#this is only okay because they are fictional

[verstappenverse]

Revved Up

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Reader

Summary: Max grows jealous after your Instagram post attracts unwanted attention, including from an ex.

Authors Note: Do I actually believe Max posts on his own instagram these days... let alone would post with a 'scandalous' caption...no? but this is fiction so it's all good 😂

1.4k words / Masterlist

Max was sitting on the plush leather couch in your shared Monaco apartment, flipping through TV channels with all the enthusiasm of a man waiting for a commercial break. He glanced at the large floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the stunning Mediterranean view, but even that wasn’t enough to distract him. It wasn’t the usual race strategy or upcoming practice sessions that had him restless—it was something far more personal.

You.

More specifically the photo you had posted on Instagram earlier that day, a simple mirror selfie, a little scandalous but nothing crazy. You looked radiant, sure, but that was normal for you. You were always beautiful to him. What had caught his eye was the flood of comments, the notifications popping up every few seconds as he scrolled through your post.

As he scrolled eyes narrowing as the likes kept ticking upwards. Then he saw it.

Your ex.

The guy who clearly hadn’t gotten the memo that you were Max Verstappen’s girlfriend, because clearly he didn't see an issue with leaving a flirty comment that set Max’s nerves on edge.

'Looking gorgeous as always' it read, with an obnoxious little winking emoji at the end.

Max’s fingers tightened around the remote as the thought of some guy—especially your ex—thinking he had any right to compliment you in that way made his blood boil. You were his. The world knew it, but apparently some people needed reminding.

He didn’t say anything when you had walked into the living room earlier, cheerfully oblivious to his growing annoyance. Instead he had kept quiet, but now it was simmering just under the surface. Jealousy wasn’t a feeling Max was used to; on the track he was calm, confident, but when it came to you, his cool, collected exterior faltered. Especially when some idiot tried to act like he still had a chance.

You entered the room now wearing a loose sweatshirt and leggings, a casual look that contrasted with the glamorous image you had posted earlier. Max glanced at you his jaw tightening, you could sense something was off.

“Max, is everything okay?” you asked, tilting your head as you grabbed your phone from the counter. You didn’t even have to unlock it before he spoke.

“That picture,” he said abruptly, his Dutch accent thicker than usual, which tend to only happened when his emotions were running high. His fingers tapped on the arm of the couch in an impatient rhythm.

You furrowed your brow. “What about it?”

He leaned back, crossing his arms over his chest and you could see the tension in his posture. “Your ex commented on it.”

“Oh,” you said, blinking in surprise. You hadn’t noticed.“I didn’t even see that.”

Max didn’t like the idea of you looking at that idiot’s comment again, but you opened the app and scrolled down anyway finding the offending message almost immediately.

You rolled your eyes and let out a light laugh. “Seriously? He’s such a loser. I haven’t talked to him in forever.”

Max didn’t seem to find it as amusing as you did. His frown deepened. “Yeah, well, he still thinks he can leave comments like that. Like I’m not here.”

You couldn’t help but smirk at his grumpy tone. “What, are you jealous?”

His reaction was immediate. “Jealous? Me? No...” He paused. “I mean... you know how many people liked that picture?”

You raised an eyebrow, amused by how serious he looked. “Max, it’s just Instagram I think the point is to like pictures," you laughed but his expression didn't change ,"Max come on it’s not a big deal.”

“Not a big deal?” he repeated, his voice rising slightly, though he still sounded more irritated than actually angry. “Everyone’s drooling over you in the comments. And then there’s him.”

You couldn't help chuckling again and slid onto the couch next to him, pressing your hand against his knee. “Are you worried someone’s going to steal me away?”

He gave you a look, his lips twitching upwards at the edges, betraying the smallest hint of a smile. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re being ridiculous.” You leaned closer, brushing your lips against his cheek.

Max sighed dramatically throwing his head back against the cushions. “Maybe I should just post a picture with you, remind people who you belong to.”

“Oh, who I belong to?” you teased, poking him playfully in the ribs. “That sounds a little possessive.”

There was a teasing glint in his eye now, but you could still feel the underlying jealousy. “Can you blame me?”

You bit your lip to keep from laughing, enjoying how worked up he was getting over something so trivial. Seeing him this riled up over some stupid comment was kind of… adorable. You kind of loved when he got all possessive, even if he wouldn’t admit it outright.

“No, I guess I can’t blame you,” you admitted, leaning your head on his shoulder. “But you know I don’t care about those comments, right? Especially not from my ex. I didn’t even notice it.”

“Maybe you should block him,” Max muttered back to sounding grumpy.

You laughed again, unable to stop yourself. “Max, it’s fine, if it’ll make you feel better of course I’ll block him. But I need you to know I never think about him.”

He softened a little at that, his arm instinctively wrapping around your shoulders. “You better not.”

You smiled, nuzzling into him the warmth of his body calming. “Besides, none of those guys commenting are Max Verstappen now are they?”

“Exactly,” Max said, and there was that cocky smile you loved so much. The mood lightened as his fingers brushed through your hair. “None of them stand a chance.”

You grinned up at him. “And neither does my ex, so you can relax.”

He seemed to settle after that, his hand lazily stroking your arm as the tension eased out of his shoulders. “Good. But still…”

“Still what?”

“I think I should post a picture with you. Just to make sure everyone knows.”

You snorted. “You just want an excuse to show off.”

“Can you blame me?” he repeated, his eyes glinting with mischief as he reached for his phone. “Come on, one picture. Let me remind everyone you’re mine.”

You rolled your eyes, but a smile tugged at your lips. “Fine. Just one.”

Max scrolled through his phone finding the perfect shot of you two together arms wrapped around each other, he quickly typed out a caption and hit ‘post.’ Not long after, your phone buzzed with notifications. His fans were quick, already liking and commenting on the post.

You glanced at it over his shoulder, chuckling at the caption: Just a reminder—she’s mine.

“Oh my God Max,” you groaned playfully. “You’re ridiculous.”

He shrugged, completely unbothered. “What? It’s true.”

You laughed and shook your head, leaning into him once more. “You really are something.”

“I know,” he said, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “And don’t forget it.”

The rest of the evening passed in a much lighter mood. The TV hummed in the background, but neither of you paid much attention to it. Instead, you spent the time teasing Max about his jealous streak, much to his dismay.

“You know, I never thought I’d see the day when Max Verstappen got jealous over a social media comment,” you teased, curling up beside him on the couch.

He rolled his eyes, a playful smirk on his lips. “I’m not jealous. I’m just… protective.”

“Sure, that’s what we’ll call it.”

“Okay, fine. Maybe I was a little jealous,” he admitted, pulling you closer. “You’re kind of amazing.”

You beamed up at him, feeling a rush of warmth at his words. “Well, good thing I’m all yours, huh?”

“Good thing,” he agreed, leaning down to kiss you, slow and sweet. When he pulled away, he added kiddingly “What about, no more selfies without me in them.”

You laughed and nudged him playfully. “We’ll see about that.”

But deep down, you didn’t mind the way Max was with you. The way he got protective, a little possessive, and sometimes even a little jealous. Max was known as a fierce competitor on the track, but when it came to you, his heart felt just as fierce. And you wouldn’t have it any other way.

[afterglowsainz]

we used to have more pt. 2 | oscar piastri

part 1

pairing: oscar piastri x reader

summary: after oscar gets back with his ex you found yourself coping in the best way possible: running away

fc: different girls from pinterest

warnings: some very questionable work dynamics that i’m pretty sure are not accurate at all (good thing this is fiction and i can do whatever i want for the plot!)

a/n: thank you so so so much for all the love you gave to part 1! this story is like my baby and i’m truly so happy people liked it <3

—

liked by oscarpiastri, carlossainz55 and others

yourusername always ✨chaotic✨ in melbourne🦘

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username AHHHH i live for her weekly race posts

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username her ig is what my pinterest boards looks like 🥹

username manifesting this life truly

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lissiemackintosh i need that lipstick actually 😭

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[lissiemackintosh’s instagram stories] [yourusername’s instagram stories]

[caption 1: ✈️💗] [caption 2: lights out…]

liked by patriciooward, milesbaldwin and others

yourusername settling just fine 🍊🧿🍒

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username she’s working at indy now omg

username what nooo 😭😭 i love her in f1

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milesbaldwin survived our first week in america

tagged yourusername, lissiemackintosh, miguelsossa and declanmurray

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yourusername against all odds!

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username right like the season JUST started

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davidmalukas perfectly deranged!

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yourusername another week, another race day🏎🏁

tagged davidmalukas and lissiemackintosh

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username the way this could’ve been about china but no! she’s in america 😭

username obsessed with the fact she posts only in mclaren

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username an lissie and declan and miles and miguel and

username you can’t physically separate them i’m afraid (liked by yourusername)

liked by yourusername, declanmurray and others

patriciooward nice afternoon🧡

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username second podium in a row yesss

miguelsossa congrats mate! (liked by patriciooward)

username guys you lost me i’m in love with a mclaren 😔

username no i get you because this is me with oscar 😔

milesbaldwin feliz navidad pato! (or whoever you say it) (liked by patriciooward)

username close! welcome back sebastian vettel

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patriciooward thank you!

—

taglist; @heavy-vettel @a-beaverhausen @astroniii @chunkpiboli @theonottsbxtch @eclecticcreatorweaselsalad @charli123456789 @stopeatread @coriyaps @nina-or-anna-or-nora @ninasw0rld @loveelylani @marauders-wife @dramallama9 @mxdi0 @piastrigate @ladyoflynx @prudyhoo @idkwtdwml123 @southernbaguette @ellelabelle @emryb @fastfactory

[roosterforme]

Okay, but how about the first time Jake and Darling have a fight? How would that go?

I really like your stories bc while it is fiction, I feel like you show every aspect of a relationship, not only the good parts.

🩷

OMG, nonny. I'm swooning. I try to make my stories realistic (as much as they can be for fanfic). Nobody is happy and confident all the time. Everyone is stressed about something. Relationships are hard work, and dealing with someone else is sometimes weird and annoying. So thank you, I appreciate that so much.

Jake and Darlin' argue all the time about all the small things in life. They have different opinions on a lot of things, but it's never usually anything they remember by the next day. I think their first big fight would happen shortly after she moves in with him, just after she graduates from school and starts her new job. (angsty below).

"I had the longest day at work," you muttered, shoveling the last bite of the dinner Jake made into your mouth. You set your fork down and stretched as you stood. This whole week was dragging. You realized you were probably complaining more than usual, but you were just over it. "Let's go take a bath and just go to bed. I'll clean up tomorrow morning."

Jake looked at you, his lips pressed into a firm line. "Go ahead. I'll clean it up."

You reached for his hand, but he was already stacking the plates. "You cooked. I don't want you to clean up. I'll do it later," you reiterated.

"Just go get in the bath," he snapped, carrying everything back to the kitchen.

"I don't want to take a bath without you!"

Jake dumped everything into the sink and spun around. "You're not the only one who's working full-time, but you're certainly acting like it."

With narrowed eyes, you asked, "What's that supposed to mean?"

Jake took a deep, practiced breath and let it out slowly. "I know you're tired, but it would be nice for you to acknowledge that I work longer hours than you do. So just go relax in the bath by yourself while I clean up."

"Well, now I don't want to!" You were suddenly so angry, you couldn't see straight, and you also wanted to cry. "You're treating me like a child!"

"You're acting like one."

His words hurt you more than a slap across your cheek would have, and your jaw dropped open. But then his next sentence made it even worse.

"In my house no less."

"Wow," you gasped, turning and running toward the bedroom as you started crying. It wasn't like you weren't paying to be here. You knew it wasn't much, but you had been insistant about giving Jake five hundred dollars per month. And for what? So he could act like you were an unwanted guest?

You ran into the bathroom and slammed the door behind you before you curled up on the tub mat on the floor and sobbed. Work wasn't like school. Trying to figure out how you fit in with your coworkers was exhausting, and you were still learning all the ropes. You drove back here every day mentally drained, and up until tonight, Jake was always the one who seemed willing to listen. You should have just cleaned up the kitchen, because now you felt like you didn't belong anywhere.

"Darlin'." Jake's voice was as sharp as his knock on the door. You tried to dry your tears, but it wasn't working, and maybe you really were a child compared to your boyfriend. "Darlin'!"

"It's not even locked!" you shouted, but it came out as weak as you felt. Jake opened the door, and in an instant, he was curled up on the floor with you, pulling you into his arms.

"Fuck. I'm sorry," he whispered. "I'm so sorry I acted like an asshole." You tried to wriggle away from him, but he wouldn't let you. "I think I'm more exhausted this week than I'd like to admit, and I shouldn't have taken it out on you."

In spite of the fact that you were on the floor crying, you mustered up the courage to whisper, "I'm not a child."

"You're an adult," he said firmly. "An adult who just started a very impressive job. You're holding it together better than I did when I was in flight school." He kissed your forehead. "And you're absolutely right. We should have just climbed in our bathtub and then gone right to our bed. The fucking dishes do not matter right now. They can sit in our kitchen sink until whenever the fuck we feel like cleaning up."

Jake rubbed slow, soothing circles against your lower back until you were all cried out. If you thought you were tired before, it was nothing compared to how wrung out you felt now. You wanted to put forth a peace offering and just get up and clean the kitchen, but his lips were on your damp cheek and his voice was in your ear. "I love you, Darlin'. It has been a long week for both of us. I would like nothing more than to climb in a hot bath with you, relax until the water gets cold, and then get in our bed and go to sleep."

You nodded and started the water while he got two towels ready, and then both of you undressed. Jake kissed your bare shoulder and held you while the tub filled. "You belong here," he whispered. "I don't want you anywhere other than our house."

[drewharrisonwriter]

Life Well Loved

Status: One Shot, Complete

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

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

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

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

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

Read this on AO3 | Check out my Masterlist

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

–

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

–

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

–

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Positive. All of them.

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

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

–

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

–

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

–

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It falls flat, and he frowns deeper. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

–

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

–

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[chaifootsteps]

I believe it's okay to romanticize problematic stuff in fiction, but only if your work is geared towards adults who should be able to maintain their morals regardless of what they consume in fiction. 

If you're an adult and believe it's okay to sleep with your uncle because of House of the Dragon, then the problem is you, not the show. As an adult, you should have your own moral compass that doesn't rely on fictional characters to guide it. 

Adults should be able to consume fictional media with problematic tropes and themes without it compromising their morals.

I think you can also believe that people have a right to include problematic stuff in fiction geared towards adults and still have opinions about it. You can think that House of Dragon's content makes sense for the story it's trying to tell and that The Coffin of Andy and Leyley's doesn't, or that 50 Shades of Grey does real harm and that A Clockwork Orange doesn't, or that Lolita doesn't make you want to throw the book in the sink disposal but the sewer scene in IT does.

Being an adult capable of consuming fictional media with problematic tropes and themes means being able to use your brain about it.

[mrs-kodzuken]

hard to desire ⨟ kenma k.

chapter two

babydoll ari abdul

❝Oh, Father, forgive me for all my sins

When I meet your eyes, the Devil, he wins

Blinded by your lies, but I play pretend❞

previous chapter next chapter

"We're going to miss you so much sweetheart," Your mom hugs you tightly, tearing up a bit.

"Call us if you need anything at all, sweet pea." Your dad says, giving you a sad smile over your mom's shoulder.

"I will, I promise. I love you guys so much." You tried keeping the tears at bay because you knew you wouldn't be able to stop. They had packed everything you'd need into your small car and then, of course, sent you with extra money for the things they couldn't fit.

You were going to live with Kuroo in an apartment so surely there should be basic things like a refrigerator or microwave?

"Be safe, sweetie." Your mom said as you were leaving out of the door. You could only nod and wave bye, you'd never left home on your own like this before, so it put you through quite a few emotions.

You hadn't mentioned the part about Kuroo's roommate, Kenma, yet to your parents. They trusted you under Kuroo's care as if you were still a child.

Starting the drive to the town you would be spending the next few years in made you a little nervous. You decided to hook up your playlist and play some of your favorite songs to help with the nerves.

You had also wondered if you would ever see that strange man again, maybe that would be your first ever attempt at romance. Never being in a romantic relationship before meant that you relied on fictional characters from books to fulfill that part of your brain.

You just hoped that Kuroo wouldn't snoop to your bookcase that would be put up in your room to hold all of your books like trophies.

In the time that you had been driving and spacing out to the music, you had magically appeared in the town you kind of remembered.

Quickly, you called Kuroo because he didn't even give you the address to the apartment you would be staying at yet.

"Hey, I'm in town now. Could you send me the address?" You asked into the phone call connected to your car's radio.

"Uh, yeah sure," Maybe a minute went by. "There you go. I'll go let Kenma know you're on the way here, little one. See you in a bit."

Whilst you were trying to figure out the weird directions to get to the damn apartment, Kuroo was trying to get Kenma to come out of his room.

"Kenma, she's on her way now. Make sure you're nice to her, just what I had spoken with you about a couple days ago." Kuroo reminded Kenma, leaning on his door frame.

Kenma had been still trying to sleep even though it was almost 11:40am. That's always a tell-tale sign that he was up late on one of his many consoles or editing his Youtube channel.

"Kenma." Kuroo called once again.

Something stirred within the pile of blankets on Kenma's king-sized bed. Then a grunt was heard and Kuroo decided that it was enough for him, he'd have to actually say it again when Kenma would be up later. Kuroo shut his door and sighed, hoping this would go great for everyone involved.

Soon after, you sent him a text message saying you believe you had gotten to the apartment.

Kuroo came jogging down the apartment stairs to meet you exiting your car.

"Hey, little one. Was the drive okay? You need some help getting all that up the stairs?" He asked, giving you a hug. He'd be mindful of your feelings later when you've settled in so you can spill about your sentiments of being here, like you used to.

"Hey, yeah the drive was fine. Nothing but a bit of music and singing can't help," You chuckled and broke the hug.

"And yeah, it would be great if you could help me." You eyed your car, the backseat seemed to have been spilling through the windows based on everything your parents had insisted on packing.

"They sure do love you; you know that?" He mentioned opening your trunk so he could start with whatever is back there first.

You swallowed your feelings, "Yeah, I know. Let's get this stuff hauled in there." You said, changing the subject so you didn't have to think about that right now.

"I've taken the liberty to give you a queen-sized bed. I assume that you would bring your own sheets because I know you like particular 'aesthetics'." He made finger quotes around the word but that didn't take away how thoughtful it was of him.

"You didn't have to; I could've bought my own and put it together. I'm a manly man, you know?" You joked, enjoying the nice moment between you two.

"Yeah, yeah whatever you say." He grunted, hauling a box over his shoulder up to the apartment. After a couple trips, he told you he'd get the rest and lock your car for you so you could get things organized in your new room without being overwhelmed.

Heeding his instructions, you got to work.

By the time you were done, your room kind of resembled the one at home but this one spoke to you in a way that one never did. It signaled a new era for you – a new you.

Your bookshelf stood tall and proud with plenty of colorful books on it. Your bed had a pink and white theme, a fluffy rug in the middle of your hard wooden floor, and a door mirror were your favorite touches so far.

The apartment itself wasn't so bad. You didn't really get to take a look at it due to unpacking but you definitely wanted to now. Exiting your room, you find the bathroom and you guess the bedrooms where Kuroo and Kenma sleep.

The kitchen wasn't spacious, but it wasn't crowded either. It doesn't take a genius to realize that Kuroo probably meticulously placed the barstools and counter items like the tea, coffee, and toaster machines in specific places.

He was such a geek sometimes.

You looked through the cabinets and tried to stick everything to memory of its place. You, however, brought some of your own favorite dishware that had cute pink ribbons imprinted on the glass. You definitely were going to make your presence known with that.

That happened a lot more throughout the apartment too. Your little decor items like a specific throw blanket and pillow on the couch just for you. Small decorations on shelves here and there. Your toothpaste and toothbrush in the medicine cabinet.

You were popping up everywhere in their lives. In his life. And for some reason, it got under his skin. Even covering his head with a pillow, Kenma could still hear you bustling about in the apartment, talking to yourself about where something should go.

You'd occasionally ask Kuroo, and he'd just say, "Whenever you want to put it is fine with me, little one." Not taking into account Kenma's thoughts and that kind of pissed him off.

Not that it was his fault anyways. It's not like he got out of bed to say hi and greet you. Or it's not like he's pretending to be asleep so he doesn't have to conversate with you.

Kenma doesn't know why exactly you're getting under his skin so much, but it bothers him. It bothers him so deeply.

"Want to come with me to help you set everything up for school? I can show you the main buildings and once you get your class schedule, I'll tour the buildings with you, so you won't be late on your first day?" Kuroo's offer lit your eyes up.

Afterall, you were here because you wanted your degree, so obviously you're excited about classes and school.

"Yes, yes, yes. That'd be amazing. Just let me grab a jacket and I will. I saw something about it possibly raining later." You called out to him, fast walking to your room to get a zip-up you had on earlier.

You heard Kuroo walk back into the hall, and you thought he was going to get on to you for taking forever as you looked at your outfit into the mirror of your door. But that wasn't the case.

A knock was sounded, but it wasn't on your door. It was his.

"Kenma, want to come with us? We're going to go view the fall semester classes." Kuroo said through the door to Kenma's room.

You even stopped breathing to hear him.

You'd see the picture frames on the walls and here and there on the shelves from their high school days but there wasn't a current one of Kenma out. And even in those pictures, he was always looking away or face not closely in the picture. That in itself had made you curious too.

“Too tired.” Was all that was spoken but it still had an effect on you. Even though it was muffled through walls too. It was slightly becoming a bit more than curiosity at this point. But then again, you kind of had gotten a bit sad that he wouldn’t be tagging along.

You’d be living with a man you don’t even know, and he was too tired to go look at fall semester classes? Interesting. 

“Alright, well little one, let’s get this show on the road then.” Kuroo called for you and you opened your door.

“Okay!” You shoved that weird Kenma thought to the back of your brain and went ahead with Kuroo to enjoy how you guys would be spending the rest of your day. 

. . . 

Just like that, two entire weeks of school passed by. And yet, not even once within those fourteen days of school did Kenma take any invite from you.

You remembered how he turned you down multiple times. One day you had softly knocked on Kenma’s door, hoping for him to answer.

“Hey, want to come study with Kuroo and I? I thin-"

"Leave me alone." Kenma's annoyed, muffled voice cut you off and gave you the answer you needed. You purse your lips, hoping you haven't done anything to upset your roommate. Although that isn't even one of the possibilities for you haven't even been in the same room for longer than five minutes max.

Another encounter was when you had gotten home with Kuroo, and you guys decided to get takeout which was aka Mexican – your favorite. You had found Kenma sitting on the couch in the living room scrolling on his phone.

It was as if he could sense you looking at him, he quickly got up and headed straight for his room.

"Hey, wait. I wanted to know if you wanted to add to our order. We're getting Mexican food for dinner tonight." You spoke hopeful, keeping your voice light the entire time. You desperately wanted to connect with your roommate, even if it seemed that he hated you – your mere presence.

However, he had other thoughts as he passed you with a gruff scoff, "Mexican makes me sick."

Just a few words hurt your feelings more than you'd like to even admit. You weren't used to this type of rejection when you had been nothing but cordial.

One fateful day after class, you decided you really needed a study session with Kuroo to boost your spirits. You didn't want to feel so down with it only being the second –almost third– week of college.

"Of course, anything for you. I'm going to invite Kenma; he needs it too." Kuroo said, without thinking. You hadn't confided in Kuroo about how you think Kenma absolutely hates your guts. Every time you try, you just keep thinking maybe there is something you're missing that is making him behave this way towards you.

"Oh... yeah, that's a good idea." You tried to support it, but you were riddled with anxiousness.

Your nerves got even worse when Kuroo had stated that Kenma, begrudgingly, would meet up with you guys. Only to which you then mustered half a smile, knowing that the next few hours would be more stressful than the coursework itself.

You stood at the small cafe that was built into the university's library, you stared at the menu hoping that your memory would be able to recall what Kuroo had always ordered.

On the off chance that you and Tetsu come here to study or get a breather, you always forget what he orders. On the other hand, Kuroo has mentioned what Kenma gets every single time and now that is the only thing that has burned itself into your memory.

A fucking oat milk latte loaded with any sort of sweet syrup.

You'd been secretly watching Kenma when he drinks them, seeing which kind of syrup he favors more. You're not exceptionally sure why you've been doing this either. However, the vanilla and caramel he seemed to like the best, so you asked to add both of those syrups into his latte.

Then, you made sure to send Kuroo a quick text, asking what his order was again – hopefully it just gets blamed on your apparent forgetfulness.

'Iced coffee with a splash of sweet cream' He had texted back, which honestly seemed very basic.

With a drink carrier, you carefully made your way to the study table that soon had everyone's laptops, notebooks, and pens out.

"Thank you, little one." Kuroo said, hastily taking his bland iced coffee from the brown, recyclable drink carrier.

Kenma's sharp golden eyes peered upward at you, causing you to gulp. He took his coffee without so much as uttering a word as Kuroo got to work. You had pretended to type notes for your art class and secretly peered up to see the slightly upward turn of Kenma's lips.

You felt satisfactory with your decision.

After a few hours of studying, you couldn't help that your eyes kept drifting to Kenma. Kuroo had gone to the bathroom and your coursework was definitely not on your mind. You breathed in as you took in his entire form across the study table from you.

Kenma's medium length hair was pulled back into a low ponytail, his brown roots showing more so since they've grown out quite a bit from the starch contrast of the blond hair dye. A few strands of hair had framed his sharp angled face, he seemed extremely concentrated on whatever he was reading at the moment.

Your eyes moved downwards, taking in his frame and clothes. They were the most basic, as expected from someone who didn't really care what outfit he wore. A tee with graphics on it and black sweatpants.

Noticing more, his laptop had one of those light up keyboards that you kind of wanted to run your hands across for fun. If you focused on just him, you could slightly smell the scent of cinnamon apples coming off of it. It felt intoxicating to say the least, making you feel the slightest bit of light-headedness.

You snapped out of your thoughts when he suddenly shut his laptop hard.

"Done studying?" You asked curiously, trying to pretend that there isn't a weird flutter in your stomach nor that you basically were ogling him either.

"Why does it matter? It's not like you're doing any studying with the way you've staring holes into me." He sneered at you, and you couldn't help the faint dust of blush that coated your cheeks.

"I was spacing out, sorry." You muttered, only focusing your attention on the brightly lit laptop screen, not the way you feel embarrassed for the emotions that coursed through your veins when you thought of your roommate – who hated you, you had to remind yourself.

When in the hell was Kuroo coming back from the bathroom to save you from this?

synopsis: it's the summer before you go to university, and you decide to become roommates with your pen pal that you've known since you were in primary. big problem arises, he's got a roommate, and it just so happens that his roommate either has a sexual want for you or hates your guts – or probably both?

tag list: [let me know if you'd like to be in the tag list!]

@geektastic84 @lavanderdreamve @hhoneyhan @kirikeijii @marsoverthestars @nymphsdomain @justagirlnamedkai @kodzukein @74zix47 @kakuzone @jaeminaur

a/n: i made the banner, and i got my idea for this smau from @deftrow !!

[ceo-mochee]

Right I'm gonna say it cus I've seen and heard enough.

If you ship something toxic, Do NOT complain when people hate it.

(NOTE : Do NOT send me hate asks/comments if you choose to read this, cus I really do not gaf if you hate me for this. It's just my opinion and I wanted to get it off my chest.)

If the ship your shipping is a healthy pairing and people are hating you for it, then sure you have a reason to be upset. However if you're shipping something like Romesse, Aidesse or I don't know...... AXDEN.... (which are pretty toxic ships in general (my opinion)) then yeah people have a right to hate the ship.

I will agree on some part that attacking people is not a good thing, and this goes to both sides. People who don't like your ships shouldn't have to force you to change that, but at the same time if people hate on the SHIP itself (and are NOT namedropping people), then why should you be so worried? I literally watched one of my moots get attacked by someone because they wrote about not liking Axden.

Hell I'm even gonna take a quick minute to slander this ship now. Why? Cus it's pretty toxic- Aiden bullied Axel and tried killing his friends, do you reaaaaally think Axel would be friends with someone like Aiden, let alone get in a romantic relationship with him?? Yeah I don't think so either.

Here's the thing tho, this is just MY OPINION. If you disagree, COOL! But making a huge fuss about it and attacking others who disagree is only fueling that belief that "its not the ship itself, it's the shippers that are the problem." Getting pissy cus you CHOOSE to read someone's opinions and decide that because you disagree, and believing that you should go send anonymous asks attacking said person is also just making yourself look real pathetic.

I'm sorry, but if you're gonna get sensitive over a fictional pairing getting hate, then I don't know what to tell ya. s

I, of course, may or may not be the one to talk. I've shipped Axel and Lukas together for a long while and I may or may not have been hurt by some people's opinions myself, but that doesn't mean I'm gonna go off with my pitchfork and torch and bombard someone with hate asks/comments, you know how much easier life is when ya just silently disagree with one's opinions and move on? It's amazing lemme tell ya.

So far I've only seen this happening with the ship Axden (Axel x Aiden), which is pretty damn bonkers if you ask me. Why can't y'all just accept the fact that no matter how much you preach, self project onto characters, or fuss about your own opinions, not every single person is gonna agree with you. My ass already got turned into a damn PTSD trigger to one person (who I'm of course choosing NOT to namedrop) cus I disliked that ship.

"I know Aiden bullied Axel but... but I made it to where he redeemed himself!!!"

Okay??? Still doesn't change the fact that you're getting upset that people are understandably uncomfortable with that ship mate... do you understand how happier we would all be if you'd just BLOCK people who disagree instead of burning an innocent user at the stake because they dislike a toxic ship.

Like seriously if you're gonna get upset and attack someone for not liking a (pretty toxic) ship that you like and not just like- Idk- BLOCK them... then you're probably already a lost cause my friend.

[bucktitties]

writers of 911 STOP MAKING ME NOT HATE THE BUCKLEY PARENTS T___T

[tero-ga]

Aaaaanother TGAA SwapAU stuff and it is my wonderful boy Albert as the prosecutor!!

I've changed some of the designs in this one like the jacket color to white to make a resemblance of a lab coat and reflecting of Kazuma white school uniform, as well trying to bring more Frankenstein's Monster vibe too hehe (aaand make him look more miserable too). He is also have a locket that have a painting of him and his two brothers, it was given by Andrew during his wedding!

I also made bunch of character that related to Swap!Albert's life from 10 years ago, like Andrew(Klint's roleswap) and his other brother Michael, university Barok and Albert, etc. more info about the are there down below 👇👇

First of I wanted to say I'm sorry I can't do full render of everyone here, do that with all of them would be death sentence for me so I couldn't do it 😭😭 Anyway without further ado, I'm going right into it! Start from left to right!

This first one Ryunosuke father replacing as Genshin Asogi. At first while brainstorming I was thinking of maybe do three switch around with Genshin, Jigoku, and Yujin but the it somehow felt weird for me. Then the thought of maybe involving Auchi in this too (like, imagine him being swap with Jigoku wouldn't that be funny and terrifying thought), but discarded that idea out because of Menimemo would have no one to swap with (i have to i'm sorry). Sooo I ended just design him from scratch, he is quite easy to figure out since Genshin doesn't really have much going on with him, but since we don't have any idea of original Ryunosuke's parents at all I have to take idea from something else, and that is his daruma doll for his eyes (he is half blind!! :D) and Phoenix DD/SOJ design (droopy hair and light vest) and everything else is from Genshin. His name is Ryuuki Naruhodo since Ryunosuke is another name for Ryuichi so I want to keep the train going!!

Andrew the screwdriver, oh I missed him- Anyway, I redesign his outfit because tbh his previous outfit is ridiculous 😭 it's funny and fun but I do want to take him seriously now. I'm tried to keep the A shape still but it's less subtle now, I think it turned out okay!! (Oh yeah, his cane is supposed to be a hidden sword but i forgot to put that in the drawing 😭). I was supposed to make his bowtie red like the hair tie but then I realized it will getting rid of the purpose of the hair tie (it referencing the blood on the tip of the screwdriver) so I ended up making it color silver.

The Lady Baskerville, I gave her similar design to Sunny(Herlock!Swap) with the bowtie, color palette to his mascot, and hair on her. I'm not really quite fond with her design, maybe I'll do redesign her again if I got a idea pop up like crazy but in the meantime this is her design.

Guess who is this?? Another one of Albert's tool is here finally!! Michael the crosshead screwdriver! Since we never see Michael anywhere and only mentioned once in the game he is, I'm just draw simple design for him (I wished I could put M shape in the design but I have no idea WHERE to put it 😭 so I tried used the bowtie for it). I also thought it would be nice to make him a defense attorney so I made the design for the badge too. Since he is sadly not going to be mentioned a lot in this AU since I'm trying to make the storyline same as the original, so I made a backstory of what happened in the fun fact tags. There was supposed to be more tool to be added but my god that would be taxing to design, so I have to make only Andrew and Michael as his only siblings.

The doggie Balmung replacement, Bolt, He is a Irish Setter! Beforehand he was supposed to be Borzoi but then research the background of the breed I don't how difficult it is to actually get one in that era so I have to changed breed :((

Albert and Barok in university days!! I just keep same as before like previous design!! There's a tiny change like the hair and the neckties.

There is going to be more content of them soon because I have a lot of ideas for them sooo stay tuned ;)

Here's the concept designs!!

[itsdefinitely]

do girl jeri and boy jerry exist explicitly to torment me

[birdsong-warriors]

SwiFT, WE CAN SEE YOU.

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Part 1: Friend and Family

See up to thirty pages ahead, with timelapses, on Patreon!

Backgrounds, brushes, and other assets for sale on my Ko-Fi!

[spacepajamas956]

Someone: “I like Shinji.”

Someone else: “B- But the hospital scene-“

SHUT UPPPPPPP!!!!!! YOU CAN LIKE A CHARACTER AND NOT AGREE WITH/SUPPORT THEIR ACTIONS LET PEOPLE ENJOY THINGS!!!!!

[god-of-knk]

I'm going to draw Taffy ship art tomorrow solely out of spite.

And perhaps post it in the server.

If I'm feeling extra petty.

[inconclusionray]

If I see one more "poor Izzy was in an abusive relationship for twenty years :'(" take I'm going to set this pirate ship on fire.

[aj-lenoire]

i do not enjoy harry potter anymore and even when i did, snape was not a character i ever liked, but for some reason my ‘for you’ page is just full of dedicated snape stan accounts and i hate it

[prototypelq]

Pan thoughts because I am normal TM about him:

- Unless Grace shows her interest in him (aka romance route / Let's Dance), Pan is almost absent from the story.

He only appears twice - in the beginning, and at the end for the trial - cause that's a formal procedure all gods have to be present for. There are four optional encounters: if you come meet him before the Reliquary, he'll ask to complete a favour for Asterion, another encounter is handing in that the favour, Medusa encounter, plus the final meeting before the trial. Freddie is present with Grace for the most of the game, Apollo - has at least 6 encounters, even if you don't play the game with him (apartment, Underworld, Aphrodite's Party, Hades, Trial), Persephone - 3 encounters (Underworld, Hades, Trial). Back to Pan - none of the gods really speak about him. Except Persephone and Apollo, who are trying to both dismiss and point fingers at him at the beginning. After that, none of the gods ever mentions Pan again.

It's almost like he is very much an outsider among the pantheon, probably right until he needs a favour, or somebody needs his favours.

- It's kind of logical that Pan is the outsider in the pantheon, if you think about it thematically. All the other gods have clear niches they control and keep in order. Nature is anything But order, in fact, if nature is anything - it finds order only in constant struggle or the constant redefining of scale, in Change. So yeah, a god of Dis-order could very much be antithetical to other gods of Order. If Calliope was looking to shake things up, then he would certainly be one of her first choices for allies in her quest.

- This makes it easy to understand how exactly Pan got tangled up in the whole mess. He span his web of favours, which were all small little things (probably), but it caught a prey so big Pan was stunned so hard, his agency basically went out the window, until the case was closed.

- Okay, now for the particular lines in different versions of I Can Teach You (aka Lost Girls, Time To Shine and Morning Fades), if, For Some Reason you haven't finished the game yet - please do. It's short and definitely worth your time, cause it's amazing. also I really need to talk about this so Big Tangent Ahead

I'll do these song by song.

Morning Fades - It's in the name of the song - Pan is... pretty much the only god who reminds Grace she is or a strict timer. Every other god, by some reason or another - drags her into their own problems, which she helps to solve, and only after that can she make progress in the case. You know. While being sentenced to death in a week. Grace has to solve the problems these gods have been brewing in for, at least, decades AND prove her innocence, so her sentence to death can be prevented. Pan is the only one, who reminds Grace, multiple times, that 'Time's a wasting', she needs to hurry, and doesn't take any more of her time than he should.

Morning fades and the day wastes away, Grace You can't wait, Grace, don't delay

Another line, that gives us a very clear insight into Pan is this line right here:

This Freddie is a friend you can use, but this isn't playtime Time to choose

You get this line only in the purest form of Morning Fades (aka all blue), in which Pan leads unsure Grace along through the song, but Freddie is ignored and she does a final solo to try to get through to Grace. Pan sings those lines with remorse, he values the devotion Freddie demonstrates, even if he did call her Lost Girl a few times throughout the song. But despite his own lines - previously they were Time To Play, now that time is over, cause the song is over. This is the time to solve murder of a goddess, and while Pan does not like dividing the girls, he sees there is no place for Freddie in this adventure, and thinks that it would be too dangerous for her.

There will be more evidence of Pan's personal motivation later, I have only just remembered the Green version of Morning Fades, and it's very interesting. This is the song where Grace tries to follow Pan's advice and direction in her first steps, then gets carried away by the song and her bestie into their own fun musical, all while ignoring Pan.

You think you don't need me, just cause' you can't read me

This line is quite straightforward - Pan knows he is acting shady, but reinforces that his intentions are genuine, if only the girls could see through their first impression of him.

Time To Shine - now, this version is interesting, cause here we have Grace who is rebelling against every possible notion of control, or even help, and Pan loves this song anyway. This song proves that Pan was honestly just trying to help (and quieten the misguided guilt he feels), so as long as Grace can use her power and has a mind sharp enough to find the proof the needs - he is satisfied. And he really is! It's clear from the get-go that Grace is independent, clever and fiery enough to handle everything herself, so he rolls along with her, confident in her abilities.

Actually, in this version he is quieter than normal - he throws a line about Freddie, but otherwise between the first Time to Shine and the star scene chorus he keeps silent - Grace wants spotlight, so he steps aside to hear her out.

Yes! This is your time! Time to shine!

It's also fun that, in his first verse he always Grace to hurry up, here instead he is getting so excited about her number that he throws in

Yes, a solo! Go for it, we got time! (solo) Grace, you're starting to comprehend Let me show you more, or show me the door!

He sings that line very excitedly, which is very silly and fun xD. It is to be expected then, that Pan joins in Grace's final Time To Shine chorus almost instantly.

Lost Girls - this song is very interesting, cause in this version the girls are pretty much dismissing Pan completely, and fully give into the song, they get carried away to have their own fun musical number. This time Pan has to ground them back into reality - in other versions he gets excited over the number, well, not in this one. This Pan is grumpy - his advice is being dismissed, he is not taken seriously, and he cannot fully deliver the message he wants to convey, or the lesson he wants Grace to learn.

Grace: Lost girls, lost girls, you all love your lost girls, A rescue that you can take home Pan: I won't say you need saving, you're not drowning, you're waving

In this first Lost Girls verse he is still being playful, but even in the beginning he has to placate with both hands that he is not a danger and only wants to help. But if Grace keeps ignoring Pan's advice, he starts to get more serious.

You're lucky I got to you There's people who'll come for you I'm hurt you're making so much ado You're lost and I'm trying to help!

Okay so, knowing the events of the game, I can't be the only one thinking of Aphrodite here, right? That's my best guess as to what Pan is referring. The girls keep on getting carried away, and he has to just straight-up state he only wants to help.

Interesting, that even after being ignored and rightfully grumpy about that, Pan is still willing to join into the trio singing together. He's also delighted by that solo is particular xD

I never knew I had that in me!

Even after half a song, Freddie still keeps freaking out about the whole 'musical' thing, and to that Pan says, with a literal facepalm:

You don't understand Nothing for Grace will ever be the same!

If Grace goes for the full song here and green ending, then Grace and Eddie happily continue singing their troubles away, and at this, Pan really gets frustrated. So much so, that he goes plainspeak, even though the Green Lost Girls solo seems to be his favourite moment in any variation of I Can Teach you.

Really? Now you're just being silly Maybe the Muse isn't feeling the gravity? Or do you refuse and, like ostriches, happily stick your heads in the sand? Grace, I could be your right hand Freddie, you'd better leave her alone Let me do what I do, or she'll sink like a stone

The way Pan keeps on insisting so hard that Grace needs someone's guidance has me thinking that either there have been accidents with new idols, who were unable to control their powers properly before, or maybe it was his own personal struggle with control over the abilities, and he was wishing hard for someone's help at the time.

It's also weird that he keeps on pressing that Grace needs assistance here, even after she has choreographed an entire musical number right before his very eyes, all without a hitch, and she is clearly a natural. For some reason the way Grace and Freddie get so much carried away scares him particularly? Then again, in the Time to Shine versions Pan is perfectly fine with letting Grace do whatever she wants, because she demonstrated skill and independence. In this version, she demonstrates the same things, but uses them to have a song with her bestie, and This triggers Pan for a reason. Interesting.

Kind of a similar situation happens with Green version of Morning Fades, actually. The end of the song has Pan start the usual Morning Fades chorus, but then the girls come in and literally steal the spotlight from him, and this forces Pan into plainspeak.

Pan: You think I'm the danger? You have no idea. I wouldn't blame you for wanting to hide, But do we make merry or should you get ready? Finally grow up and take it outside. Grace: So wait, are you saying you won't work with Freddie? Pan: She couldn't be less qualified

A stark contrast to the original full-blue Morning Fades, where Pan regrets dividing the girls, isn't it.

So Pan has mentally allowed a very specific fun-zone, meaning this one musical number, which he is happy and excited to engage in, but he won't let the girls get carried away with their fun forever, and tries very hard to ground them back if they do.