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deadhumourist · 1 year

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Hospital Pass

Pairing: Dieter Bravo x F!Reader

Rating: Explicit - Minors DNI.

Word count: 3800+

Warnings: No physical description of reader, no use of Y/N, hospitals, nudity, condoms, mention of bras, mention of drugs and a dead person, crying, inappropriate use of hospital property, non-explicit m/m action, reader given nickname. No Muppets were harmed during the writing of the fic.

A/N: This is a sort-of-sequel to the crackfic Bravo Juliett - the interviewer mentioned is the one from that story. And the Reader character is the PR person managing the interviews, so we see Bravo Juliett going down from an outsider perspective. The warnings sound hectic but the fic is basically crack comedy and fluff.

A huge thank you to @just-here-for-the-moment who beta'd and provided valuable input <3

Author Masterlist | Taglist in my bio

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You eye the entrance to the balcony, seeing interviewers in various states of boredom. How were there still so many? You'd been filing them in like sardines since 9am and it feels like malicious compliance from the AI of a video game. It just keeps spawning new ones.

As the PR assistant, your job is to pluck ‘em out, sit' em down and kick ‘em out once their ten minutes are up. It’s pretty much rote at this point, on day three of interviews.

If you have to stand around like glorified furniture you are glad it’s on the balcony of Cliveden House. The sprawling estate’s U shape embraces a perfectly manicured lawn that stretches to the very edge of a forest. You imagine some poor soul needing to take to the greenery with tweezers, plucking unruly blades of grass out so that everything is just so.

For the duration of the film and its promotion, the cast, crew and external support (so, you) are housed at the estate. You would be lying if you said you don’t enjoy the impeccable breakfasts and crisp heel-click style hospitality of the staff.

The late afternoon sun casts a very flattering glow on Dieter as he sits in the comfortable chair. He’s tanned and every time he turns his head slightly the sunlight catches his curls. Even the douchebag way his sunglasses are perched low on his nose can’t make him look bad.

With him looking at the interviewer, you have a chance to let your eyes rest on his features for a few more minutes. Apart from being incredibly attractive, he has a good command of charm offensives for when he needs them. His eyes say “bedroom” but his earring says “you’ll regret this the second you roll off my dick and you won’t talk to anyone about it until years later.”

His voice drifts over to where you’re sitting some distance away with your colleague Tanya.

“There are cliffs…..and there are beasts….for the 6th time.”

You turn your head to her.

“This is a great example of being technically correct but…fuuuck he’s insufferable.” you sighed.

She rolls her eyes.

“Wouldn’t you be sick of the same questions after seven hours? Give the guy a break.”

Your eyes move back to him.

“No, I refuse. He…I mean….who dresses like that? My god, with that gross coat he has, it looks like he’s wearing Rowlf the Muppet.” you quip drily.

Tanya snorts into her cappuccino, sending a little foam over the rim of the paper cup.

Dieter suddenly sits upright, studying the reporter in front of him with renewed interest. You know that look.

You walk over and motion to her, tapping an imaginary watch on your wrist.

She nervously gets up, never taking her eyes off him, and he pulls his assistant closer to whisper something in their ear. You turn to the doorway of infinite interviewers and don’t follow her as she slinks out of sight. The assistant catches up with her and the smile the dazzling smile that spreads across her face as he delivers his message is telling.

Like clockwork, another interviewer minion spawns and you wave them through. After that you lose track, but it must be almost forty minutes later that Dieter gets up out of his chair, spectacularly fake-yawns and declares the day of interviews over.

Seeing as it’s already after 4pm, you tend to agree with him, but you would rather be waterboarded than be nice to him in public.

He shoots finger guns at you and your colleague, before winking and strolling off, earning a scowl from you both.

You walk into the lounge where a handful of interviewers are still waiting for their turn.

“Time’s up, kids. Mr Bravo needs some rest, but Tanya will be in shortly to schedule you in for tomorrow. That sound good?”

When you only hear groans from the group, you clap your hands together and summon your best cheery smile, then proceed to railroad over their dismayed moans with. “Alright then, see you in the morning, thanks for coming!” and exit the stately room.

As soon as you’re in the hallway, you toe off your heels. The sensation of finally being free of the prim footwear is akin to taking off your bra, that most fantastical of female joys. You’re well on your way to doing just that - it’s a short walk to your room.

As you walk down the corridor you hear faint murmuring. You can’t make out the words but the deep baritone is awfully familiar. You try to listen in, to figure out where he is, until you hear a female voice with him. Ah. Okay. Definitely time to move along.

You reach the door of your suite and mercifully press it shut behind you. Now to enjoy some downtime.

Two hours later you’re in your pajamas on the plush bed, and the tear tracks down your face are gleaming in the flickering light of the TV. “Me Before You” is a real tear-jerker, and just as you’re about to reach for a Kleenex, your phone’s loud ringing jerks you out of your romantic reverie.

Immediately you’re pissed at being interrupted, but when you reach over you’re more confused than anything.

“Bravo? How’d you get my number?” you sniffle.

An agonizing groan comes from the other side of the line.

“Help…I need help.” then the line goes dead.

It takes your movie-addled brain a moment to catch up, but when it does, you hastily pull on your work skirt and a sweater over your pajama top and race down the corridor to Dieter’s suite.

You knock on the door and call out to him.

“Hey, open up! You okay in there?”

Nothing.

You rush to reception, imploring the receptionist for access to Dieter’s room. Luckily the staff have been briefed on cast and crew and she issues you an additional keycard, which you pluck from her fingers with a forced little smile before you dart back down the hallway.

A quick swipe later, you’re pushing his door shut behind you.

“Dieter?” you call into the low light of the suite. The bathroom light is on so you walk there, hoping he hasn’t done something drastic like hard drugs. You don’t think you could handle finding a dead person, even if you didn’t like the person in question.

As you walk closer to the entrance, you see his foot come into view, then his leg….he’s sprawled on the tiles, head back with his eyes closed. Oh fuck.

Swearing under your breath you get on your knees next to him, and grab his head, trying to revive him.

His eyes pop open, and he looks at you like he’s annoyed.

“Finally…took you long enough.”

You let go of his head and retract your hands like your touched fire.

“Motherfu…what the FUCK Bravo? I thought you were unconscious!”

“I was unconscious. From fucking boredom. I call you for help and you show up like an hour late? I’m INJURED” he roars, dramatically motioning to his other leg by way of an open palm.

“And you’re naked!” you shout at him.

“Yes, that’s how people fucking shower!” he shouts back. “Look at my ankle!”

Your eyes travel down his tapered torso, not missing the soft swell of a little belly dusted with a trail of coarse hair that leads right into a small hand towel that he had draped over himself to preserve his modesty. Like he has any, you grump inwardly.

Shaking your head to rid yourself of these intrusive thoughts, you follow a toned leg down until you see an ankle that definitely does not normally look that swollen.

“Oh.” you say, feeling a little dumb.

“Yeah, oh is right. I’m dying of pain, I need an ambulance.”

Your head whips back to him.

“Why did you call me? You have a personal assistant.”

“She quit this afternoon. Saw me leaving a fan after um…”

You pinched the bridge of your nose with one hand and waved at him with the other in a vague attempt to get him to stop talking.

“No, no…no, I’m nope-ing out of this conversation. I don’t actually need to know.”

He goes quiet, serious. Studies your face for a second, then reaches out and cups it gently.

You’re surprised enough to let it happen, feeling the warm, large palm pressed against your cold cheek.

“Did you cry because you were worried about me?” he whispers.

You almost growl at him, swat his hand away and get up. You completely forgot that it looks like you just came from a funeral - your eyes are puffy and red and you must have looked a sight in the bright light of the reception area.

“Hi, yeah, I need a town car rental please.” you say into the phone receiver after you dial.

“I need an ambulance,” Dieter whines from the floor. You avoid looking at him, spread out like a sexy trash panda Greek god on the bathroom tiles.

You close the receiver with your palm.

“This is not an emergency, and it will attract press if we wheel you out of here into an ambulance. We’ll get you to the hospital either way.”

An hour after that, Dieter hobbles through the doors of A and E, his sunglasses and hat firmly in place.

—----

After the doctor took a look at him and dispensed some pain meds, he was admitted for observation. So you sat down with a magazine while he slept. Now you’ve finished the magazine and he's still snoring away.

He looks so peaceful that you can’t help but stare. His normally animated face is soft in sleep, he almost looks younger. More innocent. A sudden inexplicable urge comes over you to slide your hand underneath his. Right now he’s just a normal man, no frills and no bullshit. And he’s hurt.

You shouldn't.

But you run your finger gently along the top side of his pointer finger. His hand reflexively opens and envelops yours. You hurriedly search his face, looking for some mischievous grin but he’s still sound asleep. His thumb slowly strokes along the length of your hand, a seemingly self-soothing gesture.

You extract your hand painfully slowly, almost missing the warmth and grip. In an attempt to distract yourself and hopefully slow down your heart rate, you fiddle with the TV remote, accidentally dropping it on the linoleum floor.

Dieter issues a drawn-out groan behind you.

"I can't even get rest when I'm on the brink of death"

You whip around to face him.

"You're not on the brink of death, you sprained an ankle. Big difference."

"I'm thirsty, I need something to drink" he whines.

Not even awake for a full minute and already making demands. Typical.

"I'll get a nurse" you huff and walk out.

At the nurses’ station you make your request then go to find a cup of coffee. It’s close to midnight and you feel like you’re running on fumes. It’s definitely one of the most eventful nights you’ve had in a long time, and not in a good way. The weak but warm brew does perk you up a little and feeling a bit more human, you make your way to his private hospital room.

Reaching the door, you suddenly lose your pace. The curtain around his bed is drawn. He's not due for any tests, so you're not sure what's happening.

In your confusion it takes you a minute to identify little huffs and breathy whimpers from Dieter. Panicking that he might be in pain again, you rip the curtain open with more force than it really needs.

A nurse is standing pressed close to Dieter's bed. Both men's heads snap to you, and it takes a moment for your eyes to drift down, where the nurse's arm has disappeared into the very obvious tented bed covers.

"Get…out" you hiss. The man quickly removes his hand, flashes Dieter a shy smile and leaves. The latter throws his hands up in exasperation. "What was that for? I was close."

You pinch the bridge of your nose. "I hope this is the first and last time I'm going to have to explain this to you, but you cannot fuck hospital staff while they're attending to you. This isn't Grey's Anatomy."

"We weren't fucking. He’s a hot nurse with very soft hands. And he said I was handsome like an old-school movie star.” he mopes.

He turns his body to you, seemingly gearing up for an argument.

"When was the last time you had a good fuck? Eyes-roll-back-in-your-head, can’t-feel-your-legs kinda shit."

"None of your business, that's when." you bite off.

"That's what I thought."

A long beat passes, that seems even longer as your cheeks heat up.

"I bet I could do that for you"

Jolted from your thoughts, you look at him. He looks equally startled, as if he hadn't meant to say that out loud.

“Do what?”

Dieter studies you for a moment. What he says next catches you completely off guard.

“Make you come around my cock. Hard. Give you a nice dose of those good brain chemicals to relax you.”

Your jaw drops. That isn’t just a bold statement, it also seems that he is…offering?

Not taking him seriously, you scoff, but you can feel your cheeks burning at the prospect, however ridiculous, of this gorgeous man even being that close to you. Even if he is annoying under every single other circumstance.

Dieter looks down at his hands that are folded up in his lap. His voice is quieter than you’d ever heard it.

“Do you know why I called you?”

He squints into the overhead light, pretending to study it intensely.

“No, I really don’t.”

“I knew that even though you can’t stand the sight of me, you would still help me. Even though you don't have to. That’s more than I can say for most people in my life.”

Oh.

Several different responses swirl in your brain and as soon as you catch one, it flits away again. Your tongue feels like lead at the heartbreaking admission and you are rooted to the spot. Dieter’s voice finally breaks you out of your holding pattern.

“So…I’d like to give you this. It’s…I’ve been told I’m good. Let me be good for you.” he says in a soft voice.

You look down at your feet for a long time until your eyes meet his again.

“I’m not a charity case, Bravo.”

He nods, closing his eyes for a moment to emphasise his words.

“I know. This is not a charity offer. I’d like to make a friend feel good.”

"We're not friends either." You hold your ground but even to your ears it comes across as needlessly stubborn.

"But we could be," he replied, head tilted slightly.

Then to lighten the mood, he adds, a crooked smile playing across his lips.

“And you kinda cockblocked me a few minutes ago so I’m dying over here. You’d be doing me a favour.”

You smile at him, the first genuine smile and you feel your heart leap as he returns it. This seems too honest a conversation to be one of his usual charming overtures. A small part of you dares to hope.

“Now come closer, sexy, I can’t touch you if you’re all the way over there.”

You huff a laugh, close the door and go to stand next to his bed.

“You’re an idiot, Bravo.”

“And you’re a fox when you smile, who knew?”

He keeps his eyes level with yours, mischief sparkling in them, challenging you to play the game with him. His right hand drops from the bed and you suddenly feel his fingertips trailing up your leg, barely grazing the soft skin of your inner thigh. There is a ghost of a smile as he says -

"You pretend you don’t like me but you’re burning up under here.”

As his hand skims up and comes dangerously close to your ass and around to the apex of your thighs, you struggle not to let a moan escape from you. He trails a line of fire to where you need him most.

“It’s hot outside, has nothing to do with you.” you quip.

To your utter surprise, he guffaws a loud laugh, like you had just told the best punchline. A cute little dimple appears in his cheek as the laughter dies down and he just smiles fondly at you.

Then his wrist twists and you feel his knuckles skim the front of your panties, now soaked.

He dips inside the material, and his smile deepens at what he finds there, making the heat in his eyes flame even higher. He extends his fingers and deftly rubs over your clit, silken and heated, until you feel like you’re going to preen up against his hand like a cat.

“Why don’t you get up here and take me for a ride - there should be a condom in my pants pocket” and with that, he holds out his arms to help you onto the bed.

Slipping off your shoes, sweater and underwear, you clamber onto the bed, feeling a bit unsure.

But you should have known that you’re in experienced hands. Dieter appraises you for a moment before curling his strong fingers behind your neck and gently bringing you down for a kiss. The moment his plush lips touch yours you feel an involuntary moan escape your throat. He smiles around the kiss and delves deeper, feasting on you like he’s been waiting for you all week.

His other hand travels downward, pushing the covers down over his body. You break the kiss briefly to pull the covers the rest of the way down to the bottom edge of the bed. Smirking, you take in the ridiculous sight of him in a stupid hospital gown…for a sprained ankle.

Your smirk dies a quick death when you see the outline of his thick cock tenting the gown, and he reaches down to pull the material up to his middle so nothingl separates the two of you. He takes the foil square from you and makes quick work of getting protection on.

Your pulse thrums in anticipation; you can't believe this is happening. He motions for you to lift yourself a little, and then steadies himself beneath you. You sink onto his firm cock, the wide head catching on your folds. The delicious stretch makes you feel so full - he hasn’t even started moving and you already feel the fuzzy edges of an orgasm in your periphery.

Once he gives you a moment to adjust, punctuated with another delicious kiss, he slaps your butt with a “Go on, Fox, take what you need.”

You slowly start to ride him, building up to a steady pace, and after a few thrusts, he pushes himself up from his lying position, pulls down your pajama top and takes your nipple into his mouth, swirling his tongue around it and sucking. It feels heavenly, and as you look down at him, his eyes are closed like he’s lost in the feel of your soft skin.

A loud beeping pulls you back into the room, and your head lolls up to look at the vitals monitor next to his head. You can’t help the smirk that rests on your lips.

“Hmmm, looks like I’m making your heart rate skyrocket.”

He shifts his head, trying to see what you’re seeing, and irritatedly, he pulls the vitals monitor off his finger. He reaches forward and clamps it to your nipple. You gasp, the sudden jolt of pain sparring with the delicious stretch of him in your cunt.

“Oh god Dieter.” you huff out while you start riding him in earnest.

“Call me Big D”

“No"

“Go on Fox” he cajoles. Tell Big D how good this feels”

“I’m not fucking doing that…d..did you just refer to yourself in the third person?”

He flashes you another smirk as his thumb finds your clit and he starts to rub deft circles on it like he’s been doing it for years.

It pulls another throaty moan from you and he can’t help but smile again as he teases you.

“Hmm? What was that?”

But your eyes close and you lose yourself in the overwhelming sensation of being filled over and over again. His lips map the sensitive skin of your collarbone, the curve of your neck slowly, like he’s taking his time.

Then suddenly he slows you down, his large hand splayed across your belly to temper your movements.

“Lie down next to me.”

You do as you’re told, and he removes the vitals monitor from you. As soon as you’re on your side, facing him in the bed, he brings your free thigh up high around his hip and fills you again.

This angle feels much more intense, because suddenly he’s face to face with you, his strong nose running over your cheek before he claims your mouth again. He starts thrusting in earnest, and you feel the moment pull taut and snap.

Utterly exhausted, you slump down into the mattress. Your brain is empty and you can’t even conceive of the risk that someone might catch you like this. Dieter seems even less bothered, and just holds you to him until you come down from your high.

You clench around his length, earning a soft moan from him, delivered into the hollow of your throat, while he works you through it. He follows you soon after.

Then he whispers to you: “How do you feel?”

Dreamily, you mumble back to him “Yeah, good. Really good.”

He hums appreciatively and pulls your pajama top back up so it covers your breasts. He briefly sits upright so he can remove the condom, tie it up and dispose of it in the small trash can next to his bed. Then he shifts you to his side and grabs the blanket to throw over the both of you. In your blissed-out state you just feel him shifting next to you, making space in the spartan hospital bed so you can be comfortable.

The last thing you hear before you drift off is “Get some sleep, Fox.”

#dieter bravo fanfiction #dieter bravo x f!reader #dieter bravo x you #dieter bravo #pedro pascal character fic #pedro pascal fics #pedro pascal fan fiction #pedro pascal fanfic #the bubble fanfiction

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artisanmarketorg · 5 months

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