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strawberriesandhotmen · 30 days ago

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All Night: Part 1

a/n: Long time no see, babies. Yeah, excuse my complete absence, life was kicking my behind but we’re jumping back in the game, y’all. I have some asks I still need to get to, but decided to provide y’all with a cute little snack in the meantime. Can confirm I’m back in my Jon Bernthal phase so be expecting A LOT from me on that in future fics. Enjoy lovelies 😘

pairing: bestfriend!Mikey Berzatto x fem!reader

CW +18: swearing, allusions to sexual activity (it’s innuendo, y’all will be fine), Mikey being an absolute smokeshow (yes he needs his own warning), mainly just tooth-rotting fluff (there will be spice in part 2 i promise)

word count: 2.8k

Slumped lazily on a wooden bench, you absently watched as your best friend shot hoops on the worn concrete court. He dribbled the ball rhythmically against the pavement, each bounce punctuating your words. You’re venting…again…surprised that he even still listens when you talk. Your boss had screwed up your hours for the fiftieth time, and you were just about to quit. You couldn’t support yourself with the kind of pocket change you were making.

Mikey’s shirt clings to him, sweat dripping down the back of his neck as he dunks the ball with a prideful smirk.

Showoff.

“Your boss is an idiot,” he says matter of factly, grabbing the ball as it rolls away. “You’re the best worker in that shit-hole - no offense - and the last thing you deserve is to be screwed over like that.”

“Mikey,” You begin, deadpan, “You’ve never even stepped foot in my job, how could you know if I’m the best worker?” Mikey remained unfazed by your attempt to sidestep the compliment, and instead preceded his response with another perfect basket.

“Because I know you. No one ever works harder than you.” You snort dismissively, but it doesn’t shake the weight sitting on your chest.

“Yeah, well, tell that to my boss.” You kick at a rock by your foot. “Plus, the guy I’m sleeping with? I saw him at the grocery store yesterday. Completely walked out before I could even say hello.” He barks out a laugh, the kind that makes you feel truly seen, if only for a moment. Mikey always did that, made you feel like the center of his universe when he’s around you. Once again, you shoved down the feelings that had been surfacing for years, reminding yourself of how wrong it is to see your best friend in any light other than that - a friend.

“He walked out?” Mikey echoes, sounding rather disgusted and shaking his head in disbelief. “What a dick.”

Poetic, Mikey.

“Yeah,” you mutter in half-hearted agreement. “And I’ll probably still text him back if he hits me up tonight.”

“Jesus Christ, babe.” Your heart flutters stupidly at the nickname Mikey’s called you since you were teenagers. “You gotta stop letting these idiots run your life, yeah?” You let out a sigh, your head falling back to the brick wall behind the bench.

“I guess I’m just attracted to assholes.” You tried to laugh it off, but the intense need to shift the focus off of you became apparent. “But enough about me. Any girls you’re seeing?”

For a moment, you catch a flicker of something in Mikey’s eyes, a hint of vulnerability before it’s quickly shielded with that easy smirk of his. He shoots another basket.

“Nah,” he shrugs. “Haven’t really had the time” Before you could call bullshit, a ping from your phone interrupted you. Looking down, you let out a groan as the number registered in your brain.

“Oh God, Mikey.” Your complaint made him drop the ball, turning towards you. “He just texted.” Mikey shakes his head, his expression a mix of amusement and disbelief.

“Seriously? Mr. Groceries?” He walks over to the bench, plopping down beside you and draping his arm behind your shoulders. His proximity has always had this way of making your heartrate pick up, but you play it cool, ignoring the heat radiating off his skin.

“What’d he say? Tryin’ to charm you with a coupon from Kroger?” That earned a giggle out of you, the kind that made him puff his chest just enough for you to notice. He loved making you laugh.

“Not quite so beneficial, unfortunately.” You huffed, looking up at Mikey as you tilted the phone towards him. He rolled his eyes as he read the text: ‘Hey sweetheart, been missin’ that pretty little body all weekend.’

“Christ,” He muttered. “He’s an even bigger tool than I thought.” After scratching the back of his neck, looking off towards the chain link fence surrounding the court, he held out his hand. “Let me write a reply.” I narrowed my eyes momentarily before relinquishing the phone to him.

“Don’t you send shit before I see it.” Mikey rolls his eyes but grins mischievously, typing away on your phone.

“Relax, control freak.” He hands the phone back to you, the smirk on his face growing even wider as you read the text he’s typed it out.

‘Thanks, but no thanks, Coupon King. I found someone more worth my time.”

He leans over, his hand resting on your shoulder as he watches your face, clearly enjoying this way too much.

“You’re hilarious, Mikey.” You rolled your eyes, deleting the text and setting your phone face down beside you. No more texting privileges for him.

Toddler.

Mikey just laughs, his hand giving your shoulder a gentle squeeze.

“Oh, come on. It’s perfect,” he argues, brown eyes twinkling with mischief. “You gotta let him know you’re not some booty call. You deserve better.”

“I don’t know, Mikey.” You reply hesitantly, biting your lip in thought. “I’ve just been so pent up, I need to let off some steam and Coupon King, as you’ve so endearingly named him, is the easiest way I’ve found to do that.”

“Let off some steam, huh?” He murmurs, his thumb rubbing absent circles into your upper arm. The air is suddenly charged with something you can’t quite name. “You know, there’s more… constructive ways to do that than dickin’ around with that ass-wipe.”

“I’m sure, but it’s hard to find a good hook-up these days. At least this guy isn’t a hundred years old and/or a serial killer.” Your words could have been a joke, but unfortunately for your love life, they weren’t. Desperate times call for desperate measures, after all. Mikey’s eyes narrow at that, a hint of something unreadable flashing in his gaze.

“And how do you know that?” he counters, his hand dropping behind you to your waist. His touch, which usually feels so safe, suddenly ignites a different kind of fire. You roll your eyes to shield your nervousness, shifting subtly in your seat.

“Why, you got someone better in mind?” Mikey's smirk morphs into a full-blown grin, his hand now shamelessly resting way lower around you than it should.

“Maybe I do,” he says, his voice low and smooth. His gaze doesn’t waver from yours, and you feel heat creeping onto your cheeks under his scrutiny. You’re hyper-aware of the closeness between you, the scent of his sweat and something faintly woody that’s uniquely him.

And then, it hits you, his idea. At least, you think it does.

“Oh my God, Mikey. I am NOT sleeping with Richie.” Mikey nearly chokes on his own spit, his hand flying away from your waist, leaving behind a trail of goosebumps.

“Jesus Christ,” he sputters, narrowly regaining his composure. “Who said anything about Richie?” You narrow your eyes, shaking your head in disappointment.

“That's your idea, right? Shit, I love the man, but I am not letting him anywhere near my bare hoo-haa.” Mikey’s laughter is explosive, a mix of shock and genuine amusement.

“Hell no!” He exclaims, wiping tears from his eyes. “Richie’s like a brother to you, I know. Besides,” he adds, his gaze sharpening, “I’d kill a man before I’d let Richie touch you.” You let out a small chuckle at his resolute statement.

“Well, who were you going to suggest, then?” Mikey leans back, casually draping his arm over your shoulders again and pulling you closer. He looks almost too proud of himself as he responds.

“Me, obviously.” You allowed myself a brief moment of shock before snapping yourself back to reality, convinced he must be joking.

“Be serious, Mikey. I’m not kidding around.” Mikey's smile fades just barely, total sincerity replacing the usual mischief.

“I am being serious,” he says, his thumb brushing lightly against your cheek. “Who better than me, right? I know you, I get you. And I… I want you.”

“W-what?” You sputter ineloquently, shooting to your feet. “You and m- me and y- you can't be...huh?” Mikey loses the chance to mock your stutters, his eyes never leaving yours as he slowly rises to his feet. He steps closer, his body almost - but not quite - touching yours.

“Why not?” He challenges, his voice soft but determined. “Why can't it be me, huh? We're great together. We make each other laugh. I’ve always got your back, and you’ve got mine. And well, I care about you, babe. A lot.” At a loss for any other words, you breathe out deeply, looking back at him with glossy eyes.

“You’re my best friend.” Your words come out quiet, tortured, conflicted, like you’re not so sure of them yourself. Mikey just chuckles, shaking his head in disbelief.

“Yeah, and? You say that like it's a bad thing.” He takes another step closer, closing the gap between you until you can feel the heat radiating off his body. “Being your best friend means I know every little thing about you. Every dream, every secret, every fucking quirk. And I like all of it. I want all of it.”

“Want?” You echo, as if in total disbelief. It wasn’t fishing for compliments, it wasn’t self-deprecation, it was curiosity. Intrigue into how in the world someone like Mikey could possibly want you, the best friend, the buddy. Mikey’s eyes soften as he reaches up and tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. His touch is tender, his gaze fiercely earnest.

“Yeah,” he whispers, his breath warm against your skin. “I want you, babe. All of you. I’m tired of pretending it doesn’t kill me when you’re with someone else. I’m tired of biting my tongue when you talk about guys who don’t deserve you. I’m just…tired of watching you from the sidelines.” A heavy breath escapes, almost sounding of relief.

God, how long you had waited to hear those words from his lips.

How long you had waited to see those pretty brown eyes look at you how they were now.

How long you had waited for him to want you.

Mikey wraps his arms around you, pulling you into an embrace that feels like safety and thrill all at once. He rests his chin on top of your head, his breath warm against your hair.

“You have no idea how hard it is to watch you with these other guys,” he mutters, his hands starting to gently roam over your back, tracing the contours of your body. “To see them touch you, to make you laugh... It drives me nuts.”

“How nuts?” You venture hesitantly, knowing you’re pushing your luck. Mikey can’t fight back the amused smile that pulls at his lips at your question, his lips ghosting over the shell of your ear.

“Too nuts.” You weren’t exactly sure what he meant, but it wasn’t hard to guess. It wasn’t like you cared anyway, not with the way his big hands encircled your waist, or with the way his body was pressed against yours.

And you definitely didn’t care when he leaned in and kissed the side of your neck, softly at first, then with more force, biting down gently before soothing the spot with his tongue. You felt your knees buckle at the sheer intensity of the gesture, and Mikey laughs, a low, knowing sound.

“There she is,” he says, pulling back just slightly. “That little shiver, I always know when I’ve got you right where I want you.” He takes a deep breath before continuing, almost like he wasn’t sure he wanted to say what he was thinking. “But the thing is, sweetheart,” he whispers, his lips ghosting over your skin, “I’ve always been right where you want me.” The parallels in his words spark a pang deep in your chest, breaking your heart to pieces. If only he had known how much you thought of him, how long you thought of him, how badly you wanted him.

If only, right?

You can’t help but shudder under his touch, your body reacting to him in a way it never has before. There’s something about this, about him, that makes you feel raw and vulnerable and so damn alive.

“Mikey,” you manage to gasp out, your heart pounding in your chest as your senses start to overwhelm you. “I-I can’t-” Mikey pulls back just enough to look at you, his debilitating eyes burning with intense desire. He cups your face in his hands, his thumb tracing your bottom lip, his gaze never wavering.

“Yes, you can,” he says, his voice deep and sure. “You can let go, sweetheart. Let me take care of you.” And with that, he captures your lips in a kiss that’s both tender and demanding. It’s like the floodgates have opened, years of pent-up desire finally breaking free. You grip his shoulders, pulling him closer, your nails digging into his skin. He nips at your lip, his tongue slipping into your mouth as he tastes you for the first time. He stops you from chasing his lips when he pulls away, only for a moment, only to whisper one thing.

“Let me love you.”

The second kiss is different from the first, deeper, more passionate, more telling. It contains everything you’ve already said, and countless more things you haven’t. His hands slide under your thighs as he lifts you, pinning you against the nearest brick wall. You wrap your legs around him reflexively, your hips pressed to his as the kiss deepens, turning desperate.

The moment is shattered as some teenager groans outside the chain link fence, “Get a room!” You both giggle at the cliche interruption, burying your head in his chest. Mikey grins that cocky, infuriating grin you love and hate, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead.

“Hear that, sweetheart?” he says, his fingers digging into your thighs just enough to make you shiver. “We’ve gotta get a room.” The last part is whispered, low and promising, goosebumps raising on your arms.

God, this man would be the death of you.

He starts to walk, with no hitch in his step despite still cradling you in his arms. After he steps outside the fence surrounding the court, you realize he’s carrying you to his car.

Perfect.

He reaches his car, placing you gently on the hood. With one hand on either side of you, he cages you in, his gaze roving over your body like he's starving.

“This thing we're about to do,” he says, his voice low and rough, “it changes everything. You know that right?” You take a deep, slightly shaky breath, your nails raking through his short beard.

“I know.” Mikey's eyes darken at your touch, his body pressing closer, his hands shifting from the car to your hips.

“Good,” he says, the word more of a growl than anything else. His gaze roams over your face during the beat of silence, lingering tellingly on your lips. “Because there's no going back now.”

“And you’re okay with that?” You asked. “This is what you want? No more best friend?” Mikey's gaze softens for a moment, sincerity taking over the desire in his eyes.

“Sweetheart,” he begins, his voice a rough whisper, “I stopped seeing you as just my best friend a long time ago. I want everything with you. The fights, the make-ups, the inside jokes and the late-night calls. I want to be the only one who gets to kiss you, touch you, make you laugh.” He pauses, inhaling deeply.

“I want to be the only one who gets to call you mine.”

Your breath catches as his grip on your hips turns possessive, as if the mere thought of anyone touching you but him was entirely unacceptable.

“Just so you know,” you begin with a grin, “You’re already better than Mr. Groceries.” An amused scoff escapes Mikey's lips, his chest puffing out just slightly.

“Damn right I'm better, babe.” He mutters, his hands moving to your thighs again, his thumbs tracing lazy circles against your skin. “And I plan on proving it. Repeatedly.”

“Repeatedly, huh?” You giggled at the implications, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Marathon style?” You smirked as he shifted his weight, veiling his flustered state with a clearing of his throat.

Cutie.

“Oh, baby, I could go all night if you let me.”

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