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t-lostinworlds · 10 months

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Competitively Stupid | Steve Harrington

》 PAIRING: steve harrington x female!reader

》 TROPE/GENRE: rivals-ish (since childhood) to lovers, some angst; fluff

》 SUMMARY: It was stupid, jumping off a cliff just to prove that you were better than Steve fucking Harrington. But you were competitive. You were not losing to him. But you know what was stupider? For it to take a near-death situation for you both to confess what you truly feel for each other.

》 WARNINGS: canon divergent (everyone is alive & well & happy thanks), pet names (sweetheart, baby), shitty parents (on both sides), competitiveness on all accounts, r is basically a counterpart of steve during high school (cheerleading captain, queen of hawkins high, swim team captain, etc.), peer pressure-ish, some stupid decisions & stupider actions, very irresponsible cliff jumping (which doesn't end well), drowning, CPR, injuries, an emotional moment™, love confessions, and a happy, sappy ending.

》 WORD COUNT: 5.3k+

A/N: hi! okay, well, it's been a while since i posted a steve fic so i'm kinda nervous ngl. also, not me making it a habit to include swimmer!steve in all my fics from here on out. this was meant to be short & sweet to dust off the cobwebs but lol. super random. i saw a video of someone cliff-jumping & boom, the idea was born. also, not me using the first aid training i learned in college.

📍 BLOG NAVIGATION ✩ STEVE H. MASTERLIST ✩ MAIN MASTERLIST ✩

⊱ ─────.⋅♚ *｡･ﾟ.★. *｡･ﾟ✫*.

This was stupid.

Absolutely idiotic.

You genuinely have no idea why you were even doing this in the first place.

"There's no way you can do it."

Right.

That's why.

The taunting voice of Steve fucking Harrington was the reason why you were standing on the edge of a cliff, looking down at a thirty-foot drop into the dark ocean.

This was supposed to be a relaxing trip with your new found family.

"You know you don't have to listen to him, right?" Robin sighed, so completely over the fact that her two best friends who never got along no matter what she tried, somehow came to an agreement to not listen to her right now.

Not that you could blame her.

You and Steve had been rivals ever since you were kids.

It was what you had always known.

What with narcissistic parents who used their children as pawns to one up each other, you had been conditioned to see him as an enemy from the second you step foot into their home.

Your family was invited into the Harrington residence for dinner as a way of welcoming you to the neighborhood. You recently just moved in, so you didn't know anyone else yet. When you heard that the next-door neighbor had a son who was your age, you had been really excited to gain a new friend.

All that changed when your dad sat you down an hour before, prepping you about how the Harringtons were a respected family in the town, and that you needed to show them you weren't any less than them, if not show them you were better. He drilled it in your brain to be on your best behavior, to be the best and the perfect daughter.

It only got worse when you finally sat down at that dinner table.

The comparisons were endless.

"See, my daughter here is a wonderful gymnast, quite amazing for someone her age."

"How wonderful. Steven here has swimming lessons every weekend. His coach said he might end up in the Olympic team once he's of age."

"Splendid. How about his academics? I'm sure he can take inspiration from my daughter's exemplary grades."

"He's the top of his class. Maybe if they study together, your daughter would be able to catch up in time."

It was harsh, pitting two seven-year-olds against each other—impressionable kids who only wanted to make their mom and dad proud.

But neither your parents nor his truly gave a shit. All they cared about was becoming the best family in the street, if not the whole town.

The sad thing was, those dinners became a regular thing, held alternately between your house and his.

It always looked like a preparation for battle whenever your mom would pull out the finest china in her collection along with the cookbook she only ever used for special occasions.

It was in the guise of cordiality when it was, in fact, an excuse to show off, to make a competition out of everything, a moment to compare who did what best. Those dinners were like monthly scoreboards, tallying up the respective families' recent achievements—and that included yours and Steve's.

Nobody was surprised that the competitiveness stuck with you both.

And it only got worse during high school.

Whether that was something as mundane as winning the popularity contest when running different circles—even going as far as getting crowned the King and Queen of Hawkins High—down to academics and extracurriculars.

Captain of the basketball team. Captain of the cheerleading squad. Prom Queen. Prom King. MVP of the season. Brightest student of the year. Beer pong Queen. Kegstand King. Best summer camp counselor. Lifeguard of the month and it went on and on and on and on.

When he got co-captain for the men's swim team, you rubbed it in his face that you were the captain of the women's team. When you got second place at the science fair, he made sure to rub his first place medal right in your face. When you became president of the student council, you ordered him around to do extra work whenever the basketball team was required to help with community service.

It was a constant back and forth.

There was always a competition between you and Steve Harrington.

And sure, since you graduated, it became subdued. But it was still very much there. Vying on who was the coolest babysitter in your band of ragtags, even fighting to have the title of Robin Buckley's ultimate best friend.

This thing between you and Steve was deeply rooted. So there really wasn't much Robin could do apart from getting in between your frequent squabbles before you started actually killing each other.

In Robin's words, something drastic had to happen for you both to finally wake up and see that this rivalry between you both wasn't what it seemed to be on the surface.

You had no idea what she was even implying.

Now, on a little getaway on the nearest beach you could drive to, the competition started with a race on who could get there first. It wasn't even fair seeing that you weren't the one driving.

The group had split into two, some were in Eddie's van—along with everyone's belongings since he had ample space in the back—while the others were in Steve's Beemer. Since you and Steve couldn't be in the same room together without an argument ensuing, it was a unanimous decision to have you two separated. Nobody wanted to deal with that for hours on the road.

Not that you could blame them, either.

And sure, it was the kids who suggested the race, but with Steve's smug smirk and that arrogant wink he threw once you got into Eddie's passenger seat, you knew it was game on between you too.

Yet despite the metal head being a fast—albeit slightly reckless—driver, he somehow took his sweet goddamn time getting to your destination.

Only when your group arrived at the beach last, did he say something about Steve threatening him to be extra careful with driving because there's important cargo in his van—whatever the hell that meant.

You lost to Steve on that one, but you would argue it was rigged from the start.

The next was a supposed friendly bout on who could build the biggest sandcastle that didn't topple over after a few minutes.

It was boys versus girls with you and him being team leaders. The girls won, obviously and El never used her powers. It was fair and square since the other team mostly argued over everything they could think of and had no teamwork at all. You made sure to point that out to Steve as you watched their sandcastle crumble into ruins.

Another one was beach volleyball. Same leaders as before, but you get to pick the members of your teams this time. Steve made it his mission to pick the tallest of the bunch. Still, it wasn't the advantage he thought it was because it ended up being one point too close.

Your team would've won if Steve wasn't such a dramatic asshole.

It was truly an accident. When you spiked that ball, you were not aiming for his face. He simply thought it was a good idea to catch the ball with it. Besides, he was distracted, flirting with some random girl in a bikini who was passing by, right in the middle of the game.

How was it your fault that he wasn't paying attention?

He made sure to oversell his injury after that, curled up on the sand as the girl fussed over him. But you saw that smirk on his face. You would've hit him again—definitely not by accident this time—if you weren't busy arguing with Robin about the point deduction. She said it was only fair since you hit the ball when she hadn't blown her imaginary whistle yet.

You decided to let it go when Steve commented on you being a whiny sore loser.

Unfortunately, the competition was ending with who could make jumping off a cliff and into the ocean look the coolest—adults only, despite the groans of protest from the mischievous bunch.

Eddie offered to stay behind and watch the rascals. When teased, he simply said he didn't want to test Death today.

His comment didn't help your nerves.

Robin said she was only coming purely as a voice of reason. She'd been saying nonstop how it was a horribly stupid idea, that there really was no need to be doing this in the first place.

But Steve wasn't backing down, so you weren't going to either.

So once again, it was only you and him.

As it always had been.

He volunteered to go first, throwing in a comment about rushing back up the cliff's edge before you could take your turn because he wanted a front-row seat for when you'd chicken out.

It only made you want to do it more.

His dive was smooth, almost flawless, you admit. He even showed off with a little flip near the end. It didn't take long for him to swim back to the shore, either. His years of training as a swimmer were obviously paying off.

But you trained just as much if not more than he had.

The only difference was, adrenaline didn't fuel you as much as it did Steve. So instead of getting all powered up looking down at a cliff's edge like he was, you were terrified.

But who wouldn’t get scared looking down at harsh waves crashing against sharp and jagged rocks? There was no margin for error here because one wrong slip and you'd be dead.

Still, if Steve could do it, you could do it better.

You weren't about to lose to his stupid ass.

"I'm not listening to him," you argued back, taking in a shaky breath as you took a step.

"He's doing reverse psychology!" she squeaked. "So you doing it is still listening to him!"

"I'm fine, Robs, I can do it," you mumbled, a slight questioning lilt at the end of your sentence.

"Look, sweetheart, it's okay to admit defeat," Steve said, cocky voice with an even cockier smile as he crossed his toned arms against his bare chest. His hair was still damp, quick to climb back up so he could get his front-row seat as he promised.

But you weren't chickening out.

Never.

"I mean, it wouldn't be the first time you lost to me so, it shouldn't sting as much."

You ignored him.

Instead, you took another step, the tips of your toes now hanging over the edge.

You can do this. Wipe that smug smirk off his face. You got this.

"Listen, you don't have to do—"

"Shut it, Harrington," you growled.

With a deep breath, you closed your eyes, counting from three, two, one…

You jumped.

-:-:-:-:-:-:-

This was stupid.

Absolutely idiotic.

He shouldn't have pressured you like that.

The jump wasn't deadly, per se, but it also wasn't exactly deemed the safest, especially if you weren't an expert in any sort of way.

And he didn't want to say it out loud because if he did, he knew it would only push you to do it more just to prove him wrong.

But Steve could see how scared you were.

He was already dropping the act, voice laced with concern as he started telling you that he wasn't worth all of this, that he was stupid and that you were always going to be better than him.

But, obviously, you didn't listen.

You simply jumped.

You and your stupidly competitive ass.

"Damn it," he cursed under his breath, rushing to the edge of the cliff, tensely watching your falling figure disappear into the water with a splash.

"You two are complete idiots."

"Shut up," Steve gritted, never looking away from the water. Yet any annoyance was quickly overpowered by sheer worry as he scanned the deep blue for anything.

There was no sign of you.

"Like seriously! It's like I'm the only one with a brain cell here!"

"Come on, come on, come on," Steve mumbled, completely ignoring Robin when you still hadn't emerged to the surface. "Come on, Y/N, don't scare me like this."

"Uh, Steve?" Robin asked after a moment, carefully looking over the cliff before shooting him a worried glance. "You look anxious and you being anxious is making me nervous."

"She hasn't come up," he grumbled, glancing at his watch.

It was nearing a minute.

"Maybe you didn't see her?"

"I haven't taken my eyes off the water, Buckley," he gritted, too harsh and uncalled for since Robin didn't do anything wrong.

But he was panicking.

A minute and thirty seconds.

"Come on, sweetheart, you can do it. You're an amazing swimmer," he whispered encouragingly, hoping some sort of magic would let you hear him underwater all while saying it aloud for his own sanity.

Two minutes.

You could never hold your breath any longer than that.

Steve knew because he always won that competition.

And that was in a calm pool.

"Shit, shit, shit!" he cursed, gearing up to dive after you. "I don't think she's coming up!"

"Okay! Okay," Robin rushed, panicking. "Maybe she's already on the shore. We should go down now and see—"

Steve didn't listen.

He jumped right after you.

The biting cold was awakening.

Still, it was the absolute fear of losing you that was keeping him alert.

He ignored the sting of the salty ocean water in his eyes as he frantically searched for you, his heart beating hard and fast, struggling for oxygen all while fearing for your safety.

Steve didn't know which came first, relief or dread when finally found you, aimlessly floating and unconscious under the deep blue.

He swam to you as fast he could, securely hooking his arm under your shoulder and dragging you up to the surface.

Steve always knew that adrenaline can give you a random boost of strength when needed. He simply didn't expect that to be proven true when he was carrying your unresponsive body in his arms as he brought you to the shore.

He gently placed you on your back on the sand, cupping your face as he checked for any injuries.

You were so cold.

"Hey, hey, wake up," he begged, grabbing your shoulders to try and shake you awake.

Nothing.

"You didn't have to make the jump, you idiot. Why do you always want to prove me wrong," he scolded with no ounce of anger, only worry. He started tapping your cheek frantically. "Come on, wake up!"

Still no response.

"Dammit, Y/N, why'd you have to be so fucking stubborn," he scolded, his voice shaking in fear, his chest tightening as he pressed two fingers against your pulse point.

His own heart stopped when he couldn't feel yours.

And you weren't breathing.

Steve tried to keep himself calm. If he panicked now, he wouldn't be able to give you the aid that you direly need.

"Come on, Harrington. You know what to do. You trained for this," he mumbled to himself, getting into the proper position to give you CPR.

He gently cupped your forehead with his left hand, his other two fingers under your chin as he tilted your head up.

"You're going to be okay," he whispered, pinching your nose before slotting his lips against yours.

Breathing into your mouth, one, two, he watched your chest rise as it filled up with air, only for it to settle back down without coming back up again. He quickly kneeled straighter, locking his fingers together and placing the heel of his left hand in the middle of your chest, pushing down with enough pressure to try and get your heart to start again.

"One, two, three, four, come on, sweetheart, breathe for me," he mumbled, easily finding the right rhythm, his first aid training as a lifeguard coming back to him like it was second nature.

Still, he never wanted to use this skill in a real-life situation, much less use it on you.

It was the longest thirty counts in his life.

Check for a pulse. Check for breathing.

Still nothing.

"Goddammit, Y/N, come on!" he growled, blinking back the tears as he pressed his mouth against yours again.

Two rescue breaths.

Thirty chest compressions.

Steve repeated the cycle over and over. His eyes were stinging with unshed tears, his knees were burning as the rough sand dug deeper into his skin, and his arms were starting to get sore, tiredness slowly covering his aching muscles.

But he'd rather die first than give up on you now.

"Steve—"

"Call for help, Robin!" he ordered, not taking his eyes off you for even a second. When he didn't hear any movement, he yelled, "Don't just stand there! Go!"

He was going to apologize for being an asshole later. For now, he needed you to fucking breathe.

"Come on, come on, please," he begged, leaning back down to give you two more rescue breaths. "Breathe for me, baby, please."

Thirty chest compressions.

"Trying to prove me wrong when I've always been wrong, you idiot."

Five, six, seven—

"Sweetheart, come on," he choked back a sob. "Who's going to call me out when I'm being stupid, huh? You know Robin can't do it alone."

Twelve, thirteen, fourteen—

"And you're really going to leave me alone to watch our kids?"

Twenty, twenty-one, twenty-two—

"Y/N, baby, please, I can't live without you," he whimpered.

Twenty-seven, twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thir—

Steve felt his breath leave his lungs when you finally gasped for air.

He quickly turned you to your side, rubbing your back as you choked out all the ocean water that got into your system.

"There you go, you're okay," he whispered, whether to reassure you or himself, he didn't even know anymore. All he was focused on was making sure you were going to be okay.

"S-Stevie?" you coughed out the nickname that was only ever used by you.

It was the equivalent to his nickname for you—sweetheart.

Names that started out to annoy each other but the more often it was used as time passed, it only managed to grow into an endearment that held something warm underneath it. You both were quick to realize that the nicknames you had for each other weren't out of spite anymore.

Neither of you simply addressed it.

"Steady, sweetheart, I'm right here," he reassured, hurriedly getting into your line of sight to stop you from trying to turn around to face him. He gently cupped your cheek, offering you a soft smile when your gaze found him. "I'm not going anywhere."

You nodded as best as you could, your eyes clinging onto his brown ones only for them to screw shut when a shiver ran through your whole body.

"C-Cold," you stammered.

"I know, I know, come here," he said softly, guiding you to sit up before quickly settling behind you. He gently pulled you closer between his legs, his chest pressed against your back as he blanketed his body over yours, rubbing your arms to keep you as warm as possible.

You turned to face him slightly, burying your face into his neck only for you to wince at the slight movement. He quickly tried to steady you again, checking over you twice to look for any visible injury. But he couldn't find any.

"Tell me what hurts," he asked, pressing his lips against your cold forehead as he fully wrapped his arms around you.

"A-Ankle," you whimpered in pain, your grip on his waist tightening and God he hated that sound so much.

You must've rolled it when you jumped, and having landed on it when you reached the water, it definitely made it worse.

"It's okay, you're okay," he murmured, littering kisses against the side of your head to try and keep your mind off it. "Robin already called for help, they should be on their way, alright?"

You gave him a small nod, inching even closer to him, seeking as much warmth from him as possible. Your cold breath was tickling his skin but he didn’t care. Hell, you could be breathing fucking ice and he still wouldn’t give a shit.

As long as you were breathing.

"I need you to stay awake for me, okay?"

"I-I'll try," you whispered.

"First to fall asleep is the biggest loser," he mumbled, squeezing you slightly when he felt your eyes flutter close. "And you wouldn't want me to win this, babe, because I'll be a little shit about it."

"Not f-fair," you choked out a laugh.

"It's plenty fair," Steve chuckled tearfully, ignoring the sudden wetness on his cheeks. He hugged you tighter instead. "So stay awake or you'll lose to me. Again."

"Right there! They're right over there!"

Steve had never been so grateful to hear Robin's voice.

-:-:-:-:-:-:-

"So are you finally going to tell her?"

"Tell her what?" Steve questioned back, unable to take his eyes off of you, soundly sleeping in a hospital bed with your foot now wrapped in a cast.

The doctor had already checked everything and thankfully, there weren't any further injuries apart from your twisted ankle.

Now, all you needed was to rest and recover.

"That you've been in love with her this whole time."

Steve sighed, squeezing your hand before turning to look at his best friend.

"I'm not in love with her, Robs."

"Right," she scoffed, raising a knowing brow. "Because jumping off a cliff with zero hesitation so you could save her is totally normal behavior for someone you claim you hate."

"I never said I hated her," he argued, and it was true. He couldn't think of a single moment where he hated you.

"Yeah, well, you two definitely don't act like you like each other."

"Does she annoy and frustrate the shit out of me? Yes. But I never hated her," he admitted.

Steve didn't know what it was exactly, maybe it was his tiredness muddling his brain, maybe it was from everything that happened in the last couple of hours finally catching up to him, or maybe it was the overwhelming need to confess everything into the open before it was too late—and it almost had been. Either way, he found himself suddenly spewing out all the things that he always just kept to himself.

"She's also been the most constant person in my life, you know? Hell, we basically grew up together. I can't just not care about her," he continued, memories flooding his system before he could even stop it. "She's been so ingrained in my life, her and the cute dresses she wore at those stupid dinners our parents always dragged us to. Her and her stupid competitions whenever our babysitters would bring us to the park together. Her and that stupid dance she always did whenever she won at anything even if it was my expense—she always does this cute little wiggle whenever she won, and that never left her even as we got older," Steve chuckled at the thought.

"And fuck, don't even get me started with how similar our parents are. She's the only one who will always get me when it comes to that," he continued. "And yeah, we compete a lot, but there was no hatred between us. Maybe at the start but all that went away when we learned that whatever our parents were feeding us was bullshit—that they were bullshit.

"And fine, did I sometimes get so annoyed whenever she got a new boyfriend? Yeah. But only because she always had this bad habit of dating fucking assholes. I don't know where she got those dickheads from but every time I see a glimpse of her crying by her window at night I swear to fucking God I would've killed every single one of those assholes if she asked," he gritted, slumping down in his seat with a sigh.

"She deserves to be treated right, you know? She's already experiencing so much shit at home, she doesn't need any more of that anywhere else. Sure, she irritates me to no end but that doesn't mean she's not a sweet girl who always cried whenever some random pet commercial came on the TV during the holidays. Does her competitiveness drive me up the wall? Absolutely. But that doesn't mean I don't feel so fucking proud of her whenever she wins another medal or achieves another milestone. And yeah, I wonder about how she's doing, if she's taking care of herself, if she's getting enough sleep between her work and classes. But that's only because I worry, you know?

"And maybe I do think about her a lot but that doesn't mean I'm in love with…"

Steve blinked.

Well fuck.

"Wow," Robin marveled. "You're stupider than I thought."

"He hit his head as a kid, cut him some slack."

Steve paled at the sound of your voice, swiftly turning red at the thought that you probably heard all the things he said.

He turned to face you, groaning in annoyance when he saw the smug smile on your lips. "You've been awake this whole time?"

"I'll leave you two love birds alone," Robin sang, quickly slipping out of the hospital room and closing the door behind her.

"How much of that did you hear?" Steve asked, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Enough to say you're stupid," you hummed.

He rolled his eyes, leaning back in his seat with crossed arms. "I'm not the one who jumped off the cliff and almost died just to prove a fucking point."

"Yeah, well, I guess we're both stupid then," you snorted.

He shrugged. "I guess we are."

"Jesus, you don't have to act so tense. I mean, you've already given me a mouth-to-mouth, we've practically made out already," you scoffed playfully. "I honestly thought I'd die first before swapping spit with you yet here we are."

It was your attempt at alleviating the tension, to throw in a funny quip. But with everything still so fresh in his mind, Steve simply couldn't take it well.

"Don't fucking joke about that will you?" he snapped, rubbing a frustrated hand over his face.

The silence that followed only made the tension worse.

"I'm sorry," you whispered.

Steve immediately felt bad.

"No, no, no. You didn't do anything wrong, don't apologize," he sighed, meeting your eyes with an apologetic smile. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have snapped. It's just—"

He stopped himself, chewing on his bottom as he looked everywhere but at you when he felt the tears well up again.

"Will you come here?"

Steve took a calming breath and did as you asked, moving his chair closer but didn't attempt anything else than that.

"Stevie," you called when he still wouldn't look at you.

Harshly wiping his eyes with the back of his hand, he lifted his head. You smiled at him sweetly, wiggling your fingers to get him to come even closer.

"You scared me back there," he croaked, taking your hand with a squeeze.

"I didn't mean to," you softly said, remorseful and apologetic even though you didn't have to be.

"I know," he murmured, pressing your warm palm against his cheek as he shot you a glare. "Just don't do that again."

"Promise," you giggled, stroking his cheek with your thumb.

Steve leaned closer into your touch. "How are you feeling?"

"Better, thanks to you," you hummed, brows furrowing in thought. "When Marcus got that black eye, you said it was because he was playing dirty on one of your games." You tilted your head knowingly. "That wasn't true, wasn't it?"

Steve shrugged. "He hurt you."

"It was a small bruise on the arm, Steve," you reasoned.

"He shouldn't be giving you a fucking bruise in the first place," he growled, the memory bringing back the same anger he felt when he first saw that bruise. The soft tapping of your finger against his cheek calmed him down. "Sorry."

"Did you lose on purpose to get him expelled?"

"What? No!" he scoffed, offended, rolling his eyes when you giggled. "I tried so fucking hard to win that fight, you know, for you."

"You've always been protective of me," you hummed, taking his hand and interlacing your fingers together.

"Don't think I didn't know it was you who dyed that poor girl's hair green that one year in middle school summer camp," he retaliated.

It was a sharp and piercing scream that woke up the whole camp that morning. Everyone rushed out of bed to see what was going on only to find a girl who once was blonde was now sporting bright green hair in the middle of the crowd, crying her eyes out.

Steve would've thought it was only some silly prank if he didn't know who the girl was. But he did. Because the day before he tried to ask her to be his girlfriend, only for her to turn him down in the most embarrassing and humiliating way possible.

It wasn't difficult for him to find out who the culprit was since he immediately noticed how you kept hiding your hands in your pockets for the next few days after the incident.

The counselors quickly found out that the little menace—whoever she was—decided to use permanent dye on the poor girl's hair instead of something washable.

Your green palms colored you oh so guilty.

"She called you pathetic and gross in front of everyone!" you argued, pouting. "You looked like you were about to cry and I hated it."

Steve's heart warmed at that, a smile on his face despite rolling his eyes. "I wasn't about to cry."

"Yeah well," you shrugged, eyes trained on your intertwined fingers, your thumb playing with his. "I'm the only one who's supposed to be mean to you."

"Hmm," he agreed, bringing the back of your hand to his lips. "I guess we've always been there for each other, huh?"

"I guess so," you giggled, cupping his cheek and tugging him closer.

He stood up from his seat, following your lead until he was pressing his forehead against yours.

"Thank you for saving my life, Steve," you whispered, eyes turning glossy as so many emotions covered your irises, the weight of what almost happened catching up with you.

"You don't have to thank me for that," he said sincerely, brushing the tip of his nose against yours. "I'd do it over and over again in a heartbeat."

You nodded, sniffling, "Still, thank you."

Steve wasn't able to argue some more when you all but kissed him.

The first time Steve felt your mouth on his was a horrible experience considering he was trying to keep you alive.

Now, everything was the complete opposite.

A kiss that was careful but sweet, a hint of nervousness and excitement all the same, completely unhurried yet burning with passion as his lips molded against yours.

But still, it felt like that first gasp of air—a finally.

"I'm in love with you, too, by the way," you murmured as you pulled away, your warm breath tickling his lips.

"Thanks for clarifying," he chuckled, eyes laced with adoration, unable to stop his smile from growing wider, warmer. "I couldn't figure that out from the kiss."

"I mean, you are kinda stupid," you teased.

"We're on that same boat, sweetheart," he chuckled. "I'm sure Robin would remind us about that every single day now."

"Unfortunately," you groaned playfully. "God, she gets annoying when she's right."

"Tell me about it," he hummed, brushing his lips against yours, moving away when you chased it.

You whined.

Steve didn't hesitate to dive back in.

✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ♛ *.

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chubstiger · 5 months

Text

Teacher! Nanami x Teacher! Reader

Warnings: just fluff all the way~ just a smedge of smexyness

The bell rings, signaling that school was over. But it was a cloudy and rainy day. You dread to go outside after finishing marking paperwork for today.

Once you have finished, you packed your items into your bag and headed down to the front doors. You checked your bag to see if you have your umbrella, and it does not seem like it. You sighed in annoyance. "Damn it... Gotta make a run for it." You prepped up to go to cover your head to run towards a shelter for a bit. Suddenly, a shadow loomed over you, stopping you in your tracks. You looked up to see a black umbrella, blinking in surprise. You turned to see the culprit. It was Nanami from Class-A who was the home room teacher.

"You'll get sick if you run out there." He stated out as he went under the umbrella as well. "We go the same way, after all. I'll share it with you."

"Ah, thank you, Nanami-san." You blushed a bit. You didn't expect this outcome at all. He was such a gentleman from the rumors and stories about him, except to the other teacher; Gojo-san. "You didn't have to."

"Nonsense, I wanted to." He replied back with a gentle smile. Your heart beated as you nodded to him. Both of you stepped off out to the rain without getting wet, thanks to his umbrella. You couldn't help but think that sharing the item means that only lovers would do. You hoped for a chance with him. But you never know with him. You can't tell what he was thinking. As you two continue to walk, you strike up the courage to start a conversation. Nanami was enjoying the time you two are spending together. He never had the chance to say a word to you at school because of how busy it is. Especially close to exam time. When he first saw you, you took his breath away at the ceremony for new teachers. He respected your work and work ethics later on in life.

You were nervous about walking beside each other. What ifs come to mind, hoping you won't turn him off from even forming a conversation with you. Then you notice you were close to your place. Disappointed, you stopped and turned to him. "This is my place. Thank you for sharing your umbrella with me!" You beamed at him.

He smiled lightly, "It's no problem, L/N- san."

"Well, you should probably head off. You probably have someone waiting home for you, huh?" You shyly said to him, hoping there wasn't anyone.

He chuckled, "No, I have no one at home." You inwardly sighed in relief. Maybe this would be your one chance!

"Then...would you like to have some coffee before you go?" You offered, blushing. Nanami heart beated as he surprisingly to you, agreed to it quickly. You led him to your door and opened it timidly. You were semi-shaking about inviting him in. Your secret crush is gonna be inside, and luckily, you cleaned the house before you left for work. Going inside as you opened the door, you gestured him in. Taking off your shoes, he followed suit. "Make yourself at home, Nanami-san. I'll make some coffee." You stepped to your kitchen as he nodded to you, moving to the living area. He gently sat on the love seat and undo his tie a bit. He was nervous. You made the first move, and he felt that he should make the other soon.

You took off your work jacket and started the coffee machine. You breathed, shaking a bit. 'Stay calm, girl. You can do this!' You thought. Unbuttoning the first two studs near the collar, you were showing some skin for him to see. Slight cleavage peaking out. You grind the beans, and placed in the holder. You pressed it down to flatten it and locked it into the machine. Finally, the hot water dripped down into two medium size cups. You foam a cup of milk into the streamer. Once the coffee stops dripping, you took the cups and filled foamed milk with it little by little making a swan pattern. Satisfied with your work, you finally place it onto a tray and walked to the living room. You saw him sitting there, with his jacket off and tie loose. 'Whoa...' You cleared your throat to make yourself known. "The coffee is done." You place his cup in front of him with a coaster place on the bottom. Nanami was shocked at the display.

"Amazing! You did this?" He uttered impressed. You nodded, from the compliment.

"I'm planning to open a cafe in the future..." You shyly replied as you sat down next to him. Nanami stared at you, softly, and obviously looked down seeing your cleavage. He gulped, and turned away to grabbed his cup, taking a small sip of it. It was delicious!

"This is wonderful. Thank you for the coffee." He spoke up and you nodded. There was a silent moment as you two drank the coffee. It was nerve-wracking.

"L/n-san...

"Nanami-san, I-" you both uttered out and then chuckled. "You can go first, L/n-san."

"Please, call me Y/N."

"Than call me Kento." He agreed.

"I....I liked you from the moment I saw you, w-would you go out with me...?" You questioned timidly. Kento blinked and then sighed in relief. He placed down his cup and inch towards you. He grabbed your hands in his and nodded.

"I would love too. You can say you took my breath away when I first saw you as well." He admitted with a chuckle. You found yourself giddy with excitement. Cheering inwardly, you squeezed his hands, content with his answer.

"Thank you for agreeing." You spoke with a blush.

He brushed the piece of hair out of your face as he replied, "No, thank you for wanting me."

Fin.

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wildemaven · 1 year

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Sweet Creature: Chapter Six

Pairing: Dieter Bravo x F!Reader

WC: 4511

Warnings: 18+ Blog; mentions of food and drinks, unwanted touching, self doubt, pining, two dumb dumbs navigating fEeLiNgS, reader has a nickname but has zero descriptive features, fluff, like always please let me know if there’s anything I missed.

A/N: This chapter!! I think it’s just been a week for me, dealing with minimal sleep and a teething babe— I was near giving up on it. But, it’s done! Wrote out a good portion of it and then hated it so I rewrote it and then ending up going in a completely different direction— but I like where it ended up going. Thanks again for all the love and kind words on this series!! Only 4 more chapters to go!! Adding: Thank you to @gnpwdrnwhiskey for beta’ing this labor of love and all her support and help as I write this!

Series Masterlist / Playlist / Main Masterlist

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An endless loop of vivid thoughts frequent your weary mind— starting early in the morning and well into the evening.

Dieter, his stupid handsome face and the way he has you falling for him, your brain in a constant flustered state.

You keep mulling over the possibilities of allowing yourself to be vulnerable, open to the idea of something growing between you and Dieter.

Each alternative has its advantages and risks.

Leaning into your feelings and granting Dieter access to the thing you’ve spent years guarding, trusting that he will stand alongside you as you fully open your heart to a chance at a future together.

But what if he doesn’t want the same things as you?? You contemplate if settling for just his friendship is enough, never pursuing the growing connection between you, accepting him in your life but always at an arm's length.

Dieter’s impending departure has you a mess, your growing feelings for him only making it worse.

“Are you still there sweetheart?”

“Yeah— Sorry Mom, I’m still here.” You assured her, finishing up the rest of your makeup as you get yourself ready for the Capri Hotel’s big event.

“You sound so far away. What’s bothering you?”

“Ugh. I don’t even know where to begin Mom. None of it’s really all that bad, just a lot at once I guess.”

“Well, I’m here to listen if you need to get it off your chest.”

Moments like these, you wished she lived closer, missing your kitchen conversations at the end of a long day. No matter how depleted she was after work, she made dinner with a smile and sat for as long as you needed her to, her shoulders always carrying the weight of your heart when needed.

“Just trying to keep it together most days. School has been busy, end of year things have me drained. Then there’s the whole gallery thing, it has me stressed I won’t be ready for the showing. I’ve finally managed to get a chunk of my pieces painted and prepped— I have like 5 more to do. And I’m sad it’s closing, I only have a few classes left there.” You pause for a moment, you hadn’t intended on an emotional dump when you called your Mom, just wanted to check in and say hello. “It’s all good things though, so I don’t even know why it feels overwhelming, I guess I feel like I’m going to let someone down somewhere along the way.”

“Hmm. Well, I know how hard you are on yourself, but I also know how hard you work— especially when it involves all the things you love. You’re going to get through it all! I believe in you.”

Her voice feels like a warm embrace as it drifts through your phone, the stress already feeling like it has lifted a bit with her reassurance.

“So, how are things with your guy? Any new things on that front?”

“Well, he’s not my guy.” Chuckling at her abruptness. “I feel like we’re in a good place now— he feels like a close friend that I’ve known my whole life. And the more time we spend together, the more I—“

“The more you what?”

“I don’t even know, Mom. Like there’s these things he does, I don’t know if he’s just being nice or what, but he does these little things that make me so happy. He brings me coffee in the mornings when he drops his niece off at school, leaves little notes for me on the cups— I save them Mom, I have a stack of these coffee cups in my kitchen.”

You hear a muffled hum, her signal that she’s already preparing her response to what you have to share, but allowing you to continue.

“He came to one of my classes, and you know what he did? He painted a portrait of me— who does that?! And now, we text each other all the time and I can’t stop smiling when his name pops up on my phone, because I can’t stop thinking of him. Then he gave me this cute nickname that makes my insides turn to goo any time he says it and I— I…”

“You love him, don’t you?”

“Yeah— I do.”

The air is dry, heat waves dancing across the scorching cement, an array of popular songs blaring from the DJ booth situated on the green lawn adjacent to the hotel’s pool deck.

The re-grand opening celebration of The Capri in full effect.

The hotel had been drawing in plenty of guests after the renovation, rooms booked out regularly, a quintessential tourist destination for the small town. Its mid-century design of wood, natural tones and pops of color paired with the sleek modern aesthetic throughout the hotel’s property was beginning to be recognized by many publications, all looking to showcase the hotel’s unique style in upcoming pieces.

The hotel’s name, big white block letter signage, sits atop the covered entryway. A parked yellow Chevy Deluxe adds to the ambiance of the building’s timeless look.

Giant palm trees and tropical-esque plants in terracotta pots decorate the grounds of the hotel. Small gardens with intimate seating had been strategically placed for optimal usage. A large lawn space in the back was draped in string lighting and had the perfect view of daily sunsets. The pool itself was a perfect backdrop for a day of relaxing, vintage woven lawn chairs and oversized umbrellas lined each side of the large pool surrounded by lush greenery.

Dieter was able to snag a chair early on, perks of knowing the hotel owner, the umbrella shade blocking enough of the sun to make the extremely warm weather bearable.

He’s trying his best to enjoy himself, knowing he’s doing Diem a favor keeping an eye on Wren while she’s running around doing her hotel-party hostess duties, but the growing crowd of guests and invitees feel more overwhelming, reminding him of the elaborate Hollywood parties he’s attended.

Only a few people have stopped to ask for autographs or pictures, slightly surprised there’s still a fan base that has an interest in him these days.

“How come they don’t want me to sign their papers? I know how to write my name too!” Wren, her voice tinged with a pouty tone, says from where she’s lounging on her chair next to him.

“I don’t know, Birdie. Next time, you can sign your name too, seems only fair.”

“Okay. I can draw a heart for them too.”

Wren, satisfied with the compromise, goes back to sipping on her iced lemonade and watching one of her shows on her iPad, zero interest in what's going on around her.

“How’s she doing?” Diem asks as she sits on the edge of the Wren’s chair, placing another lemonade on the small accent table between the two of them.

“She’s good, wanted to take a break from swimming for a bit. You, umm— hear from Poppy yet?”

“Why? You finally going to tell her you’ve got it bad for her??”

Grateful his sunglasses are dark enough to block the eye roll intended for Diem, he glances over to see Wren still absorbed into her show then back to Diem and whispering a low -fuck off- accompanied with a playful middle finger.

“She texted me a bit ago, said she was running late, but would be here soon— Oh! Speak of the devil, look who just arrived. I’m going to go say hi and I’ll send her over so you can tell her how much you’ve missed her.” Diem’s menacing voice earns her another middle finger from Dieter, leaving him to greet you properly.

Dieter catches sight of you weaving through the pack of bodies meandering around the pool, taking in how your face lights up the minute you see Diem welcoming you with a hug, both of you embracing each other as if you hadn'tnd just hung out days prior.

He’s seen you in your casual clothes outside of school before. Usually a pair of favorite jeans and t-shirt, a sundress sprinkled in on warmer days, but something about seeing you in a bathing suit and shorts has his brain short-circuiting almost instantly.

Tilting his head forward, his pointer finger pulling his sunglasses slowly down the bridge of his nose. He’s completely taken aback, mesmerized by you, noting every little detail— your captivating features that make him absolutely weak, every delicate curve so perfectly placed, each flaw you try so hard to hide merely a perfect addition to your allurement.

The second you and Diem turn in his direction, he’s shaken out of his trance, trying to focus on anything to make his blatant staring seem less obvious.

“I see an open chair next to Dieter, do you think he’ll mind if I hang out with them?” You point to the open space next Dieter, who is helping Wren navigate something on her iPad.

Unfortunately, as you say it, you notice a beautiful woman sitting in the lounger you were inquiring about. You try your best to keep the tinge of jealousy concealed, the last thing you want is to draw any sort of attention to your feelings for Dieter at this time.

“Never mind, I’m sure I’ll find somewhere to set my stuff.” There’s a subtle hint of sadness in your eyes, avoiding watching the women openly flirt with him.

“Babe, you good?” Diem sensing the shift in your demeanor instantly. Peering back at Dieter to see the interaction he’s having with the woman, who now has her hand on his arm, caressing it as she tilts her head and openly ogles him— her fake laugh is a dead give away that she only sees Dieter for his Star Status and nothing more.

“Yeah— y-yeah, I’m good.” Forcing a somewhat convincing smile.

“Hey, I’ve got to go check on catering, make sure everything is running on time and then I’m going to grab Wren for her nap— the last thing I need is a 6 year old meltdown. Don’t worry about her, she doesn’t really seem like his type anyways. We’ll catch up in a bit.” Giving you another hug, letting it linger for a minute, then Diem takes off in the direction of the catering truck.

You’re left standing there, feeling exposed and alone among a sea of strangers. Nervously scanning anywhere but in the direction of where Dieter and the woman are clearly flirting. You contemplate what an appropriate amount of time to spend here would be, before slipping out unnoticed.

It reminds of you showing up to a middle school dance, dressed in the new fancy dress you picked out for the special occasion in hopes of seeing the cute boy, who’s name you spent most of the school year scribbling in your notebooks. Only to walk into the dimly lit and poorly decorated gymnasium to see he is with the head cheerleader and they’re both making heart eyes at each in the middle of the dance floor.

Part of you wants to shrink into the shadows of the crowd, ruminate over the signals you read completely wrong this whole time. Dieter was just being nice, friendly— at no fault of his. You blame yourself for thinking he might have some interest in you, reading into the little details and thinking that you were even his type— clearly far from it.

An up tempo song blasts through the speakers, amping the tone of the party up and pulling you out of your brief moment of sulking.

Friends. Just friends. Dieter and you are friends and that has to be enough for you.

You head in the direction of the open bar, hoping an ice cold beverage will help unburden your angsty thoughts.

“We should hang out sometime!” Dieter cringes at the advances this random woman keeps making towards him.

If this wasn’t his sisters hotel, he’d probably wouldn’t feel bad in being harsh and telling this woman to fuck right off. But he doesn’t want to cause a scene, not knowing how she would react to his rejection.

“Umm, I don’t know— I’ve got a lot going on right now.” Let her down easy.

“Oh come on! You’re not doing anything, you just got out of rehab— and they’ve got you trapped in this boring town too. I’m sure we could find something fun to do together. I know a few parties are happening in WeHo coming up, I can make a few calls— get some treats to liven things up.” Her hand still fondling his arm.

He winces at her crass comment, a reminder of why he chose to escape the acrimonious world of Hollywood.

He doesn’t have a single regret about being here in Ojai either, he enjoys its simplicity and is starting to feel like he could see himself here long term.

“Look, I’m sure you're nice and all— but I’m not interested.”

“Okay, well we can do something else then. How about we go back to my room, I’m staying here.” Wiggling her hotel key between her fingers.

She’s clearly not grasping at the obvious hint Dieter is giving her.

“No, I’m not interested in your room or you.” He says politely, grabbing her hand and removing it from his arm.

“What do you mean?!”

“He has a girlfriend, lady!” Wren piped up in Dieter’s defense.

“Wait! You have a kid? And a girlfriend?”

“No— to both things.”

“God, rehab made you so fucking boring.” She scoffed, offended by his sobriety and his lack of interest in her.

“Okay, so what we’re not going to do is that, my niece is right here. You can go now.”

She didn’t hesitate at his request, grabbing her things and walking away— pretending to be unbothered by the rejection.

“Sorry about that Birdie. Some people are just—“

“Weird!”

“Yeah, weird. Hey, Birdie?”

“Yeah.”

“I know you think Poppy is— she’s not my girlfriend, we’re just friends. So, let’s maybe not call her that anymore okay?” Although, he likes the way the two words mix together in the same sentence.

He worries it’s going to slip in your presence, he knows wren means no harm by it, but he would hate for you to feel uncomfortable if you ever were to hear her say it.

“Mhmm.” Her non-committal response earns her a laugh, fully focused on her show like nothing ever happened.

Dieter takes in the lively atmosphere around him. Laughter emanating from the party guests gathered in small groups around the pool, a carefree crowd dancing throughout the lawn area, smiles plastered on everyone’s faces— he couldn’t be more proud of Diem and all she has accomplished.

Readjusting the collar of his colorful half buttoned shirt, Dieter settles back into the chair, letting the sun kiss every bit of his exposed skin.

“How are things going over here?” Diem quietly asked, pulling Dieter from his ruminative thoughts.

Diem scoots Wren’s listless legs over to allow room for her to sit down, leaning over she grabs the device from her tiny sleepy hands, Wren’s little head nodding as she struggles to keep her drowsy eyes open.

“No complaints, looks like you had a good turnout. I’m really proud of you Diem, not just all of this,” His hand pointing around to her accomplishments on display in the form of a successfully running hotel and her well executed re-grand opening festivities. “But with Wren too. I’m glad that I got this chance to be with you both.”

“Don’t go getting all sappy on me—“ Her voice wobbly and soft as she beams at his acknowledgment of her dedication to her work and Wren. “Thank you. And I wouldn’t have been able to pull this off without your help.”

Dieter nods, mirroring her heartfelt gratitude.

“Have you seen Poppy? I saw you both talking earlier.” He hopes he doesn’t sound too desperate, wanting to know your whereabouts, if you’re okay and why you’re not here— with him.

“She didn’t make it over?” His brows draw together, shaking his head slightly. Her nose wrinkled at the realization of why you hadn’t come over.

“What?”

“She saw you and your— little friend earlier, I don’t know for sure, but she seemed somewhat saddened by it. I’m surprised she didn’t come over though.”

“Shit! I gotta go. You good with her.” He stands abruptly, an unnerving feeling creeping up from his chest, hoping you didn’t mistake what you saw for anything but an awkward fan interaction.

“Yeah, go. I’m going to go put her down in my office.” Scooping up Wren’s sleeping frame. “Dieter?”

He turns back to her calling his name, hands flexing at his side, a nervous tick of his, as he waits for what Diem has to add.

“You should tell her.”

He’s not sure why it’s so difficult to find someone in a somewhat enclosed area. His eyes scanning every ecstatic face as he sidesteps through conversations anchored in effervescent exuberance, a stark contrast from his growing collection of spiraling thoughts.

If he could just find you, explain the situation to you in its entirety.

Explain how he truly feels.

How you'rer his first thought when he wakes in the morning, the giddy anticipation of seeing how beholden you are as he hands you the coffee he picks up from the bakery Wren and him stop at before school, how he takes in the way you tilt your head just enough to read the ridiculous notes he scribbles on the sides of each cup, “Have a Brewtiful Day!” “Better latte than never.”—each one extracting the most intoxicating laugh.

How he looks forward to seeing your face light up at his stupid jokes, never once admitting how horrible you think they are.

How you’re an added reason for him to want to be sober, never wanting to be on the receiving end of your disappointment in him. He wants that rewarding experience of seeing how proud you are of him.

And how he wants nothing more than to have you in his arms— morning, noon and night, keeping you as close as he possibly can, terrified that you’ll disappear the moment he lets you go.

His world seems to come to a standstill, everything he had been working up the courage to tell you, drained from his mind instantly.

Utterly shattered by the sight of you.

That smile of yours, paired with a full body laugh, directed at the man standing next to you. Your hand holding the top of his oversized bulging bicep as his large hand gently cups your elbow, leaning into each other as you both exchange words.

A reality he hadn’t even considered in the time he spent looking for you— you being happy with someone who isn’t him.

Crushed.

Confused.

Broken.

It’s a dizzying sensation. A chance lost— or so he thinks.

Rubbing his hands against his shorts, removing the evidence of his anxious response to seeing you wrapped up in what looked like an intimate conversation, his head still in a fogged state of shock.

He manages to will his body to move from where he’s been standing. His jaw ticks anxiously, surrounded by bodies dancing around his blurry peripherals. Releasing a deep sigh, he looks back to you once more, looking for what he hopes is closure.

Instead, he catches the moment the man you’d been friendly with, gesturing a goodbye as he retreats from the space he’d been sharing with you.

Dieter watches the way your expression morphs from bright and bubbly to soft and muted the minute you're alone, leaning against the cocktail table with your face tucked into your shoulder, closing yourself off from everything and everyone.

“Mind if I join you?” Dieter calmly approaches you, still holding on to the single thread of hope that he didn’t lose his chance.

“Hey! Of course you can.” Your face instantly lights up at the sight of him, patting the open spot on the table, genuinely welcoming him to be with you.

“I hope I’m not interrupting anything?”

“What do you mean?” A line appears between your brows, shifting your body to fully face him with one arm still draped over the table top, your fingers casually drawing shapes onto the silky thin table cloth.

“The guy, I saw you talking to him— looks like he works out, a lot— the man is very hot.” Words fumbling out of his mouth, as he points back in the direction he thinks he saw the muscular guy head in. “I just mean, I don’t want to interrupt if there’s something potentially happening there.”

Your lips pressed together in an attempt to fight off the urge to laugh.

“What?”

“There was nothing happening there, like at all. That was Dan, he’s a good friend and he comes to classes at the gallery. I’d offer to introduce you two, since you think he’s so hot, but he just got back from his honeymoon— with his equally hot husband. We were just catching up.”

Dieter winces at your explanation of who the man was, feeling like an idiot for so foolishly assuming you were falling for the guy.

“Besides, he’s not really my type.” You state boldly with your head cocked to the side, one eye squinting to block the sun rays as you take stock of the way the sunlight tangles in his hair.

“Where’s your friend from earlier? She was really pretty. You both really seem to be hitting it off earlier.” Keeping your tone neutral, looking down at where your fingers are now pulling at a loose thread on the tablecloth, preparing yourself for how his response is definitely going to wreck you.

His hand settles next to yours, his fingers nervously tapping onto the hard surface.

“Actually, I have no clue who she was— didn’t even ask for her name, didn’t want to know it either. Sure, she was pretty and maybe in different circumstances I might have been interested in her… She was pissed though when I turned her down, I actually had to tell her to leave.”

“Really— Why?” Your attention drawn back up to where he’s still studying you, his brown eyes locked with yours, now etched in a glistening golden light from the setting sun.

He lifted his shoulders in a gentle shrug, taking a deep breath as he looked at you, “She just isn’t who I’m interested in.”

When you think back to when you were growing up, constantly daydreaming about what it would feel like the moment you realized you were in love, and if it would feel as good to have that same feeling reciprocated back to you, by someone who wholeheartedly felt the same way.

You decide that this is that moment, and it’s even better than you imagined it would be.

Dieter’s eyes drift over to the table, his hand slowly inching closer to yours, the light brush of his fingers over the top of your hand is electric, your breath catching as he begins to intertwine his fingers with yours.

His thumb, tender as it slowly smooths over the ridges of your hand, glancing back to you to make sure that there’s no sign of discomfort in your face— you squeeze your fingers, a silent ‘I’m more than okay with this’.

A breeze picks up, his hair tousling around as it blows through where you both are standing. You lift your free hand to swipe the hanging curls out of his face, your fingers taking liberty to rake through his downy hair, each curl bouncing back into place.

“What’s your type then?” It’s menacing the way his husky voice cuts through the steady silence, encouraging you to share with him.

“Hmm…Tall, funny, sweet, driven, pretty— like really fucking pretty. Also has to answer to Uncle Dude in the presence of a sweet little 6 year old. Know of anyone who might fit that description?”

He nods along as you list off each quality, his eyes lighting up at mentioning good-looking.

“That’s quite the list.” He quips, your breathy laugh prompting a lopsided grin from him. “So— pretty, huh?”

“Yeah— really fucking pretty.” Your words are drawn out in a sincere manner, noting the way his eyes crinkle a little at the compliment.

Dieter’s hand nestles at the base of your neck, drawing your body closer to him. His touch potent and satisfying, as he commits to memory the way your skin feels beneath his fingertips, gliding them down your bare spine leaving goosebumps in their wake— his gaze never leaving yours.

“You’re interested in someone?” The answer seems obvious, but you want to hear it from him.

“Poppy, you gotta know it’s you—“ He utters earnestly with both of his hands now cupping your cheeks, watching the way your lips part as he leans in closer. “I lo— like you so fucking much Poppy, you’re the only one I’m interested in.”

The way he started to say that he loves you, it feels like you might float away, anchoring your hands on his wrists. Everything tingles in your stomach, he’s so close, his breath fanning over your lips. Your lashes flutter as he slowly angles your face, his nose brushing against yours.

It’s a whirlwind of energy drifting between both of you, building intensity with each passing second, the finality of the moment bound to be explosive.

Tiny hairs of his mustache grazing the underside of your nose. The top of his lip begins to settle over yours, it’s pillowy weight slowly meeting your—

*RING RING RING*

“Fuck!” The word vibrates across your upper lip at the vexing sound of Dieter’s phone ringing, offensively interrupting the flow of your almost kiss and urging him to answer it.

“I swear, if that’s Diem—“ A picture of Diem and Wren lights up the phone screen, his thumb swiping across to accept the call, he stands to his full height as he presses the device to his ear. “Hey, what’s up?… Okay… Yeah…Yeah, I’ll be there in a minute then… Love you too, bye.” Dieter ends the call and shoves his phone back into his pocket.

The entire phone conversation, his focus remains on you. His free hand never leaves the side of your face, thumb stoking across the warmed apple of your cheek—Your hand still holding on to him, the cadence of his heart-rate is rapid against your palm.

“Diem?”

“Yeah, she said Wren wanted to go home. She has to stay for another hour or two, make sure things close out here before she can head home.” He explains, zero annoyance detected in his face. “You okay?”

“Y-yeah, I’m perfect.” You say softly, an airy smile spreading across your face. “What do we do now?”

Dieter takes in your question, so many answers floating around in his mind, but none of them feel sufficient enough at this moment, wanting to properly share everything he’s been feeling without being rushed or interrupted.

He leans back into your space, his lips pressing a chaste kiss between your brows before resting his forehead against yours.

“We’ll figure it out as we go.”

#sweet creature series #dieter bravo x fem!reader #dieter bravo x you #dieter bravo x f!reader #dieter bravo x reader #dieter bravo x female reader #dieter bravo #pedro pascal #dieter x poppy #wildemaven writes

387 notes · View notes

damianodavds · 6 days

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Teacher’s Pet (A Duff McKagan FanFiction)

a/n: I originally wrote this fanfiction for another fandom which I posted and then deleted in 2020. I am the original writer of this storyline, this is my idea. This story has been re-written and edited. I am sharing this story earlier than expected because the text post about it was popular.

a/n #2: If you blink you’ll miss the appearance of axl.

warnings: smut, alcohol & drug use. Minors, do not interact please. Also there is no age!gap in this story. Everything will make sense when you read it until the end.

It was the first Monday after summer vacation. You were walking down the hallway to get to your classroom so you could greet your new students for the year at Vista Clara High School.

You had your hands full of folders with the new reading, projects and assignments material. Once you got to the room, you unlocked the door and put your bag and work on the desk.

Ten minutes later and the bell rang, you walked to the door and opened it to say ‘hello’ to your students as they walked in. Once the last student walked in and took their seat you shut the door.

“Good morning class and welcome to AP English 12, this year we will be studying the work of…” A knock was heard at the door, cutting you off mid sentence and everyone stopped listening to look.

You opened the door to see the principal and a young man with him. “Hello Y/N, I am sure you had a good summer. Please let me introduce you to Duff. He just moved here from New York. He shouldn’t be a problem for you as he was transferred from a college level prep school”.

“Welcome Duff.” You said to him with a smile as principal McDonald left the room.

Duff gazed at you as he walked past your desk and winked at you as he took the empty seat in the front row.

You brushed it off as you started your lecture on The Great Gatsby.

During the long lecture, Duff would fool around with his classmates. This made you really upset but you didn’t want to say anything to cause a scene.

“Please write a report on the first five chapters of The Great Gatsby to be due in two weeks”. You explained to the class as the bell rang.

“See you on Saturday for the pool party, Duff”. Axl said as he was the last student to leave the room.

When Axl left, Duff shut the door and looked at you with a smile. “Listen, I want to apologize for the way I acted in class today. I hope it wasn’t a bad first impression.”

Before you could respond with an answer, Duff cut you off. “Why don’t you come to my apartment on Friday night and I’ll cook you dinner to show you there are no hard feelings.” You knew it wasn’t right to meet your students outside of school but Duff seemed harmless. You were intrigued by him so you nodded in agreement.

“See you then, Y/N.” Duff told you as he left you speechless. You sighed as the next group of students entered the room. It was going to be a long week.

**********

It was Friday evening and you were getting ready to meet Duff. You wore ripped jeans, t-shirt and a neon blue cardigan. You left home after an hour and drove twenty minutes to Duff’s apartment.

When you got there, you parked your car and proceeded to walk up to his building. You looked up his name on the list and pressed three numbers to call him.

“Hello”. Duff answered after three rings.

“Duff, it’s Y/N from school. I am waiting downstairs”. You replied.

Duff unlocked the door and you opened it. You walked to the elevator to take you to the fourth floor where Duff lived.

When you finally exited the elevator, you noticed that the door to Duff’s unit was opened and he was waiting for you.

“Hello.” You said as you entered his apartment.

“Hey, you just made it and just in time too!” Duff explained as he walked over to give you a hug.

After the hug, you took off your cardigan and gently put it on the couch that was near you. You sat at the dinner table as Duff poured you a glass of wine.

While enjoying your meal together, Duff told you stories of being a small child in New York. He even mentioned how close he was to his little sister, whom he protected as they got older.

Once dinner was finished, you helped Duff clean up and then moved to the couch to continue the conversation.

“So after university I settled in Los Angeles and started a job as a substitute teacher in an elementary school. My dream was always to teach in a high school. After gaining some experience, I applied at different school districts and finally got a call from Vista Clara. The rest is history.” You told Duff as you smiled.

“You are amazing, do you know that?”

You blushed and didn’t say anything. You were lost for words.

“Listen, let me show you something. Do you trust me?” Duff asked.

You nodded, not knowing what you were getting yourself into.

Duff stood up for a few minutes and took out a plastic bag that was hidden in his bookshelf.

The bag contained four small pink pills with the face of a devil. You started to get nervous as Duff sat beside you and took two pills out of the bag. He put both of them in his mouth and pulled you by your t-shirt. Duff kissed you softly and you felt him push one of the pills into your mouth with his tongue.

After a few moments, you suddenly felt a haze as you went under the high of the drug you took. As you were deep in the feeling of ecstasy you put your arms around Duff’s neck as the kiss deepened. You laid down as Duff got on top of you. You took a break from the kiss to take your shirt off as Duff unbuttoned his. Once your skin was bare, Duff kissed down your chest as he unhooked your bra. When he got to the button of your jeans you became wet as you thought of how far he would go. Suddenly, you felt Duff pulling your jeans off. When he finally got to your underwear, he licked them as they were covering your clit. You moaned as Duff replaced his mouth with his finger and you held your breath as you climaxed.

Once the drug faded away, you both moved to Duff’s bedroom to cuddle until morning.

**********

On Monday morning, You entered the school with a bright feeling. You couldn’t believe that you spent the whole weekend with Duff.

While in your day dream, the bell rang for the first period. You quickly rushed to your classroom. Once you shut the door and organize your desk, you overheard your students whispering about something.

“Do you remember that weird guy Duff we met last week?” Britney said as another student nodded in agreement.

“Rumor has it that he is really 25 years old. He had a very sad childhood where his parents left him alone with the nanny and she seduced him for years. Now as an adult, he goes around different states pretending to be a high school kid. He does this to get close to his teacher and seduce them. I heard he seduces male teachers too. Then, before he can get caught, he runs off with a student.”

You couldn’t believe what your students were saying about Duff. You now noticed that not only was Duff missing from your class but also your top student Cheryl was absent too.

You decided to brush off what your students were doing. “Attention students, please continue to work on your Great Gatsby report.” Once your class started working, you took a seat at your desk. As you got settled, you looked out the window and hoped Duff would be caught in his wild ways once and for all.

end

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