#wired doorbell

[top5listing]

Arlo Essential Wired Video Doorbell - HD Video

Recommended Uses For Product - Outdoor Security,Doorbell

Brand - Arlo

Model Name - Essential Wired Video Doorbell

Connectivity Technology - Wireless

Special Feature - 2 Way Audio,HD Resolution,Night Vision,Motion Sensor

About this item

Important installation requirements - Wired doorbell and doorbell chime requires existing electrical wiring with voltage between 16V AC and 24V AC and a 10VA .

See more at your front door - Arlo's security front door camera and door security devices lets you see a person from head to toe or a package on the ground with 180-degree view.

Get a clearer picture - HD with HDR quality footage from your video door camera ensures you see the details on your devices even in low light or bright conditions.

Respond quickly - Hear and speak to visitors through your Arlo cameras for home security and apartment security with clear two way audio or respond with pre-recorded quick reply messages.

Smarter alerts, quicker action - With an Arlo Secure plan, receive smarter notifications for people, vehicles, packages, and animals so you can react quickly, right from your phone’s lock screen.

Never miss a moment - See what triggered a motion before anyone tries to ring doorbell. With Arlo Foresight, the security camera captures video prior to every motion-triggered video recording so you don't miss out.

Feel more secure seeing the complete picture - See who's there even at night with night vision from the security camera system to help you get a clear picture of who's at the door even when it's dark.

Reliable security, no matter the weather - The weather resistant outdoor camera is built and certified to withstand the heat, cold, rain, or sun.

Ward off unwanted guests - Set the built-in siren to trigger manually or automatically during an event to make your smart doorbell a great addition to your home security system.

Works seamlessly with your smart devices - This smart home camera works as Amazon Alexa device, Google home device, Apple HomeKit device and Samsung SmartThings device.

[argonphoenix]

↖️ girl who goes to the lowes electrical section when hes stressed

[primordyalsoul]

Revisted eps to look at Rei's grim apparent and it's actually worse than I remember

I ofc remembered how bare and unkept her living space was, but the whole block of flats is run down and neglected. There were broken pipes, rubbish strewn around, and there was this continuous banging sound but I don't know what the source of it is; my best guess is the pipes inside the building, or a boiler room or something. Literally such an awful place for anyone to live, let alone a kid on their own, and now I'm thinking about how she ended up there.

I think it's reasonable to assume that whatever bills are payed by NERV, so they may to have placed her there. That would ofc beg the question why they would put one of their pilots in such poor conditions but then again. When have they ever cared about the pilots wellbeing lmao. Like, M.isato took S.hinji in bc she wanted to, not bc she was ordered to, and if she hadn't S.hinji would have also lived alone. Obviously tabs are kept on the pilots to know where they are, but their upkeep outisde of NERV hq isn't of strong importance, so I actaully wouldn't be surprised if they found the cheapest place to put Rei in and called it a date.

In a later ep we see the room Rei was "born" and raised in, and it looks almost identical to the flat. Ritsuko says the image of the room must be embedded in "the water and light of her psyche", so there's also the idea that maybe Rei chose that flat because it was familiar to her! Idk which is worse; rei being so expendable and wellbeing outside of work so unimportant that she doesn't even get a decent living space, or Rei being so accustomed to a cold, laboratory environment with little enrichment that it's actually what her concept of home is.

[robbiesblogdotcom]

Wired vs. Battery Powered: Choosing the Best Ring Doorbell for You

Ring Doorbells: See Who’s There, From Anywhere In today’s world, home security is a top priority. Ring.com doorbells have become a popular choice for homeowners looking for an easy-to-use and effective way to monitor their entryway. With so many features and options available, you might wonder if a Ring doorbell is right for you. This guide will explore the benefits of Ring doorbells, different…

[havellsindia001]

Crabtree India WiFi + Wired Video Intercom Kit | Video Door Phone

Explore Crabtree India's WiFi + Wired Video Intercom Kit, a cutting-edge video door phone system for enhanced home security. This kit combines convenience with reliability, offering seamless connectivity and crystal-clear video and audio transmission. Discover advanced features and easy installation options. Buy now for peace of mind and control over your home's access.

[orbesargentina]

Google Nest Doorbell es una parte integral de la línea de productos para el hogar inteligente Google Nest. Diseñado para mejorar la seguridad de su hogar, este timbre avanzado ofrece una variedad de características y especificaciones que lo convierten en imprescindible para cualquier hogar moderno.

[seat-safety-switch]

When we were kids, we didn't have access to cool power tools. Every summer, when the soapbox derby race was coming, we'd break into my neighbour's garage while he was at work. Then, we'd use his drill press, lathe, table saw, all the fun tools. Over the course of a week, a race car was produced, which is more than the workshop ever made during the rest of the year.

Sure, we could have asked him if we could have borrowed his tools, but no doubt he would want to be there to supervise. And then he'd want to help. We'd never get done while we were busy indulging the suburb-tinged fantasies of someone who didn't take wood shop and chose instead to idly worship at the altar of Television Presents: The Fantasy of Bob Vila in adulthood.

One year, Old Man Garrett got a security system. Probably this was because Ted (fucking Ted) didn't clean up the sawdust that one time like we asked him to. The old man must have seen the footprint, and realized that he did not wear size-seven Nikes. Child thieves, casing his precious table saw! Now, our humble breaking-and-entering had become significantly more difficult than "reach a coat hanger under the door and pull the emergency release."

With the help of some of the high-school kids who were taking electronics class, we managed to defeat the security system. We did so using an ancient Japanese technique known as "distract Old Man Garrett while he's setting it, and then cut the wires to the panel." I think it loses something in translation, but you get the gist of it. That year's car was especially sweet.

In adulthood, I got drunk and bragged to some work buddies about our little scam. They responded in abject horror, because I was still occupying the weird hump in the middle of a normal distribution of "acceptable crimes." It was terrifying to them to see one of their own, one of the suburbanites, speak openly about largely-harmless property crimes. What if we had been hurt, they shrieked. Around the water cooler, I would become a pariah, unless I could make amends.

I did hunt down Old Man Garrett after that, still feeling the sting of rejection. He was still on the property, and he still had a beautiful collection of immaculate cabinet-making tools in the garage. I rang his doorbell and, when he answered, I told him the whole story. He laughed.

"I knew it was you dumb shits from the beginning," he bragged. "Fucking Ted -"

"Fucking Ted," I echoed, unconsciously.

"Fucking Ted left his library book on building race cars behind on the workbench that first year. You didn't let him drive, did you?"

I shook my head. "We ran the car into him if the hockey-stick brakes ever failed."

We had a good laugh about the whole thing that evening, and I returned to work with my soul cleansed. It's just a pity Ted didn't know how bad he actually was at crime, before he tried to knock over that liquor store and all.

[fxvfxv300]

Connecting a doorbell to an AC AdaptorTo keep your compatible Video Doorbell powered 24/7 from a standard electrical socket, you will need an AC Adaptor. It is easy to install Plug-In Adapter for Doorbells. With Plug-In Adapter for Doorbells, your Video Doorbell will workwithout the need for battery changes or professional installation.Many units work using an AC Adaptor: Ring Video Doorbell Wired, Ring Video Doorbell (2nd Generation), Video Doorbell, Ring Video Doorbell 2, Ring Video Doorbell 3, Ring Video Doorbell 3 Plus, Ring Video Doorbell 4, Ring Battery Video Doorbell Plus, Video Doorbell Pro, Video Doorbell Pro 2, Video Doorbell Wired or Ring Alarm Outdoor Siren.

[toolreview68]

The best-wired doorbell camera without subscription tools is available on the market. They have various features and it is important to choose one that suits your needs.

Ring, which is a well-known brand in home security, recently released the wireless version of their wired doorbell camera. It has many features that are similar to the one featured on this list.

[awsmart1]

5 Reasons To Get A Video Doorbell

Video Doorbells! They’ve been around for a few years now, but there are still people who haven’t heard about them. There’s no excuse for that. Video doorbells come in all shapes and sizes nowadays and can be fitted on your home from the outside or inside to suit your needs.

[odfashion1122]

Blink Video Doorbell | Two-way audio, HD video, motion and chime app alerts and Alexa enabled — wired or wire-free (Black)

Amazon Buy Now:

Answer your door no matter where you are from your smartphone with 1080p HD day and infrared night video and two-way audio.

Experience long-lasting battery life, custom alerts, privacy settings, and more.

Get alerts when motion is detected or someone presses Video Doorbell. Connect to existing doorbell wiring or pair with a Sync Module (sold separately) to engage live view and two-way audio on demand.

Choose to save and share clips in the cloud with a free 30-day trial of the Blink Subscription Plan or locally with the Sync Module 2 and USB drive (each sold separately).

Designed for every home, go wire-free or connect to doorbell wiring to also sound your existing in-home chime. Without wiring, you can use your Blink Mini camera (sold separately) as an indoor plug-in chime.

Set up yourself in minutes with the two included AA lithium batteries then connect to wifi in the app.

Works with Alexa — receive alerts and answer with two-way audio. When wired or paired with a Sync Module, just ask Alexa to answer the front door.

Includes one Video Doorbell, 2 AA 1.5V Lithium Batteries, 4 Screws, 1 Case Opening Tool. Does not include Sync Module 2 which can be found in all “Systems” above (recommended for optimal use while on battery).

[notmyneighbor]

Let Me In ~ Doppelgänger Francis Mosses/The Milkman x Female Reader

Chapter 9

Word Count ~ 5.5k

Rating ~ Explicit

CW ~ doppelgänger sex, body horror

Also available on AO3

Fanart used with permission @kaworinx on Instagram and TikTok

taglist ~ @luthien-elvenia-asher @fishfetus @gaudesstuff @nekee-lilac02 @msdevil333 @rrnrjn @maskedpacific @yoongiwantsme @that-0ne-simp @kaislashes @charli33-b33 @finalitgirl

Francis Mosses’ route is almost done for the day.

He normally started with the farthest destinations first and then worked his way backwards, finishing close to his home in the DDD sanctioned apartments.

But there had been a last minute add on, sending him back out again, further from the city and into the suburbs. He’s tired, as always, the early start to each shift, the thin walls of the building that do nothing to suppress the activities of his neighbors taking their toll. He rubs at the drowsy lids that keep insisting on shutting. Almost finished. Just this last one. Humming to keep awake. He should stop on the way home, pick up something for dinner. But that would mean delaying his return. Did he have the energy to even cook?

He’s thinking about you, the pretty young woman that guards the entrance now. The best part of his day. He should get you flowers. Say something, anything, instead of just polite formalities. Maybe today would be the day he found enough courage to express his feelings.

A little more alert now. His eyes flick to the paper on his clipboard. Yes, nearly there. He’s not familiar with this road. The houses are not as well kept. Some even look abandoned. Overgrown lawns. Broken windows. A tendril of misgiving curling around him. Something felt wrong. Maybe he should just say he couldn’t find the address. Offer up this part of the route to someone else working for the company.

But what if the person really needed it? It wasn’t fair to discriminate, was it? That sense of duty keeps his right foot pressed on the pedal. He’s going to finish the job.

He’s reached his destination. It’s difficult to see the numbers, half hidden by the weeds threatening to overtake the mailbox. At least the window panes are intact in this dwelling. Curtains cover the interior completely. The entire home is encased in shadow, darkness that seems to sap the sunlight from above.

The milkman shuts off the engine, easing out of his seat. He’s a little stiff from the long drive, the lateness of his shift. He touches one ear to a shoulder, repeating the process for the opposite side. A satisfying series of cracks. The rear compartment slides open and he lifts the wire rack from storage. The sun is strong against his back, a little perspiration making the white material of his workshirt cling to his skin. He’s suddenly craving something cold to drink. Maybe he should just invite you out. There would be enough time before curfew. Sodas at the local diner. He imagines you blushing that pretty pink shade, your hand covering your mouth. Shyly accepting his proposal.

Francis isn’t really paying attention to the cement walkway he’s traveling on that leads to the front door, ignoring the crab grass poking through the seams of each concrete slab. He doesn’t spare a glance for the peeling paint of the clapboards, the tarnish of the metal doorbell. The door creaks open and he’s got a smile on his face, his customary greeting for customers combined with thoughts of you. Just a heartbeat shy of reacting in time to who—what— waits for him in that dim interior, the hand reaching for the handle of the basket changing course at the last moment, latching onto his wrist and dragging him inside, the basket falling from his fingers, the glass shattering, spilling dairy product over the entryway.

He’s pulled off balance, thrust to one side, barely managing to keep his head from cracking against the wooden floor. Subflooring, not even a proper finished layer. No furniture inside. The home was stripped bare, except for the heavy drapes over the windows, the last illumination from outdoors disappearing from view as the door slams shut. The air is stale, musty. He feels the dust beneath his fingertips. No one has been inside here for a long time.

He’s barely started to struggle to his feet before the creature is upon him. Doppelgänger, he thinks with panic. It has to be. Hands pin his wrists down to either side of his face, his body shoved down beneath the heavy weight of the invader.

It’s not the first time he’s encountered one directly.

Once, when he was younger, he’d gotten separated from his mother at the supermarket. Not paying attention, distracted by the array of goods on the shelves, lost in whatever daydream had overtaken him, until he’d felt the hand on his wrist, the hand that didn’t belong to his parent or a concerned employee or fellow customer, but a doppel. The feeling of claws digging in. Seeking to break the skin, to draw out some blood, just the smallest amount needed to copy his appearance. The pain before an off duty DDD member had thankfully intervened had been sharp, hot, an intensity he’s still never forgotten years later.

This was not that feeling. This is like being submerged into a warm bath, but the water was sticky, cloying. It hurt, but there was something pleasurable about it as well. A kind of numbing tranquility. Pressing against becoming pressing into.

Hold still.

The command said aloud, or in the depths of his mind, he can no longer tell. One last burst of adrenaline making him struggle. The quick, disdainful flick of a claw, the alien’s true appendage, dragging across his skin. He feels the flecks of blood spattering near his collar, hears the wet collisions with the starched fabric.

“God help me…”

The only part of a plea or prayer he can muster. There was no escaping this. He can feel the thing burrowing inside of him. How was it even possible? The doppels only cloned or consumed humans. This merging was something new.

He can feel it digging around in his brain. Sifting through his thoughts.

A DDD establishment resident? Challenging.

Your face. He focuses on it in his mind, recreating each detail of every feature. The scent of you. Summer flowers.

Who’s this?

Don’t hurt her. Don’t you dare—

The numbness has worn off. It is no longer a soothing feeling. He is burning from the inside.

I won’t let you harm anyone. If you’re going to be me, then be me. You’re not going to hurt anyone ever again.

Let me in. Let me in, stop resisting.

Forgive me.

What’s happening? Changing me, I’m not…

Not one or the other. Combining.

Something new.

***

“Francis, wake up.” The doppel’s eyes fly open. A moment of disorientation and panic visible on his features until his eyes find yours in the wan morning light spilling in through the farmhouse window. “I think you were having a nightmare.”

Your hand rests against his bare chest, feeling the pounding of his heart. What would an invader dream about that would make them so afraid? Being discovered? Destroyed?

He reaches a hand to touch your cheek. “Sweetheart.”

“I’m here, love. It’s okay. You’re okay.” You kiss the corner of his mouth. He turns his face slightly and captures your lips again. Hungry. Nipping at your bottom lip. He’s turning, rolling you beneath him.

“My love. Mine.” Tasting your neck. His palm warm and heavy as it dips beneath the scooped neckline of your nightgown. He rolls your nipples between his thumb and index finger, tugging lightly, bringing them into stiff peaks. You squirm, writhing beneath his touch, the mouth of your sex watering for him. Always so ravenous. You can never get enough.

You’re not wearing panties. It’s easy for a pair of fingers to slide right into that warm, wet tunnel. Your breath hisses. He steals the next one, his mouth covering yours. Your fingers wrap around his forearm as he begins sliding the probing digits in and out.

“I want to devour you.”

“Yes, Francis, please…”

“Eat you and then fuck you,” the copycat’s voice continues low beside your ear. “You’re mine.” A growl. His tone coarser. A little more of the doppel side of him showing. Possessive. Aggressive. Acting in retaliation to something in the dream he’d felt threatened by.

“I’m yours.” Your pelvis rocks up against his hand. “It’s you that I love, that my heart belongs to.”

“What’s inside…”

“Yes, what’s inside.”

“Mine forever.”

“Forever.”

He moans against your neck. A broken, human sound. Lips trembling. Pressed gently in a line down your body, the fingers still thrusting in and out, tongue darting out to taste between the petals of your flesh, nose digging into your mound as he grinds his mouth against your clit, sucking. Your hand is now buried in his hair, your eyes watching the way the rising sun filters through the lace curtains, dappled light and shadows painting your torso, lighting threads of gold and chocolate in his hair, on the fine hairs that cover his forearms. A haze blooms around him, a shining halo, a precursor to the pink tinged eyelids, the exploring fingers now withdrawn, claws just peeking out, hinting at what lies beneath, his tongue replacing that vacancy, no longer the short one belonging to the man whose body he inhabits but something serpentine teasing inside, unfurling, squirming, reaching deep, fangs teasing the pink flesh outside, the reddened invader’s eyes asking, begging for permission.

You’re terrified, exhilarated, he’s never been there before, not when he’s like this, he’d been so careful to not let the beast out and you haven’t pushed him, it’s only been a week but it feels like so much longer and you want it, gasping an affirmation, fingers tightening in his tresses. The sensation of being so thoroughly tasted, explored, consumed as the intruder’s teeth sink, pierce, lost in that pad of fat above the start of your sex, his tongue buried inside while he sucks, drawing your bundle of nerves taut against the roof of his mouth drives you right over the precipice, the back of your skull digging into the pillows as you keen, whine, whimper, he drags every desperate sound of pleasure he can from you until you can no longer stand it, overly sensitive, overwhelmed, quaking as you see the rising face of Francis Mosses, no longer giving way to the monster inside.

His next kisses on your mouth are gentle, allowing you to recover, stroking your shoulder, carding through your hair.

“Where did you go,” you murmur, suddenly feeling languid, relaxed, your extremities tingling pleasantly in your post orgasmic state.

“You’re not afraid at all?”

“A little. But I trust you. I know you’d never hurt me.”

“It’s difficult to stop it.”

“So don’t,” you challenge.

“Oh, love, we’ve talked about this. I can’t…”

“Kiss me with that mouth. Your real one…”

“You want that?”

“I want you. I love you.”

“Sweetheart…” His tongue spears your mouth. Still human, still holding back.

You reach down, caressing his hardened cock. “What were you dreaming about? Tell me, I’ll chase them away. Won’t let anyone hurt you…”

“Hnggh…” He moans, his breath quickening. His body shifts, his erection nudging your entrance, your splayed legs tightening around him as he penetrates you, his mouth close to yours. “I was dreaming about the past. The day it happened, when I took Francis. He changed me when I went inside him. Weak body but strong mind. Faith. His feelings for you. I was terrified of being lost in that union. Sharing, merging…unmaking and rebuilding my identity. The way that feels, coming apart like that…”

You gasp and he settles his hips against yours, resting his weight there for a moment, buried inside of you. “He made me want to be him. I couldn’t resist. I’d never wanted anything so badly. Until I met you. The want I have for you, love. The sheer ache of it. I would do anything for you. Risk anything, give anything. You have become my entire world, my universe. The thought of losing you, because of a momentary slip of the reins, because of something I’ve done…I can’t bear it.”

You swallow past the lump forming in your throat. You’d asked him about Francis’ end so many times, halting after he’d stated it would be the end of your reason for he, the doppelgänger, to be with you. But that wasn’t true anymore, was it? Because you’d fallen in love with him. And you felt the same way. You’d risk anything, give anything to be with him. And now you know the truth of it. Why this doppelgänger was so different from the others. Different, because the human whose body he’d taken had irrevocably changed him. Altering his goals, his desires. Tempering the craving for annhilation. Seeking a more peaceful integration. A life with you. The milkman’s final gift.

“I know why you’re scared. I won’t try to push you. I just love you so, so much. I want you to know that.”

“Sweet girl,” he sighs. He’s blocking most of the sunlight now, his face looming above yours. “Just a little. I’ll try…”

You nod. “Let me feel you, love.”

His hips lift. Creeping out of you inch by inch. His eyes changing again. Jaw shifting, mouth evolving. A ripple across the surface of his stretched lips. Teeth parting. He’s entering you again, his cock mirroring the violation of the alien tongue now probing yours. Still gentle, cautious. Your flavor there. Closing your lips over this new shape and texture. Still muscular, smoother, thicker until it tapers at the end, coiling around yours.

Your body is on fire, your earlier release already forgotten as you roll your hips against his. A rough groan. The hand cupping the side of your waist tightens, thumb digging into your flesh. Every time his body collides with yours, the pressure against the bite he’s inflicting sends waves of pleasure through you, your swollen cunt throbbing around his prick.

You’re whining again, a needy, pitiful sound hummed around that foreign tongue invading your mouth, curling and stroking, sharp teeth dripping saliva down onto your lips, sliding over your chin and down your neck.

Then it is Francis’ mouth hovering over yours again, his soft brown eyes gazing into yours as he sheaths and withdraws over and over, a little crooked grin of triumph, pleased he’s done it, he’s maintained control.

“My bride to be, my future wife…” The words becoming temporarily incomprehensible, his face burrowing against your neck. “Forever…eternal…I am yours…” He’s looking into your eyes as he cums, filling you with hot spurts of seed, everything in that gaze begging, pleading, that this will be the time, the future he wants to conceive inside of you coming to fruition at last.

***

You’re watching Francis Mosses’ doppelgänger in the mirror.

Hair tidy, side parted, slicked into place. Dressed in a button front shirt and slacks. Freshly shaved. You love watching him get ready. The care and attention he gives the process. Wanting everything to be proper. Perfect.

“I believe I’m ready. What do you think?” He turns to face you.

“Very dapper. I’m sure everyone will be very envious when they see you leading me inside the theater.”

“I think it will be more the other way around. Beautiful,” he murmurs, admiring your dress, your lips and nails painted to match, a deep, dark shade of red. “And what is underneath this loveliness, I wonder?” His fingers tuck beneath the neckline of your dress, trying to sneak a peak at your lingerie.

“If you start that, we’re never going to make it out the door.”

“Would that really be so terrible?”

“After, Francis,” you reprimand gently. You’re not used to rejecting him. But you think it will be good for both of you to get outside, have a date together. You want him to enjoy every element of the human experience. So much of what he knows is based on war, on violence. Sometimes you yourself get so caught up in your work you forget what it is you’re struggling so hard to protect. Not just lives, but the quality of those lives. You want the best for those residents you guard.

You want the best for your fiancé, too.

***

You’re screened at the entrance of the theater.

It’s nowhere near the level of scrutiny you provide working for the DDD; the likelihood of doppels wanting to infiltrate an old movie house was very unlikely. The bored looking attendant barely glances at your ID’s before waving you through.

“That man is terrible at his job,” your beau murmurs as you enter the theater, heading towards a pair of seats near the back row. There aren’t many people present; perhaps lured by the nice weather outdoors. Enjoying a lazy Sunday afternoon. “Maybe we should have started the invasion here.”

“Francis!” He’s not speaking loudly, but you look around hurriedly. “You shouldn’t say things like that.”

“I’m only teasing, love.” He wraps an arm around you, pressing a kiss against your temple. “No one’s listening, anyway. I’m sorry. It was in poor taste,” he apologizes, seeing your persistent scowl. “Forgive me?”

You tuck your dress beneath you before taking your seat. “I’m not cross with you, I’m just worried.” You didn’t want to draw any attention. As much as you like being out in public like this with the invader, you had to keep reminding yourself that you’re still at war. He’s still seen as the enemy, and no amount of declarations of affection for you would ever convince the DDD of his innocence. It was dangerous for both of you.

“Stop worrying. You’re meant to be having fun. Relax and enjoy this,” he whispers beside your ear. “No one knows. We’re okay.”

You try to comply, willing your furrowed brow to straighten. This had been your idea, after all. He was right. No one was paying any attention to you. Everyone present was seated in front of you, all facing the curtain shrouded film screen. Your doppel’s arm curls around your shoulders and you let yourself melt against him, the tension easing. Trying to recapture some of that feeling you have when you’re together at the farmhouse, away from the city, away from prying eyes. Your own little safe haven.

At last the heavy drapes shift aside, revealing the screen beneath. The sound of murmured conversation is extinguished, the only noise the occasional rattle of a straw in a cup, fingers digging into a box of candy or bag of popcorn. You have some chocolate in your purse. You withdraw it now, thumb dragging along the paper wrapper, trying to be quiet as the film begins.

The Warner Brothers logo appears. Then there is a map overlaid with the opening credits before the focus shifts to a rotating globe. You glance at your companion. His eyes are fixed on the screen. There was the invader’s original goal, so tantalizingly out of reach, that objective shifting to a very normal life with you, pretending to be human.

You squirm a little restlessly in your seat. The copycat’s thumb strokes your shoulder. “Easy, love. It’s okay.” His breath hot by your ear. “I love you.”

The words instantly soothe you. You manage to tear the foil and extract a piece of chocolate, already starting to melt. It was warm inside the theater. You offer it to your companion, watching his features as he takes the rectangular sweet between his teeth, breaking off a section and chewing, considering. “Good. Not as good as the jam. Not as good as you, but nothing is,” he whispers, mouth pressed close to your ear again. He accepts the remainder and his tongue darts out to taste your fingers, reminding you of the previous morning, when he’d invaded you with his real one, your pussy and your mouth teased with it, the familiar warm pulse between your legs asking for more.

You struggle to return your attention to the screen, absently slotting the next piece of candy into your own mouth.

It’s different watching the film again now that you’re older, in a serious relationship. The sheer ache of the tragedy of it all. The woman thinking her husband was dead, killed trying to escape a concentration camp. Falling in love with another man. Leaving abruptly to nurse her spouse back to health after learning he’d survived. The bitter conflict of the backdrop of the world war. Meeting again. Forced to choose between both men she loved. The nightclub owner insisting she leave, promising she’d regret it if she didn’t, a famous line of dialogue that was so often quoted.

It’s impossible not to see some parallels with your own romance. Choosing between Francis and the doppelgänger. A war that encompassed the world, this one not with other nations within that globe but alien invaders. What was the greater sin, betraying your heart or betraying the human race?

You’re quiet as you leave the theater, squinting against the dazzling sun outside. Francis’ doppel offers to drive your car and you let him, staring out the passenger window, watching the brick and mortar surrender to the trees and fields you’ve been missing already.

“This melancholy concerns me.”

You turn to find the milkman’s copy staring at you, eyes darting occasionally to check the road ahead. Empty, as it so often was.

“I’m sorry. I meant to ask if you enjoyed the film.”

“I enjoyed being with you. I always do.” He focuses once more on the path, steering around a deep dip in the ground. “That’s the hole the truck struggled with,” he murmurs. You’re so accustomed to it your body runs on autopilot, maneuvering around it without even thinking. “You’re worried about us being discovered.”

You chew on your bottom lip, silently cursing yourself. “I didn’t want to ruin the experience for you.”

“You didn’t, love.” One hand leaves the steering wheel to cup your cheek.

“I don’t want to get caught. It would kill me to lose you. Absolutely destroy me. I can’t, Francis. I can’t lose you twice.”

You’re jostled as the car abruptly leaves the road, pulling into one of the fields near your house. The doppel hurriedly shifts the gears into park, cutting the engine with a rough turn of the key. He turns to you, one arm resting on the back of the bench seating. “Listen to me. You’re not going to lose me. I’m not going to let anything happen to either of us.”

“You don’t know that, though. Sooner or later someone is bound to find out.”

“Leave the DDD.”

“Francis, we’ve talked about this.”

“Leave the DDD and move in with me. Here. At the farm. Or wherever you want. Just get away from all this.”

“Francis…”

“Be with me. Please, love.” His fingers curl around the side of your neck, his lips brushing yours. “I couldn’t do it. I could never give you up like Rick did with Ilsa in the movie. You’d be safer without me, but how could I ever want that, how…”

“I love you. I’d never leave you. Never.” You kiss him, your mouth rough against his. His tongue strokes yours and the heat you’d experienced in your core earlier returns. Your fingers break through the carefully coiffed stiff strands of hair, returning them to their natural, untidy form. His fingers work on the buttons of your dress, his mouth now laving at that exposed patch of skin below your throat.

You’re so close to home, but it’s impossible to wait just those few more minutes, exiting the car, allowing your body to be pressed down into the fragrant grass. He strokes up your thigh, nudging aside the fabric draped over you, a little hum of appreciation escaping when he feels the new satin that covers you.

You’ve never owned so many pairs of lingerie, so different from the standard fare you’d worn before. You like the feel of it clinging to those intimate places, like the reaction of the doppel every time he reveals them, like unwrapping a gift, fingers shifting each piece, palming your breasts, your sex. He makes love to you under that open blue sky, in that clear air that’s just starting to turn a little cooler as the afternoon bows to evening.

Back at the house, you’re assisted in preparing dinner, steak and baked potatoes and green beans while Perry Como croons in the background.

Till the end of time

Long as stars are in the blue

Long as there's a spring, a bird to sing

I'll go on loving you

“Move in with me,” the pretender says again, drying his hands on a dish towel, then slotting his hands on your waist after you’ve finished sliding the potatoes into the oven. “I want this every night.”

Till the end of time

Long as roses bloom in May

My love for you will grow deeper

With every passing day

“After you meet my parents. Then we’ll move in together. One more week.”

Till the wells run dry

And each mountain disappears

I'll be there for you, to care for you

Through laughter and through tears

The smell of the meat sizzling in the fry pan on the stove makes your stomach growl. You’re starving. Always so ravenous, now. Working up such an appetite.

“Dance with me after dinner.”

“Yes.”

So take my heart in sweet surrender

And tenderly say that I'm

The one you love and live for

Till the end of time

After dinner, in his arms as promised, he steers you in a neat circle.

“I had a wonderful weekend with you.”

“It’s not over yet.” He kisses your neck, his hands sliding over your abdomen. “I hope…”

“I know. We’ll keep trying, love.” You want to give him a child. That fear still there. Discovery. You were never as devout as Francis had been. Would it be blasphemous to pray? To ask for help, protection, mercy for a creature that was so reviled?

He switches off the record player and the final lamp in the living room. There is now nothing but moonlight to guide you.

He settles onto the couch. You sit beside him. The ticking of the grandfather clock is loud in the sudden stillness. Your mouths collide. A different kind of hunger afflicting you now.

“You’re still hiding from me,” you chide gently, sliding a hand over one thigh, moving to the front of the fly of his pants, where the bulge fits neatly into the curve of your palm and fingers.

“About that,” he murmurs. “Partly it’s for fear of losing control.”

“You won’t,” you reassure him, sucking at his bottom lip.

“Partly because I wanted to fill you with human seed. Our best chance to make a baby.”

“And the other part?” You prompt, sensing there is still something left unsaid.

“I’m not sure if you’d like it.”

“You mean find it appealing?”

“Yes,” he admits reluctantly.

“I love every part of you.” Your hand squeezes and he sucks in his breath sharply.

“You really do, don’t you?” This said with a kind of wonder and disbelief.

“Is it really so strange? You find me attractive, and I obviously don’t look like your kind.”

“You are beyond attractive. You are gorgeous. The softness of you. That texture. The flavor…” He kisses your jaw. “I can never get enough.”

“So you can relate to that feeling of being addicted.” You’ve slowly begun to unfasten his belt, now working on the button and zipper.

“I wonder how much of that isn’t a result of the bites.”

“I think that contributes to it.”

“I didn’t know they’d have that effect.”

“It’s all new. Uncharted territory, didn’t you call it?”

He hums in agreement, the sound changing to a moan when your fingers dip beneath his briefs. “I’m tempted.”

“Do it.”

“What if you don’t like it? It would ruin things…”

“No. I want it feel it. In my hand. In my mouth. Inside of me.” He shudders against you. “I love you, my doppelgänger.”

A growl. The leash slipping. He nips at your ear lobe. “Sweetheart, if that’s what you really want, I’ll give it to you. It’s all for you…”

Heat against your hand, not the customary warmth of that reproductive organ but something else, a scalding kind of sensation. The flesh morphing, rearranging beneath your fingertips. Growing slicker. Reminiscent of his true tongue, the structure thicker at the base, narrowing at the end. Root, tentacle, something else, no word for that pulsing member you hold in the near darkness.

He’s sweating with the effort of restraining himself, tasted every time your mouth touches his, salted kisses accompanied by your hand cautiously sliding along the length, exploring, forced to stretch your arm as you caress the alien’s cock, finding the head at last not so unlike the human one, ending in a kind of domed, mushroom shaped tip. Fat, thick, it would definitely stretch you. The thought of it makes you shiver, your body drooling arousal.

“Does it feel good? I don’t know if I’m doing it right…”

“It is…” He says a word you don’t recognize, something in his native tongue. You can’t replicate it. “That’s why I didn’t tell you my name. You could never say it. Even what I just uttered isn’t quite…fuck. Right there. Oh sweet girl, you’re always so perfect for me. Sit on it, sweetheart. Let me fuck you.”

Your heart is pounding as you stand long enough to pull your dress off overhead and remove your panties, climbing over the doppel’s thighs, that foreign prick tapping impatiently against your bare stomach. His hands clutch your buttocks as you raise yourself, guiding his dick into position. Your breath saws in and out roughly. Almost panicked. But so aroused. It’s too late to stop now. You’d asked for this. You asked for this and now…oh. Inside of you. A burning stretch, like having your maidenhood taken again for the first time. A whimper escapes you. Somewhere between pleasure and pain. Blurring from one to the other. Filling you. So warm inside. You can’t possibly fit all of it in there. A sob of frustration.

“My love,” he croons soothingly. “Our bodies weren’t meant to fit together, the anatomy, you can’t…”

“I want all of it,” you say stubbornly, disappointed. Feeling like you’ve failed him somehow.

“Look at how well you’ve done, sweet girl, letting me inside…” His hand strokes over your abdomen and you mirror his movements, feeling the bulge there. “Fuck me, sweetheart. I want to make you feel good.”

Your hands grasp his shoulders as you lift yourself up, supported by his hands, some supernatural strength from the invader providing assistance. Back down again. Up and down. A rhythm building. You’re getting used to it, slowly but surely. That tender ache within you starting to evolve into something else. A coil of pleasure knots your insides.

“Tell me your name. Even if I can’t say it…to hear it…” A foreign word. “No. From your tongue. That mouth…”

“Risky, love. Can’t…” The hands holding you are shaking. “Even this is…”

“What…what is it? Tell me.” You’re properly riding his cock now, grinding yourself down as far as you’re able.

“It’s dangerous. The desire to be let out…tear free…love, it’s…I can’t stop it…”

The coil inside of you snaps, your orgasm ripping through you. There is something else, something searing hot spilling into you, the stream of it running out as he lifts your body clear of his, then cradles you against him.

“You didn’t warn me,” you chide softly when you’ve recovered, your fingers gliding curiously across the trail of slick cum streaking your thighs. “There’s so much of it.”

“Wanted it to be a surprise.”

You slap his arm playfully, then rest your forehead against his. “I told you you’d be okay.”

“Are you sore?”

“A little. It’s okay.”

“I don’t like hurting you.”

“I wanted it. I don’t regret it. I’d like to do it again sometime.”

“My love, what am I going to do with you?” He says in mock exasperation.

“Hopefully marry me.”

“Oh, that’s definitely happening. Speaking of which. We need to plan that out. The details of where and when.” He makes a little disgruntled sound. “Can we go take a bath? This is getting rather…unpleasant.”

You can’t disagree, the feeling of being so damp and sticky, the decreasing temperature and congealing nature of the ejaculate getting more and more uncomfortable to be lingering in. “Yes. Let’s go upstairs. We can plan things out while we wash up. Then it’s bed time. We both have work in the morning.”

“I love you,” he says softly. “I’m so grateful you love me. The real me. I like being called your doppelgänger,” he adds, stealing a quick kiss before you scoot off his lap, allowing him to stand. You manage to find your discarded clothing.

“Well, it’s the truth. You are mine.”

He hastily buttons the front of his pants to keep them from sliding down as he rises, reaching out to take your hand, leading you to the foot of the staircase.

“Do you have a last name?”

The doppel chuckles. “Get upstairs, you.”

“I think I’m entitled to know, seeing as how I’m going to be your wife.”

“I’ll tell you my real name. Soon.”

Another kiss in the dark, the promise of a shared secret.

[absurdthirst]

Dieter's Daughter {Dieter Bravo x F!Reader}

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 13.7k

Warnings: Dad!Dieter, mentions of drug use, unplanned pregnancies, freaking out, mentions of foster care, anxiety, lactation kink, babies, domestic bliss, falling in love, sudden marriage proposals, Dieter being a sap, adult breast feeding, oral sex (female receiving), face riding, vaginal sex, pregnancy

Comments: When a baby is dropped off on Dieter's doorstep, he is completely out of his element and doesn't know what to do. Attending a single mother support group meeting, he finds you. Begging you to become a nanny to his daughter.

Co-written with @storiesofthefandomlovers

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|| MasterList || Dieter Bravo MasterList ||

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

It takes several minutes for the sounds of the doorbell peeling insistently to break through Dieter’s nearly catatonic state. Too much booze and too many pills are the result of another day of discontent and wishing that there was something other than numbness of life for him. Leaving him grumbling when one eye pops open and he groans when the cotton mouth and headache hits him. “Go away.” He huffs, knowing that there is no way that whoever is at the damn door would hear him all the way in his bedroom. Hell, the only reason he hears the doorbell is because it’s wired to the sound system in the house. Again the bell rings and like the dead rising from the grave, Dieter drags himself out of the safety and comfort of his bed. “Fuck! I’m coming! I’m coming!” The bathrobe he had tossed down last night is put over his boxers and he shuffles towards the stairs as fast as his lethargic body can go.

When Dieter opens the door, he’s shocked to see a woman standing there holding a baby. “Can I help you?” He asks, rubbing his eyes, and she snorts.

“You don’t remember me, do you?” She asks and Dieter squints, “am I supposed to?” 

She laughs humorlessly, “I shouldn’t be surprised, you could barely remember my name that night. I was just amazed that a big actor wanted to fuck me. Remember me? That cocktail waitress from the club you took home about ten months ago?” She says and Dieter scratches his neck. 

“Listen lady, I sleep with a lot of people. It’s hard to remember them all.” He admits with zero qualms. 

“Wow. You’re a fucking asshole. Anyway, I guess the condom broke because congrats, you’re a daddy. It’s a girl. Her name is Rosie. Her birth certificate is in the bag.” She holds the baby out towards him and his eyes widen, looking down at the baby bag in the ground.

”What? I- what the fuck?” He looks bewildered before he starts to laugh. “Good one. Real funny. What do you want? Money?” He scoffs and she shakes her head, tears in her eyes. 

“No. No. I need you to take her. I can’t afford her and I- I didn’t want her. When I found out - I was fucking eight months pregnant so it was too late to get rid of her and I can’t work so I can’t pay for my place. I can’t keep her. You gotta take her. She will be better off with you.” She says and pushes the baby into Dieter’s arms. 

He scrambles to hold the baby, not wanting to drop her and the woman immediately sprints off towards her car. “Hey! Wait! You can’t just- I don’t know how to look after a baby! I need you to - hey. Where the fuck- get back here!” He yells as she squeals off of his driveway and he curses himself for not fixing the gate yet. “Shit.” He hisses. He didn’t even get her name. Looking down at the baby, he sighs and knows he has to find her mom. He can’t be a daddy. He can barely look after himself. 

No, first thing is a damn DNA test and then he’s gonna find that bitch and give her back her baby. He’s gotta call the police after he cleans up his counters from the coke powder. “Fuckkkkk.” He groans, knowing his quiet day just got a whole lot busier.

****

“If we take her, Mr. Bravo, she’s just going to go into a state home. An orphanage.” Dieter frowns and wraps his arms around his chest, nervous for having the fucking cops in his house. Paranoid they were going to find the baggie of Coke he just remembered was in the little box next to his car keys. “You are listed on the birth certificate.” 

Snatching the paper from the officer he squints at it. “How the fuck is that legal?” He demands. “That means anyone could put me down as the father of their kid.” 

The officer shuffles, clearly uncomfortable and slightly in awe of being in the actor’s presence. “That’s for the courts to decide. Look,” he lowers his voice and looks around. “I don’t think you understand how bad the system is for babies.” He tells Dieter seriously. “Just- keep the baby with you, at least until the DNA tests come back. That way you don’t have to fight to get her back when she is yours. You already said you might have slept with this woman. Stranger things have happened.” 

Dieter huffs, upset by the idea of the tiny little human being in an orphanage. Even if she doesn’t look anything like him. He had found diapers and a can of formula in the bag that the mother had left with him but that’s it. He has nothing to take care of a child. “What am I supposed to do? I don’t know shit about kids.” He demands, making the officer chuckle. 

“Hire a nanny.” The officer suggests, smirking. “Isn’t that what you Hollywood types do?”

Dieter knows he can’t just ship the kid off. She’s so tiny and vulnerable. He can’t do it, even he’s not that big of an asshole. He will call his assistant to get a nanny in today. “Listen, do you, uh, know how much formula to use?” He asks the cop who nods and walks over to the counter to show Dieter. 

“One scoop for every two ounces of water. Get baby water but bottled will have to work for today. So four ounces, two scoops. And shake. After she is finished, shift her to your shoulder and gently pat her back to get her to burp.” He says and Dieter nods. 

“How much does she need?” Dieter asks and the cop chuckles, “she’s gonna be hungry a lot. I remember mine at that age. Endless bottles. Be sure to wash them thoroughly.” He says and pats Dieter on the shoulder and makes his way towards the front door of the Sherman Oaks mansion.

“Fuck.” Dieter groans, rubbing his cheek when the police leave and the baby starts to cry. He knows she must be hungry so he fumbles to open the container, grabbing the bottle to fill it with bottled water and putting two scoops in. “I’m coming.” He says, struggling to do the bottle up, and he curses again as he walks over to carefully scoop the baby up. “How do I-?” He struggles to get her to suck on the bottle and sighs in relief when she stops wailing and gulps down the milk.

Dieter holds the baby awkwardly, trying to remember how from that role a few years ago. The baby had been a prop doll, but they had shown him how to hold it. “Your name’s Rosie, huh?” He asks, looking down at the infant. According to the birth certificate, she’s only two months old. “I’m Dieter, but you don’t talk so why am I telling you that?” He huffs, but the baby gurgles around the nipple of the bottle and it makes him grin. “Did you like that?” He asks, lifting a brow. Apparently he’s a natural with kids. 

The baby grunts and the grin immediately slides into a frown. “What’s that?” He asks, feeling something moving. “What are you doing?” Instead of sucking down the milk, the baby is grunting and straining and Dieter stares in horror as the smell starts to reach his nose. “Oh shit! You shit!” He groans in disgust.

The baby starts to cry, unhappy with a full diaper, and Dieter is reaching for his phone. 

“Hello?” His assistant answers and Dieter is panicking. 

“I need you here right now. I need help.” 

Johan, his assistant, frowns, “is that- is that a baby?” He asks and Dieter groans, “get here now. And call a nanny service!” He demands and hangs up. “What do I do?” He asks the baby, shifting to lay her down on a towel so she doesn’t get shit on his expensive rug. “I- shit. You - fuck. That’s disgusting.” He groans and pulls his phone out. “YouTube! I’ll try YouTube.” He looks up ‘how to change a diaper’ and grabs the baby bag.

Dieter watches the video, studying it intently as he keeps a hand on the baby’s stomach. “Looks easy.” He frowns at the squirming baby. “But the doll wasn’t moving.” He sets the phone down beside the bag so he can see it and bites his lip as he tries to figure out the snaps on the onesie she’s in. “Holy shit.” He huffs, amazed at how easy it unsnaps. “I need this in a fucking adult version.” Wrinkling his nose when the smell gets even worse, he groans. “Wheeeeew, God you stink.” He nearly gags and pulls his shirt up over his nose. “What did you eat?”

Trying to plug his nose, he follows the YouTube video, wiping the poop off of her skin after rolling up the dirty diaper and putting it in the diaper bag. Anyone watching would think Dieter is dealing with a bomb. He gags when he pushes the wipes into the bag after cleaning her up and he grabs the rash cream, placing some on her bottom where the video details he should. He curses the new diaper, trying to figure out what way is the front until he sees it says “back” on it and he pulls it tight on her tiny body before he clips her onesies back into place. “Shit. That - that wasn’t too bad.” He murmurs, breathing in the fresh air and she hiccups, looking up at him with wide eyes.

“You’re kind of cute.” Dieter murmurs. “In a weird, ‘you don’t look like me’ kind of way.” He frowns when she grins at him, kicking her feet. “You’re weird.” He huffs, but she just waves her arms at him and squeals. Is she his? After all this time, did he finally fuck up and procreate? His mind spins and he wishes he remembers what the woman looks like better than he does but it had been early (for him) and he had just woken up. “We will have to find you someone who knows what they are doing kiddo.”

**** 

“What did you do?” Johan accuses Dieter who shakes his head, holding the baby in his arms and he looks at her, unable to deny that she looks a little like Dieter. 

“I don’t know man. Some woman, I- Jesus. She said I fucked her and don’t even remember her. I’m waiting for the nurse to come for the DNA test.” Dieter confesses, knowing he has to be sure before he does anything.

“Oh my God, Dieter.” She rolls her eyes and immediately steps closer to the baby, unable to resist seeing her up close. “This is why you said you needed a nanny?” 

Dieter nods and rocks his body as the baby’s eyes start to drift closed. “I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing.” He huff, looking around the house that is definitely not baby proof. “I don’t have anything. I need-” He shakes his head. “I don’t know what the fuck I need. More diapers? That formula?” He nods towards the diaper bag. “She didn’t leave me shit for this baby.” He growls, pissed off at the poor planning of that woman. Who just abandons their baby with someone they didn’t know? 

“Let me make a list and we can get what we need for her.” Johan says, knowing Dieter will not know anything that he will need. 

“I need help. And stuff. Like now.” Dieter says, feeling the need to use but he can’t since he’s responsible for a fucking baby now.

Johan nods and bites his lip. “I’ve got a call into a nanny service. They are going to send someone over today.” He knows Dieter will be relieved. “Maybe she can help us with what we need.”

“Let’s get her. I need help. I- shit. I don’t even have a crib or anything. I need you to go out. Take my card and get all the baby shit from the best store there is in town.” He orders, wanting the baby to have the best even if she isn’t his. She’s cute and she deserves a good start in this world. “I need - shit - I have no idea what I’m doing. Please help me.” Dieter begs, the baby falling asleep against his chest and he looks down at her, her lips pouting as she sucks on the pacifier he found in the bag.

Johan grimaces and nods, aware that he has even less experience with babies than Dieter does. “I’ll be back.” The other man promises, quickly making his way towards the door and out of the house. He had no clue what the hell to do for his boss, he’s gotten himself in a mess this time. As much as he wants to claim he doesn’t know that baby is his, it is. Dieter Bravo is a father.

****

“It’s nice to meet you. I’ve always been such a fan of your work.” The woman gushes. Dieter can barely remember her name. Violet, Vivian, or something like that. She seems nice enough and her qualifications from the service are good. He doesn’t really know what he’s looking for in a nanny except he desperately needs help. He’s waiting on the DNA results to come in but the little baby is cute and she listens to him rambling without complaints.

Viola looks around the house and wonders how the hell Dieter Bravo became an overnight father. “You must attend parenting classes.” She insists after Dieter finally runs out of steam and shuts up. “There is one I can sign you up for. It’s for new parents and you qualify.” She chuckles, shaking her head. “They have a meeting in two days, I can see about getting you halfway set up.

“What? No. I don’t need a parenting group.” Dieter scoffs and Viola raises her eyebrows. 

“Respectful sir, I think you do.” She offers him a wry smile when the baby starts to cry in his arms. 

“I’m hopeless, aren’t I?” He sighs, trying to rock Rosie and he is struggling to calm her. 

“Here. Can I-?” Viola asks and Dieter practically shoves the baby into her arms. 

“You’re hired.” He declares when Rosie calms down and the crying stops. He can’t do this alone.

“Mr. Bravo,” Viola frowns and shakes her head. “I’m sorry if you misunderstood. I am here temporarily.” She explains. “I have already signed a contract with another family. I came today because it was an emergency.” She wonders if he had heard anything she had said when she arrived, he had looked frazzled but she thought she had been clear. 

“What? No! You seem like such a nice lady and Rosie likes you. Please. I’ll pay more. I’ll do anything to get you to stay.” He pleads, “name your price. I’ll fucking pay it. Please!” He pouts, eyes wide and pleading. 

Viola shakes her head, “I’m so sorry. I can’t get out of the contract. I’ll help you as much as I can. Johan said you need help learning the basics so I’ll show you the basics and take care of Rosie while I can but you’re going to have to learn what to do.” She says, knowing it’s going to be tough.

“I can’t do this.” Dieter wails, knowing life as he knows it is over. Without someone here, he going to fuck it up. “Please, please, you have to stay.” He begs, making Viola shake her head. 

“I am here for one week, Mr. Bravo. Then it will be up to you to find someone to help you care for Rosie. Now, let me show you how to bathe your daughter.”

****

“She’s yours.” Dieter exhales shakily as Johan announces the DNA results. 

“Shit. I- I have a daughter.” He shakes his head and looks over at Rosie who is asleep in her bassinet. “What am I gonna do?” Dieter asks as reality sets in. He has a child that he’s responsible for and Viola is only here for two more days. “She’s - she’s so tiny and I’m gonna fuck it up. She’s gonna get fucked up because of me.” He starts to panic now that reality has hit.

“You are going to go to the parenting class tonight and we are going to continue to look for a nanny.” Johan tells Dieter practically. He’s been surprised that Dieter hasn’t done as many drugs as he normally does, even smoking weed outside because of the baby. “So far all the services I’ve called don’t have anyone available until next year.” He shakes his head. “Apparently it was baby season this year.”

Dieter groans, covering his face with his hands and dragging them down his cheeks. “I have pre-production for the movie coming up in a few weeks. I can’t take her with me to a table read.” He whines and Rosie shifts in her sleep, making Dieter’s heart melt when the movement catches his attention and he looks over. “Fine. I’ll go to the parenting class. Maybe…maybe someone can help me find a nanny there.” He says, determined to find help. 

****

Dieter walks into the church hall, surprised he hasn’t burst into flames. He hasn’t been to church since he was a kid. His mama used to drag him on a Sunday and when he became famous at ten years old, he managed to bail on church because he was working. He sits down in a seat, noticing how all the other attendees are women. Rosie is asleep in her carrier for now and he has the diaper bag at his feet. “Welcome ladies and - oh. Hi, we have a new member.” An older woman smiles at Dieter, “welcome to the single mom support group.”

“Oh, uh, I thought it was-“ Dieter falters for a moment, panicking about being kicked out of the group. “I thought this was a single parent support group.” He explains, shuffling. “I just- uh, the mother of the child- my child- I just got the DNA test back, dropped her off on my door with no warning.” He rambles, trying to explain why he needs to stay. “I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing.” He confesses, nearly sounding defeated.

“It’s okay. It’s okay. You can stay.” A few of the moms recognize Dieter and he looks exhausted. Rosie had kept him up half of the night since Viola has been weaning him off of her help, and he glances around. 

“I’m sorry to - shit. I can go.” He says and you are sitting next to him. 

“No, stay. It’s okay. We are all here to help each other.” Your own son, three months old, is whining and you sigh, pulling your tank top down and unclipping your bra to breastfeed him.

Dieter’s eyes widen at the sight of your breast and he can’t deny his cock twitches a little at the idea of drinking down some milk. Shit, when did that kink happen? “I appreciate it. I have no clue what I’m doing.” He admits again and all the women laugh, “none of us do. It’s instinct and a lot of books.” One giggles, “and Google.”

“I didn’t even know.” Dieter moans, shaking his head. “It was- it was a one night stand.” He feels bad about that, not even able to tell Rosie about his relationship with her mom when she gets older. “I’m trying to hire a nanny but all of them are booked up.” He shakes his head. “I don’t want to fuck her up. She’s so tiny. Two months old.”

“What’s her name?” You ask him, looking at the little girl asleep in her carrier. 

“Rosie.” He says with a soft smile, it’s hard to not love the little girl now that he knows she’s his. He wants the best for her, even if she’s stuck with a manic mess like him. “This is Oliver.” You gesture to the baby now asleep on your breast.

Dieter smiles and tries not to notice the grunting sounds the kid is making. Feeling guilty because he knows that he would be making the exact same sounds the kid is if he was sucking down milk from your tit. “That’s nice.” He offers. 

“So what is your name?” The woman in charge smiles fondly at him and he’s surprised no one recognizes him. 

“Uh, Dieter.” He offers, curling his shoulders slightly. “Dieter Bravo.”

“Welcome Dieter.” Several of the women say to him with a smile. 

“So do you have any questions?” Julia, the group leader asks. 

“Where the fuck do I begin?” He replies dramatically, making all the women chuckle. 

“Well, we are here to help each other so might as well start.”

“So my first question. So is their shit always gonna be that black color?” Dieter shakes his head, making a face as he remembers the last diaper he had changed. 

All the women laugh. “No that won’t last for much longer since she’s three months old.” 

Dieter rolls his eyes gratefully. “Oh thank God.” He chuckles. Looking over at you again. “You said your son is two months old? Is he sleeping all night? Is that something that she has to get used to?”

You shake your head, “he isn’t sleeping through the night yet. I breastfeed so he wakes me up every couple of hours. It takes a while for them to sleep through the night. Like six months or so. Have you read any baby books?” You ask and he shakes his head. “Oh you must read - you know what. I’ll send you a list. What’s your number?” You ask and the women all giggle, making you fluster. “I mean, to help. We have babies close in age. It’s good to have help.”

“Do you need a job?” Dieter blurts out, wondering why he hadn’t thought of it before. “I mean- if your husband doesn’t mind.” He corrects himself, forgetting it was a single mother’s group. “I'm just- I’ve got to start pre-production on the next movie and it’s going to be crazy and you seem like you’re perfect. You handle your baby so easily.” His eyes are wide and pleading, begging you to say yes.

Your eyes widen, "I- um, oh wow. A job?" 

The other women all nod, telling Dieter about your history as a teacher and how you know CPR. You fluster, knowing you need a job. Your maternity leave ended two weeks ago and instead of letting you come back to work, your job had fired you. Between losing your job and your landlord chasing you up on rent, you know this is too good to turn down. "I'm not married and um, what job do you have in mind?"

“Nanny.” He jumps immediately on your question. Knowing that it’s not a ‘no’. “I’ll pay you really well and you can- can you live there? I mean, I can have odd hours and you can stay at my place. You and Oliver.” He makes sure to include your son. “I have a big house. In Sherman Oaks.” As if that would sweeten the deal. “Help me with Rosie and teach me how to be a dad. How to look after her. I don’t expect you to do it all.” He clarifies, having already gotten used to the idea of being a ‘girl dad’. He’s watched a few Tik Toks about it and it looks cool.

You know it sounds too good to be true. A job and a place to live with your son. “I think we need to sit down and talk this through properly. You don’t even know me. Don’t you wanna do a background check?” You ask, knowing you’d be doing that if you were hiring someone to live in your house. “We have a lot to discuss.” You bite your lip and look around the room to see the other moms nodding to encourage you.

“Yeah. Yeah.” Dieter nods seriously. “My agent will have that done. Plus the NDA you would have to sign.” He’s grateful you are even thinking about it. “But don’t worry. Most of the tabloid stuff is bullshit. I’m not that bad.” He promises with a quick, charming grin. “We can hammer out the details after this, right?”

“Uh, sure.” You nod and Dieter winks at you before turning back to the women, their own babies in their arms and you know this is too good an opportunity to turn down. “You wanna go get a coffee?” You ask Dieter after Oliver is in his stroller and you look at Rosie who is still asleep, unaware of her father trying to hire her a new nanny. 

“As long as it’s quiet.” He says and you frown, “uh, sure. You said you are going into pre-production so does that mean you are an actor?” You ask, unaware of if he’s famous.

Dieter stares at you for a moment, wondering if you are just trying to play coy but you are just looking at him curiously. “Yeah, uh, I am.” He admits, finding it refreshing that someone on this planet doesn’t know who he is or have any expectations of him. “I normally do two or three movies a year, depending on how long they take to film or whatever.” He struggles with the carrier and the door, holding it open for you on the other side. “Gotta get one of those.” He tells himself, eyeing your stroller.

“We can make a list of what you’ll need. I’m guessing you have the basics but there’s so much stuff.” You sigh, knowing it’s not always been in your reach but someone like him could buy it all. 

“A list sounds good. Coffee?” He suggests, gesturing to the small coffee shop down the street and you nod. 

“Sounds good. I desperately need one. He kept me up all night. He was hungry last night and wouldn’t settle unless he was against my breast.”

Dieter keeps his dirty thoughts to himself, but he doesn’t blame the kid. He would love to sleep with a nipple in his mouth too. “We will make sure to get you an extra shot of espresso.” He promises, carrying the car seat and diaper bag as he walks alongside you. “I’m being serious. About the job, I mean.” He tells you. “I have tried every nanny service in the greater L.A. area with no luck, although I’m on their waitlist.” He sighs and shuffles the carrier when his arm gets tired in one position. “I have an in-law suite you and Oliver can use, if you want a little more privacy than just sleeping upstairs.” He knows he sounds desperate, because he is desperate. Johan knows less than he does about babies and has zero interest in watching the kid while he is busy.

“Let’s sit down with the babies and then we can order.” You suggest and he nods, guiding you over to a table in the back. Rosie is waking up and he panics when she starts to cry. “Oh hello gorgeous.” You murmur, leaning down to look at his daughter and Dieter is fumbling to get the bottle from the bag to make her formula. You sigh, sensing he needs help and you unbuckle the baby, Oliver asleep as you cradle Rosie, her cries settling a little and you stand up, rocking her and you reach for the formula Dieter has, a whole damn container, and work fast on a bottle. “My sister has kids. I used to babysit them.” You explain and work fast with one hand to prepare a bottle and bring it to her lips. “Here you go sweet pea.” You coo as she starts to gulp down the milk.

“You’re really good at this.” Dieter says in awe, watching you handle things so smoothly. “I’m just-I don’t know.” He sighs, feeling bad that he’s not good at this. 

“Babies sense the emotions around them.” You tell him quietly. “You panic, she’s going to become more frantic. Just talk to her while you are getting her bottle ready. Or have one already mixed up, ready to go.” You think about all the formulas that are already bottled and just need a nipple slapped on them. “We can find a routine that works for you.”

Dieter nods, “yes. Yes. God, please take the job. I need you.” He pleads and you shift Rosie into his arms, transferring the bottle to him. 

“I’ll take the job. On one condition.” You say, sitting back down and you rock Oliver’s stroller. 

“Anything.” Dieter vows. 

“You learn too. I don’t want you to just shove her into my arms at the first sign of difficulty. She’s your daughter. You need to know how to care for her, to bond with her. You can’t just hand her off and expect me to do it all. She needs to know her daddy.”

Dieter nods, knowing that he would do that if given the opportunity. “Okay.” He agrees. “I want you to help me become better at taking care of her.” He bites his lip and looks at you. “What do you want for pay?” He asks, listing off a number that the nanny services had given him. “Does that sound okay? Plus, you’ll have full use of the house. And a card for expenses. I don’t expect you to buy the diapers or wipes or any of that shit.”

Your eyes widen, it’s way more than you were making at your old job. Your landlord has been threatening you with eviction since you’re struggling to pay, and this almost seems like fate. “Wow. I- are you sure?” You ask him and he nods, “I’m absolutely sure.” 

You swallow and offer him a soft smile, “then I’m your new nanny.” He grins and your heart thumps in your chest at how handsome he is. “There’s something you gotta know though.” You sigh and Dieter nods, waiting for you to go on. “Oliver’s father. He - he died.” You feel yourself tearing up, “we - I was only a few months pregnant when we got into the car accident.  I didn’t even know I was pregnant at the time but Ollie- he- he died. We were- we were friends, friends with benefits and we got pregnant and he- he never got to meet his son.” You choke, the grief that’s consumed you threatens to take you again. He didn’t have any family left alive so Oliver would’ve been his only family.

“I’m sorry.” Dieter frowns, unsure of how to comfort someone about a death that meaningful but he feels like he should say something. “That is rough. Hopefully- hopefully this will turn into a good arrangement.” He offers with a small shrug, realizing that things could be worse. He can’t imagine what it would be like going through this alone. “After our coffee, do you want to come over? See the house?” He asks. “I can call my agent to draw up any kind of paperwork you want.”

You nod, sniffing to stop yourself from crying about Ollie. You loved him, he was your friend, but you were never in love with him. He had his problems and you had yours. It would’ve never worked. Oliver is here now and you have to be strong for him, to keep Ollie’s memory alive. “Yes. I- this is a lot but I want to change my life. I need a change. I want to work for you.” You say as the barista takes pity on you with the babies and comes over to take your order. “I’ll have a vanilla latte please.” You order and Dieter adds, “with an extra shot of espresso.”

After taking your orders, Rosie finishes her bottle and Dieter shifts to put her up on his shoulder to burp. “Hang on, you need a spit rag.” You insist, digging in your own diaper bag to produce one. 

“Huh,” Dieter huffs, “I just thought I was supposed to wear her puke until she stopped doing that.” He jokes, the stains on his shirt only partly from his daughter. 

“No, you always carry multiple burp clothes and changes of clothes, for both of you.” You tell him with a smile.

He nods, mentally taking notes. He has so much to learn from you to make sure his daughter is well looked after. He doesn’t want to fail at being a father. He wants her to know he did everything he could to be a good daddy. He knows you will be good for Rosie, for him too. He sips his coffee and watches you with Oliver, rocking his stroller, and he can see you’re a good mom. He feels comfortable with you. “Do you wanna come back to my place?” Dieter asks, realizing that’s the first time he’s asked that question without it being for sex or drugs

You bite your lip and look up at the frazzled, yet handsome man who is offering you a dream situation. A place to live and the ability to stay at home with your son while still earning money. You don’t know if you would ever get a better offer. “Yes.” You agree. “I’ll follow you? Maybe you can text me the address in case we get separated?” You want to look it up really quickly, just to make sure it’s a real place.

He nods, taking your number to text you his address. He is anxious for you to see the house, hoping you love it and it helps to get you to take the job. You strap Oliver into his car seat while Dieter does the same to Rosie and soon enough, you’re driving to his house.

“I, uh, I’ll ask the housekeeper to come in more than once a week.” Dieter offers, climbing out of his car as you do the same. He doesn’t want you to think that it’s all going to fall on you. “Oh, Johan told me about a diaper delivery service. All natural diapers? That’s better, right?” He asks, anxious about doing the right thing. He had read about the chemicals used in the nappies he currently has.

You smile at his anxiety, wanting the best for Rosie, and you know he’s going to be a good daddy once he gets his feet under him. “Johan?” You ask and Dieter nods, “my assistant. He’s - he is my lifeline.” Dieter confesses and you nod, understanding he lives a completely different life to you. He needs an assistant to manage his schedule. You take Oliver out of the car in his carrier and follow Dieter into the house, your eyes wide at the gorgeous home he owns. “This is - wow.” You exhale as you enter the grand property.

“Thank you.” Dieter shows you the bottom floor and opens the door to his study. “I have all this shit I don’t know what it’s for.” The room is filled with boxes of toys and jumpers, cribs and carriers. Johan had gone overboard but Dieter had wanted to make sure that he had everything he needed. Your eyes widen and he blushes, “I was trying my best.” 

You nod, understating he has struggled since Rosie was dropped on his doorstep. “We can get everything set up. Does she have a nursery?” You ask and he shakes his head, “she’s been in my room. I- I haven’t really slept. I’ve been trying to watch her sleep in case, you know.” 

You understand, knowing you stay awake watching Oliver breathing. It’s a lot of anxiety being a first time parent. “We will get her nursery set up and then you can keep her in your room if you want but then she has somewhere to nap and call her own.” You smile and rub his shoulder after you set Oliver down in his carrier, he’s asleep. “It’s gonna be fine.” You promise him, glancing around the beautiful living room. “It’s gonna need some baby proofing and, uh, that needs to go.” You gesture to the powder packet on the counter.

“Oh, I, uh-“ Dieter rushes forward and grabs the packet to sweep it off the counter and into his pocket. “I haven’t- that’ll be put away.” He promises, cursing himself for leaving it out. He hadn’t taken any lately, not since Rosie arrived because he’s too fucking scared of something happening to her while he’s bombed. “Sorry.” He hopes you don’t decide to leave him high and dry because of that. “Do you want to see the rooms you and Oliver could have?” He asks desperately.

You stop him, “I- I am taking the job but you won’t do drugs in this house with the babies. If something happened or they got hold of it - I couldn’t - no drugs in this house. Period. You wanna go get high somewhere else? Fine. But your daughter comes first, you understand?” You ask him, knowing you won’t risk your own son around that kind of bullshit.

Immediately nodding, Dieter understands what you are saying. “I haven’t- not since she’s arrived.” He confesses. “I’ve been too scared to even try in case something happens.” He’s not stupid enough to think he won’t do drugs anymore but he does want to be there for his daughter.

You nod, knowing it’s not ideal but it will have to do. As long as they aren’t kept in the house and he doesn’t do them around the children, it’s his business. You are just his employee. “Okay.” You pat his shoulder and he guides you to the guest suite. “Dieter…this is…wow.” You gasp at the massive room, “this is - this is a lot. Are you sure - there’s no other room you want me to have?” You ask, knowing this room is the size of your apartment.

“You need room for you and Oliver.” He shrugs, not wanting to say that he doesn’t have guests unless it was someone from a party. And he doubts he’s having those here anymore. “This way you have privacy and your own bathroom.” He knows that is important and figured this would be perfect. “And using another room for Oliver is okay too.” He doesn’t want to suggest the nursery can be shared, but he wouldn’t mind. “Will this work?”

You smile, reaching out to pat his arm, “this is more than enough, Dieter. It’s perfect.” You promise and he grins, pleased that you are happy. He sighs when Rosie starts to cry and Oliver follows suit, both babies waking up. “Come on daddy, let’s go feed the babies.”

He feels more confident with you beside him. Even if it’s just your presence reminding him that he should test the bottle on the inside of his wrist before popping the nipple in Rosie’s mouth while Oliver is greedily suckling at your breast for his own meal. “That wasn’t too bad.” He grins down at his daughter, eyes wide but slowly starting to close as she gulps down the bottle. “How often do you have to feed Oliver?” He asks, trying to keep his eyes on your face respectfully. You aren’t giving him a show.

“About every one and a half to two hours. Depends on when he’s hungry. He lets me know.” You chuckle and watch your son as his gulps turn into suckles which lead to him falling asleep against your breast. “It’s - it’s exhausting but he’s worth it.” You smile at Dieter who is rocking Rosie. “You’re getting better already. We will make a list of everything we need for you and, um, I guess I better go and pack.” You smile bashfully, knowing this is a big move but it’s what’s best for you and Oliver.

“Why don’t we hire someone to pack you?” Dieter asks with a frown. You have your hands full and he knows that it will take a lot to take care of your son and try to pack. “I’ll pay for it. I don’t mind. That way we can get the nursery set up.”

“Are you sure? I- I don’t know if you’re gonna find someone so late notice. I don’t have much. And I will need Oliver’s crib and -” 

You don’t get to finish because Dieter is pulling out his phone to call Johan and arrange for your things to be moved today. “Whatever it costs.” Dieter says and you swallow, knowing Dieter has more money than you could imagine if he can waste it like that. 

“Thank you.” You tell him, cradling Oliver who is fast asleep.

“It’s nothing.” Dieter waves away the thanks and looks down at Rosie as she finishes the last of her bottle. “Okay little girl, let’s get you to burp, and then maybe a nap?” He asks, grinning. “She has the manliest burps.” He brags, astounded that something so small could make such a racket. “I have the other cradle thingy if you want to lay your son down.”

“The bassinet?” You smirk and he shrugs one shoulder, “I’m still learning.” You nod and let him guide you to the bassinet and you carefully lay Oliver down before adjusting your shirt after clipping your nursing bra. Rosie burps and you giggle softly, liking how proud Dieter is of her and you watch him lay her down in the cradle next to Oliver. “Maybe they will be best friends.” You whisper, leaning closer to him.

“That would be cool.” Dieter imagines it, his own childhood lonely and isolated. There were times he had wished desperately for a built-in friend. “Let’s get out of here before we wake them up.” He has learned that Rosie is cranky if she gets woken up before she’s ready and he doesn’t blame her, he’s the same way. Maybe she got it from him. “So, uh, since there’s two kids….just, um, we’re gonna need that double stroller thingy, right?” Dieter asks as he walks down the hall with you. “And can you show me that carrier thing? The one you have the baby wrapped to your body? That looks cool. Oh, and uh, the diapers. The service, when we get that set up, use it for Oliver too.” He adds. “No need to have two different types of diapers, right?”

You nod, realizing it’s best not to argue. “Let’s leave them to sleep and we can work on getting the nursery set up. I- I really appreciate this opportunity, Dieter.” You tell him and lean in to kiss his cheek. He blushes as you set your phone up as a makeshift baby monitor, calling his phone, and you leave the babies to sleep. Dieter follows you, his eyes dropping down to your ass, and he curses internally when he realizes he finds you hot. 

****

“Dieter!” You call out, trying to find your boss. Oliver and Rosie are having tummy time on the play mat and you need your breast pump. It’s been a couple of months since you moved in with Dieter to become his full time nanny and it’s been surprisingly nice. Rosie is a good girl and you’ve grown to fall in love with her, making sure her and Oliver get equal treatment. “Can you get my pump?” You ask when he doesn’t respond.

“Yeah!” Dieter reluctantly lets go of his cock and tucks it away in his dress slacks. He had been trying to tug one out before he had to go to court, formally getting custody of his daughter. Nervous and not able to get high, jerking off had become even more of a habit than before now he had started thinking about you while he was doing it. You’re so fucking pretty and kind. Looking like an angel as you take care of his daughter. Dieter knows that he’s falling in love with you but he can’t do anything about it. Not willing to risk you leaving and denying Rosie the best nanny in the world. Washing his hands quickly, he rushes to the kitchen to grab the pump where you had cleaned it last night while he sterilized bottles. “Here it is.”

You thank him, breasts aching and you attach the suction, not thinking about Dieter as you sigh in relief at the milk finally being pumped. “Shit. That feels good.” You groan, the whooshing of the machine pumping and you have been pumping enough for Rosie to have milk too. It’s been a lot but you love the babies. “What time do you have to leave?” You ask Dieter, catching him staring at your tits and you hate that it thrills you. He’s so sexy, unintentionally so, and goofy as hell. He’s good with his daughter and you’ve grown close, raising the babies together, and you know it’s getting harder and harder to deny how you feel every day.

“Oh, uh, I gotta leave in twenty minutes.” His cock is still hard in his trousers and he twitches at the groan you make. Every day you pump, having no modesty around him now and you shouldn’t - it’s natural but Dieter still thinks it’s sexy. “I’m nervous.” He admits, glancing over at Rosie as she squeals and waves her arms on her tummy. “I know that my lawyer said it’s a formality, but what if the judge doesn’t like me? What if he takes Rosie from me?”

You shake your head and reach for his hand, squeezing it. “I promise you, it’s gonna be fine, D. You’re a good daddy and that will be shown. I know your past hasn’t been ideal but you got this. You’re a good man, Rosie is lucky to have you. We all are. It’s gonna be fine. I promise you.” You offer him a soft smile and squeeze his hand again.

“I’m more nervous than the night I won my Oscar.” Dieter confesses with a nervous chuckle. He doesn’t tell you that he was high, sure that you could guess that, although he has done anything more than hit his weed pen since you’ve moved in. Rosie is surprisingly therapeutic, although he’s glad she doesn’t understand what he talks about during the nights he gets up with her. The movie is almost halfway done shooting and he’s going to make sure that once he’s done, you get a week off so you can veg for more than a night. He looks down at your joined hands and smiles. “I’ll call you when I get out, okay?” He asks, and you nod, letting go of him. “And eat that kale and beet salad in the fridge”, he throws over his shoulder as he rushes towards the door. “It’s supposed to help the milk supply.”

You roll your eyes playfully, looking back at the babies. “Daddy is silly, isn’t he?” You talk to Rosie and look at Oliver, saddened that he isn’t going to know his father. You wonder what Ollie would think of Dieter. They are similar in a lot of ways but Ollie was always practical, making sure you weren’t in a relationship because of his strenuous job as a firefighter. He didn’t want you to be one of those women sitting around waiting for him. You sigh and wonder what you are going to do about Dieter. It’s too comfortable with him. 

****

“Dinner’s ready!” You call out. The babies are now six and seven months old. Sitting in their baby bouncers, watching you setting the dinner out for Dieter. He’s finished filming and you want to celebrate. The nice bottle of wine on the table alongside his favorite pasta.

“Oh my god, you spoil me.” Dieter groans as he comes into the dining room, freshly showered and in comfortable clothes. Rosie squeals happily and so does Oliver, both of them in their high chairs. Dieter grins leaning in and blowing a raspberry on his daughter’s cheek and then on your son’s. He never thought he was a kid type of person, but his playfulness extends to your son. He’s a good kid and it would not be right when you are so good with Rosie if he ignored the little guy. It makes him imagine that the four of you are a family, a real one and he was coming home from work to all of you. “You didn’t have to do this.”

You shake your head, enjoying the way his hand finds your waist as you reach for the parmesan on the counter. You turn to face him, cupping his cheek, “you just finished filming. You deserve a treat.” You smile, caressing his cheek and your eyes dip down to his lips for a second. He stares at you and you clear your throat, lowering your hand, “let’s eat. You must be starving.” You set the cheese down and glance over at the babies, you fed them while dinner was cooking so now you and Dieter can enjoy your meal.

“How was your day?” He’s finding that this, fatherhood and responsibility, is grounding for him. Not just concentrating on his whims and trolling through boredom. Every day is different and challenging with kids, especially when he’s trying to make sure that none of his own parents' mistakes affect Rosie. “The kids were okay?” He asks, pouring more wine into each of your glasses. You hum in protest but Dieter shakes his head. “Just pump and dump. You deserve more than one glass.” He huffs.

You sigh but let him pour some more wine, it’s been stressful with the babies today. “Rosie decided to throw up all over Oliver and herself so both of them needed a bath and then Oliver managed to get his diaper off in his onesie so he needed another bath and then Rosie wouldn’t stop crying because Oliver wasn’t next to her. It’s been - it’s been a day.” You sigh and Dieter nods, reaching for your hand. It feels so normal, like you’re complaining to your husband about your hectic day over wine and you look up at Dieter, “I love them both so much but today was…it was a lot.”

“I can imagine.” Dieter squeezes your hand gently and once again thinks that it’s odd that you don’t feel like his employee. You feel like his wife, although he’s never kissed you, or touched you like he’s imagined. “Let me take both the kids tonight.” He offers. “I’ve got the next week off before I have to do all the press bullshit for the other movie coming out in two weeks. Why don’t you take a little vacation? A spa or something?” His parenting skills have improved drastically and there have been times where he’s watched Oliver for you. Like when you had to go for another postpartum checkup.

You groan, letting go of his hand so you can continue eating. “I won’t lie…a massage sounds good. My back has been killing me.” You confess, twirling the pasta around your fork and you bite your lip, wondering what a massage from him would be like with his hands. “I wouldn’t mind going to the mall. I need some new clothes that aren't leggings.” You chuckle, “and I need some new underwear.” You sigh before you chew on the pasta.

Dieter’s cock twitches at the thought of your underwear. Not that he sees them. You’ve taken over doing the laundry even though he offered to have someone come in. Or he could help. Insisting that it was no problem. Johan had even commented that you made his house seem like a real home, and Dieter couldn’t deny that. “You could do all that.” He promises. “I’ll watch the kids. I want to spend some time with R and O.”

You feel guilty leaving the kids behind but you trust Dieter, something you never thought you’d say, but he has proven himself to be an amazing father. You smile, “thanks baby.” You tell him and he swallows the wine down. It’s getting harder to deny how you feel. After finishing eating, Dieter helps you clean up while you have the babies in the play pen. “Bedtime for the bubbies.” You coo, picking up Rosie and kissing her hair. “Daddy is gonna change you, baby girl.” You slide her into Dieter’s arms and pick up Oliver.

“Why don’t you go take your own bath?” Dieter offers, grinning down at Rosie. “You’ve had them all day and you said it’s been rough. Go take a bubble bath. I can get them ready for bed.” He’s made huge strides as a father, as a caretaker and now that he’s more confident, he finds he likes it. Kids are fun. And easy to learn how to please. “I can rock them both and get them settled.”

“Are you sure?” You ask, trusting him but you want him to be comfortable. 

“I am for this.” He promises and you nod, “you got this. I- I can feed O before they get to sleep.” You say and he shakes his head. 

“No. I got it.” He promises, knowing he can warm up your milk. 

You lean in to kiss the babies’ heads, “goodnight my loves. I love you so much.” You say to them and you look up at Dieter, offering him a grateful smile. You make your way into the bathroom, sighing in relief when you sink into the tub.

Dieter hums to the babies as he warms up their last bottles of the night. Changed and in clean onesies, they are ready for that last bottle. Smirking to himself as he tests the breast milk on his wrist and barely resists licking it. He wants to try it, but he feels like that might be crossing a line. Getting both of the babies settled in each arm and they can hold their own bottle now with a little help. “You two are like twins, you know that?” He coos at both of them, settling in the rocker on the nursery while they eat. Watching their eyes grow heavier as they suck. You had both decided to keep them in the same nursery, letting them bond and it has worked out so much better than he had ever hoped. He loves Oliver like Rosie and when they fall asleep at the same time, he’s grinning as he holds them for a little longer before shifting to put them to sleep in the same crib. They cried if they were separated, curling up together during the night as if they were twins.

You sigh, relaxing in the hot water until you decide to get out and say goodnight to the babies. You shrug your robe on, tying it as you make your way to the nursery as Dieter leans over the crib. “They asleep?” You whisper and he nods. You caress their heads, loving how they are asleep together, keeping each other safe. Sometimes you see them holding hands in the night. It’s adorable. You rest your head on Dieter’s shoulder as you watch them for another moment and he turns his head to kiss your hair. It makes your heart pound and you pull away, letting the babies sleep with the white noise machine running.

Dieter’s hands seem to be twitchy as you walk out of the nursery in front of him. He knows that you are only dressed in a robe and he wants nothing more than to strip you out of it and touch you. Make you shake in pleasure. “Do you want to have a drink?” Dieter asks. “Or are you calling it a night?”

“A drink sounds good. Relax after a long day.” You smile, walking into the kitchen to open the second bottle of wine you’d bought earlier. You work fast to open it, pouring a glass and handing it to him before you settle on the sofa. “You wanna continue watching that show on HBO?” You ask, knowing he hates it when you watch an episode without him.

“Yes!” Dieter lights up and he narrows his eyes at you playfully. “You better not have already watched it.” He threatens playfully, handing you the remote. He likes when you relax and loves that you feel completely at home here. It is your home. He leans towards you and takes a sip of the wine. “What do you think is gonna happen, this episode? The previews looked good.”

You nod, shifting closer towards him. “I promise you. I haven’t seen it yet.” You assure him and have another sip of your wine. You love and hate how relaxed you are, how easy this is. How real it feels. Like you’re a proper family. The baby monitor is on the coffee table and you rest your head on Dieter’s shoulder as he presses play. You barely watch the show, too focused on the way Dieter feels pressed against you.

About halfway through the show Dieter shuffles, throwing his arm around the backside of the couch and around you. Letting you slide down against him more. You pull the throw blanket over your legs and he smiles, wondering how you are always cold but it’s a cute quirk he’s noticed.

You snuggle into his side, hand finding his chest and you caress the skin under the shirt he always has half buttoned. He sighs and you breathe him in, pleased to feel his heart thumping under your touch. This intimacy, it’s what keeps you satisfied when you yearn for more but you can’t risk it. Your job. Your home. Your life is connected to his and you can’t afford to mess it up. 

“Marry me.” Dieter says and you think you misheard him. 

“What?” You ask, not moving. 

“Marry me.” He repeats and you jerk back from his side so you can look him in the eyes. 

“What- did you just ask me to marry you?”

“I did.” Dieter nods, turning towards you and reaching for your hand. “I love you. I love how you make this house feel like a home. I love how you care for Rosie and I love Oliver.” He adds. “I love coming home to you and I want this-“ he motions around the house and between the two of you. “To be real. I want to touch you, kiss you. Make love to you.” Dieter isn’t a man who talks in terms like ‘making love’ but that’s exactly what it would be. “I think you love me too, don’t you? I know you do.”

You shake your head, wanting to tell him you love him. He’s crazy, he leaves his socks everywhere and he has so many holes in his shirts but he’s kind and whacky and so damn funny. You love him, you’re in love with him, but to marry him would be a bad idea. You can’t risk this life you’ve created together. “Dieter.” You sigh, pulling your hand out of his. “We can’t. We can’t risk the babies. We - if it all went wrong, then I’d be moving out with Oliver and Rosie loses him and vice versa. If it all went wrong, I’d be homeless and I wouldn’t have anything. I can’t risk that for my son. I can’t. I’m sorry.”

His heart breaks but he’s determined to convince you this is a good thing. Latching onto what you said about being homeless, his eyes widen. “I’ll buy you a house.” He bursts out. “In your name alone. It’ll be yours. Completely.” He nods to himself, grinning like an idiot and picks up your hand again. “It won’t go wrong, you’re perfect and I love you. I want to be with you and our babies all the time and fuck, I want another baby when you’re ready.” He missed everything about Rosie’s birth and he wants to see your stomach large with a baby, his baby. “But if it did-“ he stresses the word ‘if’, “-you would have a house for you and Oliver. And you could rent it out right now. The money would be yours. Totally yours.”

Your eyes widen and you shake your head, “I can’t - that’s too much. A house here is insane. That’s a crazy amount to put into this. That - a whole damn house? That’s what you want to do?” You ask incredulously and he nods. 

“All I know is that I can’t stop thinking about you. I need you. I love you.” He promises and you swallow harshly, tears stinging in your eyes. 

Your heart yearns for him yet your head tells you it’s too much of a risk. “Dieter…” You trail off and he frowns, pulling away slightly, sensing your rejection. “I love you.” Your eyes water and a sob escapes your lips as you start to cry. No one has ever been so kind to you. To know he loves you enough to buy a house so you feel secure in case something goes wrong. It has you sobbing.

He lunges forward, crushing you to him in a comforting hug. “Don’t cry baby, please don’t cry. I never want you to cry.” He pleads, sure that he’s messed up somehow. “I’m sorry, I just can’t stop wanting you. Seeing you with our babies, I think- I wish they were ours. Our twins and we had them together.” He rubs your back and pets your hair as you sob into his chest and he tries to think of how he could make you feel better.

You sob into his chest at his words, wishing they were true but it’s not and that’s okay. The babies brought you together and you know you and Dieter would’ve never met if it weren’t for that single moms group. “I - I love you.” You offer him a watery smile as you pull back and he reaches out to gently wipe your tears away. “I love you and I want you to be mine. I want to be yours. I love you Dieter.” You confess, cupping his cheeks.

Dieter’s smile is slow, soft and he can’t believe that you are saying yes. He leans in and presses his lips to yours softly. Loving how you immediately open for him to slide his tongue against yours with a groan. Pulling you close against him again, this time shamelessly pressing his body against yours. “I love you.” He promises, kissing down your jaw line. “Do you want to have sex with me? Or do you want to wait?” He wants you in his bed, but if you wanted to wait until the deed to the house was in your hands, he would understand that. He would go out tomorrow and buy you the best house he could find.

You know you’ve spent far too much time thinking about him, having him inside of you, pressing against you, and you know you should slow down but you can’t. “I want you. I don’t want to wait. I want you now.” You tell him breathlessly and you press your lips to his, cupping his cheek while you slide your tongue against his.

Groaning, Dieter pulls you closer and starts to lean you back against the sofa, knowing that he needs to take you to bed but right now, he needs to feel you under him. “So beautiful.” He praises, kissing your chin and nips your skin with his teeth.

You sigh, loving how it feels to have him touch you. His hand sliding along your thigh and you whimper, “Dieter. Please. I want you to touch me.” You plead, guiding his hand to the tie of your robe while your hands caress his chest under his ratty t-shirt.

He hums, twitching against your hip and he leans back and grins at you, “I’m going to, baby. I’m going to make sure you know exactly what you are getting from me.” He pulls your robe open and groans at the sight of your tits. Looking back up at you. “Can I taste?” He asks. “I’ve dreamed of tasting your milk.”

Your cunt clenches around nothing at the thought. “You’ve imagined it?” You ask breathlessly and he nods so you move fast to straddle him, his cock hard against your thigh, and you lean in towards him to kiss him as you shrug your robe off of your shoulders. “You can have a taste.”

He knows your tits are tender, hearing you complain and watching as you sometimes have to massage them. He cups them in his hands, groaning at how full they are, grinning. “Fuck, I can drink it all since you were going to dump it.” He realizes as he leans forward to wrap his lips around one nipple.”

“Oh shit.” You gasp, groaning softly at the relief and arousal coursing through you. You love it. Tangling your fingers in his hair, you watch him gulp down your milk and you’re amazed that he enjoys it. “Oh God baby.” You pant, feeling the relief of your milk draining and the way he sucks on your nipple, biting it now and then.

“Shit.” He gasps, feeling his cock throbbing. “It’s better than I expected.” He moans, switching to your other breasts and he knows this will become a favorite thing for him now. One hand slides down between your thighs and he is so fucking happy to find you wet.

“Dieter. Please.” You beg, needing more from him. It’s been so long since someone touched you. Not since Ollie. You rock down onto his fingers, loving how he rubs your clit while his lips suckle on your other breast. “Oh fuck, D. So good.” You whimper, caressing his shoulders.

“What do you want, baby?” He pulls off your nipple with a pop. “You want me to eat your pussy?” He groans at the thought. “Want to sit on Dieter’s face? Smother me with your cunt?”

You giggle breathlessly, “that’s the only way to shut you up?” You tease and he nods, “one of the few ways.” 

You laugh and he moves fast to shift, laying down and he pulls you over to hover over his face. “Shit baby. So good to me.” You gasp when he drags you down on top of his face.

The first taste is always amazing. Sliding his tongue though your folds as he pulls your hips down onto his mouth. Holding you there as he licks and then sucks on your clit.

You whimper, “baby. Oh baby.” You moan, grinding down onto his face. “So good. So fucking good.” You moan, loving how enthusiastic he is and he squeezes your ass, encouraging you to move. You do, rocking your hips down even more.

He doesn’t care that you two are on the couch or that he is throbbing in his pants. All he cares about is making you moan his name. He knows he will slide inside you as soon as you cum for him. He moans against your clit, loving how you are smothering him just like he wanted you to. Using him for your pleasure.

“Fuck. Fuck. It’s so good, baby.” You pant, lost in the pleasure of his mouth on you. You rock on top of his mouth, his nose pressing against your clit as his tongue pushes deep. “Fuck baby. Yes. Yes. Yes. Keep - keep going.” You beg, moaning his name.

He can’t breathe, but he doesn’t care. Too busy licking into you to feel your walls start to convulse around his tongue. Moaning when the first rush if your juices hit his mouth and your moan of his name almost makes him cum in his pants. Digging his fingers into your hips, Dieter doubles down on making you shriek his name.

You throw your head back as he makes you cum, moaning his name as you clamp down around his tongue. “Fuck baby. Fuck. I- I love you.” You whine when he works you through it and you whimper, lifting off of him when it becomes too much.

Panting like he was the one who had cum, Dieter licks his lips, completely pussy drunk as he caresses your side. Enjoying the boneless way you collapse on top of him as you try to catch your breath. “I love you. Fuck, you’re my new favorite meal.”

You inhale deeply, shifting off of him and you waste no time in tugging his shirt off of him. “Baby. I want to see all of you.” You tell him, tossing the ragged shirt away and you pull his sweats down to expose his cock. “Holy - that’s what you got?” Your eyes are wide at the girth and you wrap your fingers around him.

Dieter groans, bucking his hips and biting his lip in pleasure. “Fuck, is that not enough?” He gasps out. Normally women have no issue with his size but maybe your Ollie was hung like a horse.

“Not enough? Dieter, baby, I’m gonna feel you tomorrow.” You assure him, “I’m gonna need - wow. You might have to get some lube.” You admit and you start to pump him, in awe that your fingers don’t touch. You know it’s been so long since you’ve had sex and he is thick. You’ve always preferred girth over length anyway. “You’re big.” You promise him, leaning in to flick your tongue over the leaking slit.

He preens at your praise, eyes rolling back in his head at the feel of your tongue. “I’ve got lube.” He promises, reaching down and cradling your jaw. “Use it all the time, jerking off thinking about you.” He’s not ashamed of masturbating while thinking of you. “Baby let's go to the bedroom. You can ride me if you want more control.”

You want to suck his cock but you know you’ll have plenty of time to do that later. Right now, you need him inside of you. Releasing his cock, you pick up the baby monitor and stand up, smirking as you make your way to his bedroom. He’s scrambling to get his sweatpants off and you disappear down the hall, throwing over your shoulder, “don’t keep me waiting, Bravo.”

“Shit.” He hisses, eager to chase after you. Noticing that you are headed to his bedroom and not your own. “I’m coming baby, fuck.” He watches your ass shake as you sway your hips. “Gonna buy you the biggest fucking house I can find.”

You giggle, setting the monitor down on the nightstand and you gasp when Dieter’s hands grab your hips, pulling you back into him. You quickly spin and wrap your arms around his neck, pressing your lips to his. “I love you.” You murmur against his mouth, his hard cock pressing into your stomach.

“I love you too.” Dieter moans softly, sliding his hands down and squeezing your ass. “Do you- do you need me to wear a condom?” He asks, sure that you aren’t wanting to get pregnant so soon after having your son. It wasn’t like you two had discussed birth control.

“No. I- I got an IUD put in. Figured they might as well do it while I was there and it wasn’t painful. I’m clean too. Not been with anyone since Ollie.” You promise and wonder if he’s clean. You don’t know when he slept with someone last. Maybe after you arrived. You don’t know. It’s not like it was your business when you were just his nanny.

He nods. “I uh, I haven’t been with anyone since Rosie has shown up. I’m clean.” He promises, eager to slide inside you and feel you without a barrier. “I didn’t want to do that kind to shit around her. Give her a good example. Don’t want her to be like me.”

You cup his cheeks, “you’re a good father and she’s gonna be just fine. You’re doing a good job.” You remind him, leaning in to kiss along his jaw. “Come on baby, you want me to ride you?” You ask and he nods. You let go of him and he walks over to his nightstand to grab the lube while you kneel on the bed. When he’s laying down, you grab the bottle and squirt some into your hand, wrapping your fingers around his cock to coat him before you swipe your fingers through your folds to make sure you’re slick enough. “Fuck, you’re gonna stretch me out.” You tell him as you straddle him.

“Want to see it.” Dieter pants, chest heaving as he watches you position his cock at your entrance. Moaning your name as you start to sink down on him, he can feel his entire body light up in pleasure at the hot clutch of your cunt. “I love you. I fucking love you.” Dieter cries, his fingers digging into your thighs as you slowly take him deeper, watching your mouth drop open and loving the way you moan his name.

Your eyes close as you slowly sink down onto him. He’s so thick, it stings, but you like that. It’s been so long since you had sex and this is the man you love. Your heart pounds in your chest as your thighs meet his, his cock fully inside of you, and his fingers sink into your flesh. “Shit. Shit. Shit.” He grunts and you giggle, leaning down to kiss along his jaw. “I fucking love you too.” You murmur, licking along his neck until you are biting his earlobe so you can give yourself a moment to adjust to him.

He whines, unable to stop himself from lurching up in pleasure. “Oh did you like that?” You giggle breathlessly, making him moan and turn his head so you can do it again. 

“More baby, fuck. Want you to mark me up.” He begs, so starved for attention that he needs to drown in it. His hand squeezes your ass again and it takes concentration to not urge you to move, your walls fluttering so deliciously around him.

You love how desperate he is for you. Biting down on his earlobe again and his cock twitches inside of you. You take pity, finally feeling comfortable, and you shift, rocking on his cock while you nibble on his ear, whispering “you’re mine. I’m gonna make sure everyone sees it.” You smirk as you kiss down his neck, sucking and biting on his skin.

“Fuck yes, I’m yours, I’m yours.” Dieter chants, rocking his hips up to chase your cunt when you lift off of him. Hating even the brief few seconds where he’s not buried inside your warmth. “All yours baby.” He groans, closing his eyes at the pure bliss of being able to touch you, to tell you what he’s thinking without worrying about offending you. “Gonna marry you. Give you everything.” He gasps out.

You moan, “I’m yours too. Been yours since I moved into this house. I’m gonna be your wife.” You promise and he groans, hands caressing your back. You kiss his collarbone and shift back, making his cock sink deeper and you grab his hands to help you balance as you ride his cock. “Fuck. Yes. God, so good. So good inside of me.” You ramble, squeezing his hands as you start to pick up the pace.

“God, fuck, your pussy is gold.” His toes curl and he loves how you start to bounce on his cock. Making your tits away heavily and he watches with them unabashed lust. “So fucking gorgeous.” He pants. “Can’t wait to see you pregnant, riding my cock.”

“One day.” You promise with a grin, breathless from how good this feels. You let go of his hands, leaning back to grab his knees, and you grind down onto his cock, hitting just the right spot to make you gasp. “Fuck, baby. Oh my - I’m - it’s gonna make me cum.” You confess, reaching down to rub your clit.

Dieter frowns and slaps your hand away, pouting up at you. “Let me.” He insists, pressing his thumb to your clit and rubbing a tight circle over the bundle of nerves while you bounce on his cock. “Fuck baby, cum, please cum. I’m gonna -“ he hisses. “Not gonna last. Too fucking tight.” Your walls clenching down around him every other bounce is getting to be too much and he grits his teeth, praying he lasts long enough for you to soak his cock.”

Your moans are getting breathier as you struggle to breathe from the pleasure. “Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Dieter. I’m gonna - oh!” You moan, clamping down on his cock and soaking him, his thumb still working your clit until your thighs are shaking. “Cum for me.” You beg breathlessly, wanting to feel it as you convulse on top of him from your orgasm.

You don’t have to say anything else. His entire body is aching to cum, gripping your hips harshly as he starts to thrust wildly up into your body. “Oh shit, oh shit, oh shiiiiiiiiiit.” Dieter whines, burying his cock half a dozen more times before his back is bowing and he is crying out your name, filling you with hot spurts of his seed.

You pant, collapsing onto his chest as his cock twitches inside of you, and you kiss along his neck. Unable to speak, you enjoy the aftermath of your orgasms. The connection you feel to Dieter has you on cloud nine. He’s a good father and a good man, despite what the paps print. He’s changed for his child and that makes you love him more. “Good?” You ask breathlessly, hoping he enjoyed it as much as you did.

“So fucking good.” Dieter’s eyes are closed and his expression is one of pure relaxation. Enjoying the way you feel on top of him. “God, you’re spending the night right here. Every night from now on.” He slides a hand up and down your back, enjoying the feeling of your slick skin under his palm. “Now we just need the kids to sleep through the night.”

“Soon. They are getting better. And you want another one to keep us awake?” You tease, giggling when his cock twitches inside of you. 

“I do.” He promises and you caress his cheek, leaning back to look into his eyes. “Me too. One day.” You lean in to softly kiss his lips, knowing you want this man to be your husband, to be everything. **** 

“Diet, babe. Can you get me that - shit.” You hiss after you feel the baby kick your ribcage. 

“Bad word mama.” Rosie points at you and you nod, “sorry, love. Mama needs to sit down.” You tell the three year old. Ollie comes over to sit down on the sofa next to you, his small hand on your belly as he leans in to talk to the baby in your belly. Rosie follows suit, wanting to do what her brother is doing. 

“Hello baby. It’s me. Your big brother-” 

“and sister.” Rosie adds as she leans in to press her ear to your stomach. You smile, tears in your eyes and look up to see Dieter walk into the living room. 

“You called baby?” He asks, paint splattered all over him from painting the new nursery. 

“Yeah. I’m sorry. Can you- can you get me some ice cream?” You bite your lip, knowing he’s been run ragged with your cravings.

Dieter grins, shoving his hand through his paint flecked hair, although he teases that the gray is because of you and the babies. “What kind of ice cream do you want, babe?” He strides over and rubs your bump before dropping a kiss on your lips. “Rocky road or are you wanting that cheesecake strawberry swirl?” He knows you will probably text him with more cravings, but he doesn’t mind. You are carrying his baby and you get what you want.

You smile at him, loving how flustered he looks when he has to go get your cravings, and you run your fingers over the kids’ heads before they look up at Dieter. 

“Can we have ice cream, daddy?” Rosie asks, that pout she definitely got from Dieter on her face. 

Oliver nods, “yes! Vanilla.” 

Rosie shakes her head, “chocolate!” 

You giggle and look at your husband, “I’ll have rocky road. Guess it’s an ice cream day.” You say and the kids cheer, excited to have ice cream.

“Vanilla, chocolate and rocky road.” Dieter nods, smiling down at the kids. He could never deny them much and while they would be considered spoiled, they were very well behaved. “Oh-“ he snaps his fingers. “Before I forget. The management agency called. They found another renter for the house and said that the repairs for the house were minimal, just paint to freshen up.” 

True to his word, he had bought you a house, deeded it in your name and hired a management company to handle the day to day issues and repairs. All of the profits were deposited into a bank account that was solely yours, even though you had access to everything of Dieter’s. “So that’s a weight off before the baby comes.”

The money going into that bank account is going to pay for the kids’ college. You won’t use it for yourself, not when you are happily married to Dieter. “Yes. Glad they managed to find another tenant.” You smile, reaching for his hand to kiss the back of it. 

“Daddy!” Oliver rushes over to him after shifting off of the sofa. 

“Yeah, buddy?” Dieter groans as he bends over to pick him up. 

“Can I come? To get ice cream?” He asks and Dieter nods, “of course.” You smile, loving how close Oliver and Dieter are. You adopted Rosie and he adopted Oliver not long after you were married. It felt natural and meant to be. Your little family, complicated but perfect. 

“We will be right back. Rosie, you wanna come?” Dieter asks and she shakes her head, climbing onto the sofa. 

“I wanna stay with mommy.” You pull her close, “we can watch our show while the boys are out.” You tell her in a playful whisper and she grins. 

“We will be back soon.” Dieter promises and you smirk at him, “after ice cream, the kids need to nap. Mommy needs ‘nap time’ too.” You say to Dieter and he smirks back at you, “what mommy wants, mommy gets.” He promises, knowing he wants you to moan his name while the kids are asleep. From Rosie getting shoved into his arms on a random day, to having a family with a baby on the way. Dieter never imagined being a family man but now, he wouldn’t have it any other way.

[strawberryspence]

PART 1

Eddie did not know what to do. It was one mistake, made in a dimly lit bar, and he honestly doesn’t even remember the guy’s name. Was it John? Jeremy? Jason? It was one guy, he never even flirts anymore but Steve looked so good that night that it hurt. Hurt so bad he needed someone to temporarily fill that gaping hole in his heart. Because how can Steve Harrington ever want him in any way?

His mother, Cecilia Munson, used to call him sweetheart at the softest times of the day, sunlight dancing through their rooms, just for the two of them. He remembers being nine, young, sharp edged from his father, wondering why anyone would look at him and call him sweetheart, not when he hot wires cars and pick locks. His mother smiles sweetly at him, explaining, “You, Eddie Munson, have the kindest and biggest heart. I call you sweetheart because I love you.”

Of course, Eddie’s in love with Steve. Of course, he calls Steve sweetheart because he loves him. How can anyone not fall in love with him? He calls Steve sweetheart because its true. Steve is a sweetheart. Steve’s sweet with the biggest kindest heart he’s ever seen on anyone. Sure, he wasn’t the best in high school, but he’s proven that he’s better now time and time again.

He gets a visit from Dustin two days after the bar incident, pounding at his door like a hurricane. When he finally opens the door, Dustin’s red faced with anger, “You’re fucking lucky I love you or I would’ve bought Erica Sinclair with me.”

Before he can even ask what’s happening, Dustin’s listing the ways Erica can hide a body, never to be found again. Eddie sighs. The group knows now, of course, they would. News spreads like wild fire with the kids. It’s because of those damn walkies they have (he can’t begrudge them for it when it once aided in saving his ass.)

“How did you find out?”

“Jonathan.”

“Jonathan?!”

Dustin shrugs, “He’s got vendetta against you now. I don’t know dude, they’ve always had a weird friendship. Max thinks they were a throuple at some point, Lucas thinks they’ve got a thing going on just the two of them and Will won’t say anything.”

Jesus Christ, Eddie’s not one for jealousy but there’s something green cruising through his veins right now and he hates it with a burning passion. He needs Dustin to leave so he can scream into a pillow, or maybe sob in the shower.

“Why are you here?”

“I am here to make sure you fix this shit you fucked.”

Eddie looks up at him with surprise as Dustin crossed his arms, eyebrows raised, “Everyone knows Steve’s the biggest sweetheart. He may hide it with his big hair or his sarcasm, but we all know. If you do like him, which you do, you dumb ass. You have to fix this, Eddie. I haven’t seen Steve this upset before and I was there when Nancy dumped him.”

Eddie blanches at the statement, it tears straight to his heart at the fact that he made his sweetheart upset. God, he's an idiot.

The next morning Eddie goes into mission mode with a bouquet of daisies in one hand and a bag of cookies he bought from the bakery on the other as he arrives at the Harrington’s mansion. He’s gonna fix this today, come hell or high water.

Robin answers the door and Eddie’s sure he’s never seen her look more feral and that’s saying a lot when they've fought a magical evil wizard together. Robin’s looking at him like she’ll gauge his eyes out if he makes a wrong move, which he deserves.

Eddie asks for Steve and before he can finish the door is shut to his face. Well, he deserves that too. So he knocks again, ringing the doorbell as annoyingly as he can.

Robin opens again, nostrils flaring, “What do you want Munson? If you’re here to make my best friend cry again, I am asking you to leave now.”

“Robin, I just want to talk to him. I want to apologize. I made a mistake and I want to fix that mistake.”

“Then what? You're gonna go calling him sweetheart again without strings attached?”

“You know that’s not what it is. You know, Robin.”

And she does know. She knows about Eddie’s feelings for her best friend and the fear of not being good enough for Steve. Robin’s afraid no one will ever be good enough for her Steve but before the bar incident, she thought Eddie’s the closest thing to good enough.

For a second, Eddie can see Robin soften, then she shakes her head, “No.” Robin says, her back straightening.

Robin’s about to close the door again when Steve comes into view. A blanket draped over his shoulders, hair messy, glasses askew. If it was any other situation Eddie might’ve swooned at how soft he looks like but he’s eyes are red rimmed from crying and Eddie hates himself even more.

“Let him in, Rob.” Robin stands solid at the doorway, not moving. Steve looks at her wearily, “Robin.” They have another one of their silent conversations, before Robin gives up, “Fine.” She leaves the door open before marching up the stairs to give them privacy.

Eddie hands him the daisies and the cookies, Steve smiling down at it before inviting him into the living room with a small smile.

“I am sorry.” They both blurt out at the same time. Eddie’s not even sure to why Steve’s apologizing. Steve then goes on a tangent about how sorry he is for making the assumption that the name sweetheart is only for him and that it meant something more. It wasn’t Eddie’s fault, it was his and his only. He says it’s okay and he didn’t deserve Eddie in the first place and he wasn’t that special. Every word just crushes Eddie even more. How can Steve think he doesn’t deserve Eddie? Him of all the people?

Eddie can’t do anything but scoop him up in his arms, trying his best to give him the best hug in the world as he apologizes for his mistake. Eddie assures him that he is Eddie’s only sweetheart and Steve didn’t make anything up in his head. Eddie tells him he is in love with him, and Steve tears up but at least there's a big smile on his face.

Then and there, Eddie makes the decision to show Steve the love he deserves, to woo him off his ass. Eddie loves him, through and through, and Steve’s always gonna be his sweetheart and if in 50 years they don’t end up together, Eddie will never call anyone else sweetheart, because that’s for Steve, his nail bat yielding, bad ass, sweetheart.

They don’t kiss. Content with just being in each others arms, knowing their true feelings for each other. (Also because Eddie feels like he needs to earn it) Robin goes down when it gets too quiet, and when she sees them in the couch she smiles sweetly at the image of the two of them tangled together.

She walks up on them, “I am so glad you two made up.” Eddie’s smiling up at her when Robin’s fist hits his nose.

“ROBIN!!!” Steve’s clutching him, he’s pretty sure his nose is bleeding and when Eddie looks up, Robin’s holding her fist like it hurt her to punch, but she’s grinning the biggest grin Eddie’s ever seen on her face.

“Again, I am glad you two made up. I love you both very much. But if I you make him cry again, that’s not the only thing I am breaking.” Robin smiles before kissing their heads and heading to the kitchen to get him an ice pack.

They look at each other before promptly bursting into laughter as Steve tries to wipe his bleeding nose with his own hand.

Eddie does woo Steve. On the third date Eddie planned for them, Steve finally kisses him. They’re in his car and Eddie’s rambling about his new campaign and how the kids loved it. Steve kisses him mid-way the conversation. The kiss itself, Eddie thinks, is just as sweet as Steve. Steve holds him like he’s the best thing in this universe and like it’s a privilege to be kissing him, rather than the other way around.

Eddie does not stop wooing Steve. He picks him flowers in random fields, takes him on dates, makes him dinner, leaves tiny notes on his bathroom mirror, (he also woos him amazingly in bed), packs him lunches, makes him mixtapes, burns CDs, and, three decades later, playlists.

They’re 40, Steve found his first grey hair yesterday and Eddie’s knees hurt more often that it should. But Eddie still calls Steve sweetheart. Their kids cringe at their parents and their vintage pet name for each other, but their smiles don’t hide the fact that they adore their parents love.

Steve knows he’s special, because Eddie Munson calls him sweetheart for the rest of their lives.

Eddie knows he deserves this life, this love, because Steve Harrington loves him.

[fuckyeahdindjarin]

omg okay so I’ve been trying to think of something appropriately AMAZING to ask you for your celebration so I raise you: 💬 Put Joel and Pin situation… DOUBLE DENIM JOEL (like him for actors and actors) she finds him a jacket? and she tailors it for him…. PLEASEEEE

I love you 🩷 so happy to be your friend

Double Denim

Seams sleepover micro drabble request | 825 words | warnings: none other than that a confident Joel is a sexy Joel, double denim menace | can be read independently of the series but is part of the Seams universe

Joel stares at his closet, stumped.

He says closet, but it’s more of a glorified wire rack mounted onto the wall next to his bed. And while his collection of clothes has grown from what he crossed the country with, it’s not much more than a bunch of shirts, jeans and underwear. It’s enough that he always has something to reach for when he rolls out of bed - usually unwashed and crumpled - but hey, who’s judging?

But now, for the first time in longer than he can remember, Joel doesn’t know what to wear.

He could go for the jeans he was wearing yesterday, his nicest pair, but he got paint on it right on the crotch thanks to a clumsy manoeuvre, of all places. And he could wear that (marginally) smarter red plaid shirt that he knows you like, except there’s a stain on the front that he never managed to get rid of completely.

It’s just not good enough.

Joel shakes his head in disbelief. This is absurd. He’s a fifty-three year old man fretting about what to wear in the middle of the fucking apocalypse. 

What’s probably even more absurd is the fact that it’s movie night in Jackson. He’s taking you to see Casablanca, and then to dinner afterwards.

And he wants to look nice for the occasion. 

For you.

There’s only one thing to do.

You look up from the shirt you’re ironing when the doorbell rings over him at the Outfitter, and you smile. ‘Hey, what are you doing here?’

He gives you a peck on the lips. ‘Hello, sweetheart. I uh - I wanted to buy some clothes.’

‘Oh, did something break?’ you ask, setting down the iron and giving him a once over.

‘No, I just - wanted somethin’ new.’

Joel smiles at the quizzical look on your face, always so open and expressive despite your shyness. He knows his answer comes as a surprise to you, as it did to him.

He watches as your mouth parts with a grin, excitement in your eyes. ‘Never thought I’d see the day. Joel Miller partaking in some clothes shopping?’

He winks. ‘Who said you can’t teach an old dog new tricks?’

‘Alright, so, what were you thinking?’

‘Some nice jeans, and a nice jacket - maybe,’ he adds with a touch of uncertainty.

You don’t look like you expected that answer, and you tease him in reply, ‘Nice jeans and a nice jacket? Whatever for?’

Instead of answering straight away, he reaches for your hand and pulls you close. The sweet gasp that escapes you makes his heart swell with possessiveness, and he dips to brush his words against your lips. 

‘For you, sweetheart.’

You duck your head, more from habit than actual coyness, and you curl your fingers into the fabric of his shirt to keep him flush against you. ‘Are you trying to romance me, sir?’

‘I might just be, ma’am,’ he answers with an insolent grin. ‘If that gets me a discount.’

Rolling your eyes, you jokingly push him away and instruct him to wait here, before disappearing into the back of the shop.

Joel is browsing the jeans rack when you return, your hands full. At the questioning arch of his eyebrow, you explain, ‘Someone brought these in the other day, and I thought they’d fit you.’

‘Settin’ clothes aside for me? What would Maria say?’ he tuts, shaking out the jeans and the shirt with a skeptical look. ‘Denim on denim?’

You feign exasperation, pushing him towards the dressing room. ‘Just try them on, you insufferable man!’

It’s deja vu as you wait, hearing him disrobe on the other side of the curtain, and you cross your arms and try not to tap your foot, impatiently, excitedly -

When the curtain snaps back, you can’t help but stare.

Joel cocks his head to one side, a lopsided smile at his lips. ‘Well?’

A parody of your first meeting months ago, you parrot the same words back at him. ‘What do you think?’

He turns on his heels to face the mirror, pulling on the lapels of the denim jacket, perfect for mild autumnal evenings that don’t warrant his winter coat, but are a touch too cold to venture outside in just a shirt. The mid blue wash matches that of the jeans, comfortably mid-rise and straight cut, with the cuff upturned at the ankle of his brown boots. Without even thinking about it, hands in the pockets of the jacket, he twists around to check out his ass in his reflection, as unashamedly as you are.

Unlike that first time, Joel doesn’t need any prompting to answer your question. 

‘I look fuckin’ good, sweetheart.’

With a grin, you slide your hands around his waist, down his ass, and into the back pockets of his jeans, biting your lip when you watch his eyes darken at your boldness, while you preen in the easy confidence that fits him even better than these jeans.

‘Hell yeah, you do.’

Note: Thank you for this super cute prompt @undercoverpena! I tweaked it a little bit, but I hope you enjoyed it nonetheless ❤️ AND I've been dying to put Joel in this ensemble, thank you for making my dreams come true 😘

[a-lilypad]

@jegulus-microfic | march 31: body hair | 876 words

regulus calls the fire station when a strange burn mark appears in his house and fireman james comes to investigate (cw: mentions of sex and someone nearly gets set on fire but doesn't get hurt)

Barty is laughing. Regulus is in the middle of a crisis and Barty has the nerve to laugh at him. He knows he must look ridiculous, pulling at his plaid pyjama bottoms, zipping and unzipping his ratty hoodie, and adjusting his hair using every reflective surface in his house, but how was he meant to know the local firemen had become hot? 

He’d called the fire station earlier in the day after finding a mysterious hole burned into his downstairs carpet. Stumbling downstairs in a desperate search for coffee at 7 am he’d spotted it from the corner of his eye. It was quite small and in an odd place, just in front of a cupboard he barely used, and it looked almost as if some acid had corroded his floor.

Regulus had hounded Barty, his best friend and current roommate, but Barty swore it wasn’t him. Though he didn’t quite believe him, it was too big to be a cigarette burn which did, annoyingly, put the blame on something else.

However, what that something is he still has no clue, and it’s been driving him a bit insane. He had sat in front of the hole cradling his massive mug of coffee with his chin resting on his knees just..glaring at it. For hours, until he’d been dragged away from it and forced onto the sofa instead.

The fire brigade had taken forever to get there, he’d thought they’d forgotten him and was about to phone them again (third time’s a charm) when the doorbell echoed and he jumped up, tripping over his feet in the rush to get to the door while flipping Barty off for laughing at his urgency. 

He’d yanked the door open, flushed and breathing heavier than normal and proceeded to immediately choke on his words because the man standing in his doorway was the fittest person he had ever had the pleasure of seeing.

Messy brown hair, big hazel eyes framed by gold wire, and soft rosy lips. His brain short-circuited and all he could think of was what those lips would look like wrapped around him. He was screwed.

Now the hot fireman (James, he’d learned), is on his hands and knees inspecting the floor, and Regulus is lost for words. He’s pretty sure he’s drooling actually. His arse….dear lord. You could end world hunger with it. Regulus wants nothing more than to dig his teeth into it. Maybe take a chunk out of it and bring it with him wherever he goes as a reminder that the world is a beautiful and wonderful place.

James chooses that exact moment to sit up and take off his jacket, revealing the sluttiest shirt he’s ever seen. This uniform should be fucking illegal. It’s so tight that Regulus can see every single curve, every dimple, every line of the man’s body, it barely fits him, he is bursting out of it, the material squeezing the top of his arms. He wonders how the seams haven't burst yet.

His arms. Wow.

They’re huge and covered in black ink, two full sleeves of intricate patterns and whenever he moves they flex, golden brown skin glinting in the light. He’s definitely drooling now. Barty has to lean over and shut his mouth for him. 

“So, James is it?” Barty says, smirking, and Regulus has never turned his head so fast, glaring at his soon-to-be ex-best friend, right eye twitching. He wouldn’t fucking dare…oh who was he kidding of course he would, he lives to make Regulus’ life a living hell. He should have kicked Barty out the minute James got here.

James hums in affirmation as he goes back to probing the hole in the carpet. Regulus wishes that was him. 

He can see Barty’s smug smile and his eyes twinkling and starts slowly approaching, moving into hitting distance. “You got a girlfriend? Or a boyfriend of course, there’s just no way a hot guy like you is singl-ow fuck!” he breaks off as Regulus elbows him sharply in the side while hissing at him to shut up.

James turns around with a cocked eyebrow, smiling, and lets out a chuckle, “Nope, no girlfriend,” then looks straight at Regulus, gazing deep into his soul as if he’s searching for something, “or boyfriend,” and he winks. HE WINKS. Regulus cannot handle this man he feels a bit faint.

As he flops down on the sofa he sees James stretching, his arms reaching above his head looking like some form of God, his shirt lifting and revealing a strip of soft skin and a line of thick black hair leading down and down and down…his eyes follow it, he’s unable to look away. Regulus loves a guy with body hair, but happy trails have always sent him crazy.

He picks up a pillow and holds it over his crotch hoping he’s being subtle, but by Barty’s sudden cackle, he guesses not so much. Although he doesn’t have to worry about it for long as James goes back to poking around, chuckling a bit under his breath until a huge fucking white spark bursts from his floor effectively stopping the laughter but also setting his carpet on fire.

Huh. That’s probably not a good sign.