#valentine'sdaveedchallenge

[delaber]

Could you do like a short piece where Daveed and reader are a thing but not really a couple. And he ruins it by not wanting more but comes back and apologises. Thanks!

Title: Stepping Up

Pairing: Daveed Diggs x Reader

Note: Thanks anon! First time I’m writing Daveed. This was fun and challenging.

Word Count: 1.7K

Warnings: mentions of sex. Slight angst. I think that’s it but let me know

"U up?"

Two words and a question mark. That was all it took and you felt your heart start pounding in your chest. Your feet started moving around, unable to stay in one place. You had to shred the duvet, you had started sweating. Two words and a fucking question mark and he could make your body betray you. Two words and you were ready for him.

You had to actively remind yourself that you were in withdrawal. That you couldn't hit him back no matter what. That he hadn't treated you the way you deserved. That he was fine and sweet and wonderful - but a dick nonetheless.

Still, it was hard to resist temptation. If you finally allowed yourself to text him back he would be here in a jiffy. You needed it. You missed him. And suddenly everything came rushing back: Daveed's athletic body the first time you'd seen him jump around on stage, his smile as he had introduced himself to you, his teasing manner as he had thrown around millions of jokes to you and the rest of your cast-mates. How you had already fallen for his wicked charms by the end of the first rehearsal. How you had flirted desperately to get him to notice you, and how he had finally pulled you backstage and kissed you in secret. It had all lead to a daring affair between the two of you, Daveed fucking you roughly every day in between rehearsals and later in between shows. His long fingers curling inside you while you moaned his name, the taste of him on your lips, his demanding movements as he took you in various positions all over your dressing room.

And no one could know. Not even Jas or Leslie or Oak. Daveed had made you promise not to tell - that this was your personal thing. You had agreed and said 'of course' right before he had hoisted you up beside the powder room mirror and slid into you. At first, the sneaking around had been nothing but arousing - you one hundred percent condoned it; your only goal back then had been to keep fucking Daveed in your costumes, the blue revolutionary jacket always open against his toned chest, but as the weeks proceeded, you felt yourself wanting more from him.

You wanted to be able to snog him senseless every time you saw him. You wanted to intertwine your fingers with his in public. Treat him to dinner. Take him home. Watch movies on lazy Sundays. Run your hands over his abs in your own bed. Waking up to find him covering your body with kisses.

But Daveed had said no. That he didn't want those things. That he didn't want to engage in anything serious with someone he worked with. That you were just co-workers who helped each other relieve some of the stress that the highly demanding job craved. Nothing more. In other words, you deduced that you were his stress ball - and you got angry! You yelled, and you threatened to kick him out of your dressing room, and you even threw a small lipstick at him, but his chocolate brown eyes were so sweet and so kind that you eventually felt yourself nodding along to his arguments of how the two of you could mess up the entire production if you started dating and things didn't work out. You sighed and you nodded and you agreed with him. And not even ten minutes later had he pulled off your panties, bent you over the couch, and dropped to his knees behind you. A lousy way to make up for it.

You had let it continue like this for eight months until his contract finally ran out and you were no longer co-workers. You had been looking forward to this. On his last night at the theatre, Daveed had stumbled into your dressing room in his Jefferson robe. The door behind him had barely closed before he had ripped your corset open, his warm fingers immediately rolling your nipples they way he knew you liked it. He had pressed his pelvis up against you and whispered in your ear that he had been hard on stage all night, patiently waiting for the show to be over so he could come see you. And you had decided that now was the time; slowly, you had turned around in his arms with a smirk and you had asked him out seeing as you wouldn't be working together anymore. You had thought it was a sure thing. But Daveed had pulled down your pants mumbling "My contract's in effect until tomorrow," right before you had felt his tongue on your skin.

"So what happens if I ask you again tomorrow?" You'd panted as his tongue was joined by his fingers.

"It'll still be a no," he grinned up at you, apparently unaware of your aching heart. He was a good man. If he knew the effect he had on you, he would've either stepped back or stepped up.

"And what happens after tonight?" You'd asked.

"We keep fucking," he had grinned with a content sigh as he spread your legs apart.

That was five weeks ago.

Now you had endured five weeks of Daveed constantly texting you that he was stressed, or hard, or thinking about you. Five weeks of him sending you dirty texts explicitly describing what he wanted to do to you. Five weeks of you ignoring him completely.

And now you were staring at his text consisting of two words and a question mark, contemplating if a small toe-dip into your old addiction was such a catastrophe. You felt your phone buzz in your hand as another text from him ticked in: 'I know you're reading my texts. Please stop ignoring me I miss you.'

You almost choked. In the year you'd known Daveed this was the most sensitive he'd ever gotten with you. You read the second text over and over and over again contemplating what to do; text him back? Call him? Or keep ignoring him?

In the end, you decided to call him up. He needed to be told of. He answered before the fourth ring.

"Hey," he almost whispered.

"Daveed," you let out a sigh, "you can't keep texting me."

"I know. I know I'm sorry," he mumbled, "are you mad at me?"

"Of course I'm not mad at you," you said quietly, "but things can't go on like this."

"I know... Are you in love with me?" He said abruptly but in a soft voice.

You went completely quiet when you felt your heart ache. So he did know about it. He had managed to put two and two together... "it isn't fair of you to ask me that," you almost whispered, "you know I am."

Daveed went quiet too and you could hear his steady breathing on the other end of the phone line. After a couple of seconds he finally said, "can I come over?"

"I'm not sure it's a good idea."

"Please. I have to see you. I want to apologise properly," he groaned painfully, "can I please come over?"

Unable to resist him, you breathed a short "yes," and ten minutes later opened the door to him.

"Hey," his face curled up in a smile the minute you came into sight. He stepped closer to you, and pulled you in for a soft hug, "you look cute."

"Yeah, well thanks," you mumbled against his neck. You didn't want to reciprocate his compliment even though he did look awfully cute too.

He followed you to the living room.

"Whiskey?" You asked him.

"Nah, I gotta stay sober for this," he shook his head.

"Sober for what?" You asked quietly.

"I - ehm - I wanted to apologise. Like a man," he looked at you with a firm gaze, "I've been a dick and I've been treating you badly."

"Yeah," you nodded and folded your arms across your chest, "you've been acting like an ass. When did you realise?"

"It's embarrassing for me, but I honestly didn't realise before you started ignoring me. I was so used to having you around me all the time, and suddenly I missed you like crazy," he took a deep breath before he continued, "I was so sexually frustrated that I called a friend back home in California and told him about it all. I thought he would agree with me and call you stone-cold or something like that but instead he called me an idiot. He called me out for the way I've been treating you. He made me realise why you wanted to ask me out. I didn't even realise. I'm very sorry."

"It's okay," you said softly, "I know you didn't mean to."

"Good," Daveed nodded and looked like a schoolboy who'd just been scolded and you suddenly felt bad for him.

"I didn't mean to ignore your texts. After your time was up at the theatre, I wanted to keep seeing you - it was just too rough. I had to back off."

"I'm glad you took care of yourself. It's made me realise some stuff about myself that I want to change. I want to be better."

"And how do you plan on doing that?"

"Let me start by making it up to you," he smiled, "tomorrow's Valentines day. Let me treat you to dinner. Give you the proper date you deserve."

"I'm not going on a date with you just because you're sexually frustrated and you know I'm an easy fuck," you huffed.

"No! Never! But how about going on a date with me because I like you and I want to see where it could go?"

You shot him a look.

"I understand if you don't believe me but in the past couple of weeks I haven't just missed having sex with you. I've really missed... you. The goofing around, the banter, your infectious laughter. I want to treat you to a date. Let me take you out."

You looked at him suspiciously, "romantically?"

"Yes. Rafa was right. I have a crush on you too. Let's see where this goes."

A small smile crept onto your lips, "okay. If you're sure."

"I'm positive," he grinned and pulled you in for a hug, "fuck I've missed you."

@ramp-it-up

[ramp-it-up]

Youve made me ugly cry. But I love you! ❤️

This is the sweetest best thing. And as always I love they way you put all this language and culture in your stories.

Happy Valentine’s Day my love! 💜💜💜💜💜

Phakade

Daveed Diggs x South!African!Black!O.C

Set after City Lights.

Warnings:

A depiction of what I go through on a monthly

Poorly written but meh...I like it🙃

Pregnancy scare?

Time skip.

A.N: "Ngifunukaba nawe namhlanje, kuze kube ingunaphakade," means I wanna be with you now and forever. Happy Valentines Day❤️

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

10 minutes. That's how long Daveed had spent holding up Mawande's hair as she threw up, muttering the sentence "I swear to God, if I'm pregnant, ndizokubulala ngezandla zam (I will kill you with my bare hands)," every now and again. She didn't mean it one bit, hell she couldn't even kill a cockroach let alone her boyfriend but the mere thought that she could be pregnant scared her. She wasn't ready.

"Relax baby, you're still on IUD," Daveed reminded her softly. She held onto the toilet seat for support so she could glare at him. "You're on your period honey," he chuckled light heartedly. Before Mawande could say anything else, whatever she had left in her stomach came running up, throwing her head right back down. Finally she finished vomitting, and she could think straight.

Aunt Flo always brought with her the worst mood swings and horrible cramps and the copious amounts of vomit. It a made the ever so sweet Mawande a nightmare to be aroun for a good 3 days. It was as if every time someone said something or did something shitty she had stored it all away and waited for her period to unleash her absolute fury. And Daveed being the only one around her during this time, got the worst of it. She hated how she treated him so she'd always make up for her crappy behaviour the moment it was all over.

"But it's Valentines Dayyyy," she sobbed. Cue the mood swings. "I knoooww," Daveed mocked. She flipped him off and smacked him on his shoulder. "I'm sorry," he chuckled. She glared at him. "Yintoni ehlekisayo nge simo sam? (What's so funny about my situation?)" Daveed grabbed the damp towel from the sink and used it to wipe her mouth. "Nothing's funny, you just look really adorable like this," he shrugged. She frowned. "My face, is covered in vomit," she deadpanned. "Was," he corrected her as he finished wiping. "The water's hot so you can take shower; I will give you some privacy," Daveed said as he slowly backed out of the bathroom and away from Mawande's glare. She shook her head and chuckled lightly before getting undressed and stepping into the shower.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Mawande felt better. She was clean, she was comfortable and she was hungry. The mouth watering aroma in the kitchen wasn't helping her case. She walked into the kitchen to find her goofball boyfriend dancing and frying eggs. She sat down and watched in amusement. He wasn't really that bad. "The person who told you that you can dance belongs in prison," she commented. He jumped at the sound of her voice and shot her a playful glare. "I see you're feeling better," he snarked. She smirked. "Enjoy it while it lasts." He grinned. "Well seeing as Aunt Flo ruined our plans, I'll have to improvise." "Plans?" Mawande asked with a raised eyebrow. "Yep, we were gonna out, but seeing that you're unfit for society, we're going to have to stay in." She chuckled at his little jab at her mood swings. "Well then what do you have in mind?" "Well we could just order in and watch anything you wanna watch all day," he suggested. "What about you? Why don't we watch what you want?" "I value my safety and self esteem," he said. Mawande rolled her eyes.

"Breakfast?" he asked as he presented her with possibly the best breakfast ever known to man. "I love you, you know that?"

"I'll hold on to those words while you chew me out today," he chuckled.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

And that was how they spent the rest of the day. The cramps caught up with her during their binge of Bridgerton which saw Daveed having to run out to a nearby store because they had run out of painkillers. While at the store, he made sure to get her some snacks. He returned to their apartment in less than 20 minutes. She took the painkillers and was fine. She never vomitted again that day and hardly yelled at Daveed. In fact, this was the best she had ever been on her period.

Finally the sun was setting and the couple were on the spacious balcony watching the LA sunset. A soft piano began to fill the air, accompanied by a soft hum.

It was time.

Daveed got up and held his hand out to Mawande. "Dance with me." She smiled and accepted, getting up and pulling him closer toward her. "Wena uyintokozo yami. Uyisipho esihle empilweni yam (You're my delight. You're a wonderful gift to my life)," Mawande sang as they moved in sync. The couple sang and danced to the song, with Daveed even spinning Mawande.

However by the time she turned to face him again, he was on his right knee, with a velvet box in his hand that was home to a very expensive looking diamond ring. Mawande's eyes began to well up, as did Daveed's. There they were in sweats and t-shirts, hair in messy buns. This could've easily been the most unromantic setting but Daveed didn't care didn't care. He just needed Mawande and the ring. The sunset and the music were bonuses for him.

"Ngifunukuba nawe namhlanje, kuze kube ingunaphakade."

@ramp-it-up

[ramp-it-up]

This is such a surprise!

And I LOVE the premise. 🥰

This a special treat. You’re an amazing writer!

Happy Valentine’s Day! ❤️

Could you do like a short piece where Daveed and reader are a thing but not really a couple. And he ruins it by not wanting more but comes back and apologises. Thanks!

Note: Thanks anon! First time I’m writing Daveed. This was fun and challenging.

Word Count: 1.7K

Warnings: mentions of sex. Slight angst. I think that’s it but let me know

"U up?"

Two words and a question mark. That was all it took and you felt your heart start pounding in your chest. Your feet started moving around, unable to stay in one place. You had to shred the duvet, you had started sweating. Two words and a fucking question mark and he could make your body betray you. Two words and you were ready for him.

You had to actively remind yourself that you were in withdrawal. That you couldn't hit him back no matter what. That he hadn't treated you the way you deserved. That he was fine and sweet and wonderful - but a dick nonetheless.

Still, it was hard to resist temptation. If you finally allowed yourself to text him back he would be here in a jiffy. You needed it. You missed him. And suddenly everything came rushing back: Daveed's athletic body the first time you'd seen him jump around on stage, his smile as he had introduced himself to you, his teasing manner as he had thrown around millions of jokes to you and the rest of your cast-mates. How you had already fallen for his wicked charms by the end of the first rehearsal. How you had flirted desperately to get him to notice you, and how he had finally pulled you backstage and kissed you in secret. It had all lead to a daring affair between the two of you, Daveed fucking you roughly every day in between rehearsals and later in between shows. His long fingers curling inside you while you moaned his name, the taste of him on your lips, his demanding movements as he took you in various positions all over your dressing room.

And no one could know. Not even Jas or Leslie or Oak. Daveed had made you promise not to tell - that this was your personal thing. You had agreed and said 'of course' right before he had hoisted you up beside the powder room mirror and slid into you. At first, the sneaking around had been nothing but arousing - you one hundred percent condoned it; your only goal back then had been to keep fucking Daveed in your costumes, the blue revolutionary jacket always open against his toned chest, but as the weeks proceeded, you felt yourself wanting more from him.

You wanted to be able to snog him senseless every time you saw him. You wanted to intertwine your fingers with his in public. Treat him to dinner. Take him home. Watch movies on lazy Sundays. Run your hands over his abs in your own bed. Waking up to find him covering your body with kisses.

But Daveed had said no. That he didn't want those things. That he didn't want to engage in anything serious with someone he worked with. That you were just co-workers who helped each other relieve some of the stress that the highly demanding job craved. Nothing more. In other words, you deduced that you were his stress ball - and you got angry! You yelled, and you threatened to kick him out of your dressing room, and you even threw a small lipstick at him, but his chocolate brown eyes were so sweet and so kind that you eventually felt yourself nodding along to his arguments of how the two of you could mess up the entire production if you started dating and things didn't work out. You sighed and you nodded and you agreed with him. And not even ten minutes later had he pulled off your panties, bent you over the couch, and dropped to his knees behind you. A lousy way to make up for it.

You had let it continue like this for eight months until his contract finally ran out and you were no longer co-workers. You had been looking forward to this. On his last night at the theatre, Daveed had stumbled into your dressing room in his Jefferson robe. The door behind him had barely closed before he had ripped your corset open, his warm fingers immediately rolling your nipples they way he knew you liked it. He had pressed his pelvis up against you and whispered in your ear that he had been hard on stage all night, patiently waiting for the show to be over so he could come see you. And you had decided that now was the time; slowly, you had turned around in his arms with a smirk and you had asked him out seeing as you wouldn't be working together anymore. You had thought it was a sure thing. But Daveed had pulled down your pants mumbling "My contract's in effect until tomorrow," right before you had felt his tongue on your skin.

"So what happens if I ask you again tomorrow?" You'd panted as his tongue was joined by his fingers.

"It'll still be a no," he grinned up at you, apparently unaware of your aching heart. He was a good man. If he knew the effect he had on you, he would've either stepped back or stepped up.

"And what happens after tonight?" You'd asked.

"We keep fucking," he had grinned with a content sigh as he spread your legs apart.

That was five weeks ago.

Now you had endured five weeks of Daveed constantly texting you that he was stressed, or hard, or thinking about you. Five weeks of him sending you dirty texts explicitly describing what he wanted to do to you. Five weeks of you ignoring him completely.

And now you were staring at his text consisting of two words and a question mark, contemplating if a small toe-dip into your old addiction was such a catastrophe. You felt your phone buzz in your hand as another text from him ticked in: 'I know you're reading my texts. Please stop ignoring me I miss you.'

You almost choked. In the year you'd known Daveed this was the most sensitive he'd ever gotten with you. You read the second text over and over and over again contemplating what to do; text him back? Call him? Or keep ignoring him?

In the end, you decided to call him up. He needed to be told of. He answered before the fourth ring.

"Hey," he almost whispered.

"Daveed," you let out a sigh, "you can't keep texting me."

"I know. I know I'm sorry," he mumbled, "are you mad at me?"

"Of course I'm not mad at you," you said quietly, "but things can't go on like this."

"I know... Are you in love with me?" He said abruptly but in a soft voice.

You went completely quiet when you felt your heart ache. So he did know about it. He had managed to put two and two together... "it isn't fair of you to ask me that," you almost whispered, "you know I am."

Daveed went quiet too and you could hear his steady breathing on the other end of the phone line. After a couple of seconds he finally said, "can I come over?"

"I'm not sure it's a good idea."

"Please. I have to see you. I want to apologise properly," he groaned painfully, "can I please come over?"

Unable to resist him, you breathed a short "yes," and ten minutes later opened the door to him.

"Hey," his face curled up in a smile the minute you came into sight. He stepped closer to you, and pulled you in for a soft hug, "you look cute."

"Yeah, well thanks," you mumbled against his neck. You didn't want to reciprocate his compliment even though he did look awfully cute too.

He followed you to the living room.

"Whiskey?" You asked him.

"Nah, I gotta stay sober for this," he shook his head.

"Sober for what?" You asked quietly.

"I - ehm - I wanted to apologise. Like a man," he looked at you with a firm gaze, "I've been a dick and I've been treating you badly."

"Yeah," you nodded and folded your arms across your chest, "you've been acting like an ass. When did you realise?"

"It's embarrassing for me, but I honestly didn't realise before you started ignoring me. I was so used to having you around me all the time, and suddenly I missed you like crazy," he took a deep breath before he continued, "I was so sexually frustrated that I called a friend back home in California and told him about it all. I thought he would agree with me and call you stone-cold or something like that but instead he called me an idiot. He called me out for the way I've been treating you. He made me realise why you wanted to ask me out. I didn't even realise. I'm very sorry."

"It's okay," you said softly, "I know you didn't mean to."

"Good," Daveed nodded and looked like a schoolboy who'd just been scolded and you suddenly felt bad for him.

"I didn't mean to ignore your texts. After your time was up at the theatre, I wanted to keep seeing you - it was just too rough. I had to back off."

"I'm glad you took care of yourself. It's made me realise some stuff about myself that I want to change. I want to be better."

"And how do you plan on doing that?"

"Let me start by making it up to you," he smiled, "tomorrow's Valentines day. Let me treat you to dinner. Give you the proper date you deserve."

"I'm not going on a date with you just because you're sexually frustrated and you know I'm an easy fuck," you huffed.

"No! Never! But how about going on a date with me because I like you and I want to see where it could go?"

You shot him a look.

"I understand if you don't believe me but in the past couple of weeks I haven't just missed having sex with you. I've really missed... you. The goofing around, the banter, your infectious laughter. I want to treat you to a date. Let me take you out."

You looked at him suspiciously, "romantically?"

"Yes. Rafa was right. I have a crush on you too. Let's see where this goes."

A small smile crept onto your lips, "okay. If you're sure."

"I'm positive," he grinned and pulled you in for a hug, "fuck I've missed you."

@ramp-it-up