Dieter Bravo X Reader - Blog Posts

Pedro Pascal characters realizing they love you <3

♥Characters: Various Pedro Pascal Characters x Reader

 RATING: Pure Fluff :)

WARNINGS: Y/N who? only MC. like only 2 cuss words. Let me know if there are some other things I miss :)

Din Djarin

He realizes this when Omera introduces him to her sibling, MC. Grogu LOVED you. While Grogu went to play with the other kids in the villiage, Din would spend his time thinking over his emotions with you. He would try his best and try and talk to you but it would just turn awkward. After you started talking to him more, you felt comfortable telling about your dreams and inspirations. You wanted to leave your planet and travel across the galaxies. Once you told him that he knew,

something had to happen between you two.

Javier Peña

You were included in a meeting when he first saw you. He didn’t go head-over-heels as soon as he saw you. Matter of fact, he didn’t think much of you he just thought you were interesting. When he actually met you face-to-face was when they were on a mssion. You both talked a bit but not that much. He decided he would ask you to come to his office to help him figure the investigation out with him. Of course you said yes! Who wouldn’t take up the offer to chat with a VERY handsome dude? You were trying to connect the dots with the homicides and the killer and that’s when it happened. In his prespective you looked adorable and he loved your detirmened personality. Ever since then he’s been questioning his feeling torwards you. He would ask you for another investigation session. He would keep asking you till it became a routine. In his prespective he thought it was a phase and that this feeling would just go away.

Boy was he wrong.

Dieter Bravo

Dieter met you after quarintine. He thought you were pretty cool for someone who was new to the Cliff Beasts franchise.You and him started talking more and became good friends. You were a very monotone and calm person for someone to be friends with the overly eccentric and confusing man. He knew he fell in love with you as soon as he felt that spark ignite when he shook your hand. Everyone else knew that you being the smart and calm person you are wouldn’t know Dieter liked you, was total bullshit. The fact you were VERY oblivious to the fact that Dieter liked you was shit-sticks to them. And if you found out, 

he would literally stay in his room for HOURS.

nah, I'm a little too obsessed with this. Read the other part too, but this one was purely delicious! Oh, the talent is killing me softly, really --

Clean

Summary: They are everywhere, at all times.

Warnings: Dead dove do not eat, noncon, kidnapping, fingering, manhandling.

Pairings: Dark! Joel Miller x reader, Dark! Javier Peña x reader, Dark! Marcus Acacius x reader, Dark! Oberyn Martell x reader, Dark! Agent Whiskey x reader, Dark! Dieter Bravo x reader, Dark! Frankie Morales x reader

Series Masterlist

You hadn't recollected yourself when Joel spoke once again, Texan drawl lighter after the relief he had taken on your body. Your shivering hands attempted to paw at scraps of your clothes, using your previously discarded jean jacket to cover your naked form.

"Might as well bathe her if she's sleeping in my bed," He asserted casually, looking down at your disheveled state. "had a long day, didn't you, puppy?"

You stared at him wide eyed, not knowing what to possibly say. The nickname rolled out of his tongue with satisfaction, towering over your kneeling form, as if you actually were a dog. His shoulder flexed under his worn navy sweater, and he shifted to the rest of the men, tucking their still-hard erections away. You sensed the power Joel held over them, taming their savage desire with a simple command.

"Call dibs on that." Dieter proclaimed, a chuckle and a growl mixing in his tone as the rest cackled slightly. Joel tutted, cutting through the sounds charismatic-ally.

"Want her squeaky clean, Catfish it's on you."

Your Savior slammed the toy helicopter on the kitchen table, standing up with a torn, dutiful look on his face. The rest begun rumbling, and Joel simply looked up at them through his eyebrows, silencing them.

Catfish's dark and dirty boots stumped on the floorboards, short lived protests in their wake. His eyes glared at Joel from beneath the visor of his cap, hands twitching at his sides, but softened when he came down to his knees before you.

His hands reached for the over sized jean jacket that you had a white-knuckled grip on, and he gave it a wavering tug. Your eyes pleaded at him, and he nodded, still reaching for the jacket; his eyes reassured you, but you had seen the bulge protruding at his zipper, he was no better than the rest of them.

Burning holes into your head was Joel's stare, so you let go. It surprised you as Catfish straightened up the piece and showed you the arm hole. Slowly, you extended your limb and climbed into the jacket.

"Can you walk?" He whispered, and you tensed your muscles, skimming the possible pain. Your core felt like fire, but your legs felt enough as you pushed yourself onto the soles of your feet. You breathed out, eyes on him as he lifted you around your waist, hands warm through the denim.

As you came onto your feet, you realized the other men had possibly lost interest, fidgeting around with random objects you couldn't place through blurry eyes. Some sat down on the tattered couch, other's perched upon the counter.

A reassuring step after the other, with Catfish's arm supporting your back and waist, palm not fully pressing against you, you walked past the fireplace, and the couch and almost reached the hallway before your muscles turned taut, stretching and pulling at the fiber of your flesh. His careful grip wasn't enough to hold you as your knees slammed against the floor, crevices and lines sinking into your flesh and eliciting a sharp hiss.

"Need help?" One of them asked, and you hand shot to pull the only item of clothing down your bare ass. Preserving some dignity.

His hands were more stubborn, pulling you hastily from the floor to your feet and into the shadowy hallway. You felt cold marble digging against your back as he propped you against the bathroom counter, turning on the yellowed light.

The bathroom was well kept, but it didn't compare in the slightest to your back at home. You scanned for similarities, washbowl, mirror, toilet and tub. Although the porcelain looked stained, and the mirror was barely enough to see you face and some of your neck, it was spacey enough for the two of you to stand with some distance.

He crouched by your legs, hands reaching into the cabinets before pulling out some essentials; soap, a towel and bottle of shampoo which's label had rubbed off. After placing them on the counter, he silently kneeled over the bath tub, turning the rusty faucet on.

You peeked at him through wild strands of hair, debating onto what to do next. Your whole body was ravaged in shock, and you barely processed the situation. The men were speaking on the other room, you heard it as low whispers, along with the water splashed onto the porcelain, intercepted by Catfish's thick fingers.

His dark brown t-shirt expanded over his large back, material so thin you could trace the outline of each bulging muscle; as he leaned over the edge of the filling tub, a peak of flesh showed from the space between the shirt and his worn out boxers. He smelled musky, hidden under a layer of what you could tell was cheaper version of your father's perfume.

The sole idea brought tears into your eyes, stinging their way down your cheeks as you sniffled lightly. He pushed his shoulders back, tensing at the sound, but didn't say anything.

They were dead, that you were almost sure about, bodies were scattered everywhere and guns were going off madly as you ran away. You didn't even get to say goodbye, slipping out of your comfy bed that very own morning to go get coffee down the street before the alarms went off. You ran, because you knew the alarm meant you had to.

The bathtub creaked as Catfish used it to leverage himself up. He dried himself on the itchy hand towel, and turned to face you, but his eyes didn't meet yours.

"Water's cold, sorry for that." He muttered, sincerely. He stepped aside, showing you the half filled bathtub. Your thighs pressed together, sticky mess pooling and drying flaky upon your damp skin; your hands clutched onto the jean jacket as you pressed it as closed as possibly.

Catfish scanned the room, as if checking everything was in place before he moved to the door. "Gonna see if I can give you something to change onto."

Not because of finding something, but if he was allowed to. That went unsaid, and you kept silent as the door creaked shut. For some seconds, you froze, testing the strength of your strained legs or expecting something else to happen. But the more you looked at the tub, you knew you had to get this done with.

What could happen if you took too much time?

You slipped your jacket off, biding goodbye to the last trace of your scent as the cold autumn air bit at your exposed skin. The soap felt greasy and thick against your hand, and your mind dumbly wondered if it could cause any bad reaction against your skin, but the idea of being dirty disgusted you more.

You bit a hiss as you stepped onto the cold water, sinking in quickly to avoid further discomfort. The icy water aching at any pain in your body, but it took away any dirt and sweat as you lathered the soap against your body. You didn't dare to look between your thighs as you rubbed at them underneath the water.

And then you dropped the soap, letting it sink to the bottom as your fingers ghosted over your core. You still felt him, deep inside you, and you hesitated to rub there, to try and clean any trace.

Your mind clawed towards the inevitable future as your shoulders slumped against the cool porcelain, as you scratched the shampoo into the knotted hair, careful on the spots that had been tugged. Some stray hairs tied around your fingers as you attempted to comb it. Once you believed you had finished, you let your eyes closed.

Would they be mad if you stayed here?

For a brief second you allowed yourself to relax, finding comfort in momentary stillness. The door creaked open, making you jump and slosh the water around. It had turned grayish, and you felt your hands shot to cover your bare chest.

Big, puppy dog eyes peeked through the door. He had taken of his cap, and his dark brown hair curled almost in shape. He held a dark bunch of fabric in his hand, and he stretched his upper body to settle it in the toilet lid.

"I'll be waiting outside, no hurry." He mumbled, softly, eyes reassuring and voice barely above a whisper. "Joel's already in bed, told me to bring you once you are done."

You nodded. You heard more talking outside the door, but his words had assured you at least some brief respite of the situation. It had brought everything crashing back, your vulnerability, and you took a deep breathe as you begun emptying the tub.

As the water swirled, you realized you didn't felt clean enough. With shaking fingers you popped the stopper back in and turned the faucet back on.

It pooled around your feet, cold no longer bothering you as you pulled your knees onto your chest, pressing your under eyes against the scratched skin.

Some seconds more, some more seconds of ignoring what was happening to you, you wondered if this was going to become an usual occurrence before the door hinges cried in protest.

You sighed, knowing you had possibly exceded your time in peace as you begun to rise.

"F-fuck you!" Was bellowed, and your head snapped to the door.

A sharp cackle followed that, and the scene unfolded.

Catfish's face was red as it bulged beneath Marcus' imposing bicep, knees folding under the pressure. Whiskey limited your view, body connected the door frame and the knob as he stepped in, too busy laughing at his fellow Raider to look at you. Beside him, Javier leaned against said frame, Cheshire cat grin pulling under his mustache as his eyes narrowed at you.

He pushed the laughing Whiskey into the bathroom, not before shooting Marcus' a smile over his shoulder as Catfish struggled against his confines. A hand was clamped over his mouth, keeping his gaze forcefully fixed upon you.

They neared the tub, eyeing the streaming faucet with intrigue. As you stared at them, slotting your body as far as possible into the tub, you realized they had changed into night clothes.

It gave you a small reminder of your guy friends back into the community, pijama pants and old t-shirts, though their eyes told a different story. Dark and blown out.

You felt Whiskey's breath against your back, making you jolt forward, coming face to face with Javier. Your hands came to grasp at the sides of the tub, knuckles turning white.

"Easy there," Javier commanded, voice stern. His hand dipped into the puddle forming by hour feet, fingers swirling on the water. "It's cold baby, want me to warm it up for you?"

Your head shook on itself, rapidly, frantically. He shifted, jaw ticking to Whiskey behind you. His arms slithered slowly around your collarbones, pulling your crouched back straight against the flannel of his pijama shirt. Your arms stuck to your sides at the armpits, incapacitating you as the heel of your feet kicked splashed water around.

"Can't fuck you without Joel's approval," Javier grunted, wet fingers tracing up your naked thigh as his eyes ransacked your form. Whiskey's grip pulled taught at your breasts, nipples erect and pruned from the freezing water, and you couldn't close your legs without slipping further into the bath and straining your neck. "Should have done it when I found you, you were already in all fours, recall?"

You slammed your head back in panic, Whiskey barely dodging it as he nosed along your neck; he growled at you. You clenched your thighs as best as you could, but Javier was stronger. Elbow pressed against one knee and his hand splayed against the other, forcing you an arm width open for him.

His other hand, the one that was previously tracing up your thigh, lowered dangerously, tracing two fingers through the seam of your sex.

You whined, Whiskey’s breathe fanning over your cheek as a single tear slid through it. It all felt tense, their hands on you, the faint noises of rustling behind you as Catfish attempted to escape Marcus’ grip, and their hot gazes upon you.

Two fingers pulled your lips apart, exposing you if possibly further to the cold air of the bathroom. Javier bit his lower lip, sighing as warmth spread up his neck.

Not even then, as you bathed yourself, you had peace.

His digits prodded at your hole, swollen and pink from Joel’s cock, yet they slipped in with some protest. A louder yelp escaped your lips, Javier giving Whiskey a warning through his knitted eyebrows. The man pressed a big, calloused hand to your lips, and you understood their boss possibly hadn’t given them permission for this.

Experimentally, Javier pushed his fingers to the last knuckle, pads pushing against your walls as they felt around. Searching, they were, along his eyes; searching for something in your expression.

“How is she?” Whiskey whispered, voice laced with amusement.

“Still fucking tight.” Javier growled ferociously, retrieving his fingers and working them back in slowly at first.

A small, hidden moan bounced against Whiskey’s palm, and your eyelids shut close. There was something about the way he was curling his fingers, against something just below your mound, that sent your legs shivering. Tears slipped into his hand, shame, breathing hard by his powerful grip upon your chest.

They shared a mischievous smile, almost juvenile in a way.

“Don’t cry, puppy.” He cooed, but the mockery made you cry harder. “Just gonna make this pussy cum.”

He leaned forward and spat, straining his shoulders from the position. His thumb scooped up the spit and pressed at the apex of your core, beginning to rub careful circles as his hand begun thrusting harder into you, curling quicker.

You felt the knot tighten at your stomach, toes curling and you tried, one last time, to get away. Useless.

“Make it quick.” Marcus hissed, a thin layer of sweat shining over his forehead. Catfish hadn’t stop struggling, vein popping at his forehead.

He didn’t answer, but his ministrations became more forceful, sending your eyes rolling back as you felt wetness spread, coat his fingers.

A sloppy kiss on your collarbone sent you spiraling, biting painfully on your lip as you exposed more of your neck to the man behind you. The knot snapped, walls clenching around Javier’s fingers as they fucked you through your high. Pride resounded in his chest.

The arm that was spreading you dislocated from your knees, curling around your quavering thigh as you squirmed away, ministrations becoming too much.

It hurt, though pleasure laced on the action you felt raw, vulnerable, small. You felt your breathe heaving, growing agitated with the passing seconds. Fear clouded your features, mind chanting please make it stop over and over.

As if hearing your thoughts, Javier slowly pulled out his fingers, cleaning them in the sloshing water and then his pijama pants. He relished in the way your eyes clouded with tears and how helpless you looked, the grin on his face told you so.

You felt the arms around you loosen, and sobs wrecked through your body as the hand came off. From the corner of your eyes, Marcus let Catfish go, but the man just ticked his jaw at him, unable to say more.

A grip on your chin stopped you from casting your eyes downwards, and Javier studied how red your lips looked, puffy from crying.

“Give me a kiss.” He ordered, though his voice was sultry. You swallowed hard, shame tinting your cheeks as you blinked at him.

Cocking his head, he grinned even wider. “Have you never…?”

The threat lingered in the air, Whiskey’s stubble rubbing against your neck.

The hand on your chin rose to cup your cheek, keeping you still as he rolled on the balls of his feet, mouth parted before smashing his lips onto yours.

You whimpered at the feeling of his tongue entering your mouth, taking a claim. Teeth clashing against teeth, Javier coating your mouth with his own saliva, and how the bathtub dug into your back as you tried to escape away, just falling deeper into Whiskey’s spread arms.

He pulled away, leaving a string attached as he revisited for a quick peck, enamored with the taste of your lips. His hand smoothed over your cheek, wiping tears carelessly.

He stood up, and Whiskey followed him, knees cracking. You balled up, face hidden in your knees as muscles tensed and ached.

You heard their chuckles as they left, only one pair of eyes on you now. Catfish groaned into his hand, fist slamming against the counter, sending you flinching.

He softened as he turned on his heel, spreading the towel for you. He could tell you were scared, your eyes looking up at him through your wet lashes, but he just turned his head to the side.

You stood up, droplets cascading from your body as he draped the thick, coarse material over your form. You stepped out of the tub, breathe hitching as you waited for his next move.

He shook the hairbrush in your face for you to take it, and rested the t-shirt and a new toothbrush on the counter as he turned around, head planted to the door.

You stole glances of his broad form as you brushed your hair as best you could, and as you slipped into the y-shirt; it was old and stretched out, yet smelled good. You could tell it was Catfish’s, by the perfume.

You spat out the remaining toothpaste and propped the toothbrush on the empty holder, hand daring to tap at his back.

He gave an off the shoulder glance before fully turning around, quickly scanning your form. How silent you were irked him.

“Gonna take you to Joel’s room.” He grunted, jaw tensing. Though his eyes told a different story; sad and puppy like, warm brown.

You nodded, in defeat. He stopped in his tracks, hand resting at the door knob.

“What’s your name?” He asked.

You felt it slip out of your tongue almost uncharacteristically, just your first name. What good could your surname do at this point?

“Pretty.”

He opened the door, hand once again finding your hip. The lights outside the corridor were off, and the house was silent.

You passed through doors and doors, realizing the state of the house as you stepped in front of the last one. It wasn't like your house, but it was big, not dirty but time had taken its toll. You wondered if they had found it like this, dilapidated wall paper and humidity splattered on the ceilings, or if they had been there for long enough.

Catching you gawking, Catfish murmured over his shoulder. "If you are looking for a way out, I'll tell ya now, they won't allow it."

You swallowed, the idea hadn't even crossed your mind. In all honesty, most of the thoughts you were having were blank.

Catfish knocked on the door, and you heard a faint “come in” grunted.

Inside the room, Joel lay in a king size bed, silk navy sheets carefully done beneath him. You recognized them from the shop back in your community. His thighs were strapped in flannel, and his muscles bulged through a thin tank top. The dim light of a bedside light illuminated his marred skin, shining lightly. At the other end of the room was a door and a window. Through the curtains you saw the deep, treacherous forest, a pool of black and green.

He looked up from the book he had dwarfed in his hands, and his brows furrowed.

“Didn’t tell you to dress her.” He commented, voice sharp.

Catfish sighed. “It’s just a t-shirt.”

Joel let the book on his nightstand, arms crossing as he glared at the defiance. “You can take it, she won’t be needing it.”

Your adverted gaze rose to look at Catfish, but his fingers still wrapped around the hem of the shirt. He peeled it off, gently, before looking once more at Joel.

“That’s it, thank you, Frankie.”

Your mind buzzed, lips parting as Catfish turned on his heel and closed the door behind him.

“Come here.” You heard, forcing you to face once more the man in the bed.

Your legs wouldn’t budge. His eyebrow shifted, threateningly. You felt your lower lip jut out, swallowing a sob.

His muscles tensed, and you forced yourself to take a step closer in fear he was going to stand up. Another, and another, your naked knees grazed the bed.

He nudged to the space of the bed beside him.

Tag list:

@tateypots

perhaps you wanna read @koshkaj-blog @paink1llerf0rm1ller @oldloganslittleslut

My Darling Muse (v),

Dieter is in LOVE. He's just not sure if he's met them yet. But in the interim, he's keeping a journal to house all of his inspiration, poetry and recipes, before they fly out of his head. And once he meets the ONE...or ONES...this is going to be his gift to you. Along with those sexy time IOU's he's always handing out...

Trigger: it's Dieter bub so this series will DEFINITELY include profanity, drugs, alcohol, sex, smut and any meanderings D wants...He's endlessly inspired by art, poetry, songs, sex and YOU!

Series Masterlist

*artwork by Cat Bug and OsoStudios *cool dividers by @sweetmelodygraphics

My Darling Muse,

YOU ARE THE SUN, AND I THE MOON I ENCIRCLE YOU, CASTING SHADOWS IN THE TUMULT OF EMOTION BUFFETING THE OCEANS I, THE MOODY COLD LANDSCAPE YOU, THE FIERY FLAME I LONG FOR YOUR WARM TOUCH ICY, BARREN AND ALONE WHAT DEPTHS DO YOU ILLUMINE? SUBMERGE IN MY OCEANS BATHE IN MY SEA OF TRANQUILITY MELT THE ICE HEART’S TUNDRA THE SHIFTING TIDES WILL LULL LOSING OURSELVES TO ONE ANOTHER LOST AT SEA, BUT NEVER LOST DROWNING UNTO BREATH I AM MYSTERY, IMAGINATION I AM INTUITION AND AMBIGUITY I FIND CERTAINTY IN MY ENIGMA DRAWING YOU INTO THE UNKNOWN EVER FIXED LIGHT IN THE DARK ANCHOR TO THE HARSH DAY STEP INTO THE NIGHT NAKED MOONBEAMS ALIGHT (scribbled in the margins; the moon is made of camembert, Lunar Landing; Actors needed?, Is the moon pan?, Moon Pie Ingredients?, Lunar Cycle: Impact how high I can get?)

Hey folks! This is J, Dieter's PA. Firgive any typoos, Dieter has gone nocturnal since his good friend Pedro Pascal posted about the Aries Moon and Dieter had his first reading (@firsttarotreader). Now Dieter is determined to read his own horoscope to find his long lost love/s. He wants me to share that he hasn't pooped in three days, after subsisting on a diet of entirely cheese, but it is the "sacrifice of artistry". No Dieter you cannot read my palm again, it's only been five minutes. No we would NOT get a group discount by traveling to the moon as a polycule. I gotta go folks, time for a midnight nap...

My Darling Muse (iv),

Dieter is in LOVE. He's just not sure if he's met them yet. But in the interim, he's keeping a journal to house all of his inspiration, poetry and recipes, before they fly out of his head. And once he meets the ONE...or ONES...this is going to be his gift to you. Along with those sexy time IOU's he's always handing out...

Trigger: It's Dieter bub so this series will DEFINITELY include profanity, drugs, alcohol, sex, smut and any meanderings D wants...He's endlessly inspired by art, poetry, songs, sex and YOU!

My Darling Muse,

(Bluets Excerpts by Maggie Nelson) “Suppose I were to begin by saying that I had fallen in love with a color.” “I am writing all this down in blue ink, so as to remember that all words, not just some, are written in water.” “Fucking leaves everything as it is. Fucking may in no way interfere with the actual use of language.” “To take a breath of water: does the thought panic or excite you?” “sometimes I do feel its presence to be a sort of wink-- Here you are again, it says, and so am I.” “I want you to know, if you ever read this, there was a time when I would rather have had you by my side than any one of these words; I would rather have had you by my side than all the blue in the world.” “And we have not yet heard enough, if anything, about the female gaze. About the scorch of it, with the eyes staying in the head.” “And what kind of madness is it anyway, to be in love with something constitutionally incapable of loving you back?” *written in margins: Blue Balling? Was I a fish in a previous life? Is Blue...bi? How do you say "fuck" in Latin? Only blue stuff. I love baby goats, but not like that...Practice female gaze...

Hey folks! This is J, Dieter's PA. I don't have much time to talk. Dieter has sworn off writing, after his good pal Pedro Pascal recommended "Bluets" by Maggie Nelson. Now Dieter claims he isn't worthy to worship at the feet of Blue, and is re-painting all 5 bedrooms in his house. Yes, Dieter I'm going to the store right now for all Blue foods...No, I don't think Blue Koolaid is produced naturally...Yes, I promise to listen to Joni Mitchell's album "Blue" and think primarily Blue thoughts for the month of October. I'm not sure if you can dye a goat's hair blue, but we can look into it...I gotta go folks, this is getting out of hand...

Blue Album by Joni Mitchell

*Van Gogh

*Picasso's Blue Period

*thanks @thecutestgrotto for the cool dividers!

Pedro-Tober!

Awwww! Inspired by @alyssamariag and @norththelemon I've decided to feature curated pics/art, juxtaposed with fics and AI inspired Bitmoji. So much artistry to celebrate this October, we have our stylishly decorated hands full. Look at these amazing artists!

1: Official Movie Artwork by Reiner Meinerding 2. IG @amakuni_s 3. Nails by Christina Tran, Moody Met 4. Moody Silva 5. Esquire Bonus photographer Norman Jean Roy 6. My Darling Muse Pedro-Tober #2 Pedro-Tober #3 Pedro-Tober #4 Pedro-Tober #5

My Darling Muse (iii),

Dieter is in LOVE. He's just not sure if he's met them yet. But in the interim, he's keeping a journal to house all of his inspiration, poetry and recipes, before they fly out of his head. And once he meets the ONE...or ONES...this is going to be his gift to you. Along with those sexy time IOU's he's always handing out...

Triggers: it's Dieter bub so this series will DEFINITELY include profanity, drugs, blood, alcohol, sex, smut and any meanderings D wants...He's endlessly inspired by art, poetry, songs, sex and YOU!

Series Masterlist

Rothko's "Red On Maroon", thanks @thecutestgrotto for dividers!

My Darling Muse,

I am a gaping wound, Aligned with your iron fluidity Throbbing with the passion of blood Warming at your scalding touch Like lava, I flow unbidden, a verse of self unhindered and free Pulsing, ebbing, molten and boiling Pistoning forward in poisonous acid, I am the red monster Alight with desire, wings unfurled in splendor and terror I survey all and know little, a word unspoken A thought unuttered, a feeling unrequited, A husk of a shell unravelled, like trinkets in a wind chime My words bounce on a red dawn A red tide that bears stealthy fruition A soundless crimson wave of meaning, Into your chasm I plummet, into the red void I sojourn Feathered wings in pained approach Molt and melt like Icarus, I am the red death I am the maroon birth, I am love alight And rage unaltered (scribbled in margins: Was Rothko bi? Is blood a good paint substitute? What's it like to date a vampire? Can I list myself as a Google location? Online anger management...with goats.)

Hey folks! This is J, Dieter's PA. I'm not sure if he even knows who I am, but I also run his TikTok page so he can "commune with the proletariat". His fellow actor and good buddy Pedro Pascal recently recommended "Autobiography of Red" by Anne Carlson. And Dieter has similarly been obsessed with John Logan's production of "Red"....No Dieter, I won't mention you thought it was originally a musical about menstruation...

My Darling Muse (ii),

Dieter is in LOVE. He's just not sure if he's met them yet. But in the interim, he's keeping a journal to house all of his inspiration, poetry and recipes, before they fly out of his head. And once he meets the ONE...or ONES...this is going to be his gift to you. Along with those sexy time IOU's he's always handing out. As always, love this post @for-a-longlongtime, and inspired by the Trope-Off

Trigger: it's Dieter bub so this series will DEFINITELY include profanity, drugs, alcohol, sex, smut and any meanderings D wants...He's endlessly inspired by art, poetry, songs, sex and YOU!

Series Masterlist

Goya's "Drowning Dog *thanks @anitalenia for the cool dividers

My Darling Muse,

Like a dog, I lap at your wounds Drinking you in, drowning in your juices Swallowing + swallowing me I am adrift at sea without you, turning in the tumult Pverwhelmed and isolated i have abandoned myself To worship at your dwelling I journey and journey in the labyrinth of your rose Clawing and grasping, biting at the hand that feeds How long have I been lost? To what supple kingdoms do I travel? Am I found anew in your arms? Re-birthed in this self-death I swim in a sea of salty tears, An ocean of my own making I lance together my bones, fashioning a mighty raft Until I drift into your treasured embrace Woof. (scribbled in the margins: What does LSD stand for? Out of Kit-Kats. Are dogs bi? NA mg in semen? Oil Paint-good for lubricant? Is cannabis an aphrodisiac?)

*Hey folks, this is J, Dieter's PA. I'm not sure if he actually knows who I am, but I try to replenish his Kit-Kats whenever I can. Dieter says his fellow actor Pedro Pascal is an art afficianado and loves all things Talk Art. Don't forget to check out his delightful insights...sorry...watch Dieter's movies FIRST. I got it Dieter, thank you...I don't know if they've seen "Cliff Beasts 6"...I'll ask...

My Darling Muse,

Dieter is in LOVE. He's just not sure if he's met them yet. But in the interim, he's keeping a journal to house all of his inspiration, poetry and recipes, before they fly out of his head. And once he meets the ONE...or ONES...this is going to be his gift to you. Along with those sexy time IOU's he's always handing out. Love this post @for-a-longlongtime, and inspired by the Trope-Off (Dieter Bravo/Pen Pals)

Trigger: it's Dieter bub so this series will DEFINITELY include profanity, drugs, alcohol, sex, smut and any meanderings D wants...He's endlessly inspired by art, poetry, songs, sex and YOU!

My Darling Muse (ii) My Darling Muse (iii) My Darling Muse (iv) My Darling Muse (v) My Darling Muse (vi) My Darling Muse + Pedge's Jukebox My Darling Muse (vii) My Darling Muse, My Darling Dieter My Darling Muse, My Darling Dieter (ii) My Darling Muse, My Darling Dieter (iii) Dieter's Art Studio; Where is D?

*Goya's "Saturn", *thanks @thecutestgrotto for the cool dividers

My Darling Muse,

The night awakens my deepest darkest desires I claw at my own skin, desperate to be released Into your embrace, into your cavernous heart You devour me, I devour you. We ravage each other in the stillness of the night Howling, yawping, digging into the recesses of our passion Chewing me up, Spitting me out I unravel at your touch, disintegrate in your kiss. I sink my teeth into your supple flesh Drinking in your life, your blood The carnality of our existence My eyes are wide with terror in vulnerability I hold you in my dangling grasp as you hold me Headless, thoughtless, armless, shoeless Less and less, and more and more I die to to you, to myself, and am reborn in your arms.

(scribbled in margins: New tattoo? Metaphor for drinking pussy? Am I a cannibal? How much semen would you have to drink, if you were stranded on a desert island? Out of red paint. Was Goya bi? Okay to eat acrylic paint? New sexy position hurting back...)

Dieter is such a cutie, really 🥺😍🥺😍🥺😍

Poor Dieter having to watch lots of horror filmes, but at least he had reader to sleep with him after

For the Love of Horror

(Dieter x horror-loving female reader)

Summary: The reader is totally me; I love horror films and I usually watch them on my own as most of my friends are scaredy cats. There aren’t that many fics where the male character is the one scared of film and Dieter seemed to be the perfect fit.

Warning: no use of y/n, mentions of scary films, Dieter being scared of said scary films, slight euphemisms, saucy suggestions, lots of adorable fluffiness

Dieter Bravo loved you, but you loved horror films, and he was the biggest scaredy cat in the world.

You’d first met the strange but handsome actor as his makeup artist for an indie film. On Sap of Justice, he played a man hunting down his wife’s killer while slowly being turned into a tree. He won a SAG or something for that, he didn’t care, but it required hours in the makeup chair.

You showed up on the first day wearing a bright yellow jumper, an even brighter smile and a Tupperware full of homemade cookies. He was instantly smitten.

His latest rehab stint actually worked this time, but he ended up developing a giant sweet tooth. While the rest of the crew did not appreciate your delightful treats, Dieter ended up consuming more than he should have, usually while he was sitting in his makeup chair, making a bit of a mess.

You then came up with the idea of giving him a piece of chocolate to slowly melt on his tongue so he could sit back and let you do you work. You’d slip in another piece onto his tongue when he ran out, it was probably the most sensual thing he’d ever experience.

He was happy to just sit and listen to you as you babbled on about films, most of which he’d never heard of. You knew a surprising amount, more than most directors he’s worked with.

He couldn’t help but smile at your bubbly enthusiasm and he just wanted to be around you. But that tiny colourful you had a dark interior: your love of horror films.

The first time you invited him over to watch a scary movie, he thought it was a euphemism for his favourite activity and he was excited.

But no.

You put on Hereditary.

He spent the rest of the night alone in his room with the lights on, his eyes never leaving the ceiling.

The following night he had a nightmare where he was stuck in a dollhouse with naked people.

He was so relieved when you wanted to have another movie night. He suggested maybe a romantic film this time round.

So, you put on Candyman.

Dieter couldn’t look at himself in a mirror for at least a week.

The third time he suggested watching a comedy film.

So, you put on An American Werewolf in London.

This time it was less scary as he mainly spent the time looking at you while you enthusiastically explained in detail how Rick Baker achieved the first transformation scene and how horror films lead to your career choice.

That was when he fell in love completely and utterly in love with you.

And he needed to come clean about his horror film phobia.

Thankfully, you didn’t kick him to the curb like the piece of garbage he believed he was. You apologized profusely for taking over film choices with your favourites and it was definitely his turn to choose his favourite.

Dieter shyly suggested Beauty and the Beast to which you sighed and said it was your favourite non-horror film and immediately put it on. You put your head on his shoulder as you watched it.

“So why is this your favourite film Dieter?”

“Well…I like to think that if a beast can fall in love and get a happily ever after, then that gives me hope”

Your reply was a hug and kiss on the cheek,

He could certainly get used to this. It was nice.

Eventually, you both found a compromise with your film watching together. No horror film before dark and not every time you got together. You hunted around to find the least scary horror films when it was your choice. And you suggested he watch Dead Meats Kill Count which helped because Dieter could at least anticipate when the scary parts would happen beforehand. You always made sure to turn the volume down when a jump scare was going to happen.

In the meantime, Dieter worked with his therapist to uncover the reason behind his scaredness of scary films. He suspected it was that donkey scene in Pinocchio was the cause of trauma but there was still work to do.

You saved him from your guilty pleasure films such as Snakes on a Plane and the Final Destination series, so you instead only subjected him to the good ones: the really good, critically acclaimed, award-winning ones. He finally watched The Shining and Get Out which ended up not being as scary as he thought.

Dieter discovered he had missed out on a huge amount of great films. You were both sobbing wrecks at the end of Train to Busan and he absolutely loved Willem Dafoe’s crazy ass monologue in The Lighthouse and immediately had to learn it himself.

You discovered that Dieter had a huge love for animated films and would sing along to every song, every time. Of course he knew all the lyrics to Under the Sea and Be Our Guest which you couldn’t help but smile at, he was just that adorable.

And you were roped into a duet of A Whole New World. Dieter was just a big romantic at heart. It was a side of the actor no one knew or cared about.

Whenever a new horror film came out at the cinema, you were more than happy to go by yourself as you were used to that. He survived watching A Quiet Place with the volume down and praised your bravery and madness for seeing it at the cinema alone.

But when there were times when you really wanted to see a film not in the cinema and Dieter didn’t want to be alone, something to do with his love of cuddles with you or something. This would be when you’d watch it with headphones one and Dieter would be hiding his head in your lap. Most of the time you’d run your fingers through his hair, and he’d fall asleep.

He liked this.

He could get used to this.

Two years later…

“Honey cakes, I’m home!”

You practically skipped across the hallway to give your boyfriend Dieter his well-deserved welcome home hugs and kisses.

This was the best part of his day.

You were now living together in his huge house, and both couldn’t be happier. Dieter was happy to wake up next to you every day and you were happy to finally be able to watch horror films on his huge TV.

“How was the meeting with your agent?”

“Not bad. Got given this script for a TV thing to read through.”

You perked your face in interest. “Oh? Thinking of moving away from films?”

“Well, I’m told this is a pretty good script. Written by some guy named Mike Flanagan…”

You promptly screamed.

Dieter almost flew across the room; he’d never heard you scream before. And he thought he did a pretty good job in the bedroom.

“Mike Flanagan?!!!”

“Is he good?”

“Is he good?!!!”

You proceeded to grab the collar of his shirt and started shaking him in excitement.

“He makes Stephen King good, that’s how good he is!”

You’d never been rough with him before, and he liked it. A lot.

Your tiny body was bouncing around like a jellybean, you were that excited.

“You remember that film Oculus? The one with the mirror?”

“Is that the one with the hook hand guy?”

“No, that was Candyman; the second film we watched together. Oculus has that one big mirror and Karen Gillan.”

He was surprised you remembered your second date.

“Oh yeah, that one”

“And Gerald’s Game was amazing!”

“I still occasionally have nightmares about that tall man”

“Aw, I’m sorry”

You immediately hugged him, and he rubbed your back in appreciation.

“So, you think I should read the script?”

“If you get to work with Mike Flanagan, I’ll marry you!”

“Seriously?”

But you had bounced away at this point. Pouting, Dieter immediately pulled out his phone and called his agent.

“Hey, that TV thing you gave me the script for: I’ll do it, sign me up”

“You’ve already read it? That was quick”

“No, but I have it on good authority from an expert that it’ll be good, so I’ll do it”

“Alright then, but still read the script”

“Yeah, yeah of course. Hey, um…are they needing any makeup artists by the way?”

“Probably. Are you recommending your girlfriend again?”

“Well, she’s the best, and if she got to work on this job, she’d probably have my baby which sounds…nice”

Dieter was lost in this happy fantasy until his agent interrupted him.

“What was that?”

“Nothing. Gotta go. Bye!”

He quickly hung as because you had returned by then and you had that look: the look that meant he was going to be subject to a new horror themed piece of media.

“Now, I’m thinking you should at least watch one of Flanagan’s series to help with your decision and we should definitely watch Midnight Mass”

“Hang on, I’ve heard of that one. That’s the one everyone on set wouldn’t shut up about”

“Because it’s good!”

“Hasn’t it got vampires in it?”

“Yes. But it also has monologues”

This piqued his interest.

“I like monologues”

“I know you do and there’s lots in this one.”

You got up on your tiptoes to give him a kiss.

“Now, get in your favourite comfy clothes. I want us to fit in a few episodes before it gets dark.”

“Yes ma’am!”

You gave his small butt a playful slap as he walked away.

He was going to have to get out that engagement ring from its hiding spot sooner than he thought.

😭🥰😭🥰😭🥰😭🥰😭🥰😭🥰😭🥰😭

Puppy Love

Pairing: Dieter Bravo x Reader (she/her pronouns used)

Category: Friends to lovers, neighbours to lovers, fluff

Summary: Your neighbour Dieter's dog is the only comfort you need during stressful days. Well, maybe her and her owner.

Warnings: swearing, mentions of suicidal thoughts, a sick dog, hints of depression, it's mainly just fluff, idiots in love, flashback in italics

Word count: 6.3k (This was originally supposed to be a few hundred words of really basic pure fluff but it turned into a few thousand words with an actual storyline?? Who knew I was capable of that?)

A/N: This is soooo self indulgent because I was feeling down and looking at that photo of Pedro as Dieter with the baby goat. I didn’t think it was realistic for him to have a pet goat so I changed it to a dog. Called Frankie. (Named after Pedro’s character in Triple Frontier…) In hindsight, a cat would’ve made more sense but now it’s too late. He’s kind of out of character so imagine it’s him pre-fame. This isn’t my best work but decided to publish anyway since I put some effort into it.

You knocked on Dieter's door frantically. You'd just had the worst possible day imaginable. You'd slept through your alarm, broken a heel on the way to work, then your train was late and to top it all off your boss was in a terrible mood and took all of his frustrations out on you.

You'd trekked home in the rain which was just the icing on a shitty day, immediately walking past your apartment to go to Dieter's instead. It was sort of an unspoken arrangement the two of you had that neither of you could remember starting or even how it had started. All you knew is that it had been happening years, ever since you moved into the building really. If you'd had a bad day then you'd go over to his to have a cuddle with his dog, Frankie, whilst talking it over with Dieter. And if he'd had a bad day then he'd come over to yours and eat something you'd either baked or cooked, whichever was most recent.

Normally, you'd go to yours first in order to get changed and dump your work stuff but today was especially bad. Bad enough to force you out of that ritual and to go straight to his instead. You continued knocking, not stopping until you heard him on the other side of the door.

"Okay, okay! Calm down!" He swung open the door and his eyes landed on you, drenched from the rain and on the verge of crying. He didn't even need to greet you. "Need Frankie?"

You nodded, your bottom lip trembling. "Please."

"Come on in then." He opened the door wider and stepped to the side, quietly ushering you in and closing it behind you. "She's in her usual spot on the couch.”

"Thank you." You mumbled to him before speed walking into the next room to find Frankie curled up on the end of the sofa. You approached her carefully, not wanting to disturb her too much and took a tentative seat next to her, reaching out to stroke softly down her back as you dropped your bag to the floor. "Hey, sweetie."

Frankie sleepily blinked her eyes open, took one look at you and crawled over to sit in your lap, leaning her head on your chest before she went back to sleep. There was sort of a bond between you and Frankie, one that even Dieter envied. He supposed it was because Frankie just seemed to understand when you were feeling sad so became the ultimate cuddle machine, perfect for you to find comfort in.

Dieter watched the two of you from the doorway, smiling to himself at the sight. His two favourite girls cuddled up together on his sofa. "I'll make coffee." He said before walking through to the kitchen, not giving you a chance to reply.

You barely noticed what he had said, just humming blindly in agreement as you cradled the dog closer to your chest, burying your face in the soft fur of her head. Blinking back tears, you kick off your shoes and crossed your legs underneath yourself, careful not to disturb the sleeping canine in your arms.

Dieter returned after a couple of minutes, a cup of coffee in each hand that he put down on the table before sitting next to you on the couch. He watched you for a moment, clearly trying to hold back tears as you cuddled the life out of his dog. He'd never seen you this bad. And he'd been with you through your best and worst days.

"Want to talk about it?" He asked, clearing his throat and shifting towards you a little, placing his arm on the back of the couch behind you.

"Not really." You sighed and leaned your head against his shoulder, a new development that surprised him. No matter how much you cuddled Frankie, you and him had never gone past a brief hug at the end of the night or a quick kiss on the cheek if you decided to venture out and go to a bar instead of staying in for the night.

He didn't protest to it though, instead wrapping his arm around your shoulders and pulling you closer to him so you were practically invited to snuggle into his side. An eruption of butterflies fluttered through his stomach when you let out a content hum before completely relaxing against him. Dieter decided to fully commit to the extremely friendly situation and leant his own head on top of yours, subtly inhaling the scent of your shampoo.

"Did you just sniff me?" You croaked out, half laughing.

Okay, maybe not so subtle then.

He hesitated before answering. "...No..."

You giggled which was music to his ears after seeing you so down, quietly apologising when you disturbed Frankie from her slumber with your rumbling chest. "Sorry, sweetie, sorry. Just go back to sleep. That's it. Sshhh..."

"You're so good with her." Dieter blurted out, not being able to stop his brain before the words spilt out of his mouth.

"How could I not be? She's my best girl. And the reason I'm not diving off a cliff right now. Plus she's too sweet not to love. How could anyone not be good with her?" You said the last bit in a higher pitched tone since Frankie had begun to stir again already and looked up at you with big puppy-dog eyes that made you melt in the middle.

"You'd be surprised how many people aren't so kind to her." It made Dieter's heart ache to hear you mention the desire to jump off a cliff but he didn't know how serious you were about it. "Is it really that bad?"

"What?" You sat up slightly, briefly glancing at him before you turned back to bumping your nose against Frankie's and stroking her floppy ears.

"Do you really want to dive off a cliff?" He whispered the question, almost careful as to not upset you even more.

You seemed to ponder it for a moment before shaking your head. "No. Not anymore at least. I do remember a time when it was that bad but it hasn't been that way for a while now."

"Oh, that's good." He nodded at you, not noticing the smile you gave him as you looked back at the dog on your lap. "You would come to me though, wouldn't you? If it ever did get that bad again, right?"

"Of course, Dieter." You scoffed as if it were obvious. "You're my best friend. Well, besides Frankie of course."

You both grinned at that, the two of you turning your attention to the dog in question.

"You hear that, Frankie? She loves you more than she loves me! Can you believe that? And after I've let her into my home! The audacity!" He ruffled the top of her head and tugged on her ears gently.

"Well, how could I possibly ever love someone more than I love the bestest and most adorable dog in the world? Isn't that right, Frankie? Are you the best?" You got a sniffle back in reply which you could only assume meant agreement. "Exactly. It's only logical that I love you most. Although, Dieter is a very close second."

Dieter listened to you continue to whisper nonsense to his dog, his heart picking up pace in his chest at the sight of it. His body ached with how much he loved you, the pain of it only increasing as he watched you interact with the most important thing in his life. It was almost too perfect to be real. And that's exactly what it was because it suddenly dawned on him that he didn't actually have you. You were just his neighbour. Not his girlfriend, not his fiancée, not his wife. His neighbour. And that stung.

The night passed by in a flash and soon enough you were saying your goodbyes to Frankie, peppering kisses all over her face as you collected your stuff from the floor. Dieter watched you with a feeling of emptiness in his chest. He longed to ask you to stay the night. He longed to kiss you, to ask you out on a proper date. But he knew he shouldn't. Not only had you known each other for years that it would seem strange now, but you were also his neighbour and if it didn't work out then it would lead to a very awkward relationship of polite nods in the hallway and nothing else. He couldn't risk what you already had going. Spending evenings together as you cuddled his dog would have to suffice for now.

"Thanks as always, Dieter. I still appreciate this." You said as you walked towards his front door.

"No problem. I'm always here to help... Well, Frankie is actually but you get me." He ran a hand through his hair, tugging slightly on the roots as he cursed himself for seeming so awkward suddenly.

Luckily, you just laughed him off. "Give my thanks to Frankie as well then, won't you?"

"Hmm? Oh, ahaha yes." He wanted to punch himself for being so out of it but he couldn't help it. A million thoughts were running through his mind. Every single one of them involving you. Majority of them involving you and him. "Hey, I've got an audition next week and I'm bound to fuck it up."

"I'll make sure to have something prepared, don't worry." You opened his front door and turned to look at him. "Any special requests?"

"Nah, I'm sure anything you make will be perfect." He winced at his poor attempt at flirting. When did it get so difficult?

"You flatter me, Bravo." You stood on the tip of your toes and placed a soft kiss on his cheek. "Goodnight, Dieter. Don't let the bed bugs bite."

"Goodnight." He said it in a breathy voice, almost lightheaded at the feeling of your lips against his skin.

You just smiled at him before leaving his apartment and walking down to your own, closing the door behind you on the way out. Dieter made his way back to the lounge, scooped Frankie up into his arms and walked into his bedroom. Not even bothering to brush his teeth or get changed, he collapsed on his bed, careful not to squish his dog, and switched off the lamp as he let out a loud groan.

"You get it. Don't you, Frankie? You understand why I love her so much, right?" He asked the canine but received a blank look in return making him bury his face in the pillows. "Of course you do. The two of you are practically best buds. So you understand why I feel this way about her."

Frankie didn't even make a sound in response, just crawled up the length of the bed and plopped down to cuddle into Dieter’s side before dropping off into yet another deep sleep. He looked at her with a smile before shortly following her example and falling asleep next to her.

It wasn't even a week later that you were rapidly banging on Dieter’s door again, this time with a box of cookies under one arm. You'd had another shit day at work, not as bad as the one a few days prior but still pretty awful. Since it was so soon since your last visit to Dieter's you decided to take something with you to compensate. Your most recent baking venture being an assortment of cookies you'd stress-made the night before.

You were about to start knocking again when the door opened and Dieter looked down at you with a sad expression.

"What's the matter?" You asked him before he could even invite you in.

"Frankie's not here." He whispered, clearly upset by it. "She got sick so I took her to the vet."

"Is she okay?" You were immediately worried. Frankie meant more to you than you could ever put into words and the prospect of her not being alright set you on edge.

"Yeah, she's fine. They just wanted to keep her in observation overnight just in case." He ran a hand down his face and sighed. "I assume that's why you're here. For Frankie cuddles."

He added a light tone to the end of his sentence but you could tell he wasn't as fine as he was letting on. And you couldn't blame him. His dog was sick.

"Dieter, are you okay?" You asked tentatively, tilting your head to the side in question. Despite mainly going to his place for his dog, you cared deeply for him. More than you'd ever let on. He really was your best friend and you only wanted him to be happy.

"Yeah, I'm... good." He hesitated before finishing the sentence, knowing he didn't sound the least bit convincing. "Sorry Frankie's not here to comfort you though."

"Don't worry about it. Her well-being is more important." You waved it off and suddenly remembered the box tucked under your arm. "Oh! I brought you these. Fresh from like... two this morning." You held it out to him with a warm smile, the kind that set his heart on fire.

"Thank you." He took the box from your grasp, seeming to think about something for a moment before he opened his door slightly wider. "I'm no Frankie but I'm sure I'm an okay cuddler. If you want."

He appeared shy about the offer, not surprising given he'd never suggested something like this before. It took the both of you aback about how he'd just come out and said it and not beat around the bush about it. A light blush spread across your cheeks, the skin getting hot at the idea but nonetheless you nodded your head in agreement anyway.

"I'm sure you're a great cuddler." You said before stepping past him and into his flat, thankful that you'd actually gone home first to change into some more comfortable clothes this time. As much as cuddling with Dieter sounded delightful, it would most definitely be ruined by your work attire.

Dieter followed behind you awkwardly, stunned that you'd actually agreed to come in and... cuddle with him? Was this really about to happen? If it was, he could fly over the moon with delight. He'd been dreaming about this for years. Something so simple and silly could be something so extremely significant for him, it was wonderful in his eyes.

"How'd you want to do this?" You asked, suddenly spinning around to face him. "Only I really need a hug and I'm not in the mood for discussing cuddle arrangements for ten minutes.

He was caught off guard by your abruptness, placing the box of cookies down on his coffee table. How were you supposed to do this? Dieter looked at his couch, it was too small for the two of you to properly be comfortable without practically lying on top of each other. He thought it over in his head for a moment, noticing your growing restlessness out of the corner of his eye. He didn't want to keep you waiting so he blurted out the first thing that came to mind.

"Bedroom!"

"Excuse me?" You raised your eyebrows at him, confused by the outburst. Had he just suggested going to his bedroom?

Dieter cleared his throat and repeated himself. "I think my couch is too small for the two of us so, if you're okay with it, we could go to my bedroom and use my bed instead. I swear the sheets are clean. I changed them yesterday."

You wanted to laugh at him, he was all awkward and blushy and it was a beautiful sight. But you held off on the laugh and just nodded instead. "I'd love that. Thank you."

He nodded in return, once again surprised by your easy agreement. "Right. Let's... let's go then."

"Lead the way." You gestured your arm in the direction of the short hallway leading to his bedroom. You'd never been inside, the furthest you'd ventured in his home being the bathroom. So this was all new for you. New and exciting.

He walked ahead of you to his bedroom, opening the door and allowing you to go in first. "Make yourself comfortable."

"Which side of the bed is yours?" You asked as he shut his bedroom door, glancing around his room to take it in. A couple framed pictures on the walls and books scattered on the floor really summed him up well.

"Uh... neither really. I sort of sleep in the middle. Why?" He sat on the edge of the bed, opposite to the side you were standing on.

You shrugged. "Thought it'd be easier for me to be on whichever side you don't like. Now you've made it complicated by being a middle of the bed sleeper."

He laughed and shook his head at you, amazed by your consideration for his feelings in this moment. "How about I just lay down how I normally would and you get yourself comfortable around me from that? Sound good?"

"Sounds great." You agreed, watching him crawl up the length of the bed before he collapsed against the pillows.

Dieter adjusted himself for a moment before looking at you with an expectant smile.

"Comfortable?" You asked with a slightly mocking tone, struggling to keep your adoration for him hidden.

"Extremely." He wanted to add on that he'd be even more comfortable with you next to him but refrained from it. He didn't know how far was too far. "You ready for this?"

"Extremely." You repeated back to him before sliding onto the bed beside him. The two of you hesitated for a moment, just staring at each other, before he opened his arms and gestured for you to lean against him.

"I don't bite. I swear." He said softly, giving you his most reassuring smile.

You shook your head at him playfully, finding him ridiculous. "I'm not worried about that." You sighed and fell into his embrace, the two of you immediately locking together and sinking back against the mattress.

"What are you worried about then?" He asked, trying not to freak out about how the two of you just seemed to fit together like puzzle pieces, like you were destined for one another. "You can tell me anything."

"I know." You hummed, shutting your eyes out of instinct. "I trust you more than anyone. I'm not worried just... we haven't done this before. It's new."

"Is that a bad thing?" He croaked out, worry rising in his throat that maybe you weren't as into this as he was. But how could you not be? It just seemed so perfect.

"Not at all." You fought the urge to look up at him, deciding to keep your head buried against his chest so as to not ruin the moment. "You're a great cuddler."

Dieter felt his heart whoosh through his chest and he squeezed his eyes shut. "Better than Frankie?" Better to play it off jokingly than assume anything from you or make it awkward.

"Nobody's better than Frankie." You tightened your grip around him, feeling your eyelids growing heavy. "But you're a good contender."

"Happy to be second place." He felt your breathing even out and knew that you were falling asleep. Without moving too much so as to not disturb you, he reached for the blanket at the end of his bed and tugged it over the two of you, careful not to cover your face.

Dieter listened to your soft snores for about half an hour, having you shift against him every so often but never moving too far away from him. Wondering how he got so lucky as to have you as his neighbour, he revelled in that small piece of happiness for a while before eventually falling into his own deep sleep.

The two of you were awoken the next morning by Dieter's phone ringing on the bedside table. You both groaned in annoyance at the early hour but both perked up when you saw it was the vet's calling.

"Hello?" He croaked into the phone, worry lacing his tone. You couldn't blame him. His dog was sick and the vet had called early. That didn't bode well.

Only able to hear one side of the conversation, you leant your head against Dieter's shoulder and kept a grip on his arm. Just to let him know you were there for him if he needed it.

Luckily, he didn't seem to need comforting since he let out a sigh of relief about thirty seconds into the phone call. "That's great news. Thanks. Yeah, I'll come pick her up now. Okay. Bye."

"All good?" You asked once he placed his phone back down.

"Yeah, she's fine." He smiled at you, obviously happy that Frankie was alright. "Sorry to cut this short and give you an early morning but I've got to go pick her up..."

You placed a hand on his to reassure him. "It's okay. I understand. Go bring your girl home. I'm sure she'll be thrilled to be back here."

He appeared to ponder something for a moment. "Could you come with me to pick her up?"

"Of course." You smiled at him before glancing down at your clothes. "Let me just go get changed first and then I'll be back. I'll be really quick. I promise."

"Alright." He nodded at you in return before deciding that he should probably do the same, both of you having wrinkled clothes from being in such close proximity all night.

So the two of you disappeared to your separate places to get ready before you met up again in the building's hallway, the both of you grinning like idiots at each other.

"Ready?"

"Extremely."

You drove to the vet's in silence, you could tell he was anxious about Frankie's condition so you didn't want to push him too far if he wasn't in the mood to talk. It didn't bother you too much but you were itching to talk about the night you just spent cuddling in his bed. It wasn't exactly a regular occurrence.

When you got to the surgery, you headed straight to the front desk and Dieter gave all of his information over, desperate to see his girl.

"Well, Mr Bravo, your girlfriend can go through and pick up Frankie whilst you fill out the paperwork." The receptionist offered you both a friendly smile, holding out a pen to Dieter.

"Oh, she's not my-" He started to protest but you cut him off, it was easier to just go along with it than explain your situation.

"That sounds great, thank you." You shot a look at him to tell him it was fine before turning back to the woman. "Which room is she in?"

"Just down the hall in room four."

"Thanks. I'll be back in a minute." You directed the last bit at Dieter before pushing your way through the double doors to collect Frankie.

The actor watched you go before sighing to himself and turning back to the paperwork in front of him. He groaned quietly, clicked the pen against his thigh and scribbled his signature along the bottom line.

The receptionist reached across the desk and tapped another line at the bottom. "We'll also need your girlfriend to sign the form."

He frowned and looked up at her. "Why?"

She shrugged. "It's policy. And you also put her down as an emergency contact. That is her, right?"

He nodded and read over where he'd hastily written your name the previous day as the person to contact if the vet was unable to get ahold of him. He hadn't even really thought about it, you were just the automatic choice.

Before he could think about it too much, you came back into the waiting area with a sleeping Frankie in your arms. Dieter practically melted at the sight.

"Apparently she didn't have a very good night so they gave her something to relax so she'll be very sleepy for the next few hours." You whispered to him, carefully handing her over. "Vet said she should be fine though and it was just a virus that's been going around recently. She probably caught it from another dog at the park."

"Oh, Frankster. What did those peasant dogs from the park do to you?" He hugged the dog tight to his chest and resisted the urge to cry, briefly gesturing at the reception desk. "They- uh... they need you to sign one of the forms."

"Sure." You turned back to the woman and had her point out where you needed to sign, giving a small smile to the sight of your name on the emergency contact list. Once you were done you thanked her and guided Dieter out of the surgery, letting him continue mumbling words of love to his dog. "Dieter, I'll drive, yeah? That way you can sit with Frankie on your lap."

You could tell he wasn't really listening to you but nodded anyway, too engrossed in his dog to care about anything else. It was understandable.

You managed to coax him into the car and stop holding Frankie for a second so he could put his seatbelt on.

"Dieter Bravo, put your seatbelt on right this instant or so help me god!"

"Don't Dieter Bravo me!"

After a quick minute of arguing you got him situated in his seat and went to the driver's side, speeding out of the car park as quickly as possible. The radio hummed lowly in the background as Dieter spoke to Frankie who was still asleep and unaware of what was happening around her.

"She's asleep. She can't hear you." You laughed at him, mainly because he was being so cute.

"You don't know that. You know that they say coma patients can hear you?" He didn't even glance your way, his hands travelling up and down the length of Frankie's back.

"She's not a coma patient." You continued to laugh, being careful to drive slowly so as to not get distracted. "She's a sleeping dog that's high on whatever drugs they gave her."

"Same difference." He grumbled, hiding his smile in Frankie's fur. "She's cooler than a coma patient."

"Can't argue with that one. She is the coolest dog around." You replied with a laugh. "Knew that since I first laid eyes on her."

Dieter's head snapped to look at you as he thought back to the first time you had met.

You were stumbling down the hall of your new building, desperately trying to weave in and out of the corridors and remember your way back to your apartment. You'd just had your first day at your new job and it hadn't gone as smoothly as you hoped it would. Nevertheless, you pushed through it and managed to get to the end of your shift without any serious mishaps. But now all you wanted to do was crawl into bed with a glass of wine and a book.

That would be a lot easier if you only could find your stupid apartment.

After way too long a time of searching, you finally found your new home and you let out a cheer in triumph, slapping a hand over your mouth when you realised how loud you were.

"Fuck!" You cursed to yourself when you dropped your keys, bending down with a groan to retrieve them.

"Are you okay?"

You spun around at the sound of a deep voice to see your new neighbour hanging out of his doorway with an amused smile on his face.

Embarrassed, you nodded your head and turned back to your door again. "Yep, all good."

"Really? Sounded like a lot of grunting and swearing out here. Thought you might be having sex in the hallway." He laughed to himself and then even harder when your face flushed red. "I'm Dieter by the way."

You introduced yourself and knocked on your door. "Your new neighbour."

"The one who plays loud music and has already set off the smoke alarm twice? That new neighbour?" He sent you a friendly smile that sent an eruption of butterflies rippling through your stomach.

"Yeah, sorry. Walls are thinner here than my last place. I'll be sure to turn it down and stop burning food." You wanted to curse yourself, less than a week in this place and you'd already disturbed your nice, handsome neighbour. Typical.

Dieter just shrugged at you though, obviously unfazed. "You've got good music taste so it's okay. And we've all burned food in our lives. It's understandable." He briefly turned away from you to mumble at something or someone in his flat.

You finally managed to unlock your door without Dieter's brown gaze piercing into your soul and pushed it open, throwing your bag down to the floor in annoyance. You didn't want to be rude to him but now was not the most convenient time to be making a first impression due to your sour mood.

"It was nice to meet you." You called to him before rushing into your apartment, even more embarrassed at your swift exit.

"Yeah, you too-" Dieter began to reply but your door had already slammed shut. He let out a sigh and looked down at the puppy whimpering at his feet. "What do you think, Frankster? She's cute. Awkward. But cute."

Frankie just sniffled at his ankle in response, her head suddenly snapping to look in the direction of your apartment.

He frowned at his dog. "What is it?"

That's when he heard an angry scream coming from next door.

"Fuck!"

The word was extended and loud. Loud enough that Dieter was almost positive the whole building had probably heard it. He wanted to laugh but a large part of him was concerned for your well-being. Especially when the next sounds to be heard from your place were sobs.

Uncontrollable sobs.

He debated on whether or not he should check on you, trying to decide if it was appropriate to be so worried about a neighbour he'd met once. But after about ten seconds of deliberating, he decided screw it and pushed Frankie into his flat with his foot and shut his door behind him. Dieter stood at the door of your apartment for a moment with his hand raised in a fist, once again considering if he should check on you. But his heart overtook his brain and he knocked.

When you opened the door it was clear you'd been crying. Your eyes were red and your cheeks stained with tears, yet you gave him the brightest smile you could muster. "Hey, neighbour. What's up?"

He wanted to laugh at you but held back, only letting the tiniest smile show. "Your loud exclamation of a certain word beginning with f is what's up. Are you okay?"

You opened your mouth to give him an easy lie of yeah, you were fine but moving to a new place was a little stressful. Yet the genuine look of worry in his eyes stopped you. You just shook your head at him, paired with a little shrug, not knowing what to say.

Dieter seemed to consider this for a moment. "Do you like dogs?"

"I love dogs." You let out a surprised chuckle, not knowing where that question had come from.

"Wait here." He held up a finger at you before disappearing down the hallway again. You heard his door open and close before he reappeared with the cutest puppy you'd ever seen in his arms. "This is Frankie."

"Oh." You took one look at her before bursting into tears again. This time they were happy. "Oh, she's just the sweetest. Can I hold her please?"

Dieter smiled at your politeness before handing Frankie over to you. "I find her comforting during my bad moments. Thought she could do the same for you."

You offered him a grateful smile before turning all your attention towards the puppy. "Well, aren't you the most adorable thing to ever exist. I know I only met him today but I might just have to steal you away from Dieter if I get the chance."

He watched the two of you with a smile and a pounding heart. He was already enamoured.

When you got back to your building, you opened all doors necessary for Dieter and Frankie, rushed around his apartment to collect some essential items for a sick dog and set up the most comfortable bed possible for her filled with millions of her blankets, cushions and favourite toys.

Dieter watched you walk around his place with ease, knowing where everything was and making yourself at home as you tried to set up what you thought was best for Frankie. It made him love you even more. And now with the added weight of reminiscing on your first meeting, he didn't think he could contain his feelings any longer. It was almost painful not to confess right there as he stood rooted in the middle of his lounge with you flitting around him.

Frankie was well and truly out of it, and probably wouldn't wake until the next morning, so Dieter set her down in the bed you had set up for her before he reached out an arm to stop you as you went to walk past him again.

"Calm down." He smiled at you, the same easy and kind smile that had gotten to you all those years ago. "Sit down for a second, yeah?"

"I'm trying to look after your dog, Dieter." You huffed and gestured at her sleeping form, your heart aching at the cuteness of it. "Someone's gotta be responsible around here since you couldn't stop making sad goo-goo eyes at her."

He grinned at you, thrilled by how your actions reflected how much you loved Frankie. It was one of the many things he loved about you. He brushed a strand of hair away from your face as he shook his head at you. "Wow, who thought the sad cuddler would be the responsible parent out of the two of us."

Your jaw dropped at his words whereas Dieter's just snapped shut, shocked that he'd just let that slip out.

"Parent?" You asked, mouth agape. "Frankie's parent?"

Dieter blushed and looked off to the side, trying to will away the heat in his cheeks. "Well, I guess I've almost always considered you to be Frankie's mom. You spend the most time with her aside from me. You love her a lot, possibly more than me now that I think about it." He laughed to himself and finally looked back down at you to find your eyes filling with tears. "Don't cry. Frankie's out of commission at the moment."

You shook your head at him before throwing your arms around his neck and practically jumping on him, knocking him back a few steps.

"I'm guessing that's a positive reaction then?"

"Yeah, you idiot." You mumbled into his shoulder before pulling away but leaving your arms in their place.

And just like that, tension filled the space between you. It was like the two of you were the only people in the world, just staring into each other's eyes and trying to determine whether the other was feeling the same atmosphere. After several seconds of just gazing at each other, you loosened your arms from around his neck and began to pull away, thinking he would've taken the opportunity to kiss you already if he wanted to.

Dieter's mind, on the other hand, was racing with thoughts. Should he kiss you? Was it too late already? You pulled away, did this mean you didn't want to kiss him? But you looked disappointed. Did that mean you did want to kiss him? He was so confused that he didn't know what to do, weighing up every option in his head.

"I'll-" You cleared your throat and pointed at his door. "I should go."

He didn't reply, all he knew was that he couldn't just let you leave. Not when he was so close to finally just telling you how he felt. So, instead, he placed a hand on your cheek and turned your head to face him, gave you one last look before he leaned in and kissed you, very softly. The kiss was gentle but you felt your knees almost buckle. After years of harbouring a crush on Dieter you were finally kissing him. And it was wonderful.

Once he pulled away, he looked down at you with an almost shy look, unsure of whether what he just did was okay. So he simply asked. "Is this okay?"

"I've been waiting years for you to do that." You confessed with a smile, suddenly lightheaded.

"I've been waiting years to do that." He replied with a laugh as he wrapped his arms around your waist to pull you closer to him. "Wish I'd done it sooner now that you appear to like me back."

You shook your head at him, finding it funny how he couldn't realise that you'd always felt this way. "I'm just glad you've done it now."

"Me too." He pulled you in for another kiss, the two of you breaking away into a fit of giggles when Frankie started snoring in the corner of the room.

"FYI, I only like you for your dog. She's the only appeal you have." You teased him in a desperate attempt to contain your excitement.

"Well... naturally." Dieter shrugged at you before he kissed you once again.

And just like that, the three of you were a family. A sleepy dog, a sad cuddler and a smitten actor.