

"I can understand.". he was telling the truth. The realisation that their confessions were a result of his impulsive decision dawned on him. He couldn't take his eyes off her form. She looked anxious, fondling with her pendant in one hand.

"Do you want to take this further?" Y/n asked with a shaky voice, and his answer was immediate.

"Yes."

She looked straight into his eyes and smiled.

"Can I kiss you?" The 35 year old man felt like a teenager trying to walk on eggshells. The woman before him giggled and nodded in approval, finally lifting her hand from the pendant. She was starting to settle down, although the butterflies in her stomach made it difficult. Miche was about to lean in when she stopped him and got up from her chair.

"I forgot to lock the door." She said naughtly.

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Okay, I really wanted to turn this into a smut, but I am too chicken. 🙈🥺