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myouicieloz · 7 months

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Heads will roll

Kim Minjeong x aespa 5thmember!reader

Synopsis: Your girlfriend promised you it was ok for you to match with your best friend, Yuna, for the upcoming Halloween party. However, with how she’s behaving all night, you simply had to drag her to and empty room and punish her.

Warnings: smut. sub!minjeong x dom!reader

Word count: 4.4k lol sorry

Notes: HAPPY HALLOWEEN!!!! I’ve tried my best but the verbs might still be all wrong… I hope u enjoy, tho!! ^^ i rlly like halloween kisses mwuah

You spent the whole evening apart from your best friends and bandmates, shooting your solo pictures for the group’s latest comeback. Since you were the last one to do so, you asked them to get back to the dorm and get ready for Ryujin’s party without you. You’d see each other soon enough, anyway, so it wasn’t that big of a deal.

They sent you countless pictures of them getting ready, and your heart ached to be making funny group memories with them, instead of taking a thousand pictures in a cold studio. It was for work, though, so you’d just have to deal with it.

After what it seemed like ages, your photoshoot was finally over, and you quickly made your way to the dorm to shower and get ready. It sucked to do your makeup by yourself, since Giselle always did it for you, and to not curl Ningning’s hair just as she liked it, but it was either that or you’d all be terribly late for the party, and no one would have that.

Ryujin’s Halloween party was one of the most expected events of the year, so, naturally, no one would want to be late. The girl knew how to host a party— it always had sickening decor, lots of creative and delicious drinks and, most important, secrecy. None of what you did ever got leaked, to ensure the guests always had a good time.

Which you always, always did.

“Woah!” You whistled as you entered Ryujin’s living room, getting the attention of your bandmates. They smiled at you, waving and calling you over.

The four girls were impeccable, each one looking just as gorgeous as ever: Giselle was dressed as a sexy jaguar, wearing a tight jumper with little feline ears; Ningning opted to go as a corpse bride, although her bloodied, ripped wedding dress barely reached her knees; Karina, as a pirate, hat carefully placed in her hands; and at last, your sweet girlfriend, looking lavish as Alice in Wonderland.

You smiled at the sight of her beautiful face, promptly reaching out to hug her, but Winter was having none of it. She didn’t push you, naturally, but her face was all flustered, and she looked livid, frowning as she checked you out.

“Is that really why you didn’t match with me?” Winter asked, offended. She was judging your Lara Croft costume with hard eyes, even though they lingered on the leather belt you wore for a tad too long. There were fake guns attached to them, too, and your hair was braided into two elaborate pieces all by yourself, your skillfulness making the hairstyle neat and composed, not a single strand out of place.

“We’ve had this conversation before.” you reminded her, ever so patient— being used were used to her defensiveness. Besides, you knew you looked good; a little harsh look from your girlfriend wasn’t going to smash out your confidence, “I had already promised Yuna I’d match with her. She arranged our costumes and everything months ago, remember?”

Winter rolled her eyes, murmuring something too low for you to hear, but visibly still annoyed, regardless of your explanation.

You did warn your girlfriend that you’d be matching with your best friend for Halloween, just like you always did ever since you could remember. However, Winter hoped you’d notice her subtle signs and realize she wanted you to match with her, as a couple, instead. After all, it was your first Halloween together, and Winter wanted it to be special.

“You look beautiful, by the way.”

“Yeah, whatever.” She brushed past you, scoffing. You could tell she was very much pissed by the way she stomped through your friends, mixing herself a drink with too much alcohol in it, as she completely turned her back to you.

It was quite unusual for her to drink, but you’ve gotten on her nerves enough to make Winter want to relieve some stress. It bothered her to have you choosing Yuna-subaenim over herself, your girlfriend, no matter how hard she tried to shake the venomous feeling off.

Naturally, Winter knows it’s silly to feel this insecure and jealous over a stupid costume, specially since you and Yuna have been friends since your rookie days— and you’ve only been dating for a couple of months.

Nonetheless, Winter can’t help but to be sulky besides Karina, downing her cup in a few, long gulps. She doesn’t even dislike Yuna, even though she wasn’t exactly friends with the girl, either. Winter found her kind and lovable enough, with her long hair and composed, yet bubbly remarks.

It simply unsettled your girlfriend, to see you matching with Yuna when she was so excited about your first Halloween together. You were Winter’s first partner, and the thought of wearing matching outfits had her all month wondering what to pick. There were just so many cool options, and she was so excited… Which was why having you mention Yuna had already bought you identical costumes— just like she did every year, as long as Winter could remember, — was like a bucket of cold water being thrown in her head.

Of course, had your girlfriend told you wearing couple outfits to the party was that important to her, you would’ve simply brushed Yuna off, claiming you’d comply with your girlfriend’s wishes this year. However, she said nothing, so you naturally didn’t think much of it, brushing it off.

However, Winter felt a bitter taste in her mouth as she stared at you and Yuna, looking pretty much like twins if it weren’t for you towering over the girl, hair much longer and darker. It was as though she were fighting her first battle, a silent, passive one with your best friend, and she had just lost.

Winter really wasn’t going to hide her pout for the rest of the night. She’d allow herself that, at least.

Your girlfriend behaves like nothing but a fucking brat the whole afternoon.

She makes sure to be extra touchy with people— much unlike her nature, laughing hard and smiling at whatever it is that Jaehyun was saying. The boy was as boring as they came, and she’d stopped listening to his ramble minutes ago. Now, her eyes were trained on you, with every action calculated to bring you to the edge. From the way her slick fingers traced his skin, to her leaning to listen better, since the music is so loud, isn’t it?

You let her be, allowing Winter to celebrate her little tantrums alongside her members. Despite her obvious confrontation with you, she genuinely seems to be enjoying herself: laughing, drinking and joking with the girls and other close friends on the dance floor. So you let her have her little victory, observing from afar as you enjoy your night just the same; Even though your eyes narrow once you feel her subtly— almost unnoticeably, ducking from your touch, when you join the girls after hanging out with your other friends for a while.

In fact, Winter’s cold shoulder gave you plenty of time to think about the ways you’d punish her for her foolish behavior. You licked your lips at the thought of having little Alice in Wonderland all spread open just for you, crying as you deny her orgasms over and over until her pretty, abused cunt is all red and sore, drenching and clenching over the slightest brush of your fingers. It’d be such a heavenly sight: the girl on all fours, screaming and pleading for you to touch her anywhere, to do anything to her or else she’d explode.

However, you remain composed, your face giving none of your impurities away as you twist the ice in your whiskey and patiently listen to whatever funny story is being told by Chaeryeoung in the corner you all stand. You could feel the avalanche of thoughts and ideas going over and over through your mind, aching to make your girlfriend wither and destroy her petite body, as you made sure to let her know who possessed her in every way.

Meanwhile, Winter was walking through a dangerous path, she knew it as much. The feeling of your eyes poking wholes on her back was dense enough to send electric shocks through her entire body, and she was well aware of you watching her every move. She smiled to herself, glad to have your full attention despite feeling like such a loser, earlier. The thought of being punished for all of her bratty actions, too, aroused her perhaps a bit too much to keep her from being good. So she closed her eyes for a moment, took a deep breath, and smiled again, humming to herself as she knew her night was barely getting started.

“Hey, if you’d like we could, ahn, keep our conversation somewhere quieter…” Winter heard Jaehyun say, lips dangerously close to her ear. She was about to brush him off when he was abruptly shoved backwards, and soon enough she felt a strong grip on her waist.

She couldn’t contain a smile, hearing your harsh voice echoing from above her tiny frame.

“I suggest you keep your _hands_ to yourself, subaenim, if you want them intact.” You growled, turning your girlfriend to you as you pushed her upstairs, opening doors until you found an empty room. You shoved Winter on the bed without delicacy, smiling slightly to see her bounce a little on the mattress, in response to your touch. She was so petite—even now, staring at you behind her lashes.

“Fucking whore.” You cursed, taking your time unbuckling your numerous belts as she stared at you, licking her lips at the sight of your hands putting on work. She needed them on herself, immediately. “Throwing yourself at that fucker like a cheap slut. I guess that is just what you are, right?” You said, gripping her face. “A cheap fucking slut.”

Winter’s pupils were as blown out as yours, and her heart was beating so loud she was sure it echoed loudly through the bedroom. It was so hot for her to have you like this: mad out of your mind, handling her like a doll. It was a deep contrast from your caring, worried nature, one that she loved to experience from time to time. And the best part was that she got to have this feral side of you all to herself. You were hers, and hers alone.

No stupid fucking costume would change that.

She nodded as best as she could, since your touch was strong in order to keep her still.

“Say it.”

“I’m just a cheap slut.” Her reply came immediately, as Winter’s eyes remained locked on your face.

You kissed her deeply in response, exploring all the possible places of her mouth. Your hands went down her neck, blocking her airways just enough to make your girlfriend sigh, lightheaded.

“Perfect, baby.” You praised, sucking on her pulse point. “And who owns you?”

Winter’s hands found their way to yours, even though her touch wasn’t meant to make you stop.

She simply had to feel you, to have your skin on hers. It was a necessity to taste you and to have you taste her, too. It was taking you too long to touch her, already: she was feeling like her whole body was going to explode.

“You, unnie.” She breathed.

You stopped your work on her neck, now sucking at her earlobe as you whispered. “Just that? I’m starting to think you don’t want me to do anything to you at all; you just wanted to fuck that stupid ass guy to piss me off.”

She whined as you distanced yourself, opening her legs so you could place yourself between them. She looked like a painting, with her shoulder-length hair all disheveled and flustered face, trying to gather her breath and her thoughts. You allowed her to do so, squeezing and brushing your hands up and down her thighs while waiting for her next move.

As if Winter could ever concentrate with you touching her like that.

Pulling you by your pants—she couldn’t help but to look for your belt, biting her cheek to keep a smile from adorning her face as she found it in your hands, already—she pleaded. “Please, mommy,” She opened her legs even more, with her hands on your neck to kiss you again, “I’ve been so bad tonight… please, please punish me.”

You smiled, thinking about all the ways you’d ruin her through the night. She was so beautiful, so eager to surrender herself to you completely. It warmed your heart with both desire and lust, to know you had her to yourself.

“You’ll be well punished, Minjeongie. Don’t worry,” You promised, leaving wet kisses against her shoulders. “I’ll ruin you, so you’re reminded to not even look at anyone else, my love. You’re fucking mine.”

As you shared another wet, lustful kiss, Minjeong couldn’t help but to feel like the luckiest girl in the world.

You interlock her wrists with one of your belts, wiggling it to make sure it wasn’t too tight on the girl’s skin; just enough to make it a slightly ache. “Do you know your words?”

“Yes.”

“And what will you do if you want me to stop?”

“I’ll use them.” She assured you, nodding.

“Very well, then,” You took her in, looking so pretty messed up like that. You’d have to leave her like that more. “On your fours.”

Winter got half-up, cocking her head to the sides as she sent you a confused look. You were both still all dressed up. Had you forgotten about that detail, perhaps?

“Dress stays on,” You mumbled, groping her body through the fabric. “You look too pretty in that outfit. It nearly made me fuck you in the middle of the room, for everyone to see, when I first saw you.”

She giggled, delighted to have your praises. Her face was met with a pout soon after, though, as she sighed, defiantly. “If only you’d matched with me, instead of that bi—”

Winter lets out a loud grasp once you turn her around, adjusting her body roughly on your thighs.

“Shut the fuck up.” You told her. “Toys don’t talk. Specially ones that behaved so poorly the whole night.” Pushing her tiny dress up, you gave her ass a good squeeze. “Now, count. 10 for each cheek, since I’m feeling patient, for now.”

Winter couldn’t suppress the shiver that went through her body as she heard your words. She bit her lips, not wanting to let you see how much your tone aroused her; so drenched already, and you’ve only made out for a few minutes.

“O-one,” She took a deep breath as you went on, kissing her back and her ass until you’d finished, your hands’ impressions well painted on her milky skin. “T-two…”

You were surprised she didn’t lose count, not even once, even though her face was already glistening with a few tears, and she was shaking her head vigorously. “T-ten!”

You let out a proud smirk once you got her spankings over with, helping her up. “You did good, love.” You assured your girlfriend, kissing her gently to make sure she wasn’t overwhelmed. You let Winter take some time to breathe, nodding as she got her body closer to yours as much as she could, since her hands were still locked up.

Winter was always needy and touchy. You laugh at her exasperate touches, kissing her as you guide her body to lay on the bed completely. You tear down panties with hunger, soon taking out her white stockings, too, until you manage to push up the skirt of her dress and leave her cunt bare, inviting you over.

“You look so pretty, love. All dolled up and ready for me. So fucking hot tonight, baby.”

All she could do was nod, lost in pleasure as you kiss along her thighs. She instantly opens them more, hoping you’d mark them —just as you both liked it. You took your time pinching, sucking and bruising her perfect skin, enjoying the sound of the pornographic moans that left her mouth. You were drenched yourself, too, at the sight of your pretty girlfriend’s face as she lets out incoherent cries and whines.

Your fingers brush her cunt, never more than a light tease over her heated body as you add, “Wearing this little dress like the whore you are. Do you even have any idea of how delicious you look right now? Of how many people ogled you all night, desperate to touch you?” You giggled to yourself at the sound of her frustrated huffs, tracing your fingers to her slit before giving her pussy a long lick, “They can’t, though. You’re all mine. Mine to mark, mine to toy with. My doll.”

She couldn’t even answer as you dive in, sucking her pretty cunt vigorously as Winter wriggles and tries her best to get a hold of your hair, which makes you nibble your teeth though her sex, provoking her.

“M-more, more, mommy. Please! Oh shit—“ She was a mess, feeling even more as if she were going to erupt. Your hands kept touching her everywhere, with your nails leaving long, red lines from her forearms to the ends of her thighs.

As you kept on with an even faster rhythm, you could feel her inner walls clenching and her eyes starting to close in pleasure. So, naturally, you subsided your movements, allowing Winter’s cunt no more than a few kitten licks. She opened her eyes immediately, looking at you so adorably confused and frustrated.

“Do you really think you deserve to cum, my sweet?” Your fingertips entered her hole just enough so you could gather some of her wetness and taste it yourself, giving her sex a light slap. It made her joint, and you smiled at how sensitive she was, all bruised and marked. “With how much of an ungrateful slut you’ve been all night, hiding from my touches and presenting yourself to others…”

Still, she shook her head vigorously, “I’ll make it up to you, mommy, I promise.” Winter pleaded, with her best, sweetest voice. “Let me cum, please! Even though I don’t deserve it.”

Her obvious attempts to get herself off made you scoff, although you positioned yourself between Winter’s small body once again. She was your little doll, after all, so pretty dressed up as Alice in Wonderland.

And you have all the time in the world to edge her until she’s a withering mess, at the dorms, anyway.

Positioning your index and middle finger on her entrance, you brushed her hair off her face. “Work for it then, doll. If you want to get off so bad, do it.”

Winter’s eyes widened at your suggestion, and she let her shoulders down at the thought of having to do all the work. She’d never done such a thing, specially since you were always so eager to be the cause of her moans as she fell into pieces. As she opened her mouth to whine again, though, a simple look from you shut her out: the girl immediatly knew it was either that or nothing. Logically, your girlfriend bit her lip, pressing herself against your fingers as she felt the feeling of them in her tight cunt. She let out a loud moan, fucking herself on your fingers until the knot on her stomach soon presented itself back.

“Stop staring at me like that.” She said, looking the other way to not acknowledge you observing her, since she couldn’t push you herself. You curled your fingers inside of her, giggling at her little screams and surprised huffs.

“But you look so pretty, specially like this. Only for me.” You were making your best to follow through your words, even though Winter’s sounds and movements were making you crazy. You simply needed to grab her pretty little waist and take her until she was really screaming, crying loudly for you to stop.

However, you had to be patient, or else your girlfriend wouldn’t be taught her lesson. One she so desperately needed, so she would communicate to you better.

“Only for you, always.” She promised, her breathing erratic as she twitched under you. “Mommy, I’m gonna—please, please, let me cum.”

“Do it, love. You can cum, now.” You smiled, kissing Winter’s thighs as you bit them gently.

That did it for her; with a loud cry, she came all over your hand, trying to get your fingers off her pussy once she got too sensitive. You retrieved your fingers, sucking them clean as Winter gestured for you to set her hands free, which you promptly did. She immediately went to your lap, wrapping her fingers around your neck as she marked your skin, just as you had done to her, earlier.

“Thank you mommy.” She murmured, still light-headed and needy from her orgasm. You loved how dependent she got afterward, always requiring many cuddles and kisses after you fucked. You loved your girlfriend deeply, and she’d always be the number one in your life. “I wore the dress just for you, you know? I saw your look when we passed by the costume shop.”

You hummed, throwing your head slightly to allow Winter to suck on your neck as she liked to, “You’re such a little evil being, Minjeong.” She giggled, trailing kisses through your face until she captured your mouth, pulling you in for a long, slow kiss.

“I’m only yours.” She moved her bangs out of her face. “Are you only mine, too?”

“Of course, baby.” You frowned, squeezing her tiny waist to assure her of so. “I belong to you, just as you belong to me.”

“Good.” She whispered, feeling relieved to have that envious feeling finally off her shoulders. She didn’t master the courage to look at you, as she added. “I just wish we had matched, tonight.”

You held her even closer, kissing both of her cheeks repeatedly. “We will, next year. Ok?” You winked, managing to get a smile from her at the subtle promise. “You have to tell me when something’s bothering you, baby. I thought you were cool with me matching with Yuna and all.”

“I thought I was cool with it, too.” She shrugged, kicking her feet. “But I guess I wasn’t.”

You kissed her once again, hoping to have her know how much you loved her.

“It’s all good now, though. Come on, the party’s still going. Let’s head back?”

Winter’s head cocked to the side at your words, and soon her hands were toying with the hem of your crop top. She smirked, trying to look as innocent as she could at the thought of keeping you all to herself.

“Not yet… still want to get more of what’s mine, then.” You smiled back at the auburn haired girl, placing your arms up to allow her to get rid of the piece. “Besides, you’ve made me do all the work just now… I think I deserve a compensation.”

You scoffed, but pushed Winter’s body back on the bed just the same. You were her girlfriend, after all. You’d always spoil her rotten and indulge to her wishes.

“Bratty ass.”

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mopopshop · 13 days

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Hi!!! Im genuinely OBSESSED w ur writing like 😫😫 I was just wondering if you could write something (could be a fic or hc) about emily and the reader going through their pregnancy journey? I can't stop thinking about emily as a mom 😭 Thank you so much!! ❤️❤️

Emily as a Mama!!

when you first told her you were pregnant she couldn’t help but tell anyone in a 5 mile radius

she’s so attentive, waiting on you hand and foot

she definitely does the thing where she stands behind you and lifts your belly to ease the weight

she doesn’t alert her fans or the media until you physically have the baby (even though people speculate) and it’s like the gag of the century when she posts on her ig a pic of a newborn 😭😭

sits and talks to the bump for hours and hours at a time, even if you’re asleep she’ll just sit there retelling like the plot of a show or something

it becomes a habit of hers to constantly have her hand on your belly just rubbing the bump

constantly reassuring you when you feel insecure and hormonal

the thought of your cravings make her genuinely gag but she never shamed you for having weird ones

definitely a girl mom (just thinking about when she was coaching youth girls basketball 🙈)

she sits and watches little youtube and tiktok tutorials for unique hairstyles for her

was always the first one up in the newborn stage to help change diapers or put her back to bed

giving in to any and everything that they ask for, she doesn’t even pretend to say no she just immediately gives in

you always yell at her for that bcs she stay spoiling them😭😭

can’t stand the “let them cry” rule and will actually tear up at the sound of her baby being upset

“Emily put her down” you say trying to be stern.

She pouts, whining “Nooo, whyy…” Emily shoves her face into your baby girls neck as she continues to cry “you’re so mean to her”

“Mean how? She needs to learn how to self soothe” you chuckle

“The fuck does she need to self soothe for if she’s got me”

Seeing Emily so protective and motherly over your child makes your heart sing and your face crack with a smile “You spoil her too much, Em”

“And I will continue to do as such”

hailey appoints herself as the go to babysitter and never complains, she’s literally the best aunt

em loves to bring her to practice and the team MELTS over her

they’re constantly showering you two and the baby with gifts

they give her a little baby mystics jersey

imagine team media day with emily and your daughter like they did with Katie on indiana fever ☹️☹️💕🫶🏾 example 1

the makeovers 😖 messy makeup, half painted nails, glitter in her hair and a tiara she loves it all

gets a new tattoo with your baby’s name on it

she’s very clear on separating basketball and her family, she does everything i her power to not let her career get in the way of spending time with you or the baby

seriously so torn up about it if you and the baby can’t make away/international games

will call every night to see you two and she gets so sad when she has to hang up

“mama misses you so much, baby” 💔💔

bringing you up in every interview

“if it wasn’t for my beautiful wife and daughter I don’t know where I’d be”

is that player who brings her kid to post game interviews

has her on her lap the whole time and there’s so many cute moments of baby girl just babbling and grabbing stuff

she definitely spoils your kids but she knows when to turn it on and off, shes never unfair with discipline and she absolutely never lays a hand on them

always posting little videos and pictures on social media bcs she loves to brag

would never force her kid into basketball, only encourage it if she ever decided to take interest

just the best mom and constantly talks about how motherhood has changed her for the better

also THANK YOU FOR LOVING MY WRITING TWIN i really appreciate all the love 💕💕

#women’s basketball #ncaa women’s basketball #ncaa #wlw #wnba #emily engstler #emily engstler x reader #emily engstler headcannons

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quiet-onset · 7 months

Text

fever pitch

pairing: michael berzatto x reader

wc: 12.1k+, somebody sedate me

summary: an assortment of your time with michael berzatto

warnings: no use of yn, smut, so minors dni!!!, unprotected sex, sex under the influence, by ext. dubcon since reader is unaware at the time, oral (f receiving), drug use and addiction (character and reader), canonical character death/suicide mention, pregnancy mention (sorry not sorry), please do not read if any of this is triggering for you!!

a/n: beta’d by @brattylyricist bc she has no other choice than to put up with my bs!! also bc the content matter here is triggering and i have personal experience seeing the damage that addiction can do to someone you love, I’m including national hotline phone numbers here. please don’t be afraid to seek help if you need it: national suicide prevention hotline: dial/text 988, substance abuse and mental health services administration: 1-800-662-HELP. again, please do not read this if any of the warnings are triggering for you!!!

The day went by in a blur. You got up, showered, did your hair and makeup. You ate the little breakfast you could stomach. You put on an acceptable black dress and matching high heels.

You drove to the church — tried to sit in the back, but Sugar pulled you to the front pew, right next to her. You stood behind the lectern and said kind, loving words. You drove to the cemetery and watched as his casket was lowered into the cold. And you went to the repass, doing your best to stay out of Donna’s way, knowing how she gets when she’s both sad and under pressure.

But you hadn’t cried.

You sat on the stairs with your wine glass filled with water as everyone mingled, exchanging condolences about your dearly departed. You let your heart ache as you downed the glass, stories of him being told by this person and that.

But you still hadn’t cried.

Donna burst out of the kitchen, her hair a bit disheveled and eyes red from crying. “Have you seen Carmy?”

You couldn’t help but let out a sigh. It must have been the seventh time she had asked. “No, Donna, I have not seen Carmy.”

“What a fuckin’ help you are.” She snapped, pulling a box of cigarettes from her apron. With her other hand, she snatched your empty wine glass and turned on her heel. “I do all this work, and I can’t even go outside to smoke.”

You followed close behind, huffing as you stood. “I thought Sugar was with you.”

“Sugar is with her.” The middle child interrupted. She gave you a weak, empathetic smile when you entered the kitchen behind Donna. A wine glass of her own in hand as she sat on the kitchen counter, she sipped on red wine. “But Sugar can’t cook.”

“Not like Carmy, you can’t. Get your ass off my fuckin’ counter, shoo!” Donna swatted at her daughter’s thigh until she hopped off the counter, snatching her half full wine glass as well. She downed the wine in a couple seconds, and you and Sugar shot each other a look. It was passing, but you both understood the meaning — Donna needed a break.

“She doesn’t have to cook, Donna. Just watch everything. Keep an eye on it, y’know?” You tried to intervene but she was having none of it.

“I don’t need an eye. I need hands! I need someone who can cook!” Donna threw the glasses into the sink, and you flinched when they shattered against the metal. “Fuck!”

“I’ll do it, Donna.” From the shakiness in her hands, you know she’s so close to losing it. To taking everything in the kitchen and throwing it on the ground, at the wall, at whoever she deemed worthy of having something thrown at them. “I know I’m not Carmy, but I’m better than Sug.”

“Hey!” Sugar sounded defensive, but you and Donna barely paid her any mind.

“You can’t fuckin’ cook, Sugar, get over it.” Her mother snapped. “I’d normally have Mikey do it, but he—”

“Ma.” You gently placed your hands on Donna’s shoulders, and a bit of the tension fell from them. You hadn’t called her that in a long time — it no longer felt right — but doing so made her recall happier times. You looked her in the eye, reassured her. “You go outside and smoke. I’ll take over for a few minutes, okay?”

Her eye twitched ever so slightly, and she was still shaking, but you could tell it grounded her a bit. “If everything else goes to shit, make sure the fish is good, alright?”

“Save the fish. Got it.”

Donna nodded, pulling a cigarette out of the box. Then she finally walked toward the exit of the kitchen, twirling it in her hand. Just before she left, she glanced at you again, her voice shaky. “You.. you would’ve been good for him. If he’d let you.”

When Donna left, there were tears in your eyes. Sugar watched to see if you’d need comfort, especially after one of those tears fell from your eye. But you were quick to wipe it away, taking a deep, shuddering breath. You turned to Sugar, gesturing toward the sink filled with broken glass. “Could you…?”

“Yeah. Yeah, of course.” She was quick to do so, grabbing a paper bag to put shards in. You both worked in a comfortable silence. The only sound was the clinking of glass against each other. Sugar battled over whether she wanted to speak, but she figured if she needed kind words, then you definitely did. “Ma’s right, y’know. Michael lo—”

“Sug. Please.”

“Okay.”

There was a pause as you stirred a pot of stew, then you sighed. “I know he did. As much as he could anyway.”

—

Michael met you on a sober streak. He’d been clean for three weeks, the longest stint thus far. When Richie found out about his addiction, he dragged Michael to Narcotics Anonymous. You’re gonna die cooking at the restaurant or doing something cool, not fuckin’ OD, Richie had sneered in the car.

He sat in a chair, his arms crossed over his chest, grumbling like a child. Despite being sober for three weeks, he maintained that he didn’t need to come to these meetings. To Michael, this was just proof that he could quit whenever he wanted to. Regardless, Richie drove him to every meeting and planned to do so until he seemed ready to go on his own.

The host of the meeting, Brayden, greeted Michael with a kind smile, but he responded with a grunt. For three weeks, Michael sat silently in that circle and said absolutely nothing. He wondered what it took to get the man to speak, but of course, he’d never pressure anyone to share before they were ready.

Then you walked in. You seemed a bit more put together than others in the room, but still a bit shy. An oversized sweater wrapped around your frame, and you pulled it even closer, eyes glancing around the room. You nodded a greeting to Brayden before sitting in the circle across from Michael. When you noticed him glancing your way, you offered a friendly smile, and he returned it.

He knew then that he’d return to his weekly NA meetings.

The session started shortly after, but Michael was only half listening. He was mostly glancing back and forth from whoever was speaking to you. He liked the way you gave your full attention to every person who spoke, even when they said things you didn’t agree with — he could tell when you didn’t, a little crease would form for the briefest moment between your brows. But it always disappeared, and your attentive expression returned.

“Alright, would anyone else like to speak? Someone new maybe?” Brayden asked, quickly glancing at Michael.

He’d never admit it, but his heart was pounding at the idea of airing out his dirty laundry to a group of strangers. He took a deep, nervous breath, but then another voice spoke up.

“I’ll go.” You said, watching the relief wash over Michael’s face. You cleared your throat, pulling your sweater closer as you introduced yourself. “I was in a car accident two years ago. It, uh, it killed my son… That plus divorce plus prescribed oxy apparently equals addiction.”

The slightly playful lilt in your tone made Michael chuckle quietly, though you both knew nothing was funny. Your eyes met his, and for a moment, your heart skipped a beat. Still, you continued, “I’ve been sober for two months, but my son’s birthday is coming up in a few months, so I, uh, needed a meeting. But yeah, that’s my story.”

After the meeting, you stood by the snack table, nursing a cup of coffee. Michael approached cautiously as he poured his own coffee. “Can I ask what his name was?”

You looked up from your paper cup into warm brown eyes. “Sorry?”

“Your son?”

“Oh.” You paused, and your heart sank at the reminder that your baby was gone. “His name was Benson.”

He snorted into his coffee cup, trying to hide his quiet laugh by clearing his throat. You noticed the light in his eyes, and it inexplicably made a smile pull at your lips too. “Sorry.” He said. “Benson’s a great name.”

“It’s a dorky name. Dorky first name, anyways. It’s what his father wanted.” You confirmed with a chuckle. “But it was my son’s name. So I liked it.”

“Course.” He smiled at you kindly. He was charming, and you liked it. “I’m Michael, by the way.”

You gave him your name and shook his hand. You went against your better judgment and invited him to your place. You both spent all night wrapped in your sheets, in each other’s embrace. He left for work the next morning but not before getting your phone number.

You texted Michael and arranged to meet up again that night. Then, you called your sponsor.

That was the beginning of the end.

—

“Cousin, your girlfriend’s here!”

“Not his girlfriend, Richie.”

“Not yet.”

“Send her back!” Michael’s voice floated in from the back of the kitchen.

You sidestepped Richie and walked through the kitchen, saying your hellos to everyone. “Where’s he at?” You asked.

“The office.” Tina answered, lightly nudging you in his direction. “He’s not having the best day.”

You nodded your understanding and proceeded to the small office where Michael was leaning back in his chair, hand over his face as he spoke into his cell phone. “No, I just don’t understand why we keep talking about the same shit.”

You leaned against the doorframe, giving him a small smile. He gave you the tiniest acknowledgment, a small wave, before spinning around in the chair to face the wall. You scoffed jokingly, closing the door behind you, “Well, fuck me, I guess.”

“Carmy, you’re a big shot in some fancy, five-star, European restaurant, what the fuck do you wanna be here for?” He asked exasperatedly. There’s a short pause, mumbling from the other side of the phone before Mikey throws a hand in the air. “Five star, three star, who gives a shit? Look, Carmen, you’re doing big things, good things. Stay in Europe. I gotta go.”

When Michael hung up, a long, tired sigh racked his body. “This would be a perfect time for—”

“One month.” You interrupted. You knew all too well where his mind was headed. He was spiraling into that dark, secluded state of mind you’d found him in just a few weeks after you met. He’d relapsed after a particularly hard day at the restaurant, something about finances and paying back a loan that he refused to tell you more about. But you’d helped him then. Picked him up, dusted him off, and called his sponsor — Started him back on the path of sobriety again. If you could help it, he’d never reach that lonely place again.

“One month.” He repeated to himself. Then, he spun around. “Hey.”

“Hey.” You walked over to him, standing between his spread legs. He immediately rested his forehead on your belly, groaning when you carded a hand through his hair. Your other hand rubbed circles into his back, the tense muscles a sharp contrast to his soft black locks. “I take it that was your brother?”

He grunted affirmatively. “Keeps askin’ to work here.”

“At The Beef?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, isn’t he a professional chef? Why don’t you let him?”

“C’mon, sweetheart, you’re supposed to be on my side.” He grumbled, pulling you down to sit on his thigh.

“I am on your side.” You chuckled. You took your thumb and rubbed gently at the spot between his eyes until the frustrated crease disappeared. “‘M just saying, he’s a trained chef, this is a restaurant. I don’t get what’s not adding up for you, baby.”

Michael sighed, looking up at you. He brushed a stray hair from your face and smiled up at you. You smiled back encouragingly, patiently waiting until he found the right words. “Carm doesn’t know.” He admitted.

“Carm doesn’t know…?”

“About the painkillers. And I don’t know if I’m ready to tell him.” His brow furrowed once more, making you frown. “I mean, he’s got three Michelin stars. The kid’s a fuckin’ genius in the kitchen — he doesn’t need to be around all this shit, all my shit.”

You let his words sink in, deep in thought as you stroked his hair. Your bottom lip caught between your teeth, you thought about all the stories Mikey and Richie told you about the youngest Berzatto. How he could be quiet and unassuming, but, with a little encouragement, always came out of his shell around family and friends. Maybe, for Carmen, it wasn’t about the restaurant.

“Maybe he just wants to see you.” You said pensively. “I mean it’s been how long since he’s been home?”

A scoff passed Michael’s lips. “A long fuckin’ time.”

“Maybe the restaurant is a pretense. I mean, he would come work at The Beef and stuff, but maybe he just wants to see you again. Hang out with his big brother like he used to.”

His thumb stroked your thigh as he looked at you, silently admired the way you seem to come in and make all his problems melt away with a single thought, a word, a smile. “What about the whole bein’ an addict part?” He asked.

“You don’t have to tell him right away.” You suggested. “Baby steps.”

“You are too fuckin’ good to me, y’know that?” He grinned back at you. When you rolled your eyes playfully, he pinched your side, making you jolt and laugh.

You pulled his arm around your waist, settling your hands at the nape of his neck. “So, you’re letting your brother work at the restaurant?”

“How ‘bout we just start with a visit, hm? I’ll tell him to come home for a week or somethin’, stay at mine.” He compromised. “Baby steps.”

“Oh, I’m so proud of you.” You cooed playfully, pinching his stubbly cheeks.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” He swatted your hands away, leaning forward to press wet kisses to the column of your neck. He smirked as you suddenly ceased your pinching, bracing your hands on his shoulders. “You should let me return the favor, sweetheart.”

“Not in your office!” You gasped when he bit down on the juncture between your neck and shoulder before soothing it with his tongue.

“Why not?” He chuckled, lifting you onto his desk. He probably should have been a little more worried about his records and papers getting folded under the swell of your ass, but all he could focus on was the small strip of fabric covering the part of you he wanted to devour. “Wouldn’t you prefer I be addicted to my girl than painkillers?”

“That’s not, ah,” You jolted above him, the sensation of his thumb pressing into your sensitive clit knocking you back to your elbows, “That’s not funny, Mikey.”

“What’s Brayden say?” He muttered, pulling your panties to the side. His fingers expertly tugs your lips apart, and he pressed a soft teasing kiss to your hood-covered button. “Humor’s my coping mechanic.”

“M-mechanism.” The correction came out in a soft moan. Just then, his words hit you — his girl. He’d never said that before. All the times you’d kissed, made out, had sex, he’d never called you his girl. You liked the way it sounded, the way it rolled off his tongue effortlessly. “Your girl?”

“Yeah.” He pulled away, his hands finding your calves as he looked at you. His brown irises held the tiniest bit of vulnerability in them, an emotion reserved for you and you only. “I mean, if you wanna be. Do you?”

You smiled and encircled his wrists, tenderly stroking his skin with your thumbs. It was a simple touch, but it made the hairs on his arm stand at attention. Strange how you always managed to do that. “Of course I do.”

“Good.” He exhaled. His large hands slid up your inner thighs, pausing at your core. With a gentle touch, he tugged your folds apart, watching the way your entrance fluttered. His mouth dropped open, and he let his saliva drip down onto your pussy, rubbing it into your clit with the pad of his thumb. “Now, get comfy, sweetheart, ‘cause I missed this pretty little pussy.”

—

“Where is it? Where is it? Where the fuck is it?”

You’d torn your apartment apart. Old storage boxes that gathered dust were now open and emptied. Your clothes were thrown all over the place. You managed to push the couch and check the floor, but you found nothing but crumbs and linty hair ties.

Tears started to blur your vision, and your chest felt heavy, like the entire world sat directly on your lungs. Your breath was just as shaky as your hands that tugged at the roots of your hair. You ran to your mess of a kitchen and scrambled for your phone, typing the familiar number from memory.

Your ex-husband answered on the third ring. “Hello?”

“Where’s Eli?” You heard him call your name, but his confusion was the last thing on your mind. “Benson’s stuffed cow, Eli. Where is it? I can’t find it.”

He sighed, his voice lower and more scratchy than you remembered. He must’ve been crying, too, you thought. “How am I supposed to know?”

“You helped me move out. Did you take it? I swear to god—”

“I didn’t take the damn cow.” He snapped. “Do you think I’m that selfish that I would keep it from you?”

“I didn’t call to rehash our marriage, alright? I need Eli, okay? I need him.”

The line went silent. You both knew you weren’t talking about the stuffed animal anymore. He let out a deep breath. “Have you tried therapy?”

“I don’t need to pay a bunch of money to have someone tell me I need to get over the death of our child.” You hissed, scrunching your nose at the suggestion.

“Have you been to his grave?”

You wiped your tears away, thinking about the cold, unfeeling stone that solidified your son’s death. You hadn’t seen it since the funeral. You took a shaky breath, “Do you have Eli or not?”

“I don’t.”

He tried to speak once more, but you already hung up. You couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe without this one piece of your son. Tears dropped onto your phone screen as you scrolled and scrolled through your contacts, finding the name you were looking for. The line rang three times before a deep voice greeted you. “What’s up?”

“I need to see you. Where can we meet?”

Hours later, Michael was walking toward his apartment building with Carmy. He’d been purposefully avoiding bringing up The Beef, and luckily Carmy didn’t push. Instead, his little brother decided to bring up the little stuffed animal that Michael had pushed into his jacket pocket. “So,” Carmy started quietly, “You startin’ a collection with that thing or…?”

“Shut the fuck up.” Michael laughed. He pulled the stuffed cow out of his pocket. “It’s my girl’s. Remember I told you about her son?”

“Yeah.”

“Sometimes she likes to talk to me about him. She brought this over to my place a few weeks ago to show me. Apparently, the kid was obsessed with cows.”

“No shit. Look at you, bein’ vulnerable.” Carmy chuckled in amazement, admiring his brother’s new relationship.

“Yeah, whatever. The, uh, anniversary of his death is coming up, and she’ll probably be wanting this, so you can meet her while you’re here if she’s feeling up to it. Sound good?”

“‘F course.”

When Michael unlocked the front door, he was met with chaos. The front door banged into the coat closet door, somehow left open with coats strewn across the floor. The rug in his living room was flipped over, and the couch was now far from the wall. Michael was only brought back to reality by the stunned woah that passed through Carmy’s lips.

Somehow, Michael knew. He wasn’t a mind reader, but he remembered that feeling. A feeling that bubbled in the pit of his stomach, traveling throughout his body until it pounded at his head. It was dread, hopelessness, not knowing how he’d find the strength to take another breath. He knew, and he needed to help you.

“Di-Did someone break into your house or something?” Carmy asked, closing the door behind him.

“Just stay here for a second, little brother, okay?” Michael’s voice was dismissive, preoccupied, as he followed the trail of despair into the kitchen.

And there you sat. Red eyes, swollen from crying. Head lulling from side to side and your heart almost numb enough to keep the darkness from creeping in and making a home, uninvited, in the hole of your chest. Your arms circled around your knees that you’d drawn up to your chest, hugging them close. Maybe, if you squeezed hard enough, you could stop grieving and move on.

Michael approached slowly, like you were a wounded animal. “Baby?”

“I couldn’t stop myself.”

“We don’t have to—”

“Please don’t hate me.”

He crouched down in front of you, steadied your head with a firm hand on your cheek. His warm, calloused skin helped to ground the thoughts in your fuzzy head. He looked you in the eyes, bold and sincere, just as you had when he relapsed. “I could never hate you. Never, you hear me?”

You paused for a moment before trying to explain. “I couldn’t find Eli, and I just- I started going fucking crazy—”

“Eli?” He asked, pulling the stuffed cow from his pocket. “Sweetheart, I have Eli. You left him the time you came over a couple weeks ago, and I was gonna take him back to yours.”

Michael thought the knowledge would console you, warm your heart enough to give him just the tiniest hint of a smile. But you just threw your head back frustratedly, the impact against the wall causing a dull pain to crash through the back of your skull. “Fuck.”

“Baby, why—”

“I’m so stupid.”

“You’re no—”

Tears gathered once more. “If I had just called you… I’m an idiot.”

“Hey,” He regained your attention, this time with both hands holding your face steady. “You’re not stupid. You’re not an idiot. You just made a mistake, ‘s all.”

“I fucking relapsed, Michael.”

“I’ve relapsed, and look at me, huh? Picture of a healthy, law-abiding citizen.”

“Michael.”

“You’ll start over. Just like I did. Here, give me your phone.” You dug around in your pocket and pulled out your phone, handing it to him. He turned the screen toward you so you could watch as he scrolled through your contacts until he found your dealer’s name. Then, with zero hesitation, he blocked the number. “See? Good as new, yeah?”

If tears could show your appreciation, you’d have cried an ocean’s worth. But the most you could do was throw your heavy arms around his shoulders and press a chaste kiss to the base of his neck. To you, nothing you could ever do or say would be enough, but to Mikey? If he could take your burdens and make them his own, carry the weight of your world on his back, he’d do it without a second thought. Your appreciation wasn’t needed — only your love. And he knew he had that.

“Uh, Mikey?” Carmen’s voice called from the living room. “What the fuck is this?”

Michael reluctantly untangled himself from you for a moment, signaling for you to stay quiet. But you knew what was in there — you’d left the needle on his coffee table. Immediately, you could hear Mikey try to calm his brother down. “Carmen, it’s not what you think.”

“You sure? ‘Cause that looks like a fuckin’ needle. Jesus Christ, are you—”

“I’m not high, Carm, just listen for a second.”

“Listen to what?” His voice got louder, more angry. “Michael, are you fuckin’ serious? You know this family has… issues and this is what you do? Fucking shit!”

“Hey, relax, alright? You’re making a big deal out of nothin’.”

“Nothing? If you’re getting high, it is a big deal. A huge fuckin’ deal.” Carm pushed his brother on the chest, hoping it’ll knock some sense into him. And Michael, he just curled his fists, restraining himself. The last thing he wanted was to lose control on his own brother. Carmen took a step toward, pointing one accusatory finger.

But before he could get a word out, a small voice, your voice, stopped him. “It’s not his.”

Icy blue eyes met yours as he took in your disheveled frame. You stood in the entrance of the living room, leaning against the threshold to hold yourself up. The high was starting to wear off a little, but you still felt the lingering effects. You tried to give him a smile, but a weary sigh passed through your lips. “Hi Carmen. I’m sorry, this isn’t how I wanted to meet you.”

Carmen looked back and forth from you to Michael. His eyes narrowed as his breath started to even out, confusion replacing anger. “You’re the girlfriend, yeah?” He finally asked, confirming your name.

You nodded, gauging his reaction as he let it all sink in. “I had been sober for a while, so I asked your brother not to say anything. But today was- today was hard.”

“Right,” The younger brother nodded, finally taking a step back and pushing his hands deep into his pockets. “Uh, sorry for your loss, by the way.”

“Yeah. Thanks.”

“So, Michael isn’t… he’s not using…?” He knew the words, knew the question he wanted to ask. But he was so afraid, so terrified of what the answer might be.

You knew the answer. It would have been less than savory, admitting that Michael was also an addict and had relapsed more than once since you met. The truth was potentially earth-shattering for Carmen and Michael alike. You glanced over at Michael, at how he hid the fear from his eyes. Still, you see it. In the way his hand flexed at his side, and how he refused to look in your direction. It’s almost like he knew what was coming if you told the truth, that he might have lost his brother for good.

That fear broke your heart. So, you lied. Took your blame and a little on the side. “No. No, just me.”

You excused yourself back to the kitchen to hide your tears. You hugged Eli close, burying the stuffed animal under your nose.

It smelled like Michael.

—

That fucking fork.

Fuck forks. Fuck Christmas dinner. Fuck all seven fishes. Fuck Pete’s eighth fish. And, above all, fuck Michael.

Chaos ensued after Michael gave in to his self-destructive tendencies. He all but flipped the table over in an effort to fight. Fak was making sure Sugar and Pete got out unscathed. Carmy practically begged his mother to stay out of it, and she only relented when her eldest son started making taunting braying noises — she retreated to the kitchen with a cigarette and the bottle of merlot in hand.

You gave up trying to help Michael calm down when he wretched himself from your grip, nearly knocking you into a wall in the process. Richie rushed over to help steady you, and Carmy, over all the chaos, called your name, “Yo, are you alright?”

“Peachy.” You called back sarcastically, rubbing your sore arm.

Carmen then turned his attention to his brother. “Michael, shut the fuck up for two seconds, for fuck’s sake! If you don’t calm down, you’re gonna hurt someone!”

“Kinda the point, little brother.” Michael’s eye twitched as he glared at Lee. He tried once more to push past Jimmy to no avail.

“Yeah? Was hurting your girl part of the point, smartass?”

Michael turned to you, the anger in his eyes slowly overtaken with concern. He hadn’t meant to push you; he didn’t even know you were one of the people trying to hold him back. But that didn’t take back his actions. Your gaze went cold as you pulled away from Richie, pushing Michael hard on the chest. “I’m not his fucking girl anymore.”

Then, you hightailed it out of the house. Everyone went silent as you peeled out of the driveway, rubber squealing against pavement.

Richie watched Michael carefully, noticing how his brow furrowed and his chest heaved. He took a step toward him and dropped a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Mikey,” Richie warned, “Don’t do anything stupid.” Michael pulled away and stomped his way up the stairs, leaving Richie to call after his best friend from the dining room.

Over Richie’s voice, Carmen could hear his mother sobbing in the kitchen followed by the soft glug of wine as she turned the bottle up. And immediately, he followed after his older brother. Richie tried to stop him, “Cousin, he just needs a minute.”

“Yeah, just a minute?” Carmen replied dismissively. “Fuck off, cousin, he’s not a baby.”

He pushed open every door looking for Mikey. Finally, he came upon one door that wouldn’t budge, locked from the inside. Carmy pounded on the bathroom door. “Yo, what the fuck was that?”

“Go away, Carmen.” Mikey paced the bathroom floor, hands pulling at the roots of his hair. He wished he had an answer for his brother, but he came up short. Maybe it was pride, or ego, or his innate tendency to self-destruct, he couldn’t choose. So he just paced the floor, avoiding the sight of his own reflection.

“Mikey, you need to go downstairs and fix this shit, alright?” Carmy continued. “Ma’s drinking herself stupid, Sug’s a mess, your girl just fuckin’ left, c’mon man.”

“Hey, you think I don’t know that?” The older brother hissed.

He braced himself on the sink, finally looking up into the mirror. He looked disheveled, angry. His hair was messy from pulling at it, and the whites of his eyes had a red tint to them. One prominent vein pulsed in his forehead, and suddenly, the need set in.

His head is fuzzy, brain pounding at his skull. So many thoughts, too many, clouding his head. He lifted his hand to push away a few strands of his hair, limp with sweat, and he realized that his hand was shaking. Even as he closed his fingers into a fist, it trembled like an earthquake. He blinked hard, eyes scrambling as he tried to think of a quick solution, a way to gather himself before he faced his little brother again.

Carmy was quiet as he started to think maybe he should have listened to Richie. “Mikey?”

No answer.

“Mikey, look, I’m sorry—”

The door flung open, and Carmy studied him. His hair was pushed back. His eyes were red, but Carmy assumed Mikey must’ve been crying. Everything seemed right, but there was something he couldn’t place. Something about his big brother that was very wrong. “Nothing to be sorry for, Carm.” Michael told him, one big hand on his shoulder. “I gotta go.”

When Michael started booking it downstairs, Carmy was quick on his trail. “Wait, go? Go where?”

Michael responded with a call of your name, “Gotta make sure she’s good.”

Carmy ran a hand through his golden brown locks as he followed his older brother out the front door. Their sister noticed the argument and followed them out the door, “Whoa, hey, what’s going on?”

“Nothing, Sug, go back inside.” Michael stopped for the briefest moment to turn around and place a kiss on his sister’s forehead.

“He’s leavin’.” Carmy sighed frustratedly.

“He’s leaving?” Sugar turned to Michael. “You’re leaving?”

“Fuckin’ snitch.” Michael mumbled under his breath. He squeezed Sug’s arm with a tight smile, “I’m just goin’ to find my girl, okay? I’ll be back, I promise.”

“How are you even going to find her?” Carm scoffed.

“You know her password, right?” Sug asked her eldest brother. “I wouldn’t normally say this, but you could track her phone. Here, give me yours.”

“What about Ma?” Carmy threw his arms up in defeat. Michael was the one who started all that mess, and now that it was time to pick up the pieces, where did he go? Chasing you. Like always, Carm thought to himself. “You’re the only one who can get through to her when she’s all…” He waved his hands around as if the devastating words he was looking for would magically appear.

“Well, you’re home, ain’t you? She missed you — just sit with her till I get back, alright? I gotta go.”

And just as quickly Mikey was off too, running toward the closest train station.

If there were ever a time for oxy, that would’ve been it. But instead, you drove and drove and drove until the tank was damn near empty. You pulled into a parking lot and called your sponsor. She talked you down, persuading you to delete your dealer’s contact information in your phone. When the long conversation was over, you were still angry, furious even, but you’d at least lost interest in relapsing.

Knock knock knock.

You jumped in the driver’s seat when calloused knuckles tapped on the car window. Michael wasted no time in starting an argument. “What the hell were you thinkin’, leavin’ like that?” He yelled, voice only slightly muffled by the barrier.

“How did you even find me?”

“Sugar showed me how to track your phone.”

“You tracked my phone?”

“Open the fuckin’ door.”

You pushed the door open and got out of the car, deciding your best course of action would be to walk away from him. “Leave me alone, Michael.”

“Where are you goin’?” He was quick to follow you as you walked down the street, just a few strides behind.

“Leave me alone.”

“What’s the plan here, huh?” He asked. “You just gonna keep walkin’ till your feet fall off?”

“No, just till I’m away from you, Michael.” You retorted coldly.

“Hey, stop calling me that.”

“That’s your name!”

“Not to you! To you it’s Mikey, or baby, or my love, not fuckin’ Michael!”

“Fuck you, Michael!” You caught him off guard when you spun around, poking your index finger into his chest. “You couldn’t just let it be. You had to ruin Christmas for the whole fucking family!”

“Why do you care so much, huh?”

“Why do I— Jesus, do you even hear yourself? You do nothing but ruin shit for yourself for no goddamn reason! No one forced you to throw that fork!”

Michael scoffed and ran his hand over his lips, his warm breath evaporating into the cold air as he raised his voice again. “So we’re gonna pretend that’s why you’re upset? Because of the fork?”

“I’m upset because you ruined any chance at having a good Christmas with our family!”

“They’re not our fuckin’ family.” He laughed, though no traces of humor could be found in his eyes. “They’re mine! Okay? I’m the fuckin’ Berzatto, not you.”

Your eyes widened at his words. You parted your lips to retort, but he just kept going, slicing your heart in two with expert precision.

“You wanna act like the- the chaos bothers you, but you thrive on that shit — You’re just in a shitty mood because you miss your own family, and now that you can’t replace them with mine, you want some fuckin’ oxy to ease the pain, ain’t that right?”

Smack!

You’d never hit Michael before, never wanted to. Like any couple, you had your share of fights and passive aggressive comments. One thing you two never did, though, was weaponize your addictions against each other. It was an unsaid invisible line that had never been crossed until now. Michael Berzatto, the man you loved more than life itself, had never been so mean. At least not to you.

It happened faster than you expected, your small hand reaching up and slapping across his stubbly cheek. He just stood there, eyes dark and slightly angry, but you weren’t afraid. You were furious, hot tears filling your eyes. “Fuck you.”

You slapped him again. And again. Then, you beat on his chest with your fists. Michael started trying to swat your hands away, but when that proved ineffective, he caught your wrists in his hands, yanking you into a nearby alley, away from the night’s few prying eyes.

“Stop, stop.” He grunted when you landed another smack to his head, finally pinning you up against the nearby brick wall by your wrists. “Stop.”

“I hate you.” You spat.

“No, you don’t.”

You continued to fight against his grip, but he was strong and steady, keeping you in place as you continued to tell him how much you despise him. He knew he was wrong, but he refused to say it. After all the shit that went down that night with his family, with you, he felt like he was going crazy. It was like he was abandoned in the middle of the ocean in a boat with a tiny hole. And even though the hole was small, it was so methodically cut that water was pouring in like a faucet, and the boat was sinking. So he grabbed onto the only lifeline he was certain would be there: you.

You, with the most beautiful eyes that were now filled with angry tears. You, the hero of all his dreams and the victim in all his nightmares. You, whose heart was so broken, so crumbled when he met you, yet still managed to love him with all your being.

He loved you.

It all hit him at once, and he gently pressed his lips to yours. You turned your head away from him, rasping out your hatred once more. “I hate you.”

“You don’t.” His voice was deep and rough, but the tone was soft. Was he even talking to you?

“Yes, I fucking do.”

His lips trailed across your jawline, wet kisses placed on his path. “No, you don’t.”

You hated how easily he was able to do this to you, like pushing a button. You were supposed to be angry with him. You were angry with him. But your body didn’t care about the argument. Your body slowly gave up the fight against his grip, wanting the heat that his touch produced, your emotions be damned. A few tears fell from your eyes just as a soft moan slipped past your lips, an instinctive response to the way Michael’s body pressed yours against the wall, his growing length pressed into your hip.

He slipped a leg between yours, pushing his denim-covered thigh into your pussy. You could feel a wave of arousal soaking your panties. “You’re mean, Michael.”

“I know, baby. I know.” He admitted quietly.

He used his grip on your wrists to gently pull your hands to your breasts. He pressed your hands in before covering them with his own, helping you knead the sensitive flesh. Even beneath your layers, you could feel his touch, and it made you whimper. His deft thumb ran over your hardening nipples, and a soft groan tumbled from his lips. “Just let me make you feel good.”

Somewhere in the back of your mind, you noted his acknowledgement. And his lack of apology.

He kept up his movements, moving your hands to squeeze your breasts, pressing his thigh into your weeping pussy. Somewhere along the way, your hips began to rock back and forth on him. His brown eyes never left yours, even as you cried. It was strange, how your heart hurt so badly that tears fell freely down your face, but your body was pushed closer and closer to the edge.

Still, you gasped for breath as the pleasure began to creep out of your core. “Mi- Mikey,” You moaned. “Please!”

“I’m not goin’ anywhere, baby. Let it all out.”

And it all came out at once, sobs pushing past your lips as euphoria crashed over your body in waves. You clenched around nothing, head tipping back to hit the brick wall. But you never felt the cold brick — one of Michael’s hands left your breast to cup the back of your head, the protective gesture juxtaposing the unending push of his thigh into your pussy to help ride out your orgasm.

Even as your orgasm faded away, your hips continued to buck against him. Your hands found a new home on his broad chest, trailing down, down, down until you felt the leather of his brown belt. You wasted no time in unbuckling his belt and unbuttoning his jeans, sliding the zipper down so you could easily reach into his briefs and pull his cock out. He moaned at your firm grasp, hips bucking into your touch.

Everything moved much quicker now, more desperate than before. You stroked his cock, spreading his precum along the shaft. His forehead pressed against yours as he stared at the way your smaller hand worked him over, twisting over the head on every downward stroke. “Fuck, that’s good.” He groaned.

“Help me.” You whined needily as you thrust your hips against his thigh once more, hoping he’d get the message.

He nodded quickly, kneeling down in front of you. His big hands slide up your thighs under your jean skirt, flipping the rough fabric up over your belly. Your legs were covered by sheer black stockings, a layer of protection from the cold winter chill. But neither of you could bear to wait, to take them off properly. He tore a large hole in the crotch and pushed your panties to the side, muttering curses at how your arousal shone in the moonlight.

“Perfect fuckin’ cunt, sweetheart.” He pushed his index finger through your swollen lips, collecting your juices before slipping into your twitching hole. “Can you take two for me?”

He didn’t bother to wait for an answer. He pushed his middle finger in on the second thrust, curving them to press on that spongy spot on your upper wall that you can never reach yourself. You cried out his name, and your back arched off the wall. His fingers were bigger than yours, thicker too, but they still didn’t fill you the way that you needed.

You whimpered when he wrapped his lips around your clit, sucking firm and hard. “Want your cock, Mikey. Want- oh shit!”

Your orgasm was hard and unexpected, pulling you under before you could even tell him to fuck you. Your legs buckled, and you buried your hands in his thick, black hair to ground yourself. A muffled moan came from between your legs when you tugged on the roots, trying to pull him off your sensitive clit.

He finally relented, pulling away from you and pushing his fingers, soaked in you, into his mouth. He licked them clean without hesitation, only stopping when you tugged on his wrist. You pulled him in by his shirt, kissing him. It was deep and passionate, proving what you both knew to be true.

You didn’t hate him. Maybe you wanted to, but you didn’t. Or maybe couldn’t is the better word.

He cupped your face with both his large hands, wiping away any remnants of tears from your earlier sobs. His tongue licked into your mouth as you moaned, tasting the sweet tang of your juices in his saliva. You reached down to stroke his cock again, and he crowded you closer to the wall. “Want you inside.” You whispered.

“I know, baby.”

His open jeans impeded his efforts to get closer to you, buttons, zipper, and belt now in the way. His hands hurried to push the waistband of his open jeans down and out, ignoring how the frosty air raised goosebumps on his skin. His belt buckle jingled loudly, and something clattered to the pavement, but you could only focus on getting him inside you. His hands returned to your face, making you keep your gaze on his.

You pushed his cock through your pussy lips, let your arousal messily coat his shaft until it was all over your inner thighs. Both your panting was the only thing you could hear over the wet sounds of his length sliding between your swollen lips. You whined when the head of his dick bumped against your clit.

“Guide me in, sweetheart.” He told you, eyes locked on yours. “Take what you want.”

His head, already weeping with precum, nudged at your entrance, and you canted your hips up until the first few inches sunk inside. You lifted your leg around his hip in an attempt to take more of him, but it wasn’t enough on your own. Finally, he pressed forward, fully sheathing his cock within your soft walls. All the while, Michael held your face between his hands, gazing deep into your eyes as you whimpered. “There you are.” He groaned softly. “My girl.”

Your heart twisted at his words. How could he even say that? After saying the most vile things to you, what made him believe that you’d still be his? He nudged his hips forward a bit, and the tip just barely kissed your cervix, shooting a strange blend of pain and pleasure up your spine. You shook your head, hands grasping at his arms to steady yourself. “No, I… I- fuck, Mikey, I hate you so much.”

“Don’t say that.”

“It’s true.” You moaned pathetically, still seething, angry enough to lie through your teeth just to give him a glimpse of the pain he caused you. Your nails dug into the thick fabric of his coat as he began to move, thrusting in and out of your cunt. The alley practically echoed with squelching sounds, and anyone walking by would know what was going on in those shadows. But neither of you could bring yourselves to care, lips falling apart as your sensitive walls clamped down on his length.

“You don’t fuckin’ say that to me.” He repeated with a grunt, leaving the tiniest pat on your cheek to regain the attention of your eyes rolling in pleasure. “You love me. Know you do. ‘S — shit, you’re so tight — ‘s the only thing I’m goddamn sure of, you hear me?”

One hand left your cheek to wrap around your thigh, pulling your leg higher around his hip. He thrusted again with renewed strength before looking down to where you both connected. The sight made the pit of his stomach flip deliciously: the slightly tanned base of his cock coated with a creamy white ring, little strands of your wetness dangling between you both when he dared to pull his hips away. “Fuckin’ takin’ my dick so well, baby.” He bit his lip, his voice sounding almost entranced. “Squeezin’ like you don’t want me to leave.”

“Good thing I’m not goin’ anywhere.” He continued, groaning when your hands slid up his back and into his hair. You pulled hard, and his thrusts faltered ever so slightly. His other hand left your cheek to brace himself against the wall, and his head fell into the crook of your neck, puffs of his hot breath warming your skin.

“You can’t keep doing this shit, M-Mikey. Can’t take your shit out on me.” You mewled as he adjusted his grip on you, pushing you closer to the wall. He left you no space to squirm when his hips started to move faster, his cock bullying its way in and out of your soft, puffy folds to nudge against the spongy spot on your upper wall. You cried out as that unique sensation shot pleasure to every nerve ending in your body, “Fuck, right there!”

“I got you, sweetheart, that’s it.” He responded in kind, adjusting his stance just right so he could drag the notch of his cockhead along your G-spot with every thrust. “Right there, yeah?”

“Oh my god, don’t stop. You’re gonna make me come!”

Michael lifted his head from your neck, meeting your eyes again. They were dark, glazed over, as he slowed his hips, still moving but not enough to finish you off. You felt his cock twitch inside you, and he knew it wouldn’t be long until he flooded your insides with his release, but he wanted to hear you say it: he wanted you to take back your words. “Say you don’t mean it.”

Your pussy fluttered around him in tandem with the whine spilling past your lips. “Mikey—”

“You don’t hate me. You love me. Say it.” He punctuated each sentence with a nudge against your G-spot, soft and tempting.

“N-no, you,” You heaved out a shuddering breath when his fingertips met your swollen clit, rubbing in tight, slow, torturous circles. “You’re being unfair. You- oh my god, yes - you can’t be n-nasty to me and—”

“Just say it for me, baby.” He mumbled against your lips. He was practically begging you to take it back, but, of course, Michael Berzatto would never stoop to such lengths. So, he kept rubbing your clit and nudging your G-spot, punching the breath out of you with his thick cock. “Promise I’ll make you come. I’ll make it so fuckin’ good for you. Just need to hear it.”

And, of course, as you always did, you gave in. “I didn’t mean it.” You admitted breathlessly. “I love you.”

The tension visibly rolled off his shoulders as his head dropped to your breasts, pounding your cunt as you moaned beneath him. “Fuck, I love you, too, baby. Love you so fuckin’ much, it hurts.” He groaned into your skin.

“Mikey, ‘m close!” You gasped, the assault on your cunt and clit too much to bear.

“Wanna feel you squeeze my cock, sweetheart.” He huffed, nails digging into your thighs, your stockings providing no refuge from the dull pain. “Show me how much you love me, c’mon.”

And then, white-hot, earth-shattering pleasure. You nearly blacked out as you clenched around him, stars burning into supernovas behind your eyelids. Your fluttering walls begged him to stay buried deep inside you. Back arched against the wall, your breasts pushed closer to his face, and he didn’t bother lifting up, resting his cheek on the soft fabric that covered your warm flesh as he fell over the edge with you. He groaned out your name as he shot thick spurts of his warm, sticky come inside you. He knew he’d never come so much in his life, only lifting his head when he heard louder squelching noises from where you both connected.

As he thrusted, slow and deep, the white creamy juices that once only circled the base of his cock dribbled out of your pussy, around the sides of his length. A bit slid down your thigh, and his eyes rolled back, reveling in how his balls pulsed with pleasure at the sight.

His whole body relaxed as you both rode out the waves of pleasure. As you came down from your orgasm, your head lolled to the side. Your eyes fluttered closed as you cherished his weight on top of you. When your eyes opened, your vision was still a tad blurry, but you blinked through the fog.

There was something bright on the ground. It was small, cylindrical, and… red? No — it was orange.

“What’s that?”

Michael hummed in response, his speech a bit slurred. “What’s what?”

He lifted his head from your breasts, following your gaze. And he froze, eyes stuck on the tiny bottle of painkillers he’d swiped from his mother’s medicine cabinet after you left. It must have fallen from his pocket when he opened his jeans.

“Are you high right now?”

Michael almost cringed at your whisper. It was different from all your yelling and slapping and arguing before. You were just mad then, and he knew that he could win you over like he had a million times before. This time, it was sad. Cold. Disappointed.

He wasn’t sure if he could come back from that.

You wriggled beneath him until you could push him away, watching him stumble a bit. He was no longer standing tall, a bit slouched, and he swayed aimlessly from side to side. With the way he was fucking you, his blood was pumping, so they must just now be kicking in at full force. You knew — you were certain of the answer, but you wanted to hear it from him.

“Michael. Are you high?”

He had just enough of his wits left to take a step toward you with remorse in his voice, “Baby, I—”

You held up a hand, taking a step away from him. “I… I’ll call Richie. You can stay with him tonight. Or your mother, I don’t….” He called your name again as you fixed your panties and pulled your skirt back down over your ass. “I can’t do this with you right now, Michael.”

You waited for a moment. For what, you weren’t sure. An apology? An explanation? An unremorseful tirade? Part of you would have even been okay with a fight.

But he just leaned against the brick wall, unable to support himself on his own any longer. He clumsily tucked his softening length back into his pants and mumbled his short reply, a correction. “‘S Mikey.”

Snow began to fall in time with your tears. You drew your coat closer, and turned your back to him. “I’m going home.”

—

“Besides work, how’ve you been feeling?”

“I don’t know, just extremely tired all the time. But what else is new, y’know?”

“And how’s your love life?”

“This is your way of asking if I’m still sleeping with Michael.”

“Well, are you?”

You let out a scoff as you adjusted your position on the couch. Your therapist, Deborah, watched you with knowing eyes as you sat against the arm of the couch, offhandedly pulling a throw pillow into your lap. Your index finger wrapped endlessly around the fringe as you carefully mulled over your words. “Well, I haven’t relapsed in almost a year and a half.”

“That’s good.” She smiled. “Also not what I asked.”

“Okay, I’m still seeing him. Or, sleeping with him.”

“So, it’s not a relationship?”

“No.”

“Do you want it to be?”

You paused. You thought about the possibilities of what could have been — of what once had been. Dates, family dinners, shared apartment. Maybe you’d have gotten married and had kids. You’d have brought them up to be better, to break the cycle of whatever crazy shit made you both the way you were. But you also had to accept who he was.

You replied, “No.” It was a lie, and Deborah knew that, but you played it off anyway.

She leaned forward, setting her notepad down and resting her elbows on her knees. “Is he still using?”

You nodded reluctantly, “He says he’s not. And he hasn't been high around me since the, uh, Christmas dinner thing last year. But I’ve seen it… pill bottles lying around. Prescriptions that aren’t his.”

You trail off, once again running through what might have been. Would Michael still be sober if you stayed with him? Were you the only thing keeping him from losing his mind? Were you to blame? Your finger slowed around the fringe, heart aching in your chest.

Deborah gave you a cautionary look, like she could read your mind. “Stop it.”

You sighed, “But what if—”

“Michael is a grown man. His sobriety is his responsibility, and his alone. Just like yours.” She repeated the same words that she did almost every session, reminding you that you were not at fault. “I know it hurts, and it’s okay to let it, but you cannot blame yourself for his decisions.”

“I just- I miss him. How he used to be. But if this is all I can get…” You feel pathetic for even admitting it, but it was the truth.

Deborah watched you carefully, knowing that there wasn’t much she could do but advise you. You were going to see Michael whether it was a good idea or not. So she figured you should know what you’re really getting into. She leaned back, crossing one leg over the other. “Do you know what codependency is?”

Your brow furrowed, “No, but I’m sure you’re about to tell me.”

“It’s when two people depend on each other in an unhealthy way. Usually, one person learns to placate the other, keep them calm, while the other person continues unhealthy behaviors because they know their partner will be there to help them when it gets too bad.”

“Okay, I see where you’re going here. It’s not healthy for me—”

“It’s not healthy for either of you.” She clarified. “I know you love Michael. And I’m sure he loves you as much as he can. But I think the best way for you to help him and yourself — if that’s what you want to do — is to stop enabling him.”

Stop enabling him.

That’s all you could think about for the rest of the session. Those three words terrified you. How would he react if you put your foot down, if you said this needed to stop? What if he never spoke to you again? You loved him, the man that put your heart back together when it was in a million shattered pieces. You were lost, unsure of how to handle the situation.

Twenty minutes later, when you left your therapist’s office, your phone dinged with a text. It was Michael, as usual;

u busy tonight? wanna see u.

And of course, you gave in. But not without thinking up a plan. You took a deep breath and typed out your reply:

meet me in the parking lot off fourth street at 7:30. wanna take u somewhere.

And you tried to hold out, you really did. But no sooner than you arrived, Michael’s lips were on your neck, sucking and licking, making it hard to think. Before you could even remember Deborah’s warning, you were in the backseat of his car, fogging up the windows as you bounced up and down on his cock. “‘M gonna come!” You warned him.

“Go on, sweetheart.” He encouraged with a groan, strong hands plastered flat against your sweaty back. “Tight cunt’s gonna pull the come right outta me.”

“Fuck, ‘m coming, Mikey!” You whimpered, hiding your face in the crook of his neck. His hands gripped your hips, grinding you down on his cock to ride out your orgasm. Your clit bumped deliciously against his pubic bone, and your walls clamped down even tighter, throwing Michael headfirst into his own orgasm.

“Holy- oh my god, don’t fuckin’ stop, baby.” He moaned, throwing his head back. His hips pushed up of their own accord, his thick cock twitching inside you as he shot his come as deep as he could go. He brought one hand down on your ass as you thrusted weakly against him. “That’s it, sweetheart, get every drop.”

You rested your weight on him, your sweaty forehead against the leather headrest. You both took a silent moment to catch your breath, regroup after the explosive sex you always seem to have. Turns out, even with all your disagreements, the attraction never stopped. His hands rubbed up and down your back, almost lulling you to sleep until he pressed his fingertips a little harder, and a moan passed through your lips, eyes shooting open. Michael chuckled deeply and kneaded at that spot, “What was that?”

“Fuck, I don’t know.” You admitted, tension rolling away as he worked at the knot. “My back has been killing me lately.”

“Work?”

“Maybe, but ‘m not sure. Just hurts sometimes.”

“Lucky for you, you got your own personal masseuse.”

You snorted, “My hero.”

His hand smacked against your backside playfully, making you jolt on his lap with a giggle. He laughed along with you, “Watch that tone, sweetheart.”

You shook your head, laughter dying down as your eyes haphazardly scanned the ledge of the back window. And next to an empty cup, you saw a piece of paper. A prescription made for Natalie Berzatto.

And it hit you like a train. You couldn’t keep doing this. It wasn’t fair to either of you. You couldn’t keep taking the best parts of him and ignoring the fact that he needed help. And he couldn’t expect you to be around at his beck and call forever. The time for playing pretend was over — you needed to take a real step for the both of you.

You swung your leg over his lap and sat next to him, scanning the car floor for your panties. “Get dressed. I still have somewhere to take you.”

“You kidnappin’ me, baby?”

“It’s only kidnapping if you don’t go willingly.”

Minutes later, you were walking into a nearby building. The entire walk, he asked and asked where you were taking him, but you never answered, merely saying it was a surprise. When he walked in, and his eyes fell on the folded chairs set in a circle, his smile dropped. Without another word, he turned around and walked out.

“Michael, wait!” You were close behind, following him back outside into the hot, sticky summer night. “Just listen to me, okay?”

“So- so you think ‘cause you’re sober now you can do whatever the fuck you want, is that it?” He asked, pointing an accusatory finger at you.

“I’m just trying to help—”

“I told you I wasn’t fuckin’ using anymore!” He yelled at you.

“And I know that you are!” You snapped back. “I’ve seen the empty pill bottles, Michael. All the prescriptions that are never in your own fucking name. I’m not stupid!”

“Stupid enough to keep comin’ back!” He spat at you. “W-what changed, huh? Is it the therapist? ‘Cause before her, you were happy to just fuck me and leave, pills be damned.”

“Oh, fuck that, Michael.” You laughed humorlessly, pushing at his chest. “You are not doing that anymore, being a dick to me because you can’t accept the truth.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“And what would the truth be, sweetheart? Fuckin’ enlighten me.”

“That you’re gonna fucking destroy yourself if you don’t get help!” You shouted. Tears were filling your eyes at the thought, and you realized you weren’t even angry. You were desperate — desperate for him to do something, anything to help himself. “You- you push everyone that loves you away! Me, Richie, Carm—”

“You leave Carmen outta this.” He grumbled, looking away to avoid seeing the tears that fell down your face.

“Everyone that cares, everyone that tries to help, you just treat them like complete and utter shit because you don’t know how to ask for help! But you don’t have to fucking ask, Mikey — we’re offering! You just have to take it and do something before it’s too late!”

Michael was quiet, eerily so. There was a time when you would’ve been able to read him like a book, to say exactly what he needed to hear. But you couldn’t anymore. And that scared you.

You stepped forward with a sniffle, placing your hands on his biceps. You rubbed up and down in a way that you hoped was comforting. “Just one meeting. That’s all I’m asking.”

When he finally looked back at you, his chest tightened at the sight. Your beautiful eyes, filled with tears and a shimmer of hope that he might agree. And part of him wanted to. Some inkling deep down inside of him wanted to wipe your tears, take your hand, and march into that meeting determined to stay sober for the rest of his life. If only to settle down and make a life with you, one that he could be proud of.

But, as always, something stopped him. A small doubt creeping in, telling him he couldn’t do it. That he wasn’t capable of normality, that it wasn’t in his blood. He was drowning in sorrow and pity, and he was willing to accept that darkness — welcomed it, even. But what kind of man would he be if he dragged you under with him? He cupped your face in his hands, shaking his head. Your hands slid up his forearms and stopped on his wrists with a desperate iron grip. His voice was barely a whisper, “I’m not going to that meeting, baby.”

“Mikey, please.” You begged. “I love you.”

“You can’t fix me.” He hoped you heard what he meant to say: I love you, too.

He pressed a soft kiss to your lips, and responded in kind. It was gentle, melancholic, but it was his way of saying goodbye. His way of expressing the love that he could never quite show you in the way you deserved. But the love was there nonetheless, tearing at his heart until his chest was hollow, nothing left but the memory of you.

When he pulled away, he had to pry your hands off him and take a step back. He gave you a sad smile, pushing his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “Enjoy your meeting, sweetheart.”

He turned around and walked away. A few tears escaped his eyes when he heard a heart-wrenching sob pass through your lips. He wiped them away quickly and tried to walk faster.

He was gone the next month.

—

“We’re closed!”

“Maybe you should lock the door then.”

You were still in your black dress and heels when you arrived at The Beef. No one knew where Carmy was, but you’d had an idea in the back of your head. You weren’t sure if you were right, but it only made sense that he’d be at his brother’s restaurant.

Well, at the restaurant his brother left him.

When Carmy emerged from the back, he stared, his eyes red from crying. “How’d you know I was here?”

You shrugged, “This is usually where I’d find him too.”

“Yo, please, please don’t come in here with that sentimental bullshit, alright?” He said, his tone sharp and mean. “If I wanted to hear about how great he was, I would’ve gone to the funeral.”

“You should’ve been there anyway. He was your brother.”

“Fuck you.”

“Fuck you, Carmen, I didn’t come here to pick a fight.”

He turned on his heel, stomping back to the kitchen, and you followed close behind. “What did you come for then?”

“We’re going to a meeting.”

Carmy kneeled on the floor, next to a bucket of soapy water and a wet rag. He picked it up and wrung it out with a grunt. “What are you talking about?”

“Would you prefer NA or AA?”

He was scrubbing at the same dirty spot that he had for the last hour and a half, but your question made him pause. He looked up at you in disbelief, letting out a scoff. “Excuse me?”

“There are two NA groups I know of, but only one AA, and it starts soon so—”

“Y’know, you’re the addict here, not me.”

“Which is exactly how I know you need to go to a meeting.”

He was seething, an angry red steadily creeping from his neck to his face, one prominent vein bulging in his forehead as he shouted at you. “Goddamnit, I don’t need to go to a fuckin’ Al-Anon meeting! I’m just grieving, alright?!”

“Carm—”

“No, fuck that. The whole reason I didn’t go to the funeral is so I wouldn’t be around that bullshit! You know how Ma gets, and without Mikey here to fix it…”

“Michael was never gonna fix your mother.”

“Right, ‘cause he was too busy trying to fix you.” Carmen let out a harsh chuckle. “‘I’ll call you back, my girl needs me. Hold on, my girl is on the other line.’ Instead of fixing his restaurant, or-or helping his mother, he was making sure you were on the right track. Making sure you don’t relapse.”

Your heart stopped. Your blood burned. You wanted to let loose on him then and there. Yell and shout and cry about how Michael could barely fix himself, let alone you. You wanted to tell Carmen that it was you who desperately tried to fix Michael, make him sober, turn him into the man you knew he could be. Or at least, the one you believed he could be. The man Carm thought he was.

It baffled you how the entire family managed to hide the fact that Michael was an addict from Carmy. But it was a group effort, a last ditch effort to give him the big brother he’d always wanted, the one he remembered from his childhood. He was truly blind to Michael’s true nature, but you knew it was partially because Carmy had his own thing going on. You could see it behind his eyes — it was the same look Michael got before he did something self-destructive.

Instead of yelling or screaming like you wanted to, tears filled your eyes. You knew from experience the Berzatto men could be mean, especially under pressure, but that didn’t make it hurt any less. Unlike earlier in the day, you couldn’t hold them back. Tears fell freely down your cheeks.

But unlike when his older brother spat unkind words your way, Carmy didn’t try to distract you from it or talk his way out of it. No, his face dropped when he realized the severity of his words. He watched as your knees buckled beneath you, moving across the floor to catch you once an ugly sob wretched its way past your lips. He held you as your body shook with the emotions that you’d been ignoring all day. One of his hands rested on the back of your head, stroking your hair with his thumb. “Fuck, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that, okay?”

You don’t know how long you cried. You just sobbed and sobbed until there was nothing left, until you felt completely and utterly empty. Luckily, Carmy helped you sit on the floor. He sat next to you, both your backs against the dishwasher. It creaked loudly under your combined weight, and you sat up. “Sorry,” You croaked out. “Should I not lean on that?”

Carmy chuckled quietly and drew his knees up, resting his forearms atop them. “Piece of shit doesn’t work, don’t worry about it.”

The tiniest smile tugged at your lips as you leaned back and wiped away your tears. “Good. For me, I mean. Sucks for business though.”

His smile faded away as he watched you wipe your tears. His stomach turned uncomfortably at the fact that he’d been so mean, that he’d made you cry. He knew, of course, that he wasn’t the only reason you broke down, but he didn’t like that he piled on. He called your name softly. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that to you.”

“Carm, it’s ok—”

“It’s not.” He shook his head, blue eyes piercing into yours. “You were right. Michael couldn’t fix Ma’s problems. And you didn’t need him to fix yours. He was lucky to have you.”

A sigh passed through your lips, and for the first time in a long time, tension rolled off your shoulders. “He loved you, Carmen.”

He fought back a sad smile, “He loved you, too.”

You paused, tears of grief filling your eyes before you remembered what you came for. You took a deep breath and wiped at your cheeks. “I need to show you something.”

His brow furrowed, turning a bit to face you, resting one leg on the ground. “What?”

You grabbed your phone from your pocket and pulled off the case. You lifted the strip of film from your rubber case, handing it to him. “This is why I need to go to an NA meeting tonight. Figured you could go with me.”

A hand over his mouth and tears in his eyes, Carmy let out a single quiet sob as he stared at the two black and white ultrasounds. “Is it…?”

You nodded, “They are.”

“They?”

“Turns out, you can’t forget to take birth control for even one day. I thought taking two the next day might help, but here we are.” Chuckling quietly, you wiped away the tears that were threatening to fall once more. “I’m not… I’m not asking you to replace Mikey or be their dad or anything. It would… y’know, just be nice not to do this by my—”

“Woah, hey,” He stopped you with a shake of his head, not even wanting you to think like that. “You’re family, period. Have been since Michael brought you home. And always will be. Alright?”

Finally, a sliver of hope. You smiled, “Yeah.”

“Good.” He handed the photos back to you gently, as if one wrong move would ruin them. Then, he stood on his feet, wiping a hand over his face and taking a deep breath. He offered his hand. “Now, come on. I’m taking you to your meeting.”

#michael berzatto x reader #michael berzatto fanfiction #the bear x reader #the bear fanfiction #the bear fx fanfiction #the bear fx #the bear smut #sorry in advance for this one lol

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evanchantingpeters · 1 month

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How I met Evan Peters (Fanfic - Part 1)

Pairings ─ Evan Peters x Y/N (fem reader)

Genre ─ Smut/fluff, Romance

Summary ─ Y/N is fresh in East Hollywood, LA. After a major life overhaul, she’s ready to dive into a new chapter. So, when she hits the town for a night out with friends, she unexpectedly crosses paths with none other than actor Evan Peters. Y/N tries to keep her cool and act all nonchalant, but damn, Evan’s interest throws her for a loop. Their first meeting? Total tension and flirtation, hinting at an evening full of surprises.

Disclaimer ─ In Part 1 of the series, the main characters are introduced, setting the stage for the encounter of Evan and Y/N to unfold and the sexual energy between them to build up. Things get super steamy and smutty in Part 2.

Warnings (for Part 2) ─ Obscene language, semi-public, dry humping, oral (both receiving), fingering, overstimulation, handjob, nudes, handjob, nipple teasing, spanking, vaginal sex, rough sex, extra smutty—you guys know the drill :)

Word count ─ 3.8K

18+ > If you’re a minor, do NOT read!

You step out of the shower, steam stirring around you as you wrap your hair turban-style in a towel. The anticipation of a proper night-out since you made the bold move to quit your job in Europe and pursue another life in the US tingles in your veins. It feels like forever since you’ve let loose, and tonight promises to be nothing short of epic.

Plopping down onto your bed, you grab your go-to jar of coconut body butter from the dresser. You squeeze a generous dollop onto your palm and rub your hands together. The creamy texture blends in as you work it onto your skin, leaving it smooth and oh-so-soft.

As you immerse yourself in your ritual, you hear the familiar buzz of a FaceTime call. Glancing over at your bedside table, you see “Adria,” your friend’s name, glowing on the screen. You pick up your phone, still coated in moisturiser, and her face pops up. A look of desperation is written all over her features.

“Hey, girl! What’s up?” you chirp, propping the phone on your desk to finish off your pampering session.

She lets out a dramatic groan. “Send help,” she whines, her voice tinged with panic. “I’m having a meltdown over here. I swear, I got nothing to wear.”

You can’t help but giggle at her faux-crisis. “First-world problems, brain rot,” you tease, sneaking a peek at the heap of clothes behind her. “I see you’ve got quite a selection to pick from.”

Adria pouts, swatting playfully at the camera. “Nah, these don’t count. I need everyone to be ‘she ate and left no crumbs.’ What’re going for tonight? I need some inspo!”

You chuckle sympathetically, holding the phone aloft as you pivot to show her your fit for tonight laid out on your bed. “I’m going for less is more—my thrifted mini satin dress and racing black leather jacket with my military boots and white tube socks for a touch of sass.”

She gives you a strained smile as she takes in your outfit. “Ahh, you pull off that casual vibe effortlessly, babe.”

You flip the camera back to you, shrugging nonchalantly, “I’m casual and proud!”

Adria rolls her eyes with a teasing glint. “Okay, but what about makeup? You gotta glam it up… you know the LA sparkle! That’s how we do it in East Hollywood, at least!”

You scoff, shaking your head. “Nah, I’m feeling the au naturel look. You know I suck with makeup big time—I’d probably end up looking like Pennywise.”

Rather than rehashing your “Why makeup should be banned” manifesto, you choose to dig further into the evening’s plans. “So, who else’s joining us tonight, Ad?”

She rattles off a list of names, both female and male—some known, others unknown—and you nod along. “Gotcha. I’ll be ready by 10.”

“Perf. I’ll swing by to pick you up then. Buckle up for a wild night, biyyyatch!” she exclaims, wiggling her brows at you.

You let out a choked laugh as you observe her grimacing. “Alrighty, catch you soon!”

Once you hang up, you slip into your outfit and let your hair fall loose, fluffing it up for a bit of volume. No need for fancy blowouts tonight—you’re all about that breezy, air-dried look.

With a spritz of perfume and a final check in the mirror, you grab your essentials and head out into the dazzling city lights.

As you strut into the club with your gang, the uplifting beats hit you like a wave of energy. The nostalgic tunes of early 2000’s R&B thump in your chest, urging you to groove with every step. You all weave through the sea of nightclubbers, the party mode building up inside you like a pressure cooker ready to explode.

“Let’s hit the bar!” Tommy, one of the guys and Adria’s boyfriend, shouts over Missy Elliot. You all nod in agreement, eager to keep the high spirits flowing with some booze.

You slither through more partygoers who dance erratically, all while juggling their drinks. Some move smoothly to the rhythm, while others simply jiggle around out of tune.

Neon lights flash and strobe, casting an electric glow over the bartender as he polishes a row of whiskey glasses with cool confidence. A cheeky smile plays on his lips as you hop onto an empty stool before him.

“What can I get you started?” he roars over the music, his voice cutting through the din.

“Coronas all around,” you holler, matching his tone with equal fervour. You hand him a wad of cash chipped in by everyone.

“Coming right up.” With a flick of his wrist, he expertly pops the cap off the bottle, sliding them your way with a wink.

“Thanks,” you mouth, shooting him a grin before heading back to your friends with a tray.

You take a long, satisfying gulp, the crisp taste of beer quenching your thirst. With your beverage in hand, you pace to the dance floor, your friends in tow only metres away.

Your hips swing in harmony with the melody, and your feet glide effortlessly across the ground. Heads turn and whispers follow your path. Some even reach out, uttering unintelligible words, or brush against your shoulder as you pass by.

Ignoring the distractions, you grab Adria and Jasmine, dragging them into the heart of the dance floor while the rest of the group forms a circle around you. The music engulfs you, momentarily sweeping away the grim memories of your pre-relocation life.

With each song that blares through the speakers, your body twists and twirls with fluid grace, each move perfectly timed to the tempo of the music. In that moment, you feel more alive, more liberated than ever before.

As time trickles by, the music continues to pump and the lights swirl around you. You notice Joseph, the lone blond dude in the squad, inching closer and closer to you as the night stretches on.

“Heyo, Y/N! How’s it going?” he greets you with a tap on the shoulder, his voice rumbling near your ear.

“Hey! All good now. How’s you?” you retort with a tight-lipped smile, bringing your Corona to your lips for another sip.

“Now that I’m chatting with you, much better!” he quips back, a hint of mischief in his tone. “How are you liking the States?”

Just as you’re about to respond, joyous screams erupt from Adria and a couple of other girls from your group, catching your attention. Before you can fully process what’s happening, Adria dashes toward you and jumps into your arms, nearly knocking you off balance.

“Girl! Are you on Molly or something? What’s going on?” you mock, smoothing out your dress on the cleavage before you start flashing whoever’s at close vicinity.

“Omg, you won’t believe it!” Adria squeaks, frantically clapping her hands.

You raise an eyebrow, intrigued. “Try me.”

“Ahh, my fangirling is through the roof right now! Evan Peters is here,” she cries out, bouncing up and down, squeezing your hand tightly.

You furrow your eyebrows in confusion. “Who?”

“Evan Peters, Y/N! The hottie from American Horror Story… Kai Anderson, Cult? Kit Walker, Asylum? Seriously, don’t these ring any bells? Umm… Dahmer? Come on—you’ve watched that series!” she insists, her voice pitch rising as she tries to jog your memory.

A flicker of recognition crosses your face as your friend’s description sinks in. “Oh, right, Evan Peters,” you concede with a faint smile. “I remember now…And?”

Adria’s eyes widen, her mouth falling open in disbelief. “And?? He’s in the same space as us, breathing the same oxygen, Y/N!”

You shake your head, trying to inject a dose of reality into her Hollywood-induced haze. “Okay, but let’s be real here. He’s a mega star, so totally out of league. I mean, we’ve got about as much chance with him as a blue whale does with climbing Mount Everest,” you quip and fold your arms, narrowing your eyes at her. “And you’ve got a boyfriend, in case you forgot.”

Adria’s enthusiasm deflates slightly as she’s reminded of Tommy. “It’s not the same,” she protests sheepishly, fiddling with her bracelet. “You know how celebrity crushes work. How can I not crave Evan when he’s graced the world with his Tate Langdon role?”

You can’t help but laugh at her delirium. “Ugh, Adria, it’s giving obsession and borderline restraining order from Peters if you keep this up. Let’s just focus on having a blast tonight and drop the celebrity fantasies, okay?”

A couple of hours melt away, and the energy of the dance floor begins to wane. Most of your friends retreat to a nearby table to freshen up. But not you. With two others by your side, you’re on a mission to keep the party alive, letting the music guide your body with a fierce determination.

Mid-twirl, though, your eyes snag on something unexpected—a figure lingering at the fringes of the dance floor, his attractive gaze burning into you like a laser beam, sending a bolt of lightning down your back. It takes a moment for you to register who it is, but when you do, your heart kicks into overdrive.

Evan Peters.

You try to play it cool, biting down on the inside of your cheek to stifle the grin that’s itching to break free. You try to pass it off as just a coincidence, a trick of the light or a delulu figment of your imagination, but when you steal another glance in his direction, you find his eyes still trained on you. This time around, he offers a timid smile.

Your throat feels like it’s swallowed a golf ball as you sense his eyes fixed on you. Desperate to shake off the sudden self-consciousness, you rummage through your tiny shoulder bag for your phone. Your fingers jitter as you feign interest in your screen, scrolling aimlessly through your main menu or typing out gibberish in your notes app.

But even as you try to stay composed, his stare weighs on you like a ton of bricks. Are you tripping? Feeling more awkward and exposed than ever (you don’t have Evan Peters laying eyes on you every day), you motion to your friends that you’re heading to the restroom. Anything to escape the spotlight, even if it’s only for a sec.

This time, you bulldoze through the crowd, head low, with the toilets being your last glimmer of hope for salvation. Or so you think. Just as you’re about to slip away, a warm, soft hand gently closes around your wrist, halting you in your tracks.

Every muscle in your body tenses as you slowly turn to confront the person obstructing your way. And there he is, Evan Peters in the flesh, standing before you with an enigmatic grin playing at the corners of his lips.

Your heart leaps into your throat when you face him, every nerve in your body suddenly on high alert. Your mind races a mile a minute—Is this real life? Did you manifest this? Is Evan Peters actually in front of you?

Fuck, Adria’s right. He’s hot as hell, you ruminate, feeling your breath clutching in your throat.

Before you can even gather your thoughts, he greets you with a seductive rasp. “Hey.” His eyes seal with yours in a way that makes your knees turn into jelly.

I just saw you and heard you in person, Evan! Scrap everything I said to Adria. Forget the restraining order. Just slap the handcuffs on me, and do whatever you want... Erhm, I mean, take me into custody cause staring at you should definitely be illegal.

You freeze, unable to tear your eyes away from his handsome dark brown (almost black) eyes and silky tousled curls. A feeble “Hi” is all you manage, your voice barely above a whisper as a nervous flutter stomps onto your stomach.

“Having a good time?” he checks in, his smile widening by the second.

“The asphyxiation I feel right now must be a sure sign that I’m enjoying myself, right?” you reply, fanning your hand in front of your face for dramatic effect.

His throaty laughter bubbles up from deep within him, the sound instantly cranking up your heartbeat. It’s genuine and infectious, like he’s letting down his guard and inviting you into his world, flashing those perfect teeth like they’re on a billboard.

“If you’re suffocating from excitement, then you must be doing something right. But don’t worry, I’ll keep an eye out on you. If you turn purple, I’ll dial 911,” he teases, gently lifting your chin with his index finger and giving you a full inspection with feigned seriousness. “Nope, we’re good. So far, all I see is beauty, no signs of death.”

You can feel your cheeks heating up with embarrassment, so you instinctively lower your head, hoping to hide your rose-tinted face.

You battle to keep it together, but the fact that his hand hasn’t budged from your wrist since your eyes met screams, ‘fainting spell incoming.’ As if that’s enough, his thumb traces soft circles on your skin, sending goosebumps up your arm. “You make me cringe, do it again,” you joke, and you both share a laugh.

“Alright, let’s see what card I should pull next. Here it comes, drumroll—on behalf of everyone in here, I testify to your: ‘I got some serious moves and conquered the dance floor, but I need a breather now.’” he rambles and raises his free hand in mock ovation, his grin laced with mischief.

You chuckle, a surge of confidence brewing within you. “Well, it takes the greatest of them all to verify this. A lifetime of dancing lessons didn’t go down the drain, I guess. I appreciate your testament, sir, and the panel’s verdict,” you coo, bowing theatrically.

Once again, his laughter fills the space between you, warm and hearty.

After a few minutes of silence and a staring contest that makes it agonising for you to breathe, you finally utter, “I said this would be my night, and, apparently, I meant that,” discreetly eyeing him from head to toe, semi-drooling.

“Yeah? Any highlights of the night?” he inquires, his tone dripping with curiosity, and you can’t resist playing along after letting your thoughts slip out loud.

“Nothing yet. But I’m counting on your highlighter to illuminate my way,” you spill out, playfully tilting your head to the side. A sly grin spreads across your lips as you throw the bait, hoping he’ll keep up with your pun game.

His “strike” is immediate as he edges closer to you. “Believe it or not, I’ve got one on me that can change your night from the inside out,” he shoots back, his smile growing, clearly on the same innuendo-laden wavelength as you. You’re a match made in flirtatious banter heaven, true that.

“I need some inside work, that’s for sure. Glad you’re volunteering,” you reply, feeling a rush of heat flood through you at his words. Then, you quickly transition, turning his wrist stroking into a handshake as you introduce yourself.

He hums, gently taking your hand in his, his smile stretching wide enough to reveal his adorable dimples that only add to his charm. “Evan.”

“I know,” you admit, unable to contain your broad smile. “But just an FYI, I haven’t binged-read your fanfics or analysed our astrology charts to see if we’re soulmates. I’ve gone as far as watching Dahmer. Stellar performance, by the way,” you blurt out, still shaking his hand.

He rolls his lips into his mouth to suppress another giggle. “Okay, chill. No need to prove you’re not a psycho. Wanna grab a drink to cool off?”

“No need to ask,” you fire back with equal enthusiasm, both of you grinning like kids in a candy store. Without hesitation, you just follow his lead, diving headfirst into the moment with a reckless abandon, thinking, ‘I’m all in, no matter what crazy idea you’ve got up your sleeve, baby boy.’

He cups your hand in his, his palm firm and reassuring, as he guides you through the throngs of people toward a quieter bar setup located upstairs in the club. The touch makes your head spin, feeling the familiar sensation of heat pooling between your thighs, leaving your undies all moist. You’ve felt sparks like this before, but never quite so intensely, and certainly not so quickly with anyone else.

As you trail behind him, you can’t help but lightly graze the back of his hand, mapping the pathways of his veins with your fingertips. You love a baby face paired with strong arms—he’s exactly your kind of man.

“Maybe it’s better…” he begins once you reach the bar, but the music swells out of the blue, drowning out the remainder of his sentence.

You involuntarily scrunch up your nose and squint, struggling to concentrate and hear him over the blasting tunes. “Come again, sorry?”

Before you can react, he draws closer to you. His breath is warm and tickly against your ear, causing a tremor through your entire body. Not to mention his voice: husky and velvety, making your cunt pulsate for him already.

Damn, things are moving at lightning speed, and you’re struggling to keep pace.

As Evan gets nearer, you catch a subtle yet alluring whiff of cinnamon and cologne. But, actually, it’s the natural scent exuding from his body that has a chokehold over you. Those pheromones he unleashes are like full-blown intoxication, making you lightheaded, your pulse thudding.

You lean in to mimic his gesture and whisper to his ear, but you’re pleasantly surprised when he gently clasps your hand, signalling for you to hold on. As he removes his earplugs, he explains, “Sorry I’ve got very sensitive ears.”

You chuckle, a wicked spark in your eye as you lift a tuft of hair to reveal your own ear protectors. “Great minds think alike,” you cheer.

“No, you didn’t,” he exclaims, eyes widened as you burst out laughing in sync.

As your laughter subsides, Evan’s expression shifts. His eyes bore into yours with a smouldering intensity as if he’s on the verge of revealing a long-held secret or daring to make a move.

But before you can form coherent thoughts or pluck up the courage to speak, Evan blinks fast, breaking the spell. “Shall we get those drinks at last? What’d you like?”

You clear your throat, trying to snap out of your nasty thoughts with Evan being the main character. “I’m down for another Corona, thanks.”

He flashes a quick two-finger salute to the bartender before turning back to you, his lips curving up in a cute, crooked smile. “So, who are you here with tonight?”

“Just some friends,” you confess, your voice trailing off as he raises his bottle to clink it against yours in a toast. His eyes remain glued on yours as he takes a sip, his defined jawline and slender neck at full display begging for your kisses. The intensity of his gaze makes your legs all wobbly. “A-and yourself?” you stammer, breaking eye contact to nervously trace a circular pattern on the rim of the bottle glass with your fingers.

“Same, I came to visit friends during my break. I’m flying back to Vancouver in ten days to carry on filming Tron.”

Your grip tightens around the cool glass of your drink as Evan drops the bombshell. You feel the liquid catch in your throat as you choke, a sudden surge of panic hitting your chest. You cough, the sound harsh and uncontrolled, your body reacting instinctively to the news.

“Canada?” you manage to croak out between coughs, your voice hoarse. You struggle to swallow past the lump, your throat raw and constricted. Your chest heaves as you fight to regain control.

“Y/N, are you okay?” he asks with a sense of urgency, his forehead creased with deep lines of worry. Leaning in, his eyes search yours for any sign of distress. His hand reaches out to steady you, giving you comforting back rubs.

You nod weakly, your eyes watering from the effort of suppressing another coughing fit.

“Let me fetch some water for you,” he offers, his voice soft and soothing. He sprints to the bar, returning seconds later with a glass of water and a concerned frown etched on his forehead.

“Thanks,” you mumble, accepting the glass with a trembling hand, keeping the bottle of beer in your other hand. The cool water soothes your parched throat, and you feel a sense of relief wash over you as Evan tenderly ruffles your hair and massages your scalp to calm you down. Hint: his hands on you work wonders.

“I’m okay,” you assure him, looking up to meet his gaze again, your heart hammering. Everything else fades away, leaving only the reassuring presence of Evan before you.

You can practically sense the sexual tension between you. His stare flickers between your lips and eyes, his own mouth slightly parted. It’s like a silent invitation that hangs between you like a charged wire ready to ignite, daring you to take a plunge and smother his face with kisses. And then suck his dick so hard that his stomach caves in like a Caprisun.

It doesn’t matter that you’ve just met; he has you at hello and you’d spread your legs for this man without a second thought…

You gulp as you realise he’s almost inches away from you. You shudder when his fresh breath—an irresistible blend of mint and alcohol—wafts into my mouth, blowing stray strands of hair off your face. “You’re leaving in ten days?” you sigh, puckering your lips and giving him a puppy-eyed look.

“Yes, but I’m still here,” he whispers, his eyes fixed on your lips as he leans into your stool. With a single knee, he slowly splits your legs and slides in between them.

“You’re here now. Wanna be at my place next?” you suggest, and he stares back at your eyes with a crooked smirk, his lips curled mischievously.

Without warning, his lips brushed against yours, throwing your arousal off the chart. The torturously slow pace that his lips slide along yours makes your sex leap, pop, and drip. Soft moans escape your bodies as he grabs your ass to pull you in, squeezing it along the way as his chest cushions firmly against your breasts.

He smiles against your lips as you tangle your fingers in his hair and part your mouth, giving him the green light to roughen the kiss. His hard rock boner already presses against your wet centre when his tongue invades your mouth with primitive force, swirling and twirling with yours in a passionate dance.

“How long to get to yours?” he grunts out of breath, wincing from the uncomfortable angle his stiff cock has now taken in his trousers.

“It’s roughly a ten-minute ride, give or take,” you pant, adjusting the hem of your dress.

“Off we go.”

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245 notes · View notes

lustfulslxt · 6 months

Note

hii can u do a smut femxmatt fic where they meet at a party and they like are kinda drunk and matt’s really flirty and touchy and they just end up fucking!! ty!!!

(kinda like ur party revelations one but maybe they’re both influencers or u could even do chris!)

Under The Influence - Chris Sturniolo

warnings : alcohol consumption, smut

a/n : i wrote this for chris bc as you said, i have party revelations for matt, and a friend of mine received a request just like this for matt. xx

—

Tie it up, put a chain on it

Make you tattoo my name on it

“Will you please come?” Sage begs, shaking my hand up and down, on the verge of a temper tantrum.

“You’re literally being ridiculous.” I chuckle, shaking my head. “I don’t see what difference it would make if I were there or not.”

Sage has been asking me to go to this party with her for weeks now. However, my answer has been a constant no. I’m not a fan of parties, much less big influencer parties. Too much drama always stems from them; whether it’s so and so cheated, whoever’s beefing, they did this, they did that. They never fail to have some dumb shit pop off, hence why I’d just rather not go. I don’t need anyone attempting to ruin my reputation and career just for their own benefit, I’m good.

“Because you’re my best friend and I need you. You’re my hype man and wingman all in one. Please! Just this once! I’ll do anything!” She continues to plead.

I sigh, ultimately knowing I’ll cave, “This is the only party you’re going to convince me to go to. You know how I feel about being around a bunch of fake and dramatic fucks.”

She instantly starts jumping up and down, cheering whilst shaking my hands again. “We’re leaving in three hours, so make sure you’re ready. Also, we’re gonna uber so we can get fucked up.”

I just shake my head, not really looking forward to the night ahead of me. But maybe, just maybe, I can get drunk and enjoy myself. Dismissing my thoughts, I turn on some music and head to my bathroom to begin getting ready.

I take a long shower, thoroughly washing and exfoliating myself. I shave and do a hair and face mask, prepping myself for tonight. After getting out, I dry off and apply vanilla scented lotion to every part of my body.

Next, I slip on my undergarments and apply deodorant, then head to my closet to choose an outfit. It doesn’t take me long, before I choose a plain, black mini skirt and tube top with a long sleeve mesh dress paired over it that had gems scattered all over. I stick with a pair of black lace up pumps to go with my outfit. Sitting down at my vanity, I go through my makeup, debating on what kind of look I want. After pondering for a moment, I just choose a dark smokey eye with a basic beat. I line my lips with a medium dark brown and apply clear lip gloss, blending it all together flawlessly. For hair, I just stick with a basic blow out.

“Great! You’re ready!” Sage suddenly cheers from my bedroom door.

I look over and see that she’s fully dressed and ready to go, holding a bottle of vodka in her hand. Upon seeing that, my eyebrows raise.

“Why the face?” She asks, before registering it. “Oh, this! It’s for a little pregame. So, come on.”

I shrug and gather everything I need for tonight, placing it in my purse, then follow her downstairs. She already has two shot glasses set out on our dining room table, ready to be filled. Without another word, she fills both glasses to the rim with vodka, smirking at me as she raises her glass.

“Cheers to a great night!” She grins, clinking my glass with hers, both of us downing the harsh liquor.

My face contorts in disgust as the liquid flows down my throat, and I can’t help but cringe at the awful taste. Immediately, my chest is hot and I don’t want anymore. I’m not really a drinker, but I already know I can’t be sober in order to get through this night. We both take two more shots before our uber arrives and we’re heading to the party.

The driver talked our ears off the whole ride, so when we finally shut the doors of the black suv, we both sigh and fall into a fit of tipsy laughter. We’re not drunk, but neither are we completely sober.

Upon walking into the party, we’re met with a glowing red light, loud music, the smell of alcohol and weed, and a ginormous amount of people all chatting and dancing throughout the house.

“Y/N! Sage!” A voice calls out, directing our attention towards them.

It’s one of Sage’s friends, one I personally am not a fan of, but I know how to be nice. I shoot her tight lipped smile, leaving Sage to greet her.

“Hey! It’s been so long, how are you?” Sage asks, pulling her into a hug.

Before she can respond, I quickly interrupt, “Sorry, I’m gonna go get a drink.”

And with that, I’m making my way through the crowd of people, in search of the kitchen. It takes me about five minutes to get through everyone and I’m already slightly disgusted at the sweaty bodies and the lack of personal space. I’m not lying when I say parties aren’t my thing.

Finally being able to breathe in the less packed room, I deeply inhale and exhale, ridding myself of the building nerves. I walk over to the counter, grabbing a solo cup from the stack and browsing through the bottles of alcohol. I opt for an unopened bottle of vodka, not wanting to risk anything that may or may not have been tainted. I fill my cup up a little over half way, then turn towards the cooler to grab a chaser. More people have already piled into the kitchen, there now being less room to roam around. I reach into the cooler, grabbing the last can of pepsi, only for it to come up with another hand attached to it. My gaze trails up the veiny hand, following the arm it’s attached to, to observe who it is.

Bright blue eyes, pink lips, a sharp jawline, and wavy hair. A silver Vivienne Westwood chain hanging from his neck, sitting atop a white t-shirt that had a bear in a watering can, surrounded my grass and little flowers. Blue jeans and, last but not least, white air forces covering his feet.

He looks familiar. Hot, yet still familiar.

“Oh, hi.” He grins, snapping me from my thoughts.

That’s when I realize we’re both still holding the can, but I don’t let go.

“Hi.” I reply, my gaze set on his face.

“I think this is the last pepsi.” He points out.

I nod, raising my eyebrows at the obvious statement. “Yeah, I noticed.”

“Pepsi’s my favorite.” He adds.

I can’t help the smirk that tugs on my lips, “Do you want a cookie?”

He shakes his head, chuckling, “I can’t have it?”

I only repeat his action and shake my head in return, pursing my lips to keep the smile from forming.

“Can we share it?” He asks, giving me puppy dog eyes.

And just like that, I’m folding. With a shrug, I pull the can from his grip. I open it up and dump some of its contents into my cup, then bring the can up to my lips, taking a drink all whilst holding eye contact. I notice him intently watching me, before grabbing the can and taking his own drink, licking his lips afterwards.

“You’re Y/N, right?” He questions.

I nod, biting my inner cheek, “And you are?”

“Chris.” He smirks, eyeing me and up and down. “Well, Y/N, we basically just kissed.”

I can’t help the loud laughter that falls from my lips, nothing less than amused at his statement. I can see the smirk on his face turn into a full blown smile as I try to catch my breath, recovering from the fit of giggles he put me in.

“That was corny.” I say, smiling at him with a shake of my head.

He tosses his hands up in defense, shrugging, “I mean, did we not?”

I don’t say anything, and bring my mixed drink up to my lips, downing all of it in one go. His eyes widen as he watches me. I don’t like alcohol, but I can manage. It doesn’t take long for it to take effect, on top of the shots I had earlier, I can already feel the warmth coating my insides. With a surge of boldness, I lean forward and place a small peck to the corner of his lips, swiftly pulling away and making my exit.

Just before I slip away, I turn back and flash him a smile, “See you around, Christopher.”

As the party goes on, I can tell the alcohol I’ve consumed has fully kicked in. The loud music is no longer bothersome, I don’t feel suffocated in the sea of people, and I feel good. It’s been around an hour since I’ve been here, and I’ve only ran back into Sage once. She’s off with her other friends, mingling around, and I’ve just been vibing.

I’ve seen Chris around, more times than I’ve seen anyone else. Unless I’m just fixated on him. It’s like every time I turn my head, my eyes are meeting his, and I never want to look away. Though, to save myself from embarrassment and humiliation, I force my gaze elsewhere.

After downing another shot, I make my way to the makeshift dance floor, and let loose. Under the Influence starts playing, and I can’t help but move my body to the beat, letting the rhythm flow through me. My hands make their way into my hair, my hips swaying in sync with the beat booming in my ears. Suddenly, I feel a warm presence directly behind me, causing me to spin around.

Hot and delicious.

Christopher.

“Hey, mama.” He slurs, a goofy grin showcasing across his lips.

He’s definitely invading my personal space, but I don’t even care. Especially when his enchanting scent is filling my nostrils, winding me in closer.

“Hello, Christopher.” I reply, my speech slightly incoherent.

“I knew you knew who I was.” He stammered, his body damn near pressed against mine.

“Mhm.” I hum in response, turning around and backing into him.

“You look good like this.” I hear his voice in my ear.

I grab his hands that were just barely grazing my waist, bringing them to fully grab my hips as I move into him. His large hands guiding me back and forth.

“You’re so pretty, it’s distracting.” He mumbles, his breath fanning my neck.

I can feel the goosebumps spreading, the hair on the back of my neck standing up.

“You’re drunk.” I softly say.

He shakes his head, “I’m not drunk. I’m just intoxicated by you.”

Again, I’m bursting into a fit of giggles from something he’s said. I can’t tell if it’s because I’m drunk or if he just makes me nervous.

“You’ve been stuck in my head since I first saw you earlier.” He admits, stumbling over his words a bit.

I turn back around, looping my arms around his neck as we continue rocking to the music. His hands go up to my waist, pulling me into his chest.

“What are you thinking about?” I ask him.

He licks his lips and shakes his head, a slight chuckle escaping, “You don’t wanna know.”

Instantly, my eyebrow raises, “Try me.”

“I see you flipping your hair around and all I want is to wrap my hands in it while you’re taking my cock.” He states, his voice low and husky.

I immediately feel heat rush to my core, the sound of his voice and the words he’s saying, turning me on. I bring my bottom lip into my mouth, biting down on it to prevent the large smile that’s close to taking over my face.

“What if I was thinking the same thing?” I ask, the grin breaking through.

“Will you freak out if I kiss you?”

Looking up into his eyes, I subconsciously scoot closer to him as I shake my head. His eyes flicker from my eyes to my lips, then he slowly leans in. The second his mouth meets mine, my eyes flutter shut and I’m savoring the feeling of his soft lips on my own. One of his hands reaches around me and cups my ass while his other one is wrapped around my throat, pulling me impossibly closer. As our lips mold together, I find my hands in his hair, my arms holding him into me. The kiss is desperate yet soft, passionate yet hot. He pulls away, his face only centimeters in front of mine.

“Follow me.” He says, his breath slightly heavy as he intertwines our hands.

I do as he says, following closely behind him. We walk through the kitchen, dodging everyone in our way. We round the corner to a staircase leading downwards. He pulls me in front of him, ushering me to go down.

“After you.” He says, holding his arm out for me.

I shoot him a look, before grabbing his hand and walking down the stairs, him following in suit. We get to a door that he opens for me, nodding to enter. It’s a large bedroom, quite tidy in itself, and I can smell his scent wafting through the air. Only now did I realize this is his house. As he shuts the door, I walk around, taking everything in. My hands trail across the edge of his bed, feeling his comforter beneath my fingertips.

“Do you like my room?” He asks.

I turn around to face him and he has a soft, innocent look upon his features. However, I can already see right through him. I know what’s about to take place.

“I do.” I nod, “It’s very neat, and it smells good.”

“Thanks.” He grins, strolling over to me.

“Why didn’t you tell me this was your party?” I ask him, sitting on the end of his bed.

He shrugs, “Why did you pretend you didn’t know who I was?”

I toss my head back, soft giggles pouring out of my mouth. I look at him with a cheeky smile and low eyes, shrugging my shoulders. He just grins at me, before kicking his shoes off and nodding towards mine. “You can make yourself comfortable if you want.”

Within seconds, I’m unstrapping the uncomfortable heels and setting them aside. He lays back on his bed, his legs dangling off the side. He grabs my hand and gives it a soft tug, so I copy his actions, and lie back. We’re both facing one another, drunk and happy.

“How come I’ve never seen you at any parties?” He questions, his fingers playing with mine.

“I’m not really a party girl. Definitely not an influencer party girl.” I admit, warmth building in my stomach at his soft gesture.

“Well I’m glad you came to this one.” He says, staring into my eyes.

“Why’s that?” I smirk.

“Because who knows if I would’ve met you had you not.”

I can’t help the blush that pools to my cheeks at his response. He’s flattering and he knows it. I don’t say anything, I just take in his features for the millionth time tonight. His hair slightly out of place from my roaming hands, his face flushed from the heat upstairs, his eyes lidded from the alcohol in his system, his pretty pink lips looking oh so kissable. He looks so good. Without a word, he pulls me closer to him, my body flush against his.

“Is this okay?” He asks me, trying to read into my facial expression.

“It’s perfect.” I nod, enjoying the warmth he’s providing.

“You’re so pretty.” He whispers, his breath fanning my face due to our short proximity.

A smile sneaks onto my lips as I look down, attempting to hide the red color that’s now adorning my skin. His large hand grabs my chin and lifts my head so that he can see my face. Our eyes meeting in an intense gaze, holding it for what seems like forever. He only breaks the eye contact when he puts his lips on mine again. It’s only a soft, chaste kiss.

“So pretty.” He says again, his voice low as he continues to press gentle kisses onto my lips.

The delicate kisses turn into feverish ones, our tongues now gliding in and out of one another’s mouths, lapping each other perfectly. Our lips move together so well, like we cannot breathe without each other. My hands return to his hair, softly tugging it, eliciting low groans from him. One of his hands cups my cheek, the other one resting on my lower back, pulling me even more into him. He flips me over onto my back and hovers above me, staring into my eyes once more as a small smile takes over his face.

“God, I can’t get enough of you.” He groans, smashing his lips into mine again.

One of his hands rests on the bed by my head, the other one rubbing my outer thigh. Just his soft touches are enough to make my skin hot beneath his fingertips. My hands connect with the hem of his shirt, lifting it slightly and running my hands up his torso. He breaks from the kiss and removes his shirt, tossing it on the floor, then reconnecting our lips. He’s positioned between my legs, his groin inches above mine. My hands continue roaming along his torso, feeling his hot skin. I bring my legs up, hooking around his waist, pulling him down into me. His clothed erection presses into my heat, causing a low moan to leave my lips.

“Are we really doing this?” He pulls back and asks, his fingers playing with the hem of my dress.

“Yes, please.” I answer, my voice soft and breathy.

He grinds down into me, his hard on hitting exactly where I need him, causing another moan to leave my mouth.

“Fuck, I can’t wait to feel you.” He groans into my ear, leaving a wet kiss on it.

I shudder in pleasure as he continues down my neck, sucking and biting, marking me up. I reach down for his dick, palming it over his jeans. He lets out a low moan, bucking into my hand, before harshly grabbing both of my hands and pinning them above my head.

“You first.” He mutters, holding my wrists with one hand while his other one travels down my body.

His hand swiftly makes its way between my legs, my dress riding up as he kneads my thighs. Then, he’s rubbing my core through my underwear. Hums of pleasure come from me, and I can feel them growing wetter and wetter.

“Can I take your panties off?” He asks, his voice raspy as he looks into my eyes.

“Y-yes.” I answer, moaning louder as he presses harder into my heat.

“So good using your words, mama.” He groans, licking my neck.

He then pokes his fingers in the waistband of my panties and slowly pulls them down my legs, discarding them to the side. He spreads my legs again, my dress and skirt now sitting completely on my hips. He throws his head back at the sight of my pussy glistening with my arousal. Without another word, his face is hovering above my center, his warm breath hitting it. I can feel myself clench around nothing, desperate for any type of stimulation.

“Look at you. I haven’t even done anything and your pretty pussy’s begging for me.” He smirks, his fingers now prodding at my folds.

Now coated with my juices, he runs a finger over my clit, rubbing in soft circles. I’m physically writhing beneath him, so badly needing more. He then thrusts a finger into me, causing my body to jerk and my mouth emitting a loud gasp. He continues pumping it in and out of me, then adds another and doing the same with it. My hands squeeze the bed sheet beneath me, attempting to release the tension building. His fingers are moving so fast in and out of me, curling in the right places. My mouth falls open, my brows furrowing as pleasure overcomes me.

“You look so pretty coming undone like this.” He says, peppering kisses all over my thighs.

“Feels s-so good, daddy.” I moan out, clenching around his fingers, unaware of the name that slipped from my mouth.

His eyes are completely black as he stares up at me, watching me fall apart. His dick is rock hard, throbbing and impatiently waiting to be inside of me. Without a second thought, his lips are wrapped around my clit, sucking on it as his fingers fuck into me. That alone is enough to push me over the edge, my legs shaking as I let go, giving into the building pressure. I feel my cum ooze out of me, quickly being slurped up by Chris, tasting every drop of me as his fingers help me through my orgasm.

“Mmm, you taste so good, ma.” He says, licking my lips.

He pulls his fingers out of me, coming back up to hover over me, shoving them in my mouth. I moan around his fingers, sucking my own juices from them. He harshly grips my jaw, slamming his mouth onto mine, the taste of me lingering on our tongues.

Breathless, he pulls away and stands up, pulling me to the end of the bed by my ankles. His hand travels up my leg from my foot, tenderly squeezing along the way.

“Can you stand up?” He asks, softly rubbing my hip.

I nod and scoot to the edge, standing up on shaking legs and looking up at him. He cups my face, brushing my cheek with his thumb. He plants a sweet kiss on my lips.

“Take your clothes off.” He says, his tone firm.

I happily oblige, stripping from my clothes as he does the same. I watch as his dick springs from its restrictions, hard and throbbing. Just from the look of it, I know I’m in for a treat. He strokes himself as he looks over my body, licking his lips. He steps in front of me, his member poking into stomach. His hands run up and down my body, pressing kisses into my neck.

“On the bed, on your knees.” He demands.

I do as he says, and he follows behind me, holding me up with his hand on my throat. His lips meet my neck, sucking and biting all over it, causing soft whimpers to leave my mouth. He pushes me forward, laying me flat on my stomach. He leans over me, licking and nipping my back, leaving a warm trail of saliva. His hands part my thighs, squeezing himself in between them. I can feel him run his tip between my folds a few times, causing me to push back in anticipation. He pushes me back down, slowly sliding himself inside me.

“Ugh, fuck.” He moans, bottoming out.

“You’re so big, daddy. Feels so good.” I moan, feeling him slowly thrust in and out, filling me so nice.

His strokes start slow and hard, before the speed picks up. His hands are on my back, holding himself up as he fucks into me at a delicious rate. I can’t help the moans that continuously fall from my mouth, feeling nothing but never ending pleasure.

“You feel so fucking good wrapped around my cock, mama.” He groans out, fucking into me deeper and deeper.

It doesn’t take long for me to feel the buildup in my stomach once again. His hand wraps around my hair, tugging back as he leans over me once more. His mouth comes to my neck again, leaving wet kisses. I can hear his heavy breathing and low moans in my ear, and they’re driving me insane.

“Feels like you were made just for me.” He whispers. “I knew you would feel good, but this is better than I imagined.”

“All yours.” I babble, ridden with pleasure.

“You’re so tight, I can’t take it.” He moans, his voice holding a rasp to it.

I clench around him, feeling seconds from giving into my orgasm. A string of moans and curses fall from my lips, pure bliss coursing through me.

“You’re about to cum, I can tell.” He says, “Let it go, baby. Cum for me.”

And just like that, I’m releasing all over his cock with the loudest moans. His thrusts start to grow erratic, indicating he’s close to finishing as well.

“Such a good girl. Taking my cock so well, mama.” He moans out, thrusting harder.

Within a few more strokes, his dick twitches and his hot load is spurting into me, lewd groans emitting from his mouth. He pumps a few more times, riding out his orgasm, before slowly pulling out and watching his cum drip out of me. He collapses next to me, breathing heavily, looking me in my eyes with a goofy grin. His face is flushed red and his hair is sweaty, sticking to his forehead.

“That was amazing.” He breathes.

Unable to form words, I nod in agreement. His hand interlocks with mine, gently squeezing as his other hand brushes my hair out of my face.

“God, you’re so pretty, Y/N.”

I bashfully smile, “Thank you.”

“Will you stay with me tonight?” He asks, his eyes shining with hope. “We can shower and you can wear some of my clothes.”

I ponder for a second before shrugging with a nod, “That sounds perfect. I’ll just have to let Sage know.”

He smiles, brightly, pecking my shoulder over and over as he pulls me into him.

“You’re never getting rid of me now.”

—

a/n : this took me entirely too long to finish, so sorry ab that!! also not proofread, as per usual. hope you enjoyed this!! continue sending in reqs and i promise i’ll get to them eventually <3

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babayagakeanu · 2 months

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Dating a jealous John Constantine (p2)

Before you and John got together, you had your fun, and you had your friends. You were always headed to the next bar with your friends when you first met John in passing. Tall, dark, and handsome, you were immediately drawn to him.

You saw him again when you were closing up your antique bookstore and he stopped in.

“I’m sorry, sir, but we’re closed for the night.” You stare at him as he lights up a cigarette. “And we definitely don’t allow smoking in here, either.”

”Sorry, doll.” Flicking out his cig, he walks up to your counter. “I need a book, and I’m hoping you have it.” He was a little pale, like he’d seen a ghost, and if it wasn’t for your terrified scream at the looming dark figure behind him, you and him would probably be toast right about now.

Ever since he saved both your lives that night, you agreed to drive him around jobs in the city, and it was fun and terrifying at the same time.

he’d started to grow close with you after some time, the sound of your laughter making his stomach do cartwheels, the way your hair smelled right after your shower, and the way you applied your lotion to your legs had him stiffening in his pants. Doing this in front of him was an innocent act on your part, but you were oblivious to the torture you were causing.

Asking john to fasten your necklaces was a common reoccurrence. He was tall and could see the back of your neck anyways so it was just easier for him to do it. He’d fasten the necklace, all the while, holding his breath as to not sigh out in part of the sweet smell wafting from your neck; some old perfume of yours.

You had gotten your first boyfriend some months after meeting John, still oblivious to the huge crush he had on you. Everything was going fine, until John started to act weird around you and your partner.

He’d come out just wrapped in a towel from the shower, and you’d catch yourself staring at him, mouth catching flies as he states, “oh, sorry guys, thought I’d be alone tonight.” He smirks, and he knows what he’s doing.

Your boyfriend would try and talk to john about getting you gifts, asking what you’d like and John would give him wrong answers out of pure jealousy.

Don’t even get me started on how he would be starring daggers at the guy whenever he would kiss or touch you in front of John.

Dude is full on simp-mode at this point

When you finally break up with your current toy, John takes every opportunity to make you realize he’s it for you.

Purposefully placing things on the top shelf so you’d ask him too bring it down, his hands grabbing at your waist, sending shivers up your spine as he steadies himself.

The trailing of his fingers on your nap as he fasten your necklace once more.

The flirtatious teasing and glances from across the breakfast table.

One night, after getting ready to go out with your friends, decked out in makeup and one tight dress, he snaps.

“Don’t go.” He states, standing in front of the doorway.

”John, don’t be an ass, I’m going out with my friends. Please move.”

“I said, don’t go.” He stands up from leaning against the door wand walked towards you like a predator tracking his prey. “I said, don’t go because I don’t want to see you with anyone else but me.”

Your mouth opens and shuts as your brain rewires itself. “What do you mean, John?” You finally finds the words as you realize you’ve backed yourself into a corner.

”I love you, y/n. i fucking love you and it hurts me to see another man touch what’s rightfully mine.” He kisses you hard, and you find yourself melting, wrapping yourself in cig smoke and whiskey as the door closes, cutting out the sound of your laughter and John’s.

——————-

I’m sorry if this sux. I’ve been dealing with a nasty head cold but i wanted to get this out for you guys. Please enjoy!!

#keanu reeves x reader #fluff #new post #john constantine x reader #john constantine 2005

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babydollmarauders · 1 year

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GAME WINNER — NICO HISCHIER

nico hischier x fem!reader

summary: in which Nico gets rewarded for his game winning goal

warnings: MATURE CONTENT! oral (m receiving), nico having a “captain” kink, praise, not a lot of dialogue, not proofread.

notes: this could quite literally be trash, i’ve never written any kind of smut before, so if it’s horrible then please never expect smut from me again

it’s not often that i attend road games with my boyfriend. really, i’ve only been to three previously, but i had a long weekend off work and i was missing Nico. so, can anyone really blame me for giving into my temptations and buying an impulsive flight ticket to Arizona?

now here i sit, on the edge of my seat in Mullett Arena, waiting for the puck to drop again in overtime. i watch through the glass as my boyfriend switches places with Erik Haula for the faceoff, the puck drops and Nico wins it, sliding it back to Dougie.

Dougie passes the puck back to Nico, and my leg starts bouncing anxiously as he skates down the ice into the Coyotes defensive zone. Nico makes quick work of wristing the puck past the goalie and straight into the net, and i jump to my feet, clapping for him.

“YES! NEEKS!” i cheer, observing as he celebrates the win with his teammates. my thighs clench at the sight of his smirk, his cocky attitude more of a turn on than i’d like to admit.

the arena starts to empty out and i follow behind, due to meet with Nico back at his hotel. my mind races with thoughts that i hope nobody can read across my face; my plans for the night have been solidified.

the hotel room is empty when i arrive, which by no means surprises me. i estimate at least another half hour before Nico walks through the door, giving me plenty of time. i ruffle through Nico’s bag, pulling out one of his t-shirts, slipping my own off and unclasping my bra to leave me bare, i pull his shirt down over my head. i kick my shoes off and my jeans follow, being yanked off and shoved into my own bag, leaving my ass clad in red lace.

leaving my hair and makeup, i take a seat on the bed, scrolling through social media as i wait for my boyfriend to enter. as i predicted, it’s not until thirty minutes later that i hear the beep of the key card being scanned and the door opens to reveal Nico. his hair appears slightly damp from his post-game shower, and he’s switched back into his arrival suit.

he’s captivating.

“hi, darling.” he grins, walking over and dropping his phone, wallet, and airpods onto the nightstand. he leans down, dropping a chaste kiss to my lips, but i thread my hands into his hair, pulling him closer in an attempt to deepen it. he pulls back, a smirk spread across his lips once again tonight. “what was that for?”

“i’m so proud of you, captain.” my voice is sultry, dropped low in a seductive tone. his hands grip my waist as i rise from the bed. “you did so good tonight.”

“yeah?” smirk still painted onto his face, he pulls me flush against his body, his still hardening bulge pressing against me. “you’re proud, baby?”

“yeah.” i reiterate. it takes all my willpower to pull my body away from his, distancing myself. “let me show you how much.”

my hands push against his shoulders, and he allows my weak shove to knock him back onto the mattress, sitting at the edge of the bed. i drop to my knees slowly, placing my hands on his thighs as i do so, and look up at him through doe eyes and a bitten lip.

i let my touch graze up to his length, cupping it through his suit pants, and his hand comes up to roughly cup the back of my neck, using his grip to pull my lips to his in a dominant kiss. a moan escapes my throat as he sucks my lower lip, nipping gently at it in the heat of the moment. i smile into the kiss, allowing my fingers to wander down to button of his dress pants, undoing it before slipping my hand past the waistline of his underwear to palm him.

he stiffens for a moment at the cold touch before melting back into the kiss, relaxing into my contact. i part our lips, stroking him a few more times before i glide my hand free to pull his pants down. he assists me in my endeavor, letting his now fully erect cock spring free. my hand returns to it, stroking hard and slow as my tongue slips out to wet my lips.

Nico let’s out a shaky breath and i snake my other hand up to push his shirt up, watching with intrigue as his abs flex. noticing my gaze, he makes quick work of stripping off his suit jacket, unbuttoning his shirt and letting it hang open as he falls back onto his hands. i feel my core growing slick with want as i take in the erotic scene of my making, but push my own needs to the side.

tonight is about him.

leaning over, my tongue licks against his tip, making him shudder. i hollow out my cheeks as i go down, letting his cock slip past my lips just slightly. Nico brings one hand back to caress my cheek before using it to grip my hair in a makeshift ponytail, barely able to contain himself from thrusting into my mouth. peeking up at him through my lashes, his eyes are squeezed shut, his head dropped back as his chest rises and falls in a quick rhythm with shallow breaths, and it spurs me on to take him farther. i gag as his tip hits my throat, bobbing my head as i watch his reactions.

“y/n.” my name falls from his lips like a prayer, delighting my ears as he exhales it between groans. “fuck. you’re such a good girl.”

his praise causes my heart to pound in my chest, a moan bubbling up my throat. the vibrations of it reaching his cock, urging him to finally let loose and thrust into my throat. i gag once more, but power through it, breathing through my nose as he uses his grip on my hair to start guiding my head back and forth on his length. flattening my tongue along the underside of his shaft, i reach up to grip whatever can’t fit in my mouth, timing my strokes to match the bobs of my head.

Nico mutters some curses in german, his breathing picking up as his abdomen tightens again.

“i’m not gonna last long if you keep doing this, darling.” my lips lift as i smile around his dick, peeking up again to see him watching me as he bites his lip. my jaw starts to ache but i urge on, taking him as far as i can. i continue tugging at his cock as i pull back back to inhale a deep breath through my mouth, grinning up at him.

“i want you to come, captain.” my voice is hoarse from the violation of my throat, but my words still do the trick, making him moan and push my head back down towards his erection. i lick my lips once more before pushing his cock back past them, taking him as deep as i can muster, bobbing my head up and down as i suck around him.

i can feel his pull on my hair get tighter, hear his breath being held for longer, his tell that he’s about to tip over the edge, and i reach my free hand up to trail over his bare stomach, lightly grazing my fingertip down his abs. he groans out more german curses before i finally feel him come undone, ropes of cum coating my mouth as i continue through his climax. when he’s done, he pulls my lips off of his quickly softening cock, his hand dropping my hair and making its way to my cheek as he watches me swallow.

i stay seated on the floor as i watch him tuck himself back into his pants before i climb back up onto the bed.

“that proud, huh?” he teases, gripping my thigh as he pulls me to straddle his waist.

“probably prouder than that.” i whisper, leaning in to press a kiss to his lips.

“i love you.” he mumbles, his hand gliding up and down my spine.

“i love you more, game winning goal scorer.” he chuckles at my words before flipping us over so he hovers above me, his hand trailing to my front and down to my core.

“now how should i take care of you?”

#nico hischier #nico hischier smut #nico hischier imagine #nico hischier x reader #nico hischier blurb #nico hischier fic #nj devils #nhl smut #nhl blurb #nhl fic #nhl imagine #faithlynn’s writings <3

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chrollohearttags · 7 months

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cherry i’m not tryna increase ur workload but all the characters in the reverb universe so full of life 😭 idk i’d like to see like a small time stamp drabble series of a day in the life of them whether its ur ocs or the others KDKAKSK

bae omg not at all!!! 😭😭 I appreciate u sm. You know I love any excuse to write for those fools shkshs 🫶🏾 I REALLY love this idea too!

EJ: he starts his day depending on how his night before went! If he had a good session and turned in fairly early, then he’s up around 7AM. He showers, does his whole morning routine (shaving, doing his hair, the works. He’s in their for a hour). He’ll go for a run or workout..shower AGAIN. Then he gets breakfast (courtesy of his housekeeping or his sweetheart (y/n) and then he’s off to the studio. That’s around 12PM or so. He has his home ones but also one downtown so he’ll meet with people there. He tries to knock out at least a project a day. Whether that’s someone else’s works or his own music. He sometimes has meetings with AMG, appearances on shows, interviews, etc and gigs per his lovely manager. He’ll head out around 6 or 7, get back home and he’ll have dinner with (y/n). They’ll go out if it’s their date night or just stay in. Honestly, that’s the highlight of his day! Being cuddled and laid up with his girl.

Jean: Mr. Kirschtein loves his rest so he starts his day around 9PM. Mika is an early bird so she’s out of the house long before that. He gets his morning routine out of the way before heading into the office. Whilst he’s working on his new album, he’s taking sort of a backseat approach so he helps out with auditions, organizing album layouts, writing music and just overall mentoring new artists. He gets there around 10:30 or so and heads out around 3. It’s then that he heads to his home studio to practice with his band because they still have tour dates coming up. They go at it for a few hours, fine tuning their setlist for an upcoming show. He gets in an hour long workout (bc we all know he has to look his best on that stage while he’s up there being a s-l-u-t). He usually finishes up his day around 10 or 11 and then it’s time for bed.

Armin: well after he’s crawled out of the pile of women and liquor bottles from the night before, he does get down to business. He does a lot of producing, DJ’ing and club promoting so he gets the privilege of starting his day a lil later. He’ll head to one of the ritzy lounges downtown for brunch and often times with one of his pieces of arm candy by his side. While he’s enjoying mimosas and egg Benedict, his assistant is getting his schedule together. His interviews, his gigs for that evening and any other ventures. (not to mention canceling his fifty million dates he’s promised!) Armin is out at allll hours of the night so if he’s DJ’ing/promoting, he may arrive around 11PM and be there until 3 or 4 in the morning. Drinking and turning up the whole time.

(Y/N): My girl staaays booked and busy! Up around 6AM for a workout and morning routine. Comes back from the gym or in home one around 8AM to do her hair and makeup. Often times, her and Eren are meeting one another and they’ll have breakfast together before heading out. Sis does a lot of influencing (obv) work so she’ll film content for a few hours for TikTok and Insta. Reviews on clothes, makeup, hair, etc. depending on what was sent for the week. Mikasa will normally tell her what her gigs are for the week and helps her stay on schedule. Around 1 or 2PM, she’s meeting up with her girls for pole practice. They’ll usually do a live showing their routines and put together their sets for a show. If they have a concert they’re doing, they’ll get to the venue around 6 or 7 to run through their choreography and then once the concert is over, they head out for the night and sis goes right home to relax with a warm bath and her big teddy bear of a husband.

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jupiter-letters · 22 days

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Dating Number 4/ Klaus Hargreeves would include☂️👻:

Fem! or GN! Reader TW: Brief mentions of addiction

A/N: I started Umbrella Academy a week ago and I’m obsessed, I’m almost done with season 3 and I can’t wait for season 4. I’d managed to fall in love with Robert Sheehan all over again and all that love has to go somewhere so here it is.

Waking up to little peppered kisses on your back and up your torso. If you don’t open your eyes he’ll just start blowing raspberries into your neck and on your face. Once he hears you laughing he’ll stop and flip you over. He likes being the first thing you see when you wake up. Some days are a little more peaceful and less silly, you wake to see him still asleep. A mess of curls and smudged glitter eyeshadow is the first thing you see. He’s at such peace and the most still you’ll ever see him.

Putting makeup on each other, whether it’s going out or just playing around with new looks it doesn’t matter. Being able to experiment with new colors and combinations with each other is so much fun. On date nights you’ll pick outfits for each other, sometimes even just wearing each other’s clothes. Doing things like this with him leads to doing most things together.

Why have him do things when you can do it for him? Or even with him? He loves having you wash his hair. Showers, baths? Of course we have to both be in there at the same time! Klaus is so touch starved any reason to spend time together he’ll take it,an added bonus is your company keeps the spirits away.

You’re always in close proximity to each other, so your skin is always touching. Klaus just can’t get enough, physical touch becomes his middle name. He’s a natural affectionate person but just having you near is very grounding for him.

He’ll draw on you with little glitter pens he carries in his pocket, he likes to call you his “canvas and his muse.” Even without the pens he’ll trace random shapes and words onto your arm or your back when you both lie in bed. Klaus also likes to play with your fingers when he’s bored.

Kissing!! He’s such a fiend for kissing my god, after that first kiss he’s finished. He always says he wants just one but it ends up escalating to a full on make out sesh. Doesn’t matter if you’re public or not you look too good it’d be a crime not to kiss you. Klaus doesn’t really give a damn about public embarrassment, if you wanted him to he’d run through central park naked, he would.

Once he knows you’re ok with all the random bursts of affection he really piles it on. Neck kisses, shoulder kisses, nose kisses, not one day goes by where he doesn’t kiss you. He kisses like he wants to devour you, if he wasn’t able to kiss you that’d be hell on Earth. If you’re a fan of random kisses at the most inappropriate times he’s a professional. You’re driving, he’s gonna make out with you. Out shopping, kissing! Right now! Doctor’s appointment? Kisses under your jaw in the waiting room, he can’t help it, he's bored.

Helping him get clean, you and Ben have been pretty good influences in his life. Trying to keep him on the straight and narrow for the sake of his health. He wants to be present for you, he wants to be able to remember the things you do together. You help him find fun things to do without getting drugs involved. Taking your time and being patient with him means the world to him. He loves his siblings but they aren’t the best at helping him with it. They do try a little harder when you come around seeing how serious you are about helping him. You stay awake with him when his nightmares get too bad or when the withdrawal is really wearing him down. If it’s the ghosts that are bothering him you just tell them to piss off.(he really appreciates that)

Klaus begins to teach himself new skills to help you out around the house, cooking, cleaning you name it. He doesn’t do it very well but you appreciate the effort anyway. Chores become another activity for you both to do. He’ll even indulge in some of your hobbies just for the fun of it.

Tattoos! He gets something on his wrist that reminds him of you, he can’t wait to show you too. If you get one related to him, god forbid a little number 4 on you he’ll cry. He does eventually tell you about the rest of his journey in Vietnam and Dave. Klaus wants to be sure you know he won’t compare you to him, He’ll always love Dave but he doesn’t love you any less. He’ll get really shy if you kiss his hand tattoos, there aren’t a lot of ways to fluster him so that’s a good one.

Being surrounded by death and destruction most of his life really makes him appreciate what you have. The way you indulge in his antics and impulses makes Klaus feel so seen. You don’t feel real to him sometimes; late at night he’ll just lay his head on your chest and listen to your heart beating.

When some crazy new developments or drama happens in his family you’re first to know. Luther tells him something very personal and secret and 15 mins later he’s calling you on the mansion’s phone.

Luther: “This stays between us Klaus I mean it…” Klaus: “Of course Lulu I wouldn’t dream of telling anyone you’re dirty little secret” A few moments later… Klaus: “Babe you’ll never believe what Luther just told me!”

He’ll always be looking at you, wherever you are and whatever you’re doing you have his full attention. Klaus will just be gazing at you lovingly while five is trying to talk to him, eventually he’ll just ignore him and go to talk to you. You're his favorite person to talk to; he never gets bored with you.

Thanks for reading! Lemme know what you think. Please like or reblog if you like my stuff.

#~⋆｡°tales from the dreaming #the umbrella academy x reader #klaus hargreeves #robert sheehan #robert sheehan x reader #tua x reader #tua imagines #the umbrella academy imagine #klaus hargreeves x reader

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luci-in-trenchcoats · 6 months

Text

The Princess & The Playboy (Part 6)

Summary: Sam and Max's plan to get their siblings invited to a party may have worked but Sebastian Monroe is a dangerous man and they may have just put not only their lives but their families at risk too...

Masterlist

Pairing: NFL Quarterback!Dean x Pop Star!reader

Word Count: 5,400ish

Warnings: language, family trauma/angst, kidnapping

A/N: Uh oh...

_________

Two Weeks Later

Reader POV

“Damn,” said Dean, shaking out his arm after you’d tossed him a football in the backyard. “I’m going to need your arm workout and no, I am not joking.”

“Oh my god, did I tell you the dance choreographer wanted me to learn to do a handstand so I could sing, upside down? I shut that shit down so fast,” you said, Dean gently tossing the ball back to you.

“I’m sure you could do it. But I don’t blame you for not wanting to,” he said, catching the ball one handed. “Do you get a lot of say in that stuff? Dance moves?”

“That would require me to be able to dance,” you laughed, clasping both arms around the ball when he threw it back.

“She’s right. God awful dancer when it’s not choreographed. Miracle she can fake it as well as she does,” said Eric from the patio table, glancing up from his phone. “It’s four by the way.”

“Ugh. Why’d we say yes to this stupid party?” you asked. Dean shrugged.

“This guy donates a bunch of money to the Wolves charity every year. Plus Emma said it’s not a bad idea to go to a charity event together. Apparently it helps the public not think of me as such a scoundrel.” You tossed him the ball one last time, clasping your hands behind your back.

“I mean you are the big bad playboy corrupting the virtue of the sweet princess of pop,” you said, batting your eyes, twirling your hips. You grinned when he frowned, his eyes like a predator sizing up his prey. “I think the media is right about you. Such a bad influence.”

“Oh keep it up, princess, and I’ll tell them you ain’t innocent in the slightest.”

“Someone put me out of my misery,” groaned Eric, rising to his feet. “I’m getting dressed and going over protocols with the team. We’ll head out at seven.”

“Ain’t it kind of early to get ready?” asked Dean as you tossed him the ball one last time. Eric only laughed and headed inside, Dean cocking his head at you. “I know girls take a long time to get ready but three hours?”

“Shower. Shave. Makeup. Hair. Plus I told Sloane I’d help do her hair and pick out a dress,” you said, Dean humming. “I’m sure there’s a college game on you could watch for awhile.”

“I got some game film I can review,” he said, a heavy sigh in his shoulders. You wrapped your arms around him, Dean ditching the ball to return it. “It just never ends.”

“You love football, though,” you said, Dean nodding.

“I do. But every year it’s getting to be more and more. I know you understand the pressure of it all. I just…I’m tired. I want to have more of a life outside my job,” he said, sliding his hands down your arms, taking your hands in his. “Does that make sense?”

“Yeah,” you said softly, Dean sharing the same sad smile you wore. “Me, I can have less tour dates and not put out an album every single year. I can make more wiggle room for myself. But I know you can’t. And sometimes I worry when I watch you play, pushing your body so hard.”

“I’m incredibly lucky I’m the least sacked QB in the league. I’ve had only one surgery and that was cause I broke my toe like an idiot on a coffee table. I don’t want to be like these guys that stay in too long and wind up with so much pain at forty. Or worse.”

“I guess the thing to ask yourself is, do you want to keep going? Or could you walk away and be satisfied?” you asked. He breathed deeply and closed his eyes.

“All I know is I used to put my head down, bury myself in the game. All I looked forward to was getting to the season, the start of a game, feeling that rush. This year…I’m looking forward to being done with work and games way too much. It’s like I’d rather be somewhere else…with someone else,” he murmured.

You nodded, squeezing his hands. “Nothing to decide today.”

“I know. Go get ready. I can occupy myself for a few hours.”

“Damn,” you said when it was nearly seven. Sloane looked down at herself alarmed, glancing back worried. “Sloane, you’re fucking hot.”

“I’m forty two,” she scoffed, smoothing out the floor length gown. “I’m not hot.”

“Hell yeah you are,” you said, Sloane tucking a strand of freshly curled hair behind her ear. “Eric’s going to fucking drool.”

“He better not,” she mumbled, taking a breath as she put her leg up on a chair and hiked the skirt portion up. She opened up her clutch sat on the end of the bed and slapped a very small thigh holster on her right leg, a smaller than usual gun inside.

“Right. Cause really hot women packing heat are total turn offs for him,” you said, adjusting the strap that ran across your shoulder. She pouted and you handed her the clutch. “You said you could work with him tonight. We’re only bringing two of you inside and we wanted our best.”

“I can. He’s good about not speaking about anything but strictly work lately,” she said, sitting on the bed. “Does he seem…different to you?”

You knew why she was asking. Eric had told you he needed a few hours a week off for therapy a few weeks back. You practically jumped for joy that he was going to get some help to work through some things. Then it all shattered when he said it was related to his dad and needing to address some stuff he did to him as a kid. He didn’t share more but you had a feeling that had as much impact on him as his days in the military, probably more.

“It’s hard to tell with him,” you said, trying to respect his privacy. Plus, it actually was difficult to see a difference. Eric held everything close to the chest. Sometimes too much.

“Yeah. There’ll be no issues working together this evening,” she said, forcing a smile. You wanted to offer some reassurance that he was trying and maybe someday things between them could change. But honestly, you had no clue if they would work things out.

“Good. Well, let’s go see the boys.” A moment later you were coming down the stairs, Dean and Eric wandering out from the front hall in their tuxedos. Eric had always looked handsome when he dressed up but Dean?

He was walking sin in the tailored outfit, showing off his large shoulders and trim waist. You could feel the heat in your cheeks when he stared like he wanted to devour you then and there.

“Wow,” said Dean, a growing smile on his face, eyeing you up and down. It was a fairly simple dress. Black. One shoulder and a thin strap on the other. Form fitting up top before it became loose at the hips. It probably didn’t match black tie standard one hundred percent but it’d been sitting in your closet for two years and you finally had an excuse to wear it.

“Wow yourself,” you said, tugging on the lapel of his jacket. “Put you in one of these and you’d never imagine you spend literally every single day in flannels, henleys, and black tees.”

“Strange considering I’ve seen you wearing those clothing items a lot more yourself lately,” he teased, grinning down like a cat staring at the mouse it’d cornered.

“Oh, just a coincidence,” you said, Eric clearing his throat. You rolled your eyes, getting a roll in return. “You look nice too, Eric. I know you need the compliment on your appearance or your ego will bust.”

“Why did I take this job,” he mumbled to himself, staring at Sloane as she walked ahead for the front door. “You look beautiful.”

Sloane stopped dead in her tracks, looking over her shoulder at him, his gaze shooting to you.

“I know you’ve wanted to wear that dress for awhile,” he said to you, Sloane rolling her eyes and walking outside. Eric closed his eyes when she was gone, Dean slapping his shoulder.

“Don’t worry, buddy. I’m sure my hyper observant protection agent didn’t catch the way you said that straight to her face and then pretended to say it to your boss.” Eric shrugged him off and grumbled on his way outside, harshly pulling the door behind him. “Damn. I was hoping they’d have some kind of fairytale moment or shit. He looked like he wanted to fuck her over the kitchen table.”

“I don’t know. We’ll just…wait and see what happens,” you said, holding out your hand. “Ready to go?”

“One sec,” he said, reaching into his pocket and pulling something out. He slipped something elastic over your wrist, beaming when you stared down at it to find it was a friendship bracelet, like the kind from when you were kids. This one was black, gray and white, the LA Wolves colors. You turned it over when you felt a few square beads, expecting to see DEAN.

Your heart skipped when you saw MAX with a few beads separating it from SAM. You glanced up Dean, his green eyes flittering down to where he’d removed his jacket, right sleeve pushed up.

Dean had always had Sam’s initials tattooed on his forearm. You remember that happened at some point in college, not too long after Sam went missing. The initials right below it were new though, his skin tinged a light pink from where the tattoo was still fresh.

“Is that-”

“Max’s initials? Yeah, looks like it,” he said, a coy smile crossing his face. You held out a finger, Dean humming it was alright to touch. A thick swallow was audible as you traced over the delicate skin, black ink soaked into the creamy canvas of his body.

“Fuck you,” you whispered, Dean’s face falling.

“Sweetheart, I’m-” he said as he wiped at your eyes, mascara coming away on the back of your hand. You laughed, shaking your head at him.

“Look what you did you sweet man,” you laughed, a few tears falling free. “Dean, you didn’t have to put his name on your body.”

“Brothers go on the arm. It’s kind of my thing,” he said, your bottom lip wobbling as a swell of emotion hit you. “Are you mad?”

“No,” you croaked out, squeezing your bracelet. “I wish they were with us.”

“Me too,” he said softly, wiping his thumb under your eye, stopping a tear from falling. “Y/N.”

You met his green eyes, thumb stroking your cheek with a barely there touch.

“You understand you’re my girl, right?” You nodded, Dean’s head tilting slightly, eyes scanning down to your lips slowly and back up just as lazily. “So. Am I yours?”

You held a finger to his lips and turned towards the front door, pulling it open, Eric and Sloane both leaned against an SUV.

“We’ll leave in thirty,” you said, pulling the door shut again, finding Dean with a raised eyebrow. “I need ten to fix my makeup. The other twenty is to show you exactly how much you’re mine.”

Dean POV

I stepped outside while Y/N used the bathroom, the brisk air doing wonders for cooling me down after what I could only describe as the most intimate handjob I’d ever received. It was the one thing that stuck out to me about sex with Y/N. Every other partner I’d had, it was about release, pleasure. With Y/N though, it felt different. A good different. Yeah, it was about the pleasure there too but it was…comforting in a way, joined together.

Once Y/N had let go of her fear of it, intimacy turned out to be one of her favorite things in the world. And it was becoming one of mine too. She just made me feel safe. Whole again.

“Told you she’d cry about the tattoo,” mumbled Eric in my ear, hands clasped behind his back. “Surprised you didn’t get down on one knee yet.”

“We understand what we are to each other,” I said, adjusting the sleeve of my jacket. “The time for that’ll come eventually but I don’t think either one of us is in a rush to get there.”

“Ready!” exclaimed Y/N, rushing outside barefoot, the skirt of her dress bunched up in one hand, heels in the other. “How late are we?”

“Oh, only forty five minutes,” said Eric, Y/N jumping in the backseat when he opened the door. “Clutch?”

“I’m the purse tonight,” I chuckled, patting my pocket where her phone, a lipstick and extra hair tie resided.

“Good. I usually get stuck with it,” said Eric, patting my bottom. “Let’s move it kiddos.”

“Hopefully this party doesn’t suck,” said Y/N beside me as we drove up a long driveway thirty minutes later, lips pursed.

“You hate parties,” Eric chuckled from the passenger seat.

“I hate parties where people ask me to sing at their kid’s sweet sixteen which is like, almost all the time,” she said, my hand reaching over and interlacing our hands together. “Sorry. That sounded bitchy.”

“It sounded like that’s really annoying to have happen all the time,” I said, the car slowing down behind another luxury SUV. “We won’t stay long, just a few hours. I know we have to do this for me.”

“Hey,” she said, voice firm. My eyes flickered to hers in the dark space. “We both have more money than we know what to do with. I’m perfectly happy to waste an evening if it means sending some of that money to a good cause. You getting some good press out of it is a bonus.”

“I ever tell you how wonderful you are?” I asked, heart swelling up as she blushed. “Want to go show off your reformed bad boy, sweetheart?”

“You were never bad,” she said, pecking a kiss on my lips. She grinned goofily and wiped them off with her thumb. “Lipstick.”

“You can take it off if you promise to put it back later,” I said, Y/N’s eyes flirting down to my groin, a wicked smirk on her face. “Down girl.”

“I’ll play with you later,” I said as we stopped. Eric slid out of the passenger seat as I opened the back door. I exited and held out a hand, helping Y/N down in her obnoxious skinny little heels. They looked like a death trap to me but she danced around on stage for three hours in them so if anyone knew how to work them, it was her.

Damn she was sexy in that dress. Almost as sexy as those red flannel pajama pants she wore last night. And that cozy blue sweater on Thursday. Or that-

“Stop staring at her,” said Sloane, pushing on my back so I’d move and she could slip out of the backseat. “You’re like a puppy obsessed with her.”

“Be nice,” Y/N chided, taking a step forward, letting me follow her lead. Eric and Sloane fell in place behind us, the driver staying with the car and driving off towards where the cars were being parked.

A man in a nice suit opened the front door for us, revealing a grand hall that made Y/N’s house look like a starter home.

“This guy is loaded,” I whispered in Y/N’s ear as we found ourselves quickly surrounded by people when they caught sight of her. There must have been three hundred people at this thing.

“Here we go,” she mumbled before putting on a big smile, immediately getting asked to be in a selfie with a woman in her twenties.

For the next thirty minutes it felt like we were bombarded, stuck not ten feet past the door in a never ending line of people wanting to talk to Y/N. Yes, some people were football fans but a vast majority were there for Y/N, some nervous, some practically jumping out of their skins.

“Damn dude, you’re beyond lucky,” said some guy to me as his wife took a picture with Y/N.

“I know I am,” I responded, Y/N giving me a flash of a smile.

“She needs a break,” whispered Eric in my ear. I stepped forward and cut off the next gaggle of women that wanted to approach.

“Excuse me, I need to steal Y/N for a minute,” I said, taking her arm and leading her down the large open hall.

“Thanks,” she said, grabbing a glass of champagne off a servers tray. She knocked it back and I started to scan the room in search of water for her.

“Hi,” said a teenage girl in a light blue dress, approaching slowly. She seemed out of place at the event filled with adults in designer clothes. “I’m Cecilia Monroe, Sebastian Monroe’s daughter.”

Ah she was this guys kid. That made sense. “Nice to meet you. We haven’t met your father yet. We’d like to thank him for his numerous donations to the Wolves charity over the years.”

“You have a lovely home,” said Y/N, the girl blushing, clasping her hand over her wrist in a failed attempt to hide her friendship bracelet. Y/N caught it and smiled. “Did you go to the tour this year?”

“Uh yeah. My dad got VIP tickets,” she said shyly, suddenly straightening her back. “I’ll be on the veranda. Please come find me when you’re through with my dad. It’s very important.”

She scuttled away, Y/N raising an eyebrow.

“I think you have a superfan,” I chuckled, Y/N biting her lip. “You think she’s a problem?”

“No. She’s a fan clearly but I don’t know,” she said, waving for Eric and Sloane to join us from where they stood together by a table of appetizers.

“You two good?” asked Sloane, their eyes finding the young girl and watching her leave.

“Keep an eye on that girl,” Y/N said, nodding as Cecilia went through open back doors outside. They both readied themselves but Y/N shook her head. “Just watch her. This might be a Denver situation.”

“Denver?” I asked, Eric frowning.

“Fan in Denver was being abused by her parents. Subtly asked Y/N for help at an event. Smart kid actually,” said Eric. “Sloane and I can try a soft approach with the girl, get a feel for if something is up, relay we can keep her safe .”

“This guy does have a lot of private security,” said Sloane. “If something’s happening, she may feel safer knowing we can protect her in the interim.”

“Let’s go talk to the girl,” said Y/N just as a man in a very nice suit came striding down the hall towards us. “I think that’s our host.”

“Eric, Sloane, go see what’s up. We can fend for ourselves for awhile,” I said. They scuttled away as the man greeted us, holding out a hand and shaking mine firmly.

“Sebastian Monroe,” he said with a pleasant enough smile. “And you two are the power couple my teenage daughter will not stop talking about.”

“Yeah, we get that a lot. We said hello to her earlier,” said Y//N with a fake smile, staying close to my side when the men looked like he was going to reach for her hand. “Y/N Y/L/N.”

“Dean Winchester,” I said, taking my hand back, the other wrapped around Y/N’s waist. The man only smiled though, like we didn’t need to introduce ourselves. “I’ve heard you’re a Wolves fan.”

“Oh not anymore than anyone else,” he said with a wave of his hand. “Although a signed jersey by you would certainly go for big bucks at our next charity auction.”

“We’ll have to make that happen for sure,” I said, not enjoying the way his gaze traveled down Y/N’s body. I’d seen it plenty of times tonight but his seemed the most sleazy of all.

“Speaking of the auction, where are the tables? I’d love to donate,” said Y/N.

“Right side of the veranda, sweetie.” Y/N hummed, giving me a look to join her as soon as I could. “Boy, if I was ten years younger.”

I couldn’t hide my annoyance, Sebastian flashing me a smile. “Oh no. Please go ahead and tell me what you’d do if you were ten years younger.”

“Easy kid. Half the population would bone her if they could,” he said, sipping from the glass in his hand. He took his turn to eye me, a curious look on his face. “You know, I could be inclined to offer another sizeable donation to the Wolves charity for those kids if I could get one of those signed jerseys myself.”

I bit my tongue, both of us aware of the clear message. Refuse and good ol’ Sebastian stops donating a million dollars each year to kids in poverty.

“I’m sure you got one around here somewhere we could fix up,” I said. Sebastian threw an arm over my shoulder and I hide my cringe.

“Good man. Come on. I got one right in my game room.”

Reader POV

There wasn’t really anything you wanted from the silent auction but you had found a general donation slip at the end of the table and jotted down your agent’s information. You’d looked around for Eric and Sloane or the girl when you finished but hadn’t found any of them which probably wasn’t a good sign. You frowned and walked over the railings edge, looking around the dim yard for any sign of them.

“Bruschetta?” asked one of the servers.

“No thank you,” you said without looking.

“I must insist,” he said. You rolled your eyes, ready to give it to this guy but something seemed familiar about him. He handed you one on a small napkin as you kept staring. “Take a bite and smile, pretend it’s really good.”

You’d had more than a handful of dangerous fan interactions over the years but this felt…different.

You did as he asked, faking wide eyes at the average at best food. “Who are you?”

“Do not make a scene,” he said as you finished off the food. “I need to get to your bodyguards.”

“Are you trying to protect that girl? Cecilia?” you asked as you played along and took another piece off the tray.

“What? No. I don’t have time for this,” he said, stepping in front of you, your gaze narrowing. “Do not ask questions. Just get me and Max the fuck out of here.”

“Max?” Your heart skipped a beat, the food falling from your hand as you understand where you’d seen him before. “Y-You’re Sam.”

“We’re watched. Get your guards to get us out. Don’t get caught or we’re dead,” he said, turning away and offering a couple nearby food from his tray. You swallowed, instantly putting on your performer’s smile. The one you wore that time you had food poisoning during a concert and were throwing up between songs back in the summer. The crowd had no fucking clue you felt like shit while you gave them the show of their lives.

Time to act your fucking ass off.

You walked past Sam without a second glance, wishing you could ask him all the questions swirling around in your head. Tell him he was going to be okay. Give him a damn hug and tell him he was safe now.

But you wore that damn smile, all while your blood was boiling. You’d had a lot of dark fantasies about what you’d do to the person that took Max. In recent weeks that’d turned to include Sam too.

It turned out the monster was a hundred feet away from you inside some fucking mansion.

“Y/N,” said Sloane, appearing through a set of open doors in the house, catching your arm a little roughly. “Stay in public.”

“I need to talk-” She shot daggers at you, shutting you up.

“Stay in public for the love of god or Eric will kill me,” she said, loosening her grip. “In forty five seconds I need you to be the biggest distraction in the world. Do not go in any rooms with anyone. Your fame will keep you safe but only if there are people around to witness it. Eric has eyes on him. Do not ask questions. Understand?”

“Sam’s on the veranda,” you whispered, Sloane nodding. Cecilia must have told her and Eric about your brothers.

“Go give us a shot to get them out of here.” You nodded and slipped inside, heart thumping away in your throat. Max was with with Eric. Wherever he was, he was with Eric. He was safe. And Sam should have been with Sloane by then. They were both safe.

As long as they got them out of this house and into the damn car before anyone could notice. Before all those private security guards seemingly on the edge of every room could stop them. Your driver was fast though. They just had to get the boys in the car and they’d be alright.

So you needed to be a distraction. A big fucking distraction and buy them time. You froze in the middle of the hallway, watching Sebastian leave a room with Dean by his side, horribly annoyed from the looks of it. An idea sparked in your mind, one you hoped Dean forgave you for someday.

Yeah, you knew how to cause a big fucking distraction alright.

Dean POV

“You son of a bitch!” screamed Y/N. Normal people could scream loud. A goddamn professional singer that could belt out ballads while running? The whole house went silent at her ear piercing shriek. Even the string orchestra stopped playing. I stared at her as she climbed on top of a table in the center hall, my eyes going wide. “You fucking cheater! You’re a fucking cheater Dean Winchester!”

“Excuse me?” I said, a hundred already with their phones out with even more people piling into the house from the veranda. “Sweetheart-”

“Don’t sweetheart me!” she screamed again. What the fuck was happening? “You’re a cheating bastard! You swore you were different!”

“Y/N, get off the table,” I said gently, very aware of the many phones that were facing us, even some from the freaking staff and private event security. Y/N only backed away when I reached for her, fury in her eyes so visceral it felt like it burned. “Y/N what-”

“I know what you did with her! By the fucking cherry blossoms? Our cherry blossoms? You think you can sleep around on me? I’m the motherfucking Princess of Pop! The world fucking loves me!”

Something was wrong. Besides the fact I hadn’t cheated, Y/N wasn’t one to scream at people from tabletops. She wasn’t drunk and she wasn’t on drugs. And we had no fucking cherry blossoms. Except for the fact it was the code to get in her house.

Trust. She was asking me to fucking trust her right now in front of three hundred people while she tore down my reputation.

If my girl was losing her shit, well damn I was going to play right along.

“Oh get off your high fucking horse!” I shouted, Y/N flinching for a brief moment like it’d stung. “I never made you promises. We aren’t even fucking exclusive!”

“What?!” she shouted back as Sebastian came over, clearing his throat.

“Perhaps if you two could-”

“This bitch is a moron for thinking I’d ever want someone like her. Of course I’m dicking around with you! You really think I want some goodie two shoes like you?”

“Man whore!” she shouted.

“Fucking prude!” I screamed back, praying to god Y/N knew that every word out of my mouth was a lie. “No wonder no one wants to date you. Getting in your pants wasn’t even worth it!”

“Funny since getting in yours just takes a smile. I’m surprised you haven’t contracted every disease known to man you pig!”

“At least I get some! You’re wound up so tight surprised anything can fucking fit up there!” Fuck, I was really going to hate myself in the morning.

Y/N was halfway through screaming back at me when I felt both my phone and Y/N’s go off in my pocket.

YOUR BROTHERS ARE SAFE. HOST SECURITY KNOWS WE GOT THEM OUT. OUR SECURITY & FEDS ON THE WAY. ETA TEN MINUTES. DON’T TRUST LOCAL COPS. CORRUPTED. HOST IS BAD GUY. STAY AWAY FROM HIM AND GUARDS. DO WHAT YOU HAVE TO TO STAY IN PUBLIC.

“What the fuck does brothers safe mean?” I asked, tossing my phone to her. Y/N caught it one handed, her whole body relaxing momentarily before tensing again, her rage suddenly on it’s true target.

Sebastian Monroe.

“Our brothers were here,” she grit out. She ripped off her heels and hopped down onto the floor, stalking over to Sebastian slowly like he was her prey. Her face darkened and I swore she looked ready to tear someone’s throat out. “Our baby brothers were in this fucking house! As your servers! Not of their free will! No. No, they were being watched. Forced. Last I checked, our baby brothers were kidnapped and they didn’t get un-fucking kidnapped.”

She gripped her heel tight in her left hand, right clenched so hard I saw the bone against the skin of her knuckles.

“I don’t care if you weren’t the one that took them. But you kept them and I’m going to fucking destroy you for it,” she growled, approaching him as my brain tried to catch up.

“Y/N what are-”

“I saw Sam! And he was scared and said they’d kill him if he got caught talking to me. They’re safe now but Sam and Max were forced to live here. By him.” Her head turned towards Sebastian, his own head glancing at his security team. “What the fuck did you do to our brothers?”

It clicked for me what she’d been saying, what the text meant, why Y/N had acted so out of character. So full of hatred. But I barely had a chance to feel that same hatred.

Because in the blink of an eye, one of Sebastian’s guards grabbed at Y/N and her fist shot out, connecting with the man’s jaw. He seemed alarmed at her strength and fell back, another guard trying to get their hands on her.

“Get off!” she shouted, kneeing another guy before flipping him on his back. But there were too many of them and I rushed forward, yanking her behind me just as Sebastian got in my face.

He eyed me up and down, smirking at me. “Oh you two just made a big mistake.”

He clasped his hands together loudly as his guards surrounded us, turning his attention to the rest of the party.

“Let’s give the love birds some privacy to sort out their issues,” he chuckled. “And maybe keep an eye on the open bar, hm?”

He spun back around and leaned in close, the stench of cigars and alcohol on his breath.

“Get your brothers back here or I’ll fuck her up so badly there won’t be anything left to bury.” He gripped my shoulder, too forcefully. “And then I’ll bury you alive in the woods all the while the world will think you got in a drunken accident on the way home. After all you had a very loud and public argument tonight. With the friends I have in certain positions of authority…I can make even you two disappear like nothing.”

Y/N gripped the back of my suit jacket tight, a slight tremble in her hand as she listened to him speak.

“Get those boys back and get those guards back in the next ten minutes or I start cutting off pieces of the damn princess of pop.”

________

A/N: Read the Final Part here!

#supernatural #spn #dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean x you #spn fanfic #supernatural fanfic #dean x #dean winchester fanfic #football au

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natimiles · 2 months

Text

I See the Light (Levi x reader)

Summary: It’s your wedding day with Levi!

Words: 1500

Tags: female reader; wedding; established relationship; assertive Levi (but not that much).

Notes: IT’S MY 5TH WEDDING ANNIVERSARY TODAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY! And you guys will celebrate it with me with this cute little fic where we marry Levi. I’m gonna be self-indulgent today, so we have a female reader.

The title is the song from Tangled, I walked down the aisle at my wedding to that song. Half of Levi’s vows are from his proposal at the “Wedding” event. And the reader’s vows are my real vows, teehee. I cut some stuff so it isn’t too big and adapted the demon references, but it’s essentially mine. Yes, I said it all at my wedding, and there’s one awesome picture with everyone laughing with a big :O face.

This is queued because I’m obviously not here today. Enjoy the fluffy!

“I swear I’ll hit you,” Asmo threatens, pulling the tie a little more roughly than needed to tie the knot, just to make his point.

“S-sorry,” Levi says, taking his hand away from his mouth with a sheepish smile.

He hasn’t felt this nervous in so long… But could he be blamed? It’s an important situation, one that makes him anxious and sends him spiraling.

He never thought he’d be so nervous doing something with you — well, not anymore. You’ve been together for so long, sharing your days and nights with him, showering him with love and appreciation. After all these years, he grew accustomed to all of it. So feeling nervous now is kind of new again.

He knows better than to test his brother’s ire, and he knows that if he bites his nails and ruins the nail polish — again — Asmo will kill him.

And you’d have no one to marry today if his brother killed him.

Levi tries to calm himself down. He closes his eyes and thinks about you. You must look so beautiful in a wedding dress. You didn’t let him see it yet, saying it’d bring bad luck — some human superstition. He imagines you in the room next to his, getting ready for this important day...

“Just breathe,” Asmo smiles. “Everything is going according to plan.”

“Alright,” Levi tries to take a deep breath, but it’s shaky. He wonders if you’re ready, if you can start this and bind yourselves to each other for eternity, and... Oh... Oh, he hopes you attend it. You wouldn’t run away, right? You’ve had years to realize he was a loser; it’d be really mean if you decided to leave him now... He frowns; his hands are sweating again, and— “Ouch!”

“I told you I’d hit you if you bit your nails,” Asmo glares. “I’ve already painted them three times, and we have no time left to do a fourth. So stop it.”

A soft knock on the door interrupts the two brothers’ light fight, and Satan peeks his head inside.

“Are you finished? She’s good to go.”

“Good to—” Levi starts yelling.

“To go get married, Levi!” Asmo cuts him shortly, pinching his arm and earning a loud yelp. “For the love of anything!”

“Don’t need to hit me,” he mumbles, rubbing the spot where he was pinched.

Satan chuckles, looking at the banter. “Can we go?”

“Wait!” Asmo raises a hand to make them stop. He checks his brother, his eyes roaming over him one last time to make sure everything is fine. The dark blue suit is pristine, the tie is straight, Levi’s hair is still in place (combed back), his makeup is good, and his nails are still painted. “Alright, let’s go!”

When the three arrive at the entrance to the Demon Castle Garden, they meet the rest of their brothers, Simeon and Solomon, gathered there. They whistle, cheer, and smile, making Levi blush even more. Asmo complains, saying he forbids them from making Levi start biting his nails again and adjusts everyone in line to start.

With everyone ready, the Avatar of Lust flicks his wrist, and a soft song starts to play on the speakers on the other side of the door, making everyone there fall silent. As the door in front of them opens, it’s possible to finally see the garden and everyone waiting there.

The long dark blue carpet connects the beginning to the end of the corridor where they’ll walk down now. The string lights hung in the trees — probably with a bit of magic — giving an air of stars illuminating the place. The large vases beside the rows of chairs, filled with flowers from the Devildom and the Human Realm, in beautiful compositions of navy blue and orange.

The best men start to walk in pairs through the corridor, splitting into two when they reach the end — one pair going to Levi’s side and the other to yours. One by one, the pairs walk: Asmo and Solomon, Lucifer and Mammon, Belphie and Beel, Satan and Simeon...

“I think I’m dying,” Levi mumbles under his breath, to no one in particular.

The song changes slightly, and he closes his eyes for a few seconds to take a deep breath. He regrets suggesting he could enter alone so his brothers could pair between them with no problem. Levi feels the cold sweat trickling down his spine, making his whole body shiver. It’s so scary; he wonders how people do that without passing out. But he will be strong, and he will fight this anxiety one more time — for you.

He reopens his eyes and takes one step forward. He is so nervous he can’t even look to the sides to see who attended the wedding. Slow and steady, he makes his way to the end of the corridor. He breathes a sigh of relief when he gets there, turning around to see the guests. Levi smiles softly, but it falters when the song stops and the door is closed again.

For a few seconds, it’s all silent and quiet, but then your song starts.

This is it.

There’s no turning back.

You won’t run from him.

You’ll never be away from him ever again.

You’ll share your lives and stay together forever.

The door slowly opens, and his breath catches in his throat. Your white dress sparkles under the moonlight of the Devildom and the fairy lights in the garden. You’re smiling, and he notices how nervous you are when you meet his gaze. In an instant, you’re right in front of him, and he sees you’re just as emotional as he is, which soothes him.3

The ceremony goes well, with Diavolo being responsible for officiating it and saying a few words about humans and demons coexisting together.

And it’s time for you and Levi to say your vows. The sea serpent demon is shaking so hard, you think he might faint at any moment, but he does his best to keep it together. He reaches for one of the rings and holds it in his hand to pronounce his vows to you.

“I always mess everything up when it counts the most, but this is who I am,” he starts with a shaky voice, slowly gaining courage. “I want you to be with me despite that. I never thought I’d be lucky enough to find someone, but I found you. I want us to overcome the difficult stages in life together and defeat whatever stands in our way. I promise to always, always love and cherish you. To infinity and beyond.”

You smile widely as his unsteady hands put the ring on your finger, kissing it lightly right after.

It’s your turn now, so you grab his ring to do the same. And looking into those deep sunset eyes, you begin your vows.

“Who thought we would be here today, getting married? Me,” you smile, and he returns it, blushing slightly. “Because I liked you since the first time I saw you. And after 4 years, 11 months, and 11 days together, it’s finally our time, and I couldn’t be happier to be marrying you. You’re the most wonderful and beautiful demon I know, inside and out. It’s really easy to be with you because you never laugh at the things I share with you, and our silliness complements each other. You are, above everything else, my best friend; the Lord of Shadows to my Henry. Lots of things might change now, but I promise you that my love will never change. I promise to always be your support and keep my games updated. I promise to bring you breakfast in bed on all your birthdays, and I promise to expect the same thing on mine. I promise to make you happy in the same proportion that you make me, and to be by your side forever because ‘the team is us’. I can’t see me loving nobody but you for all my life. I love you, to infinity and beyond.”

With shaky hands and your vision blurred with tears, you slide the wedding ring on Levi’s finger, giving him a peck too. He reaches for your face and cups your cheeks, wiping the happy tears with his thumbs.

You’re so giggly inside, like your happiness can’t be contained anymore. And when Diavolo finally says you two can kiss, it’s like everything explodes. His lips are glued to yours in no time, and you’re returning the kiss with the same intensity.

All shyness, anxiety, and nervousness are left behind, for now, it’s like there’s only the two of you. You can’t hear the guests cheering, or Mammon crying saying he’s happy but that’s enough kissing, or Asmo whistling suggestively and loud.

It’s just the two of you, in your own little world.

You pull away to look into each other’s eyes, foreheads pressed against each other, and you know this is the start of an even happier life.

Taglist: @sh0jun @chandeliermichel @judejazza

Masterlists

#celebrate my wedding anniversary with me!#obey me #obey me writings #obey me fanfics #obey me levi #obey me leviathan #obey me x reader #obey me shall we date #obey me levi x reader #obey me leviathan x reader

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afictionaladventure16 · 22 days

Note

Hiii!! i love all your writings and saw that you wanted an idea for tim bradford angst.

if possible, can you do tim bradford x teen!daughter where she gets held hostage or in trouble and he become really overprotective and worried for her?

thanks so much!! 🩷🩷

Safe & Sound (Tim Bradford x Adopted!Daughter)

Pt. 2

The Rookie Masterlist

Warnings: Mentions of kidnapping, stabbing, mentions of self-harm, beating, and potential death.

Word Count: 11,027

A/N: Alright, this is the fic that I wrote because of the poll and this request. I hope you guys enjoy it! High key, proud of this one since it is the longest fic I have written! Tim Bradford requests are open! Also, if there are mistakes... um... no, there isn't... ignore it... lol and I know there wasn't much Lucy in this one, I realize that after I wrote everything... I promise to write more Lucy in the next ones.

Side note: Diego Luna is Diego Garcia

Gael Garcia Bernal is Gael Garcia...

Y/N's eyes darted between Angela and Y/N's dad for the past ten minutes as they argued over where the centerpieces should go and for some reason, Y/N felt like this was something she’d flipped about. Yet, here they were flipping out about the position of the centerpiece.

“What do you think?” Angela finally asked y/n, her hands on her hips and a stern look on her face.

“Does it matter?” She asked.

Y/N could see the switch flip in Angela’s eyes, Tim couldn’t help but let out a small chuckle before placing a soft hand on Angela’s shoulder, “Just put them how you want, Angela, we have more important things to worry about,” he had waved the white flag.

Angela nodded, “you’re right,” she began, her eyes landing on y/n, “We still need you to shower, get dressed, and do your hair and makeup. All in under,” she looked at her watch, eyes widened as she realized the time. “Two hours!” She exclaimed.

Y/N let out a sigh, “Alright, let’s go.” She followed Angela out of the banquet hall.

Suppose y/n had asked her ten-year-old, scared self that in a few years, she’d be surrounded by people who loved her like they shared the same blood, with no conditions attached. That she’d be getting ready for her quince and that she was happy. Her younger self would have called her crazy, mostly because, at the time, she didn’t see any hope. Yet, here she was, looking at herself in the mirror as she wore her quince dress, hair styled in a half-up and half-down with curls, and the makeup wasn’t over the top but complimented her face.

“What do you think?” Angela asked, grinning from ear to ear as she looked at her in the mirror.

“I love it,” y/n smiled, tears beginning to form in her eyes.

“Oh no,” Angela quickly grabbed a tissue and helped y/n wipe away the tears before it ruined her makeup, “What’s wrong? Is there something you don’t like?”

y/n couldn’t help but let out a small chuckle, “No, it’s not that,” she glanced back at herself in the mirror. “I just never thought I’d be this lucky.”

Angela smiled, she opened her mouth to say something but quickly turned at the sound of a knock at the door. “Can I come in?” Tim asked from the other side of the door.

Angela rolled her eyes, “Come in.” Tim entered the room, “you’re supposed to be keeping an eye on everything,” Angela scowled.

Tim held his hands up, “In my defense, Lucy said she had it handled and rushed me to come get dressed.”

Angela sighed, “Alright, well I guess I should get ready, you don’t mind if I use the bathroom to change?”

Tim shook his head, “by all means, go ahead.” Angela walked out of the room. Y/n couldn’t help but continue to stare at herself in the mirror, “You look beautiful, sweetie.”

“You think so?”

Tim nods, “And I’m not just saying that because I’m your dad and I have to.” He walked over and planted a kiss on top of her head, “Our ride will be here an hour, so why don’t you help Angela get ready.”

“On it,” y/n smiled and walked out of the room.

Within the hour, everyone had gotten ready and it was time to head back to the banquet hall. It wasn’t long until y/n was back at the banquet hall, making an entrance to her guests clapping. It all felt surreal and she didn’t want it to end.

She danced with her friends as planned, and then surprised her guests with a surprise dance. By the time it was all over, she was exhausted, but when she heard the music slowly die down she was quick to catch on to what was going on.

“If I could have everyone’s attention,” Tim began, as he waited a few seconds for everyone to quiet down. “I would just like to thank you all for coming out tonight, it means a lot to us. I also have a small speech prepared, I’m not accustomed to how quince’s go, but I’ve been told that I need to make a speech.” Tim scanned the crowd, his eyes landing on y/n, he smiled, “As many as you know, Y/N is adopted, but that doesn’t mean I love her any less, if anything it means I love her more. I think I knew from the day I met her, that there was something special in her and that I wasn’t just supposed to save her that day…” Tim could recall that moment when he knew that somehow you were destined to be a part of his life and somehow you were brought into his life to save him from his pain.

~~ Then ~~

Tim cursed under his breath when he told himself it was a quiet shift because only a second later he got a call about a possible double homicide with a little girl who had called 9-1-1. He knew that whatever this little girl saw, it would stay with her the rest of her life and this wasn’t the first time he had answered calls like these. Yet, something about this one felt different.

He was the first one on the scene when he arrived at the house, he took out his gun and slowly approached the house, the front door was already open. Slowly, Tim made his way through the house, checking every room as he walked through. He stopped when he walked into the master bedroom, seeing the bodies of a woman and a man on the floor. He walked over and checked for a pulse.

“Dispatch, this is Officer Bradford, we got two DBs on the scene,” Tim said into his walkie. Tim could hear the distant sounds of sirens approaching, backup had arrived.

A sound of ruffling came from behind him, he quickly turned around to face a closet door. Tim raised his gun as he slowly approached the door, “this is LAPD, come out of the closet,” Tim stated, and he was met with silence. He opened the door slowly, his eyes widened when his eyes landed on a little girl. He lowered his gun and bent down, “Hey, it’s okay.” He tried his best to sound as soft as possible, but she inched backward until she hit the wall. He noticed her eyes darted behind him, his heart raced as he turned around but no one was there. His eyes landed back down at the bodies on the floor. He blocked her view with his body.

“Do you want to play a game?” Tim asked, y/n looked up at him and gave him a small nod.

“Alright, the rules are you have to close your eyes okay? Can you do that for me?” Tim asked. Y/n gave him a nod and closed her eyes. Tim got up, picking you up in the process. He was surprised at how light she was, given her age. He took her outside where other officers and paramedics began to arrive, one of the paramedics walked over to the two of them.

“She doesn’t seem to be injured but I would like to get her checked out, just in case,” Tim began.

The paramedic nodded as he reached out for her, but she quickly sunk more into Tim’s arms. The paramedic glanced at Tim, “looks like you got a puppy,” he commented, “mind carrying her to the rig?”

Tim let out a small sigh before following the paramedic to the rig, he held her in his arms as he sat in the back of the rig while the paramedic did his thing. She clung to his side the whole time, and for some reason, Tim was okay with it. Yes, it happened from time to time and sometimes Tim wished he was never put in that situation but this time, he felt this was where he was needed.

~~ NOW~~

“Little did I know that I was to gain a daughter that day and I am proud of the young lady she is becoming,” Tim glanced over to where y/n was, a prideful smile on his face, “Happy birthday, sweetie.” There was more that Tim wanted to say, stuff that made him feel uncomfortable in front of a room full of friends and family. He wasn’t uncomfortable because he didn’t want to say it, it was more because he never showed that side of him to those who barely knew him.

What he wanted to say would have to wait.

The party quickly resumed with everyone back on the dance floor and having the time of their lives. It wasn’t long before the night slowly began to die down, people began to go home and soon enough it was only a few people left. Y/N could feel the drowsiness hitting her eyes as she sat at one of the tables, she was thankful that she chose to get a second dress for the end of the night. Y/N was done with your quince dress an hour after she put it on and somehow Angela knew y/n would need a second dress.

“Tired?” Tim asked as he sat down on the chair next to y/n. She slowly nodded, laying her head on the table.

“Why don’t the two of you go home, I have people coming by in the morning to clean up,” Angela commented as she walked over to the table.

Tim nodded, gesturing for y/n to get up, “Thank you, again, Angela.”

“Hey, you helped me plan my wedding, the least I can do is help you plan your daughter’s quince, especially since you have no experience in this criteria.”

“Well, I appreciate it,” Tim hugged Angela, letting go to grab some of y/n’s things.

Y/N got up from the table and hugged Angela, “Thank you, Angela. You made my quince the highlight of the school year.” Angela smiled and placed a small kiss on Y/n’s forehead.

“Make sure to mention me in your popularity speech,” she winks.

“You’ll be the first one I thank,” y/n joked. She followed Tim out of the banquet hall.

“How are you feeling?” Tim asked as the both of them got in the truck.

“Sleep deprived.”

Tim grunted, “What?”

“Well, we have a birthday tradition we haven’t done this year.” She gave him a confused look, “Our hot chocolate at midnight,” he said in a surprised tone.

She let out a small chuckle, it was a tradition she had unknowingly started on her first birthday with her dad, “I completely forgot about that.”

“How could you forget? It’s a sacred tradition and we are about an hour late.”

She playfully rolled her eyes, “It slipped my mind with all the quince craziness.”

“You’re forgiven,” he smiled, starting the truck to head home. It wasn’t long before she was asleep, being tired and going on a car drive was not a good combo for her. It felt like seconds after she had closed her eyes, she was being woken up, only to realize that she had been asleep for twenty minutes.

“Come on, let’s get you to bed,” Tim suggested as he grabbed some of her things from the back seat.

She followed him inside the house, “I’m still down for that hot chocolate,” she commented.

“You sure?”

“It’s a tradition,” she smiled, “I’m just gonna take off all this makeup, give me five minutes.”

Your dad watched as you walked into your room, you were too stubborn for your own good and somehow he felt like he was to blame for that.

Tim went into the kitchen to make the two of you hot chocolate, he was adding marshmallows when everything went dark. “Crap,” he muttered to himself. “Damn outages,” he jumped into action, rushing over to the drawer where he kept his emergency kit, including his flashlight.

“Y/N, I’ll bring over some candles!” He yelled out. He waited for your response but he did not receive any, he was trying not to panic, maybe you were so busy taking off your makeup still that you didn’t get the chance to respond. But given the last time the power had gone off, he was expecting a response. Yes, it was the summer and there had been outages but it had mostly happened during the day.

Kojo began to whine and ran over to your door, beginning to scratch at the door. Something was wrong, Tim didn’t hesitate to run over to your door, “Y/N?” He called out. He waited another few seconds for you to respond. When you didn’t it was like all the alarms inside Tim’s head went off, “Y/N?!” He yelled. Again, no response.

He couldn’t wait any longer, he opened the door to find an empty dark room, he ran over to your bathroom and it was empty. He felt his heart drop, and he ran out into the hallway, “Y/N!?” he screamed. He went to every single room in the house, any place he thought you would hide, but why would you hide? To play a game of hide and seek? He didn’t know, he wished that was what was happening, He hoped. He stood in the middle of the living room, his breathing was erratic as he realized that you were gone. You were gone and it was while he was home, where he could protect you. Regardless of what happened, Tim felt responsible for everything.

His hands shook as he dialed 9-1-1, when he heard the voice on the other line, he couldn’t say the words. Maybe because saying it would mean it was reality, it wasn’t some nightmare he could just wake up from.

“Hello? 9-1-1, what’s your emergency?” The lady asked again.

Tim felt tears forming in his eyes, “My-my daughter is missing,” he choked out a sob before giving the dispatch his address.

“Sir, I need you to remain calm, can you tell me your daughter’s name and age?”

He let out a shaky breath, “Y/N,” he felt another sob making its way up his throat, part of him wanted to throw up. He didn’t know why he felt like throwing up, but the feeling was making its way up. “She just turned fifteen,” He managed to say.

“Do you know where she was taken from?”

Yes, he did. She was taken while I was present, he thought. “Our home,” He held back his sob.

“Can you describe what happened? What was she wearing?”

He needed Lucy. He needed someone to take over for him, he couldn’t do this. All he wanted to do was to run out into the streets and find her himself, but he knew he wouldn’t hold back if he did. He would tear whoever took her limb by limb, he wouldn’t show any mercy.

“Sir? Are there any open windows in her bedroom?”

It was like everything he learned in the academy, everything he had done on the job flew out the window the second he realized she wasn’t in her room.

He walked into the bedroom once more, “There is,” he said as he stared at the open window, “she doesn’t open her window, her screen ripped a while back.”

“Can you describe what happened before you realized she was missing?”

“I-I was making us hot chocolate and then the power went out.”

The dispatcher kept Tim on the phone until officers arrived, it didn’t take long for word to get to Sergeant Grey and somehow he arrived seconds after the first officer.

Sergeant Grey took matters into his own hands, calling up Angela and Lucy to the scene, one because Grey knew he needed the best detective on this case and the second because Tim needed the support right now.

“I need you to walk me through this Tim,” Angela said softly as she sat beside Tim on the couch.

He clasped his hands together, hoping it would stop the shaking, he was shaking so much. No matter what he tried it just wouldn’t stop. “I went into the kitchen to make us some hot chocolate and the power went out. I called out for Y/N and got no response, I gave it a second because I know sometimes it’s hard for her to respond when she’s taking off her makeup.”

Angela couldn’t help but smile at how much Tim had become a girl-dad within the past few years. He knew everything about his daughter and the habits she had. If she were on her time of the month, he was quick to get her the things she needed without being a guy about it. There were even times when Y/N’s period got so bad, that he allowed her to stay home from school. In Angela’s eyes, he was the ultimate girl-dad and she knew how lucky Y/N was to have him as one.

“I then walked over to her bedroom and called for her again and when she didn’t respond a second time I knew something was wrong. The third time I called out for her, I didn’t wait to go in the bedroom, that’s when I realized she-She was missing,” he choked out the last part, Lucy rubbed small circles on his back. She was trying her best to be his support system in his time of need.

Angela remembered noticing most of the neighborhood was out of power when she drove up, it could have been a planned thing or just a coincidence, “didn’t you just upgrade your alarm system? Especially the cameras?”

Tim instantly knew what Angela was trying to bring up, he quickly brought out his phone and pulled up the app. “Usually after an outage, the cameras remain on for ten minutes,” he commented, rewinding the footage to when they had arrived from the quince.

“There!” Angela pointed out, “That car pulls up a few houses down the same time you guys pull in.” They kept their eyes on the car as they watched the footage. They saw as the power went out and they saw the bushes on the side of the houses moving and then the car driving off in a hurry.

“It’s too dark to see anything,” Tim felt defeated. At this point, he knew that he wasn’t getting y/n back tonight, she wasn’t safe.

“Send me that footage, I’ll have my guys work on it. We’re not stopping until she’s home and she’s safe. For now, you should stay at Lucy’s,” Angela stated.

He shook his head, “We need to get out there, I need to be doing something to find her. Let me help.”

Angela shook her head, getting up from the couch, “Trust me on this, Tim. I know you want to be there, you want to go out and find her but you can’t. You need to trust me, I will find y/n and when I do, I’ll hold those who took her accountable.”

Tim opened his mouth to protest, “She’s right, Tim,” Lucy added. “The best we can do is be on the sidelines.”

Tim felt angry at them for, in football terms, benching him, when he felt like he should be out there with Angela trying to find his daughter. “When you were taken, we all looked for you, including Wesley. So don’t bench me. Don’t tell me to just stay home and not do anything, not after she has been kidnapped right under my fucking nose.”

Angela looked over at Lucy with a knowing look, “All alright, but you’ll be taking orders from me, what I say goes. I can’t afford to lose any of you if anything goes sideways.”

“Okay,” Tim said.

“I need you to promise me that when I tell you something you will listen,” Angela stated. Tim hesitated, he wanted to promise her, but also, he felt like there could be many situations where defying her orders could save you. But he needed to trust Angela. “Promise me, Bradford!”

“I promise.”

She let out a deep sigh, “Alright, let’s get to the station, we have a lot of work to do and my guys need to do a sweep of the house to see if they can find anything.”

The team spent the rest of the night at the station, they were trying to make a connection to the previous break-in, hoping that they could find something that could trace them back to y/n’s whereabouts. But with everything that they searched through, they had no luck.

Tim and Lucy sat in the conference room where they had a board up with potential suspects on the kidnapping, people who lived nearby and were on the offenders list. It was all dead ends. Angela had left to retrieve documents on Y/N’s adoption, mostly about who her biological parents were.

“Fuck!” Tim yelled as he threw papers across the conference room.

Lucy looked at him with concern on her face, “Tim, we’ll-”

“Don’t,” he snapped, “this is all my fault.” Tears formed in his eyes as he sat down on one of the chairs. A shaky sob escaped his lips, “I can’t lose her, Lucy. I can’t. I don’t know how to live in a world where she isn’t my daughter. I know we joke about having kids, but I only have one of her. Nothing will replace her and I never want to replace her.”

Lucy sat beside him, “I know,” she softly said.

“I can’t lose her. I don’t think I would be able to handle it.”

This was a side of Tim that Lucy was beginning to see more and more now that they were in a relationship. It was a side of Tim that she wished more people knew about, but she understood why they didn’t. Yes, he had this mentality that if he showed this side of himself to just anyone then there would be no room for people to take him seriously.

But here he was, showing this side of himself in the middle of the conference room, where the walls were made of glass, making them the attractions in a zoo. Anyone could see, but they were in their little bubble for the moment. What happened beyond those glass walls didn’t matter, who saw them, didn’t matter. What mattered was that she was there for him in his need.

“You know when I first met you, I never would have imagined you had a kid, let alone had adopted her. But then I saw her and the way you were with her and I could just tell, she was your kid. If you hadn’t told me that you had adopted her, I would have never guessed it.” Lucy’s fingers brushed his chin, pulling his face to look at her, “I know you will search every inch of this city to find her, but remember that you have a team behind you that is searching with you. We will find her, Tim.”

Tim felt tears falling from his eyes, “it’s all my fault, Lucy. I was supposed to keep her safe.”

She shook her head, “It’s not your fault, Tim. You did everything right you kept her as safe as you could.”

Angela walked into the conference room with a beaming smile, “I found something.”

Tim quickly got up from his seat, “what?”

“I had to do some bribing, but I got y/n’s adoption records uncovered and her biological parents aren’t who they said they were.”

“What?” Tim asked in disbelief.

“Her father was one of the sons of one of the biggest drug lords in Mexico, apparently he came to the U.S. to start a fresh new life with his wife and newborn daughter,” Angela hands Tim a photo of y/n’s biological parents when she was just a newborn. For some reason, Tim felt speechless as he looked at the photo in front of him. He wondered what his daughter was like at that age, the thought of it, made his heart ache. He hated that he missed out on so much, it was something that given their situation was bound to happen, but he felt grateful that he was given the chance to be her father now.

“She was a cute baby,” Angela commented as she watched how Tim was so focused on the photo in front of him, he probably didn’t even hear a word she had said a second ago.

“She was,” Tim smiled before putting his focus back on Angela, “you were saying?”

She couldn’t help but let out a dry chuckle, “As I was saying before you got into a trance, it looks like Gael and Luna, Y/n’s biological parents were killed by one of another drug lord's men. Hearing this news caused his father to have a heart attack and he almost literally died from a broken heart causing the younger brother of Gael, Deigo, to take over daddy's company.”

“You didn’t know any of this?” Lucy asked.

Tim shook his head, “All I was told was that it was a robbery gone wrong, obviously someone wanted to cover this up.”

“And I have a lucky guess on who that was,” Angela said as she put up a picture of a man who looked similar to Diego, standing next to another man. “The man on the right is Diego Garcia, Gael’s brother and now rightful leader of one of Mexico’s biggest mafia, and the other guy Jesse Ortega, A.K.A. El Patron, One of Mexico’s biggest drug cartels.”

“So, what are we thinking? That Jesse has y/n?”

Angela shook her head, “I have more, the way y/n’s biological parents were murdered is similar to how y/n was almost kidnapped and then kidnapped. They also caused a power outage before entering the home, now the question is-”

“Why in the hell would they want y/n?” Tim interrupted.

Angela shrugged, “leverage? All I know is that we need to find someone who has a connection with Diego and we need to find it fast. We know what these people are capable of.” She looked down, regretting her words as soon as she had said them, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.”

“No, we have to face the reality,” Tim uttered, “there is a chance…” he stopped, he couldn’t believe that he was going even to say it, “a chance that she may come back.”

“We’re not going to let that happen,” Lucy said.

Tim gave Lucy a hopeful smile, she was optimistic even when those surrounding her weren’t. She was optimistic in an annoying way that if she had ever stopped, he would miss it.

It had been what felt like a week since y/n had seen the sun since she remembered what it felt like to feel the comfort of her bed. She had been tied up on a chair since she’d been kidnapped, only allowed to get up to go to the bathroom or to stretch for ten minutes. Her captors were human enough to allow her just that. The only way she knows what time it is is by the sound of birds chirping outside, she knows it is morning by the sound of the mourning dove and when it is night by the sound of the crickets and frogs.

She knows she has to be near water because of the frogs and because of how some of the men complained about the mosquitos. This is how she spent her time, studying.

She has studied her captor's moves and the daily routines they did to make the time go by. She’d be lying to herself if she said she wasn’t at all scared because every minute that passed by her fear worsened. One thing in particular was that they hadn’t given her much attention. They gave her a small bottle of water that she was supposed to make last for the day, and a small meal a day which always looked like leftovers of the meal they chose not to eat.

Y/N jumped in her chair to the sound of a door slamming, she could hear footsteps escalating towards her, and her eyes widened as the door to the room she was in swung open. One of the guards that sat in the room was quick to react letting out a relieved sigh when he realized who it was.

“Dude, why do you have to come in like that? You almost gave me a heart attack,” The guard commented as he took a seat once again.

“We have to get out of here,” the guy that entered the room says.

“What?”

“Our location could be blown, it’s been a week since we’ve heard the word,” the guy makes his way towards y/n, tugging at her arm, a gesture for her to get up.

Y/n groans in pain, her legs sore from being in a position for so long, “What about-”

“He’ll know where to find us, plus, at this point, I feel like he’s just taking his sweet ass time to come and get his prize.” The man led her out of the room.

“Wait!” The guard said as he reached for the blindfold in his back pocket, tying the piece of fabric around her eyes. “Alright, now let’s go.”

Y/n felt herself being led down a dirt path, and then being pushed into the trunk of a car. Then it was silent for a moment before she heard the roar of the engine and they were moving. This was her moment, she slowly began to loosen the rope tied around her wrists, she had been slowly working on it when her captors weren’t in the room. She had almost had it this morning before she was interrupted. The relief came instantly, as she brought her arms in front of her to bring down the blindfold. To her surprise, the trunk felt like being in an abyss, she was surrounded by darkness. Her hands searched above her, she knew there had to be a latch of some sort to open this trunk. Unless her captors were smart enough to remove it.

She was beginning to give up, feeling tears beginning to form in her eyes. “Please,” she begged to any god that existed and was listening. All she wanted to do was go home, she wanted to feel safe in her dad's arms; Wondering why he hadn’t found her yet, but she knew that he would. Any moment he will be here to rescue her.

Maybe that’s why they had to move locations.

Her hands continued to trace the fabric above her, she let out a small gasp as her fingers touched something that wasn’t fabric. She took in a deep breath and pulled on the piece of plastic and in an instant the trunk opened. Y/n jumped out of the trunk with no hesitation, she yelped as she hit the ground and rolled on the pavement.

Y/N let out a pain-stricken yell as she slowly got up to her feet, she heard tires screeching to a halt.

“Fuck,” she said, turning around to see the car she had just jumped out of coming to a complete stop. Y/n only had a few seconds to take in her surroundings, it was dark and there was nothing but trees from what her eyes could see.

She heard the engine beginning to come closer, it was now or never, she ran towards the trees. The sound of a car door closing caused her to use all her energy to run faster, but she could feel it quickly draining. Maybe this is why they fed her so little, to keep her from having the energy to run.

The lack of food and water was getting to her, but she knew she couldn’t give up, she needed to find safety.

The crash came quickly, one minute she was alert and running and the next she was on the ground. She was quick to come to, she let out a sob as she attempted to get back up.

“Not so fast,” One of the men says as he grabs her arm, “Nice try.” He picks her up from the ground, holding a tight grip on her arm. “I got her!” he yells out.

Footsteps could be heard coming closer to where they were, “Fucking bitch,” the other guy, who happens to be the guard, says. He swings his arm back, his fist meeting Y/n’s mouth causing her to lose her balance. She lets out a small sob, “Let’s get back to the car, Hugo.”

Finally, a name. Hugo helped y/n back to her feet, “You know he’s not gonna like that you did that,” he commented. “You know how he is about his things.”

The guard shrugged, “it’ll just be a slap on the wrist.”

Time was slipping by like a thin thread that was hard to see and hard to get a hold of. Tim felt like he was frozen, watching as his friends and family came by the house day by day to check up on him. Lucy came every day to walk Kojo because if she didn’t know any better, she would have sworn he never left his spot on the couch. It had been weeks since their last breakthrough, the day after Y/N was kidnapped, and since then every lead they have had led them to a dead end. At some point, Tim was beginning to lose it, he felt anger residing within him.

Anger towards himself and to y/n’s captors. He had anger. After all, he was confused and angry because he couldn’t crack the case. He felt like he should be able to find her within a second, but when he was left with nothing but crumbs that once served as hope, he slowly fell into his pit of despair.

Angela didn’t give up, she knew there was something within the lines that she must have overlooked. She wasn’t going to let the guilt win her, not when it had won over Tim. She knew there had to be one still searching through the crumbs that were left of this disaster.

“We’re going to find her, Tim,” Angela said, walking around the coffee table to come face-to-face with her best friend. “Do you hear me?”

Tim continued to stare into the blank space that was the TV. his eyes never leaving his reflection.

“Tim, you can’t give up. You need to be strong for y/n because when we find her she’s going to need you more than ever,” Angela began to say. “She’s going to need her dad to bring her back to life, we have no idea what kind of hell she is going through righ-”

“How do we even know she’s still alive?” Tim finally spoke up, breaking his eye contact with his reflection to look at Angela.

Angela could see the fear in his eyes, the hope and desperation that still lay within them but was withering out, “How could you think that?”

Tim turned away, blinking his tears away, “You and I both know the chances of survival of someone being kidnapped, especially those who are gone for weeks.”

“You can’t think that way, you need to think like a cop-”

“I’m thinking like a father, Angela!” Tim yelled. “My daughter could probably be dead in some ditch and I have to prepare myself for that possibility. I have to prepare myself for the possibility that she-” Tim let out a cry, “she might not come home,” he sobbed.

“And I don’t know how to live with it. I don’t want to live in a world where she isn’t in it,” Tim cried. “She brought me so much happiness when I couldn’t find any and now she’s gone and I couldn’t stop it,” Tim looked at Angela with glass eyes, “I was supposed to protect her, so what kind of father does that make me?”

Angela pulled Tim in for a hug, “you can’t always protect them, Tim. We all know that you can’t blame yourself for something that was out of your control.” Angela released the hug, holding Tim’s head in her hands, “I need you to pull yourself together, not for me or Lucy, but for Y/N. She needs you.”

Tim knew Angela was right, he had to pull himself together. He gave her a small nod, as he got up from his spot on the couch and walked to the hallway, “Where are you going?”

“To shower, I doubt you want me finding my daughter when I stink like dirty laundry,” he shouted out.

Angela rolled her eyes, grabbing her phone from her pocket.

I somehow got him to shower

She had sent a text to Lucy, who decided to stay back at the station to give the paperwork a second look. Lucy had felt like all her attempts on trying to get Tim off the couch had failed, all she had received from him were grunts or blank stares. She never took it personally, but knowing it didn’t take Angela long, made her heartache.

They’ve been best friends for a while, she thought to herself. She shook her mind off of it before looking back at the paperwork.

Before she could continue what she was reading, she was interrupted by a knock at the door. She turned to see an unfamiliar face smiling back at her, “Hi, I’m looking for a Tim Bradford.”

Lucy found it strange to see civilians inside the station at such a late hour, but maybe he wasn’t a civilian. “Um, h-he’s not here at the moment, but can I help you?” Something about this man looked familiar to her, she just couldn’t figure it out.

“I must speak to Mr. Bradford,” the man said as he glanced outside the door. Lucy quickly caught on to the men guarding the door. She glanced back down at the photos in front of her before turning back to look at the man at the door.

“D-Diego,” Lucy mumbled as she got up from her seat.

The man sighed, “I’m not here to hurt you, I’m here to help,” he held up his hands. “You can search me and my men, you might find a gun on them, but they know not to do anything stupid, especially inside a police station.”

“How did you get in here?”

“It’s fairly easy when you spend your whole life doing these kinds of things,” he smiles before pointing to a chair near Lucy. “May I sit?”

Lucy nods, “Why are you here?”

“Like I said I want to help, now how long before Mr. Bradford gets here?” Diego looks at his watch before glancing at Lucy.

“Lucy?” Tim yelled out as he walked into their apartment, he was worried sick after she stopped answering his calls when she had texted Angela to meet at her apartment.

“Why the hell would she want us to meet here?” Angela asked as she closed the door behind them.

“Oh good,” Lucy said as she came out from her bedroom, “I know you guys have a lot of quest-”

“Why did you stop answering my calls?” Tim asked as he pulled Lucy in for a hug.

“I’m sorry, I just got caught up on-” Lucy realizes mid-sentence that Tim has a tighter grip on her, “I-I’m sorry, Tim.” For a moment, she let it slip that maybe not answering her phone caused panic to surge through Tim’s body. She could only imagine what he could have been thinking on the drive over, the worry he must have felt.

“ ‘s alright,” Tim says as he lets go of the embrace.

“Now can I have an explanation as to why all of our documents are in your apartment and not at the station, and how the hell did you get this big ass board here in thirty minutes?” Angela asks.

“I had some help,” Lucy began to say.

“Lucy, I can not thank you enough fo-” Diego stops mid-sentence, a smile forming on his face, “Mr. Bradford, it is so nice to finally meet you.”

“Diego Garcia,” Angela quickly drew out her gun.

Diego held his hands up, “I come in peace and empty-handed, Detective Lopez.” Angela gave a knowing glance towards Tim, “Yes, you can even search me, even though Lucy here already has.”

“Twice,” Lucy added.

“But if it makes you feel better, I’ll allow a third pat down,” Diego smiles.

Angela holsters her gun, “I’ll trust Lucy’s word,” she says, “now explain.”

“Well, after you left, Diego showed up and at first he would not tell me anything unless Tim was there, but I managed to get him to tell me some of what he had to say and given the situation, I felt it would be better if we met here. Away from the station, so we could all talk privately,” Lucy explained, she waited for a few seconds for someone to say something. Angela stood there, staring at Lucy like she was trying to make sense of it all. “Well?”

“I’m still trying to figure out if what you did was stupid or smart,” Angela then looks over at Diego, “and you’re awfully brave for coming into a station considering who you are.”

Diego smirks, “I am a wise man and as a wise man I know that you only have information on what others have said about me. But I am willing to risk it all if it means that my y/n is safe.”

Angela turned her head slightly at what Diego had just said, “Surprised you even care when you didn’t even take her in after her parents were brutally murdered.”

Diego took a deep breath, “I thought it would be for the best that she stayed away from this lifestyle, it’s what my brother would have wanted.” Diego noticed the photos that fell out of one of the folders, he couldn’t help himself as he began to look at them.

“Then explain why Jesse Ortega has my daughter,” Tim said, “Because for the last few weeks, nothing has been making sense to me.”

Angela saw the way he looked at those photos like they were his prized possessions, it was then that realization hit her. Nothing was making sense because it wasn’t true. “He doesn’t have to,” Angela said, suddenly understanding.

Diego looked at her, it was the look in Angela’s eyes that made it clear to him, that she knew the truth. Everything he had heard about how great of a detective Angela was, was finally coming to light. He gave her a nod to continue.

“I so happened to stumble upon a photo the press took of you and a woman,” Angela took out her phone, sliding through some photos before she landed on the one she needed. She held up the phone, “A woman who looks similar to Y/N, if I didn’t know any better, I would have thought this was her mother, but from records, it shows that Isabella, Gael’s wife, is y/n’s mother. Not Camilla, your wife who so happened to pass away around the same time y/n was born.” She received a confused expression from Tim, “You see, The only reason why Jesse would want anything to do with y/n is because she isn’t Gael’s daughter but Diegos,” Angela explained. “But it doesn’t explain why Gael took her here to America to start a new life.”

Diego sighed, “My wife, may God rest her soul, she passed when y/n was born and I already was worried about raising a child in such a lifestyle, but leaving was harder than it looked. My brother and his wife had wanted to leave for a while, so, I told them to take y/n and leave for the States. My father got word of this and told him he’d give him his blessing if he killed Jesse’s father,” Diego paused, recalling the day it happened like it was just yesterday. “The only person other than my father and brother who knew of y/n’s existence was my best friend, Jesse.”

“Some best friend you were,” Angela commented, “Why kill his father?”

“For the same reason, every other narco kills another. Territory. My father, although I loved him, he was greedy. He let the money get to his head and he wanted more. With territory came power, he wanted us to show him how we loved him. In a fucked up way, he only asked of this to have someone else do his dirty work for him,” Diego explained. “My brother was to kill Jesse’s father in exchange for ‘Freedom’ but look where that got him.”

“Still doesn’t explain why Jesse wants revenge from you if Gael was the one that killed his father,” Lucy commented.

“Because when it came down to it, my brother couldn’t kill him and I didn’t allow him to. We told my father what he wanted to hear and that’s that.”

“You killed Jesse’s father,” Tim understood. “That’s why he came after y/n, to hurt you in the same way you hurt him.”

Diego nodded, “I loved my daughter and I wanted a better life for her. You gave her that,” He said looking at Tim. “Which is why I am here to help you guys find her, what you do with me after that doesn’t matter. All I want is for her to be safe.”

Tim understood what he meant, the feeling of just wanting his daughter to be safe regardless of what could happen to him. He would do the same in a heartbeat if it meant he could have y/n here safe and sound.

“How can we trust you?” Angela asked.

“You can’t, but then what other option do you guys have?” Diego asked.

Tim sighed, “Do you have any leads on where they might be keeping her?” He ignored the looks he got from Angela and followed Diego over to the board that had all of their leads.

“Do you trust him?” Angela asked Lucy, they both watched Diego and Tim talk off to the side.

“If it means getting back y/n, then I do,” Lucy said.

It’s been over a month. Over a month and y/n had been starved, deprived of water and sleep. She felt like she was going insane as she was held up in a small room with only a mattress on the floor. For over the past hour, she had listened to the muffled voices outside the door, every moment that passed she had hoped to hear some sort of salvation in this pit of hell.

The door opened and the man, whom she knew by the name of Hugo, came in and hastily picked y/n up from her position on the mattress. Her heart quickened as she was led into the main room, which to her looked like an old office.

Before she could muster up the strength to say anything, she heard a voice call out from the end of the room, “She’s the spitting image of her mother,” a man scoffed as he appeared from the shadows.

Hugo places y/n on a chair, before tying her hands behind her, “W-what’s going on?”

The man who had just spoken, grabbed y/n by the chin, inspecting the bruise on her eye, “Who did this?”

“S-Sergio,” Hugo stuttered. “Ya sabes como se enoja,” (you know how he gets angry.

The man took in a deep breath, “I’ll deal with him later.” his attention focused back on y/n, “I always knew you would grow up to look just like Camilla.”

“Who’s Camilla?” Y/n asked.

“Why you’re mother of-” The man smirks, “Of course,” he said in realization, “you still think Isabella and Gael are your actual parents. We have a lot to uncover then.”

Y/n looked at him with a confused expression, was Gael and Isabella, not her parents? They had raised her, she remembered seeing photos of them with her as a baby, even as a newborn. It didn’t make any sense to her.

“You must be wondering, ‘Jesse, what do you mean?’ well, let me explain it to you,” Jesse, the man from the shadows, began to explain, “Your real father is Diego, Gael’s brother, your mother died while giving birth to you and so your father, Diego sent you with his brother to the states. Before he did that, the cowards killed my father. I took revenge when I killed Gael, but upon coming up to recent news, I found out that it wasn’t Gael who killed my father, but Diego. So, here I am out seeking revenge for my father’s death again.”

This all felt too much to unfold, the man who y/n mourned, the one she thought was her father was just her uncle. It didn’t make her feel any less of him, but it made everything… different.

“What are you going to do with me?” y/n asked.

“Have you ever been to a rage room y/n? I hear they’re pretty popular in Los Angeles?” Jesse asked as he walked over to a table that was off to the side, on the table y/n could see tools that ranged from hammers to even a drill.

her eyes widened as the fear crept up within her when she saw Jesse grabbing the hammer. “I’ve always wanted to go to one, let out all the anger I felt since my father’s death. I have let that anger live within me for far too long and I think it’s time to let it out, don’t you think?” Jesse smirked as he glanced over at y/n.

Over the past week, Diego, Tim, Lucy, and Angela had spent most of their time in Lucy’s apartment. Diego calls people one after the other trying to figure out where Jesse could be holding y/n. He felt it was somewhere in Mexico, given that Jesse rarely came to the States unless something went wrong with his shipment. For the most part, it was Diego’s men who searched every lead they had in Mexico, it wasn’t until today that they finally had a breakthrough.

Diego came rushing into the apartment, “I got something!” he yelled, phone in his hand as he rushed over to Tim. Diego hesitated, “I-I don’t know if you should look, it was even hard for me to see this photo.”

Tim prepared himself for what he would see, “Show me.”

“Tim,” Angela warned with concern in her voice.

He shook his head, “No, Angela, I need to see her.”

Diego showed them the photo of y/n. In the photo, she was tied to a chair, she was bruised from head to toe, with blood covering most of her body. Tim held back a sob as he read the sign that was hung around her neck.

‘Esto es para mi papa,’ it read. (This is for my father)

“The window in the back shows the ocean. I know that view from anywhere. It’s where me and Jesse met for the first time, where our friendship began and ended,” Diego explained. “I can get you on a plane there tonight.”

“No, if this is where she is at, we have to do this the right way,” Angela began. “The LAPD-”

“The LAPD doesn’t have jurisdiction in Mexico, if anything you would have to call the feds and you know the feds wouldn’t care about a little girl that is kidnapped unless there is a big bust for them.”

Tim sighed, “he’s right.”

“So we just join him to Mexico?” Angela asks.

“We take matters into our own hands like we did to save you.”

Angela thought about it for a moment, she knew what they were doing was risky, but it was a risk Tim was willing to take to get his daughter back. A risk they made to get Angela back when she was kidnapped not too long ago too.

“Alright,” Angela said.

It wasn’t long until they were on the plane to Mexico City where Diego said the old office was. Tim and Angela mentally prepared themselves for what was about to happen, one they didn’t know if they could trust the people they were with, and second, they didn’t know what kind of condition y/n would be in.

Lucy wanted to join them but decided to stay back just in case. She was in constant communication with Tim just in case something were to happen.

“We’re almost there,” Diego announces as he comes back from the cockpit area and takes a seat on one of the chairs. “My men are ready to meet us at the landing zone, we will head straight to the building when we land,” he began to explain. “I’ll have a paramedic waiting nearby to take care of any injuries on y/n.”

“You can pull those kind of strings?” Tim asked.

“With the right kind of money, yes,” Diego smirked.

Angela scoffed, “I have a question for you,” Diego nodded for her to continue, “Why let Gael take y/n? Why not live a life outside of this business with your daughter?”

Diego sighed, placing the glass of alcohol back down on the small table in front of him, “Because my brother and his wife could give her something I never could have.”

“What’s that?” Tim asked.

“Family.”

“I disagree, I think you don’t need a mom and a dad to be a family. It’s ideal, but look at where she’s at now, no offense, Tim,” Angela said.

Diego nodded in agreement, “Alright, you caught me.” He took a swig of his drink before placing the now-empty glass back down, “The first week was the hardest,” Diego admitted. “Then as she began to grow, I just couldn’t do it. She reminded me so much of Camilla… It hurt to even look at her. Gael and Isabella couldn’t have kids and the way they always loved her as her own, I just felt like they would have given her the love I couldn’t give her.”

Tears began to form in his eyes, “and I was right. I was told Gael and Isabella died trying to protect y/n. They made sure she was hidden so she wouldn’t be” Diego choked on his words, “I don’t regret the decision I made, I just regret that I couldn’t save them.”

“Patron, Hemos aterrizado, ” (Boss, we’ve landed) One of the flight attendants said to Diego, quickly walking back over to the flight attendant station in the front of the plane.

“That’s our ten-minute mark,” Angela commented.

Tim felt his heartbeat quicken, anxious to get out of this plane and find y/n. He felt every minute that went by was a minute too long, a minute too late.

Y/n cried out in pain as Jesse backed away, he shook his hand, wincing in pain.

“Ah, don’t worry, little y/n. Soon enough you won’t be feeling any more pain,” Jesse winked as he walked back over to the table. For the past week since Jesse had made an appearance, it had been constant torture for y/n. The only break she had was when Jesse left to go eat or sleep, otherwise he found entertainment in torturing her with different techniques.

“P-Please,” y/n begged.

He jammed a knife into the table, he let out an annoyed groan before grabbing a piece of cloth that was nearby. Walking over to y/n, Jesse jammed the cloth into her mouth and then tied it on the back of her head.

“That’s better,” he smiled, walking back over to the table. He grabs the knife again and walks over to y/n, “Cuando yo estaba mas joven,” Jesse began to say, “when I was about your age actually, the girls used to grab a knife and make these marks on their skin,” he traced the knife along Y/n’s wrists, “Ahh, just like these,” he says as he traces the white lines that were scattered along y/n’s wrists. Scars that told of a past of darkness that she once battled.

“Let’s have some fun,” he winked, letting the knife sink into y/n’s skin along her abdomen, she screamed into the piece of cloth that was in her mouth. Jesse let go of the knife, leaving it in her abdomen, walking back over to the table, and grabbing a large bowl of water.

Jesse walked back over to Y/n, she frantically shook her head, knowing exactly what he was thinking. He smirks as he dunks her head in the bowl, leaving it there for a minute before letting her back up for air.

Y/n tried her best to hold her breath, but with her mouth being gagged she found it more difficult than the last time. She hoped he was done for the night, that any moment he would walk out of that room.

“Can’t forget about this,” Jesse comments as he takes the knife out of y/n’s abdomen causing a rush of blood to ooze out.

The door abruptly opens, “We’ve got a problem,” Hugo says with urgency.

“Can’t you handle it?” Jesse says through gritted teeth.

Hugo shakes his head, “It’s Diego, he’s here and he has company.”

Jesse groans in frustration, walking over to the table to drop off the bowl and knife. He sees a piece of rope, it is now or never, and he grabs it.

Tim followed one of Diego’s men through the building, searching room by room for y/n. He was surprised by the small amount of guards that were within the building so far, it could only mean that the main floor would have more.

Jose, the man who was taking the lead, led them to the final and top floor. Tim could hear a couple of shots before he heard people grunting, “She’s in here!” Jose yells out. Tim looked back at Angela who nodded for him to go as she walked over to one of Diego’s men who had one of Jesse’s men on the ground.

Tim quickly rushed into the room Jose had called out from, he scanned the room, seeing Jose with Jesse on the ground. Then his eyes darted to the small figure on the chair, “Y/N!” He calls out as he runs over to her, quickly untying her hands. Y/n slumps over in her seat, Tim is quick to lean her body against him, helping her onto the floor.

“Hon, it’s me,” he says, not getting a response from y/n. “Come on, baby girl, you gotta wake up for me,” the tears began to form in his eyes, he felt for a pulse, it was weak but it was there. He looks over at Jesse, “What did you do?!”

Jesse smirks, his eyes darting over to the door. Tim looks behind him to see Diego at the door, “Ojo por ojo.” (an eye for an eye)

Diego felt the anger rise within him, he felt like he was on autopilot as he pulled the gun out from his back holster, pointing it at Jesse without hesitation, he pulled the trigger.

“Now we’re even,” Diego mutters. He pulls his attention back over to Y/n and Tim, quickly noticing the pull of blood forming before them, “she’s bleeding,” he quickly takes off his coat, handing it to Tim.

Tim presses the coat on the stab wound, “we need to get her to the paramedic,” Diego says. Tim picks Y/n up, following Diego down the flight of stairs and outside to the paramedics. Tim got into the ambulance with Y/n, he held her hand throughout the whole ride.

He couldn’t help but notice the condition her body was in, the scars on her body, the bruises, and the mark that was red around her neck. If they had been a second late, she probably would’ve been gone. No, Tim couldn’t think that way. She’s safe now, she’s alive and she’s with him.

Tim stayed by y/n’s side every single day at the hospital. It had been a couple of days and she had yet to wake up, the doctors said it was due to her injuries, but Tim was worried it could be something worse. Eventually, they were given the okay to transfer back to the States.

To Tim’s surprise, Diego never made an appearance at the hospital in Mexico City. He kept his promise, he helped them find y/n, and to Tim, that was all that mattered.

Once they were back in the States, Tim couldn’t find the courage to leave y/ns bedside still. He continued to wait for her to wake up, the doctors told him to give her body time to recover but just wanted to hear her voice. He wanted her to know that he was sorry.

“Wake up,” Tim whispered as he gently placed his hand on the side of y/n’s face, “You need to wake up, hon.”

Tim felt his eyes getting the best of him, he let out a deep sigh as he laid back in his chair. Lettin sleep overcome him.

It was only an hour after Tim had fallen asleep that y/n began to wake up, the lights from the room blinded her as she opened her eyes, an instant headache. y/n groaned, wincing from the brightness, “Dad?” she called out.

Tim thought it was odd that the elephant in his dream was calling him dad, slowly he was driven out of his dreams and jumped up. He frantically looked around, “Dad?” he heard y/n say.

“Oh my god, you’re awake!” Tim announced, getting up from his seat and running out to the hall, “she’s awake!” he announced to one of the nurses, and they both rushed back into the room together.

The nurse quickly checked y/n’s vitals and her stitches, “We’ll have to do some more testing, but from what I can tell, you’ll be making a full recovery,” she announced with a smile. “I’ll be back to check on you in an hour, let me know if you need anything,” she smiles as she walks out of the room.

Tim pulls you in for a hug, careful not to hurt her further, “you’re awake,” he breathed out.

y/n let out a relieved breath, holding onto Tim as tight as she could. y/n felt tears brimming her eyes as a sob escaped her lips. Tim rubbed small circles on her back, “I-I thought I was never gonna see you again,” she sobs.

Tim places a small kiss on the top of her forehead, “You’re safe now,” he says as he lies on the bed with y/n, never letting go of her hug. “That’s all that matters to me right now.”

“How did you find me?”

“We had some help,” Tim explains.

“Was it from Diego?” Tim looked at her with a surprised expression, “Jesse told me everything, he knew Diego was on his trail.”

“Diego mentioned that,” Tim sighed, “How do you feel?”

“Like I’m probably gonna need therapy for the rest of my life,” she comments, letting out a small chuckle.

Tim couldn’t help but chuckle, “I’ll get you the best therapist there is, I’ll even get you a thousand stuffed animals if that makes you feel better for a thousand minutes. Hell, I’ll even get you another dog, I don’t care, just as I know you are home and you are safe and sound.”

Y/n couldn’t help but smile, but it soon falters, “Do we have to talk about what happened?” she asks.

“Not if you don’t want to, I’ll understand if you want to talk to a therapist instead. What you went through was heavy and…. I’ll understand.”

She nods, Tim watches as her mind wanders off, “I thought I was gonna die,” she begins to say, “and for a moment all I could think about was missing you. Missing our Sunday brunches with Kojo and even missing our softball practices.” She looks at Tim with tears in her eyes, “I was so scared.”

“I should’ve been able to protect you,” Tim whispers. “I’m so sorry, y/n.”

“It’s not your fault,” Y/n says, “I don’t blame you at all for any of it, you’ve always been there. You’ve protected me from the first moment I met you and you have never stopped.”

Tim felt a surge of love and pride within him, he had helped raise a brave young woman whom he was proud to call his daughter.

“I love you,” he says, pressing a gentle kiss on y/n’s forehead, his voice choking with emotion. “You are indeed the strongest person I know and I will always be here for you, no matter what.”

Y/n leaned against his shoulder, and the two of them lay there in silence for a moment before turning the T.V. on. He knew that he was going to need to help her through the tough times ahead, juggling a normal life with school and friends while also dealing with this trauma. Tim knew the next few months were not going to be easy, but he was more than willing to be the rock y/n needed to get through this. It all seemed fine now, but he knew the emotional toll a traumatic event like this could be on a grown adult, but imagine a teenager.

It was a lot to take in and it was going to be a lot of therapy.

For now, all that mattered to Tim was that Y/N was found and she was now safe and sound.

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