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I Hate That I Like You - Part 1

Pairing: Dieter Bravo x f!reader

Word Count: 4700+

Rating: M for mature - 18+ only! NSFW

Warnings: Just like ao3, “creator chooses not to use warnings.” If you click Keep Reading, that means you agree that you’re the age to handle mature themes. Also by clicking Keep Reading, you understand warnings may not be complete in order to avoid spoilers for the story.

Notes: We’ve only got a teaser trailer, a promo pic, and a behind the scenes in character video, but I couldn’t resist writing this! So please note this came out before the movie and so I’m making wild assumptions. Also this will be a 2 part series because apparently I don’t know how to do short stories so much.

I’m also posting this as a thank you for 300 followers! I am BEYOND humbled and can’t believe 300 of you have chosen to hit the follow button. It truly means the world to me!

Shoutout to @astoryisaloveaffair and @icanbeyourjedi for bouncing ideas with me!

**Reader is ethnicity inclusive despite stock photo bias

**If you want to be added to the taglist, join here or let me know!

—----

“This will look good on my resume, this will look good on my resume..” you chant to yourself while also cursing at the fact you agreed to sign on to this movie.

A movie being filmed inside a damn bubble, thanks to world situations being what they are.

“We would like to make you an offer to work on Cliff Beasts 6.” Your manager reads off to you, indicating the salary. “Wow, they upped the hourly rate. They must be desperate.”

“Hey!” you smiled at your manager who smiled back. You two had been friends since childhood and worked together well. You had been working as a hair stylist in Hollywood for a while now, quickly working your way through various sets and earning yourself a reputation in the field for being creative, efficient, and quick - plus the talent loved you.

“There’s a catch.”

You sigh. “Of course. What is it?”

“With all the new protocols, you’ll have to quarantine for 14 days before you can work.”

“That’s fine by me. I have some reading to catch up on.”

“AND you’ll be secluded, in a bubble of sorts, when on set.”

You pause. “What does that mean?”

“It means, once you’re through quarantine, there’ll be no leaving the set for anything until the shoot is over.”

“So I’ll be stuck there with everyone?”

“Yup. And there’s more.”

“What else could they possibly want?”

“You’re going to be fully assigned to an actor. That means all their hair, on set, off set, during shooting, etc.”

“So sort of like a key hairstylist specifically for an actor.”

“Yeah.”

“Ok that’s not terrible. Who do they want me for?”

She hesitates a moment, looking back down at her list. “Dieter Bravo.”

You think for a moment, pinching your thumb and forefinger to the bridge of your nose.. “How much does it pay again?”

—

Quarantine wasn’t too bad. 14 days alone in a hotel room with food being delivered to you. You managed to get through a couple books and binge watch a few shows and movies during this time while coming up with some alternate hair ideas to present to the key hairstylist that’s leading everyone, just in case something ends up not working. Or the actor loses his shit.

You put the last few things in place in your trailer where you’re going to be doing Dieter’s hair (his makeup team will also share with you). Begrudgingly you admit to yourself that you were slightly curious to see if the rumors about Dieter were true, that he was often late, paid little to no attention to his staff (unless they were hot or fawning over him of course), and was, generally, a cocky, entitled, asshole. You had no high hopes but purely because you knew you’d be spending a few months working directly with him, you hoped the rumors were at least a little harsh.

They weren’t.

The first day he was to show up for a trial run of hair and makeup, he was over 2 hours late. He flung open the door to the trailer, not lifting his eyes from the phone in his hand, and shuffle strutted over to the chair, sitting down and crossing his legs. He said nothing to you nor either of the other makeup girls who were there, confirming the truth to the rumors. The three of you glanced at each other before getting up to work, making sure your masks were secure, but apparently weren’t moving fast enough because Dieter’s hand shot in your direction and he snapped a few times, the universal signal for “hurry the fuck up”.

This guy here.

The three of you made it work, now having to move quicker because of his tardiness, occasionally tripping over each other. You were supposed to have your time after they were done to avoid situations like this, but you managed still. Once you were all finished, Dieter annoyingly drug his eyes away from his phone to glance in the mirror, shrugging his shoulders as he stood up and shuffled out, not even waving bye.

“What an asshole,” one of the makeup girls said. Laughing, you all swapped insults as you cleaned up and gathered your on site supplies, rushing out the door to make it to the rehearsal.

—----

Things did not improve much from there.

Dieter arrived more or less on time after that, no doubt after being reprimanded by someone way above your pay grade. You’re not sure if this was actually more annoying because it meant having to spend more time in his presence, which only agitated you more. He would either stare at his phone, completely absorbed in his social media, laughing, scoffing, or making passing comments to himself, outloud. Or he would nap, head lolling to the side which made your job, and that of the makeup girls, much more difficult. Waking him wasn’t an option - he was either a deep sleeper or really good at ignoring you.

The pay was great, sure, but the one thing you were clinging to is how good this will look on your resume. Working on one of 2 movies that were actually shooting during these times will definitely boost your credibility. You were already doing fairly well with your reputation, but this would boost you up to the next level. You may be able to book key hair stylist gigs after this one.

Bubble restrictions still required you to wear masks or face shields, sometimes both, nearly always, especially around the actors and the crew deemed “most important” (directors, producer, etc). While you stood around waiting to adjust Dieter’s hair on set, you wondered what everyone looked like without a mask. Then you’d be brought back to reality when you heard that awful voice Dieter spoke in while in character. It was so ridiculous and over the top, which makes sense for the movie, you supposed.

—----

Several weeks after arriving on set, you got restless in your room. It was late and there wasn’t a night shoot so you decided to risk a walk down to the kitchen to get something to eat and to get a change of scenery. You put on your mask and quietly walked down to the kitchen, which wasn’t far from where everyone was staying.

It was completely empty.

Grateful for the lack of people, you quickly made yourself a sandwich and grabbed a drink, heading back out front of the kitchen and sitting at one of the tables crammed against a wall. There were a few tables scattered around, at least 6ft from anything of course. Setting your plate down, you shift the chair to face out at the area in front of you and sit, taking off your mask and setting it on a napkin on the table.

A few minutes later, one of the new food assistants comes crashing into view, storming up to the kitchen muttering to herself. She emerges a few minutes later, seemingly with the same sandwich on her plate as she stomps back off across the courtyard. She repeats this process once more, even more agitated than before. When she comes back a third time, you set the last bit of your sandwich down and watch her as she comes out of the kitchen.

“...can’t make a sandwich - MAKE YOUR OWN DAMN SANDWICH THEN, DIETER!” She’s speaking in loud mumbles to herself, not even realizing you’re there. She stomps off in the opposite direction, and you smirk to yourself. Good for her.

About 10 minutes later, you look up from the book you had brought to see Dieter Bravo himself walking towards the kitchen. He looks annoyed at being put out, the audacity of him having to walk to the kitchen himself to find the girl to demand his sandwich. He flings the door open, green corduroy robe flowing behind him and disappears inside, coming out a few seconds later after seeing she wasn’t there. He stops just outside the kitchen, looking around the courtyard.

Sighing, you say “She left.”

Dieter jumps, turning in your direction, a look of surprise on his face as he only just realized you were there.

“She left? Where did she go?”

“I don’t know. Mumbled something about “make your own sandwich””. Why the hell is he wearing sunglasses inside? At night?

Dieter glances around again, his hands on his hips. “Well that’s great.”

You hoped he would leave then, let you sit here in peace and finish your sandwich and read, but you weren’t that lucky. His eyes land back on you and he shifts his sunglasses down his nose a bit, visibly checking you out over the tops of his frames. You roll your eyes and look back down at your book, hoping he would get the hint.

He didn’t.

Dieter struts over to you, taking off his sunglasses and hooking them to the collar of his shirt. He pulls out the chair across from you and sits down, leaning to one side as he cocks his head, scanning you up and down.

Ugh.

“You know, I’m one of the main actors in this film.”

“Yeah, I’m aware.”

He smiles. “Oh, did you recognize me?”

“You could say that.”

He smirks again, meeting your eyes with a ton of confidence, as if no one has ever turned him down. “Where did you recognize me from?”

“From your makeup chair. I do your hair.”

His eyebrows furrow together. “No you don’t.”

“I do.”

“Since when?”

“Since the beginning of the shoot 6 weeks ago.”

Rallying, he replies “I think I would remember a face as pretty as yours.” He waggles his eyebrows, seemingly unphased by the fact that he’s seen you for hours at a time, every day for weeks and doesn’t recognize you.

You stand, gathering up your things and you see his smile falter. Good.

“You probably would, if you ever looked up long enough to say hi.”

You walk past him without giving him a chance to answer.

—----

The next morning, you walk to your trailer, intending to set a few things up before the makeup girls come in. To your surprise, Dieter is sitting in the chair, no one else around. He’s scrolling on his phone and looks up when you open the door, a smile stretching across his face as he turns off the screen and shoves his phone in his pocket.

“Are you the hair girl?”

You sigh, stepping in and closing the door behind you. “I am.”

He’s got one leg propped up on the counter in front of him, the top 2, no 4 buttons on his shirt are open and he’s running his hand along his shoulder inside the shirt.

“Is there something I can help you with, Mr. Bravo?”

He lets out a raspberry. “Please, call me Dieter.”

“Is there anything I can do for you, Mr. Bravo?”

His eyes move up and down your body again, landing back on your face. “You can take your mask off for me, so I can see that beautiful face of yours.”

Rolling your eyes, you ignore this comment and move about the trailer, setting up what you needed. You feel his eyes on you the entire time and you find yourself growing more agitated by his presence with each passing minute.

You stand next to him, shuffling things around in the drawer in front of you. Glancing up in the mirror, you see his gaze shift from your ass to your eyes, smirking when you glance away quickly.

“So…are you a fan of my work?” he asks.

“Some of your earlier movies were great.” You answer in a bored tone, continuing to organize what you need.

“Liked what you saw, eh sugar lips?” You know he is smirking even without looking at him.

Pulling out the traveling case you brought with you on set and ignoring the nickname, you answer him in a distracted tone. “Yeah in your younger days you weren’t half bad to look at.”

He gets quiet for a moment and you replay what you said in your mind, realizing you may have bruised his ego. Good. But you weren’t a complete asshole so you look up at him, an apology forming on your lips until you see his face.

He’s staring at you, his eyes glazed over with something…lust? A cocky smile on his face as he pulls his arm out of his shirt and settles further into the chair.

“You think I’m attractive?”

Shit. That’s not what you had meant.

“In that film..what was it… Spanish Nights?” you pretend to think, even pausing in your work to add to the effect. “You were alright. That was a while ago though.”

You resume your task but notice that the smile on his face falls slightly. Despite how much you don’t like him, you feel a little bad about what you said. But before you can say anything, the makeup team enters and it’s time to start your day.

—----

It’s annoying now that he sees you. You didn’t realize how much you actually liked him ignoring you until now. In between takes, if he’s not running lines, he’s talking to you, telling you stories about his past projects, crazy stories about ex girlfriends, anything he can think of.

“You hear the accent I’m using? I came up with that! They heard me and insisted I use it for the film! What do you think, sugar lips ?” His eyes were big and round, brown orbs looking at you hopefully, as you continued to adjust his hair on set between takes.

You’re about to answer when you see his eyes shift behind you briefly and you chance a glance, disguising it as a stretch. A woman walks past, her hips swaying as she walks, tossing her perfect hair over her shoulder, revealing her perfect cleavage. You roll your eyes and look back at Dieter, hating him a little more now.

“Not a fan.”

—----

A few weeks of this goes by, Dieter debating with himself on whether he should continue to pursue you or act cool and aloof. It’s clear that the “charming hot famous actor” bit has always worked for him before and here you were, unaffected by that charm.

One morning you walked into the trailer, Dieter already sitting and waiting for you, as per his new normal routine. The makeup girls came in, did what they needed to do and left you with him. He continues telling you stories about himself as you work, smiling and winking at you every time he could catch your eye in the mirror. When you were finished, he turned towards you and took your hand, which surprised you. Dieter wasn’t typically physical with anyone on set unless it was behind closed doors, so-to-speak.

“Why don’t you take your mask off for me? I want to see that beautiful face again. It’s all I can think about since that night with the sandwich.”

You lean down to get eye level with him and he smiles wider, shifting in his seat to meet you head on.

“What’s my name?” you ask him.

His eyes widen for a moment and it’s like you can see the wheels spinning in his brain, desperately trying to remember if you’ve ever told him your name.

“That’s why.” You pull your hand from his grip, grab your case, and head out the door, heading to the first set of the day.

—----

He hadn’t spoken to you the rest of the day, but to be fair he hadn’t really had a chance. There were a ton of reshoots and new lines to work, these scenes being heavier on the action than others.

After the final “CUT!” of the day, which had turned into evening, you head back to the trailer, the makeup girls tossing their case inside and heading out to get food by the kitchens.

“I’ll be there in a bit. Just need to clean out my case - that hairspray leaked everywhere.”

Taking everything out of your case, you carefully wipe down each item, tossing the combs and brushes into your jar of cleaner. You wipe down the case, spraying into every corner and cursing out the manufacturers of the bottle. It was apparently not meant to do anything other than sit on a shelf and what good is that? Sliding the open case over to the corner to let it air dry overnight, you hear the trailer door open and close behind you.

“Was dinner a bomb- oh.” It wasn’t the makeup girls. It was Dieter.

“Sorry. Thought you were the girls. The makeup girls.” you clarify for him.

“Nope. Just me.” He flashes that cocky smile at you and you just want to reach out and slap it off his face.

“What do you want, Mr. Bravo?” you sigh, exasperatedly.

“I told you to call me Dieter.”

“I’m not doing that.”

“I insist.”

“I don’t have to do everything you tell me to.”

He puts his hands up. “Hey, hey. I came in here to try and make peace and all you do is start shit.”

You scoff. “I start shit? Mr. I-can-only-talk-about-myself-and-give-2-craps-about-anything-else?”

“You’re not a nice person.” He takes a step towards you.

Your jaw drops open, offended as you are a nice person to nearly everyone else in the world. He just makes being nice to him so difficult.“Yeah? Well you’re extremely entitled, self absorbed, and a jerk. And you have a stupid earring.”

He gasps and it nearly makes you laugh. “How dare you insult the earring!”

You step towards him. “I shouldn’t. It definitely fits your aesthetic.”

Dieter steps closer to you. “Yeah? And what is my aesthetic?”

“Pompous asshole.” A small step towards him, just a couple feet from him.

“Yeah? Well yours is angry bitch.”

Something inside you snaps and you slap him across the face, the sound echoing off the walls of the small trailer. His face turns to the side with the force and he rights himself, his gaze boring into you as his expression changes.

You grip his shirt and pull him to you just as he closes the space between you, your lips crashing against each other. He immediately deepens the kiss and you let him, feeling his tongue massage yours and you hate to admit it but he’s actually good at this. You bite his lip as you pull back, reaching up to grab those damn sunglasses from his face, throwing them on the counter behind you.

“I hate you.”

“I hate you too.”

You launch yourself at him and he falls back, laughing as he lands. His laugh is cut off as you quickly straddle him, working to open the 2 buttons that were actually closed on his damn shirt. But the buttons wouldn’t come open so you grip his shirt and pull, the 2 buttons popping off and flying across the trailer in opposite directions.

“Hey that’s my shirt!”

“Oh shut up you barely use buttons anway.”

“You’re such a bitch,” Dieter exclaims as he starts tugging at the hem of your shirt.

“You’re an asshole,” you respond, ripping your shirt up and over your head, tossing it across the trailer and reaching for the clasp on your bra. You undo that and chuck it, feeling Dieter's hands grab your breasts and start massaging them. Giving into the feeling for just a moment, you grab his wrists and pull them from you, pushing them down on either side of his head.

“No touching.”

His eyes are wide, lust blown and angry, but he listens, growling into the kiss you give him as you bite his lip, pressing your chest against his bare skin. Grinding your hips, you swallow the moans that come from him.

“I hate that you’re soft,” he groans into your mouth.

Standing, you undo your pants, sliding them down and off along with your underwear, but before you can straddle him again, Dieter sits up, grabbing the backs of your thighs and rubbing them while he stares at your core, his rings cold against the heat of your skin.

“I hate that I want to touch you, bury my face into you,” he says as he moves closer to your apex.

“I hate that you’re still talking.”

Pushing him back down, you straddle him again and move your hands to his pants, fumbling with the tie as you try to undo it. Why does he wear these awful pants??

To your surprise, he grabs your upper arms and pulls you to him, staring into your eyes briefly before he kisses you, winding his tongue through your mouth. You lean into it, temporarily losing yourself in the kiss. Why does he have to be good at this? There’s a moment, something that passes between you both, but before you have time to dwell on it, he pushes you up.

“I hate you.”

“I hate you more.”

Your hands find the tie on his pants and finally undo it, and Dieter tries to help you shove his pants down, both of you breathing heavily into the small space. But you keep bumping into each other so you swat his hand away.

“Stop. Let me do it.” You demand.

“I know how to undo my own pants.”

“Fuck you’re insufferable. Just let me.”

“No, I can-ngghhh.” You cut him off, having reached into his pants and pulled him out.

And honestly, you need a moment because this was not what you were expecting.

He’s big, long and thick, a lovely color and already hard, leaking a little. You feel your jaw dropping slightly but then you catch sight of his face, a bright smirk lighting him up as he sees you take him in. You clamp your jaw shut.

“Like what you see, sugar lips?”

You take him in hand, squeezing a little harder than you normally would, just to see him grunt. He tries to grab at your hands but you drop him, grabbing his wrists again and pinning them to the floor on the sides of his head.

“Just shut the fuck up,” You drop one of his wrists, moving your hand back down to hold him as you line yourself up, slowly lowering yourself onto him. Gripping his bicep, you squeeze it, unable to prevent the moan from escaping your lips as you feel him inch into you, feeling every ridge and being as he stretches you, lighting up your body with desire.

“Fuck!” Dieter grunts. “You’re so tight.”

Lifting yourself, you pull almost all the way off of him before you drop your hips down and cry out as Dieter pokes at a spot at the very back of you. Then you see that damn smirk again and you roll your eyes. Moving your hips, you start to grind down on him, feeling him touch nearly every part of you.

“I really..hate..that smirk,” you pant out.

“You’re such a..bitch.” Dieter responds, panting out between words as you start to fuck him into the floor.

The hand you’re not pinning down shoots out to your hip, gripping you tightly, digging into your skin as he guides you, making you move harder, faster. The touch sends an electric shock through your body, lighting you up as you feel your climax build.

“Fuck!” you cry out as you come, hips sputtering as your body lights up, your breaths puffing out erratically.

You realize that Dieter still has a strong grip on your hip and is moving you, sliding you across his dick as he chases his own high. A part of you, a large part, wants to push him away and leave him here without coming. But instead you decide to do something else.

Your fingers wind around his hand on your hip as you push against him to stop your movement. His eyes fly open, blown wide open with lust and anger.

“What the fuck?” he yells out.

Taking advantage of his momentary distraction, you slam his wrist into the floor by his head and lift off of him, the tip of his just touching your entrance. His eyes are frantic now and you swear you can’t see any of the brown, as if the black of his pupils has taken over.

“You’ll come when I say you can.”

“You’re such a bitch. I hate- ngghh.” You slowly slide back down on him, taking your time inching him inside of you, loving the way he writhes under you. Once he bottoms out, you move your hips very slightly, tracing little circles as you grind down on him.

“Fuck, you’re going to kill me.” Dieter grunts out, pushing against your hand slightly as he lifts his head to look down where you’re joined. You feel his breathing start to speed up, his hips tensing, so you pull off of him, smirking down at the frustration on his face.

“I didn’t say you could come.”

“God, I hate you!”

You repeat this process a few more times, Dieter’s face growing more angry and desperate with every thrust of your hips. But then you see the tears building at the corners of his eyes, the restraint and lust finally becoming too much and you take pity on him.

Speeding up your hips, you grunt out “Come for me!”

His hips sputter as he comes instantly at your command, his little grunts and moans filling up the trailer and you have to admit, you love the sound of them, the way his brow furrows up and together, his mouth hanging open in an o shape.

He comes down and opens his eyes, watching you behind heavy lids. His hair is mussed up, his face holding a fucked out expression. He looks hot like this-

Before you can follow that thought any further, you push off of him, Dieter letting out a hiss as he slides free of you. Grabbing up your clothes, you get dressed quickly, suddenly feeling embarrassed by what just happened, but more so because you actually enjoyed it.

“Hey-”

Before he can finish the sentence, you open the door and close it behind you, heading to your room at a quick pace.

What the fuck was that? I hate him. HATE. HIM. And I just…but that was kind of hot? He’s kind of hot. WHAT THE FUCK GET IT TOGETHER! You pinch the bridge of your nose, cursing yourself for jumping on him.

Tomorrow is going to be so much fun.

—----

That night you decide to sneak out for a snack again, making another sandwich and sitting at the small table shoved up against the wall as you eat, propping your book open to read, hoping to distract your mind from the million thoughts running through it.

Hearing footsteps, you glance up and see Dieter walking towards the kitchen. Much to your annoyance, he spots you and shifts course, heading for you. You’re about to tell him to leave you be but then you take in the way he’s walking. Not strutting or shuffling, but a simple, average walk. He stands at the chair across from you and gestures to it.

“Mind if I sit?”

Shocked he even asked, you nod and gesture towards the chair. He sits and you notice the familiar green robe he wears, purple shirt and black sweatpants back on, but the sunglasses are not around. Interesting.

Dieter leans forward a little, looking at you. “Can I ask you something?”

Thinking he’s going to ask you about what happened, you swallow hard. “Sure.”

“What’s your name?”

Not what you were expecting, you hesitate a brief moment before responding. “Sugar lips.”

He smiles softly. “Not what I meant. I mean your real name.”

You consider him for a moment. He looks genuine and those big, brown eyes bore into you. You tell him your real name and he smiles.

“Such a beautiful name.”

“Thanks, I guess. Everyone usually calls me Bee, because I’m always moving.”

He smiles again and then gets up, pushing in his chair and walking towards the kitchen. He’s gone for a few minutes and then reemerges with a plate, waving to you as he heads back upstairs.

Don’t catch feelings for him. Don’t do it, Bee. Don’t do it.

Shit.

—----

Part 2 >>

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