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delaber · 3 years

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Three-Point Perspective (Part 2)

Rafael Casal x Reader x Daveed Diggs

Note: Guys! When I wrote Three-Point Perspective, I wasn’t planning on adding a second part to it but the amount of support was so overwhelming that I just had to do a sequel ...And let me tell you; I am so glad you guys wanted it because this was so much fun! I have never been more challenged with a story-line, portraying emotions, changing perspectives, and just the plot in general. I have never never never changed a story-line as much as I did for this one, haha! Crazy amounts of shout-outs and thanks to my amazing mate @einfachniemand for listening to countless of ideas, for feedback on several snippets, for being supportive af, and for telling me “yeah, no, that doesn’t work. Back to the drawing board.” Thank you boo! You are amazing! A huge thanks to @theatrenerd86 for starting off this sequel by providing the settings - and for just being the most supportive human being ever! Mwah! Also a huge thanks to the rest of you for your endless support! I love this community! (Oh, and anon; thanks for the (quite old, sorry) prompt but I didn’t do it for Rafa (sorry once again)). Let me know what you guys think!

Words: 13.8K

Warnings: Oh my goodness, I don’t even wanna get started... Blood, heartbreak, angst (my three tropes)

Rafael

Rafa almost tripped over his own two feet as he stumbled over to the bar and desperately ordered a large whiskey shooter. He was having a hard time keeping calm; his heart was beating fast in his chest, his throat closing in on itself, his hairline soaked in panic-sweat. He needed to put what had just happened in the very seat he was standing in front of at a distance. His hands were still itching to punch something! He needed the fucking drink!

The bartender had barely stopped pouring Maker's Mark into a small glass before Rafa quickly grabbed it and chugged its contents down his throat, desperately trying to block out what he had just witnessed.

Your tongue in his best friend's ear.

Diggs' hand sliding up your thigh.

The sensual smile you'd worn as Diggs had whispered promising words in your ear.

"Oh god," Rafa groaned as he recalled your excited smile as his best friend had escorted you out of the bar, his hand dipping uncomfortably low on your hips.

Desperately clutching the now empty whiskey glass, Rafa tried relentlessly to push away the image of what you and Diggs probably were in the midst of doing right now. Oh shit, oh no... His chest was stinging, his stomach aching horribly at the thought of you and Diggs fucking. Oh god. He tried to shift his focus to the burning sensation down his esophagus instead and quickly ordered another shooter.

It didn't take long before the bartender had placed another glass of golden-brown liquid in front of him that he quickly downed in one go, thinking about how stupid he was for not having acted on his feelings for you earlier. He had had eight fucking years to do so after all?! Why the fuck hadn't he just pulled himself together and called you up?! He wanted to punch something! He wanted to get fucked up! He wanted to call someone and get them to deliver a big fucking bag of blow - but he settled on a third shooter.

He gulped down the whiskey as the aggression subsided and was replaced by the same type of jealousy-induced heartburn that he had felt earlier that night. Fucking Daveed Diggs and the way he always seemed to be able to wrap women around his little finger! In eight minutes, he had managed to do to you what Rafa hadn't managed to do for eight years. Fuck him!

A fourth whiskey went down Rafa's throat as the jealousy was replaced by hurtful pangs in his chest; shit it hurt to think about you and Diggs together. Rafa knew that you had had a few men in your life since the summer in the taco truck, and even though it had stung to see pictures of your romances on Instagram, it didn't hurt half as much as seeing his best friend escort you out of the bar.

He ordered another whiskey. And another one after that. And then an entire bottle of Jameson just to recall the taste of your lips that night on top of the skate ramps all those years ago. Quickly, Rafa gulped down most of the bottle, his eyes watering from the sharp taste of alcohol on his tongue, but no matter how much he drank, he still wasn't able to get image of you and Diggs out of his head. It had etched itself on the back of his eyelids, somehow becoming clearer and clearer with every gulp of fiery liquid.

It didn't take long before he had reached the half-way mark on the bottle of Jameson, completely lost in constantly checking his phone to see if you had tried to contact him to tell him that Diggs by some miracle had blown his shot. You hadn't. And even though Rafa doubted that you would, he still couldn't put the phone away.

He was fumbling about on the screen as he accidentally found Diggs' name on the list of contacts. Completely lost in contemplating whether or not he should call him up and tell him to stay the fuck away from you, he jumped a little when he suddenly felt a soft hand on his shoulder. For about a mili-second, Rafa believed that the soft touch belonged to you, but as soon as he had whipped around in his seat, he felt the disappointment cloud his mind as he was met by his make-up artist Janelle instead. "Oh, hey," he spoke in an uninterested tone of voice, his words a little slurred from the amount of whiskey he'd been drinking.

"Rafa, honey, are you okay?" She looked at him with kind eyes, "you seem a little out of it."

"I'm great," he slurred into his whiskey glass before emptying it for what felt like the 100th time that night, "I'm fucking perfect! This night's just absolutely fucking perfect."

Janelle furrowed her brows and pushed the bottle of Jameson out of Rafa's reach, "is it because of Daveed and -"

"- DON'T say her name," Rafa warned, his voice turning to a low drunk growl afterwards, "I don't want to think about it."

Janelle sat down on the empty barstool next to him and sent him a slow nod, "yeah, I was afraid this might happen..." she sighed and sent him a pitiful look.

"That what might happen?" Rafa drunkenly mumbled, trying to avoid her gaze.

"Honey... I've seen the way you look at her," Janelle whispered and reassuringly put her hand on Rafa's arm as she searched his face for any kind of affirmation. Rafa groaned and met her eyes shortly before she softly added, "- and I've seen the way Daveed looks at her too."

Rafa gulped to keep the slowly forming lump in this throat at bay, "...so you don't think it's just a one-night thing?" He croaked in a small whisper, the pain in his chest suddenly twice as hurtful as before.

Janelle shook her head slowly, shooting Rafa a careful look.

"And - uhm," Rafa cleared his throat "- do you think that - uh - she's into him as well?" He added in a whisper, his face involuntarily screwed up as he was afraid to hear the answer.

"I don't know, honey," Janelle said diplomatically and pulled him in for a tight hug, inaudibly giving away that she definitely thought so. Rafa appreciated Janelle's attempt to salvage the situation and let her comfort him for a couple of seconds before she slowly let go of him again, sending him a heartfelt look in the process. "Do you want to talk about it?" She asked.

"No..." Rafa mumbled and reached for the bottle that Janelle had pushed away moments before.

She grabbed his arm and forced it down in his lap instead, "why don't you leave the bottle and instead call it a night, boo? You've been drinking quite a lot already."

Rafa gulped a little and realised that she was right. Nothing good would come from sitting at the bar, drowning his sorrows in cheap whiskey. "Yeah," he groaned as he ran a hand through his damp hair, "yeah... You're right. Might be a good idea..."

"Go grab your jacket. I'll call you a cab, okay?"

"Thanks," Rafa mumbled before scrambling to his feet, swaying a little from side to side. He managed to balance himself and stagger over to the coat check where he retrieved his leather jacket and slowly pulled it on with great difficulty.

"I got you," Janelle was suddenly behind him, helping him pull the jacket up his arms.

"Thanks," Rafa mumbled as he pulled on the collar to rearrange the leather over his shoulders.

"You wanna say bye to the rest of the crew?" Janelle piped from behind him.

He shot a quick glance across the room and towards the table that his friends were occupying. "I better set an example," he mumbled even though he'd rather be sitting in a cab on his way home right now.

With his arm around Janelle, and her hand on his chest to steady him, Rafa walked over to his co-stars, putting up his best attempt at a cheerful smile, "I'm off guys. Have a lovely evening," he slurred drunkenly.

He thought to himself that he was doing a tremendous job of hiding away his hurt feelings until he noticed their stiff smiles. Suddenly, he realised by the sympathetic looks they were all shooting him from their seats, that they were well-aware of what was going on. Rafa quickly scanned their silent, pained faces one by one until Alessandro - one of the leads - finally spoke up, "see you Monday boss!"

Annoyed with their pitiful eyes, Rafa mumbled a, "see you Monday, bruh," and turned around, facing Janelle again as the others awkwardly looked away. It made him feel stupid.

"Cab's outside," Janelle tried to smile and pulled him in for a hug, "are you going to be okay, boo?"

"I don't know," Rafa croaked truthfully against her neck and let her pull him just a little closer.

"Call me tomorrow, okay?" She let go of him, "We'll do something fun."

"Okay," Rafa slurred, his eyes stinging as he turned away from her and towards the exit.

Slowly, he stumbled out of the bar and hopped into the yellow cab outside, closing his eyes desperately in the backseat, trying to block out any thought of you and Diggs but failing horribly. The ride home was the longest drive of Rafa's life, his thoughts sporadic and unorganised but all centred around the same thing: what would he come home to? Had you and Diggs gone to your place? Or to Diggs' place that he just happened to share with Rafa? Fuck, he almost couldn't bear the thought of coming home to meet Diggs balls deep in you on the couch. Rafa would never purposely punch Diggs, but if he came home to face that, he wasn't sure he'd be able to hold back his itching fist.

"He's your best friend," Rafa mumbled to himself as a reminder, hoping to calm himself down, "he's your best friend. He didn't know. He's innocent... - well apart from fucking your girl..."

Everything inside him was on fire.

"You alright back there, mate?" The cab driver shot Rafa a look in the rear-view mirror, apparently concerned about the whispered words, he'd heard coming from the backseat.

"Yeah," Rafa replied unenthusiastically, a little annoyed that everybody seemed to be so concerned with him - but he eventually stopped thinking out loud.

For the remainder of the trip, the driver kept his mouth shut too but annoyingly enough constantly checked in on Rafa in the rear-view mirror.

Rafa was relieved when the driver finally pulled over outside his home and paid him quickly, slamming the car door shut with much force, hoping to alleviate some of the all-consuming itch that he felt deep in his bones. Little did it help. He still wanted to punch something.

Rafa turned his attention towards the house and gave out a short sigh before he started swaying up the paved pathway in the small yard, briefly stopping before he reached the front door. He prayed that you had taken Diggs to your place and not the other way around. He couldn't handle being faced with his worst nightmare - and especially not after having had so much to drink. Right now, he couldn't account for how he'd react.

He stood with his key in hand for a while, scared of what might come, but eventually realised that he would have to go inside at some point. With a deep sigh, he slowly slid his key in the lock and turned it around, his palms sweating terribly. He felt his heart sinking down to the bottom of his stomach when the key didn't meet any kind of resistance, and he realised that the door was already unlocked.

Fuck... Diggs had taken you here.

With a burning sensation in his chest, Rafa quietly pushed open the front door and stepped inside the small hallway, closing the door behind him with a small thump. He closed his eyes and threw his head up against the wooden door, forcing himself to relax by taking three deep breaths - a technique he had learned from his mother when he had been nervous about doing spoken words for the first time at fifteen.

He focused on his breathing for a few seconds and after having exhaled a third time - already more relaxed than before - he opened his eyes and took in the room. He immediately saw that the floor of the narrow hallway was decorated with several pieces of discarded garments strewn randomly about on the stone floor.

Diggs' pants. Your dress. Your bra.

"No..." Rafa groaned quietly as he took in the pieces of clothes with a hard gulp, the tears stinging in his eyes when he realised what he was being confronted with. "No, no, no!" he buried his face in his hands and took a deep breath to get himself under control again. His entire chest was on fire, the taste of stomach acid thick on his tongue. Everything around him went quiet as he heaved in a big gulp of air, wishing that he had stayed sober tonight. This was all getting too much; he couldn't control it. He was too drunk.

He took another big gulp of air, and was just about to slowly exhale when a soft sound hit his ear canal... It was coming from the other room.

A moan.

A sweet, heartfelt, sensual moan.

From a woman - from you...

It was the result of a sincere reaction to something that had brought you immense pleasure. A moan that someone else had brought to your lips. A moan that Rafa's best friend had brought to your lips.

Fuck! The itch in his hands that he had felt for quite some time now suddenly became too much and he punched the wall hard, causing an old, framed picture of him and Diggs to fall down, the frame shattering in several pieces on the cold stone floor. He stared at the broken shards of glass for a few seconds, torturing himself by carefully listening for more of your sweet moans echoing throughout the house.

They didn't come, however. The entire house was suddenly completely silent. Thank god.

Slowly, Rafa squatted down to brush the glass-dust off your dress, the silky fabric soft between his fingertips as he pulled the dress to his chest, thinking about what it would feel like to be the one to pull it off you.

Without warning, however, the silence in the hallway was broken by another loud moan coming from Diggs' personal space and Rafa was quickly brought out of his trance. He had to get out of there! He would go to a hotel or something! Anything to get away from the sounds you were making for another man!

Slightly panicked, Rafa shuffled to get to his feet, but overbalanced and fell forwards, his left hand immediately softening the blow as a reflex. From the moment his palm hit the floor, Rafa felt a sharp pain in his hand, but didn't realise that he had cut himself before he rotated his elbow and saw the huge piece of broken glass that was prodding out of his palm. "You're kidding me," he groaned as he tried to focus on the glass shard before he grabbed it tightly and forcefully pulled it out of his skin, the warm blood immediately running down his hand as a terribly sharp pain started pulling at his fingers. "OH FUCK!" he exclaimed a little louder than he had intended to, unable to hold back in his inebriated state.

Pressing in on the wound to try and get it to stop bleeding, he hurried to the bathroom and quickly located an old towel that he wrapped tightly around his bloody hand. "Shit! Oh fuck that hurts!" He groaned loudly and slid down the wall, his ass hitting the cold floor with a small thump. He could hear hushed voices coming from Diggs' personal space next door, and he realised that he had no idea what hurt the most; the thought of you lying in there wearing nothing but your panties, or his throbbing hand that had already bled through the old towel.

"Shit," he mumbled to himself as he replaced the old piece of cloth with a clean one, "ah fuck it hurts!" He hissed and tried to push the wound shut to get it to stop bleeding. It helped for a few seconds before the gash opened back up, fresh blood spilling out again. Just looking at it made him dizzy, and he realised that he couldn't handle this on his own. He was too drunk. He needed help. Embarrassed by himself and the situation he had put himself in, he took a deep breath before calling out the name of the last person on earth he wanted to see right now, "DIGGS!"

The hushed voices from the other side of the wall died down completely. They'd heard him. Still, there was no response to his cry for help. Meanwhile, the second towel around his hand was soaked through as well. What if he was about to bleed out? What if he was spending his last moments, pathetically heartbroken on his own bathroom floor?

"DIGGS!" he tried again, this time a little more panic to his voice.

The entire house was quiet still, and Rafa listened intently for few seconds before he finally heard an angry voice calling from the other side of the wall. "WHAT?"

"Diggs, I need your help!" Rafa called back, embarrassment flooding his voice.

"I'm kind of busy in here, Rafa!" Diggs bellowed back. Rafa had never heard him sound so annoyed before.

"Come on, man... I'm serious," Rafa let out a loud groan as he took in the bloody rag that was wrapped around his hand.

He heard cursing and shuffling on the other side of the wall and a few seconds later, the door to the bathroom finally swung open, revealing a very annoyed Daveed Diggs who was trying to hide away his boxer-clad erection with the palm of his hand.

Upon seeing how Diggs was already hard and ready to fuck Rafa's girl, there was no doubt: The pain in Rafa's chest definitely exceeded the pain in his hand.

Daveed

Daveed could not believe how lucky he was! He had barely closed the front door behind him before you had pulled him in for a string of sensual kisses in the dark. His lips were moving fiercely against your warm skin, your head lolling backwards as you panted and let him press you up against the wall in the hallway. He loved the sensation of your fingers tangled in his long hair as he attacked your neck and jawline with rough, affectionate kisses. You let out a small impatient pant as he untied the bow at the side of your dress, giving himself easier access to your beautiful build underneath as the dress opened up completely.

"Fuck, you look absolutely amazing," he cupped your ass and pressed his pelvis closer to you with a groan.

Your small fingers desperately undid the buttons of his shirt and Daveed quickly shrugged it off, finally standing in front of you in nothing but his dark blue slacks. His lips quickly resumed their positions on your neck where he immediately started sucking and nibbling at the sensitive skin while running his hands all over your torso.

Your fingers desperately found the button of his slacks and Daveed felt the tight sensation of his pants against his crotch disappearing slightly as you brought down the zipper and slid the slacks over his hips. Your small hand was palming him through the cotton of his boxers, and he couldn't stop the groan that fought its way all the way from his stomach and up his throat. He heard you chuckling incredulously above him as you let your dress fall to the ground before you dropped down to your knees in front of him, determinedly pulling his boxers down over his thighs.

Daveed's mind went completely blank when he felt your hand cup his balls while your wet mouth found the tip of his straining erection. Your warm breath against him had him let out an involuntary groan, and when your plump lips kissed his engorged head, the sensation sent a shiver all the way up his spine. He pulled your hair away from your face and held it in a loose ponytail on the back of your head, your eyes interlocking with his in the process. Even though you had him between your teeth, the submissive look you sent him had him feeling incredibly in control! Without giving up eye contact, you kissed his head twice before placing a long, wet lick at the tip of his erection, immediately sending hard vibrations throughout his entire body. "Fuck," he groaned and caressed the side of your face when you wrapped your lips tightly around his head, sucking a bit at the tip.

"Mmmh, pull my hair!" you panted around him and he immediately tugged on the ponytail, buckling his hips closer to your face, desperate to feel the ecstasy of warm, wet, tightness around him again. To Daveed's relief you immediately obliged and slid your lips almost all the way down to his base and back up again, releasing him with a small pop.

"Oh fuck!" He let out a groan as he looked down into your huge, submissive eyes, slowly stroking your cheek. You repeated your motions, your tongue wet and soft against him as you bopped your mouth along his length, his hips meeting you half-way, "yeah, that's it, baby, just like that," he panted softly as you kept gazing up at him, upping the tempo and bringing him all the way down your throat with a slight gag, reminding him of how big he was.

Daveed had received many blowjobs over the years but never in his life had he felt more worshipped and desired! You were massaging his balls lovingly as you brought his length down your throat, hollowing your cheeks and making him feel completely taken care of as you focused solely on his pleasure and enjoyment.

He was just about to let go and cum down your tight throat before he reminded himself that he'd have to take it easy if he wanted to last long enough to fuck you. And holy shit, how he wanted to fuck you! He knew he was very good with his hips and hands and he wanted to bring you pleasures that you'd never even dared dreaming of before.

It was hard to do, but eventually he managed to pull himself out of your wet mouth and you to your feet with a gruff, "come here!". He unclasped your bra and tossed it aside before he pushed you up against the wall, took your nipple in his mouth, and ran his fingers along your lace-covered folds. You let out a soft gasp and he repeated the motions of his fingers while attacking your neck and throat with toothy kisses. You were panting and moaning underneath him, your hand still stroking his erection lovingly.

"Okay, okay, okay, you gotta stop," he licked the shell of your ear with a low chuckle, "I still have so many things I want to do to you," he smacked your ass and you let out a small whimper when his palm came in to contact with your skin.

Slowly, you let go of him and carefully caressed his abs instead as he re-claimed your lips. The kiss was deep and soft, and it made the straining sensation in Daveed's erection even more unbearable, but he was patient enough to not touch himself.

After a few minutes of intense, passionate kissing, you pulled your face away from his and looked up at him with a dark look in your eyes, "well, are you going to do something about it? Or are you going to just leave it at talking?" You chuckled against his skin.

"Don't get cocky with me," Daveed smiled and hoisted you up in his arms. You let out a small yelp, but still threw your legs around his waist and let him carry you to his bedroom while licking his ear. He carefully positioned you with your back against the mattress of his bed and hovered above you as he put his lips to your collarbone, slowly kissing his way down between your breasts, over your stomach, and stopping when he reached the top of your panties. He sat himself down on his knees in front of you, sending you a hungry look as he ran his fingers over your body. You looked him square in the eye and raked a hand through his curls, pulling his head back slightly. The anticipating look you were sending him made his erection twitch between his legs, but he still didn't touch it. Instead, he licked his lips and kissed the laces between your legs. "I love this colour on you," he growled against the thin fabric. He could feel you shiver underneath him as he pulled the red laces down your well-shaped legs, caressing your inner thighs lovingly. "Mmh," he hummed as you spread your legs for him, your fingers still tangled in his hair. Your chest was heaving up and down in a slow, steady rhythm as he placed small kisses on your skin, his tongue just barely grazing you. He enjoyed the way you closed your eyes and dipped your head low as he repeated this motion a few times.

Slowly, he slipped his tongue inside your folds, your lips gently spreading for him as he tasted you. You gasped slightly when he reached your clit and gave it a small flick before he slowly ran his tongue over you again. You were panting above him, your fingers caressing his scalp as your face was screwed up in pleasure. Daveed couldn't look away even if he wanted to!

He caressed the back of your legs with his hands before he had his fingers join his tongue at your core. Slowly, he inserted a finger into your wet heat and was rewarded with a deep moan escaping your lips. Desperate to hear you again, he inserted yet another finger, letting his digits and tongue work in unison until you finally let out another deep moan.

He could tell you were close to letting go completely, and it was all working out so nicely, your chest heaving up and down faster and faster as you moaned loudly for him, your nails finding their way to his scalp, pulling his face closer to you - when clash!

Out of nowhere, a loud shatter was heard from somewhere in the house. It sounded like glass breaking, but Daveed was used to Rafa's clumsy ass, so he ignored what he assumed was his best friend returning home after his night out.

Daveed did, however, feel you freeze slightly underneath him, and you pulled back the moan that had been just about to escape your lips and replaced it with a, "what was that?!" a slight panic to your voice.

"Relax, it's probably just Rafa," Daveed whispered and resumed his movements.

"What's he doing here?" You panted slightly but not as sensually as before.

"He lives here," Daveed growled against your skin, annoyed by the fact that your attention was suddenly directed at his best friend instead of the very pleasurable things he knew he was doing. To make sure that you forgot about Rafa, Daveed brought out the big guns and put his lips around your clit, vibrating them while his fingers worked their way in and out of you. It worked expertly, and it didn't take him long before he'd earned himself another loud moan coming from you. You looked as if you were completely lost in the sensations, he was causing you - but not for long, because suddenly a loud "OH FUCK!" from Rafa rang throughout the house. It was followed by hurried footsteps as Rafa ran to the bathroom that was located next to Daveed's personal space.

Daveed felt you shuffle underneath him as you put your weight on your elbows and closed your legs slightly, craning your neck as you looked towards the wall that Daveed's personal space shared with the bathroom. You had a concerned look in your eyes that Daveed chose to ignore. Instead, he kept going with his fingers and tongue, but you weren't moaning anymore.

"Shit! Oh fuck that hurts!" Rafa exclaimed loudly from the other side of the wall.

"Don't you think you should go check on him?" You asked quietly, your eyes still glued to the wall.

"No," Daveed said curtly, and tried to get you to lie back down again so he could continue. You didn't budge, however. You were more interested in the loud groan that was escaping Rafa. You let out a nervous laugh as you once again heard him cuss and groan from the next room.

"Ignore him," Daveed panted as he spread your legs apart again, his tongue immediately finding your core, and he was rewarded with a gasp from you. He had just started moving his fingers inside you again when he heard Rafa call his name loudly from the other side of the wall.

"DIGGS!"

Daveed froze for about a mili-second before deciding to ignore Rafa and continue moving his fingers inside you instead.

"Go talk to him," you chuckled and raked a hand through his hair, suddenly totally unaffected by his movements,

"He can wait. I'm far too busy," Daveed let his tongue run over you again, once more losing himself in your wonderful wetness.

Rafa however, pulled him back to reality by yelling out his name a second time, "DIGGS!!" causing you to slightly close your legs one more time.

"You're kidding me..." Daveed muttered under his breath as his face was forced away from your wet centre. "WHAT?" he ended up bellowing back to his best friend on the other side of the wall.

"Diggs, I need your help!" Rafa kept calling.

"I'm kind of busy in here, Rafa!" Daveed bellowed while looking into your amused eyes.

You were chuckling slightly, "he needs you. Don't you think you better...?" You sent Daveed a charming grin while nodding towards the door, "he sounds quite drunk..."

Daveed shot you a pained look.

"Go," you chuckled, "I'll still be ready for you in here when you come back. Don't worry."

"Come on man... I'm serious," Rafa bellowed through the wall.

"I'm going to murder him for this!" Daveed groaned in an annoyed tone of voice and got up on his feet with a loud groan. He quickly located a pair of boxers and packed away his erection before storming out of the room, closing the door to his personal space shut behind him.

He found Rafa sitting up against the wall in the bathroom, his eyes swimming with alcohol. "What, bruh?!" Daveed demanded as he locked eyes with him, "what's so important that it couldn't wait until morning?"

"...Were you sleeping?" Rafa slurred while looking like a total fucking idiot as his drunk eyes scanned Daveed from head to toe.

"Of course I wasn't sleeping! I was in the middle of eating pussy when you ruined it!"

Rafa looked as if he was about to throw up, "...you're about to fuck her?" He slurred.

"Yes?! So make whatever you want to say quick, 'cause I got a soaking wet woman waiting for me on my bed!"

Rafa looked up at Daveed with a pained expression but kept his silence.

"I swear to god, if you don't speak up now and tell me what the hell made you call me out here, I'll kick your ass!"

Rafa sighed heavily, looking as if he was about to tell Daveed someone else's secret but eventually croaked, "I hurt myself," while holding up his left hand that was wrapped sloppily in a blood-soaked towel.

First then, did Daveed notice that there were several splodges of blood on the bathroom floor. It made him drop the attitude slightly, "Jesus fuck Rafa, what the hell did you do?" He groaned and crouched down next to him on the floor.

"I knocked down the frame in the hallway," Rafa slurred and let Daveed examine the deep cut in the palm of his hand, "cut myself on the glass."

"You did a thorough job," Daveed mumbled with a sigh as he lifted the towel to check out the gash that was still bleeding heavily, "come here, run some water on it. I'll find some bandages." Daveed turned on the faucet and helped Rafa find his balance as he quickly pulled him to his feet. He could tell that Rafa was struggling to stand still as he swayed back and forth while leaning in over the sink, playing a bit with the jet of water. Daveed sent him an annoyed glance; he did not have time for this! "How much did you have to drink after I left?" he asked, the irritation practically oozing out of him as he looked for the first-aid kit in one of the cabinets.

"I dunno," Rafa mumbled sleepily as he watched the water clean the blood away from his hand, "a lot?"

"Yeah, so I'd guessed," Daveed mumbled to himself as he located the first aid kit and quickly pulled out a couple of rolls of gauze. "Come over here," he urged Rafa to sit down on the edge of the tub next to him.

Rafa gave out a small grunt and turned off the water, before turning towards Daveed with lazy movements. Daveed had to bite his tongue to avoid telling Rafa to hurry the fuck up!

Rafa's ass had barely touched the white ceramic of the tub's edge before he lost his balance and vigorously swayed back and forth a few times, finally catching himself by throwing his hand up against the sink, leaving bloody handprints all over the bathroom in the process.

"Jesus Christ, Rafa!" Daveed groaned, he did not want to deal with Rafa's drunk ass right now, "look, I'll help you with your hand but I'm not cleaning up out here!" He said harshly.

"Then don't!" Rafa muttered as he slowly slid down to the floor with a loud groan, sending Daveed and irritated look in the process.

"Come on; give me your hand," Daveed demanded, determined to be done as fast as possible so he could get back to you.

Rafa held out his arm and Daveed rotated it to look for more injuries and noticed that Rafa had bruised his knuckles quite badly too, "...have you been in a fight?" He furrowed his brows.

"Just fix my hand, okay?!" Rafa shot Daveed an annoyed look, "Make it stop bleeding!" He slurred and gestured to the blood that was already dripping from his fingertips again.

Daveed gave out an irritated grunt as he started wrapping Rafa's bloody hand in gauze, "sit still!!"

"Oh fuck," Rafa groaned as Daveed slowly draped the gauze over the sensitive wound, "fuck it hurts."

"Quit your whining!"

There was a knock on the bathroom door and Daveed slowly looked up from Rafa's bloody hand and towards the door instead. You were poking in your head, looking curiously at what the two men were doing, your hair a big mess. "Is everything alright in here?" You asked carefully as you stepped inside, tugging on the oversized shirt you'd put on to cover up your naked body.

"Rafa cut himself - and apparently he's too drunk to handle it alone," Daveed rolled his eyes so Rafa couldn't see. He registered your amused smile just before he turned back to the hand in his lap, immediately noticing the small change in Rafa's flexibility as opposed to before you had stepped in. His fingers had somehow gone weirdly stiff, and by further inspection, Daveed realised that Rafa's entire body was suddenly tense, the muscles in his jaw continuously flexing and relaxing, flexing and relaxing. Still, Rafa didn't bat an eyelid, he didn't even emit a single sound. He was just silently staring at you, his eyes going up and down your front, his breathing hard and heavy. Daveed shot him a weird look out the corner of his eye. What the fuck was going on with him? He had definitely had too much to drink...

"'s that my shirt?" Rafa slurred to you as he took in your attire.

Daveed briefly looked up at you and realised that the oversized t-shirt you were wearing were indeed Rafa's favourite Raiders shirt that Daveed had borrowed the other day. Rafa had a weird look on his face, and it looked as if he was about the say something crude to you, so to diffuse the situation, Daveed spoke: "let it go, bruh," he said in an uninterested tone of voice before he quietly turned back to wrapping the bleeding hand. Why the fuck would Rafa care if you were wearing his t-shirt or not?? He didn't mind Daveed wearing it.

"Oh..." he heard you say softly from the doorframe, "Raiders... I'm sorry. I didn't realise."

"Yeah, no. Don't be," Rafa said softly and Daveed was just about to give his best friend a mental pad on the back for having enough sense to bring his attitude around so quickly, but then he added an "- it looks good on you!" in a flirty voice that vexed Daveed so much that he felt a slow anger bubble in his chest. He let go of the bleeding hand and straightened his back as he looked over at Rafa with a hard look. He could not believe that Rafa had the nerve - the audacity! - to act so disrespectfully! What the fuck had gotten into him?! He had been a huge cock-block to you and Daveed and now he found it suitable to be flirting with you???

Daveed had to take a deep breath to calm himself down, in the meantime reminding himself that Rafa was drunk as fuck and probably not even aware that his words could be misinterpreted as more than just friendly... Therefore, he purposely ignored his best friend's impudent behaviour and instead made sure to keep his eyes down low so he could concentrate fully on wrapping up the bleeding hand, determined get the fuck out of there as fast as possible so he could get back to slipping you his famous techniques.

The wound in the palm of Rafa's hand was still bleeding quite heavily, and it didn't take Daveed long to realise that he needed more gauze to make the blood stop dripping onto the floor. "Shit," he muttered under his breath and looked over at you, "baby, can you get me more gauze out of the cabinet?"

You whipped your gaze away from Rafa's face, your eyes immediately finding Daveed's. The look in your eyes instantly shifted from something that Daveed couldn't quite place to soft and cute, a small goofy smile slowly erupting on your lips as you scanned his face. You didn't say anything, just sent him a curt nod before you quietly turned to the cabinet, looking for the first-aid kit on the bottom shelf. As you bent over in front of him, your t-shirt rode up high and Daveed got a beautiful glimpse of the red laces under the hem of the t-shirt you were wearing. Your panties were hugging your ass nicely, and for a moment, he forgot about the bleeding limb in his hand - all he could think about was touching you again! He wanted to snap the useless piece of fabric between your legs in two and delve his tongue into your wet heat, bringing you untold pleasu- ...he suddenly felt Rafa's fingers do a small involuntary twitch in his lap and he realised that his best friend was checking you out too, his mouth hanging slightly open, his eyes glued to your ass.

What the fuck was the matter with him? Had the roles been reversed, Daveed would never have checked out Rafa's girl!

Angry with his best friend, Daveed gave Rafa's arm a small smack while sending him a threatening look, daring him to keep staring at your ass. When his and Rafa's eyes interlocked, Rafa's face curled up in a sour expression but he quickly fixated his gaze on the floor in front of him instead, probably realising that Daveed could knock him out easily.

Meanwhile, completely innocent and oblivious to what had just happened behind your back, you stood up straight and handed Daveed two extra rolls of gauze before resuming your position in the doorway.

Apparently, Rafa had learnt absolutely nothing from Daveed's silent threats and immediately went back to staring at you again. Daveed contemplated shooting Rafa a verbal threat as well but decided against it when he realised how absolutely pathetic his best friend looked. He was drunk as fuck, his eyes all foggy and glossy. Daveed would confront him about his disrespectful behaviour tomorrow.

Still, the fact that Rafa was staring intensely at you while you were only wearing the slightly oversized t-shirt and your beautiful, beautiful panties underneath, made Daveed uncomfortable as fuck, so he worked double speed on Rafa's hand to get you away from the bathroom faster. Luckily, with the fresh supply of gauze from you, it only took him a few more minutes before he was done with the wrapping, a sigh of relief travelling through his body as he finally let go of Rafa's injured hand.

The tension in the bathroom could be cut with a knife and Daveed took a deep breath to calm himself down before breaking the silence by saying, "Look, I can bandage this to keep it from bleeding all over, but you need to go to the hospital for stitches or something."

"Mmh," Rafa grunted beside him, clearly not pleased with the situation. His eyes were glued to you, and he was wearing a certain hungry look on his face as he drank you in - and Daveed realised that Rafa definitely was aware of what signals he was sending.

What the hell was going on inside his pea-sized, idiot brain? Did he want Daveed to punch him? Daveed was just about to grab him by the collar when he heard you piping from the doorframe, "...I can take you."

...what? Daveed immediately turned his attention to you and saw the soft look you were sending Rafa as you continued, "I can drive. I almost didn't drink tonight."

What?! You liked Rafas stares?!

"You'd - you'd do that?" he heard Rafa whisper from beside him, a soft smile erupting on his best friend's lips.

Daveed didn't like it. He thought to himself that it looked as if the two of you had developed a secret language in the time it had taken him to wrap Rafa's hand. What the hell had he missed out on?

"Of course," you nodded slowly, your eyes still interlocking with Rafa's, "Let me just grab some pants, okay?"

"Yeah, okay," Rafa whispered, a hopeful look on his face, "thanks."

What the fuck was going on between you two?

Daveed watched you send Rafa a small smile, your face flushed. The sexual tension was thick between the two of you, and Daveed felt the jealousy burn in his chest as neither of you were looking away from the other. How the fuck dare Rafa flirt with the girl that he had brought home?! How dare he send you those hungry looks?! It was itching in Daveed's hands to do something about the long, continuous gaze between you and in his frustration, he curled his fingers and accidentally pressed on Rafa's wound, making him hiss in pain as he shot back an angry look. Daveed was far too busy looking over at you, however. You finally had your attention directed at him - and not Rafa - your eyes huge and doe-like, looking as if you'd just woken up from a trance. He shot you a look as if to say 'what the fuck is going on?' and you gulped guiltily.

Suddenly realising that he finally had the full attention of both you and Rafa, Daveed spoke up in a voice that was much more strained than he had intended, "Nope! Not gonna happen! Uh-uh, absolutely no fucking way," he shot his best friend a hard look, "Rafa you can take a cab!" he turned his attention back to you, "Baby go back to bed, I'll be there in a second!"

He noticed your eyes skating between his own face and Rafa's and he sternly let out a "he'll take the cab, okay!" He didn't like the way you were looking at each other, and he still very much intended on fucking you tonight no matter how big of a cock-block Rafa was being!

He was trying to catch your eye, but you had your gaze firmly placed on Rafa again, seemingly unable to look away. Daveed noticed how you let out a small gulp as Rafa shot you a careful nod as if giving you permission to leave.

What the hell was going on????

He also noticed the long glance the two of you shared before you gently closed the door behind you as you exited the bathroom.

What! The! Fuck!

Daveed felt his chest bubbling over. He had never felt this way towards Rafa before, but his best friend had never looked more punchable! Automatically, his fingers once more pressed in hard on Rafa's wound.

"Ah! Dude what the fuck!" Rafa yelped loudly.

"What the fuck was that all about?" Daveed spat, "you're flirting with my girl!"

"She's not your girl just because you brought her home for one night, Diggs!" Rafa hissed angrily through gritted teeth.

"What the hell are you talking about?!" Daveed felt as if his eyes were bulging out of his skull, "She's crazy about me! You should've seen the way she was begging for it at the bar!"

"Yeah, I saw everything," Rafa said slowly with anger in his eyes, a low growl to his voice as he drunkenly staggered to his feet, "I saw exactly how you swooped in and thought you could erase eight years of history between me and her!"

"What the fuck are you talking about?" Daveed hissed before his voice turned to frustrated yelling, "Rafa, you have no history with her!" he too stood up, so they were eye to eye, "you made out with her once eight years ago and now no one else is allowed to touch her?! If you wanted a shot with her, you should have done something ages ago!"

"I did do something ages ago! I kissed her!"

"Yeah! And then you had eight years of nothing! You didn't even talk to her! How the fuck was I supposed to know that you wanted to kiss her again???"

"You could have asked me!" Rafa yelled frustratedly.

"I could have asked you?! Come on, man!! You're thirty-three years old for fucks sake! If you wanted something to happen with her, you should've engaged yourself!"

"I was planning on doing so tonight!" Rafa hissed angrily, "and she would've said yes if it hadn't been for you!"

"No she wouldn't!" Daveed was minutes away from pulling out his own hair. How could Rafa be so thick?! "Don't you think that something would've happened by now if you both wanted it so badly?"

"Did you not see how she was eye-fucking me just now?" Rafa yelled angrily, sending Daveed a hard look.

Daveed let out a low growl, "yeah, meanwhile I was minutes away from actually fucking her! If she really wanted you, don't you think she would've given you more signals than a few pitiful looks because you're drunk and hurt? She doesn't want you, man!!"

"Fuck you!!!" Rafa spat angrily and shoved Daveed in the chest causing him to stagger backwards as he was pushed out of balance.

"What the fuck's the matter with you!" Daveed spat as he took a step closer to Rafa, balling up his fists and sending him a threatening look, "you really want me to beat you up?"

"Do whatever the fuck you want with me as long as you stay away from her!" Rafa yelled and gave Daveed another hard shove in the chest. His eyes were bloodshot and Daveed had never seen him this angry before.

"What the fuck's gone into you?" He yelled louder than before, "she clearly doesn't want you! Why can't you just let her go?!"

"Because I'm in love with her!" Rafa yelled loudly, spit flying everywhere. His eyes were huge and aggressive.

Daveed took a step backwards and stared at his panting best friend as his angry words sank in. Rafa's nostrils were flared, and it looked as if he was about to punch Daveed in the face.

...Rafa was in love with you? Daveed could punch himself! Why hadn't he seen it before? Of course Rafa was in love with you... He took a deep breath to calm himself down before he quietly spoke: "Yes - well I'm crazy about her too..."

Rafa was still panting heavily, his nostrils still flared as he shot Daveed a hard look - but he didn't say anything.

They had feelings for the same girl... Daveed frustratedly pinched the bridge of his nose as the realisation sank in; a girl had come between them. How high school... "Shit," he said quietly, "what do we do now?"

Rafa shot him a dark look and answered immediately: "you back down!" he said harshly but not as aggressively as before.

"I'm not going to back down, Rafa," Daveed answered him quietly. He full-on intended on making you his no matter what Rafa's feelings were.

"I've been in love with her for eight years!" Rafa spat angrily but he had stopped yelling, "You have for eight minutes! Don't you think it's more fair that you let me have a shot?!"

Daveed was getting more and more frustrated by the second but was happy that Rafa had chosen to use those exact words: "Exactly Rafa! You had eight years! You sat on your hands for eight years and you expect her to come running to you now? You expect me to let you have a shot? You've had millions of opportunities to do something!"

Rafa's face was still wild but his tone of voice was quiet and determined: "you saw the look she just sent me!" he said darkly.

Daveed had to give it to him; the way you'd been staring at Rafa had confused him too: "Listen, I don't know what the fuck that was, but if she had any feelings for you at all, why would she go home with me?" He said quietly, "why would she take off her clothes for me and not you?"

Rafa shook his head back and forth as if refusing to believe the argument, "No..." he croaked, "please don't say it like that, man..."

"Bruh..." Daveed sighed, "I'm sorry it is this way, but I don't know what else to tell you." He felt bad for Rafa but he wasn't going to back down. No chance.

"Please don't fuck her," Rafa pleaded quietly. His heart obviously broken.

"You know I'm not going to guarantee you that..."

"Just... Let me talk to her first."

"What do you expect to gain from that?"

"She wants to talk to me too..."

"Maybe - but it won't go your way. She's lying naked in my bed right now! She made her decision, bruh."

Rafa looked pained. He was clutching his chest with his eyes screwed shut, a small tear rolling down his cheek, "fuck!" he quietly worded before he fell to his knees in front of the toilet and threw up.

You

"I'm going to murder him for this!" Daveed pulled himself away from you and on to his feet, desperately looking around the room for something to wear. He finally pulled out a pair of clean boxers from his closet, pulled them on, and hurried out of the bedroom to see what was going on with Rafa. He had sounded very drunk and even though you had been slightly amused by his constant swearing throughout the house, the sound of glass smashing combined with his drunk cries for help, had also left you a bit nervous that something serious might've happened to him. What if he had cut himself badly and Daveed couldn't handle it alone? Rafa was your friend too after all. You had to make sure everything was all right with him.

Quickly, you jumped from Daveed's bed, pulled on your panties, and looked around the room for something to wear that could cover your body as your own dress had been discarded during the make-out session in the hallway. You quickly located a black t-shirt that was casually thrown over a chair in the corner of the room and pulled it over your head, grateful that it covered you all the way down to the top of your thighs. Ready to leave Daveed's bedroom, and with your hand already on the doorknob, you took a brief look at yourself in the mirror to make sure you were decent. You tried padding down your messy sex-hair but the sound of Rafa hissing in pain from the other room had you abandon any thought of trying to fix your looks - Rafa's injuries seemed much more urgent. Forcing your eyes away from your own reflection, you opened the door to the hallway instead and listened for their voices.

"Just fix my hand, okay?! Make it stop bleeding!" you heard Rafa slur from the room next door. He was clearly very drunk.

"Sit still!!" Daveed growled.

It sounded as if they had the situation under control and you were just about to go back to Daveed's bed and wait for him there when you heard Rafa exclaim, "Oh fuck! Fuck it hurts!"

It made you do a U-turn on your heel and you decided to check in on the two men to see if they were in need of any extra help. Softly, you knocked on the door but didn't listen for an answer as you immediately poked in your head and took in the scene in the small bathroom: the two men were sitting next to each other; Daveed on the edge of the bathtub with Rafa's bloody hand in his lap while Rafa was splayed on the floor looking very drunk. Both of them were looking directly up at you with equally soft expressions on their faces. Daveed's eyes were loving as he silently apologised for having to help his best friend clean up. Rafa, on the other hand, was staring up at you with a sorrowful look on his pale face, his eyes huge and red-rimmed, his Adam's apple bouncing up and down in his throat as he gulped hard.

The tension between them was thick, the air cold. Both of them clearly equally annoyed with the other.

"Is everything alright in here?" You asked quietly as you pushed open the door and stepped inside, tugging on your t-shirt to prevent it from riding up.

"Rafa cut himself..." Daveed rolled his eyes so only you could see before he continued, "- and apparently he's too drunk to handle it alone," he shot Rafa an annoyed sideway-glance before he turned his attention to the gauze and Rafa's blood-covered hand in his lap.

You watched Rafa send Daveed an equally irritated glance, looking as if he was biting his tongue to keep himself from retorting something nasty. He had probably already realised that he needed Daveed's help to get the wound to stop bleeding and that he wouldn't get it by being crass. So instead, Rafa silently let Daveed wrap his hand as his eyes slowly found yours, his expression immediately changing from annoyed to soft.

You sent him a small reassuring smile and a goofy expression emerged on his drunk face when he happily reciprocated it. You let out a small laugh at his expression and he blinked a few times, looking as if he was saving the sound on his mental hard drive. His foggy eyes were softly gazing up at you with a soulful look, and he looked drunk but cute as he took you in, a weird undertone in his gaze that you couldn't quite place. It was a look that you recognised from somewhere, but not from him - from someone else. You scanned his face one more time, raking your brain to find out from where you knew the gaze, he was sending you, but it wasn't immediately clear. Suddenly however, you realised that it was the same look that Daveed had sent you several times over the last couple of weeks. It was a look of longing.

Softly, you cocked your head at him, and he sent you a small, sad smile in return, his green eyes kindly taking in your face before they travelled down your body, ultimately landing on your chest. You immediately folded your arms, and he looked back up into your eyes, your eyebrows now arched in an unimpressed manner, silently tell him that he'd been caught staring red-handed. His face screwed up in a painful expression and he paled a bit before he quietly slurred, "'s that my shirt?".

Unaware of what he was talking about, you looked towards the mirror above the sink on the opposite side of the bathroom wall, and when you caught your own reflection, you realised that he hadn't been staring at your chest. He'd been staring at the logo on the t-shirt. The Raiders logo - his football team. You weren't wearing Daveed's shirt. You were wearing Rafa's.

You'd seen him in it multiple times - hell, he'd even worn it the night you'd kissed on top of the skate ramps. You remembered because every so often your mind wandered back to that night. Played it on repeat. Rafa's hand on your thigh as Stevie Nicks' voice rang in the background. Your tongues intertwining. The stubble on his chin soft between your fingertips. The scent of his warm cologne. The thought of your passionate kiss that summer night eight years ago was enough to make a warm feeling appear in your stomach.

Still looking at yourself in the mirror, you let your arms drop to the side and took in your own reflection. The t-shirt was a few sizes too big for you and it covered you like a short dress, just barely reaching below the red panties you were wearing underneath. The Raiders logo took up most of the front of the shirt and the logo curved nicely along your breasts and waistline, making the oversized men's shirt actually look as if it'd been tailored to you. You liked this look. You actually looked good in Rafa's t-shirt.

From far away you heard Daveed's voice, "let it go, bruh," and it pulled you back to reality.

"Oh... Raiders..." you said quietly, unable to pry your eyes away from the way the t-shirt was hugging your curves. No wonder Rafa was staring at you. You had gone home with his roomie, yet you'd put on his shirt - and you even looked good in it. "I'm sorry. I didn't realise," you croaked.

Rafa was looking as if he was thinking about the same thing as you, and for a second you were afraid that he might get angry about the fact that Daveed's flirt was wearing his beloved Raiders t-shirt, but he just softly said, "yeah, no. Don't be. It looks good on you..."

You didn't react to his words but merely stared at yourself in the mirror as the memories of your Tacos Locos summer once more flooded your mind - and you slowly felt a dull ache in your chest when you looked back at Rafa's pained expression and realised that maybe there was a reason for his look of longing, his quiet, pained reaction to seeing you half-naked in his shirt when you'd gone home with his best friend. He probably wasn't as cool with you and Daveed as Daveed had let on. Maybe your suspicion about why Rafa had invited you to join his production was right after all...

Oh no.

The thought of kissing Rafa again had grazed your mind several times in the period of time between his phone call offering you the job, and your first day on set where you'd been introduced to his best friend for the first time. Daveed, however, had immediately pushed every sensual thought of Rafa out of your head and had instead replaced them with unholy thoughts about himself. The sexual attraction that you had felt towards Daveed for the past month was insane and you were definitely crazy about him! ...Still, you wondered if he was the type of man, you'd still fantasise about eight years after having shared a passionate kiss in the dark. The same way you so often had found yourself fantasising about Rafa.

...had you just made a huge mistake?

Rafa's cheeks paled considerably as his gaze constantly shifted between your face and the Raiders logo. He was clearly affected by the fact that you were wearing his shirt and nothing else, and it looked as if he was having a hard time sitting still. The tender yet hurtful look he sent you made you feel horrible about yourself and all the decisions that had led to this exact moment. What if things had been different back in the taco truck eight years ago? What if he had actually taken you home after one of your late nights out? And what if Daveed hadn't been so persistent in hooking up with you over the last couple of weeks? If he hadn't been so smooth and charming, would he still have been able to swoop in right before Rafa? Or would you eventually have gone home with Rafa instead?

Would it feel more right to be sleeping in Rafa's bed tonight?

Oh no...

"Shit!" Daveed's voice brought you back from your panicky train of thought. You looked over at him, his face sweet and innocent as he was helping his best friend recover, and you realised: no, it wouldn't feel more right to be sleeping in Rafa's bed tonight. But it would feel just as right as sleeping in Daveed's.

"Baby, can you get me more gauze out of the cabinet?" he continued.

Baby. It had slipped out of him. He hadn't even realised it... The caring, handsome man in front of you had called you baby and you couldn't help but send him a small smile as it had made you soft. You were baby to him.

Rafa had a reaction to the pet name too: he looked as if he was about to murder Daveed.

Desperately trying to untangle yourself from the situation you had put yourself in, you turned over to the cabinets and pulled out more gauze, promptly handing it over to Daveed before resuming your position in the doorframe.

Immediately, you and Rafa went back to staring at each other again, both unable to look away. The looks he was sending you were deep and longing, his eyes pained as he grew more and more tense with each passing second. He looked as if he wanted to touch you, to kiss you, to hold you tight. Shit.

Your eyes were flickering fast between the two men: both of them sweet and handsome. Both of them crazy about you. You couldn't decide whether or not you had made a mistake by choosing to go home with Daveed tonight.

Daveed broke the tension in the small bathroom when he in an irritated tone of voice said, "Look, I can bandage this to keep it from bleeding all over, but you need to go to the hospital for stitches or something."

Rafa let out a small grunt without looking away from you. It looked as if he wanted to tell you something but was unable to with Daveed being present. It was heart-breaking.

You liked Daveed very much but realised that you had to talk to Rafa as well. You had to hear what he had to say, "...I can take you," you piped up in a voice that was weirdly nervous, "I can drive. I almost didn't drink tonight."

"You'd - you'd do that?" Rafa said in a whisper and sent you a warm look.

"Of course," you nodded slowly, suddenly desperate to talk to him, to hear his thoughts, "Let me just grab some pants, okay?"

"Yeah, okay. Thanks," Rafa said quietly, his pained expression now completely replaced by a hopeful one.

Daveed had definitely noticed that something was going on with you because the annoyance was practically seeping out of him though he was trying his best to keep calm. He did something to Rafa's hand that had Rafa hissing in pain and shooting Daveed an angry look with his lips pressed together in a thin, white line.

Your eyes whipped over to Daveed as well. He was sending you a hurt look that said 'what the fuck are you doing?' and you gulped guiltily. Had he realised that you were unsure about what to do with the two men in front of you?

"Nope!" Daveed said loudly, shaking his head vigorously, "Not gonna happen. Uh-uh, absolutely no fucking way. Rafa you can take a cab!" he shot Rafa a hard look before he turned back to you, his eyes soft, but his voice full of irritation, "Baby, go back to bed, I'll be there in a second!"

There it was again. Baby. You looked into Daveed's soft brown eyes that were looking pleadingly back at you, your knees immediately weak. Slowly, you let your gaze wander a bit to the left and met Rafa's huge green eyes too. They also made you feel incredibly soft.

Daveed noticed your gaze drifting over to Rafa and harshly interjected, "he'll take a cab, okay!"

Rafa sent you a slight nod as if to say that it was alright for you to leave, and that he could handle Daveed and his bleeding hand on his own. Meanwhile Daveed was staring at his best friend with a murderous look in his eyes. You realised that they had to resolve some stuff too, so even though it hurt in your chest, you slowly turned away from the two men, and walked back to Daveed's bedroom. Just before the door to the bathroom closed behind you, you heard the beginning of an argument between the two friends: "Ah! Dude what the fuck!" Rafa yelped loudly.

To which Daveed angrily responded with a "What the fuck was that all about? You're flirting with my girl!" It was more a statement than a question.

You sat awkwardly on Daveed's bed, unsure of what to do now. Daveed had noticed the long looks between you and Rafa. Shit. Even though you hadn't intended it, you had still managed to turn them against each other.

You could hear their angry voices from the other side of the wall, but you didn't want to listen in on their private conversation, so you put your fingers in your ears. Their shouted words were not meant for you. It was a desperate conversation between two best friends, and even though you could've easily followed their screaming match, it didn't seem right to do so. Desperately, you pressed in on your ear canal and started humming softly to tune out most of their angry words. Still, snippets of their loud conversation penetrated your ears.

"Rafa, you have no history with her!" Daveed was yelling before Rafa's voice was heard a few seconds later: "Did you not see how she was eye-fucking me just now?" followed a little while later by a loud "Fuck you!" from Rafa and an angry "you really want me to beat you up?" from Daveed. They kept yelling loudly at each other, but you tried not to decipher their angry words as you found them private. There was a reason why they had sent you out of the bathroom after all.

After a few minutes, their angry yells finally died down completely and were instead replaced by muffled words in normal voices that you couldn't make out even if you tried. You slowly removed your fingers from your ears, instead burying your face in your hands, angry with yourself for having let it come to this.

Their muffled voices could be heard for a few seconds before the sound was disrupted by someone retching.

One of them was throwing up, the other completely silent. You listened intently for a few seconds to see if you could make out who was throwing up, hoping that the other would say some words of comfort, but neither of them spoke, and after about a minute of silence, you heard footsteps approaching the room you were lying in. The doorknob twisted and Daveed entered the room slowly, his eyes full of pain as he took you in. He sat down on the bed next to you, panting hard, obviously very upset about the entire situation. It hurt seeing him like this. And it hurt thinking about Rafa lying alone in the bathroom. You dried an annoying tear away from your cheek and just barely managed to reset your face before Daveed looked up at you with a sad smile. You did your best to look casual as if you hadn't got the faintest idea of what their screaming match had been about. You acted as if wearing Rafa's shirt meant nothing. Seeing his pained expression had done nothing. Hearing him sob in the bathroom made you feel no ways.

"Everything okay?" You asked Daveed carefully.

"Yeah," he grunted.

"How about Rafa?" you said quietly. Even the sound of his name hurt in your chest.

"He's..." Daveed's words died in his throat as he frustratedly buried his face in his hands with a deep sigh.

You gulped, "is he okay alone out there?"

"Can we please not talk about Rafa right now?" he said slowly.

"Yeah..." you nodded quietly, "come here," you folded your arms around his chest, hugging him tight. He pulled you on top of him and hugged you back, his strong arms squeezing you, bringing you comfort as if he knew what you were going through as well. You sat like this for a few seconds, your arms wrapped tightly around each other comforting the broken feeling you both felt in your chests until his lips slowly found their way to your neck, leaving sweet, sensual kisses to the side of your throat.

"Look," you said quietly, pulling yourself away from him and looking into his chocolate brown eyes, "it's not that I don't enjoy this, but I just think it's for the best if I go home."

"What? No?" Daveed looked up at you with a pained expression, "come on, we can't let Rafa ruin our night," he groaned and moved closer to you but suddenly paused, "unless you don't want to of course. I don't want to force you into anything," he looked carefully at you and you understood why. He wanted to make sure that you were comfortable with the decision you were making. Comfortable with him.

It made you realise that the fact that you were lying in Daveed's bedroom half-naked, meant that you had made your choice long ago. You needed to stick with it.

"Yeah, okay," you said and moved your lips close to his, kissing him softly.

"You have no idea how happy that makes me," he groaned against your lips and you felt him breathe a sigh of relief as if a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. He quickly pulled Rafa's t-shirt over your head, and harshly threw it onto the ground next to the bed. You couldn't help but think of the symbolics in his heated gesture.

His warm hands immediately found your breasts and he started running his fingers over your nipples with a low growl. You enjoyed the confident, hungry look he sent you as you were once again bare-chested in front of him. He moved his face closer to yours, "I still fully intent on making you feel good and make you let loose a little," he repeated his words from earlier that evening with a smile and carefully pushed you down on the bed, a warm shiver travelling up your spine with his words and movements. He hovered above you before his lips started pressing small, peppered kisses to the side of your throat, his one hand running down your stomach and dipping down between your legs, making you gasp softly. His lips moved over your collarbone and down between the valley of your breasts, taking one of your nipples in his mouth, and making you arch your back against him, as you felt his erection pressed up between your legs. He groaned as he pushed his boxer-clad erection closer to you, looking down at you with an erotic spark in his eye. Your fingers found his soft hair and you raked a hand through his curls and reciprocated the look he was sending you; dark and sensual.

You were both getting lost in the sensations you were causing each other when you were interrupted by the sound of Rafa retching and his heart-breaking sobs from the next room. It made your stomach ache horribly and you interrupted the kiss with Daveed, looking towards the wall to the bathroom instead. "I'm sorry, I can't just leave him alone with that..."

"What? You're not serious?" He looked at you with a disappointed look on his face.

"Listen to him," you said softly, as Rafa let out another heartbroken sob.

"He'll be fine," Daveed responded harshly before he resumed kissing your throat.

You pulled your face away from him, raking a hand through his hair one more time, "he's your best friend. Do you really want him to be alone right now? He sounds so heartbroken."

"Trust me - you do not want to deal with him right now."

Rafa retched loudly.

"I'm sorry," you kissed Daveed briefly, "but I have to make sure he's okay. I'll be back in a second."

Daveed let out an irritated grunt but eventually let go of you so you could crawl down from his lap. You quickly found the Raiders t-shirt on the floor and pulled it over your head, exiting the bedroom in a swift motion.

You knocked quietly on the door to the bathroom and found Rafa lying on the floor next to the toilet sobbing quietly. "Rafa, honey, are you okay?" you said softly as you sat down next to him and carefully put your hand on his chest.

He took a deep breath and looked up at you with wet eyes. The gaze he sent you was bloodshot, but he wasn't as pale as before. Throwing up some of the alcohol had definitely done him some good. "Hey," he whispered in a raspy voice as he put his good hand on top of yours, closing his eyes again taking three deep breaths. You noticed that he didn't answer your question.

As you pulled your hand away from his chest to fix him a glass of water, he groaned at the lack of touch and sat up straight, sleepily resting his head on the edge of the tub, looking at you with tired, sad eyes.

"Are you done throwing up?" you asked him as you handed him the glass.

He took a big gulp and nodded "I think so... Listen, can we talk?"

You sent him a small smile, "tomorrow, okay?" you didn't want to cause him anymore heartbreak tonight, "let's get you to bed," you held out your hand.

"Yeah, okay..." he took your hand and let you pull him to his feet. He was still very drunk, so you had to help him with his balance, your arm tightly wrapped around his waist, "come here," you chuckled and walked him to his room with his arm draped over your shoulder. As soon as you entered his personal space, he threw himself down on the bed with a loud groan.

"You're not going to disrobe?" you chuckled at him.

"Yeah, no... I don't care right now," he said and closed his eyes, "I just want to sleep... Let this absolute shit night be over."

You guiltily shook your head and forcefully pulled off his Chelsea boots and socks.

"Are you trying to get me naked?" He joked sleepily from the bed; his eyes closed.

"I'm trying to get you comfortable," you chuckled, "you have to take off your shirt and pants yourself."

Rafa groaned but sat up straight before he pulled his shirt over his head. His eyes were still closed, and his long hair was falling in unruly strands around his face. He looked exhausted as he undid the button on his pants and slid them off himself, plumping down on the bed afterwards.

"You don't think I'll bleed to death, do you?" he groaned and lifted his bandaged hand a little.

"I'm absolutely positive you won't," you chuckled at him, "if it's still bleeding tomorrow, I'll take you to the hospital, okay?"

"Okay, can't wait," he smiled sleepily and gave out a quiet snore as if he'd briefly fallen asleep. He was lying flat on his back which gave you time to study the tattoos he had on his chest and forearms. Some of them you didn't like, others were beautiful. He had one on his pec that you'd never seen before.

"If I love you, I have to make you conscious of the things you don't see," you read out loud, looking at his chest.

Even though Rafa had his eyes closed and looked as if he was just about to fall asleep again, he knew what you were talking about and softly tapped the tattoo he had on his pec, "that's right," he slurred with a small smile. For the first time since he'd cut himself, he looked as if he was peaceful, and you tugged one of his long strands of blonde hair away from his eyes and behind his ear instead. Your fingers lingered on his cheek for a second and he kissed your palm with a small hum, "that means that I have to make you conscious of the things you don't see," he whispered before he drifted off completely.

"Alright Rafa," you chuckled quietly as you ran your fingers through his soft hair. He had started breathing heavily, already fast asleep, "thanks for explaining the words of your tattoo with the exact same words!" You got up from the bed and quietly closed the door behind you as you walked out into the hallway.

You'd only walked a few steps towards Daveed's room when the meaning behind Rafa's sentence hit you and you froze in place. Inside your head, the written words of the tattoo and Rafa's whispered words played on repeat. He hadn't explained the tattoo to you. He had told you that he loved you.

He loved you. Rafa was in love with you.

And you were walking towards the bedroom of his best friend. You turned your head slightly, looking towards Rafa's room. Should you go back to him? Or continue to Daveed? You were completely frozen in time, desperately looking between the two bedroom doors on either side of the bathroom in the hallway, realising that even though you might have been lying naked in Daveed's arms only minutes before, Rafa's words hurt so much in your chest that your decision-making was far from over.

Rafa's room was to the left. He had just confessed his feelings for you. Or, he didn't just have feelings for you; he was in love with you. Probably had been since your summer together in the taco truck. You wouldn't say that you were in love with him, but there was definitely raw, heated attraction towards him on your part as well, or you wouldn't still be thinking about your drunk kiss in the dark eight years ago, the way he was always able to make you laugh, his soft, green eyes. It hurt in your chest to think about how you'd potentially wasted eight years without him by your side. If you went to him, you'd either finally be able to stop thinking of him as 'the one who got away' and actually engage in something romantic with him - or you'd see that eight years of absence might have grown the heart so fond that you had put him on a pedestal that he couldn't live up to.

Daveed's room was to the right. He was waiting for you in there, probably ready to fuck you so good that you wouldn't be able to remember your own name. The preview he'd given you earlier tonight had definitely shown you that he was able to bring all your sexual fantasies to life! And you had craved his touch for so long, to feel his strong hands on your body as he slid into you while whispering sweet words in your ear. You and him definitely had some insane potential - not to mention the fact that he was already calling you baby! He was so crazy about you that you were baby to him! - but did you feel the same emotional attraction to him? Or was the warm feeling in your stomach whenever you looked at him all due to sexual attraction? Could you and he ever become more than raw passion?

No matter what, you'd have to choose between them. You couldn't have both. With whomever you chose, you'd never be able to have the other.

Carefully, you weighed both your options; left or right? Rafa or Daveed?

You started at both of their doors, unsure about where to go, but eventually made a decision. With a deep breath, you stepped closer to the wooden door, grabbed door handle and stepped inside, softly closing the door behind you as you took in the handsome man on the bed.

Tagging: @exrthangel @theatrenerd86 @lonelydance @ohsoverykeri @summerofsnowflakes @ramp-it-up @alexander-hamilhoe @honeysucklechocolatedrippin @riiyy @mysearchforgratification @janthony-stan @sillyteecup @biafbunny @einfachniemand @cashskid @namelesslosers @simpinforu @diggsbeatriz (Imma keep tagging you unless you say something lol).

....No spoilers in the comments please :-)

#rafael casal x reader #rafael casal #daveed diggs #blindspotting #battle of the bay boys #rafael casal imagine #rafael casal fanfiction #bay boys #they gon fight #sorry rafa #sorry diggs #sorry reader

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mirrorforevers · 3 years

Text

heavenly nobodies (or “the fog”) • graham/reader

this is a bit heavier than usual, ladies. proceed w caution. tw for mentions of abusive relationships, drug abuse and reader has no self-esteem at all. nothing too descriptive in that sense though

on a lighter note, reader n graham are basically two lost adults acting like petty children

a quick disclaimer: its not my intention in *any way* to glorify or romanticize drug abuse or basically anything any of these characters do - its messed up shit. this is fiction, don't take it seriously, please

if this fic was a song, even though its titled after a lush song, it would be lark by angel olsen i guess. might have a sequel someday i dunno

+18, as always. contains smut. this is sososososo long and has went through so many rewrites im sorry. but i do think its my best fic yet!

set in the mid 90s

word count: 3.780

You still remember the day it began.

A nasty fight took place between Graham and Alex. You only got involved because your relationship became one of the topics of the heated debate. Long story short, Graham basically screamed at you two that you, Y/N, were wasting your life away by dating someone like James.

At first you were blind with rage and defended your decadent relationship while insulting Coxon until your throat burned from the screaming match, but afterwards, after you caught yourself thinking a little too long about how James' eyes sometimes seemed to hover over you with an indifference Coxon's never, ever showed, and how it hurt to see Alex in the arms of an entire sea of more attractive women than you - and how shallow you've become for even trying to excuse his behavior with something as empty as the fact you weren't as stereotypically beautiful as the other girls he screwed, you noticed something wasn't quite right about the entire situation, but you still felt shivers at the prospect of telling him you were sorry. He also had a lot to apologize for.

The fog. That's what's been messing with your mind lately. And Graham's. And everyone else's.

It's hard to think about things clearly as they happen in your life when all you feel during most of it is hedonistic, empty bliss. Everything moves in slow motion. The regret, the harsh words, always come afterwards, like a sudden car crash, after people realize the very real consequences of what they said and done while they were immersed in their own very temporary, elusive, pleasures. The fog also made you bitter - not only you, but Graham, Alex and the other boys as well; your relationship with them as a group of friends and individually, each in a different way, consequently turned into a toxic, resentful mess of chaotic feelings and unresolved conflicts. Your relationship with Graham was by far the most affected.

You grew up together. You went to the same college. You very briefly had a thing. He drew you lots and lots of times, you haven't lost a drawing. You realized you didn't love him like *that* and he was okay with it. You were still as close as ever.

Then you met his other friends. In the beginning, he was so excited about this whole "band" thing. The boys were funny, compelling, undoubtedly hard to deal with sometimes, but you got them quickly. Their music very gradually became successful - they deserved it. They sounded so good together. You noticed Graham was a bit jealous of how you interacted with the other boys sometimes. Damon and Dave were the first ones who tried (hard) to bed you, but Alex, effortlessly, was the one who got to.

One night turned into two, three, fifteen. Then into a fucked up prototype of a relationship around the time their stages got bigger, more packed with screaming teenagers and all of you met her – heroin. Graham got proportionally and gradually more distressed and anxious each day. You didn't know which one of these things disturbed him the most, after all, he didn't speak to you (or anyone, for fuck's sake) like he used to. Thousands of little things began to intercalate and swallow everything you've built together.

You've started to hate him - he refused to speak to you about what was bothering him, and you barely talked outside of the inevitable circumstances. Meanwhile, Alex dragged you even deeper into his questionable lifestyle and you shrinked into it until you could pretend it fit you like a glove. You felt so small. Invisible to everything and everyone who truly mattered, even to yourself. You tried to reach out to the one who mattered most plenty of times, but every time you tried to reach out to him it would end up in screams and even more resentment. It seemed like there was no way back - he hated you as well because he thought you were just like Alex. It felt like a knife was twisted in your stomach when he said it the first time. You pretended it didn't hurt the other ones - those were the nights your binges were the worst and you'd vomit yourself to sleep, though.

Everything was leading you to one of those nights again, until you heard a knock on your door. At this time of night, it was definitely Alex.

You tried to tidy yourself up as much as you could in a matter of a few minutes. You thought you weren't as effortlessly beautiful as the other women in his life - as if cheating had something to do with appearance and not with his character, but oh well - and you felt like you had to at least try to keep up with their pace. You washed your face, smeared some foundation on some old stretch (and track) marks and tried to pretend his presence was the brightest spot on your day. He disguised so much criticism under the pretense of worry, leaving you feeling so bad about yourself, but you needed his approval like you needed air on your lungs (or opioids on your veins) for some reason you couldn't quite explain.

You open the door, holding your breath while you tried to ignore the pit that grew on your stomach just to find out that...

"Graham?" You were simultaneously relieved and revolted to see him on your door. Adrenaline ran through your veins. You didn't realize how afraid you were of him - you've only hurt one another with words, but still, you were afraid to cross eyes with him just because you felt like it would start another fight and you would simply never speak to each other ever again, not even to fight. You were afraid of how deep your friendship has corroded.

He was visibly hurting, just like you. It comforted and hurt you to see it.

"You were waiting for him, weren't you?" He noted, vaguely motioning towards the lipstick on your lips. You felt pathetic.

"What are you doing here?" You quickly wiped the lipstick off your lips while he looks around, not really knowing what to answer. His eyes, puffy, somehow indicated he wasn't there to say he was sorry. At that point, you didn't even cared who was in the wrong. You just wanted to know why he was there.

"Just came here to tell you that... I'm leaving Blur, and... I'll be moving to Germany with a friend. Tomorrow."

"What kind of joke is this?"

"I wanted to tell you because... I felt like we got so used to each other's presence t-that... even if you're relieved by the news, uh, I think you should know in advance."

There was no mischief in his eyes. There was no point in joking with something like that. It's not like you were comfortable enough with each other to joke with each other nowadays anyway. That realization crushed you and anchored you to the very confusing and tragic reality just laid out in front of you.

It was so uncharacteristic. You knew of his tendency to run away from these types of situations and this time he simply didn't. Your mouth refused to close. "I-I don't understand. You... You can't... You can't just do that. You have a fucking gig tomorrow!"

"I won't justify myself to you. Just... take care of yourself and... don't let that leech suck the life out of you more than he already did."

"You don't understand. You don't understand anything. Is this about him? Again?" In yet another wave of adrenaline, you pulled him inside your flat and he just lets you. "Are you moving to bloody Germany because of what went on between us today?!"

"I don't care that you don't love me. I care that I can't go for a fucking day without seeing you waste away your life with him. If he was someone that made you happy... but he's just killing you. I can't deal with that."

Still in shock, you pulled him in a desperate kiss. It was not an attempt of making him stay, but something else entirely new. He had to say he was leaving so you could really know, in a matter of a few seconds, how much you needed him there.

His reciprocity simultaneously broke your heart and filled it with hope - you knew how far your relationship with Alex went and how tough it would be to break free from the chains he's got your heart tangled in, but at the same time, Coxon kissed you in a way no one else ever did. He loved you like no one else could. And that's how you noticed how easily you clinged to any sign of true affection given how much Alex's been neglecting your emotional and physical needs lately. Everything was about him all the time, it was a monologue. Graham and you had a conversation.

(A conversation that lasted all night. Thankfully, Alex didn't show up. He must've been talking to someone else.)

Instead of sweet nothings and love confessions, funnily enough, you and Graham exchanged soft "I hate you"s after the deed was done. You both hated the situation you were in. Hated that even though the passion burned hot as fire between you, you were stuck in a mess bigger than everything that just went through both of you. But never each other. You just couldn't name the feeling right.

Perhaps needless to mention, he stayed in the United Kingdom. Instead of sitting and talking like adults about what you felt about each other though, the bickering somehow became even worse.

Of course you started to take his side on fights more often. Mock Alex's behavior together more often. Something definitely changed between the two of you, but it still wasn't enough. Graham was still furious that you wouldn't give up on James. You were still furious that he wouldn't take your relationship with Alex seriously. It had its many faults, yes, but it was special in a way no one else grasped and you were raised to think that people shouldn't give up on others that easily, a convention that no modern deconstruction of social norms could take out of you out of a sudden. Not even Graham. But instead of raising your voices and breaking things around you, you've found other means to release the tension between you. Usually in dark corners of untidy pubs, his flat or yours. It became so frequent it didn't need any planning anymore.

Following the opposite path of the earlier days of your animosity, the more intense the fights got now, the lower your voices got. Instead of distancing yourselves from each other in the middle of screams, your bodies got closer like magnets. He could be so tender somehow even when his words stung like venom.

You were living and breathing contradictions. Him in the way he conveys his hopeless submissiveness to you in the way every touch of yours breaks him and the way he just isn't able to cum if he sees you're not having enough pleasure, yet he fucks you like he wants it to hurt and pretends nothing happened after you're done; and you in the way you cling to him like he's your lifeline when he's deep inside of you but isn't hesitant to not look him in the eye on some other nights.

The night of one of the parties thrown by Blur's record company following the release of The Great Escape wasn't one of the latter.

While the lower floor of the venue is frenetic with people immersed in different levels of ecstasy caused by all sorts of different substances, the upper floor is reserved to the lovers, or people who were looking for a calmer place to talk or to relatively safely de-escalate from their highs. You, on the other hand, just wanted to run away from the view of Alex kissing another woman in the event he brought you to. You were almost falling asleep in one of the tiny, dimly lit and cramped rooms when a small, familiar voice woke you up. "Why aren't you downstairs with your future husband?"

You feel aloof. The slightest mention of the one you think you love disgruntles you. "Ugh. I should have known it was you," you grumble, giving him room to share the sofa with you. "You know why."

"I don't. Someone once told me I don't understand anything." He accepts the offer almost unconsciously. It's so interesting to see how his actions contradict his words and posture, just like your actions contradict yours.

"I'm still right about that. Why did you come here? To mock me?"

"You're lost."

"And so are you. Don’t talk. I don’t want to hear it."

"Do you want me to leave?" he asks, calmly, knowing what the answer will be.

It's always a no.

You instinctively move closer to him, as if he's about to disappear in a cloud of dust in any moment. You don't ever want him to leave.

He notices your eyes are glistening when your lips touch, so smoothly and in such a tender way. His hands enter your hair, just below your ears, and you melt at his touch all over again.

The kiss starts out slow, then becomes more and more intense. His tongue slides against yours and you whine, clutching at him like he’s the only thing tethering you to this earth. It becomes so easy to let him settle between your thighs. He runs one of his large hands through your hair, fists it, and pulls your head so he can have easier access to your neck, filling it with open-mouthed kisses. “Why the fuck,” you manage to murmur in between heavy breaths, “do you care so much about me?”

He doesn't answer. His fingers trace the hem of your dress instead, skimming up the side of your leg. You whimper as he moves them over the sensitive skin to the apex of your thighs, his lips finding the side of your throat again. He sucks a mark into your skin just as his thumb caress your core so lightly above your underwear and you whisper, voice trembling with desire: "You're so much better than him."

He's not sure if you're just leading him on, and neither are you. He doesn't even know if he has heard it right. The fog really blurs every line. Reason, feelings, motives. "You never cried over me", he answers, seeking to turn that reality around, it seemed. Your hips buck into his touch, and a moan escapes you when his hand coyly seeks direct contact with your clit, stimulating it with precision from the start. "You truly... don't know shit," you gasp, grinding harder against his touch and losing yourself to his ministrations, the fog of an earlier hit helping in enveloping you in a state of so much bliss.

"Do you want me to lock the door?" His raspy voice takes you out of this world. You nod, a little disappointed by having such a great feeling interrupted for the sake of privacy. Your lips were spit-slick and pinkened, your eyes half lidded. The sight made Graham breathe hard through his nose, but he somehow kept his composure. When he goes to lock the door, you couldn't help noticing the tent you helped build in his jeans. You feel proud of yourself.

He returns with the hungry kisses and eager touches, slowly driving you crazy all over again. His kisses lower down, down... and you pat his shoulders, motioning for him to stop. "I want to make you feel good tonight." He accepts the offer.

You scooch downwards, just above his hips, and you pull his pants and the waistband to his briefs down in one swift motion. He's painfully hard, but that was hardly a surprise. Graham straightens his back just in time to watch you take the reddened head of his cock into your mouth. He claps a hand over his mouth, hips bucking upwards into the wet heat instinctively, your warm breath enveloping his dick and clouding his mind.

Wrapping your fingers around it, you gently jerk him off, slowly sliding your hand from the tip back to the base. He groans, watching you as you fill his senses with a dull warmth. You stare back at him, smiling as he groans at your warm breath.

You run the tip of your index finger tentatively along the underside of his cock, watching with fascination as his cock twitches and reacts to your presence. You lean forward, breathing on the head before planting a soft kiss on the tip. Coxon whimpers, his dick aching from your attention. Tired of the teasing, you begin stroking it, your soft fingers loosely bouncing along his shaft. He leans his head back to the ceiling when you kiss the tip again.

You eye his cock excitedly, before you lean forward and lick his head, swirling your tongue around the crown and flicking it across the tip. His hips thrust forward before you can even react, his mind reeling as your tongue slowly traces along a vein you followed from the head all the way to the base. He groans, and was about to say something when his mind went blank. He sees pure white, his brain shutting down almost completely as you wrap your mouth around the end of his cock and set a steady rhythm to the oral stimulation. His chest rumbles as a deep growl of satisfaction leaves him, shaking through the air, the vibrations in your mouth punctuating his growl with a hiss.

He cracks his eyes open, his glazed eyes staring down to find you staring directly at him. The sight of his rigid cock vanishing between your soft lips made his skin crawl. He groans heavily, grasping your head on instinct and thrusting forward.

You gasp lightly as he shoves himself deeper inside your mouth, pushing against your throat. He moans your name desperately, panting heavily as his hips automatically thrust against you. You stand firm, keeping only the front half of his cock in your mouth, slithering your tongue against the crown and watching intently for his reactions. He was close, his mind firmly on fire as his body reacted on autopilot, trying to extract as much pleasure as possible. He could feel his climax approaching, your soft lips and gentle eyes coaxing him on. You look into his eyes and give an experimental bob of your head, taking him further into your mouth. Feeling the characteristic salty taste of precum on your tongue, you take your mouth off his cock, and before his mind is able to form a cohesive sentence of protest, you take off your underwear and sit on his lap. His hands now squeeze your hip, pulling you closer. Your wetness leaves a bit of a trail on his legs before you sink on his hard, already lubricated cock.

"You're addicted to my cock, aren't you," It's fascinating how Graham's behavior changes when he's drunk. In the best and worst ways. He would never say something like that while sober. You nod in agreement, face flush with arousal and need. "He can't even fuck you," he punctuactes with an especially hard thrust, "like I can." he envelops you in a sort of hug as his broad shoulders and arms now dictate the rhythm you both follow.

"He--c-an't, fuck--"

"Do you think," he takes his entire cock out of you just so he can go even deeper when he says, "he'll hear us... if you say my name out loud?" he smiles when a loud moan escapes your lips, feeling completely in control of your body. You can't even talk anymore, just nod, like a marionette.

"So say it." Another thrust. And another. And another. You follow his pace with your hips religiously, not even slightly ashamed of making the name of the one who's giving you so much pleasure public, as he commanded. You take the last atom of control on your body and direct it to your pussy, clenching your walls tighter around him, an action that successfully tears his thoughts apart, making his eyebrows furrow and his mouth, agape. One of his hands move to the middle of your bodies and, as he looks down at where your bodies meet, begins to stimulate your clit to the rhythm of his thrusts. His groans turn louder when your body moves towards his again, and the sound of your moans, along with the sound of skin against skin and your ragged breaths were the only thing you were able to hear, along with the distant sound of It Could Be You playing in the background.

In a daze, he says your name in that unique way that only he knew how to - like it was part of a prayer and your body was his God(dess). You dig your nails into his back while he fucks you without a trace of mercy. You close your eyes, losing yourself in all those sensations as Graham continued his movements. When he punctuates his now even faster thrusts with a string of "fuck, fuck, fuck" - that's when you know he's close, a suspicion confirmed true as he comes hard inside of you, closing his eyes tightly as he reached his climax. You follow him seconds later.

When he recovers enough to be able to breathe calmly and control his heartbeat, Graham rests his chin on your shoulder. Neither of you say anything for a long time.

And when the spasms of pleasure are gone, Graham's brain decides to go back to work and he realizes what had just happened - again. Suddenly, the sensation of bliss is accompanied by that weird sensation of "What do I do now?". He carefully removes his dick from you and pulls his jeans up, zipping up his pants while you straighten your dress and search for your panties in the middle of the dark. Both without saying a single word.

Graham clears his throat, glancing at the mirror behind the door and seeing his state was deplorable. His face reddened by the heat and his hair a perfect mess. You were in no better situation than him.

“Uh,” Graham said a long time later, breaking the silence. “How long is that arrangement supposed to last?”

"I won't count the time." You responded calmly.

He nods, mystified by you.

#graham coxon #graham coxon x reader #graham x reader #britpop #smut #imagine #reader insert #blur #blur band #90s

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ramp-it-up · 3 years

Text

Fresh Squeeze Ch. 8

Pairing: Daveed Diggs x OFC Linden Marshall (You)

Set in 2023, post-pandemic

Warnings: Cursing, AAANGST yet SMUT. Mention of Death, Anthony Ramos, Coached masturbation, heavy petting, sunscreen. Fluff. Plot. Mature themes and situations.18+.

Word Count: 4.6 K

Plot: Linden is trying to run from her feelings for Daveed after a lot of trauma and a shitty ex. Daveed assumes and hits a nerve and Linden just wants to hit that. It’s her birthday weekend y’all!

Read the Previous Chapter

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“Let this be a thing…”

You smiled at the possibilities of the situation.

“Let’s let this flow. It’s my birthday weekend. I want to have fun.” You turned around and faced Daveed. “With you.”

You reached up and gave him a gentle kiss on the lips. They were so succulent, but you didn’t allow yourself to get sucked in, literally or figuratively. You had to get some control back.

You looked up at him and he was hopeless. He struggled to continue to hold himself back.

Daveed thought about how tight you were around his fingers. He would have you screaming in this fitting room again, this time with you impaled on his dick.

“That’s all that matters right now. I like this vibe.”

D nodded at you. “You’re right.” Daveed cleared his throat as you two gazed at each other. “I guess we gotta find a way to get out of here.”

You chuckled. “Yeah. The walk of shame.”

You straightened your clothes and gathered the garments you were going to try on escaping the fitting room with only a passing smirk from the attendant.

You giggled at his lowkey “Get it,” and Daveed rolled his eyes as you passed by.

You decided to get all of the clothes you’d wanted to try on, but got distracted from trying on because of your shenanigans. You piled everything on the register.

Daveed was so unsure. About what just happened; about what could happen. He didn’t want to fumble this beautiful bag.

Before you could speak, he stepped up to the register.

“We’ll take them all.”

You gave Daveed a side eye. You smiled at the woman at the counter.

“Yes, I will.”

You opened your purse to get your credit card out, trying to remain calm and collected.

“Linden, let me.”

Daveed really thought he was about to pay for all of your clothes up in here. This was not it. He was assuming too much.

“No, Daveed. I got it. Thank you though.”

There was no mistaking the acidity under your sweet tone. You didn’t know what Daveed thought this was….

“But, this is a lot. And it’s your birthday.”

Your smile widened even though your rage grew, “All the more reason it should be my prerogative.”

“Lindy…”

“Daveed.”

You stared at each other down for a hot minute and then finally Daveed just closed his mouth and watched as you pulled a black amex card out of your wallet and signed for the total, which was over $2200.

You didn’t blink an eye.

The fun you shared in the fitting room was long gone. Things had gotten real tense real fast.

“Can I at least help you carry them?”

You ignored Daveed as you struggled with the bags, then put them down on the corner of the street outside the store.

You got your phone out to order a ride.

“What the fuck was that Daveed?”

He took you in, your little angry body turning him on.

“I was trying to be nice.” Daveed couldn’t hide his irritation with you. Was this even worth it?

“Why do you think that paying for my stuff would be ‘nice?’”

Daveed was confused.

“Well, I know you’re not with Mark anymore and you were in school and everything and Columbia is expensive. I just didn’t want you to have to go into more debt on your birthday weekend.”

“Why would I be going into debt?” Your eyes were full of murder. “Shit Daveed, you just don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.”

You looked up at him as if you were going to fight him. Daveed wondered how many times he needed to make you cum before you would calm down. He was going to find out.

“Obviously I don’t, because I don’t know why the fuck you’re mad at me because I wanted to do something nice...I-”

A car pulled up beside you.

“That’s just the fuck WHY Daveed. You don’t know anything about me.”

And then you grabbed your bags, flung them in the back of the car and got in, leaving Daveed on the corner of a street in Isabella, Puerto Rico, wondering what the fuck had just happened.

------

You were actually vibrating with rage all the way back to the beach house. You texted Jas for the combination to the front door and let her know where you were.

She made a remark about giving you and Daveed time alone and you didn’t correct her, you just needed some space.

You got your bags into your room and then went back out to the kitchen for a bottle of water.

Daveed came in as you sat and drank, looking out of the great room windows.

You sat up straight on the stool and tried to ignore him.

Daveed had ordered a car as soon as yours drove away, vowing to find out what that scene was all about.

He had not had to chase anyone in a long time and he felt like he was way too old for it. But he couldn’t help himself.

Now, he was standing here approaching you like a wild animal.

“Do you want to tell me what just happened?”

You just tried to will this intrusion into your life and your emotions away. Maybe if you ignored him he would disappear.

You just could not take anymore pain and Daveed was dangerous.

He could hurt you. Bad.

“Linden.”

Daveed came around beside you and watched your profile as you closed your eyes and tried to shut him out.

“Please.”

Damn. You swallowed and opened your mouth to speak. You almost couldn’t say the words. You continued to look at the ocean.

“Dell takes care of me.”

Daveed looked at you carefully. You continued to stare straight ahead.

“The accident. The driver of the truck that hit us was drunk AND high. The company knew of his history and didn’t take him from behind the wheel.”

You took a deep breath and continued.

“We had good lawyers. I not only list my twin, but my left ovary and the ability to have children without a very involved medical procedure.”

Daveed really didn’t want to hear anymore. He felt terrible.

“There was a 30 million dollar settlement, 5 million to my mom with 25 million in trust until I turned 25 years old.”

You didn’t know why you were telling him all this.

“So when I say I got it, Daveed. I got it.”

You looked at him, something in your eyes that spoke of strength and brokenness.

Daveed wanted to throw himself off a cliff as he watched the tears roll down your cheek. Got damnit he was such an idiot.

“I’m sorry, Linden….”

“Don't be sorry Daveed. I just can’t do this. I can’t let you hurt me like Mark, like every other person who thinks they know me. I can not…..”

You just shook your head and walked toward your room. Daveed’s long legs got ahead of you and he just stood in your way as you walked.

“Linden. I’m not going to let you run away.”

You two played a slow game of human foosball. After a minute, you just stopped.

“Move Daveed. Let me go.”

He put his arms up, but he didn’t move.

“I’m not holding you. But I’m here Lindy, and I’m not going to leave you alone. I’m sorry that I made such a boneheaded assumption, and I’m sorry I made you bring up something so painful. But I’m not like everyone else. I think I…”

All of a sudden, you wanted him to stop talking. You grabbed him around his waist and gave him a hug, sobbing into his chest.

Daveed brought his arms down around you and held you while you cried, just as he did that first night. He still felt good.

This time, however, was different. Daveed bent down and picked you up, taking you into your bedroom bridal style.

He kicked the bags out of the way and lay down with you on the bed.

“Daveed, I…”

“I just want to hold you Lindy. Relax.”

You stopped protesting and went with the flow. You let him hold you and did as he instructed, you relaxed, your head on his chest, listening to the slow, steady beat of his heart under one ear and the ocean out of your other.

You felt the soothing thrill of him playing on your scalp and with your curls with his left hand as his right caressed your left leg, which was thrown across his thighs.

Before he knew it, you were softly snoring in his arms, and Daveed knew that his fate was sealed. The road to your heart was full of landmines, but he had to try to get there.

------

You woke up to the sounds of giggling.

Jasmine and Craig were standing over you and Daveed on the bed. You were a little confused, but you and D woke up to an audience.

“Whyyyyy are you still fully clothed?”

You grimaced at Craig and threw a pillow at them as Daveed sat up and grinned.

“Get the fuck outta my room Craig.” He dodged it successfully.

“We ain’t got time for you to waste all weekend NOT fucking around. Chop chop.” Craig walked out of your room as you stuck your tongue out as his back.

Jasmine laughed at you and followed him.

“We’re going to have dinner out by the pool if you wanna join. Swimsuits required. The chef will be here in a few and Craig and I want to get some sun before the show tonight.” She looked at you over your shoulder as she left.

“Or if you two want to stay in, that would probably be dope too…”

You shook your head at her back as she closed the door.

------

You sat up on the edge of the bed, feeling a bit awkward. You put your head in your hands and let your curls hide your face. What the fuck were you on? It was like you had experienced the rollercoaster of a relationship, all in 18 hours.

Daveed sat up against the headboard, eyeing you warily.

“I want you Linden. I’m sorry for assuming earlier, but you gotta let me in so I know how not to. I need you to be absolutely clear about what you want.”

“I… I want you too, Daveed. I’m just really scared about being hurt again.”

He closed his eyes when he heard your admission. Slowly but surely.

You raised your head and looked over at him. You’d exhausted him already.

“I don’t want to hurt you Lindy. But we’re both human. And too grown for the games.”

“I don’t want to play any games with you Daveed. I mean… well….”

He opened his eyes and stared at you. He heard the invitation in your tone. This was a dangerous situation. He looked at his watch. It was about 4 pm.

The show started at 10 and although he wanted to start something and finish with you all afternoon and night… it might have to wait. He leaned his head back and fantasized.

“What are you thinking about?”

Daveed opened one eye. He was attractive as fuck. He opened the other one and then closed them again.

“You don’t wanna know.”

You were intrigued. You turned toward him and put your leg up on the bed, half indian style.

“Yes I do! I must know all the things.” Your voice raised at the end of the sentence, making D smile.

Daveed wished he had the time to tame your control freak ways.

“You really don’t.”

“YES I DO.”

Daveed opened his eyes at your tone and you immediately calmed it down a bit, while your heart beat faster.

“You tryna stay in this room or you want to go out on the deck with everyone else?”

You looked down at the bed and bit your lip. You saw his huge hand on the bed, the veins prominent and the fingers impossibly long. You looked back up at him and swallowed.

“W-we should probably join Craig an ‘nem….”

That stutter. Oh, the control Daveed was utilizing at the moment.

“Then you definitely don’t want to know what I was thinking.”

Fuck. Now you definitely did want to know.

You pulled your other leg on the bed and then sat on your knees.

“Pleeaseeee Daveeed.”

You. Begging. This was heaven or hell, Daveed couldn’t figure out which. But he didn’t move from his position, just clasped his hands in his lap. Because reasons.

“Actually, you on your knees made up a lot of my thoughts.”

You smiled a little.”So, you want me to suck your dick?” You’d decided to try it.

Daveed grunted and then looked to your face.

“That sounds nice. Those pretty lips wrapped around my dick. I wonder if you could take it all? Gag reflex?”

Instant waterfall. You moaned a little, and were so mesmerized you couldn't answer. Daveed sped on.

“But don’t be so unimaginative. You on your knees can involve lots of things.”

Daveed moved, not too fast, and came around the bed behind you. You shivered as he put his hand on your neck and then trailed it down your spine.

“Up. Let me see that arch.”

You obeyed of course, on your hands and knees on the bed, the arch in your back perfect for fucking. Daveed was looking at your ass and you hoped he couldn’t see your wetness beginning to trickle down your thigh.

“You could be on your knees with me behind you, eating you out from behind.”

Daveed kneeled behind you, face to face with your barely cloth covered crotch. You moaned as you felt him get nearer to your core. Daveed stopped.

“You good?” You nodded frantically, and Daveed continued closer.

“We’re gonna need a safeword.”

“Holy fuck!”

“Nah, that wouldn’t be a good one, because I have a feeling you might be saying that a lot.”

Daveed placed three kisses at your core, one on either inner thigh, and one on the strip of his jeans covering your clit. You started clenching as he pulled himself away, licking his lips. He’d captured some of your moisture on his mouth. You tasted better than he imagined.

“Or you could be on your knees riding my face, letting me drink from your pretty little fountain.”

Daveed sat on the floor and placed his head between your legs on the bed, looking up at your pussy in his jeans. He just looked, not daring to touch you or himself. You reached down and caressed his curls.

“Daveed, please..”

“No, no. You wanted to know what I was thinking.” He slid out from under you like a mechanic.

He stood up behind you, put his hand on your ass and smoothed all the way down to the back of your neck, pushing your head down to the bed.

“How about me behind you on your knees, face in the bed with you keeping that ass up, while I pound that shit from behind? I wanna see that ass shake as I give you these back shots.”

And Daveed started the motion, pushing his hard, jeans covered dick into your ass, rubbing at first and giving you some friction, but driving you insane.

You turned your head to the side to moan as Daveed pulled his hips back and snapped them forward, then sped up and gave you a pounding through your clothes.

Daveed hooked his fingers into your shorts, about to pull them down, when he stopped. He shook his head, trying to clear the sex high from his brain. He stepped back.

You lay panting on the bed, lost in the moment. You took a deep ragged breath to calm down and then turned over on your back. You watched him watching you, knowing that he was holding back from fucking the shit out of you.

“What are you thinking Daveed?”

His voice was so damn deep. “That I want you to be ensconced around my dick. That I want all kinds of orgasms to happen, that you need to be cumming right now, Linden.”

He then cleared his throat. “But that we probably have an audience right outside that door right now.”

“Hmmmm. I agree that I need to be cumming right now.” You smiled at him and stretched. ”But what about you Daveed?”

“Not quite yet. That HDD will be on point for the show tonight.”

You got up on your knees, facing away from him and moved your hand to the waistband of your shorts. He watched in fascination as you touched yourself, your slick more than lubricating your fingers.

“What about me riding you on my knees. I LOVE Reverse Cowgirl.”

Daveed’s eyes began to water as he saw the vision. He saw your arm moving and your hips undulating. He moved behind you and pulled you to lean back onto him, your shoulders against his chest as he looked down to watch you finger yourself under the shorts.

So fucking sexy.

“What are you doing?” His velvet voice in your ear was everything.

As if he didn’t know. As if he couldn’t see. As if he wasn��t just doing the same thing less than two hours ago. The view from over your shoulder was the shit. Damn shame there were clothes involved, but the fact that they were his clothes made it pretty hot.

“MM.mmm...mmm…” You were gasping, his voice and proximity getting you there quickly.

“No, that won’t do. If you wanna be a Good Girl for me, you gotta use those words.”

“Fuck.. I mean… Yes. Sir…”

You heard his chest vibrate with a whimper when you said that.

“What Are you doing Linden?”

Your eyes rolled back in your head and it lolled against Daveed’s chest as he brought his hands up to your hips to help keep you steady.

“I- I’m trying to cum, Sir…”

“Where is your hand?” Daveed was intently using his imagination to visualize.

“Nnnnh nnh, circling my c-c-clit…”

Daveed huffed. “Good Girl.” He gripped your hips harder as they shook.

“Are you wet like you were earlier? That shit feels like, like, liquid satin. Man, I can’t wait to be deep in that…”

He dipped his lips to your neck, eyes glued to your arm emerging from your pants. He bit at your pulse point.

“Ah!” You were sooo close.

“I just hope you can take it all. S’pretty big.”

You whimpered at the thought of the pleasure, and at the yearning to be filled up right now.

“Ohhhhhh.” So very close.

“Need time to prepare you. It might hurt a bit at first.”

You bit your lip at the spring was about to snap.

“But I think I know that you like it to hurt a lil bit... I don’t give a fuck if you get mad, I might have to buy you some nipple clamps…”

His hands moved smoothly up your sides under the t-shirt and cupped your breasts, ghosting over your rock hard nipples. Suddenly, he took each between his thumb and forefingers and twisted roughly.

“FUCKKKKKKK!!”

Your body rocked at your orgasm and you took your hand away from your core, too sensitive to continue. Daveed grabbed it and took it to his mouth, sucking your juices off, causing aftershocks to jerk your hips.

He moaned with your fingers in his mouth and then released them, kissing your neck again. He chuckled.

“You wouldn't get off that easy if I had the time. I’d make you take all of everything. Including your orgasms. Better be ready.”

You turned around and stepped off the bed into his arms. Daveed held you, not daring to go down to the bed again.

Your head was on his chest. Even after all that, you were too shy to look up in his eyes.

“How do you make me cum doing the bare minimum? You hardly touched me.”

Daveed smiled. He felt the same way. He was about to nut in his pants like a teenage boy a few minutes ago.

“You sure you want this?”

You finally looked at him. Those eyes.

“Yeah.’

“You sure you want all this crazy?”

“Mos def.” Daveed kissed your forehead and smiled down at you, eyes crinkling adorably.

It was time for your hands to roam. You palmed him through his jeans.

“Let me take care of you D….” You moved to unbutton him and he pulled out of your reach as you pouted.

Daveed smoothed his thumb over your lips.

“Like I said, I’d like nothing more.” Then he cocked his head and looked up. “Well, I’d like few things more… but If my dick comes out in this room right now, we would not leave for the rest of the weekend.”

He leaned down to kiss you with a sweet and filthy promise.

“Patience, Lindy.” He took a deep breath and backed toward the door.

“See you at dinner.”

You just stared at him, daring him to stay.

“Ok. Leave then. But Daveed. If I hear you turn my doorknob, I’ll be faceup on the bed butt-ass naked, waiting for you if you come back in.” You started unbuttoning and unzipping your shorts.

Daveed stopped with his eyes wide, the angel and devil in his head wrestling with each other. He finally cleared his throat as he turned around and left.

“See you at dinner Lindy.”

The vision of you bending over toward him taking down your shorts with an evil smile was burned into his brain as he closed your door. He stood there looking at the floor and contemplating going back in. When he looked up, there were four pairs of eyes looking at him.

He straightened up and went to his room as his friends watched him like a hawk, then rolled with laughter.

-----

Daveed hopped in the shower, and quickly got himself off to calm down. He slipped on some blue swim trunks and his white sunglasses, ran out and cannon balled into the pool, causing Jasmine to cuss him out as he splashed her hair.

He’d been chilling on a pool float a good twenty minutes when he saw his favorite animal out of the corner of his eye. Damn.

“Look at that genius ass.”

Rafa commented and looked over from the float beside him and laughed at Daveed who was crossing himself.

“Dude! You’re jewish.”

Daveed cocked his eyebrow at his best friend.

“I’m gonna need all the help I can get.”

You’d spent 30 minutes picking out your most modest swimsuit, then grabbed a quick shower. You were shy by the time you walked out onto the pool deck, but no one was paying that much attention to you. No one, except for Daveed.

His chill disappeared as he climbed out of the pool, over to your lounge chair. Your sunglasses only partially hid you clocking him as he emerged, dripping wet. Damn, that body you thought.

He walked over to the chair next to yours and picked up a towel and started to dry off.

“Hey. You good?”

You smiled at him.

“Hey. I’m great.” You smiled wider.

You appraised him, as the delicious smell of something cooking wafted from the house. The sun was still bright, even though it was afternoon.

“You need a hand with some sunscreen? You’ll want to make sure that it is on evenly.”

You stood up and bent at the waist to get the sunscreen out of the bag you’d brought out. Daveed licked his lips and you were all too ready to get your hands on Daveed again.

He looked at you and bit his lip. “Sure, why not?”

He cocked his head and eyebrow at you. Then, he raised his hands to the side of his body..

Your mouth started watering. You went around to his back and resisted the urge to put your arms around him and rest your head on him.

Instead, you evenly distributed some cream on his well-sculpted shoulders and back. You let your fingers dip a little bit into his swim trunks, feeling the top of the muscles contained within.

“Turn around.” Your voice was everything at that moment to Daveed. He did as you commanded.

“You don’t think I can take it from here?” He questioned you as you squeezed some more cream into your hand.

“I have a technique. I can make sure it’s on evenly. Its already out of the tube.” You looked him dead in the eye as you rubbed your hands together, listing the reasons why you should keep your hands on him.

Diggs chuckled, then let you have your way.

“I’m all yours."

His eyes held a look like he meant it when he said that. Your heart did a funny dance.

You held his gaze as you spread the cream on his shoulders and out to his arms. Then, you got some more cream and started on his pecs. You spread it on, rubbing your palms against his nipples.

Daveed’s eyes closed in ecstacy. Then, your hands went down. You traced his eight pack as you continued to stare him in his eyes which opened as you started going south.

You licked your lips as your hands went where his happy trail would have been if he hadn’t shaved. At that moment, his cock jumped and you were so close you could feel it.

Your eyes widened when you remembered that you were not alone….

Shit!

You and Daveed both turned your heads and saw your friends watching the show as you were about to go for the gold in Daveed’s swim trunks.

The deck erupted into screams, whistles and applause as everyone laughed at your lust.

You both blushed and moved apart.

“Okay pervs, the show is over.” Daveed said as you moved to sit on the beach chairs.

D returned the favor for you; his hands on your body having the same effect on you as earlier, but the difference was you were self conscious now.

-----

Dinner was chill, and you two enjoyed your surroundings and your friends, both of you sitting as far apart as possible.

The dance you did was delicate, but everyone noticed the new intimacy despite the high sexual tension. You drank some wine, but not too much, and Daveed had about two Johnny Walker Blacks.

Rafa led the discussion of music, politics and culture and the weekend was vibing. You were very content in the moment. By 7:30, Daveed, Rafa, and Ant had to start to get ready to leave for the show.

You walked him inside and you shared a few kisses. You felt like a kid as he held you.

“Daveed.”

“Yes?”

“Daveed, tonight I want….” you looked into his eyes, which were meeting yours boldly.

“What do you want Lindy?”

“I want you to be with me tonight, Daveed. Spend the night in my room.” Daveed was on top of the world.

“Done. But I want you to decide after the show what we're going to do in your room tonight Lindy. We can just go to sleep.” His smile was mischievous.

You didn’t understand. “You playing hard to get?”

That heat, that anger in you. That was that shit he liked.

“Oh. I’m not hard to get. Get me hard Lindy.” Knowing full well he was a second away form just that.

“Meet me backstage after the show.”

He pulled away and went into his room, leaving Linden hot, bothered, and soaking wet.

----

Next Chapter

Ahhhhh! I feel so rusty! Let me know if it’s any good. I missed this!

Taglist. (Let me know if you want on. Or off, lol)

@theatrenerd86 @sebastianabucknettastan @imatyoursurrvicesurr @riiyy @ivycomet @lonelydance @jbrizzywrites @sillyteecup @ohsoverykeri @theselilwonders @curtainremote @biafbunny @summerofsnowflakes @honeysucklechocolatedrippin @peaches-and-mangoes

#Daveed Diggs #daveed diggs smut #daveed imagine #daveed x reader #daveed diggs x reader #Daveed x Linden #Daveed x Lindy #daveed diggs x black reader #daveed diggs x ofc reader #daveed diggs x you #daveed diggs x oc #daveed diggs x ofc character linden marshall #hamilfam #anthony ramos #Jasmine Cephas Jones #Rafael Casal #bay boys

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thishintoflove · 3 years

Text

“Dress” - The Equalizer 2 Fanfic

TSwift Songfic Week Day 6

Pairing: Dave York x F!Reader

Warnings: 18 + Explicit (Language, P/V sex, bondage, light sub/dom, role reversal)

Summary: Dave's got himself into a tight situation and it's up to you to rescue him. But you're going to have some fun first.

A/N: I think we all agree that Dave York (aka murder daddy) likes to be in control. So I took that control away from him.

“Hey, are you around? Dave needs some help.”

Resnik’s tone was neutral through the line, and you felt your heart rate increase. You held your phone between your shoulder and your ear as you finished cleaning the dishes from dinner, but you shut off the water when you responded to your teammate.

“Shit, is he okay? Were you guys out working? Did something go wrong?” you asked, trying and failing to not sound overly concerned.

The man’s chuckle calmed your nerves immediately. “He’s fine, for the most part. We were running a training exercise and he lost,” he responded, “It took all three of us to beat him, but he’s still bitter about losing. Now he’s just being a baby about it. He asked for your help instead of ours."

You sighed. Just a stupid training exercise.

“Jesus, Resnik, don’t scare me like that,” you replied, “I don’t understand why you guys still run this kind of stuff anyway. Why risk getting hurt outside of work?”

Resnik just laughed into the phone again. “You’re not a field guy so you wouldn’t understand. Anyway, I’ll text you the address and you can go pick him up.”

“Fine,” you reply, hanging up.

You’ve been working with these guys for years now and they still got on your nerves sometimes. You ran intelligence for the team. You were the best analyst at the agency. But when Dave approached you about a new opportunity, a better source of income outside the agency, you jumped on board with the rest of the boys. Now you helped them out on their mercenary operations too.

You quickly finished cleaning up and grabbed your bag and keys. Luckily the address Resnik gave you was only about a twenty minute drive, which was convenient because you weren’t planning on a late night. Unless you had a rendezvous with Dave planned, you were usually in bed by 9:30. This was really throwing a wrench in your evening but you knew Dave wouldn’t ask for you specifically unless he really needed you. The rest of the team didn’t know about your sexual relationship with him-- you’d both agreed it was for the best to keep it a secret so that it didn’t hurt the team dynamics.

You paused in the doorway to the garage, an idea suddenly popping in your head. You knew Dave was alone, which meant you could turn this annoying situation into a suggestive surprise. Time to trade your sweats for that new dress. You quickly ran back to your room to change before you left. If Dave was going to drag you out to rescue him, you could at least have a little fun.

Our secret moments in your crowded room

They've got no idea about me and you

There is an indentation in the shape of you

Made your mark on me, a golden tattoo

When you arrived at the address, you were surprised to find a nearly-complete model home in a fairly nice neighborhood. You parked your car and quietly slipped out, carefully walking up the front path in your tall heels. When you opened the front door, you had to cover your mouth to keep from laughing.

The house was completely bare, except for Dave-- he was tied to a kitchen chair in the middle of the empty living room, rope around his wrists, chest, and legs, and a gag in his mouth. Wow, this was some training exercise…

You paused in the doorway, leaning against the frame while Dave’s eyes widened as he drank you in. You wore a silky little black dress that clung to your curves and a pair of matching black heels. You ran your tongue over your bright red painted lips and slowly sauntered over to him.

You were unused to seeing him in any kind of compromised position, so this was a real treat for you. You stood over Dave and smiled. "You know, I kind of like this look on you. Very Damsel-in-Distress."

Dave muttered something through his gag but you just shook your head. "What was that? I couldn't quite catch it," you replied, a laugh tumbling from your crimson lips as Dave tried to shift in the chair. You knew he was probably fuming right now. Dave preferred to be in control, always. You’d never tried switching up your dynamic in the bedroom before.

Dave growled and tried mumbling something again while you tutted, "Now, that sounded a little like, ‘Thank you for coming to rescue me. Please will you untie me?’”

You circled the chair and ran one hand through his soft brown hair, letting your nails scratch his scalp. He groaned a little as his body turned on him and he reacted to your sultry taunts.

"Oh Davey…was that a moan?" you teased.

You paused behind him and ran your hands over his shoulders before leaning forward. You exhaled slowly and your warm breath blew softly across his neck and made the hair on his neck stand up, along with other parts of his body too.

"Do you know how much of an inconvenience this was? I was in for the night before I got the call saying you needed help. You know it’s very rude to get yourself taken hostage on a weeknight." You nipped at his earlobe and he jerked forward as much as his binds would allow.

All of this silence and patience, pining in anticipation

My hands are shaking from holding back from you

You grinned and wrapped your arms around him from behind and ran your tongue from his earlobe down to the nape of his neck and nipped at the skin. Dave tried desperately to mumble something coherent but he growled in frustration when he was silenced once more. You ignored him and ran your hand slowly across his shoulders as you moved around to his left side. "Look at these broad shoulders. These toned arms," you purred, leaning down and whispering in his ear again, "What good are they now, when you’re all tied up like this?"

You moved to stand in front of him and his eyes met yours once again, but now they were almost black with desire. You noticed that his breathing was ragged and he had stopped fighting against the ropes.

"Would you like to see some more?" you asked, gesturing at your tight dress. Dave didn't move or nod, but his eyes never left yours. It was almost too much to have his gaze focused entirely on you like that-- you felt sexy and desired, deeply desired.

You reached up and slowly unzipped the top part of your dress but left it on. A few steps forward was all it took before you sat yourself sideways on his lap. You nuzzled his neck as you settled in. "Is that your gun or are you just excited to see me?" you whispered in his ear, trying not to laugh as you uttered the cliche. Dave tried to shift a little underneath you to let you get the full feel of his excitement.

“Now that’s a good boy. Always ready to go.”

You flipped one leg over him and slid yourself forward on his lap. Your eyes met and you could feel his hardness pressing against your center. Dave strained against his bonds but you could tell it was more to get comfortable rather than to break free this time. His eyes never left yours.

Inescapable, I'm not even gonna try

And if I get burned, at least we were electrified

You smiled at him before leaning forward to nip and kiss the sensitive spot just below his ear that you knew drove him crazy. Dave’s head dropped back exposing his neck and you meticulously kissed your way around his firm jaw line and down his chin to the hollow at the base of his throat. Each and every kiss brought a new and more intense growl from Dave.

"Oh baby, you taste so good," you mumbled, sucking a small love bite-- the kind he normally left all over you. Dave lifted his hips beneath you and you moaned, making his lower body twitch. He mumbled something through the gag again.

You finally decided to take pity on him. “Dave, do you want me to take off the gag?"

He slowly nodded. You reached behind him and undid the knot holding the gag in place and released that beautiful mouth. He was barely free of it before he captured your lips with his in a hot and fervent kiss. You parted your lips slightly and he took advantage and slipped his tongue deep into your mouth dragging a guttural moan from you. Your tongues dueled and danced, and you cupped his face with your hands. When the need to breathe outweighed the need for each other, you broke the kiss.

“Fuck me. You’re just full of surprises, aren’t you baby?” Dave growled roughly.

You grinned back at him, “I like to keep you on your toes.”

“Well, you succeeded. How about untying me now?”

You tilted your head as if considering his proposition. But you weren’t ready to fully give up control yet.

“I think you can last a little longer…”

Your eyes locked again and you reached down between your bodies to find his belt. You found the zipper on his pants and made quick work of it. When you finally found your prize, your moan at how rock hard he was only surpassed by the guttural groan that leapt from Dave’s throat when you palmed him.

"Fuuuuuck, baby." Dave could barely get out the words from his effort to contain himself. "Hurry up then."

"We're almost there, babe," you cooed. You lifted yourself up for only a moment to tug your dress up above your hips. Dave’s face revealed his frustration and strain to hold still for you. You slipped one finger into your own wet folds to open yourself up, as you used your other hand to pump his length. A desperate sound rumbled from Dave’s chest.

"You've taken me too far, sweetheart…,” he groaned, as close to begging as you’ve ever heard, “I gotta..."

Before he could finish that thought you slid yourself down onto him and you both moaned into each other. You sank down slowly until your hips met his and he was fully inside you. After pausing a moment to adjust to the sensation, you lifted your hips again and set a steady rhythm.

"Oh, God, Dave, yes! Can you feel what you do to me?" you said, as you rocked and grinded on his lap, grabbing the back of the chair for leverage. Dave sat helpless beneath you. His self-control was slipping away as he accepted that he was completely in your hands now

Dave threw his head back and groaned, “So wet and tight…fucking amazing.”

You pushed forward and twisted your hips, and soon your passion erupted, pleasure cascading over you. Dave followed you over the edge at the same time, dark eyes falling shut and gasping as you clenched around him. Your breathing was rushed and shallow before a wave of complete exhaustion and calm fell over you. Your head dropped to Dave’s shoulder and you slipped your arms around him to untie the ropes around his chest. As soon as the binds loosened, his arms wrapped around your waist, tugging you closer.

I woke up just in time

Now I wake up by your side

My hands shake, I can't explain this

Only bought this dress so you could take it off

“So how did I do with the whole ‘rescuing’ thing? Am I ready for field work?”

Dave smirked. "You did fine, although it took you a little longer to get here than I would’ve liked. Now if you untie my legs we can get the hell out of here."

You smiled and gave him a small peck on the nose while he squeezed your waist. You rose from his lap and bent down to help untie his legs. You both took a moment to straighten yourselves up a little before heading for the door.

"Do you want me to drop you off at home?" you asked as you followed him to the car.

Dave looked at you with eyes still full of fire. His small half-smirk made your core clench again. "No. Let's go to your place and I'll tie you to a chair this time."

You grinned back at him. "Ok, but I'm not letting you wear the dress."

#dave york #the equalizer 2 #dave york x reader #dave york x you #pedro pascal fanfiction #my fanfic #fanfiction tag #also I feel like this song really fits the Dave vibe but ties less directly to the story than other ones #and yes #I’m a reputation apologist

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quillvine · 4 years

Text

Yacht

Aaron Hotchner x Reader

A/N: This is based off an ask I left @agenthotchner about the BAU on a yacht. Honestly I thought I would have this out two weeks ago but apparently I cannot proof read to save my life.

You didn’t think you had that many clothes in your closet. After looking through your clothes for what feels like hours, they’re all starting to blur into one big blob of color and you still have no idea what to wear.

You sigh as you paw through your closet, “What even counts as preppy clothes?” you ask Aaron.

“I don’t know honey, just wear whatever, you look good in anything,” he tells you.

Rossi had invited the team out for a trip on his new yacht for a day off. As soon as everyone heard the word ‘yacht’ (and ‘day off’) they were immediately on board. Especially Penelope who took the word yacht and ran with it, demanding that everyone wear preppy clothes, because “it’s a yacht you guys, preppy clothes are mandatory.”

It sounded like a fun idea at the time, but what the hell do preppy clothes look like?

“Baby, what do you think?” Aaron asks as he holds up two shirts, “Navy or red?”

“Uhh the Navy one, it goes nicely with those khakis I like.” You tell him as you go through your clothes.

“Oh, these khakis?” He says pulling out the pair from the dresser.

You look up to meet his eyes. The amusement in them matches the shit-eating smile on his face and your wolfish grin. He knows exactly what you’re thinking.

“Yeah those, they highlight your assets nicely.” You say nonchalantly as you pull some pieces out of your closet, “what do you think, complement or match?”

“Nuh-uh, we are not done here,” Aaron says as he walks towards you.

You slowly back up, falling onto the mattress when the back of your knees hit the bed frame. He leans over you pushing your hands over your head. Slowly his lips move to meet yours, he kisses you leisurely and gently. But the way Aaron’s hand grips your wrist tells you that he’s hungry.

You gently push against his hold, he lets you go, instead choosing to frame your face with his forearms. He lovingly goes to pepper kisses down the column of your neck making you giggle. You turn your head and bring your shoulders up to your ears in an effort to get Aaron to stop.

“Come on we’re going to be late.” You say pushing him away, “Dave said that they’d leave without us if we’re late”

“Don’t worry about that. Dave wouldn’t dare.” He tells you as he tries to go in for a kiss on the lips.

You hold a finger against his lips to stop him from coming closer. He stops his attack on your lips to kiss, instead choosing to press a kiss to your index finger. His antics make you roll your eyes but with the way he gazes at you with complete adoration in his eyes, you can’t stay mad at him for long.

You give him a silly grin before saying, “But he would make a joke about how a quickie is supposed to be quick and you know Emily and Mor- oh!”

Aaron cuts you off by burying his face into your shoulder and laughing. The vibrations tickle your sensitive skin effectively silencing you. His lips forge a path up your neck to your neck, his nose bumping against the sweet spot behind your ear. Your fingers find their way to his hair, curling around his dark locks.

At this point, you don’t even care if you guys are going to be late because the way Aaron is nibbling on your neck trumps any worry about jokes from the rest of the team. You knew from the moment he pulled out that navy shirt you would have a hard time keeping your hands to yourself, but you didn’t think that it would happen so soon.

Throughout all of this Aaron has managed to push you up the bed so you’re leaning against the headboard. His hands are on your hips and he sits on top of you straddling your waist. His warm hands make their way up to your waist, his thumbs brushing against your rib cage.

Suddenly he pulls away from you and you groan in frustration. He better have not gotten you all worked up just to deny you.

Instead, he trails a finger up from your stomach, over your chest, and to your now marked up neck. He hums thoughtfully biting his lower lip as he admires your form on the bed.

“I think match, it’ll highlight your bruises.”

As it turns out Rossi did in fact almost leave you behind. The smirks the team gave you when you came running down the dock were only rivaled by the ones they gave you when they saw the badly covered up marks on your neck. Not that you minded, you’ve always liked to show off.

You’re sitting with Penelope under the awning of the yacht, it seems that you two are the only ones who care about not getting skin cancer. The rest of the crew is out enjoying some vitamin D. Aaron and Rossi are sharing a drink, while Morgan, Emily, JJ, and Reid are playing a rowdy game of poker.

Damn you wish you were rich. Then maybe all of your weekends would be like this. Jack would certainly enjoy yacht time. Not to mention that you could see Aaron on nice fitting slacks and preppy country club outfits all the time. What a sight would that be, even if it’s not his normal style Aaron looks good in basically everything.

You lean back in your lounge chair as you chat with Penelope, or rather as you listen to Penelope talk. You love her to bits but she has the tendency to steamroll over a conversation.

You’re not really listening though, you’re too busy looking at Aaron’s ass in those slacks. Man, you really should try to get him to wear them to work more often. Or at least try and get him to forgo the blazer in the office.

He catches you staring and gives you a small smirk. Busted. Unfortunately, Dave sees Aaron’s little smile and turns around to give you a smirk of his own. Double busted.

It’s not really your fault though, how can you not keep your eyes off of your very very sexy husband? He has his sleeves are rolled up showing off his forearms and you can see his muscles flex as he crosses his arms.

Aaron catches your gaze again, this time giving you a look that makes you squirm in your seat and wonder if it would be entirely appropriate to drag him into one of the guest rooms and take him right then and there.

Surely Dave wouldn’t mind, he’s been eyeing the poker game for a while now and Penny can totally join too, she'd definitely have fun. It’s not like you have anything to lose, sure you’ll probably get teased by the team later but it’s not even that big of a deal if you get to see Aaron out of those khakis.

You’re pulled from your thoughts by a smack on your arm. You glance over to see Penelope gaping in disbelief, “You are so not listening to me! I’m trying to tell you a story so good it’ll blow your mind and you’re making bedroom eyes with Hotch.”

“Pen, I’m sorry, but can you blame me?” You ask her.

“No I can’t you know how I feel about my Chocolate Adonis,” she says, “But I am telling you the story of how I managed to get Reid to wear that magnificent nautical-themed striped sweater, so you better listen up.”

You sneak one last look at Aaron, before turning your attention back to Penelope. She’s talking animatedly, waving her hands around to emphasize her point. You smile and nod along at all the right points but your mind is still on Aaron and how delicious he looks today.

Later. You tell yourself. You’ll get into his pants later. After all, what’s the point if there’s no chase?

It seems that the later it gets the more out of control the team gets. The sun is just setting and drinks have been flowing ever since you guys got on the yacht so you know you’re in for a wild night.

All of you have joined the poker game now and are losing handily to Reid and his Vegas/MIT magic. Sometimes you can’t tell if he’s really that good or just stacking the deck. The team hates it, Morgan especially he always loses big.

“Royal flush,” Spencer says smugly as he lays his cards on the table.

“No, no,” Derek says, “Nuh-uh you cheated.”

“I did not!” Spencer argues, “poker is inherently mathematical, I can easily calculate the among of hand combination at any given time you simply have to-”

“Nuh-uh, if it would get you banned in Vegas it's cheating,” Derek tells him.

“I’ll have you know that I have done this multiple times and have not been banned, so tell me Derek Morgan are you calling me a cheater?”

Spencer is practically fuming, he curls his fingers into a fist accidentally bending the cards in his hands. His jaw is set and he stares down Morgan definitely with a raised eyebrow.

“Ya know what? Yeah, yeah I am, Spencer Reid you are a cheater.” Derek says as he slams his hand on the table.

You all hold your breath as you watch the scene unfold in front of you. Neither of them is actually going to full-on fight each other but that doesn’t stop the team from trying to provoke them.

“Fight, fight, fight” Emily cries, jumping to her feet.

You follow suit, clapping your hands together, “yeah come on Reid don’t just sit there and take it.”

You feel Aaron’s warm arms grab you around the wait and bring back to sitting. He plants you down firmly back on your chair giving you a squeeze. It’s tight enough for you to know that a play fight between Reid and Morgan is the last thing that he wants, but not tight enough to actually hurt.

You turn around to give him a guilty smile but the damage is already done. Morgan has already started taking wide swings at Reid with Emily and JJ are both goading them on.

Spencer steps back to avoid Morgan’s hands, his feet dangerously close to the edge.

“Derek if you step any closer you’re gonna push Reid into the water,” Hotch warns.

Neither of them listens to Aaron’s warning. Instead, Morgan makes another playful jab at Reid who just barely manages to dodge it.

You guys cheer as Reid begins to fight back, making small jabs of his own. He’s terribly uncoordinated though, nearly tripping over himself as he lunges towards Morgan.

Derek shakes his head in amusement “You're gonna have to do better than that Pretty Boy.”

He shifts on his feet reading himself to take another swing at Spencer. Reid copies Morgan’s stance pressing his feet against the deck of the yacht. The two of them standoff, circling each other. They’ve managed to move away from the edge of the yacht, you notice. Hopefully, no one will fall ov-

Splash.

It seems you spoke too soon.

Somehow Morgan had misjudged the distance between him and Spencer and his forward momentum from when lunged at Spence carried him overboard.

You all peer over the edge of the yacht wondering you should get the life preserver ring out. But Morgan surfaces, sitting water out from his mouth.

“Hotch did you see that?” Morgan yells clinging to the side of the boat, “he totally pushed me.”

Aaron sighs and rests his head against your shoulder in dismay.

“I did not! You fell over on your own.” Spencer exclaims as he throws his hands up in frustration.

“No, you totally pushed him,” Emily argues.

Reid throws his hands up in frustration “JJ, back me up here,” he says gesturing to her.

JJ backs away shaking her head, “Don’t bring me into this.”

“Don’t bring you into this?” Morgan says indignantly, as he hauls himself out of the water, “as if you weren’t just goading us on a moment ago. Plus the only side you are going to be taking is mine ‘cause Pretty Boy definitely pushed me in.”

The four of them break into a full-on argument while the rest of you watch on in amusement. Or well, while you, Dave, and Penelope watch on in asumsent. If the anxious tapping of your Aaron’s fingers on your waist is any indication, he is not too pleased with the arguing.

As the argument crescendos, you feel Aaron’s arm leave your waist as he stands up from his chair abruptly.

“All of you, grounded.” He says

Rossi gets up and heads into the interior of the yacht, “And I think that our cue to turn the boat around.”

The rest of the team follows Dave inside but Aaron still lingers on the outside deck.

The sun has fully set and the stars are shining overhead. The rising moon is giving Aaron’s hair a soft silver glow as he gazes out towards the water. The lights of the yacht reflect off the sea smoothing his features out and making him look younger.

He really does look good today and you can’t help to wonder now is the perfect time to drag him off to one of the yacht’s bedrooms.

Sneaking up behind him you wrap your arms around him, pinning his arms to his body. You rest your chin against his body and squeeze as he turns to give you a soft smile.

“What’s on your mind handsome?” You ask as you give his bicep a small kiss.

“Nothing.” He tells you, giving you a gentle kiss.

It’s only gentle in the fact that his lips are soft as they move against yours. You know that the pleasure and desire that flows through your veins is matched in his.

He breaks free from your grasp and moves his hands to cup your face. With his slow but deliberate movements, it's like he’s trying to brand you in the most time-consuming way possible.

Breathless you break away and move to bump your nose against his “Are you sure Hotchner?” you mumble as you cradle his face in your hands.

“Well you know I hate it when the team gets like this.” He murmurs as he leans in for another kiss.

You hum in disbelief, “Nuh-uh I don’t buy it, they couldn’t have gotten you that worked up.”

You move to wrap your arms around his waist. Aaron brings his hands to rest on your hips laughing as you tuck your hands in the back pockets of his slacks.

“Can’t get anything past you can I?” He asks, his voice rife with mirth, “I saw you eyeing me up earlier, got me a little worked up.”

You bite your lip and give him a teasing smile as you lean up to brush your lips against the shell of his ear.

“Well, we’ve got a little bit until we get back to shore…” you say as you bring your hips flush to his, “why don’t we make good uses of one of the guest rooms?”

The hungry look in his eyes tells you all you need to know.

Tags (lmk if you want to be added!): @winterscaptain @yes-sir-hotchner @mrs-joel-pimentel-23-25 @crying-river @genevievedarcygranger @ange-must-die @ogmilkis @saintd0lce @agenthotchner @dr-reid-ismyspiritanimal @toasteddragoness @misskirkstark @rousethemouse @good-heavens-chris-evans @arganfics

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner #reader #x reader #the bau team #Criminal Minds #Criminal Minds Fanfiction #criminal minds x reader #david rossi #Penelope Garcia #spencer reid #derek morgan #Jennifer Jareau #emily prentiss

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astralaffairs · 4 years

Text

freedom of the press 06 | t. jefferson

title: freedom of the press 06

pairing: thomas jefferson x reader

words: 15k

warnings: implied sex, suggestive jokes & teasing, thomas has astoundingly shitty timing, lafayette is a huge fucking cockblock, hella fanservice, v v v tender quality time, and then some more implied sex

desc: the 2020 republican presidential frontrunner is an obnoxious, morally bankrupt people-pleaser, but what happens when you become the person he’s most eager to please?

tags: @stargazelaurens @ivory-haired-queens @exoticxchicken8 @assbuttstyles777 @superbarriobrothers @distinguishedpotsticker @fukaaaaaaaa @hereforthepsyche-assessment @ivetoldamillionlies @fangirl570 @thealaddinkid @lasciviouspeach @snazzydoesthings @shy-and-awkward-daveed @rachelhermionerose @soft-weeb-s @gryffinclxw @anamrnk @daveeddiggsit @ayayayayana @marinovakovich @cryinghazelnutt @thefandomgirl03 @a-hopeless-fan @cloudywlw @tinywhim @lolidunnoaboutnow @siriusorionblackiii @fanfic-addict-98— hope i didnt miss anyone; lmk if you want to be added!!

By the time Y/N woke up, the sun was hardly up, the streets were plowed, and the bed was warm. She didn't try to leave it, instead curling further into Thomas's warm embrace when he pulled her close. Huddled alongside him, his skin against hers, she didn't bother to fight the fatigue that still ebbed at her mind, instead letting herself drift peacefully in and out of consciousness. She could feel Thomas's quiet laugh rumble in his chest when she made no move to get up. She didn't process it enough to react when his lips brushed against the crown of her head.

By the next time she woke up, the sun was high in the sky over Washington D.C., the streets were still plowed, but the bed was cold.

She frowned as she pushed herself to sit up, leaning back on a hand as she rubbed her bleary eyes. He'd left without saying a word.

She knew as she peeled the covers off herself, still damp in places with sweat from the previous night, that she shouldn't have expected him to stay.

Why would he have? He was a busy person; it was already... Shit, how had it already reached 2 PM?

She slouched into the bathroom, feeling like a wreck as she wiped the smeared mascara from her face, tied up her wreckage of sleep hair. She couldn't bring herself to take off his undershirt she'd donned the previous night, too cold to sleep in nothing but too exhausted to find some real clothing. (He'd laughed at her for it, but all the same, he didn't give much resistance before offering up his shirt.)

Regardless, they'd done nothing more than sleep together. He had no commitment to hang around any longer. If she were him, she probably wouldn't have stayed either. Still, it would've been nice for him to have said goodbye.

She tried to blink the sleep from her vision as she padded to her kitchen on bare feet; she would force herself to eat something before getting dressed and having to go down to another shift at the diner that evening.

Dry cereal might not have been the pinnacle of health for her just then, but it was easy, and she was in no mood to fight her cravings. When she pulled down a bowl, though, a flash of purple in the corner of her vision gave her pause.

She closed the cabinet absentmindedly as she turned, eyeing the post-it note dubiously from a distance, glancing around her apartment to confirm she was alone. (There hadn't been much question about the matter, but she couldn't be too careful.)

It was a moment later still when she approached it, stifling a yawn, and plucked it from where it'd been stuck onto the countertop.

Death, so called, is a thing which makes men weep, And yet a third of life is passed in sleep.

Y/N raised an exasperated eyebrow at the scrawled note despite the smile she fought back. The handwriting wasn't hard to recognize; not after she'd run her fingers over matching pen marks through a few hundred pages of Byron poetry -- not to mention the fact that there had only been two people in her apartment all night, and she certainly didn't remember writing that.

She shook her head lightly as she went to recycle it, but that time, it was the writing on the back of the paper that made her freeze.

For the next time you need some ancient literature, or for the next time you lock me out in the cold.

(202) 863-4828

Perhaps it wasn't such a gloomy afternoon after all.

------

Unknown Number: [Attachment: 1 image]

Unknown Number: nerd

Thomas grinned down at his phone where it was tucked halfway into his pocket. He'd been in meetings since noon, but after the night he'd had, he was struggling to focus on fundraising numbers and campaign strategy, most of it going in one ear and out the other as he waited restlessly for his phone to buzz. He'd begun to think by then that she wasn't going to reach out.

thomas 🙄: kinda harsh to say that abt someone who's been dead for 200 years

Y/N 🍑👀: ah yes because i was definitely referring to byron

Y/N 🍑👀: not the person who carries around purple sticky notes just to paste byron quotes in people's kitchens

thomas 🙄: you insulting my stationery?

Y/N 🍑👀: just your taste in literary quotes

thomas 🙄: don't be mad just cause i'm right

thomas 🙄: it didn't even wake you up when i left in the morning

thomas 🙄: at that rate you were gonna spend a lot more than a third of your life asleep

Y/N 🍑👀: wouldn't have still been asleep if you hadn't had me up past 4 am

thomas 🙄: is that really a complaint, now?

Y/N 🍑👀: uh??? yes, it is????? i have to deep clean my sheets and my mattress now smh

thomas 🙄: as though it wasn't worth it ;)

Y/N 🍑👀: wasn't worth the cost of the five gallons of bleach i'm gonna need to get the smell out

thomas 🙄: don't even pretend

thomas 🙄: you didn't seem to have any problem last night when i started ruining your sheets

thomas 🙄: you really gonna act like you don't want me to ruin them again?

Y/N could almost hear his voice in the messages, could picture his self-satisfied smile, and she could feel the heat rising in her cheeks as she read and re-read the text.

Y/N 🍑👀: you're paying my laundry bill

thomas 🙄: worth it to me

Y/N 🍑👀: or maybe we'll just have to ruin your sheets next time

Thomas inhaled sharply; his eyebrows shot up. Next time. He wouldn't have thought that just two words could turn him on quite that much.

"Thomas?" His head snapped up, his eyes wide; he'd somehow managed to forget entirely where he was in the few minutes since Y/N had texted him. Thankfully, it was only James who seemed to have noticed.

"Hmm?" He blinked, staring up at James's expectant stare. His gaze flickered across the conference room, and while James was clearly on the border of annoyance, everyone else looked to him curiously. "'M sorry, James, I spaced out for a second thinking about... your proposal for the fundraiser?"

That was the last thing he remembered hearing, and James didn't look impressed. "Right," he said dryly. "Anyway, I was asking how you felt about doing another town hall in D.C."

"Yeah, alright." He nodded, hardly processing the words, and James cocked a brow.

"Really?" He folded his arms. "I'm surprised you're giving in that easily. Last I remembered, you wanted to move your next few town halls up further north."

Thomas shrugged. His palms were sweating as all eyes turned to him for an answer after he'd spent the past ten minutes thinking about something very different from his supporters. "You make a good case for it."

(The fact that he hadn't caught a minute of the advocacy was irrelevant.)

James hadn't bought a word of it, and Thomas could tell from a single glance at him. He made a mental note not to pick someone who could see right through him as a running mate next time.

However, he fabricated a smile, much to Thomas's relief, having no desire to confront him right there or then. "I'm glad. I had a couple venues scouted out, but I'm open to any more suggestions."

"I think we need a new type of place. The same locations again and again get monotonous." Thomas struggled to resist rolling his eyes; he had to remind himself he'd only hired Charles Lee because he was donating more than twice his salary to the campaign.

"So what do you suggest?" He met his eyes skeptically from the other end of the table.

"What about a café?"

"A café?" Another of his campaign staffers who he couldn't identify by name spoke up -- Noah? Nate? Nathaniel? Thomas couldn't help but agree with his incredulity.

"It would be good for you to actually get to know your voters instead of... preaching to them from on high." As Lee continued, his voice close to a sneer, Thomas had to force himself to control his expression. "It would be much more personal for you to finally sit down and meet them."

"I'm runnin' a campaign, not speed-datin' the voters." Out of the corner of his eye, Thomas saw James purse his lips to repress a laugh.

"It's actually an excellent idea." Really, now? He glanced disbelievingly at the woman to his left. "The most common criticism you receive is about thinking yourself above your voting base. It'd be a good chance to lose some of your aristocratic reputation."

Hurtful, but not inaccurate. Thomas nodded, though he knew the skepticism was still clear in his gaze.

"If we do go through with this, where in the city do you propose we hold it?" James didn't seem to appreciate his fundraising proposal being derailed into a meet-and-greet, and by Charles Lee of all people. Thomas was right there with him, his annoyance only compounding when Lee shrugged unhelpfully.

"It's the Jefferson campaign, not the Lee campaign." Charles did make a good point with that. Thomas only wished he'd have thought of it before he decided to wedge his opinion into James's plan like a Republican jigsaw puzzle.

The question gave him pause, however. Were he to be perfectly honest, he didn't know more than five restaurants in the city by name, four of which wouldn't exactly earn him any points as a 'man of the people.' The last, however...

It was probably a poor idea; he'd known that even before he considered it. But it did seem to fit what they were looking for. It was in a low-income neighborhood, run by a family of immigrants. It had a bright atmosphere and an abundance of seating. However, the most tempting part to him wasn't how it'd look to the voters, but being able to see one person's expression when she learned he'd rented the place out for an entire evening.

It might've been a poor idea, but he had to put his campaign first, and the benefits were more than defensible.

He grinned. "Think I got a place in mind."

------

Y/N spent the next few days overthinking the fact that Thomas had left her last text on read. God, why'd she have to go and put the idea of a 'next time' out there? She was sure he didn't want commitment any more than she did, so she must have scared him off.

She hated how tumultuous the past Friday night had left her emotions.

Thankfully, when she arrived at work the following Monday, it didn't take too long for the distractions to come pouring in.

"Y/N!" Her head snapped upwards, her eyes wide as she saw Ashley marching into her office. She wore a smile, but her eyes were narrowed, and Y/N couldn't help the sense of dread building in her stomach.

"Ashley." Her response was wary.

"So your article got a decent bit of attention last Thursday." The words were nice enough, but they were altogether devoid of energy.

"... Thanks?"

"No, that's definitely a good thing; take the compliment." As Ashley circled around to take a seat on the edge of Y/N's desk, however, she tensed in her office chair, trying not to noticeably grip the armrests. "But a lot of it was controversial attention."

"How?" she asked, taken aback. Her brow was furrowed; it was likely the most unbiased article she'd written about the election.

"A lot of our readers seem to think you're siding with the Jefferson campaign toward the end of it." So this was why Ashley had entered looking so skeptical, and Y/N was sure her disbelief was written plainly across her face.

"Seriously? Because I mentioned that they're turning away funding from super PACs, you mean?" Ashley nodded, and Y/N let out a huff of incredulous laughter.

"You don't need to hold back on your critiques, alright? You can go after whatever information you uncover." She either didn't notice the annoyance growing in Y/N's eyes, or she didn't seem to care. "Don't be afraid to use what you uncover."

"And if what I uncover is entirely unrelated to the election?"

"Nothing is unrelated to the election, Y/N. That's exactly what you don't get." Something akin to excitement flashed in Ashley's gaze as she leaned forward toward Y/N, but the hint of vindictiveness gave her pause. "For you, the people are readers, not voters. You're not the one in an election."

Though she shifted further away in her rolling chair, Y/N said, "I'll keep it in mind, but for the time being, it's all been pretty mundane. Haven't found any skeletons in his closet."

"Then make some."

A beat passed; Y/N could only stare up at her boss in disbelief. "Excuse me?"

She rolled her eyes when Y/N didn't seem to be on the same page, which only elicited more worry. "You, as a writer, have grown to national visibility. You have the power to sensationalize things if you want to keep people hanging onto your every word."

"I'll keep it in mind, thanks." Ashley narrowed her eyes further at the bite behind Y/N's words.

"I'm serious. If you want to go further as a reporter, you can't just state facts. You need a narrative. There's a reason no one watches C-SPAN."

"Pretty sure I can spin a narrative on the election without stooping to the level of a gossip column." With Y/N's hard stare, Ashley seemed to realize she wasn't getting any further with the conversation, and after eyeing Y/N for another moment, she sighed heavily.

"You'd better show me a good narrative." Y/N had begun to tune her out as she pushed herself off of her desk, instead turning back to the article she'd been drafting. "I trust your judgment as a writer, so I'll let you take this however you want it. But people want to know who they're reading about."

"I have a feeling everyone knows who Thomas Jefferson is by now," Y/N responded dryly.

"I mean know him, know him." That elicited a raised eyebrow. "He's a person, not just a candidate. That's what America wants to see."

Y/N couldn't help the strange sense of pride that curled in her chest, tried instead to suppress it alongside the inexplicably conceited mantra Ashley's words elicited: she knew Thomas Jefferson in a way America never would.

When Ashley raised her eyebrows, Y/N realized she'd let the silence stretch on a moment too long. She swallowed her thoughts. "So you want me to air his dirty laundry?"

Y/N's eyes widened at the grin that broke through Ashley's unimpressed demeanor.

"Finally, she gets it." With that, Ashley turned to go, ignoring how dumbfounded she'd left Y/N. She glanced back with a well-pleased smile.

"If you need dirt, never be afraid to dig up whatever it is he's left buried."

-----

Unfortunately for Y/N, the distraction that was her boss's scarily cutthroat mentality only weaved itself into her racing thoughts about her most recent encounter with everyone's favorite Republican frontrunner. The next few evenings at the diner were slow, which she couldn't necessarily complain about -- being rushed and nagged by half of downtown D.C. over the course of a week wasn't quite her paradise. However, it only gave her time to spiral under the weight of everything she'd learned.

To her conflicted relief, coming in earlier in the afternoon on Wednesday provided a welcome diversion. It would've been her afternoon to herself after leaving her office at the Post, but when one of their baristas called in sick, the money for an extra two hours was too tempting for Y/N to turn down.

Despite her early shift, it wasn't until around 7:30 that her evening hit a bump in the road.

"Prosciutto roll for Belle?" she called out as she reached the end of the counter, putting the tray with the finished order and the receipt on the end of the counter. She pulled a paper cup out of the stack by the divider for the drink that was ordered. She was about to dash back to the kitchen after checking over the food, when--

"Excuse me."

She was sick of overly-familiar voices interrupting her workday. She froze on the balls of her feet where she'd begun to retreat, before turning with forced positivity permeating her demeanor. Couldn't her two jobs stay separate, at least most of the time?

"James! Hey. Congrats on the Super Tuesday win." His surprised smile put her at ease as she reached where he stood.

"Oh... Y/N. Thank you," he said, tone hesitant, his eyebrows shooting toward his hairline. "I didn't know you worked here." She only shrugged.

"I just started two weeks ago. Not surprised you haven't noticed me around."

"No, I don't mean..." She raised an eyebrow when he trailed off, before he chucked to himself, pinching the bridge of his nose. "This is my first time coming here. You being an employee just... explains a few things, is all."

"Glad to provide some clarity... ?" With any context, his insinuation would've been painfully obvious; however, completely ignorant of the previous Saturday's meeting, Y/N was absolutely oblivious. She pursed her lips.

"You have my gratitude for it." James's knowing smile explained nothing for her, however.

"Right." She glanced at the growing line over at the cash register, anxious to keep the flow of customers going smoothly as the place filled up. "Anyway, what can I do for you? If you're here for dinner, line starts that way."

She nodded to the other end of the counter, but he shook his head.

"I'm not looking for food, actually."

Y/N cocked an eyebrow. "I hate to have to be the one to tell you this, but I'm starting to think you're in the wrong place."

"No, no..." He plucked a takeout menu from the stand toward the end of the counter and nodded, eyeing the diner's logo. "I'm where I'm supposed to be."

"You're sure?" Her skepticism was still blatant.

"I'm sure." He glanced up from the menu with a smile. "May I speak to your manager, just briefly?"

That was when she paled. Eyeing his nonchalant expression, she prayed none of her assumptions about his motives could possibly be true, especially as they grew stranger and stranger. Her new spiraling was beginning to tie back to her previous spiraling -- could James have found out about the past Friday? Would Thomas have possibly told him? Why would that mean he showed up at her family's diner to talk to her manager about it? Could he have been trying to--

"Why do you look so nervous?" Her alarm only seemed to amuse James, and she huffed, leaning against the counter.

"James. You're a politician who showed up at my place of work, rejected food, and requested to speak to my manager." She looked up at him with a flat gaze, and he only chuckled, shrugging in acquiescence. "There isn't some new health code no one told us about, is there?"

"Not this time. Check back in a week, though." She rolled her eyes. "In all seriousness, may I speak to whoever's in charge? I assure you I'm not here to shut down your café."

Y/N allowed herself a small smile. "How generous of you. Give me a second."

He nodded as she turned away, laughing when she took only three steps before aggressively yelling "Orlando!" in the direction of the kitchen.

The man in question emerged with his brow furrowed, wiping his hands on a dishtowel with his brows furrowed. "What's wrong, mija?"

"Nothing yet." She glanced between him and James, her stare inquisitive. "Someone wants to speak to you about the diner real quick."

"You get us into trouble again?" Orlando raised a playful eyebrow, and Y/N couldn't help her wry smile as she rolled her eyes, batting at his arm.

"No, Orlando," she huffed.

Her contrived annoyance hardly buried her amusement before James decided to pipe up. "'Again'?"

She turned to James with a playful glare, and he grinned. "You stay outta this." She pointed a reprimanding finger at him, but he didn't appear at all fazed. "Gonna get me fired before you have a chance to shut us down, at this rate."

"You got us shut down?" Orlando gasped, but when Y/N saw the mirth behind his playful shock, she groaned.

"No, Orlando." James's and Orlando's grins mirrored one another as she looked between them, exhaustion settling into her tone. "I need you two to take each other off my hands, now. I have drinks to make."

"Of course, Y/N." James wasn't too hurt by the final glare she sent him before turning away.

As she fell back into her rhythm fulfilling orders, Y/N couldn't help but keep an eye on the two men, especially not when Orlando emerged from behind the counter to talk to James, trying to stay out of her way but also moving just out of her earshot. She knew the glances she kept sneaking toward them weren't as subtle as they should've been; she knew Orlando could see her watching them. As James continued on, Orlando's entire demeanor went from skeptical to welcoming, his body language opening up in turn. (Y/N tried briefly to read their lips, but something gave her the feeling that 'sent out the minors' wasn't quite true to their conversation.)

She had to force herself to turn her focus back to the customers as the unfinished drink orders began to pile up, her eyes widening when she caught sight of the mounting line of cups to her right with names and orders, but with a distinct lack of coffee. A few more minutes passed as she struggled to keep up, finally holding pace with the ever-growing demand when Orlando shook James's hand, passed off a business card before the two parted ways.

At the risk of making just a few customers lose their heads, Y/N followed Orlando into the kitchen, her curiosity overriding her work ethic.

"Hey, what was that about?" She caught him just as he was tying his apron back on. How pleased he looked had her skeptical.

"Oh, nothing very big. Don't worry." He withdrew his plastic gloves from the front pocket, pulling them on with a shrug. "He asked me about renting out the diner for a night for an event with Thomas Jefferson's campaign."

That stopped Y/N cold. "He did?"

"Mhm." He nodded, and he didn't seem to notice how stunned Y/N had suddenly begun to look. "I told him yes. I didn't think Mira would be thrilled if I turned it down. He offered us a lot of money for it."

"Oh, did he now?" She let out a shaky exhale, glancing back at the front of the diner to see James just exiting through the glass doors. "And did he say why he wanted to do it here, of all places?"

Orlando shrugged. "I didn't ask."

Why wouldn't that be your first question? Despite her moderate angst, Y/N tried not to let her frustration show. "Is Mira around? I need to talk to her."

"Aren't you in the middle of a shift?" He gave her a pointed look, and it elicited a dramatic, drawn-out groan from Y/N.

"Orlando," she whined, folding her arms. He gave her a mocking pout.

"Y/N." She rolled her eyes. "You're losing us valuable customers and valuable time as the line gets longer. Go back to making drinks."

Despite her scowl, she nodded. "After I close tonight, you're gonna get a piece of my mind."

------

As it turned out, it wasn't Orlando who was given a piece of her mind that evening.

2 New Messages, 10:38 PM

Thomas raised an eyebrow as his phone vibrated. He sat at his own dining room table, the sound coming from just inches to the left of where he was working on his laptop. Who would be contacting him that late?

Y/N 🍑👀: tell me it wasn't you who came up with the idea of renting out mira and orlando's diner on the only night when i work all evening

Y/N 🍑👀: please for your sake blame james

He grinned. The draft reports of the campaign's funding allocation he'd been typing up could wait just a few minutes.

thomas 🙄: i feel like you're just tryna get me to lie so you can slander me in the papers for it

Y/N 🍑👀: thomas i stg

Y/N 🍑👀: are you just planning your campaign around what's gonna annoy me most????

thomas 🙄: that's a heavy accusation, i would never

thomas 🙄: just wanna make sure you don't get too lonely without me

Y/N's scowl held no real anger as she read the texts.

Y/N 🍑👀: oh of course

Y/N 🍑👀: if this is your way of trying to get laid again, it's a flawed strategy

thomas 🙄: what happened to ruining my sheets "next time"? :)

Y/N 🍑👀: you still owe me for all the bleach i had to buy

thomas 🙄: don't avoid the question

Y/N 🍑👀: don't avoid the cleaning bill

thomas 🙄: if you're still tryna ruin MY sheets next time, it won't be your problem

Y/N 🍑👀 is typing...

Thomas rolled his eyes when the typing bubble disappeared and he didn't receive another text. Y/N, on the other hand, was biting her lip, her fingers hesitant on her keyboard as she read his text to herself. Her heart rate was picking up as flashes of the past Friday played in her mind.

thomas 🙄: did you really just stop typing on me??

Y/N 🍑👀: can we return to my actual question???? why the fuck did you decide to rent out the diner for your campaign?????

thomas 🙄: wasn't my idea to hold a meet and greet at a restaurant

Y/N 🍑👀: there are literally hundreds of restaurants in dc tho

thomas 🙄: and??

Y/N 🍑👀: and you just happened to rent out the diner i work at during the entirety of my shift???

thomas 🙄: pretty sure i mentioned a while back that i was gonna learn your schedule

Y/N 🍑👀: i'm not sure how good it's gonna look for your campaign when i file a restraining order against you

thomas 🙄: you mean you don't miss me? :(

Y/N 🍑👀: oh c'mon you're just asking for it now

Y/N 🍑👀: you almost make it too easy to mock you

thomas 🙄: i'm so hurt

Y/N 🍑👀: already?? i haven't even started mocking you yet

thomas 🙄: we'll see who's mocking who when you're stuck with my campaign for five hours this friday

Y/N 🍑👀: five hours??????

thomas 🙄: don't get too excited now

Y/N 🍑👀: fuck you

thomas 🙄: only after you get around to changing your sheets

✔ Read, 11:03 PM

------

Try as she might, Y/N failed to find a way out of her evening shift the following Saturday. She pleaded with her co-workers (no one else was available); she faked sick (Jac marched up to her apartment just to call her out); she was about ready to find a fake ID and leave the country when a better idea occurred to her.

Mailto: [email protected]

Hi Mr. Adams--

(No, too informal.)

Vice President Adams:

(.... Passable.)

I hope this email finds you well. This is Y/N L/N of the Washington Post, to whom you gave your email address a number of weeks ago at President Washington's gala.

(She prayed she was using 'whom' correctly.)

As you know, I've been assigned to cover the Jefferson campaign up until this November's election, and I'm reaching out for any timely information you would be willing to share on the current relationship between Secretary Jefferson and yourself, as the projected Democratic nominee. I was hoping to find out--

(What was she hoping to find out? Her mind was still attached to Ashley's most recent ominous wisdom -- don't be afraid to dig up what he's left buried. But how could she ask the vice president for dirt without erring on the wrong side of collusion?

Backspace just a little.)

I was hoping to give my readers a somewhat more personal perspective on Jefferson's time holding office as Secretary of State. Is there any chance you'd be available for an interview? Please let me know; I look forward to hearing from you.

Regards,

(Was regards too stiff? Backspace.)

Best regards,

Y/N L/N

She'd been hesitant to actually use the email address he'd given her; she bit her lip as she pressed send. She might not have been able to find a way out of five hours of the diner being full of nothing but Jefferson supporters, but if Ashley was looking for dirt, eavesdropping and an opposing perspective could go far for her. Despite her writing prospects, she spent the entirety of her Saturday dreading its end.

James was the first to show up. The diner was cleared of its usual patrons, but that night, it'd be operating at capacity.

"So should I assume your presence means this whole 'meet-and-greet' wasn't an elaborate hoax just to deepen my frown lines?" Y/N was looking up at him with somber resignation as he entered the diner wearing a wide smile.

"Your input and documentation are valuable to this campaign, Y/N. We would never target you like that." She rolled her eyes as she pushed herself off the counter, despite how amused James appeared. "In other words, you have a long evening ahead of you."

"Y'know, I'm firmly convinced you're just trying to make my life Hell until I stop covering the election," she accused him, and he laughed.

"Have a little faith. I wasn't even made aware that you work here."

"Yeah, you weren't."

"What are you implying, exactly?"

"Take a shot in the dark." She glared at him, but it had no real anger in it. "Now, I'm not sure why Thomas is so fixated on antagonizing me, but you'd better tell him--"

"James, hey, you ready to get set up?" It was at that moment the front door of the diner flew open, and it was only a moment of silence that passed before Thomas looked up from whatever he was so absorbed in on his phone, and when he caught sight of Y/N's exasperated expression, a grin split his face. "Y/N? You workin' here, now?"

"Don't even start."

"Aw, c'mon, what d'you possibly mean by that?" His hands were stuffed in his pockets; he wore a shit-eating grin, and Y/N just scowled.

"I have too many hours left in my shift to deal with you two this early." She pointed an accusing finger between the two of them as she threw down her dishrag. "I'm getting Mira and Orlando."

"Some hospitality," Thomas pouted as Y/N began to turn, pausing to give him the stink eye, and he failed to mask his entertainment under his feigned offense.

From there, the evening went about as well as she could've hoped. Mira, as expected, was beyond overjoyed to see Thomas, didn't waste even a moment in helping him set up, and when the floodgates opened at 4:30 PM sharp, Y/N's feet were sore even thinking about scurrying back and forth for five hours on the tile floor she'd already spent her morning polishing. (So much for that polish, anyway. It was less than five minutes before layer after layer of bootprints wracked the shining ceramic with an avante-garde collage of brackish slush and sidewalk gunk.)

Demands were ringing in her ears. She struggled to distinguish between her rather lifelike migraine and the surrounding frenzy of voters and journalists alike -- the voices all sounded the same. A disembodied shout requested an extra tub of honey butter, and she tossed one onto the end of the counter without thinking twice. Two dozen hamburgers over the next thirty minutes seemed a small price to pay to no longer be working the cash register.

She'd begun to count how many viruses could fit on the surface of each dollar she collected in tips with a strained smile, retreating back to the kitchen to wash her hands every time she stuck one into the pocket of her apron. Considering the crowd, she considered herself lucky she was making tips at all.

The money was an undeniable result of the wandering eyes of a number of middle-aged men in the crowd, being to various degrees of seedy -- her skinny jeans seemed to be a hit. Though he wasn't one among the crowd stuffing wadded bills into her hand with a sleazy grin every time she came around to bus tables, there was one man whose wandering gaze she kept meeting. (He'd rather have provided a much different type of gratuity, and she suspected that went beyond subsidizing her trip to the laundromat to wash her bedsheets.)

She had to put it out of her mind every time she caught and subsequently broke his stare. The wolfish smile he watched her with had her feeling more vulnerable than she'd have liked; every time she noticed it, she couldn't help but pale and duck away like a mouse dodging a trap (no matter how tempting the bait might've been). Not to mention it was distracting her from her job. She shook the thought from where it weighed down on her shoulders, instead scurrying back to the register to deal with the line.

"Alright, what can I get you?" The words were breathless as she rushed to the counter, having just made seven lattes in the span of approximately five minutes and ferried forty kilograms of dirty dishes back to the kitchen -- she wasn't looking forward to washing them at the end of the night. Her tired eyes snapped open when she realized who stood before her. "Lafayette! How long have you been here?"

"Standing in line, or in ze restaurant?" His smile was just on the right side of jeering, and she rolled her eyes.

"I didn't take that long to get here; I don't wanna hear it."

"Of course not, chérie." He eyed the menu posted above her as he spoke. "I arrived 'ere nearly two hours ago, but I 'ave only just now come to get food."

"Been avoiding me?" she teased.

"Can you blame me?" Her scowl was all but involuntary at how self-satisfied he looked, choosing to avoid her annoyed gaze. "Any recommendations from ze menu?"

"Whatever's most expensive." He raised a skeptical eyebrow, and she shrugged, holding her hands up defensively. "What? Like you can't afford the New England stuffed lobster?"

He pursed his lips as he looked back down at her, but his eyes were all smug amusement. "Fine. I will 'ave zat and ze agave lemonade."

"My paycheck appreciates it," she said. "That all?"

"Zat will be all for me." The devious smile he wore as he leaned in a fraction of an inch had her on edge. "But with 'ow he 'as been ogling you all night, I daresay Thomas may want something more."

"Lafayette!" she scolded him, stepping back from the counter to glare. "Why has that become the first thing you bring up every time you see me, now? I am at work."

Her seething was in a hushed tone, and he only shrugged, leafing through his wallet with a smug smile. "Remind him of zat, not me."

____________

It was nearing eight o'clock, and Y/N refused to remind herself that she still had more than an hour and a half to go. She'd deigned to wash the dishes by that point, actively avoiding the crowds in the dining room between Thomas's wolfish gaze and Lafayette's knowing smile -- she wasn't sure when her family diner had become a lion's den.

The yellow latex gloves she'd been forced to sport were an occupational hazard, she supposed, as she reached up to return her latest stack of side plates to their rightful place in the cabinet above her. When she turned back to the sink--

"Thomas!" She jumped back, holding the edge of the counter behind her. She hadn't heard him come in.

He raised an entertained eyebrow as she pulled off her thick rubber gloves, throwing them down onto the counter with a thud before reaching over to turn off the water. "What are you doing back here?" she huffed, "You can't be here."

He shrugged, and she could feel her heart rate rising along with the blood to her cheeks. Him cornering her, alone in the kitchen at her part-time job after all the texts they'd exchanged over the past week, had her feeling increasingly vulnerable.

He plastered on a mock pout, folding his arms as he leaned against the side of the counter. "Oh, nice to see you, too, Y/N. I'm great, thanks so much for askin'."

Y/N scowled. "Don't pretend I'm the one out of line, here."

"You aren't happy to see me?" His brow creased as he held a hand to his heart, and though she rolled her eyes, the corners of her lips twitched upward. "You're hurtin' my feelings. Figured it'd be a welcome surprise."

"Oh, of course, based on how thrilled I was to hear you rented the place out for the night?"

He grinned. "Exactly."

She huffed at his audacity, shaking her head.

"Anyway, what d'you want?" she asked as she moved to go back to where she'd been at the sink, shooing him away. However, entirely undeterred, he took a step toward her, and she took one back, nearing the corner of the room. Her eyes were wide.

"Thomas," she said hesitantly, and he took another nonchalant step toward her, slowly backing her against the kitchen wall. Her voice was shaky, her heart pounding in her ears like a warning bell. "What are you doing?"

"Well, sweetheart," he began matter-of-factly, his gaze hawklike. Her breathing stopped for a moment as he closed in on her, one hand landing on the wall beside her head and the other on her waist. His grin broadened. "I seem to remember being promised a 'next time.'"

At that, she couldn't help but let out a surprised laugh, the sound breathy. "Seriously? And you think now is a good time to cash that in? I'm working."

"So am I." He shrugged. "Makes it more fun, doesn't it?"

"No, it absolutely does not!" Her reprimanding was losing its bite, though; his smile was apparently more contagious than anything she was going to pick up from touching the used cutlery of his unsavory voters. He leaned in toward her with a mischievous eyebrow raised. "Thomas."

"Y/N," he echoed mockingly before he dipped down, lips finding the side of her cheekbone, trailing down toward her jaw.

"There's a window in here," she reminded him, despite tilting her head to give him access to her neck. "We're in plain sight."

"Not from this corner." She could feel his grin against the side of her face. "Really think I didn't think this through, sugar?"

She let out a skeptical hum when his mouth reached her collarbone, running her hands up his chest, arching up against him despite herself. "This is a bad ide-- Ah!" She squeaked when he nipped at her skin, and his grip on her hip tightened.

"Whatever you say," he murmured into her neck.

"We're going to get caught." She let out a soft gasp as his hand on her hip traveled south.

"By who? Mira?" He pulled back to look her in the eye, a playful shine to his gaze. "She gonna fire you for stealing the attention of her favorite customer?"

Y/N rolled her eyes, pursing her lips to push back the grin that threatened to break hef stony facade. "No, she's gonna fire me for whatever health code violation this constitutes." She shoved him lightly by the shoulder, but it only prompted him to anchor her to him by the waist.

"I won't tell." The hand that rested against the wall threaded itself into her hair, tipping her head back to look her in the eye. He raised an eyebrow, waiting for any sort of reaction in the affirmative. She bit her lip.

"My kitchen shift ends in less than half an hour." His expression visibly deflated, and she gave a small, sly smile. "So you'd better be quick."

Delighted surprised flashed in his eyes; she squealed when he hitched one of her legs up to his waist, tightening her hold on his shoulders. "Well, I can't turn down a challenge, now, can I?"

With that, he reached over and flicked the sink's faucet back on, the water drumming loudly on the underside of a saucepan. She furrowed her brow. "What are you doing?"

"Drownin' you out."

His lips returned to her neck with increased fervor, and he tugged aside the collar of her shirt, biting softly into her skin. "Fuck you," she moaned, and he laughed.

"Right here, in plain sight?"

She was about to rebuke him, eyes narrowed and mouth ajar, before he began sucking a hickey into the skin of her shoulder, and he felt her whole body relax in his grasp as she let out a groan. "You're unbelievable."

"I do my best." Her eyes began to flutter shut as she lost sight of her initial task, the small tsunami of dishes becoming hardly a wave in the distance. His hands trailed further downward, and she could feel her chest heaving as she dug her nails into the thick material of his suit. She bit down on her lip, trying to remain quiet, desperate not to draw any attention, when the door opposite them flew open.

Y/N squealed, shoving Thomas away from her, but the damage was done when she met the intruder's eye.

"Lafayette?" she asked breathlessly, "What are you doing back here?"

"So it is only a problem when I come into ze kitchen?" He gave Thomas a pointed look, who glanced to Y/N guiltily. She yanked her shirt back over the reddening mark halfway across her shoulder with a huff. "I was only coming to ask where ze bathroom was, but I fear ze two of you may need it more zan I do."

"Out. Both of you." Y/N glared at Lafayette, who looked spectacularly amused by the scene he'd walked in on. Thomas, however, looked nearly as put-out as Y/N. She walked over to pull her rubber gloves back on, turned the water off in the sink. "I need to get back to work."

"It seems you should do ze same," Lafayette commented to Thomas, who straightened his tie, scowling.

"Thanks for the reminder." He brushed past Lafayette on his way to the door before he turned to leave, casting Y/N one more burning gaze that left her palms sweating.

Y/N turned back to the sink and grabbed the next dish from the stack, expecting Lafayette to follow Thomas out, but he only raised his eyebrows, joining her near the sink as she picked up a sponge and returned to scrubbing a spot of yellowish crud from the edge of a plate, grimacing when she realized it was crusted over.

"So," he started, and she looked up at him warily, not abandoning her task. "I take it my hunch as to where you disappeared to at ze fundraiser last week was not misguided?"

She closed her eyes to take a deep breath, pausing for a moment, thoroughly displeased with the hubristic smile he wore. She didn't give him the satisfaction of meeting his eyes. "What d'you want, Lafayette?"

She glanced in his direction as he pulled his lips into a dramatic pout. "Is my company not good enough for you to 'ave here? You hurt me, chérie."

"Right. No agenda there," she said dryly, and he shrugged, unable to contain his self-satisfaction.

"So, 'ow long have you and Thomas been carrying on in secret?"

After the momentary pause the bluntness of his question gave her, she rolled her eyes. He came around to the drying rack on her other side, apparently ignoring her peeved sarcasm. "We aren't."

"Non? Then what, exactly, did I just walk in on?"

"Give it your wildest guess." As she turned to add a plate to the stack, she watched Lafayette hoist himself up onto the counter to her left. He gave her a sly look.

"Why did you not tell me about your little liaison? It is not like it was difficult to figure out."

"'Liaison'," she snorted. "Is there anything you don't know how to make sound pretentious?"

"Do not avoid the matter at hand."

She could feel her cheeks beginning to heat as she turned the faucet back on, and it wasn't just the steam coming from the scalding water. "It's not like that, Lafayette. Seriously."

"'Ow far 'ave you two gone?"

"Lafayette!" She turned with that to glare at him, his nonchalance about her embarrassment only compounding upon it.

"What? Do you really not want someone to confide in?" She paused at his words, though her scowl didn't relax, and he took that as an invitation to continue. "I can only assume you 'ave not been 'aving zis conversation with Alexander. I can picture quite clearly how 'e would react."

She let out a huff of bitter laughter as she returned to the dishes. "Can't argue with that one. He thinks the hickey I came back from Detroit with was from you."

"Non!" His eyes shone with mischief, despite his contrived incredulity. "I am your cover story?"

"It's his theory; I didn't even give him the idea." She added another plate to her pile. "Though, a lot of my friends seem to think you're a whore, now."

"Mm, and why should I not go and tell them ze reality of ze situation?"

"Don't you dare!" she said. "What do you stand to gain from that?"

"Protecting my reputation, apparently," he said mildly. "Or, you could simply tell me what 'as been going on."

"Are you blackmailing me for gossip?"

"Think of it as an exchange."

She scoffed, turning her head to look at him. "You really are shameless, huh?" He shrugged, folding his arms as he turned to look at her expectantly, his knee bumping her pile of silverware. She sighed. "Fine. We screwed. You happy?"

"Delighted." He wore a small smile as he shifted her dishes out of his way. "'Ow many times? Only once? When was zis?"

"Lafayette!"

"What?" he asked innocently, but the exhaustion written across her face made him laugh. "Come on, Y/N; we are friends, non?"

"Seems like I'm stuck with you, so sure."

"Zen why do you not feel like you can speak freely with me?"

When she met his eyes that time, the words seemed to be in earnest, not even mocking in the slightest. He wore a small smile, and he broke her gaze after a moment, eyeing the layout of the kitchen.

"Alright. If it'll get you off my back." She sighed, shooting him a dirty look, and he nodded, pursing his lips to suppress the grin that was bursting at the seams. "It was a week before Friday. Only once. And, to be honest, I have no idea where to go from here."

"Thomas seems to have some idea where he wants to go." When she gave him a dead stare, he laughed. "I am not making fun of you, zis time. Truly."

"This time," she repeated bitterly. "I'm just... not entirely sure what I want. The whole thing feels risky."

"It certainly is risky if you are trying to get lucky in public during his campaign event." He gave her a scandalized look, but her scowl was unwavering.

"Thanks for the advice."

Her sarcasm left him undeterred. He shrugged. "But if you are careful, what is ze harm? I assure you, even the papers zat care enough to cover Thomas's sex life do not 'ave the resources to find out who is ending up in his bed."

She hesitated a moment, considering his words.

"No, you're probably right." She sighed. "The thing is... I don't know. It feels like it could become a problem."

"Ah, is there... something more you want out of zis?" The sidelong look he gave her was more concerned than she expected it to be. She shook her head, giving a light laugh.

"No, no, nothing like that." He'd begun moving the dishes to his other side by then to maintain his spot on the counter. Y/N rolled her eyes when she noticed. "My career just complicates things, is all."

Before he could respond, she took a step back from the counter, peeling off her rubber gloves despite the looming load of dishwashing she'd still have to do before the end of the night. "And as much as I'd love to stay and chat, I need to get back to making sandwiches. Head back out to the dining room."

She jerked her chin toward the door while retying the strings on the back of her apron. Lafayette frowned.

"Are you trying to get rid of me?"

"Not trying to. Kicking you out." She gave him a flat stare as she turned toward where she stood. "Some of us have bills to pay. C'mon."

He scowled as he hopped off of the counter and she waved him away, following close behind to herd him out the door. He glanced back over his shoulder at her when she did, though, and his gaze looked once again as smug as it had when he first realized what he'd walked in on. "If you insist, chérie. I understand that you must do away with me before you can carry on with your little affair. Do not let me get in ze way."

Y/N rolled her eyes at how pleased he looked with himself as he strolled back into the seating area, not giving him the satisfaction of a response. However, when she returned to the kitchen counter, she couldn't help but scan the room through the front window; who she was looking for went without saying. She found him already looking at her, and she swallowed hard.

Nothing articulable was conveyed in his heavy stare, nor in the barely-there smile he wore, arms folded as he watched her shamelessly. She bit her lip. The three seconds she held his gaze felt like hours, and when he finally winked and broke eye contact to turn to someone who'd just approached his table, she felt her stomach turn. This wasn't over.

------

Thomas's rally ended at nine, but it wasn't until closer to nine-thirty that he'd persuaded the final member of his constituency to call it a night. Mira, Orlando, Jac, and all their miscellaneous employees had gone home when their shifts ended at the official end of the event, but Y/N was stuck on the clock for another hour or longer until she finished cleaning up the mess left behind from the evening. Unfortunately, his event running over time meant that he didn't start clearing out his campaign setup until around five minutes after the diner was empty, and that his posters, decorations, and gaudily-colored buttons weren't actually gone until closer to nine fifty.

Y/N was clearing the kitchen counters all the while, knowing she couldn't begin to mop up the grayish mess of liquified dirt and matted grass scattered across the floor until they were both gone. When they seemed to be on the last load of red streamers and campaign merchandise, she emerged back toward the front counter to lock up behind them. Thomas was still out in the back when James approached her, his final box of t-shirts resting on his hip.

"Is there anything else you need from us before we leave? I don't want to take up too much more of your time."

Y/N smiled at the concerned look he wore. "Depends; have you paid Mira in full for all our troubles?" Despite her exhaustion, her tone was light, and the tension in James's brow relaxed.

"I gave her the check before she left."

"Then you're good to go." She shrugged as she went to collect another basin of dirty dishes from under the side of the counter; her annoyance at it couldn't even rise, not after the mountain of plates she already had waiting for her next to the sink. "I've got everything else under control."

He nodded. "Thank you for letting us rent out the venue. All our attendees seemed more than happy with it."

"If it was up to me, you wouldn't be here, but I'll take the credit if you're offering it." She raised a playful eyebrow, and he wore a tired smile.

"The credit's all yours."

"My gratitude is beyond words." Though the words were mocking, he let out a light laugh, and she couldn't help her wry grin.

"I'm always glad to hear it." He took another glance around the place, checking for anything that might've been left behind, before turning toward the back exit Thomas had just re-emerged from.

"What else do we still have to box up?"

James paused on his way out. "You're welcome to do a final sweep, but I believe we have everything."

"Yeah?"

"I'm fairly certain." He looked back toward where Y/N stood behind the counter once more, leaning down on the bakery case. "Goodnight, Y/N."

"Bye, James." Her sleepy voice has a singsong lilt to it that made Thomas smile as he searched the dining room a final time. She'd started toward the kitchen once more to retrieve her broom, but Thomas's voice stopped her.

"Anything else I can do before I head out?"

She turned on her heel to face him, wore a soft smile when she saw how earnest he looked, eyebrows raised and his hands tucked into the pockets of his dress pants. "So long as you’ve gotten everything you brought here, there’s nothing I need from you."

"You sure?" When she raised a questioning eyebrow, he shrugged casually. "Just hate to leave this place a mess from our campaign event. Don't wanna leave you with all the extra cleanup."

She pursed her lips when her smile threatened to broaden. "That's sweet, Thomas, but really, it's okay. I'm on the clock for a while longer anyway. I think I can stick it out, considering I'm the one employed here."

"Feel like I remember hearin' somewhere that your shift ends at ten." He furrowed his brow, walking toward the counter where she stood. She didn't quite get his point until she turned to the clock above the doorway: it was nine fifty-eight. "'S there really nothin' I can do to help out?"

She snorted, folded her arms. "Not unless mopping the dried coffee off of the floors is your idea of a good time." When his expectant expression was unwavering, her eyebrows shot up. "You're not seriously offering your services as a janitor, are you?"

The corners of his lips quirked. "Only if it's welcome, sweetheart."

"You're wearing a full suit." The disbelief in her eyes was rigid despite his conviction.

"Don't mind. Long as I can throw my jacket somewhere." He cracked a grin. "Unless, of course, you just wanna get rid of me."

She eyed him skeptically, but he didn't seem to be joking just then. "If you're serious, I'm not turning down free labor."

"Or an excuse to spend more time with me?" His tone was playful, and she couldn't help her spiteful laugh as she re-entered the kitchen.

"So that's your ulterior motive? Hope you don't think you're getting any when it's eleven o'clock and I'm half asleep from my seven hours here tonight."

"As, c'mon now, why's there gotta be an accusation?" he called after her, and she could hear the teasing frown in his voice. "Can't I just wanna lend a hand?"

"I'll believe it when I see it." She emerged not a minute later with a broom and dustpan to see him having shaken off his jacket and undone his tie. She quirked a brow.

"Hey, anywhere I can throw these?" His sleeves were rolled up to his forearms as he slid his tie out of his collar, popping open the first few buttons on his dress shirt, and Y/N bit her lip. The suits he wore didn't quite do justice to his physique; his jackets may have fit tighter around his upper arms, but his shirts were practically molded around his biceps just above where the veins bulging in his forearms disappeared into his sleeves. She was sure the few extra inches of visible skin below his collar were meant to draw her wandering eyes, only hinting at the toned chest she knew lay beneath the starched fabric.

When she looked back up and caught his eye, he looked predictably cocky. He wore a wide, smug grin, and she rolled her eyes before he even spoke. "You're starin', sweetheart."

Y/N shrugged, wearing the smallest of smiles. "Nothing I haven't seen before."

"Anything you wanna see again?" He raised a suggestive eyebrow, and she laughed.

"Tempting," she said, and when surprise flashed in his eyes, his interest piqued as he started toward her. However, she stopped him at arm's length, a hand on his chest. "But you know what would be really sexy?"

His delight in the turn of events was obvious. "What's that?"

She leaned her broom against the counter and took a step forward, pushing herself onto her toes until her lips brushed against the skin just below his ear, and his hands ghosted down to her hips. Her voice was just above a whisper. "Watching you disinfect all the dining room's high-touch surfaces."

She pulled back with a broad grin when he let out a disappointed groan. "Seriously?"

His frustration was obvious, his brow furrowed as he looked down at her, deadpan, and she couldn't help but laugh. "Oh, yeah. Free labor really gets me going."

"Tease," he grumbled, and Y/N gave him a skeptical stare.

"Don't you gimme that; I'm not the one here under false pretenses," she reminded him, and he folded his arms.

"Now I dunno what you could be refferin' to." She raised a dubious eyebrow when a grin split his phony discontent. "But there's nothin' wrong with mixin' business and pleasure."

"Don't you dare try to derail me after taking up six hours of my time, Jefferson." She prodded his chest with a scowl. "If you're sticking around, I'm putting you to work."

"Wouldn't have it any other way." When he did grab the broom, he glanced back toward the kitchen, wearing an inquisitive frown. "I'm gonna go stick my jacket in a cupboard; is that alright? I'll only be a minute."

"Oh, yeah; do you want me to take it? We have a coat closet in the back."

"Nah, 's alright. I can find it."

Though she gave him a skeptical once-over, Y/N nodded. "Have at it."

When he wasn't back a few minutes later, her train of thoughts managed to run a full 5k -- what could he possibly be spending that much time in the back for? Was he really still trying to find a coat hanger, by then? How hard was it to find a closet in exactly two rooms? Or, really, was he just hiding out until she'd already gotten the worst of the grime off of the tile?

She eliminated her final guess when early-2000s pop music began blaring through the diner's sound system. Though she groaned loudly enough for him to hear it from where he'd located the aux input, she couldn't say this was really a downgrade from Orlando's dusk-till-dawn smooth jazz. When he emerged from behind the kitchen's swinging door and caught sight of her dead stare, he laughed.

"Hanging up your jacket, huh?" Her annoyance was contrived; the way the corners of her lips twitched up gave her away.

"Hey, I can multitask." He bit his smile back, giving her a serious look, brow furrowed. "I said I'm here to help, didn't I?"

"How is this possibly helping?"

"'Cause you need to liven up a little bit," he said matter-of-factly, and Y/N rolled her eyes. "Cleanin's only boring if you make it boring."

"You'll be singing a different tune when you start wiping down the bathroom."

"Hey, how'd I end up on bathroom duty?" he pouted, and she shrugged, turning to the shelves at the back to hide her growing smile.

"As the only one of us who actually works here, I've elected myself the de-facto CEO." She hung her dishrag up on the rack next to the sink before looking back at him over her shoulder, shrugging. "Hate to break it to you, but you're on my turf."

"But I'm a volunteer!" he protested, and she grinned.

"My point exactly."

"Now, what if I refuse to do it?" Though she was busy restocking all the cups that she'd finished washing earlier in the day, she could hear Thomas's footsteps approaching where she stood behind the counter.

"Then you don't, and you finally leave so that I can be productive."

"Sounds like I'm really the one with the power, here."

"Not when I have something I know you want." She looked up with a suggestive smile when he hoisted himself onto the counter beside her, and he raised his eyebrows, folding his arms across his chest.

"And now what's that?"

"Three guesses, Thomas." She had a feeling he'd only need one of them when his gaze began to wander down the length of her body, eyes shining.

"I dunno how unpaid this labor is, sweetheart."

"Well, you won't quite be making minimum wage," she said, turning back to face him as she leaned against the counter opposite where he sat. "But I think the employment benefits will make it worth your time."

"That so?" He pushed himself off the counter's edge, hardly having to take a step forward before his arms landed on either side of her on the counter's edge, caging her in, and she inhaled sharply. His grin was wide; his hips pressed into hers as he leaned in, and she swallowed roughly, leaning back on her hands which rested on the linoleum countertop.

"I'd like to think so," she breathed, as he dipped down, wasting no time as his lips met the tender skin below her jaw.

"Mm, I think I'm gonna need to decide that one for myself," he murmured against her neck, and despite how tempting it was when his hands gravitated to her waist, falling slowly further as he bit down softly on her earlobe, she pushed him away the minute she found her last shred of willpower.

"Uh-uh." Thomas scowled as he pulled back, hands planted on the counter at her sides. She folded her arms. "I'm not gonna make even more of a mess of this place that I'll have to clean up. When the diner's shining, I'd be happy to revisit."

One of his hands rose to her jawline, lifting her chin up ever so slightly to look him in the eye, and she raised a skeptical eyebrow. "After the place is spotless," he murmured, his voice hard and his gaze fixed on her lips, "Hope you know how much you're gonna regret leadin' me on like this. You won't be tryin' it again."

Despite her effort to remain unaffected, Y/N's breath caught, and she bit down on her bottom lip as she struggled to fight the heat rising in her cheeks. Her eyes were wider than she knew, and he seemed to be reveling in her reaction, wearing a wolfish grin.

After a moment, she swallowed, took a deep breath, her voice shaky. "Last I checked, I'm still at work."

"And I wouldn't dream of hinderin' your career." Thomas winked as he took a step back, going for the broom where she'd discarded it before, acting as though nothing at all had happened. Y/N was left reeling.

Thus began the next ninety minutes of her life. Though, to Y/N's surprise, Thomas did end up cleaning the bathrooms, putting up little resistance, he'd also managed to convince Y/N to help him. Despite there having been two of them, every subsequent task took twice as long as it otherwise would've. She'd have denied it, but Thomas's presence was a more-than-welcome distraction.

About half an hour later, he'd managed to drag her away from her Lysol bleach and her old rags in favor of taking a break to dance with him (apparently, she was underappreciating the wonder that was Outkast's greatest hit). She rolled her eyes at the suggestion but grudgingly obliged, and Thomas couldn't help but call out the small, growing smile that broke her grumpy facade. He'd seemingly done the impossible by getting her to let herself go for an evening. Neither of them was quite sure how the floor had gradually become spotless between their distracted banter, nor when exactly they'd managed to wipe down every surface in the kitchen as his playlist seamlessly ventured through every one of Britney Spears's wildest phases.

She'd just about forgotten about her fatigue as Thomas repeatedly soaked the ankles of her jeans with his mop, claiming that her being in his line of sight was just too much of a distraction for him to do his job properly. She scoffed every time, but the fact that her cheeks had grown sore from smiling made her annoyance marginally less convincing.

He eventually took off his shiny black oxfords after having spent the evening trying to hide his concern over some of the chemicals in her soaps ruining the varnish; she didn't bother to argue with his insistence that it absolutely marked a milestone in their progress that he wasn't afraid to step in any greenish gunk or black mold -- if they hadn't missed any, what was the harm? However, she did reprimand him for ransacking their fridge when she left for three minutes to put the mop away. She didn't stay mad long.

Wiping down the glass of the bakery display case took too long for her liking. As it turned out, it was difficult to focus after teasing him for the expected mediocrity of the John Mayer impression he claimed to be impeccable, as he immediately decided it needed to be proven. However, she didn't regret provoking him when the result had her sides beginning to hurt from laughing. She was just glad that they'd nearly finished cleaning.

Much to his dismay, Thomas had to cut the music after the sweet old lady who lived above the dry-cleaners next door came down, banging on the back door to chew them out. The fire behind her threats to file a noise complaint with the cops died down pretty quickly when Thomas offered her a beignet and a cup of tea, sending her on her way with a winning smile, a to-go box, and a Jefferson campaign button. (Y/N proceeded almost immediately to scold him for just giving away the fruits of her hours of labor behind a deep-fryer.)

But as the music was revoked, their animated evening of slacking off began to wind down. The only thing left for them to do was to finish the dishes, and Thomas proved to be much more helpful with this than Lafayette had been earlier in the day.

All was quiet as he washed the dishes and she proceeded to dry them, silence split only by his sporadically humming the best of the Black Eyed Peas. It was comfortable, just being together as the warm air wafted from the cooling oven not too far behind, as their hands brushed every time he passed her another plate. Her lips were pursed in a feeble effort to hide how endeared she was every time she glanced to him, his sleeves soaked past the elbow while he remained unbothered. If he noticed, he didn't mention. Finally--

"How are you so good with people?"

"Hm?" He turned his head toward her with a raised eyebrow, and she had to ignore the flecks of foamed soap that clung to his curls and his shirt. Y/N shrugged.

"I just mean..." Her smile was shy; she didn't meet his eyes. "I don't get how you do it. Mira absolutely dotes on you; you've befriended half of our staff after one night here. You just talked to my crankiest neighbor for literally all of five minutes, and suddenly, she's part of your voting bloc."

He just watched her for a moment. His stare was soft. "Can't help it if people find me irresistible."

Her loud, disbelieving scoff made him grin, but she looked far from annoyed. "That's your secret? You were just born with it? It isn't Maybelline?"

Though he laughed quietly, when she turned to him with her eyebrows raised, he shrugged. Her question seemed to be in earnest. "I dunno, sweetheart. Don't think it's anything special. People seem just as drawn to you, anyway."

"Sure, 'cause I have a nice ass, and I'm wearing tight jeans. Not the same thing." How frankly she spoke made him grin, and he shot her a wink, passing off another bowl to her.

"Can't argue with that." She rolled her eyes as she began drying the next dish. He bumped his elbow lightly against hers, gaze teasing yet soft. "But you know that's not what I meant."

She sighed. "Alright, fine, but I'm not forty-points-ahead-in-the-polls charismatic. I just... can't figure out what it is about you that people seem so drawn to."

As she concluded moments later, the uninvited smile she wore when he flashed her a warm grin could've contributed to the reason. She turned back to the plates before her, feeling her skin warm under his heavy gaze. "So you're tellin' me people don't follow me strictly 'cause of my political framework and field experience?"

"Oh, I'm sure every one of your supporters has invested hours into reading the 174-page pdf of fiscal policy your campaign published." Another stack of cups went into the cupboard below her.

"People really don't care about how taxin' it was for me to write all that? And here I was, thinkin' every American voter was out there doin' their homework." He looked with disappointment down at the salad plate he was scrubbing at present, but Y/N wasn't buying it.

"Thomas," she groaned as she turned to meet his phony pout, her stare flat. Her mild annoyance only served to amuse him further, and though she scowled when he laughed, he leaned over to gently kiss the crown of her head. She could feel herself flush despite how chaste it was; the casual affection left her more thrown than if he'd tried to rail her in the middle of the kitchen.

"'M only kiddin'," he defended, voice heavy with mirth, making her roll her eyes.

"Aren't you always?" she asked, wiping off the inside of a cup.

"'Course not." He frowned, and she deadpanned as she turned to him, arms folded.

"I'm not sure we've had a serious conversation since I met you."

"Now, that's just not true."

"Isn't it?" He put down the saucepan he was rinsing out to turn to her, matching her demeanor.

"It isn't. I know I tease, but I've never been anythin' but one-hundred percent authentic with you, Y/N."

A moment passed where neither said anything. The corners of Y/N's lips quirked at how sincere he sounded as he waited for her to react. Finally, she turned back to the dishes before her with a tight-lipped smile.

"Maybe this is what it is."

"Hm?"

"Why people like you. This whole endearingly earnest act you've got going on. I could see that being pretty appealing to voters."

"Hey, what d'you mean act?" He bumped his shoulders into hers, offense written across his face, and she laughed.

"Oh, don't pretend you don't know what I mean. Traipsing around from state to state like some type of charismatic golden boy. Making everyone feel all special and appreciated. It's a good tactic; don't get me wrong." She shrugged as she shelved the last stack of bowls. Just a few more things to wash, and they could officially consider the diner spotless. She didn't think much of her own words, but he hung onto them. It was inexplicable as to why he took so much pride in her all but admitting he made her feel special.

"My bein' all kind-hearted and charmin' isn't some scheme," he said after a moment, plastering on a scowl, and she raised an eyebrow as he passed her a fork. For a brief moment, she was worried she'd crossed a line, but when his eyes met hers, his gaze was playful. "'M just a nice person. Maybe you should try it sometime."

Her mouth fell open in surprise, indignant but hardly disguising her smile, and she let out a huff. "I was joking, you asshole!" When he only snickered, she pursed her lips, shoving him away from her with the little comparative strength she had.

"Hey, now!" His reprimanding had very little bite to it with the laugh carried in his voice as he stumbled a step to his right, tugging the faucet head along with him. He scowled at Y/N's self-pleased smile, flicking his wrist to turn the spray of water from the sink onto her.

She yelped, jumped back from it, but he'd already managed to drench the front of her shirt. She wore an expression of disbelief as she paused a moment, watching him return to the dishes as if nothing had happened despite his entertained grin. It was then that she struck back, lunging toward the sink to retaliate, and he wasn't quite quick enough to stop her.

He could only do damage control once she'd already managed to spray a line of water across his chest, and she gasped when he pushed her back to her part of the counter.

"You're more trouble than I was expectin'," he laughed, and she folded her arms.

"You're no walk in the park yourself."

"But you're the one who decided to let me stick around, sweetheart," he retorted, giving her a pointed look, and she shrugged good-naturedly.

"You might be a handful, but you're worth having around once in a while."

He laughed at how matter-of-factly she spoke, and for once, she wore an unabashed grin. "Now you're just flatterin' me," he teased.

"Oh, of course, such high praise; you aren't always awful."

"Hey, that means somethin', comin' from you," he defended, prodding her in the side, and she squealed, jumping away.

"Hands off, Jefferson. I'm at work."

"Aw, 'm sorry. Didn't mean to disrespect your professional boundaries."

"Check yourself next time," Y/N scowled, but there was no heat to it. The pair caught one another's eyes, both wearing the same, gentle smile, and it seemed too soon when he broke her gaze, returning to the last couple pieces of silverware. She watched him another moment until he turned to pass her a ladle. He raised an eyebrow when he noticed her gaze hadn't strayed.

She only turned back to the counter when she took the ladle from him, drying it off and sliding it back into its place in the drawer. All was quiet, and though they could both feel the chilled air of the spring night drifting in through the poorly-sealed back door, where they stood, it felt perfectly warm.

He glanced at her. "'S nice to see you like this."

The comment was offhanded; he didn't wait for a response, only returned to washing the spoons, but Y/N furrowed her brow.

"Like what?"

He turned back to her with a raised brow, mildly surprised at the curious frown she wore, and he shrugged, still wearing his faint smile. "I dunno." She didn't fill the silence, and he continued, "With your guard down. Always feels like you've got some kinda walls up."

She swallowed; for a split second, her gaze was absent. Ultimately, she sighed. "I guess I'm just cautious," she said quietly, and Thomas frowned at the defensive lilt that had returned to her tone.

"I get it." He reached over to finally turn off the water, and she put away the final fork he handed her. "'S not always worth lettin' people in."

His smile was tiny, barely there, but understanding, and when she met his eyes, it felt like he was seeing right through her. "It just makes it too easy to get hurt."

He nodded, eyes kind. "'M glad I make you feel like you can relax."

She hardly shrugged as he turned to her, leaning on his hand on the countertop. "Yeah." A small smile graced her lips as she eyed his expression, and she bit her lip. "I guess there are worse things, huh?"

His laugh made her nervous gaze soften. "Aw, sugar, you're too kind," he said, the mocking sarcasm in his voice balanced out by how gentle his grin was. She rolled her eyes.

"Whatever," she said softly, and he plastered on a mock pout. "I'm not building up your ego any more, alright? I'm not sure it has any room to grow."

"I wouldn't mind you makin' me just a little bit more conceited, now."

She finally turned all the way to him, putting down the dishcloth she'd been using for drying, and despite herself, the affection in the way he was looking back down at her made her heart flutter. "If you're looking for blind adoration, you should've figured out by now that I'm not the girl for that."

"No, you really aren't, are you?" Though her words had been pointed, had come with the intention to knock him back down a peg, his low voice was far, far from contemptuous. Her eyebrows jumped when he took a step toward her, taking her chin in his hand to lift her face to his before bending down to meet her where she stood, his confident lips gentle against hers. "You're so much more than that," he murmured, not pulling away enough to even look her in the eye, their noses brushing together.

Though she hesitated, it was a moment later that Y/N took a step forward to meet him halfway, her tentative touch rising up the stiff material of his shirt and to the back of his neck. He wrapped an arm around her waist. She pushed herself up onto her toes, and their lips met once again.

The patience in his every move was new to her, inconsistent with the raw desire that usually governed his actions. When he sucked her bottom lip between his teeth, her mouth parted in a soft moan, and he took the opportunity for what it was, wasting little time in pressing his tongue teasingly against hers. He was holding her close, but she was arched fully up against him regardless of it, wanting to feel the movement of his body against hers. Both her arms looped around the back of his neck, pulling him down to her.

The kiss was deep, intimate, but not harsh, and when his mouth moved to the skin of her neck, she tipped her head back, eyes closed with her silent sigh as his hands moved down to grip the backs of her thighs. She couldn't help her surprise at how effortless it was for him to pick her up, to lift her onto the counter she'd been standing in front of. She groaned when his lips found a particularly sensitive patch of skin, all but going limp in his grasp.

"Thomas," she whined, wrapping her legs more tightly around him to anchor his hips against hers, grinding against his hard body.

"Come home with me," he muttered into her neck, and though she gasped at the feeling of his teeth scraping against her, she pulled back to look him in the eye, raising his head to hers with a hand in his curls.

"What?" she whispered, chest heaving, and he pressed another soft, chaste kiss to her lips.

"Come home with me," he repeated, looking into her wide eyes.

"Why?" He raised his eyebrows at her hesitance, and she took a deep breath. "Thomas, I live upstairs; if you wanna stay, I... I definitely wouldn't mind that, but--"

She cut herself off at his skeptical hum, and he said, "Listen, I almost got caught tryin' to sneak outta here in the morning last Saturday, and I'm not tryna have a repeat of that, alright? Just come back to my place." One of his hands lifted from her thigh to weave itself into her hair, holding her head by her nape as he kissed her, more intently that time. "Promise I'll make it worth your while."

She swallowed. "Pull your car around the back."

---------

It was hours later that Y/N found herself lying exhausted on satin sheets, slumped in a penthouse just across the river and high above the city. Thomas hadn't been lying about making the most of her time; his hands had seldom left her skin from the moment she entered his passenger seat, dragging her quickly past the doorman on the first floor of his building, pinning her against the wall of the elevator for a heated, fleeting moment before he'd finally tugged her the rest of the way to his apartment.

She was wrapped in his covers up to her chest, feeling just on the wrong end of self-conscious, but her clothes were rumpled and sprawled across every corner of the rooms they had to pass to reach his bed. They hadn't been overly concerned with where the outfit ended up, just that it wasn't on her skin. Every joint in her body was already sore, and she groaned as she tried to sit up, leaning against his headboard as Thomas returned to her with a glass of water.

"Thanks," she said, and he couldn't help but grin at how hoarse she sounded as he handed her the cup.

"'Course, sweetheart." He came to sit beside her as he pressed a kiss to her temple, and she took a long sip of the water, nearly draining all of it in one gulp. "You alright? Everything still feeling okay?"

"I'm exhausted, and my ass hurts like a bitch," she griped, but when he raised an eyebrow, she nodded. "But I'm all good. Might have to bill you for the truckload of concealer I'll need to cover up all these fucking marks, but I'm fine."

"Good." He squeezed her thigh lightly when she leaned against his side, her legs bent and knees pulled in toward her chest. When she rested her head on his shoulder, he wrapped an arm around her waist, holding her against himself with a small smile.

"Can't believe I didn't know you live in the same building as Lafayette, though," she mumbled, and he looked down at her with an eyebrow raised.

"Yeah, he actually lives just across the hall. When he came back from France lookin' for a place to live, I thought it'd be fun if we were neighbors, and he took me up on it pretty easily."

She hummed her acknowledgment. "So that means, when Lafayette showed up half an hour late to your lunch date and I was there instead, that it would've taken you all of five seconds just to go home?"

He laughed. "Now, what exactly are you accusin' me of?"

"Being a pain in my ass two weeks ago," she grumbled, and he shrugged, wearing a small, self-contented smile and not bothering to argue with her.

"You didn't seem to mind me bein' a pain in your ass last night." He raised a smug eyebrow, and she scowled, turning her head to break the eye contact. She disregarded the heat she could feel rising in her cheeks.

"You say 'last night' as though we didn't get back here less than four hours ago."

"Don't pretend you don't get the picture."

"Whatever." She rolled her eyes, but the corners of her lips quirked when he kissed the top of her hair. She looked down at the cup she held against her chest. "Is it cool if I stay over?"

"'Course. I don't want you gettin' in an Uber with some creep in the middle of the city at this time of night."

"Mm, but you had no problem with me getting in a Bentley with some creep in the middle of the city four hours ago?"

Despite the teasing bite to her words, he grinned. "Hey, now, I'm just sayin' you gotta be selective about which creeps you're lettin' drive you around at all hours."

"I mean, you haven't killed me yet, so I'd call that a point in your favor." She yawned, reaching over to put the glass he'd given her on his bedside table. "We should get some sleep. It's late, and I'm sure you have somewhere to be tomorrow."

"Alright, sweetheart." She pushed herself forward from the headboard, laying back onto the pillow she'd been leaning on, holding it close to her head as he reached over to turn off the lamplight before joining her under the covers. "G'night."

"Night, T."

They fell asleep almost immediately in one another's arms.

------------

5:17 AM

From: [email protected]

Y/N--

I’m glad you reached out. Your writing’s excellent as always, but if there’s information you want, you’ve very much come to the right place. I’ve worked with Thomas for years, and though they left me dismayed, I’ve become quite familiar with the not-so-shining moments in his background.

I’d rather not put anything in writing should someone find this communication. Let’s find a somewhat private place to meet. Be sure to bring a recorder and a notepad. Believe me when I say you’re going to want to hear what I have to say.

John Adams

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thestarwrites · 3 years

Text

A Different Time, A Different Place, Ch. 5

A TIME SKIP...

All Might has vanished from Japan and no one but two people know where he went. But what of the girl he's left behind?

“The girl is pregnant, Torino.”

Recovery Girl was one of the only people who knew what happened, and where Torino sent the young hero Toshinori. She was over his house, giving a weekly update on the girl All Might had been dating. The one thing he had made Gran Torino promise was that he would ensure Keri wasn't marked by All For One as she tried to live her life. But he didn't want to know what was going on - it hurt too much.

He covered his mouth, looking outside at the full moon, “You’re sure? You're sure she's pregnant?"

“I’m a doctor of course I’m sure! It’s hard for me to get close as a popular hero. She’s enrolled in college. She didn’t go into hero work.”

He nodded, “Yes, we knew she was going into college," Torino shook his head and ran a hand through his silver hair, "No one can know. Keep an eye on her, make sure no one is also watching. I can't believe Toshinori was stupid enough to get a girl pregnant!”

“You have to tell him.”

“No.”

“He has a right to know Torino!” She sounded shocked.

“If he knows he’ll come back to Japan. We can’t have that happen right now. It’ll be a distraction. The girl doesn’t know what happened to him. He doesn’t know anything about her. He’s already grieving the loss of Nana and his relationship. He doesn’t need more to worry over!”

“This isn’t right...”

“I promised I would protect him. And in keeping this knowledge from him we protect all three of them.”

Chiyo sighed and nodded, “This will be hard on her.”

“She’s strong enough.”

Sighing again the woman spoke, “He'll never forgive you for this, you know.”

“He can hate me if he wants. His vengeance is needed to get stronger to face All for One, not worrying about a child. That is what I have to focus on. The child has a loving mother to care of it.”

“I should let you go, Torino,” She stood and took a deep breath.

"You're upset with me, Chiyo," He sighed and pushed his hair back again, “Keep me posted.”

“I will...” she sighed as she left.

-------------------------

"Come on, Toshi! What are you afraid of they're just girls!" Dave Shield laughed as he tried to get Toshinori to go to a frat party with him, "The girls are absolutely obsessed with you! You have quite the number of groupies already! You're so lucky!"

The hulking blonde shook his head, adjusting his varsity jacket, "I should... try to do some more hero work."

Dave sighed, "Toshi. You've been working all day." He patted his friends back, "Come unwind with us. It's a frat party! I know you don't have those in Japan. You guys are all too strict with your school and shit."

"Okay- okay," he nodded and pushed a hand over his hair.

"We're just a couple single guys anyway, right?"

All Might looked strange but nodded, Dave made a mental note to ask him about it sometime. Maybe he had a bad breakup?

The frat house was loud and full of drunk teenagers, Toshinori was 18 and he tried to rationalize that he shouldn't worry about Japan while he was here in America. He held a beer in his hand as he looked down at it, he suddenly lifted it up and downed it.

"Toshi! Come do a shot!"

The boy walked over with his empty glass, "A what?"

David laughed, trying to think of the words in English to describe it, "Its a single serving of hard booze you drink in one go."

"Oh." He took the little shot glass handed to him and he did as the other boys did, grimacing at the bitter taste of the tequila, "Well that was unpleasant."

"You don't drink it because its pleasant Toshinori, you drink it because it gets you drunk faster!" One of the guys explained.

"Oh," he expressed again, taking another two shots because that's what the other boys did.

The party went on and Toshinori was feeling buzzed and a little sick to his stomach. He moved to cross the room, heading for the door to get some air. He was stopped by a pretty blonde girl with a small waist and big round ass who started grinding against him to the music playing, and for a moment he let himself go and placed his large hands on her waist. He sighed as she bent over and stood up, pressing back against him.

He looked down at her and for a moment, he couldn't think of anyone but Keri.

Pulling away from the blonde she let out an annoyed, "Hey!"

"S-sorry." He mumbled and moved to head back to his original trajectory - the front door. He pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed softly.

Dave was outside smoking a blunt, beer in hand, and he frowned when he saw Toshinori come out of the party looking upset. Sighing he wet his fingertips, putting out the joint and stashing it in his pocket, "Toshi!" He smiled and walked up to his friend, "Hey man, you don't look so good, whats up?" Toshinori looked up at his friend, there were tears in his eyes. Dave knitted his brows together and put a hand on his back, "Hey- hey Toshi, whats wrong?"

He sniffed, rarely ever so vulnerable, but he was buzzed and the tears wouldn't stop, "Dave..."

"Hey, come on- come on I'll drive ya home, pal."

"Yeah?"

Dave smiled and nodded, "Of course, come on."

The blonde nodded and walked with his friend, hands in his pockets as he sniffled. Once they were a considerable distance from the house and down the street toward David's car, he finally spoke, "I left a girl back home."

He frowned, "Yeah? Whats her name?"

"Keri Chairo."

Nodding Dave climbed into the car, "That's a pretty name. Why don't you tell me about her?"

Toshinori clamored into the car as well and he leaned his head back to look up at the sky, "She's really smart. She didn't go to the same high school as me but, I always saw her when i was on patrol, and stuff, y'know? So I kept skipping off patrol so I could talk to her until I finally got up the courage to ask for her number."

"Dude, you needed to WORK UP to asking a girl for her number? You're tall and handsome and you have the most powerful quirk I've ever seen!"

He chuckled and wiped his teary eyes, "You don't get it, Dave, she's so beautiful... and she's going to college. She wants to be a hero therapist."

"Is she quirkless?"

Shaking his head he took a deep breath, "No, she has whats called pathokenesis. Emotional manipulation. Like, if someone is sad she can send comforting waves through their body. Or she can inspire you if you're having doubts. She can feel peoples emotions if they're really strong, or if shes focusing on one person. And like," he laughed, blushing, "When we make out and you know... go all the way with her and stuff, she can't control her quirk and you can feel what she's feeling, its - it's wild."

Dave raised his brows, "You have a whole-ass girlfriend and you didn't tell me!? Oh my god Tosh, i thought we were friends!" He laughed, "You've gone all the way with her! Get out of here!"

Toshinori blushed harder, "Yeah... we used to get motel rooms and sneak around about it. But I... I left Japan without telling her. She has no idea where I am."

"Oh dude, that's harsh. Is that what's bugging you?"

He nodded and slumped in the seat, "Remember I told you I have to get stronger to defeat the person who killed my mentor?" When Dave nodded he continued, "I came here because I need to become a hero. I need to get stronger and more powerful. But if I did it in Japan his thugs or he could find me - and if I told Keri? She could be a target. I... I had to protect her."

"Man." Was all Dave could think to say.

The blonde just started to cry softly, "When I finally get back to Japan I need to find her, tell her how sorry I am. That I did what was best for her."

"Toshi, she'll understand."

"What if she doesn't! What if she hates me forever for what I've done?"

The brunette sighed and started the car finally, "If she really loves you, she'll understand."

"I miss her so much," he whimpered, wiping at his eyes.

Dave nodded and patted his arm, "Well, you know what I think?" He looked over but didn't speak, so David continued, "I think you work hard, you throw yourself into this more than before. You become the Symbol of Peace you want to be. So then, when you go back home, you'll be so successful and strong and you can show off all that hard work. So she'll know you did it for her, and for the world. That you gave it your all, and you can look at her and say, Keri, I am here."

He sniffed and smiled a little, "I like that... I am here."

Dave laughed, "Nah man, you have to say it with conviction," throwing his head up he laughed, "I AM HERE!"

Toshinori laughed a little at his friend, taking a deep breath, "I am here!"

"LIKE YOU MEAN IT, ALL MIGHT!" Dave smirked.

Toshinori laughed and beamed, "I AM HERE!!!!"

--------------------

Keri Chairo looked down and gently rubbed the swell of her stomach as she left the hospital. She was going to have a boy, that was incredible news. She sighed thinking of the baby’s father, how he must be dead. He’d never abandon her would he? He said he loved her.

She had gone thorough a lot of changes through the last four months, she was only 18 and she would be a mother before her 19th birthday. She would have to figure out how to care for a child and be a full time student. Luckily her parents were helping her out so she wouldn't have to quit school.

“Excuse me, miss?”

Keri looked up and gasped with a smile, “Y-you’re Recovery Girl-“

The older woman nodded with a smile, “Yes- and whats your name?”

“Keri Chairo, miss.”

“Well young miss, it seems you are expecting?”

Blushing she held her stomach gently, “Yes... I’m going to have a boy, I just found out today.”

“Oh how exciting!” She beamed- Toshinori would have a son - “How... old are you dear?”

“Oh... I’m... I’m eighteen... I know what you must be thinking... some dumb teenager getting knocked up. Why would she have the baby."

Recovery Girl smiled kindly at her, "That's not what i was going to say - but, why are you having the baby?"

She looked down at her hands as she picked at her nails, "I don't know if i would have kept it if... If the father was still here but - he... he's dead and, and we loved each other. We were usually always safe but, someone really close to him died and we were careless. And now he's gone too. It's all I have left of him."

Chiyo's heart shattered instantly knowing the truth, "Oh my dear I'm so sorry... what happened to him?"

"That's the thing," she took a deep breath, "I don't know."

"Then how do you know he's dead?"

"I'd like to think he wouldn't have just disappeared and left me behind."

"Was he a hero?"

"He wanted to be, yeah." She sighed.

She placed a gentle hand on the girl's arm, "Well dear, from what I know of heroes, sometimes they have to make tough decisions for the people they love. Maybe something happened that he couldn't risk you getting hurt? Maybe one of these days he'll come back when you least expect it. But if he is, at least you will have your baby to cherish."

The girl knitted her brows together and she bit her lip, trying not to cry, "I'm sorry I'm getting all weepy on you, miss."

"Oh no no, please, don't apologize young miss Chairo! You're pregnant and grieving, you have a right to be upset," she looked around, "Hey, why don't I take you out for lunch? My treat? Maybe you can tell me all about this boy of yours? And what you want to do with your future?"

Keri looked to her, she felt the emotion of sincerity coming from the woman and she nodded, wiping her nose on her sleeve, "Okay, I'd like that."

"Besides, someone needs to properly congratulate you on the fact that you're having a son."

#all might x reader #all might x oc #all right all might au #young all might

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seizethecarpe · 3 years

Text

Hunting Me, Hunting You || Dave and Rio

Timing: Current @3starsquinn @seizethecarpe Summary: Dave and Rio meet in the woods for some fun bonding activities Warnings: Some medical blood

Dave collapsed against a nearby tree, gasping with exhaustion. His legs and arms had a few nasty scratches on them, but considering the other guy… Dave wiped at his mouth, trying to clear some of the thick taste of blood from his lips. Instead, all he managed to do was smear it even further, and there was nothing to be done about the blood that had spilled right down his neck. It was his own goddamn fault, Dave thought, if he’d had his rifle with him, would have been a whole less of a problem. Seeing as this town seemed to draw the worst of all sorts of critters, he shoulda been more prepared. Rubbing at the scratch marks, he stared at the cockatrice he’d just torn the head off of with mild shock. Sure wasn’t what he’d had planned for tonight.

Orion had heard the skirmish, but almost stopped heading towards it when he smelled the blood. He froze, unsure how far away the fight had been, but sure that wherever he was going it could be dangerous. The smell made Rio dizzy, a sickening feeling settling into his stomach. But he had to shake off that fear. Someone could be hurt, or worse. He ducked around trees, smacking his arms off of branches as he tried to weave between the foliage and follow the smell of blood. He finally broke out into a clearing and spotted a man, on the ground against a tree with a familiar creature’s body lying beside it. The cockatrice was a relatively new species that Rio had learned about, but he certainly hadn’t expected to see one lying against the ground beheaded. “Hey uh… are you okay?” Rio approached the man with caution, making sure to hold his hands up so he knew he wasn’t a threat while also trying to maintain a good difference in case the man himself was a danger. Once he got a better look he realized that the blood pooling off of his face and neck had come from his mouth, more specifically the sharp, jagged teeth of a selkie. Woah. “Hey there. Are you okay?” Rio asked again, but this time signed as he spoke, “Do you need me to call someone?” He didn’t know for sure if the man would understand ASL like Skylar did, but he thought it was worth a try.

There was a piece of cockatrice skin stuck in his back teeth. Dave tongued at it until he could get it out, and spat it out right before he caught sight of the man approaching. For dangerous, haunted woods, there sure were a lot of people walking off the beaten path. Didn’t they know there were bears and screaming moose all over the place, according to the news? Dave stood back up rapidly even though the guy had his hands raised, but that didn’t seem to mean all that much in this town. He shut his mouth, hiding the teeth, but hadn’t caught the first thing Orion had said, so he had no idea what exactly was going on. Dave narrowed his eyes as Rio spoke again, this time following it with sign language. “Don’t call anyone,” he signed back without speaking. “How’d you know I was hard of hearing?”

Figures that the man wouldn’t want Orion to call an ambulance or anything. That seemed to be pretty common here in town, Rio himself included. There were plenty of injuries that Rio had sustained that he should have gone to the hospital for, but refused to. The longer Rio looked at the man, the more injuries he could pick out. The man had quite the battle it seemed, and Rio was worried that the man was in worse shape than he was willing to admit to a stranger. “Okay. I won’t call anyone. But can I come closer? To help?” Rio signed again, hands still raised in the air. How did he explain that he had a feeling the man would be hard at hearing and may know sign language? The easiest option would be to feign ignorance and pretend it was just a lucky guess. But something told him that the man was smarter than that. Instead, Rio decided for the truth. Or at least one facet of the truth. Rio pointed at his own mouth and opened wide to show off his teeth, “I know a couple of people. They are uh- they have teeth like yours.” Rio signed, hoping that told the man what he needed to know. “My name is Rio. Can I help you?”

So he had seen Dave’s teeth and really recognised them. Sometimes, people tended to gloss right on over them even if they did see it. Same with his shadow. It just was the kind of thing ignorant eyes tended to skate over. Guess the blood drew a whole lot more attention to it. And the dead cockatrice, couldn’t forget about that. Rio didn’t seem uneasy about that, either. He clearly knew more than the average Joe, so after a long moment, Dave nodded. “Not too bad,” he signed, gesturing at the scratches on his arms and legs. They matched the already intense scarring on his limbs all the same. “Dave,” he replied, first by giving his name sign, then spelling out his english one to boot. “It just jumped outta nowhere, all aggressive like. Not a clue why.”

It was a little scary, seeing how much damage those teeth could do. It wasn’t something that Orion had thought much about before. Ricky could fight if needed, but tended to be pretty easy going. And Skylar was one of the nicest, most docile people that Rio knew. Neither had made him consider just how dangerous a selkie could be. Though Rio hardly had room to judge considering his own genetics. “They look pretty painful though.” Along with the blood and wounds, Rio could pick out a myriad of scars and cuts along the man’s body. He had no idea where they came from, but he knew they seemed remarkably similar to the ones hidden beneath Rio’s hoodie and pants. Thinking about them made Rio scratch at his arms reflexively. “I’m familiar with those things.” Rio signed and pointed at the cockatrice. The smell of blood coming from it was intense, and Rio used the sleeve of his shirt to try to block the scent. It only barely worked since he also had to use that hand to sign. “I mean, I’ve never run into one. But I’ve read about them before.” Rio risked taking a few steps forward. The man could be dangerous. The beheaded creature lying next to him was proof enough. But despite this, Rio believed him that he had done it in self defense. So Rio wasn’t scared, even though he maybe should have been. As long as this man didn’t have a deep hatred for hunters and as long as Rio didn’t out himself, all should be good, right? Rio crept closer again, leaning down on the ground in front of the man and sliding the book bag off of his back. “I probably have some wipes in here that we can use to try to clean some of the blood and dirt off. Are you okay with that?”

“Skin like leather, it ain’t too bad,” Dave signed back with a dismissive wave of his hands. Stung like hell and salt water, but it was the sort of pain he was getting more and more often these days. Every hunt was beginning to end with injuries. More and more, ones he couldn’t so easily shrug off. It wasn’t too bad in the water, where he was faster than most of the things around, and smarter. He wasn’t that much faster than anyone on land, and that was where his joints were beginning to give out. “I’ve seen them once before. A big one, nearly as big as a cow. Had killed half the farmer’s family before they got a hunter out for it. Think I got lucky with that one, barely the size of a fox.” He shifted, rolling up his shorts and then his sleeves as permission for Rio to treat him, although he was still watching the guy closely. He just looked like a normal, lanky kid, but that didn’t mean much at all. Looks could be all sorts of deceiving. He had his own shit for cleaning things up in the car, but he wasn’t about to say no to help, nor a friendly face. “So how come you know about selkies and cockatrices?” He asked curiously.

The story was a scary one, and an eye opener. The book that Orion had read that mentioned the beast hadn’t mentioned them getting that big. It made Rio’s eyes grow wide thinking about. A family taken out by something like that, when they had seemingly not done anything to provoke it. Another case that someone like Adam or Alain would have taken with no reservation. A creature that should have been stopped. There were more and more of those cases popping up in Rio’s life recently. Could Rio have taken the cockatrice’s life by himself, without the likes of Kaden or Alain there to watch over him? “It might sting” Rio signed, not bothering to speak this time. He had never really spent time on the other side of the battle wounds. He was always the one that someone was helping bandage, or trying to clean his own wounds. Being on the outside felt like a sort of out of body experience, like it should have been Rio in the place that Dave was in right now. He started by trying to focus on the bloodiest parts, wiping them clean so he could get a better look at the wound itself. Luckily, like Dave said, they didn’t seem too bad. All the blood must have mostly come from the cockatrice. Orion held his hands up to answer Dave’s question but hesitated for a long moment before actually signing. He hated this part. Trying to explain how he knew what he knew. Having to pick between his lies. Because admitting the truth was so much worse. But now, Rio had a new answer that he hadn’t gotten the chance to use much before. “I’m..” He started but waved his hands away after deciding to restart the sentence, “It’s hard to explain. Have you ever heard of the Scribes?”

Dave nodding, gritting his sharp teeth as Rio moved over. He usually did this shit himself, unless he’d been hunting with someone else and they had to clean up each other. Most people tended to think that his injuries were worse than they were, on account of how goddamn much he bled relative to the average human, how much more blood he had in him. He hissed as Orion wiped away the blood, cleaning him up bit by bit. What was worrying was the way he paused at Dave’s question. Like he was preparing to hide something or lie about something. Not that he didn’t get the need for secrecy, but jesus, he was bleeding and exposed in front of this kid, was it really that bad to ask for equivalent exchange. “Yeah, but they’re basically extinct nowadays. You’re a little young to have been one, considering they all but vanished fifty years ago.” He signed, and narrowed his eyes a little. “Might as well spit it out. Ain’t about to judge you.”

The man, Dave, yelped as Orion wiped at the blood and each time it made Rio practically jump out of his skin. “Sorry- Sorry. I’m not used to doing this. Especially to someone else.” He hoped this was helping more than it was causing pain, but the amount of blood was definitely concerning. “Right. Of course.” Dave was familiar with the scribes, which Rio couldn’t decide if that surprised him or not. It was hard to determine. On one hand, it had been mostly kept secret back in the day from people that were not knowledgeable of the supernatural. On the other hand, Rio wasn’t alive back then. He had no idea what the circumstances were like for those that did know about the supernatural. Had the Scribes had some lowkey way to advertise themselves? Maybe if Rio knew this man better he would ask. For now, Rio needed to decide how much of the truth he wanted to share. Having his throat torn out for being a hunter wasn’t at the top of his to do list today. “My uncle was one. Back in the day. Sort of.” Rio sighed before continuing to sign, “He tried to be at least. He joined more towards the end. He was always obsessed with the idea of bringing them back.” Obviously, that hadn’t worked out. Unless wherever he disappeared to was currently thriving from supernatural knowledge. For all Rio knew, he could have his own Scribrary now. “He showed me some stuff as a kid. So I try to learn what I can. Help out if possible.”

"I can do it myself just fine if you ain't comfortable, kid." Dave replied, although it was concerning the way he said he was more used to doing it for himself than others. Especially for a scribe. Maybe if you grew up in a town like this you just got used to being hurt. But hell, the kid was young, right? Surely he couldn't have that much experience unless he was real unlucky, or he was looking for trouble. Which, considering that he called himself a scribe, might have been the case. "But it hurts because I got attacked by a clawed little fucker, not because of you cleaning it." Dave shifted, the harsh crackled barrel of the tree pressing hard against his back, scratching at his skin. I'm the brown of the foliage he caught sight of something moving, a small millipede creeping over and under the dead leaves. It wasn't easy to see when all the colours looked so similar, but that was why Dave kept his eyes focused on it as Rio cleaned, until the kid raised his hands to speak again. "From what I remember, it was always considered a tight line for Scribes. Folks didn't want to share and the scribes had to be really careful about what they knew and told others too. It came apart for a reason. Why do you want to bring it back?"

“It’s okay. You’ve been through enough. Clearly.” Orion gestured at the various wounds. Even if Rio wasn’t comfortable doing this, he needed to be. This was what it meant to help people, right? He would have to do things that he wasn’t entirely comfortable with. As far as that possibility went, Rio supposed that trying to clean and dress some wounds was along the more tame of those fears. Even if the smell of blood and the look of wounds were sometimes enough to make Rio dizzy and nauseous. “You’re right. From what I’ve read, at least. They seemed a bit narrow minded.” Rio didn’t know how to describe it any kinder than that. As far as he was concerned, the Scribes' refusal to move forward and think more progressively led to their downfall. But without having actually been there, Rio couldn’t say for sure if that was the nail in the coffin for them. “I want things to be different. I want to help people without being as outdated or… neutral. I don’t want to just keep the knowledge I want to actually use it to help.” Rio realized how idealistic it was even as he said it. “I guess it sounds crazy, huh? I’m just some kid. Restarting a fallen organization seems a bit far fetched.” Rio finished wiping the blood from the man and moved onto wounds themselves. He started to bandage what he could, careful to do it without hurting the man if possible. “Now that the blood has been cleaned up a bit, it doesn’t look as bad as I thought it might be. Can you walk, after this? If we can get to my car I can drive you anywhere you need to go.”

"Hmmm," Dave replied shortly. He’d never been the type to sidestep the difficult stuff, and this kid, no matter how well intentioned, wasn’t going to find his endeavour as easy as he probably thought. Never mind the lack of knowledge and wisdom thing, that just had to come with time. So he asked the difficult question, and weighed his expectations entirely against Rio’s answer. Hell, it wasn’t like he didn’t in theory have need for a Scribe. He needed to hunt down a fury, and he still couldn’t really understand what they hell they were. “But how do you choose the right person to help? How would you know who the right person to help is?” He shrugged off Rio’s concerns about his injuries. “Yeah, I can walk. My van is just a quarter of a mile away. It ain’t too bad, I just sat down because my stamina ain’t what it used to be. ‘Specially not on land.” He pressed his hand against the bark and hefted himself up into standing, some more blood spilling out of his scrapes, but he’d scab over soon enough. “C’mon, scribeling.”

It was a decent question. Orion liked to hope that in the moment, he would be able to judge that for himself. That he could determine whether or not someone was the right person or not. But it wasn’t entirely lost on him that he tended to be a bit over trusting when it came to anybody without the surname Quinn. It was a quality that he knew needed fixing, but he still clung desperately onto. At the end of the day, that desire to make friends with and understand new people were all Rio felt like he had to offer. If he lost his ability to trust, what did Rio even have left? Still, he wouldn’t be able to live with the guilt if he found out that he helped someone kill an innocent person. “I don’t know, honestly.” Rio finally answered, the silence that lingered between them as he thought, making him too restless, “I don’t want to give out the wrong information to the wrong person.” By that, Rio knew he meant hunters. He wondered how Dave felt about hunters. Was it a given that all supernatural creatures hated them? Rio would understand why. “Maybe I need to develop some vetting process. Make them answer a bunch of questions before I decide if I should help or not.” It wasn’t exactly altruistic, but Rio had no interest in help any random person that wandered by with a supernatural problem. His end goal was to help educate and find some sort of balance or safe zone. Helping a hunter trying to neutralize a werewolf or fae meant nothing to him. The man forced himself up, the movement causing the bleeding to start again. Or speed up at least, Rio wasn’t convinced it had stopped at all. “Scribeling. I like that.” Rio chuckled at the name. He bet Winston would like it too. “Well I’ll just help you get to your van then. Make sure there’s not another one of those things roaming around. I think you’ve lost enough blood for the night.”

“Alright.” Dave didn’t point out that the kid looked skinny and sorta on the short side, that if something else did jump out then it would be Dave doing the hard work, not the little human scribe who had experience bandaging himself up more than other folks. He took a step carefully, testing how stable he was on his legs before starting to walk in earnest, taking liberal advantage of being able lean on trees as he passed each one. “So, Rio, do you know- Hold up.” Dave said, shutting off his brief attempt at conversing as he gripped the bark of a tree. Ever so faintly, it rumbled, with each step through the ground. If it hadn’t rained so recently, it would have been harder to tell, but damn, he could feel it. “Something’s coming. Get back, kid.”

Orion watched carefully as Dave stumbled through the forest. He didn’t stay upright so much as he teetered between trees. Rio wanted to let the man cross the distance himself considering he seemed to be pretty independent, but he would be lying if he claimed he didn’t follow closely behind, ready at any moment to try to jump forward to catch the man from falling. As it was, Dave seemed to be managing fairly well on his own, all things considered. The man began asking Rio a question, but cut off mid sentence. Rio paused, hovering closely to the man. Did he need a minute to catch his breath? But of course things couldn’t be as simple as that. Somehow, Dave knew that danger was on its way. The sudden panic made Rio’s own senses perk up. “We should run, then.” Rio suggested, studying the man’s condition. “You’re already hurt enough, right?”

“You should run. I ain’t got a clue which way it’s comin’ from, but I think I got a better chance with this thing than a newfound Scribe. I’ll be safer too, if I ain’t looking to keep the both of us alive. Now.” Dave growled. If he took his hand from the tree, he wouldn’t feel the reverberations of it coming anymore, and it still wasn’t close enough for him to hear, although if it was as close as it felt maybe Rio would be able to hear it soon. He wouldn’t need the tree roots deep in the ground resonating with steps in the soil to tell them that now. Bipedal, possibly something like a tail or pray being dragged along behind it. Please, not another fucking cockamabob. “Now!”

“What? No way. You’re joking right??” Orion asked the man incredulously, staring at him as if he had gone completely insane. He had read about Selkies a lot since befriending Skylar and Ricky. He knew that the amount of blood wasn’t necessarily indicative of the seriousness of the wounds. Selkies just had more blood than humans did. But the extent of the injury didn’t matter. What did matter was that this man would be in serious trouble trying to fight something off on his own. “You’re already hurt. You could die!” Rio was glancing around trying to figure out where the creature was coming from, but his stupid senses weren’t helping right now. “You don’t have to worry about keeping me alive. Seriously.” Rio had no weapons on him. He hated carrying them in the first place. Although he was trying to assure the man that he could take care of himself, Rio had no interest in fighting or wounding anything. But right now he wasn’t sure how much of a choice he would have. He glanced around, hoping to find a big enough rock or something that he might be able to use as a weapon, but nothing immediately stuck out. Eventually, he decided he would have to settle for something a bit less conventional. He grabbed at a large branch towards the bottom of the tree and yanked, cracking in easily and ripping it from the tree. He broke off the extra twigs and leaves attached to it and tried to wield the thing like a club, glancing nervously over at Dave and lifting a hand to sign, “You sure we can’t just run?”

“Like hell I don’t,” Dave replied sharply. They were close now. Where the fuck were they? The bushy undergrowth was hiding whatever it was, and he couldn’t feel enough with the damp soil and complete absence of rain. He was trying to keep quiet, just in case they hadn’t been heard up until right then, but there was little hope in that. Less, when Rio snapped the branch, but Dave pulled out his hunting knife, better prepared this time. It would have been a real good fucking idea to have his net and trident, but tough shit. “I’m sure. This ain’t my first rodeo.” There wasn’t much more to say beyond that, and there wasn’t much time to say anything more at all. Dave grabbed Rio and yanked him to his side just as two more cockatrices leapt out from between the trees, as big as the one he’d just killed. Possibly from the samy brood as this one. Considering how beat up he was, and that he had some human kid at his side, Dave didn’t like his odds. Without waiting a second longer, he feinted hard left, looking to their attention.

Orion knew this wasn’t a good idea, he just wasn’t exactly sure why yet. Staying in general was a mistake, but Rio wasn’t sure whether he was going to be more of a burden in this fight. The thought of fighting back against the threat made him think of the troll. His arm began shaking while holding the branch and he felt glued to the spot he was in. But this was different, right? The creatures that were attacking were more like spawns. They knew only instincts. If it came to life or death, Rio knew who he needed to protect. Who to fight for. The cockatrices were fast, Rio’s hunter reflexes kicking in as he leapt away from the spot he had been in. Unfortunately, the reflexes didn’t do much for Rio’s balance. He had jumped away from the creature and right into a tree, crashing against it and stealing the breath from Rio’s lungs. He righted himself as quickly as he could, quickly looking around to find Dave. He definitely knew how to fight. Rio needed to make sure to not get in his way while also making sure to keep him safe. Both seemed easier said than done. “Decapitation,” Rio called out, hating the words as he said it, “that’s the easiest way to kill them!”

Great, he’d just get right on that then. Wasn’t exactly easy to decapitate anything fast with just teeth, as Dave’d learned on the first go around. Even as he feinted, he drew both their attentions, and one pounced before he’d even finished moving. Dave threw himself to the ground as it flew right over him, and scrambled back to his feet. Not nearly damn spry enough for this anymore. Didn’t make a difference that both of them were sized like rottweilers, because now there were two of them. He jumped on the one that had just leapt over him, crushing it to the ground as he tore his teeth through the wing closest to his mouth. The beast squawked, twisting and scraping him up as it wriggled out from under him, aiming a bite right at his throat. He threw leaves and forest debris in its face to avoid the deadly teeth, and got back on his feet just for the other to knock him down. “Get OUT of here!” He bellowed at Rio, although he wouldn’t lie, a hand, or even just a distraction wouldn’t be a bad thing right now.

It came down to a decision, as it usually did. Orion had options. Run away like Dave had told him to multiple times already. Try to distract the creatures and by Dave some time. Or try to attack them himself. None of the three were ideal. All three had risks. There was no clear answer, nothing that guaranteed success or a happy ending. So why did Rio have to make this decision when he was so freaking bad at making them? It was enough to make him feel nauseous, but only because it was obvious that Rio knew what the right choice was. He just didn’t want to do it. Not after how the troll had made him feel. Ignoring the sinking pit in his stomach that threatened to root him to the spot he was standing in, Rio pushed himself to move forward and raced up behind one of the cockatrice. He grabbed the thing by it’s tail while it was focused on going after Dave and yanked with as much strength as he could muster. The creature was pulled backwards, lifted off of the ground as Rio chucked it across the opening, its body slamming against a tree and collapsing against the ground. Not dead by anyways, but stunned enough for the moment to even the playing field. “I’m not going anywhere. I’m here to help.” Rio reassured Dave and stood his ground, just as Adam had been teaching him. The easy part was over. Now he had to figure out if he had what it took to kill the thing.

Dave didn’t question the second weight was lifted from his back and hurled away from him. He pushed himself back onto his feet, wishing they were near a water way. He glanced at Rio just long enough to orientate himself as to where his partner and his foes was. For a scribe, the kid packed a punch, and he stood in a trained stance, preparing himself. But Dave couldn’t shake fear he’d seen in Rio before. Problem with fighting without weapons was that he had to get damn close. Fortunately these things did too. When the first one, called Combsy, Dave decided, on behalf of its bright orange cockerel comb, lunged, this time he jerked right and stomped on its leg until the feather thin bones snapped. One wing down and one leg down, it was a fuck ton less of a threat. Dave hopped back as it lunged for his leg, before it squawked in pain, struggling to keep moving. “Can you deal with this one?” He asked Rio. Combsy wasn’t completely out for the count, but the other was shaking its serpentine neck and coming in for a second taste.

Could Orion deal with that one? It seemed like a simple enough question from Dave, but not one that Rio felt like he could answer convincingly. “Uh- sure” Rio answered, hoping that he was right. It would have been embarrassing if Dave had to save Rio from this thing after assuring him that he could handle it. It would be even more embarrassing if Rio died to the thing. Luckily, or maybe unluckily, the cockatrice had no problem distinguishing which one Rio was and was nice enough to circle around Rio, ready to pounce at any moment. Rio found himself spinning around, trying to follow its movements but doing little more than dizzying himself. This thing was fast. Rio had the reflexes of a hunter but wasn’t exactly reliable enough to have the coordination of one. Once the thing pounced, Rio wasn’t sure that he would be able to dodge it for long. His only chance was to incapacitate the thing before it did too much damage. He shrugged his denim jacket off, wrapping one of the sleeves around his wrist to fasten it and then spreading out his stance to keep himself stable. Then he waited, until the beast’s movements slowed and Rio realized that he was jumping. He shifted as quickly as he could, raising his arms up as a shield and crying out when the beast bit down into his arm. There was a crushing pressure, but Rio didn’t feel into digging into his skin. One stroke of luck, the thing didn’t seem to have sharp enough fangs to get through the hoodie and denim jacket. Rio worked as quickly as he could, looping the rest of the denim jacket around the creature’s head and pulling it tightly. He tied the sleeves together and double knotted them, only letting go once he was sure the creature could no longer open it’s mouth. It lunged away from him, jumping up and down and rearing its head back and forth as it tried to get the jacket off. Rio took the distraction as an opportunity and found the same stick he had grabbed before and used it to smack against the creature, hoping that he could hit it enough to force it into unconsciousness.

Unconvinced but satisfied with Rio’s answer, Dave turned his attention back to the cockatrice he’d been fighting, waiting for it to dart forward so he could lunge too, crushing it under his weight. Dave trapped the cockatrice under his body, one knee over each wing. Its broken hollow bones poked into his calf as it screeched worse than any human he’d ever heard. Damn thing wasn’t right, nor wrong, it didn’t deserve to die at all, let alone in pain. Its death was functional, so Dave twisted its neck fast until the crack of its bones echoed off the trees like a gunshot. That wasn’t enough to kill it, but it stopped squirming and screaming, and it made this last part easier. His teeth tore through scales and ligament and bone, until with a horrifying squelch it separated, spewing blood all over his face. The head dropped to the ground, and the body with it. “How you doing, kid?”

The monster hadn’t stopped moving, but it had definitely slowed. Orion was pretty sure he had managed to damage its wing. It was on the ground now, hopelessly pawing at the jean jacket wrapped around it’s head. The pointed edge of the large stick Rio had broken from the tree stabbed against the ground, and Rio was very aware how easy it would be to impale the creature and end everything. But everytime he went to lift the stick all he could think about was the troll and the way it had cried out when Rio had taken its life. The familiar loud buzzing noise started ringing in Rio’s ear. It was a familiar sound that took over whenever he became too stressed. The sound only cut out when Dave spoke from behind him. Rio jumped at the sudden words and spun around, glancing between the man and the creature with eyes all too close to bursting into tears. “I can’t do it.” Rio said solemnly, “I hurt him and I don’t- I don’t think I can do it.”

“Right, uh, turn away, kid.” Dave reached past Rio and yanked the branch out of the ground, looked down at the pointed end before nodding to himself that he was convinced it was shapr enough. His arm groaned in protest as he hefted the branch up and stepped down hard on the cockatrice’s wing, pinning it in place. It squawked and shrieked as it struggled against him, clawing up his ankle, but it dropped like a marionette with cut strings when Dave drove the branch through its heart. He watched its last, convulsing breaths, and then its shudder, and then it was over. Dave winced as he turned around, taking in the tear tracks on Rio’s face. “You’re alright, scribeling. It’s over now. I would have been mince meat out here if you hadn’t stepped in. Are you hurt?”

What an embarrassment. Orion was supposed to be the one saving Dave, not the other way around. He had come across an injured man in the woods and yet still somehow ended up being the one in peril. “I’m sorry.” Rio crossed his arms in defeat and stared at the ground as Dave grabbed the stick and moved towards the creature. When the creature started screaming, Rio tried to cover his ears. It didn’t stop him hearing, but it blocked out some of the noise. Dave was trying to comfort Rio, make him feel better. They were kind words, but not ones that Rio could accept at the moment. He wiped at his face with the sleeve of his hoodie and straightened back up. “I’m fine. Just a few scratches. I’m really sorry though. I wanted to get you out of here without any more damage. Guess I kinda failed on that mark.”

“Why’re you apologising?” Dave asked, rubbing his eyes. The cuts along his body stung in the cold air, but these sortsa things happened. He looked at the two dead cockatrices, wondering if they all had hatched from the same nest. Wondered if there was more of them coming. He put his hand against another tree, and didn’t feel anything else nearby, but without fog nor rain, it wasn’t that easy. “Hey, hey, c’mon now. You’re shaken up, I get it, but you didn’t control them things. You can’t blame yourself for us getting jumped. We’re alive, that isn’t failing. It’s the opposite.” He pat Orion gruffly on his back, and began walking haltingly them back out of the woods, holding his side where he’d been scratched up. “You’re alright, kid.” Strong as hell too, but Dave didn’t comment on that just yet.

“Sorry. It’s- I don’t know.” Orion rarely had a good reason to apologize. He seemed to be apologetic towards everything. Like being in his presence was inherently a burden. He knew that wasn’t true anymore. He had been around enough kindness and love now to know that he wasn’t uselessly taking up space. Still, the habit was hard to break. “I was supposed to help you. I ended up needing your help.” Rio tried to rationalize his mood, explain the thought process to Dave. Now didn’t seem like a great time. When Dave patted Rio on the back, a small grin began growing across the boy’s face. “Yeah. Sorry. You’re right.” Rio made a quick attempt to pull himself together, slowly walking over to the dead creature and unwrapping his denim jacket from its knotted position around the creature’s head. Probably a goner, but he didn’t want to just leave it tied around the poor creature. “Thank you. For helping. You’re pretty cool too.” Never one to know how to express his emotions normally, Rio opted for a thumbs up to distract from his blushing. “Are you good to walk. You can lean against me while we get you back out of the woods.”

“Ain’t nothing wrong in needing help. I just did.” Dave replied wrily, shaking his head. “Cool, huh?” Dave scoffed with a chuckle, even more tickled by the thumbs up. He took hold of Rio’s arm. “Let’s call this just in case,” he said with a wry smile, slowly walking them out of the woods. He wanted to know more about this strangely strong and strangely innocent Scribling, but covered in blood and in need of sleep was not the best time to ask. “We’re near my van. You good to get yourself home or do you need a ride?”

The walk to his van wasn’t far from where they had been. If things had only been slightly different, perhaps Dave and Orion could have made it without ever having run into those two extra creatures. But as it was, Rio couldn’t change the outcome for this anymore than he could for the troll that had been killed. Was he just supposed to accept this as the circle of life? It was supposed to be natural, but Rio still couldn’t think about it without a pit forming in his stomach. The extra pressure of Dave leaning against him didn’t had too much strain as they finished their journey out of the woods. Rio tried to be extra careful of twigs or roots to make sure he didn’t send them both stumbling, but he had no trouble supporting the man. The selkie was clearly trained to fight, and Rio had no doubt that he was smart enough to know what a hunter was. Rio had played those cards. Yet Dave hadn’t called him on it yet. “No, I’m not too far from here. I’ll be fine.” Rio signed, pulling his bag off of his back and digging through it. He eventually pulled out a notepad and scribbled his contact information on it before ripping the page free and holding it out to Dave. “Just in case you need anything, let me know okay? It was nice to meet you. Despite all the violence.”

#para #chatzy #rio #medical blood tw #s OFT

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whump-town · 3 years

Text

It’s A Wonderful Life

Part one. Part two. Part three. Part four.

Warning: talking about child abuse

Fluorescent white is harsh.

The ones in the police station when his mother tried to run away the first time had irritated his eyes. Laying on his back, head cushioned by a deputy’s winter jacket, he’d gotten the idea to save himself from this mess. He spent the night on that station floor, while his mother pleaded for something to be done, staring long and hard at the lights. Waiting until he couldn’t stand the pain from his eyes being open for so long before blinking. He’d hoped to blind himself, aimed for it in the hopes that he would earn a fraction of goodwill from his father.

He didn’t need to be told that he and his mother would be going back to that house tonight.

Three months later, his father put him in the hospital for the first time. Despite the pressure across his chest, the pain of each breathe, he’d shivered harshly. Those blinding lights and white walls sucking the warmth from the room-- but maybe it had nothing to do with the hospital and the realization, at eight, that his father would rather see him dead than deal with him.

But for two hours, Aaron remembered what it was like to have a father. More crisp than the pain stabbing through his body, the chest tube wedged into his thin chest was his father’s commanding figure. The way his mother had moved to place herself between them until she saw his true motive.

He remembers his father soothing his out-of-mind whimpers, brushing his bangs from his face with a gentle knuckle. Gently, a nurse moving wires and keeping them from being tangled, his father had cradled him to his chest. “Easy. You’re okay now, baby.” It had been so hard to breathe, despite the oxygen canal under his nose. But he’d fallen asleep there with his father’s large flannel pulled over him like a blanket.

At least that hospital stay earned him a month of reprieve-- he’d been on blood thinners, inhalers, and way too much medicine for a child. His father couldn’t beat him, though, because he might not have been any use to the man but a funeral is more expensive than just leaving him be.

In his ninth-grade year, his father hit him so hard that a blood vessel burst in his eye. The light had been red. The nurse who put three stitches into his chin whispered a soft chide at him for fighting boys at school but there was something about her that still makes him think she knew. She let him sleep for four hours, fed him as many sandwiches as he could stand, and sent him home with jello stuffed into the pockets of his jeans.

There were fluorescent lights in the coroner’s office. The first time he’d ever seen a dead body-- his own father.

From there the lights lose meaning.

Getting mugged in college and cracking two ribs getting the shit kicked out of him when they realized he had no money. Breaking the metacarpals in his right hand punching somebody’s too drunk boyfriend-- he only remembers the blinding pain and a boy and Haley dragging him to the hospital a day later. Breaking more ribs in the academy falling off an obstacle, they called him brittle bones for the rest of training and they were right. Getting shot, too many times to count there. Being knocked unconscious, strangled, and beaten. Being blown up not once, not twice, but now three times. And… Foyet.

It seems as if he’ll never get a reprieve from their harsh downpour. Maybe he never will.

“I can’t let you all back there.” A doctor and a nurse meet them at the doors of the intensive care unit, the only thing separating them sitting numbly in the waiting room from Hotch. He’s already so close, they can feel it stirring something foreign in them. Maybe it’s the sort of raw thing that Hotch normally abates in them, soothes and calms long before they can truly feel it.

Dave leads them into the hospital.

Garcia clutches Morgan’s hand, following close on his heels, and trying to keep her eyes on the floor. Afraid that if she looks up she might start sobbing and she knows if she does start crying, she will not stop. Morgan lets her, he needs something else to focus on. Her cold hand squeezing his painfully tight works numbers.

JJ tries to speak with Reid and Emily but neither even attempts to try with a response.

“The best I can do is… five minutes, in pairs.”

Emily looks up from the floor, showing her own first signs of life. “I’ll go.” She goes alone.

JJ with go with Reid. Morgan with Garcia. Privileged with power of attorney, Rossi will get to stay. She tries not to think too hard about how that was once her. Before she ruined everything with Doyle, she was his power of attorney. Now Dave has to decide if he’s got enough fight left in him to keep going.

There’s blood all over his face. It’s caked under his nose and left to coagulate along his hairline. There’s so much it makes her stomach twist and she feels tears slip down her face despite the control she wishes to exude.

Emily sniffles, wiping the back of her hand under her nose hard. Unable to forgive herself for this blatant demonstration of emotion and unwilling to stop for just a moment and really think about what is happening. About the things that have happened today while she was fucking off at her desk. “Can we--” she clears her throat harshly. Forcing her shoulder’s back and stealing her voice she tries again. “Do you have a rag? I’d like to get the blood off his face.”

A nurse, standing right at the door in case Emily does get overwhelmed, nods. She’d expected to have to hold the women or offer some sort of false promise in a hopeful prognosis but the brunette agent just turns her back and regards her friend a little closer.

She’d seen him after Foyet. Seen him. Drugged out of his mind and numbly, nearly dissociated, from the nurses changing his bandages. It had hurt to see him so… he couldn’t even be there, mentally, to stand it.

“Here you go,” the nurse comes back. “Don’t touch the stitches and be careful--”

“I know.” She does, really, know what the nurse is going to say. She’s cleaned her own wounds and some of the others. She knows what to do. The important thing, right now, is cleaning him up so that the others don’t see it. The blood up and down him, he’s covered in it. It’s safer, better if they see him like he’s Hotch.

She’s hesitant to actually touch him but her time is dwindling down. Wiping at his eyebrow, she tries to think of something to say. Mindless. “Reid swears that there is some proven bullshit study--” the washcloth trembles in her hand. “I don’t know, I--I didn’t listen to him, to be honest.” An admission that would earn her a stern frown if… if he were here. But he’s not. “I think he’s just bluffing,” she admits. “I also don’t think if you had a choice, you’d want to listen to any of the sappy crap any of those nuts have to say.”

She didn’t want to, she didn’t even want to see him, but no one was moving and no one was speaking. So, she’d taken the doctor’s bait and agreed to go back first. Someone has to, it’s not a big deal. They look after one another-- she and Hotch hate each other’s guts most of the time but she always has his back. She always looks after him. Now is no exception.

The blood comes off and her time runs out.

“W--Wait!” She forces herself to take his hand, cold and rough, in her own. “Aaron,” his name feels wrong in her mouth but she’d been Emily for ages and it’s desperate but she’s terrified she’ll never have another chance. “Don’t you die, you son of a bitch. Please don’t die.”

Her legs carry her out of the building, only half-aware of the words Dave is communicating. They can come back in the morning (but she remembers what the doctor said about him surviving the night) and that Jack is staying overnight just to be sure.

Right. “Okay.” She’ll be back in the morning.

On a night not quite unlike this one, JJ had taken Emily home. To the home that she and Will were still renovating and whose walls were never truly silenced no matter the hours-- night or day. It had been exactly what Emily needed to get the hell away from all that overwhelming silence.

Will made them peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and tipsy from her wine Emily commended his skill. Obviously, JJ was doing something here, picking him, and Henry really lucked out. That was the best peanut butter and jelly sandwich she’s ever had (he sent her home the next morning with three more and even refrigerated they were amazing).

That night, JJ took Emily back to her closet and showed her the secret wardrobe-- full of clothes she’s stealthily stolen from their friends over the years. A soft green sweater that still smelled like Gideon, JJ informs her he pulled it over her head one chilly morning when they were in DC. They laughed sadly together, remembering Gideon’s very unique approach to affection. He never really hit his mark, did he? He was an odd one alright.

The real stash is in the back. Not the outrageous amounts of sweaters Garcia sends her home with-- always an excuse to go get new ones. It’s for the Morgan and Hotch memorabilia. It’s no secret the two of them will fork over anything you ask for-- fries, a pickle, an extra shirt, mittens, their coats. No, the hard part is giving those material items back.

“Jesus,” Emily hisses, looking at her friend with wide eyes. “And those are all from Hotch?” JJ had opened a shoebox full of gloves ranging in color and thickness.

JJ looks nearly ashamed as she nods. “He’s always leaving them everywhere!” she defends. Most do come from her finding them in random places he’s set them down and just walked away. One pair did come directly from his jacket pockets. He’d draped his peacoat over her like a blanket and she’d dug around for a piece of the hard candy he always keeps on his person and found them.

He used to lose so many pairs JJ used to wonder if Haley even bothered to get angry with him. She was frustrated and she didn’t have to go buy his big dumb butt a new pair.

“What’s your excuse for the shirts?”

The rule of shirts is you ask Morgan. Reid is a size small in t-shirts and when they already steal Hotch’s candy, scarves, and gloves they leave him his shirts… unless he offers first. Morgan always has one large, at least, in his bag. He is a medium but sometimes he just has to style a slightly larger shirt.

And JJ has an impressive amount of men’s mediums shirts-- the black, blues and one green shirt are all Morgan. The white ones are Hotch.

Emily had borrowed one of JJ’s Morgan shirts and slept on the couch. She’d laid awake just a little after they’d all gone their separate ways thinking about the impossibility that she’ll ever have JJ’s problem. They just don’t like her like that.

Tonight, Emily is dipping into her own reserve.

When she was ready to go into Witsec, Hotch gave her his button-down. Her own wouldn’t fit because of all the layers of gauze. She’d been the point of tears with aggravation over this and startled when he gently closed his hands over her own. She can loosely remember crying into his shoulder, shaking with fear. She was afraid, not mad at her stupid t-shirt.

She was terrified she’d never seen any of them again and he’d felt the same.

“Haley hand-made Jack this bear out of some of my old shirts,” he tells her. It feels like he’s taken a hot serrated blade and drug it from hip-to-hip, barring himself for her to see. “He sleeps with it every night.” He leaves out the obvious-- that she’d been afraid he’d die and Jack would forget him and that he now he wishes he’d done the same with her old shirts.

Emily startles when he moves to undo the buttons on her shirt but she lets him. Watching as he tugs his own off his shoulders. The two making eye-contact as he hesitantly guides her arms into his larger shirt. It’s stupidly large but doesn’t hurt to sit across her stomach.

“Thank you,” she whispers.

He shakes his head, lowers his gaze, and moves back.

For the months she was away, she could understand why Jack would cling to that bear. When that old shirt stopped smelling like him she locked herself in the tiny bathroom of her apartment, sat in her bathtub with her knees drawn to her chest. Was that her last tie to them? They’re slipping out of her grip, gone. Is that what she felt like to them too? A ghost.

That old shirt made it through a lot and two weeks after she came home she brought it back to him. The worn fabric clutched in both her hands.

“I can give you another if you’d like.”

He gave her three more and, as it turns out, he has so many. It’s a problem. After so many washes the fabric is too thin or Jack stained it with some food or dirt or any number of things.

Now she has an obscene amount and, if she leaves them long enough, they make the back of her closet smell like Hotch. So, despite how ridiculous it must make her, she sits in the back of her closet and buries her face in one of those old shirts.

Why can’t just one year go by with no life-or-death experiences?

“-- I heard David Bowe,” Garcia says to seemingly no one but he knows she’s speaking to him. Of course, she’d hold on when everyone else knows it’s time to give up. “Heroes,” she sighs, shaking her head. “I hope you can hear us, Hotch. Please come home.” Her thumb worries with the back of his hand, rubbing his knuckles. “I really miss you and--” her voice cracks.

That’s a stupid thing to say, she realizes. She saw him yesterday! They talked about the cafeteria running out of blueberry muffins and she’d apologized because she hadn’t thought to grab him one. But today she brought him one to the office. Thought it would make his Wednesday even better.

Guess not.

“It’s okay.” Morgan pulls her to his side, rubbing her back. He just looks at Hotch. Bruised up and down, exposed to them from the waist up. Morgan could fill in what he assumed Hotch’s scars looked like but now he knows. He doesn’t even know what to say.

Garcia presses a kiss to his forehead, a hot tear sliding down her face as she regards him for one more moment. A bitter smile twisted onto his lips as she spots his elusive white eyelash. Emily hates that thing. “I love you, Hotch.”

Morgan… takes his hand. Rubbing his thumb up Hotch’s knuckles. “Don’t leave,” he whispers, glancing at Garcia. Glad that she at least pretends not to hear. “I don’t want your job, Aaron. I don’t want to learn it. I don’t want the fucking paperwork or the--” his cracks and he pulls in a shuddering breath. Laughing at the tears that sting his eyes. “I won’t do it, do you hear me? So… come back, okay? Get better because you have to.”

There aren’t any other options.

Despite the childhood he endured, Aaron has only ever met one caseworker. He did go to college with a few who would eventually get there but, for the most part, he stayed the hell away from everyone in the psych department. The very last thing he needed was getting near those trigger-happy morons less he walks away slapped with a new label. And with them, it’s impossible to tell what that might be.

He does know one thing-- if profilers ride the line then caseworkers are like g-strings right up the asscrack. No offense, both annoy him. He works with profilers, they’re the worst. Most days he wavers into hating those bastards. Caseworkers… another example of people whose entire job it is to get into people’s lives and see the dirty stuff.

His entire life, all he’s learned to do is hide the dirty stuff.

It’s hard to be exposed.

So, maybe he should have befriended a caseworker or two. All that dirt, all that shit piles up until it’s hard to tell any of it apart. He can’t tell if he’s even real anymore-- sometimes he spends so much time trying to be normal that he can’t remember how to be Aaron. Old favorites feel like nothing. Books with words that once held him together at the broken, singed pieces of himself now are numb. Meaningless.

Just like him.

Leaving behind him, in his nothingness. Covered in scars and ugly.

Ruined.

“Agent Hotchner! I need you to calm down.”

Those fucking lights. He hates fluorescent lightbulbs.

“We have a machine breathing for you,” the doctor explains calmly. He flashes a penlight in both of his patient’s eyes. “Your lungs are healing. We’re going to put you back under, okay? Your team, Agent Rossi, is right outside. Your son Jack is safe. Get some rest Agent Hotchner, you’ve got a hard night ahead of you.”

Fuck. He’d just wanted them to turn the lights off. His vision hazes over and he fights once more against the obstruction in his throat before the world sinks into the inky black once again.

#criminal minds #aaron hotchner #emily prentiss #david rossi #spencer reid #jennifer jareau #penelope garcia #derek morgan #hotch whump

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poisxnyouth · 5 years

Text

hs!david chapter 2. (d.d)

A/N: perhaps we went off... -hailey

@idkdobrik

WC: 9,895 words

Warnings: weed, drinking, slight noncon (nothing comes of it, though)

You had believed things would turn weird between you and David, that normal things would become oddly intimate and awkward. You surely hoped it wouldn’t, but fucking your best friend of several years isn’t exactly a normal thing and it’s definitely not an easy thing to adjust to. You deeply hoped he wouldn’t regret it, because you certainly didn’t, and if you were being honest with yourself: you definitely wanted to do it again.

You’re woken by a smack over the head, a dainty hand slapping harshly across your forehead.

“Ow!” you groan, looking up to see Natalie standing over you.

“I just got back from dropping my sisters off, but I’m heading out again in a minute,” she says, completely ignoring the fact she’d just beat you while you were sleeping, “I’ve got to go shopping and pick some stuff up for tonight. Do you need anything?”

“No, I don’t think so - thank you, though,” you reply, mood quickly changing, “But you bitch! Why the fuck did you hit me? You couldn’t have said ‘Hey, Y/N, get up!’?” Natalie laughs, rolling her eyes and shrugging slightly. You see David on the other couch, rolling onto his back and smacking his forearm over his eyes, blocking the light.

“Is it absolutely necessary for you guys to be yelling right now? Jesus. I’m tired as fuck.”

You grab the pillow from under your head and throw it at him, his face twisting in disgust at the move. He chucks it back at you, pulling his blanket into his chest and mumbling a Fuck you, you bitch.

“Anyways, as I was saying,” Natalie begins and you turn your attention back to her, laughing softly. “I’m about to leave again, and I’ll probably be gone for a few hours. You guys can stay here if you want, but don’t burn the place down. I’ll be back in time for all of us to get ready together.”

You and David share a look you’re not exactly sure how to describe, eyes cutting away from each other before you nod at Natalie and ensure her you two will be good. She nods and turns, grabbing her keys from the kitchen counter and waving half-heartedly behind her, yelling a “See you guys later! Love you!” and disappearing before you hear the shutting of her front door.

You grab your phone from beside you and check the time, realizing that you’d slept in a lot later than you’d intended. You sigh, tossing your phone onto the bland carpeted floor and rolling onto your stomach, arms wrapped around your pillow.

After coming to the conclusion you were too awake to even attempt falling asleep again, you reach for your phone once more, absentmindedly scrolling through social media, liking pictures and replying to people’s texts.

You had thought David had fell back to sleep when Natalie left, but when you look over, he’s laying on his side, eyes nervously flitting between you and his phone. You’d catch him, every now and then, eyeing you and looking away quickly - an attempt to pretend he hadn’t been caught.

“Stop staring, freak. Didn’t your mom ever teach you staring is rude?” you tease.

“Don’t flatter yourself, sweetheart,” he laughs as he rolls over onto his side, facing your direction.

“Oh my god, babybabybaby stop. I’m seriously about to bust,” you mimic, David rolling his eyes and scoffing.

“Please cum for me, Davey. I wanna be good for you,” he mocks in response, “Oh, how about, ‘David, please let me see it. I wanna see it. I just want you inside of me.’”

You can think of no response, rolling your eyes and scoffing as you fall into a comfortable silence, both of you absentmindedly scrolling through your phones.

You look down at the dark hickey at the top of your tit, asking David, “What does yours look like?”

“My what? Oh.” He looks down at his own, pulling the skin back for a better view and shrugging lightly, “It’s not too bad.”

“I don’t know how you didn’t start bleeding. Let me see,” you move from your spot on your couch over to him, sitting on the edge of his couch next to his reclined form and pushing the neckline of his t-shirt back. “Damn. Sorry.”

David shrugs, “It’s fine. Hurt like hell when you did it, though. Let me see yours.” He sits up, hands hovering over yours as you pull the neck and cup of your bra down slightly.

“Shit,” he exclaims, fingertips brushing over the skin, gently moving to replace your hands. He meets your eyes briefly before he looks at the dark spot once more, head dropping. You feel his mouth envelop you, sucking harshly, teeth scraping the skin slightly as your fingers thread through his hair.

You tug tightly on the strands and pull him up and off of you, “David!”

“What?” He doesn’t look at you, eyes watching his hands as they grope your tits.

“Don’t make it worse!”

“Why?” Dave asks obliviously, “I like it that way.”

“Someone will notice tonight! You can probably see it when I wear my dress. We’re gonna have to cover them before Nat sees - you know that, right?” He looks down at his own, shrugging lightly.

“It’s fine, Y/N - look, just say you got dick last night. It’s not like they’ll know it was me, mine’s hidden. Just leave it.”

You scoff and move off of him as he chuckles lightly and shakes his head at you, moving to grab his phone.

“She’s not stupid, she’ll know,” you snap, shuffling to the kitchen to sort through Nat’s cupboards in search of something to aide the severity of the marks. He groans loudly, laying back against the arm of the couch. You grab an ice cube from the freezer, holding it to the bruised spot and scrolling through your phone. Once it’s melted, you grab another one and move back to the living room, dropping yourself in David’s lap.

He yelps in surprise, hands moving to your waist. You push the neck of his t-shirt away and hold the ice cube to his collarbone, causing him to shriek.

“What the fuck, Y/N!”

“Jesus, Dave, you can’t even handle an ice cube, huh? Good to know.”

“You can’t even take my dick,” he shoots back, laughing as you scoff and hit his shoulder.

You can’t think of a response quick enough before his fingers find your hair and tugs softly, tipping your head back gently as he sits up straighter. You moan quietly and he smirks, fully aware of the effect he has on you. As his free hand runs gently up and down your bare thigh, he uses the one in your hair as leverage, kissing down your neck as you begin to speak.

“I could have taken it…But you - you wouldn’t let me,” you stutter, grinding against as his hands leave your thighs and hair to quickly grip your ass.

“You think you can?” he challenges, moving your hair out of your face and looking into your eyes. You nod in his hold.

“I know I can,” you attest, eager to prove yourself to him.

“Show me, Y/N,” he whispers, long fingers wrapping around your neck and squeezing lightly. His free hand toys with the waistband of your shorts, fingers creeping along the edges and pulling.

You shudder as his hot breath hits your ear, suddenly becoming impatient as you feel yourself getting wetter by the second. At this point, you were practically leaning into his touch without even realizing, causing him to scoff.

“You can’t even go 12 hours without wanting more, huh Y/N?” he sighs, seemingly disappointed as he moves his hand closer to your pussy, sliding further down the front of your shorts. “Didn’t I say you’d be back? Huh, baby? Didn’t think it’d be so soon, though...”

“Please, David,” you whine as you don’t even attempt to bicker with him, barely able to form a sentence.

“You’re so needy,” he tuts, shaking his head and pushing your hair out of your face, pressing a wet, quick kiss to your lips before pushing you to lay on your back, pulling your shorts and underwear off together. He didn’t want to waste any more time than he needs to; you were out in the open and Natalie would be home soon enough.

He wants to go down on you, it’s all he wants, but he needs to take his time with it: time you currently don’t possess.

You’re losing your patience, squirming under his touch as he pushes your shirt up and off you. He moves off of the couch to grab another condom from his bag and you begin to roll your eyes, stopping when he gives you a stern look and kisses you quickly, a silent reminder of who you’re messing with.

It doesn’t take long for him to push his shorts past his hips and be lined up, slowly pushing into you. You throw your head back, letting out a moan you don’t recognize as your own, fingers digging into his shoulders. He takes a moment to glance between you, ensuring you’re okay before he completely bottoms out, hips stilling.

“Fuck,” He mumbles, dropping his head to your chest. He pauses to let you adjust, breathing slowly. You focus on a certain spot on the ceiling, trying your best not to cry as you attempt to pull him closer.

“Holy shit. Holy fucking shit, baby,” David spews, pushing his torso off of you to focus his gaze on you. You hear him, not fully comprehending his words as you feel him grab your hand, placing it on your lower stomach and feeling a small mound underneath your fingers.

“You feel that? Feel how deep I am?”

You lift your hand and look down, looking back at the ceiling and gasping.

“Holy fuck, David,” you whisper, moving your hand to the back of his neck. You’re squeezing around him so hard he nearly collapses on top of you, one hand moving to rest beside your head, holding himself up.

“Baby, relax. I’ve got you, I promise.” His hand rests on your cheek, running his thumb along your cheekbone and hushing you when you begin quietly whimpering. He gently kisses away the tears that slip out of the corners of your eyes when he slowly pulls out and pushes back in.

“Davey, it hurts,” you mumble, digging your nails deeper into the back of his neck and pulling him closer.

“I know, baby. I know. D’you want me to stop?”

You quickly shake your head, because as much as it hurts, you trust him and trust the process. You felt truly comfortable with him, and you knew he didn’t only care about himself. He took his time with you, paying attention to how your body responded to him and uses it to make you feel good; he cares about you, and it shows.

Your thoughts are cut off when he attaches his lips to yours, swallowing your moans as he starts thrusting slowly. He kisses down your neck, hand gripping your thigh.

“Are you okay, baby?” He asks, holding your face to look at him. Your eyes flutter, vision blurred with tears. You nod, sniffling and leaning up, kissing him sloppily.

“Can I-,” His voice sounds pained, evident of his attempt to keep himself together.

“Yes, please, Davey, go,” you breath out, legs tightening around his waist. His hips start moving faster, a string of profanities leaving his lips.

Your phone on the carpet begins ringing, Dave groaning and stopping his movements, running a hand through his hair.

“Just ignore it,” you hiss, trying to buck your hips up to meet his. He looks down at your phone and sighs.

“It’s Nat,” he points out, allowing you to grab it from the ground and answer it.

“Hey,” you greet her, trying your best not to sound annoyed.

“Hey, how’s it going? Is the house still in tact?” You laugh at her question, David grunting softly at the feeling.

“Of course. What’s up?”

“I just got done with my nails and I’m at the liquor store with Jackson’s sister. Do you want Tito’s or Fireball?”

You’re about to answer when David begins to move his hips again, hands on your waist. You look up at him, eyes wide, and he smirks before mouthing keep talking.

“Um…” you close your eyes, attempting to focus on your words and not David’s movements. “Sorry, what were the options again? David’s being an asshole.”

“Tito’s or Fireball?” she repeats, oblivious to your struggle.

“Dave says Tito’s,” you manage to say, moving your hand up to bite your finger.

“Okay! You brought your flask, right?”

“Yes, ma’am, I did.”

“Cool. I’ll be home in 15, love you!”

“Loveyoutoo,” you hang up immediately after the words leave your mouth, throwing your phone back onto the floor, not caring where it landed. You’re about to smack David and call him an asshole but before you can, he begins moving his hips faster and drops a hand between you to rub your clit.

“We don’t have a lot of time, baby, so I need you to cum now,” he demands. You nod and whimper under his touch, knowing you wouldn’t be able to get a word out if you tried.

“C’mon, Y/N, please,” he moves his hand from your clit and pushes down on your lower stomach. “I need you to cum for me.”

You throw your head back against the couch, digging your nails into his shoulder so hard you nearly break the skin. You clench around him until he can barely move, David finishing right after and brushing the hair out of your face, pressing a quick, messy kiss to your lips.

“Alright, we gotta get ready quick before Nat gets here,” he says, pushing himself off of you and removing the condom, tying it up and pulling his shorts back up his hips. He moves to his bag and digs hurriedly through it, pulling out a hoodie and heading to the bathroom. You still feel spaced out and want to just lay there, but you know if Natalie comes home to find you half naked on her couch, you’re gonna have some explaining to do.

You manage to limp to your bag, grabbing a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie and pulling them on before giving up entirely. You allow yourself to drop to the floor, unable to stay balanced on your legs which were now beginning to cramp up. David comes out of the bathroom to see you sitting on the carpet, looking at him helplessly.

“Baby, you gotta-.“

“My legs hurt, I can’t walk,” you pout, beginning to panic slightly because Natalie would be home any minute. David runs his hand through his hair and sighs.

“Fuck. Okay, just...go upstairs and sit down and start doing your makeup or something. Can you get up the stairs?” He scrambles over to you, pulling you to your feet. You hold onto his shoulders for stability, nodding your head.

“I think so.” He gives you another brief kiss, tapping your ass softly before turning you to the staircase, watching as you hobble up the steps.

David grabs his phone and throws himself onto the couch in an attempt to make it look like he’d been sitting there when he hears the front door being unlocked. Natalie walks in, bags in her hands and shuts the door with her foot.

“Hey, Dave,” she says, setting the bags on the counter.

“Hey!”

“Where’s Y/N?” She asks, scrolling through her phone.

“Upstairs.”

“Is she getting ready?”

“I think so?”

Natalie stuffs her phone back into her pocket and shuffles to the stairs. “Good, we have to take pictures before we start drinking. C’mon.”

He follows her up the stairs and into her room where you’re already sitting on the floor in front of her mirror. Your eyes quickly meet in the reflection, David looking away almost immediately.

David lays in bed on his phone while you and Nat get ready, quietly making conversation with Dave chiming in every once in a while.

“Nat, can you help me up?” You ask casually, finishing your makeup before her. She drops her mascara and helps you from your spot on the floor, squeezing your hands tighter when you stumble a bit.

“Woah, you alright?”

You laugh, “Yeah, my legs just fell asleep.” Brushing it off, you grab your dress from Nat’s closet. “I’m gonna go change.”

Once you’re in the bathroom with the door locked, you hang your dress up on the hook and pull your hoodie off, admiring how good of a job you’d done at covering up the hickey on your tit. You wondered if you should try to cover up David’s, ultimately deciding not to bother as his clothes would cover it.

You walk back into Natalie’s room, her replacing you in the bathroom, with your sweats and hoodie in one arm, other holding your dress to your chest to ensure it wouldn’t fall off of you. Your dress is a two piece, and you’d been able to zip up the skirt easily but you hadn’t been able to do the top. You had given up trying, throwing your clothes on Natalie’s floor.

“Zip me up?” David stands from the bed, tossing his phone onto the mattress and you turn, holding your hair up and out of the way while he zips up the back of your dress, patting your hip to let you know you were good.

“Baby, you look great,” he compliments in a murmur as you turn around, hands moving south to push up your skirt, quickly grabbing your ass and pressing a kiss to your neck. You push him away as he giggles quietly, hands leaving you.

“Nat, you almost ready?” You ask, Natalie mumbling out a vague response somewhere along the lines of not yet.

“I’m gonna go change, come with me,” David orders. You obey and follow, letting Natalie know you were going downstairs with him.

David goes off to get dressed and walks into the kitchen as you fill your flask, careful not to spill any vodka on the counter. As soon as you screw it closed, you take tape you’d found in one of the junk drawers and hand it to David along with the flask, hiking up your dress and sticking your leg out. He kneels in front of you, wrapping the tape around your leg and strapping the flask to your thigh. Once he’s sure it’s secure, he squeezes the back of your thigh and looks up at you, eyes meeting yours as he leaves a soft kiss on the skin just below the tape.

“You look so good,” he compliments. You laugh, feeling your cheeks turn pink, pulling him up to his feet.

“You too, Davey,” you fix his tie, rolling your eyes as he lifts you up onto the counter.

“What are you doing? Stop!” you laugh as his hand slides up your thigh under your skirt, his lips on your neck.

“I can't keep my hands off of you, baby.”

He pushes you to lay back and you give him a confused look, eyebrows scrunched together.

“I need a shot.” He pulls your skirt down just enough to reveal your bellybutton and grabs the opened bottle of vodka, pouring it into your navel. You squeal as he dips his head down and laps at the alcohol, your fingers tangling in his hair. He begins to nip at the skin just above and you have to pull his head away, sitting up to stop him from leaving a mark. You hear Natalie walking around upstairs and you quickly push David back, jumping off the counter and fixing your skirt.

You’re scrambling around the kitchen looking for something to busy yourself with so Nat’s not suspicious when she comes downstairs, ending up grabbing stuff out of the fridge to make a sandwich. You’re not even hungry, but you know you should still eat; drinking on an empty stomach only turns out bad for you in the end. You’re cutting it in half and handing one half to David when she walks down the steps.

She does a dramatic spin at the bottom, flipping her hair over-enthusiastically. You applaud and cheer her on.

“You look hot!” you say, laughing loudly when she bows.

You take a decent amount of pictures, and between the three of you, drank the rest of the vodka you hadn’t poured into your flask. You weren’t too drunk when you left the house and walked to school, but about an hour into the dance you were completely off the wall.

You had spent some time in the hallway with David, passing your flask back and forth when Natalie had stumbled up to you. She had said something about leaving with a guy and how she’d see you guys at Ilya’s party later, but you hadn’t been listening entirely. You and Dave told her to have fun, taking a few more shots before tucking the flask back into the tape on your thigh.

You were drunk enough it didn’t feel wrong being close to David in public. You told yourself you and him are friends, and you didn’t think that people would be too concerned seeing two friends almost hugging in the corner. You were entirely wrong.

Dima immediately became confused when he saw you and David talking against one of the walls; something which wasn’t anything out of the ordinary, until he noticed how touchy you were. He thought he had somehow interpreted it wrong as he watched from a corner, talking with Ilya. He knew you were drunk, that was to be expected, but you grabbing David by the back of the neck and trying to hug him closer peaked his interest, ultimately deciding to go check on you and David.

“Dimaaaaaa!” You throw yourself off the wall as soon as you spot him and hug him, arms thrown over his shoulders. He laughs, gripping your arms to ensure you wouldn’t fall.

“How’s it going? Are you okay?”

You wrap an arm around his neck and mumble a response that vaguely sounds like I’m great, causing the the two boys to snicker.

“Are you guys going to Il’s party?”

“Yeah, we might leave soon actually. Y/N needs to sober up a bit before we head over.”

“Hey! For your information,” you point a finger at David, tapping him on the nose. “I am perfectly fine.”

He simply laughs and shakes his head as you break away from Dima, ending his taunting.

“I’ll see you guys later, then.”

“Bye Diiiiiiima!” You ruffle his hair before he walks off, leaving you and David back with your own devices against the wall. Dima still keeps an eye on you as your fingers tangle into Dave’s hair, pulling him closer into you.

Not soon after, David encourages you to leave with him the louder you seem the get.

You stagger as you’re walking off of school grounds, nearly tripping over your own feet as you walked.

“Baby, get on on my back,” David demands, stopping in his tracks.

“What? No! I am not that drunk,” you insist, words slurring as he rolls his eyes and takes it upon himself to pull you onto his back.

“You’re swaying and stumbling, Y/N. It’s fine. I’ve got you.” You give in to him, arms draping around his neck and dropping your head to rest it on his shoulder.

“You’re so drunk, baby,” David chuckles, adjusting his grip on your thighs as he walks.

“No, I’m not!” you refuse, your elbows pushing yourself up by his shoulders.

“If you weren’t, I wouldn’t be carrying you home.” You ignore him, head bending down to kiss at his neck. You begin sloppily sucking and nipping at the skin, working over it with your teeth.

“Baby, don’t -.”

“Shut up, Davey.” He sighs, leaving you to work in peace as he walks.

You break the silence a few minutes later, staring at your work illuminated by the streetlights, “Aw. Pretty.” David scoffs in response, shaking his head.

“What? You didn't want it?” You ask, whine evident in your voice as you bury your head in his shoulder.

“I know I’ll like it, but you won’t when you’re sober. You’ll want me to wear hoodies until it’s gone.”

“Noooooo,” you defy, “You look pretty with marks! I want people to see.”

“Thank you, baby, but I know you’ll want me to hide it. Especially from Natalie.”

“I like when you call me that,” you admit, changing the subject and ignoring his comment, “It makes me feel special!” David dips his head, lips planting on your forearm in a sloppy, affectionate kiss.

“But it’s not fair!” you continue, complaining and preening against his grip, “You call me baby and I don’t have anything to call you except your name.”

“Then what do you wanna call me, baby? Whatever you want, I promise.” He stops and adjusts his grip on you once more, gently pushing up the tulle underneath your dress for a better hold before continuing.

“Ummm…” you ponder, burying your head in his neck and pressing your lips against the skin, breathing in his cheap cologne. “Daddy? Is that okay?”

David chokes on his spit at the word, coughing as he walks. His voice cracks slightly, “Yeah. Totally, baby.”

“Okay, daddy!” His stomach twists at your muttered response as you go quiet, eyes fluttering closed as you continue to breathe his scent in.

“Daddy?” you question timidly a few minutes later, “Do you think we’re gonna end up dating?”

“Honestly, I haven’t really thought about it, baby.”

“Oh. Well...do you think I’m cute?”

“I think you’re beautiful,” he says, feeling you grip him tighter and pull him closer, cheeks heating up against his neck.

“Really?”

“Yes, babygirl. So beautiful.”

“Oh. Thank you, Davey,” you say, thanking him once more in the form of a kiss at the nape of his neck.

“You should know you're beautiful, baby.”

An uneasy noise escapes your throat in denial of his sentence, changing the subject and asking him, “Would you even want to date me?”

“I don’t know, Y/N.”

“Is it ‘cause I’ve dated a lot of guys? I don’t even count them ‘cause I never legit love them and they don’t even treat me good but I guess I deserve it...I dunno...I wanna fall in loooooove, Davey, you know? I just wanna always feel good with a guy, like, never have to doubt my worth or anything,” you drunkenly blab, eyes closed as you mutter quietly against his skin.

“Hey, don’t say that. That’s not why I don’t know if I’d date you. It’s just ‘cause we’re so close. And what do you mean they don’t treat you well? You don’t deserve that shit,” Dave attempts to comfort you, thumbs beginning to rub affectionately at your thighs as he continues to walk.

“I mean…when you’re a slut-.”

“Stop it, baby,” his voice goes stern, eyebrows knitting together at your words.

“They kinda treat you like one.” David sighs, not sure what else to say.

“Y’know, I didn’t break up with Jordan because of the sex,” you blurt a few seconds later, catching David off guard.

“What? What do you mean?”

“I broke up with him ‘cause he said I’m a whore and I don’t deserve to be loved.”

David stops, gently dropping you back to your feet and turning to look at you. You stumble a bit before catching your balance, gripping the front of his dress shirt to stable yourself.

“Why didn’t you tell me that?” He asks, hurt evident in his voice. You shrug, fixing the strap of your dress that had started to fall down your shoulder as he had carried you.

“Dunno...guess I was embarrassed,” you try to look away from him, David grabbing your arms and turning you back to focus on him. “I didn’t tell anybody until now.”

“You know that’s not true, right?” He runs a hand through his hair before placing both palms in his front pockets, fidgeting with his keys nervously.

“Yeah, I know,” you say, laughing slightly as you cross your arms and meet his eyes, lips between your teeth.

“No, Y/N, I’m serious. You don’t actually believe that, do you?” Your eyes wander, trying to look anywhere but him. He dips his head slightly to catch your eye, staring at you and waiting for a response.

“Do you?” he repeats, increasingly concerned the longer you say nothing. The silence and the tears in your eyes that you refuse to let fall are enough of an answer for him.

“Davey…” your voice cracks and your lips purse before David envelops you in his arms.

“Y/N, you can’t believe them,” he comforts, pulling away, hands still on your waist.

“Why? They all say the same thing.”

“Do you know how fucking smart you are?” David asks, almost vehement, “Aren’t you top ten in our class? What’s your GPA?”

“That has nothing to do with me being a slut, Dave-.”

“No. That’s the point. You’re so much more than who you fuck. You have to know that. You’re one of the best people I know.”

He sighs in response when you say nothing, stepping away from you, scratching his head slightly.

“Do you wanna stop, like, what we’re doing? The sex? ‘Cause we can. I can forget this ever happened if you need me to.” You look up at him, eyes wide.

“What? No! Why would I wanna stop?”

“I don’t know, I just don’t want you to feel like this, and I don’t want it to be because of me. Like, I don't wanna contribute to the problem. ‘Cause I love you, you know, as a friend, and I don't want you to feel like a slut or a whore or something because we’re best friends and we’re fucking.”

“No, Dave, that’s not it. It’s different with you. I wanna keep going. You make me feel special, like, you actually care about me and I’m not just something for you to fuck, you know?”

“‘Cause you are special! I don’t take this shit between us lightly, trust me. I’m not gonna ruin a friendship just because I wanna get my dick wet. That’s not what this is about for me,” David steps away from you, hands running through his hair, “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I love fucking you, but at the end of the day, you’re a fucking person. You’re my best friend. We can have this conversation later, when you’re sober, but you can’t - you can’t think that about yourself, baby. I respect you so much.”

“But like, I am a slut ‘cause I’ve been with so many-.”

“Baby, who cares?” he sputters, “The fucking football team? So what? You know you’re smarter than all of them. They all have, like, triple digit SAT scores. You can do better than that. You deserve better than that. Come on. Let’s go.” David doesn’t let you reply, fingers tangling with yours and tugging you along. You stumble slightly and grip his hand tighter as he stops, realizing how drunk you still are. He unlaces your hands and you follow his lead as he slides you onto his back again, your arms slinging around his neck as he begins walking.

“Jesus. Fuck. He told you that you don’t deserve to be loved? What the actual hell? Y/N, I love you so much. Always know that. You mean so much to me. I’d do anything to keep you happy.”

“I know, Davey. I love you too. As friends.”

He dips his head, nodding slightly, “Yeah. As friends.”

Minutes pass in comfortable silence, neither of you saying anything as you close your eyes, listening to his steps and breathing him in.

“Baby, you’re choking me,” David eventually breaks.

You loosen your arms as he adjusts his grip, murmuring a whine, “I wish you’d choke me.”

“Yeah?” Although he should be, David’s not surprised, continuing, “What else do you want me to do?”

“So much,” you mumble, energy quickly decreasing, “Want you to do everything.”

“Everything?” He feels you nod against his shoulder, “What do you mean?”

“You’re so hot, daddy, and you don’t even know it. I want you to fuck me so hard,” you murmur, suddenly whining, “Hey! Why haven’t you eaten me out yet?”

“I wanna take my time with it, Y/N, or I would’ve done it this morning. I’m not gonna do it just to do it, I wanna make you feel good.” You grin, hastily kissing his cheek.

“You do make me feel good.”

You see Natalie’s house coming into view, but David waits until you’re at the front door before he puts you back down. You stumble into the house once he gets the door unlocked, shuffling to the kitchen and jumping up onto the counter. David follows closely behind, grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge and handing it to you.

“Drink this. All of it.” You pout, taking it from him and drinking it anyways.

“Daddy, why didn’t you dance with me at the dance?”

“I didn’t want people to look at us weird, baby,” David responds, standing between your legs, hands on your waist.

“Will you dance with me now?” You ask, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“Okay, what song?” He pulls his phone out, scrolling through his music.

“What’s the song my parents listen to all the time?”

“The old one?”

“Yeah! Paul...I dunno, I can’t remember right now.”

“Anka, baby. Paul Anka. Wasn’t it the song they danced to at their wedding?”

“Yeah. I always wanted it to be my song with whoever I end up with,” you mumble, head resting on his chest, “Even if it means I’m copying my parents. They still dance to it.”

He murmurs a quiet I know and puts the song on, setting his phone on the counter beside you and pulling you to the floor by your waist. You stumble a bit, arms tightening around his neck so you wouldn’t fall.

“Baby, get on my feet.”

You want to protest, tell him that you’re not that drunk anymore and you can stand on your own, but you decide against it and do as he says. You stand on his toes and let him move the two of you, burying your head in his neck.

Put your head on my shoulder

Hold me in your arms, baby

David sings along quietly and you hum, kissing his neck softly.

“You’re a terrible singer,” you mumble, “Ugh, God, stop it.” He giggles and continues to sing to spite you, arms fully wrapping around your waist as his cheek rests on your head. The song ends and he moves to let go of your waist but you whine, refusing to release your grip.

“No, again,” you insist in a whine. He obeys, rewinding the song and letting it play again, putting it on repeat and continuing to dance around the kitchen until you’re nearly falling asleep in his arms.

“Baby,” he moves around slightly, “Do you wanna go to the party now?”

You make a noise but agree, stepping away from him.

“I need to change, people are gonna see this and know it was you,” he says, pointing to the dark spot on his neck.

You lay on the couch and watch as he puts on a simple pair of jeans and a black hoodie, moving to dig through your bag to find something for you.

“Baby, none of these are gonna work,” he points out, pulling out multiple dresses and tops with low necklines. “C’mon, we gotta go find something in Nat’s closet.”

You manage to get yourself up off the couch to follow David upstairs and to Natalie’s room, standing in the doorway while he sorts through her clothes.

“Perfect,” he says to himself as he pulls out a t-shirt dress, helping you out of your current dress and into the new one. You don’t object to his choice until you see him return to the closet, pulling out a pair of shorts, rolling your eyes.

“I don’t need those,” you complain in a whine, still allowing him to put them on you. You hold onto his shoulders for stability as you lift your legs up so he can slide the material on.

“I don’t want anyone else seeing your pussy.”

You tangle your fingers in his hair, making him look up at you.

“Will you fuck me before we go?” you ask softly. He rises to his feet, mumbling out a no before leading you out the door. You pout, trying to turn back to him.

“Please? I’ve been waiting all night.”

“Be good and I’ll think about fucking you when we get there,” he says sternly, hands finding your hair and tugging, causing you to gasp harshly.

Although you wanted to protest, you give in and let the anticipation keep you occupied. David had sobered up enough to drive, so you had began making your way towards his car in a comfortable silence. He aided you as you crawled into his car since you were still tipsy, gifting him with a hug and a kiss on the cheek as a thank you.

As David drove the familiar route to Ilya’s, you couldn’t help but admire the street lights as you passed them.

“Daddy?” you quietly ask.

“What, baby?” he replies, shifting slightly in his seat.

“The street lights look really nice tonight, you know?” you slowly say, head against the window as you watch them pass.

David scoffs; not even his siblings would notice something as irrelevant as street lights and find them intriguing. He knew it was most likely due to the amount of alcohol remaining in your system, but he allowed himself to find it cute.

“Baby?” David questions nervously as you turn to look at him.

“Yeah?”

“I’m really sorry for what I said last night while I was fucking you. I can’t stop thinking about it, I feel so guilty,” Dave makes an effort to meet your eyes as he glances between you and the road. “I won’t say anything like that again, I swear to God.”

“What did you say?”

“About you and fucking half of the football team?”

“Oh…It’s okay. Don’t beat yourself up over it. I’m used to it,” you shrug.

David gets stopped at a light, still feeling incredibly guilty for adding to the issue. He shifts slightly in his seat, murmuring your name to get you to face him before leaning in, kissing you deeply.

He leans out after a few seconds, face still close to yours, saying, “I’m serious. I’m sorry. I won’t do it again, baby.”

You nod in his hold, meeting his eyes as he leans in once more, pressing his lips to yours quickly. Dave leans out again, removing his hands from you and returning his attention to the road as the light changes and he presses the gas.

“Daddy?” you ask once more, a few minutes later, “Can this not be just a sex thing?” You don’t look at him, gaze returning to the streetlights as they pass.

“What do you mean?” David’s slightly alarmed at the suggestion, “Like, you wanna date?”

“Oh, no, that’s not how I meant it,” you quickly explain, stumbling slightly over your words and turning back to him, “Like...are you lonely?”

“I mean, I have you and Nat and all of the guys, and then my family - so no, not really,” David quickly changes the subject, concerned, “Why? Are you?”

“I don’t mean with your friends. I mean, like…romantically?” You can’t find the words to say what you mean and it’s being contorted into something you didn’t intend.

“Honestly, baby, that sounds like dating. I don’t know if I can do that -.”

“Davey, I don’t mean like dating! I just feel like...it’s weird to go from fucking one minute to going back to normal and acting like best friends the next. If your dick is inside me on the regular, why can’t I sleep on you or hold your hand or some shit? Like...where are the boundaries, you know?”

“So you just wanna include all of the, like, affectionate shit in this? Between us?” You nod at him as you get stopped at another light, his eyes flickering between you and the road as he slinks backwards into his seat.

Wordlessly, David brings his free hand to yours, fingers intertwining and his thumb enveloping yours, rubbing slightly.

“Baby,” he says as a gentle reminder, pushing the gas after the light changes, “We're just friends.”

“I know, just friends,” you reply simply, tone light and matter of fact as you squeeze his hand, agreeing with him. “Don’t worry, I don’t like you like that; you're too gross.”

David laughs, bringing your hand up to kiss the back of it, meeting your eyes in the process. He’s only indulging you because you want it from him and you’re still overwhelmingly tipsy; he has no desire whatsoever to be exceedingly touchy with you, and he’s sure you're aware of this. With this, though, he can appreciate your attempt to see if he wanted anything similar. He will happily comply and do anything you want, even if he personally has no urge mirroring your desires.

David doesn’t break his grip until you’re parked a few houses down from the party and exiting the car. He cautiously looks around for bystanders before his hand finds the small of your back, leading you gently in a comfortable silence. Once closer to the door, his hand quickly leaves you as he begins greeting people.

As you walked inside, people were already drunk playing beer pong with the occasional body shots being taken; something not out of the ordinary for a party like this.

“Meet me upstairs in 5 minutes,” he says into your ear, just loud enough for you to hear over the music before going to say hi to Ilya who was standing by a keg, holding someone up above it. You went to find Natalie, spotting her in the corner with the guy she’d left the dance with. You gave her a hug and took a sip of her drink when she offered it to you, and when you saw David out of the corner of your eye going up the stairs, you waited a minute before excusing yourself to go to the bathroom.

He hadn’t told you where to meet him, so you walk slowly down the hall and pull your phone out to text him. As you did so, the bathroom door beside you swung open and someone grabbed your arm, pulling you inside and shutting the door behind you. You squealed, but calmed down when you realized it was him, hitting his chest lightly.

“Asshole, you scared me.”

He doesn’t answer, grabbing you by your waist and pushing you against the counter, kissing you from your lips to your jaw and down your neck.

“We can’t be gone too long or someone’s gonna notice, so we have to make this fast,” he mumbles, turning you around and bending you over the counter. He’s quick, pulling your shorts down along with his pants and removing a condom from his pocket you don’t remember seeing him stash. He pushes two fingers into you, not bothering to start slow; all he needs is to get you wet enough, which didn’t take long at all.

“Please,” you stutter on the word, already struggling to form sentences.

You hear the condom wrapper opening, followed by a soft kiss on your neck and him slowly pushing into you.

“You okay, baby?” he asked quietly.

“Yes, daddy.”

His hips pick up the pace immediately, needing you to cum as quickly as possible. You wanted to scream, your whines getting louder and louder.

“Baby, hush, someone’s gonna hear you,” he whispers into your ear as his arm wraps around you and his free hand moves to your throat, squeezing lightly.

Soft whimpers leave your mouth in an attempt to stay as quiet as possible, David’s hand leaving your neck to yank your hair and rubbing circles on your clit with the other. He knows the effect he has on you, using it to his advantage as the minutes pass, his hips seemingly speeding up.

“Look how pretty you are, baby,” he states, your eyes meeting in the mirror, “My girl’s so pretty, fuck.”

“Fuck,” you moan, trying your best at the impossible task of remaining quiet.

“C’mon, baby. Cum. I know you’re close.”

The hand in your hair drops to push gently on your stomach: enough for you to fall apart. You grab his wrist as if to stop his movements on your clit, free hand holding your weight up on the counter. His thrusts get sloppy as you squeeze around him, David stopping completely and dropping his head to your shoulder as empty grunts escape his lips.

He pulls your shorts back up your hips, removing the condom and tossing in the garbage before tugging his jeans back up. You turn and kiss him, hands on the back of his neck.

“No, baby, we can’t do this. You gotta go,” he says between kisses, shaking his head.

“No, I don’t wanna go yet.”

“Someone’s gonna notice we’ve been gone.”

You ignore him, kissing down his neck.

“Baby.” David pulls back, making you look at him, hands gripping your waist.

“I don’t wanna go. What if someone I don’t like tries to talk to me?”

“You’re a big girl, I think you can handle it.” You scoff at that, removing your hands from him, crossing your arms and leaning back against the sink.

“C’mon, baby. Just go downstairs. I’ll be down right after.”

“I don’t wanna talk to anyone besides you, though.” He sighs, running a hand through his hair.

“You’re being dramatic, Y/N. You can handle yourself for a few minutes.”

You look at him blankly for a few seconds, rolling your eyes and moving to open the door.

“No, baby, I didn’t mean it like that,” he stops you, trying to grab your wrist but you pull your hand away and open the door, slamming it behind you.

You go down the stairs and out of the back door, leaning against the wall and taking a minute to collect yourself. People are scattered around the yard, smoking cigarettes and shotgunning beers, and you try your best to avoid conversation by looking at your feet. Apparently, it wasn’t your day, beginning to hear someone calling your name. You almost wanted to ignore whoever it was and go inside to get David to drive you home.

“Hey, babe. What’s are you doing out here all alone?” You look up, seeing Jordan walking towards you with a beer in his hand and an unlit cigarette tucked behind his ear. You roll your eyes at the sight.

“Avoiding people like you,” you snap. Jordan chuckles, moving to stand in front of you. He chugs the rest of his beer and throws it aside, you scrunching up your face in disgust at the move. He looks at you, smirking, and you can almost see the gears turning in his head.

“Baby, I miss you,” he tries, and you have to stop yourself from laughing. The name sounds dirty and misconstrued coming out of a mouth that’s not David’s.

“I don’t miss you.” He shakes his head, taking a step closer to you.

“C’mon, baby, what do you say we go somewhere private?”

“I’m good.” You attempt to step around him to leave, Jordan his hands on the wall on either side of you and blocking you in. You suddenly freeze up, not sure what to do. You want to hit him somehow, body not responding to your brain.

“I know you wanna fuck, baby. You’re not fooling anybody,” he mumbles, one of his hands dropping and sliding up your thigh, under your dress, “Isn’t that what sluts do?”

“Where’s your new boyfriend? David? Saw you being all touchy with him at the dance. Is he as good as me, baby?” Jordan’s hand remains moving north despite your attempts to push it away.

“You really think i’m fucking my best friend just cause I don’t wanna fuck you? Well i’m not, you should know that, dumbass. Even if I was, he probably is better. Wouldn’t be that difficult.”

He ignores your insult, fingers digging into your thigh as he starts, “Yeah? You think so? Maybe we can see. All three of us together? You think he’d be down? You’ve always had the hots for him.”

“Do we have a problem here?”

David’s standing to the side of you and you thank God for Dave’s timing, hoping Jordan will get off. His hand remains on your thigh.

“Nah, you’re good.” Jordan spits at him, “Dude, I have a question. You wanna tag team her, bro?”

David’s eyebrows fly up in surprise, eyebrows knitting together at the realization of his vile suggestion, “What the fuck did you just say?”

Jordan pushes himself off of you and the wall, allowing you to immediately scurry over to David, standing beside him.

“I asked if you wanna tag team her with me. You know she’d be down.”

“Fuck off, asshole. She’s my best friend. I don’t want that and neither does she.”

“David, let’s just go,” you attempt to sway him, tugging on his arm, “It’s not a big deal.”

He looks at you blankly, looking around at the crowd that had began to form before speaking, “We’re talking about this in the car.” David rolls his eyes at Jordan as he allows you to lead him back through the house, searching for Natalie and Ilya.

You locate Natalie, who’s now playing beer pong with a few people from your class. She smiles when she sees you, face immediately dropping as she realizes how upset you look.

“Are you okay?”

“David almost fought Jordan and a whole thing happened, so we’re leaving. We’ll see you at your house, okay?”

“Holy shit, what happened?”

“I’ll tell you later, I’m sure you’ll hear about it anyways -,” you’re cut off by David, grabbing your wrist and pulling you away, dragging you through the crowd of people. He stops to tell Ilya that you and him are leaving, grasp still tight on your wrist to ensure you won’t walk away. Ilya turns to you, noticing how angry you look.

“Y/N, are you okay?”

“She’s fine,” David quickly says, pulling his keys out of his pocket and bidding Ilya a goodbye.

“I can speak for myself,” you snap as he tugs you through the front door, trying your best to pull your wrist from his grip. David doesn’t let go until you’re at the car.

You’re both silent as he drives, your arms crossed in defiance. You keep your gaze on the streets outside of the window, avoiding his eyes which keep glancing over at you.

“Are you okay?” He finally speaks up, but you don’t say anything. “I’m sorry, okay? I should’ve been there.” You still don’t answer.

“You don’t have to be like that with me, baby, you know that. Come on. Talk to me,” Dave attempts to sway you, “I know it bothers you. How can I help?”

You shift in your seat, uncrossing your arms and sighing lightly, giving into him, “I just… don’t understand why they think that’s okay.”

“They? How often does this happen?” David’s eyebrows scrunch together, moving to reach for your hand as he glances between you and the road.

You shrug, “Like, once every party we go to? I’m not, like, super torn up about it or anything, I just - I hate that you saw it happen,” you sniffle as he squeezes your hand tighter, looking away from him and out of the window. “It’s fucking embarrassing.”

“Jesus. I should’ve fucking fought him -.”

“No, Dave. I don’t care about that,” you interrupt, “I just hate that you saw.”

He can’t think of much to say, murmuring a quiet tut followed by a don’t be embarrassed, baby.

Minutes pass in silence, David kissing your fingertips out of pure pity as he drives before he eventually breaks, “Baby, don’t get pissed at me for asking this again, but you’re clearly upset about this and obviously all of the other times it’s happened, you know? I’m just double checking that you’re sure you want to keep going with this thing between us?”

You sigh, rolling your eyes slightly, “Yes, Davey, I’m sure. It’s okay.”

“Like, one hundred percent sure? I just don’t want to make things worse for you. Like, I don’t want you to feel like I’m using you or something, ‘cause I love you, and staying close with you is more important to me than getting sex on the regular, you know?”

“Dave, you’re doing the opposite. Don’t compare yourself to them or feel like you’re treating me the same way they do. You know you’re not! You’re helping me with it. Really. And,” you add, “We’re already such closer friends ‘cause of it and it’s barely been a day.”

“I don’t know. I guess, but if you don’t wanna do this anymore or it’s making you feel shitty or something, just let me know, okay?”

You pull your hand out of his and link your pinkies, “I pinky promise I’ll tell you if anything changes or I change my mind or anything else.”

“Okay. I’ll take it,” David agrees, kissing the back of your hand, not letting go, “I pinky promise the same.”

He doesn’t break away until you’re in Nat’s driveway once more, leaning across the center console and digging through his dash. He pulls out the weed and rolling papers, beginning to forge a joint out of the items.

“Daviiiiiid, I don’t know about that, I’m super tired and still upset.”

He lifts his head, “Come on, baby. We can smoke and go inside and sleep.”

Still sensing your unwillingness, Dave says, in hopes of persuading you, “Get in the backseat with me and we can cuddle?”

You immediately break, agreeing in a groan and climbing in the back as David finishes rolling the joint and locates a lighter. He follows you into the backseat, settling in with his back against the door as you cling to his side, head in his neck.

“You want the first hit?” He feels you shake your head no, taking it upon himself to slip the joint into his mouth, flicking the lighter. You feel the warmth radiate as he holds the flame for a few seconds before he stops it, chest rising slowly as he inhales.

He holds it out to you and you take a moment to look at it, contemplating your decision.

“It’ll make you feel better, baby, I promise.” You look at him and back at the joint, leaning towards it and letting him hold it to your lips. You take a small hit before leaning into him again, letting him lift your legs over his lap and hold you closer.

You attempt to suppress your cough, David’s hand running comfortingly along your back as he continuously hits the joint. He offers it to you again once you’ve stopped coughing, taking it from his fingers and sliding it between your lips, taking a hard hit.

You continue the exchange, interrupted by a few kisses, until Dave finishes the joint, throwing the roach somewhere up front and pulling you closer into him. You tilt your head up, fingers finding his jaw as you lean in, lips slowly attaching to his as David’s arms wrap around you tighter, deepening the kiss.

“Baby,” David murmurs, a few minutes later, against your lips in between kisses, “I love you.” You hum in response before he quickly adds an As friends, lips returning to yours.

Your hands slide into his hair as you mutter a reciprocation, David's palms pushing you closer into his torso as he leans out, eyes fluttering open as you take the hint and return your head to his neck.

“Fuuuuuuuck,” he drags out, the end of the word catching in his throat, “This is so nice. I wanna stay here forever.”

“We gotta go inside, Davey,” you gently remind, David groaning at the thought and muttering a wimpy I know. He sits up and opens the car door for you both to get out, returning to the front seat momentarily to turn the car off and get his keys.

Wordlessly, you both make it inside and kick off your shoes. You immediately move to your bag, tearing the dress off and throwing it somewhere on the floor, digging through your clothes for something to put on. You throw on your t-shirt from the night before, keeping your shorts on and moving upstairs to Nat’s bathroom to remove your makeup with David silently following.

He leans against the doorway of the bathroom as he watches you at the sink and mirror, rubbing his eyes sleepily every once in a while. You finish, taking his hand in yours and tugging him back down the stairs and into the living room. You launch yourself on to one of the couches, hand still in David’s as you pull him along with you. He settles on top of you and between your legs, hands moving to your waist as he leans in to begin kissing you once more.

Quickly, David’s hand slides down the outside of your thigh and back to your waist, retracting as he hears you let out a whimper. He doesn’t think anything of it at first before looking at you and seeing tears in your eyes as you try to pull him closer. He begins to pull away but you shake your head, attempting to lean back up and kiss him again.

“No, I’m okay. I swear. I just freaked out for a second. Just keep going,” you insist, David refusing and sitting up completely. He understands, wholeheartedly: you’d gone through something repeatedly and were still recovering - he wasn’t going to push that. He felt bad for even making the move in the first place, arms wrapping entirely around you as you let out a sob. He pulls you closer, rubbing your back to try and calm you down.

“I’m sorry, Davey.”

“You don’t have to say sorry, baby. You did nothing wrong.” He kisses the top of your head, laying down and pulling you with him, allowing you to rest your head on his chest. You let out another loud sob and squeezes you a bit tighter.

“Shh, it’s okay. I’ve got you now.”

He continues to play with your hair, pushing it away from your face and pulling your waist closer into him. David waits until you’ve quieted down and fallen asleep to allow himself to feel any variation of drowsy, tangling your legs together and drifting off himself.

You’re both woken the next morning by Natalie shuffling to the kitchen, rubbing her eyes and asking you both, “What the fuck are you doing?”

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breanime · 5 years

Text

Yesterday, Tomorrow, and Today

Requested by @slytheringranger: Hi! Can I request Soulmate AU with Diego Hargreeves, in which Reader (a good friend of Klaus, she often helped him by giving a hug, a warm meal and a place to sleep) is Diego's soulmate but doesn't want to tell him because she thinks that he still loves Eudora and wants to start over (especially after apocalypse mess is over and some people came back to life)?

*gif not mine*

The day before the apocalypse was a time you would never forget. After days of Five—who had come back in the same body (but not the same age?) he’d left in—dragging a mannequin around town talking about the end of the world, and Diego losing Eudora, Klaus losing Dave (who was from the past?), and Allison losing her voice—you weren’t exactly in the clearest of mindsets. Really, you were so afraid of what tomorrow would bring, you didn’t even want the day to end…

So when a bruised Diego dragged a detoxing Klaus into your apartment at 3 in the morning, you didn’t so much as blink.

“You guys want coffee or cocktails?” You had asked.

Diego had smiled at you—not the sarcastic kind of smile he’d give Luther or his father, or the cocky smile he’d flash at Klaus or Ben in the old days—but a special, small smile that he only ever aimed at you. “Coffee for me, sleep for my brother,” he’d said.

It took the two of you a few minutes to get Klaus stripped down (“no peeking”, he had giggled at you as Diego helped you take off his leather see-through pants) and into bed, but you’d done it.

“Hey, Y/N,” Klaus had called to you, shivering in bed while drenched in sweat, “Wanna see my mark? Make sure we’re not s-s-s-soulmates?” He grinned up at you through his shivering. Still grinning—still shaking—Klaus waved his inner wrist in your face, showing his distinct and unique soulmate mark that was clear on his skin: silver dog-tags.

You had pushed his hand down; knowing good and well that his mark matched Dave and that yours—a black dagger on your right buttocks—matched Diego. “I should be so lucky,” you joked as you placed another blanket over your sick friend. “Get some rest, Klaus.”

“Luther called a family meeting in the morning,” Diego had added, “Maybe then we can convince him to let Vanya out.”

You had held your tongue. That had been a shock to you—hearing that Vanya, your quiet, mousy friend, would be the cause of the end of the world. You were still struggling with the thought that she had powers at all, let alone powers that could—and apparently would—end the world. Worst still—you weren’t sure you were pro-locking her up, either… But you weren’t a Hargreeves, you were just an ordinary friend who often found yourself in unordinary situations. So you didn’t get a vote.

Diego had led you to your living room, and you could see the tension and stress in the set of his shoulders. It had only been a couple of days since he’d lost Eudora, and you knew he wasn’t coping well. You immediately set about making him coffee, unable to bring yourself to look him in the eyes. In all honesty, you had known you were in love with Diego long before your soulmate mark had shown up on your 16th birthday. The problem was that he wasn’t in love with you. You’d seen him with other women, and it had hurt, but you’d always known that it was just a passing fancy. Until Eudora. It was like they were two peas in a pod, like they were one complete sentence in two different clauses, like they were meant to be together…soulmates. And even after they ‘broke up’ and decided to just be friends, you could still see the familiarity and easy affection between them. So you figured…maybe it was possible for a person to have an unrequited soulmate. It would be sad, and it would be lonely, but… it was your life. What could you do?

“Thanks,” Diego’s voice, tired and deep and familiar, called your attention, “for this, Y/N… I… You’re the only person I can count on.” He sat down at the kitchen table and put his head in his hands, the way you’d seen him do a thousand times before. “I don’t know what I would do without you… After what happened to Eudora, and M-M-Mom,” he had taken a deep breath then, “You’re all I have left.”

“Don’t say that,” you’d come to stand in front of him then, looking down at him with nothing but love in your eyes, “You have your family—and there’s still hope left. If anyone can save the world,” you smiled, “the Umbrella Academy can.”

You’d been rewarded with Diego’s smile—his special smile—and your heart had started pounding at the sight of it. “I don’t deserve you.” He’d said.

“Yeah, yeah,” you had rolled your eyes playfully, “that’s old news, Knifeboy.”

“Hey,” his hand had shot out, reaching for you, “I mean that. All these years, you’ve been by my side. And I know that I don’t exactly make it easy,” he gripped your hand firmly, “I don’t deserve you.”

You had opened your mouth to reply, but all that came out was a surprised shriek when the lights went out. Diego had stood up, and you heard the familiar sound of metal as he brandished one of his knives. “Shit,” you sighed, “These blackouts have been going on and off for the last few days,” you moved to a cabinet and pulled out a couple of candles. “I thought maybe it had something to do with the end of the world, but now…”

“It still might be,” Diego was suddenly right behind you. You could feel him at your back.

You licked your lips as you lit a few candles, not moving from your spot at the counter. Diego didn’t move either. You had stared down at the flame flickering in front of you as you spoke. “Did… Did Five say what happened to me? In the future? Like… how I die?”

“Hey,” Diego’s hands had found their way to your hips, and he turned you around to face him. The light from the candles casted shadows on his face, illuminating his features. “Nothing’s gonna happen to you,” he said, shaking his head slowly, “I’m gonna protect you.”

“Diego…”

“I know I didn’t do a good job with Patch,” he went on, “and I know I’ve let you down before, but I promise… nothing’s gonna happen to you, Y/N. I’m gonna protect you.”

“I know you will,” you had put a hand on his chest, right over his heart.

He covered your hand with his own, and he had looked down at you with a certain look in his eye… It wasn’t a look you had ever seen before. Not on Diego, and certainly not directed at you. “Can… I need to ask you something.”

You nodded. “Okay…Ask.”

“Just… If I’m not your soulmate,” he’d said, slowly, “don’t tell me. Okay?”

Your eyes had widened at his words. You and Diego never talked about soulmates—he had never asked about your mark, and you’d never asked about his. If anything, you both made an effort to hide your marks from each other since you were 16. Slowly, you nodded. “Okay,” you agreed.

“Okay,” Diego’s fingers tapped yours on his chest, and you could feel his heart beating faster with each moment that passed, “Is it okay if I k-k-k-k,” he had taken a steadying breath then, “kiss you?”

You nodded again.

Diego took a step, hand still over your hand on his heart. Slowly, he leaned down. You closed your eyes when you felt his breath on your face. Your heart felt like it would burst when his lips finally pressed against yours. You had fantasized about kissing Diego since you were a teenager, but none of your fantasies prepared you for how soft his lips were, or how gently he held you. Both of his hands went to your hips, pulling you closer, and you tilted your head to allow him better access to you. You put both of your hands on his face, and your toes curled when you felt his tongue slip into your waiting mouth. One of his hands went down to grip your ass, and you gasped at the feeling. You could feel Diego’s smirk against your mouth. He lifted you up like you were nothing and carried you to your bedroom. He kicked the door shut, not concerned at all with the lack of light.

He laid you on the bed, kissing you senseless as your hands roamed up and down his back. He sat up, stripping his shirt off, and you could see his wide smile even in the dark. He was still smiling when he leaned down to kiss you.

You spent the night in Diego’s arms, and you were grateful for the dark. He couldn’t see your soulmate mark (even though you ended up in a variety of positions showing it off), and you didn’t see his. Once you were finished, you lay in the bed together, sweaty and grinning from ear to ear.

“So we should have done that a long time ago,” you said, grinning at him.

Diego had smiled back down at you. “Hell yeah we should have.” He had kissed your forehead, arms wrapped up around you, and sighed happily.

You had wanted to stay naked in bed with him all night, but you needed to check on Klaus…and you didn’t want him to wake up and see your mark, so you had kissed him again, got out of bed, and shimmied into a T-shirt and pajama shorts. Diego had complained and whined from the bed the whole time, but it only took you a second to check on Klaus—who was knocked out—and then you were back in bed with Diego.

The next morning, Diego had woken you up with kisses. His smiling face in the sun was the first thing you saw when you opened your eyes. He was fully dressed—complete with the knife harness. “Hi,” he said.

“Hi,” you smiled back.

He had kissed you then, and you knew immediately that this is what you wanted every morning for the rest of your life. “Klaus and I have to head out,” he said, caressing your face gently, “family meeting.”

“You’ll make sure Luther lets Vanya out, right?” You asked, frowning.

He nodded. “I will. Klaus and Allison want to free her, too. Ben, too, probably,” he sighed as he looked down at you, “I’m gonna fix this, Y/N, I promise.”

You smiled. “I know you will.” You reached out for him and kissed him one more time. “Now go save the world.”

He didn’t save the world. The apocalypse happened, the city was destroyed, and the Umbrella Academy—including Vanya—disappeared.

And then they came back. It was weird, and you didn’t fully understand it, but somehow Five used his powers to take them back in time and change the timeline. So, one second you were cowering in the basement of your apartment building as moon rocks fell from the sky, and the next you were in a haze of electric blue light and everything was back to normal. The news reported what Diego and his family had done, and you watched, tears in your eyes, as he and his brothers and sisters were honored by the mayor of the city. Your mouth dropped when you saw Ben standing in line between Diego and Klaus—alive, smiling, and the tears spilled down your cheeks. Ben.

“How is this possible?” One of the reporters in the crowd asked, shoving a microphone in Ben’s face. You saw Diego grimace beside him.

Klaus stepped up, grinning in his sparkling purple eyeliner. “Our dear, dead brother Ben is no longer dead!” He announced, throwing an arm around Ben. “By the confusing—and frankly contradictory, I don’t know who makes these rules—powers of time travel, we have been able to bring a number of poor, lost souls back from the cold grip of Death!”

“It wasn’t just time travel,” Luther interjected, “Klaus is the reason so many people were able to be saved. He’s the real hero here.”

Your gin about broke your face at Luther’s words. You were so proud of Klaus, and Diego—of all of them. And Ben was back! You couldn’t wait to see him.

You saw Diego lean over and whisper something in Luther’s ear, and Luther nodded enthusiastically. He turned back to the cameras. “That’s all of the questions we’re going to take today, thank you,” Luther declared, “Any other questions can be directed to Detective Eudora Patch.”

Your eyes widened as Eudora stepped into view. She nodded over at Luther and started taking questions. You watched her as the Umbrella Academy walked off, not hearing a word she was saying. She was—as always—wearing a turtleneck sweater under a dark jacket; you always assumed her soulmate mark—Diego’s soulmate mark, probably—was on her neck. You sat down on your couch, watching but not seeing, and thought about what this all meant. Diego would have a second chance with his soulmate. They could start over together, do it right this time. That was… That was wonderful. It was amazing. You were happy for him…

…you could be happy for him and sad for yourself at the same time, right?

An hour later, you sat on your balcony, looking over at the city. Not even 24 hours ago, everything was dark and black and horrible, and now… It was like nothing had happened, like everyone had just forgotten the death and panic and fear. But you hadn’t. You remembered it all. Beyond the terror and confusion, you remembered what it was like to kiss Diego, to feel him inside of you, to be secure and safe in his arms. And now you had to ask yourself the question: was it better to have had those moments with Diego, your soulmate, and never have them again? Or would it have been better to have never been with him, never have known what might have been?

You weren’t sure. The only thing you were sure of was how much it hurt.

“Is it too soon to say ‘I told you so’?” Diego’s voice cut into your thoughts, and you spun around to see him behind you.

“What—how—?”

He shrugged, grinning. “You think I don’t know how to break into my best friend’s apartment?” He leaned against the doorway. “It was frighteningly easy, by the way. Your door wasn’t even locked—”

“What are you doing here?” You asked.

Diego frowned. That wasn’t the reaction he was looking for, clearly. “What, I need an excuse to see you now?” He asked back.

You shook your head. “No, I… I just saw the press conference, so…”

He grinned again. “Yeah? You like that? I told Luther to wrap it up, none of us want to be in the limelight like that anymore.” His grin faded the more he looked at you. He straightened up. “What’s going on, Y/N?”

“Nothing, I…” You felt tears well up in your eyes, but you decided to ignore them. Diego didn’t. “I’m just… surprised to see you.”

“You didn’t think I could do it?” He asked, glaring now. “Save the world?”

“No—of course I thought you could do it; I knew you could,” you said quickly, “I just… Ben is back.”

“Yeah.”

“I thought maybe you’d be with him, or…”

“Y/N, we were in between time periods for a while there,” Diego rolled his eyes, “like—a long while. We got all the sibling bonding time we needed—and then some.” He looked at his feet. “Five said it would only look like we were gone a day, but it was a lot longer than that for us. And we did it—we saved the world, but we weren’t always sure that we would. I wasn’t…” He took a deep breath before looking up at you. “I wasn’t sure I would ever see you again. And now that I’m here…” He took a step back. “I should go.”

“No!” You ran up to him and tackled him in a hug. You cried into his chest, and Diego wrapped his arms around you. You were so, so glad to see him, no matter the circumstances. And you needed to let him know that. “Don’t go.” You inhaled his scent and decided to commit to the fact that you loved him. He was your soulmate, and even if you weren’t his, you knew that you would always love him, always hope and fight for his happiness—even if it wasn’t with you.

“You gotta tell me what’s wrong, princess,” he said softly, arms still securely wrapped around you, “I won’t know how to make you stop crying if you don’t tell me what’s wrong.”

You sniffled into his chest. What was wrong? You were in love with someone who was in love with someone else—that was what was wrong. Your soulmate had a different soulmate, you were sure of it, that was what was wrong. You picked your head up and looked at Diego. His eyes were wide and sad, and you could see the worry and confusion shimmering in them. That was because of you. Sighing, you took a step back from him—and his frown deepened at the small distance between you. “Do… Do you remember the last time we saw each other?”

He smirked. “You mean when we fucked? Made love? Bumped uglies until you couldn’t move anymore and then I held you all night long? When we—”

“—Oh my God,” you couldn’t help but laugh as you smacked him in the chest, “Jesus, Diego, please shut the fuck up, I’m begging you—”

“—You begged me then, too…”

“My point,” you went on, “was that, yes, that…that happened,” you took a breath, “and do you remember what happened before that? All the people we lost?”

He nodded, serious again. “Of course I remember. But they’re okay now, Mom’s fine, Patch is good—” He stopped, eyes widening. “Y/N,” he said slowly, staring over at you, “Are you—is this because of Eudora?”

You wrapped your arms around yourself and tried to keep the tears at bay. “I… I’m happy for you,” you said shakily, “You got your soulmate back, and I don’t want to get in the way of that—”

“—My—? What are you talking about?” Diego stepped up to you. “Patch isn’t my soulmate.”

Your eyes widened. “She isn’t? But—”

“—What, this whole time you thought she was my soulmate?” He asked, shaking his head. “No, Y/N, that’s crazy—she’s my friend, we’re good friends, but…” He stopped. “Fuck it.” Without another word, Diego propped his leg over the railing and pulled his pants leg up. Just above his ankle, in bright colors that you immediately recognized, was your soulmate mark.

You were his soulmate.

“Don’t—don’t show me yours,” he asked quietly, looking down at his leg, “I won’t be able to take it, y’know? If you’re not my soulmate…” He sighed, rolling his pants leg down and putting his foot back on the ground. He looked so sad when he looked back up at you again. “I can’t lie to you, Y/N, when you find your soulmate, I don’t think I’m gonna be able to control myself. I mean… I want you to be happy, but… I want you to myself.”

“Diego…”

“I know,” he interrupted you, rubbing the back of his neck, “I have no right to say that or try to keep you from your soulmate, but I—”

“Come here,” you said, a small smile on your face. You held your hand out, and he took it, slowly. You led him back inside your apartment, sliding the door to the patio closed. Neither of you spoke as you sat Diego down at the kitchen table. He put his hands in his lap and stared up at you, looking more like a puppy than a vigilante. You loved him so much, and you felt so lucky that he was your soulmate. It was quite literally your dream come true. And there were no words you could say to show him how much you loved him, how you were meant to be.

So you turned around, pulled down your pants, and mooned him.

“Holy shit!” Diego jumped out of his seat, and you pulled your pants back up. “No, no—let me see,” he asked, hands on your hips. You giggled and obliged him. You felt his large, warm hands on your skin, ghosting over the mark—his mark—on your ass. “That’s mine,” he whispered, getting on his knees behind you, “You… You’re mine.”

You closed your eyes when you felt his lips on your ass, kissing your soulmate mark. “I’m yours,” you agreed, “and you’re mine.”

Diego stood up and turned you around, his eyes on fire. “I love you,” he said, voice steady and sure, “I’ve always loved you. Do… Do you love me?”

You smiled. “I have always loved you, Diego Hargreeves.”

You could feel the smile on his lips when he kissed you, and that night, you fell asleep in your soulmate’s arm with absolutely no question about how he felt about you. You were his, and he was yours.

You woke up to screaming and the loud pop music blaring. You lifted your head from Diego’s chest with a groan. “Your brothers are here,” you informed him.

He grunted from underneath you, one hand on your back, the other protectively gripping your ass, right where your mark was—you could tell that this would be commonplace between the two or you for the rest of your lives; his hand on your ass—not that you were complaining. “I’m gonna fucking kill them. Hand me my knives.”

You smiled, lips still on his bare chest. “No fratricide allowed in my house.”

“Y/N! Diegooooooo,” Klaus called from the other side of your bedroom door, “We know you’re in there and we want waffles!”

“And coffee!” Five demanded.

“Good morning!” Ben called.

You jumped out of bed at the sound of his voice, grinning from ear to ear. Diego groaned, but couldn’t keep the smile off of his face as he watched you grab a shirt and clap your hands together. “Ben!” You called, looking around for some pants. “I’ll be out in a second—hold on!”

Diego sat up, grabbing you by the wrist when you came towards the bed again. “Hey,” he grinned up at you, “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” you giggled, “But come on, we have to get up and see the boys!”

“Yeah, yeah,” he stood up and slid his pants on. He smacked your ass; Klaus whooped in approval from the other side of the door—he, of all people, knew the sound of an ass getting smacked. “We feed them one meal, then they have to get out.” His eyes washed over you as you got dressed. “I got plans for you.”

Grinning, you leaned in to give him a quick kiss before ripping the door open. Klaus was blaring music from some portable speakers and wearing one of Allison’s skirts and a pair of your old red pumps from your 11th grade play (how he got them, you didn’t know, but he looked good in them), and he was smiling like you hadn’t seen him smile in years. You screamed when you saw Ben, tackling him in a hug while Five complained about his lack of caffeine and Diego threatened Klaus with dismemberment. You spent the rest of the morning cooking breakfast and laughing with your boys, while Diego—your soulmate—didn’t even pretend to try to keep his hands off of you.

You had figured, when you were thinking your wildest fantasies about what life would be like in the unlikely event that the world didn’t end, that things would be… nice. But the reality was so much better than you could have imagined. And now, as he threw a butter knife across the room and into the wall, you knew things would only keep getting better and better.

You couldn’t wait for tomorrow to come.

*******************************************************************************************

Lowkey, I wanted to call this one: “Dat Ass” but I refrained. I’m still working on updating my taglist, so if you want to be added/removed, please let me know! Thanks for reading!

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#diego hargreeves x reader #diego hargreeves #tua

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