Imagines For Me & You

Siempre: Chato Santana/El Diablo - Suicide Squad 2016

Teen!Chato Santana (El Diablo) x teen!afab!trans masc!reader, friends to possible lovers, romantic

Chato goes to a party, dragging you along, but you both end up leaving early and spending time alone together.

Editing by the incredible . Seriously, could not have done this without her.

TW/CW: racism, transphobia, depressing thoughts, self-doubt, mentions of arson/murder, classism, paranoia.

Word count: 8.4+ K

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After all the years you'd known each other, Chato knew that parties were not your scene. They're too loud, have too many people, or are just irritating. You preferred solitude and silence to all the hustle and bustle of parties. But, as much as you disliked parties, Chato also knew that if he pulled out his puppy-dog eyes, he could get you to do just about anything.

You didn't even have to admit your weakness to him. He knew you too well for you to hide it. And, as good of a friend as he is, he often used it to his advantage to get what he wanted.

Frequently, he'd wondered why you'd fold. But when he got close to what he knew was the answer, he set the thought aside. Chato knew, deep down. He just didn't want to think about it and what it meant. He refused to acknowledge it for both your sakes.

Slowly though, his resolve was weakening.

The more he used your weakness against you, the closer he got to leaving the answer bare for both of you to witness.

On any other day, you'd be sitting in your room, probably doing homework or reading, but once again, he exploited your weakness. He'd been so adamant and sincere, using his beautiful eyes to entrance you like he knew they would. And, just as he predicted, you couldn't say no to him. So, Chato had, with all his wicked ways, convinced you to go to some rando's house for a party.

You'd complained the whole way and even before leaving, but, he'd just flashed you that smirk, something odd but calming in his eyes. It was as if he was saying "don't worry, I've got you".

It had worked, just like it always had and always will.

The house you were going to was in a wealthy part of L.A. with big houses and pretty lawns. The assholes who owned the place probably hired people like you and Chato, blue collars, to do the yard work and clean their pools. Because, of course, they want to spend all their money on a fancy house and an extravagant pool and bar to one-up everyone else but couldn't stand to lift a single fucking finger to do any work themselves.

But, maybe that was just the bitterness, resentment, and a tiny speck of jealousy talking.

Though, even if it was, your point stood.

As much as you hated to admit it, this was a part of L.A. people like you and Chato would never be able to get to unless you worked there or were just passing through, as you so regretfully are now.

The two of you, despite your better judgement, walked up to the lavish, clean house. It almost felt like another dimension. Too clean and polished—too different from what you were used to. The neighbourhood had an entirely different culture, and it resonated so deep you could feel it in your bones, setting your nerves alight and urging your flight response to kick in. Every piece of you screamed to leave and find someplace else to go to, and you really would've done it if not for Chato. Though, even having him with you wasn't enough to soothe all your unease.

As you looked around, you noticed the stupid shit that you'd never get to enjoy like them. The people who lived here had nothing better to do with their money than spend it on trivialities like a plain, white-person lawn and fancy door-knockers. While people like you worried about how you were gonna keep a roof over your heads and feed yourselves. It was constant, the fear of which paycheque wasn't going to last till the next one.