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iovesia · 4 months

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𐚁֙࿐ MEET THE WICKS.

keanu mlist.⠀ 𑇓 ⊹ ᳝ ࣪ ⠀boyfriend's dad!john wick⠀𝑥⠀f!reader.

synopsis. fucking your boyfriend's dad was surely one way to leave a good first impression.

contents. cheating all around. everyone sucks here. ooc!john. large age gap (20s/40s). non-john wick universe au. outdoor sex. size difference. tummy bulge. 4.4k words.

⋆ 𓂃 ﾟ .⠀josie's little note: hello hello ! a happy new years to you guys, and here's a gift! i haven't been terribly active lately, i know— so hopefully this makes up for it ♡ haven't written a proper fic in ages so i kinda of hate this ://

“MY PARENTS ARE GONNA LOVE YOU.”

You side eye your boyfriend at his reassuring smile, his hand on the wheel as the two of you drive further up the mountain to his parent’s home. You finally worked up the courage to meet your boyfriend, Michael’s parents. Having procrastinated this moment for almost two years, Michael finally wore you down to saying yes.

The rows of thick, dark trees trapped the two of you on this thin road up the mountains. Pearly white snowflakes float gently down on your window, your chilled breath creating a small fog as you reach to turn the heat up in the vehicle.

“Your parents are gonna think you fell and hit your head,” you roll your eyes.

“Oh c’mon!” Michael tuts, letting out a little huff. His eyes focused heavily on the road ahead, turning the wheel as the car took a left. “You’re way too hard on yourself.”

Truth be told you could’ve gone your whole life without meeting his parents. The prestiges Wicks. Michael was not the son of any run of the mill family, but rather the son of two CEOs of the largest cybersecurity companies in the world, while all your achievements were golden-sticker-on-a-piece-of-homework level at best.

“Says the kid of billionaires,” you say dismissively.

“Millionaires,” he corrects cheekily, earning a playful punch to the arm. “Baby, you gotta relax.. I love you, so by default my parents will love you too— or at least be nice enough to pretend.”

“Not funny, Michael,” your little whines turn into a soft laugh as your boyfriend chuckles. The two of you continue the drive up to Michael’s parents home. You two engage in nonchalant conversation that was periodically interrupted by a series of texts. Occasionally glancing over to Michael’s phone, you see the name “Maggie” popping up.

The hairs on your neck stand up, and your palms sweat onto the leather seat, but Michael’s soft smile reassures you .. a little.

Hours go by before he finally pulls up to the home and your jaw drops. Your eyes meet the sight of the gorgeous villa, decked with greystone walls with a light wooden trim. A small cobblestone bridge that goes over the infinity pool, leading to the large front door with crystal clear windows. This isolated winter wonderland of a villa (that Michael downplayed heavily— the ever humble man he is) was to be your home for Christmas.

“Michael! This place is—”

“Smaller than the one in Italy, but my mother wanted something cozy.”

Your eye twitches a little at how dismissively he talks about this house. His nonchalant demeanour as he parks his car in the driveway of a home you’d never even be able to afford a fraction of. You simply nod, then unbuckle your seatbelt.

Ping.

You glance down at Michael’s hand, which quickly flips the phone face down.

“Pretty popular, huh?” You joke half-heartedly, trying to probe a reaction. Michael smiles at you, shrugging his shoulders. Noticing his shoulders tense up, you try to ignore the pit in your stomach. The two of you get out of the car and unload your suitcases.

Each step across the small bridge and to the front door felt in slow motion, your heartbeat thumping your ears.

“You’re gonna be fine, baby,” Michael reassures, before ringing the doorbell.

Beat.

Click.

The heavy slategray door glides open slowly, and your fake smile plasters on at the sight of Michaels’ parents. Helen Wick, a graceful woman in her late 30’s. Her flat ironed brunette hair hugged her soft face, and her smile accentuated the faint laugh lines.

On the other hand, her husband John, the older of the pair, stood stoically. His black hair, and black eyes matched with his simple black slacks and button up protruded his muscles. His dark aura almost sucked the light out the area as he stood tall next to his happy wife. Helen’s hazel eyes meet yours as she hides her surprise with a plastic grin.

“Oh Mikey… she’s beautiful!” Helen exclaims, her voice a little pitched.

Michael nudges your shoulder as Helen wraps her arms around you, giving you a stiff hug. You could smell the expensive Chanel No 5 from her neck, and the Michael Kors blouse was silk and soft against your hands as you hugged her back. Mr. Wick, remaining unimpressed as ever, simply watched the interaction unfold.

This was gonna be a long Christmas.

Dinner was painfully awkward. The scratching of gold silverware on the rare china plates filled the air. Inside their villa was just as impressive as the out. The warm lights of the christmas decor and the glorious christmas tree illuminated the luxurious dining room. You rest your elbow on their mahogany table, calmly taking a bite of your roasted turkey.

“Elbows, dear,” Helen hums from across from you, her tone almost motherly. Glancing down at your elbow, you flush embarrassed as you lean back against your chair. Michael sips his wine next to you, sighing at his mother’s uptight behaviour.

John seems to be the quietest of them all, although you can feel his intense stare from across the table. The older man intimidates you to no-end, and some part of you is desperate to earn some form of approval from him. You always liked a challenge.

“So..” Helen breaks the silence again, clearing her throat. The light shines on her expensive bracelets and rings that adorn her hand as she sets her fork and knife down. “Tell us how you met our Michael.”

Michael and you share a glance, and he subtly urges you to speak. You smile softly, sipping your liquid courage before speaking. “We met at the diner I work at. Michael was always a regular, and refused to let anyone but me serve him,” You giggle at the memory, and Michael blushes.

“You’re a waitress?” John chimes in. You swallow at how low and husk his voice was, and you finally meet his dark orbs piercing into you. Like a little ant under a magnifying glass; his simple question felt like a heavy exam, and you were determined to pass.

“Yes.. It’s called Daisy’s Diner on Victory Boulevard” You furrow your brows, a little confused. “Didn’t Michael tell you..?”

“He led us to believe you owned a diner.. Not working in one..” John hums, seemingly returning to his unaffected attitude. Your lips are slightly parted in surprise, and heat rushes to your cheeks as you side eye Michael. He avoids your gaze, focusing down at his plate.

“You told them I owned a food chain?” You huff, annoyance dripping in your voice. The dinner lasted for what seemed forever before the sun finally set and each couple retreated to their respective bedrooms. “Michael, what the hell?”

“It’s not a big deal,” Michael rolls his eyes, fluffing up one of the pillows. He rubs his eyes tiredly, and you can tell he’s getting agitated. “It’s fine— they didn’t mind.”

“Oh really?” You scoff, putting your silk pyjamas shorts on. “He led us to believe you owned a diner.. Not working in one..” you mock John’s voice, making your own deep and nasally.

“My dad does not sound like a nasally Christopher Walken, but okay,” Michael snorts at your impersonation. You toss a pillow at him, hitting his chest.

“Not the point, Michael! You were supposed to be on my side, you just fed me to the wolves!”

“Grow up— you had an awkward conversation with my parents, it wasn’t the end of the world!”

“The whole point of this weekend was to get them to like me! You just sat there cutting your turkey into a million pieces!” The air in the room was thick with tension, the two of your moods souring as your voices raise. You wished your boyfriend had a spine, and he wished you didn’t have one. Letting out another huff, you grab your toiletries purse and head to leave the bedroom to go brush your teeth.

The brightly lit home was now dark and empty, aside from the moonlight shining in through the bright windows. You glance out, and see the snow top mountains faded behind a thick fog as you walk down the hall; feet padding softly on the cold wood.

When you finished in the bathroom, you were hardly paying attention as you opened the door, eyes half shut. Your face instantly pummels into something hard, making your eyes blink rapidly. A quiet hmph can be heard above you, and your eyes dart up to meet John’s. He stood there blankly, wearing nothing but his briefs.

Your face flushed with utter humiliation and you turned your head away. “Sorry— um— I didn’t see you—”

“Wrong bathroom.”

“Huh?” You raise a brow.

“You’re in my wife and I’s bathroom,” He repeats slowly, his tone slightly condescending. His chest rises as he takes a breath, and you can help but watch each muscle that twitches; feeling your throat go dry. You get lost in analysing the tattoos on his arms and shoulders that were so well hidden by his button up.

“Oh..” you clear your throat, snapping out of it. “Sorry.. Michael told me this was the guest one..”

“Michael tells you a lot of things that are not true it seems,” John hums, a curious look on his face.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

No reply.

John simply shrugs, and shifts to the side, allowing you to pass him and you can’t help but take a peek at his toned back. For an older man, he seemed to take care of his body well. His defined muscles, covered in ink of religious tattoos and Latin proverbs, intrigued you to find out more.

“It’s rude to stare,” his deep voice is in a low whisper as he shuts the bathroom door behind him, not even glancing back at you. Embarrassed and fascinated, you hurry back to yours and Michael’s room where you find him already asleep, his mouth open wide as he snores. His typically irritating habits of snoring loudly and taking up space seemed to be the least of your concerns as your mind is flooded with images of his father.

His father’s voice.. His father’s tattoos.. His father’s v-line that disappeared under his briefs..

You were too distracted to even notice Maggie had texted again.

The following days leading up to Christmas were suffocating to say the least. Unless Helen was there to kindly offer comedic relief or keep John occupied— it was as though you were constantly invigilated. Any anecdotes you told, the way you skied when the four of you went, how much or how little PDA you showed Michael: it was one big test, and you were failing, hard.

You had no clue why you were desperate to please Michael’s father. Helen was easy enough to win over.. Perhaps it’s just the masochist in you, but his condescending words began to make you bashful, rather than embarrassed.

Michael’s been aware of your strange behaviour but can’t seem to put his finger on it. Worst part was you knew why he was suspicious— he was projecting. It seemed this trip to get you closer with his parents, ended up straining your own.

“She’s a co-worker— fuck— I can’t keep explaining this to you!” Michael snaps defensively.

“Lower your voice— your parents are right there!” You hiss. The two of you stand outside on the back patio of the villa. Flames from the fireplace crackle, leaving an orange hue on both your faces. The sound of soft wind and smell of dinner oozing from the inside almost created a romantic atmosphere.

Had it not been for Maggie.

“What kind of co-worker texts you on PTO?” You whisper shout. Michael groans, rubbing his eyes as he turns away from you. “She’s been texting you everyday since this trip and it’s not the first time.”

“I’m busy— I work a lot. It’s probably about a project,” your boyfriend replies, almost being unconvincing on purpose. “You’re so goddamn nosy.”

“Nosy? I’m here meeting your parents and you’re probably sexting some random girl right now.”

“She’s not some random fucking girl.”

Your face drops. Your brows furrow together, the anger fading into a gentle hurt. The silence is deafening, and there’s zero remorse in Michael’s eyes for what he’s saying. A stunning realisation sets in that this Maggie is no longer just a notification you notice on his screen— but an actual person who Michael might harbour actual feelings for.

“Michael?” You ask quietly. "Who is she?"

Michael runs his hand through his hair, lips pursed as a sharp sigh escapes. His head hands low, rubbing the bridge of his nose. Agitation fills his figure to the brim, and another pregnant pause occurs. You pinch your thumbnail into your palm, anxiously waiting for his next word.

It never comes.

Michael just mutters to himself as he walks off the patio back inside, sliding the glass door shut loudly. You stand there in the cold, desolate quiet. A thousand thoughts running through your head, but your body stood still— unmoving. What felt like minutes, was hours as the lights inside the villa eventually turned off.

You sat on one of the lounge chairs in a small ball, knees to your chest and your stare fixated on the flames flickering. The ember fire warms your body, but can’t reach your frozen heart. For a strange reason.. Your eyes were dry, your lips weren’t trembling. Rather than a wave of sadness or betrayal— there’s a black hole, numbing you from the inside out.

“(Y/N)?”

Turning your head to the side, you hear the glass door slide open and a tall silhouette emerges from the darkened villa. The moonlight glowed on his face, his black t-shirt and pyjamas sweats only accentuating his pale figure.

“Hello.. Mr. Wick,” You clear your throat, pulling your knees closer to your chest. His faint footsteps become louder as he walks over to you, his looming shadow dimming the fireplace for a second before sitting next to you.

Here he was. The man who shamelessly steered clear of you like water and oil. The man who squinted his eyes at every word you said. The man who was now sitting right next to you in the dead of night.. His legs manspreading a little too close for comfort.

Your leg twitches a little, either from pure anxiety or the Vermont air breezing past your almost bare skin. Perhaps a thin Henley shirt and jeans were not the best choice of clothing, you scold yourself.

Occasionally you glance over at the older man, who simply sits hunched over, his elbows resting on his knees with his fingers interlocked with each other. The gold of his wedding ring glowed like a red warning sign. You were surrounding an intimate fireplace inches away from a married man— your boyfriend’s married father.

“So um—”

“You alright?”

He cuts your sentence off as usual.. But there was a sincerity in his question, albeit his blank expression. Your face softens with genuine surprise, and you scratch your arm, adjusting your sitting position.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you lie.

“Fine with the way Michael talks to you?”

Biting the inside of your cheek, you shrug. The lines of appropriate conversation topics began to blur, and you worry that trash-talking your boyfriend to his father was definitely crossing something.

“I apologise for his behaviour.” This dude’s a fucking paradox.

“What?”

“Helen and I never raised Michael to raise his voice at a woman, let alone curse at you. And for that I apologise,” John repeats blankly. His amiable words were dampened by his impassive body language and tone.

Was he serious? Was it sarcasm? Was it a test for your reaction?

“Thank you” was your safe option, and he nods at your reply, still not even looking your way. Your leg continues twitching anxiously— and this he notices.

“Cold?” John asks.

“What?”

“Your leg.”

Like an obedient pet, you stop your twitching immediately. You hug yourself a bit, leaning back against the lounge couch, trying to create some distance. John mimics your movements, letting out a soft sigh as he does so. As he rolls his shoulders back— a soft crack hissing— his left arm lifts and reaches back, wrapping around your shoulders.

Eyes widened. Heart beating. Throat dry.

This was definitely crossing the line.

“Mr. Wick—”

“John.”

Chewing your bottom lip anxiously, you shift in your seat again, but his arm remains firm around your shoulders, gently pulling you against his side.

“John..” the name feels foreign on your tongue. “What are you doing?”

“You can do better than Michael.”

His words almost make you chuckle— if it wasn’t for your chest tightening. Your brows snap together as you look at him, full of confusion. The entire week you spent trying to impress, and show you were good enough for Michael son— only to be met with such.. Praise? Could you even call it that?

“You’re kidding, right?”

“You don’t think so?”

“Well..” you pause, repeating the phrase in your head over and over. “You spent this past week completely tearing me down, and mocking me.. Where’s all this coming from now?” Tenacity laced in your voice, and for the first time, John’s pink lips pull into a small smile.

“So just because I’m not explicitly praising your every movement means I’m tearing you down? Are you truly that desperate for me to approve of you?” John licks his teeth, a rare chuckle leaving his mouth. Heat rushes to your face at his taunt.

“I don’t need your approval..” you weakly defend. John tilts his head slightly, his dark eyes surveying you before leaning back. You’re almost disappointed at his retrieval of his arm, letting your warm skin cool down.

“You have it.”

If you jaw wasn’t dropped already, it was on the floor by now.

“You’re nice girl, and you're humble. A diner is hard, honest work. I wasn’t born the boss— everyone has to start somewhere, and I respect that.”

“So why act so.. disappointed?” You stammer, eyes blinking rapidly.

“I was disappointed my son had the balls to lie to me,” John clears his throat. “Lied about where you work, when you met.. He was born with a golden spoon in his mouth, of course he doesn’t respect you.”

He doesn’t respect you.

“... He loves me,” you whisper, almost in denial. But deep down in your frozen heart, you knew the truth. All the arguments, the dismissive tone, the hiding were physical proof right in front of your nose.

“That’s not the same thing,” John hums. “He’s cursing you out at his parent’s home— my home— I can only imagine what else he must be doing.”

You don’t know the half of it, is what you wanted to say. But for the sake of not burning bridges, you kept your lips shut. Suddenly, the pad’s of John's finger brush a strand of hair from your face. His touch was electric. Warm. Intoxicating. Merely a bristle of his touch made your chest tighten.

"Michael was right about one thing.. You are beautiful.”

Before you could come to your senses, your soft lips were enraptured with eyes. He swallows your little squeal of surprise, and your back meets the arm of the couch. A ringing echoes in your ear, like a bomb going off. Your boyfriend’s father.. had just made a move on you.

And you like it.

His tongue slips past your lips, meeting yours. You feel his warm big hand cupping at your hip, the other slipping under your thigh to lay you down better on the couch. His taller frame was much bigger now that it hovered over you, keeping you firmly pinned.

“J-John— stop— we can’t!” You manage to pull your face to the side, your lips leaving his. “Your wife— and my boyfriend— your son are right upstairs! Their rooms are right—”

“So you better be quiet then.”

His firm tone sends shivers down your spine, and you were once again suffocated with his lips. The sound of your jeans unbuttoning hits your ears and you realise there’s no turning back. Your mind flashes with moments of this week where you ogled his body.

No longer were your dreams of his tough hands, his manly shoulders or deep voice just a distant fantasy.. but now a reality. You let out a sharp gasp, when you feel pressure on your nub. His sneaky fingers managed their way under your thin panties. His painstakingly slow circles had you squirming like a puppy.

John chuckles at your needy little whines, looking down at your face and watching as it twists into growing pleasure. Ignoring the cold mountain wind, the two of you are quick to shred your pants, drinking in the absolute tabooness of the situation.

Your nails dig into couch pillows, your leg resting over his shoulder. John hisses softly, his large tip barely kissing your entrance. Your eyes trail away from his gorgeous face up to the open window on the second floor. The lights were off, and a small pit of guilt filled your stomach. But soon to be filled with something else, when John suddenly leans in, letting his tip slide past your folds.

“Fuck—” You bite your lip hard. A baritone chuckle echoes through the empty patio and he continues to slowly slide in, stretching your tiny hole out to the brim. The wind promptly knocked out your lungs as your eyes almost rolled back.

“Look at you.. taking it all in like a good little girl,” John taunts but it only makes you throb, clenching tight around him. You blink rapidly trying to focus, but his mocking coos only fluster you more. “Oh.. someone’s enjoying this.. You like when I praise you, don’t you?”

His hips begin at a gradual pace, and you slap your hand over your mouth, desperately trying to swallow your moans and whimpers. John’s longish black hair was covering most of his face, as he leaned down. Your knee was almost to your face, and you whine at the burn in your legs.

“Y-Yes— I do—” You admit bashfully. Thrust by thrush, his hips rut faster and faster against your small frame. The sound of his heavy balls hitting the curve of your ass were so sinful and sticky, and you feared Helen or Michael hearing you two.

“So desperate to make a good impression..” John’s hand rests above your pussy, completely fixated on the small bump his large cock is causing. His tip kisses your cervix as he fills your spongy walls, a thin white ring forming at the base. “...that you’re slutting yourself out to a man twice your age.”

His mean tone and jeering words make your eyes water with humiliation, but your moans sing a different tune. John lets out a groan as your cunt flutters around him, shifting his grip to your waist, and his fingers pinching painfully.

“Such a filthy little girl..” he coos in your ear. You squeal girlishly against your hand, biting down on your finger. John drinks in the teary look in your doe eyes, the way they almost roll back in pleasure. Your soft lips around your finger, as you clamp down hard when he begins to toy with your breast. “With such pretty tits— and such soft skin.”

John’s head dips down, his lips wrap around one of your nipples and you let out a loud cry. He’s quick to bite when you slip up and start making too much noise. The feel of his tongue swirling your bud, and his cock plunging in and out of you was too much, and the knot in your belly tightened.

“Ohmygod— fuck—” You whisper and pant as quietly as you can. John laughs against your skin, his hands like magic as they hit every button that makes you squeal.

“Baby needed a real man to make her feel good, hm?” John asks rhetorically and you nod hurriedly through tears, as you lie a babbling mess under his powerful stature. He continues fucking you relentlessly, each thrust beginning to bruise your poor pussy.

“D-Don’t stop— please— ohgod—” You stammer and sob.

John leans back up, but keeps your thigh pressed to your chest with his hand. Running another hand through his black locks, and wiping the sweat off his hairline, he groans harshly. The bulge in your stomach popping up and down kept the blood rushing to his cock.

“Gonna cum inside— make you all nice and full,” He pants. “You want that, hm?”

“Yes— yes please— please—” You don’t even care how pathetic you sound. How needy you sounded. Like all sound of mind flew out the window the moment you came here. The moment he even wrapped his arm around you.

His abs contort and his thrusts began to get sloppier. He gripped your soft hips like a vessel, like he owned you. John grins devilishly at your pretty little cries and pleas, enjoying how much you craved him.

“God you make the prettiest noises— all for me, hm? Just for me,” John hisses, snapping his hips faster against you as his fingers work skillfully on your bundle of nerves, sending waves through your trembling legs.

You let out an embarrassingly loud squeal, wallens tightening around his thick girth when you feel climax approaching. He shoots ropes of his warm seed inside you, filling you to the brim.

The air is filled with the sound of your weak moans and his quiet pants. Your bodies drenched in sweat, and the Vermont wind is painfully cold now as the passion fades. The thirst of desperation was now quenched with guilt and horror as you realised what you’ve done.

John returns to his blank expression, pulling out of you with a sloppy sound. You wince when his fingers wipe your sensitive folds, collecting his cum on his fingers as he pushes it back inside you. “These pillows are expensive.”

You lie there in shock at how nonchalantly he behaves: like he didn’t just ravage his son’s girlfriend on the couch, leaving her covered in lovebites and full of warm cum. You watch as he tucks himself back into his sweats, and heads back inside the villa.

Soon enough you follow suit, and dress yourself to come back inside. The house was dark and empty, presumably everyone was asleep at this point. You tiptoe to your room with Michael, and thankfully he lies snoring away— unaware what you just committed.

You change into fresh panties and pyjamas, feeling John’s sticky cum on your thighs as it leaks out of you. The betrayal and sin leaks from your skin as you climb into bed, and guilt drips from your pores when Michael wraps his arm around you.

Guilt that you wish it was John’s arm instead.

Fin.

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1K notes · View notes

hosiesmunchkins · 2 years

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i haven’t watched the finale and i don’t plan to do so anytime soon. i am happy that josie was given the importance that she deserves and i got my endgame. if it’s not an endgame for anyone else. for me it is. i am not exactly happy with it, but i can make my peace with it. this account will always be reminder of a person who loved a ship boundlessly and cried…wept their heart out. thank you hosie for making me feel something.

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mayfieldss · 5 months

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Oblivious - Hazel Callahan

summary; Hazel is head over heels for you (literally) , but she doesn't think you feel the same.

AN: that's the gay shit I love.

It burned. Hazel could feel it, the sharp sting in her gut as she watched you across the classroom laughing at something Josie had said. It burned particularly now, because Hazel had come to the realization that she thought you were perfect. Hazel thought that despite your flaws, and all the things you didn't like about yourself, you were perfect for her.

She loved the way you would smile at her when you caught her staring, the way you would wave. She loved the way you would pull on your earlobe when having a conversation, as if it helped you think of your next sentence.

You weren't straight—you'd hinted that to Hazel enough times for her to finally catch your drift—but still Hazel didn't think you could like her in any way other than platonic. She was clumsy and terrible with social cues, and she had a large expanse of button up shirts that looked as though she'd stolen them from her uncle in his forties. But the way you smiled at her, and complimented her mid-life-crisis themed fashion sense, the more Hazel fell for you. That's where the clumsiness came in.

Hazel swore every time she saw you, her legs would give out. Her ankles would twist at unnatural angles, her hand would lose its grip on whatever she was holding. She would fall, stumble or drop something, no matter how many times she tried to stay upright. And each time, you would reach out to help her. That could have been because helping was a natural response in such a situation, but Hazel interpreted it differently. It was just another thing to add to her list.

You were perfect for her.

But she wasn't perfect for you.

"I was just wondering if you wanted to sit together? like in class?" Hazel doesn't know what she's saying, but she's just stopped you in the hallway, Josie by your side. Whether it was jealousy or general Hazel interest, she didn't know, but somehow she was talking and couldn't quite stop. "Because we haven't ever sat together before, and I thought maybe you'd want to. Sit with me, I mean."

You're smiling at her, mouth slightly agape, and Hazel's heart starts its routine of bouncing along the walls of her ribcage. "You don't have to, obviously but—"

"I'd love to sit with you Hazel." You put a stop to her rambling with the answer, and for a moment Hazel doesn't know what to do. She's grinning like an idiot, eyes locked to yours, just long enough to make it weird.

"See you in class, Hazel." you go to move past her, Josie still beside you, and Hazel allows herself an awkward wave.

"Okay, yeah, see you." she's nodding profusely and continues to wave even when your back is turned. She can't stop. You're like a dream she always wants to have. Tomorrow in class, she'll see you again, hopefully sitting closer this time, and maybe she'll never have to wake up.

"Heyyyyy" Hazel hates the way she greets you, the way she says one simple word. She hates the strange flip of her stomach when you sit down beside her. She hates the way her chair squeaks when she discreetly tries to inch closer. The one thing Hazel doesn't hate, is you.

"Hey," you reply, all warm smiles and gentle eyes. You look happy to see her, at least from what Hazel can interpret, which must be a good sign.

"How are you?" Your shoulder brushes Hazel's as she asks, and her whole body seems to rewire itself around the touch. You don't react to the sensation at all, but turn to look at her. Hazel can feel her face shifting colors, cheeks flushed pink as if she's just run a marathon.

"I'm okay, I bumped into Jeff earlier though. He's makes my skin crawl, I swear." you fake a shiver for dramatic effect, "How about you?"

Hazel responds too fast, unblinking and in a panic. "Oh yeah, I swear too."

All you do is laugh, a soft sound that relieves the tension hidden within Hazel's shoulders. "I know you swear Hazel, I've heard you. I meant how are you?" You place one hand on top of Hazel's on the desk, a sweet gesture. A kind one. You're not judging her, or making fun. Not like everyone else.

"Oh, yeah I'm good." Hazel's eyes drift to your hand atop her own. She's trying to memorize the feeling without making it obvious. "I'm really good, totally great."

"That's good." You're still looking at her, but you pull your hand away when you notice Hazel's lack of eye contact. Instead, you go to grab your books, pulling them out one by one from your bag. Hazel has never wanted to be a history textbook more in her life.

"Did you want me to beat him up?" the words come out before Hazel can stop them, your movements pausing as you register the sentence.

"What?" there's a confused chuckle within the word as you turn back to Hazel, frown deepening.

"Jeff, You said he was bothering you. Did you want me to beat him up?" Hazel is serious, or at least she thinks she is when she says it. She would most definitely fight someone for you. You just had to say the word.

As Hazel watches, a grin begins to creep onto your face again. She likes the look on you, and tries to mimic the expression in return, though she doubts she looks as ethereal. "You're funny, you know that?"

Hazel wants to say something in response, she has the words on her lips "You're pretty, you know that?" but she doesn't get to say them. Before she can, she's interrupted, the teacher more than irritated with the continuing conversation. He shushes the both of you, a finger to his lips, before going back to writing on the blackboard. Hazel thinks of saying something anyway, but when she turns back your way, you're already hard at work, nose in your books.

Hazel will try again tomorrow, and maybe she'll get it right when she does.

The first thing Hazel sees are the tears. The gentle swell of water in your eyes, and the lines it traces as it falls down your cheeks. She's never seen you cry, and honestly it makes her far sadder than it should for someone who is just supposed to be your friendly acquaintance. But seeing you in this different light, one that reflects off your tearstained cheeks, doesn't make her love you less.

In seconds, she's jogging your way, jumping in front of you as she calls your name. You almost bump into her as you come to a sudden stop, wiping your eyes with the back of your hand.

"Are you okay? Why are you crying?" Hazel doesn't know if she should reach out to touch you or not, and watches as you sink the ground in the courtyard. It's almost empty save for the two of you, everyone else on their way to class. Hazel follows suit, and crouches down into a spiderman like position.

"I'm okay," You try for a smile, but it falls short, taking a slice of Hazel's heart with it as it hits the floor. "I've just had a rough day."

"Is there anything I can do? I can run and get you those little cookies you like from the store just down the road if you want." Hazel is swaying a little in her odd position, as if she could blow over with a gust of wind, and you look just a little calmer somehow. You shake your head no, and this time a smile comes easier, though it's not as bright as usual.

"Thanks Hazel, but it's okay, really."

You don't look as distressed as before but Hazel still wants to go and buy you expensive cookies to mend the possible hole in your heart. Even whilst sniffling away your sadness, she can't take her eyes off of you, but somehow she still doesn't see it coming.

It took Hazel more than a moment to register what was happening when you shuffled toward her, and her brain began to short circuit more than usual when your lips got a lot closer to hers than they had ever been before. She fell over of course, forward rolling headfirst thanks to her awkward position and extreme panic, avoiding the kiss in a way never seen before.

Instantly, you jolt back, red flush consuming your neck and cheeks at an alarming rate. "I am so sorry Hazel, I thought there was something—I thought there was like a thing... I don't know what I thought." You stand abruptly, stumbling backward as Hazel makes her own way to her feet. She's got dust on her jeans as she rises, and an audacious smile snaking its way onto her expression.

"Did you just try to kiss me?"

Hazel watches as you shift on your feet, looking near tears again after all that had happened. "I'm sorry," you say again, a hand coming up to cover your mouth in shame, muffling your next words. "I thought you liked me too, I don't know what came over me."

There's a loud ringing in Hazel's ears from then on, a buzzing that blocks out everything except for you as her brain processes it all, working to take step after step in your direction. She reaches up, when close enough, and pulls your hand away from your lips, holding it in her own.

"Can I kiss you?" Her voice is quiet, but her smile is more than present as she waits for your response. A response she's been wanting for months, to a question she'd always been too afraid to ask.

GENERAL TAGLIST: @heliads @candywh0r3 @caplanreadss @hiya-itsamber @s00buwu

BOTTOMS TAGLIST: empty

AN: not my best work but it's gay enough

reblogs are appreciated!

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gludgenbell · 2 years

Note

Have you heard of squishmallows? They're really cute and really cuddly plushies/pillows.

Yes! My older sister has a whole bunch and they sell them at the mall here

#they're quite soft #I dont have any of my own but my sister loves hers #got a jellyfish named Josie or something #gludgen answers!#anonymous

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denwritesandcries · 4 months

Text

Hold to my Hand – Hazel Callahan

Pairing: loser!hazel x fem!reader

Summary: You might be a little – completely – obsessed with your girlfriend's hands and apparently she enjoys that a lot.

Word count: 2,3k.

Content: cursing, fluff, kisses, slight jealousy, hazel being a loser AND a mess, soft gfs.

A/N: So… women, right? Women with rings and cold hands… right?

English is not my first language.

“Babe, stop that!”

“What?” You said, “I’m not doing anything.”

But you were.

You were sprawled out on your girlfriend Hazel's bed, a book from your English class abandoned in front of you while your girlfriend had a laptop open on her lap, the cute look of concentration from before replaced by red cheeks and nervousness at your actions.

It was no big deal, actually, your girlfriend was simply very easy to flustreat; you had one of her hands in yours, leaving feather-light kisses along her calloused, ring-covered fingers, sending goosebumps across her cold skin.

“You’re distracting me,” she whines, looking away to a random spot in the room, “I can’t type like this.”

You huff, climbing higher on the bed to be at her height, keeping your grip on her hand and glancing at the laptop screen.

“Boxing and wrestling techniques?” you read, letting your head fall to rest on her shoulder, “Will you really gonna start a fight club with Josie and PJ?”

Hazel immediately perks up, telling you all about the idea that she and the girls had at lunch – you're sure 80% of it must have come from PJ, but you don't have the courage to interrupt her – and how they're going to get along and have fun with this and Hazel will teach everyone self defense techniques. She looks so much like a happy puppy that it warms your heart.

Unfortunately, you can't give her full attention to the conversation, being too involved in the way she gestures to process anything else.

Okay, maybe you're a little – just a little – obsessed with your girlfriend's hands.

“...You sure you don't want to?”

“Huh?”

Hazel's voice snaps you out of your reverie and she's staring at you with bright, expectant blue eyes.

“Are you sure you don't want to join?” She repeats.

“Hm-hm,” you mumble.

“Please?” She asks softly, “For me?”

You look away from her, because there's no way to deny anything if you're looking at that needy dog face, and you keep yourself looking at the old judo and jiu-jitsu trophies that she keeps on the shelves in the big room.

She really wants you to be part of this, but you know PJ and Josie are probably only doing it because they want to fuck someone and Hazel because she wants to make more friends, but the most you'd get from this club would be a broken nose or tooth, so no, thanks.

“I can come to see you at meetings and give you moral support, love.”

It's not exactly what she wanted, but you know you won. Hazel completely softens the moment you call her love, every single time.

Hazel lets out a long dramatic sigh, giving up her laptop and turning to wrap her arms around you, burying her face in your neck.

“Fine, but you’ll definitely change your mind when the club finally starts!” She declares.

You scoff, sinking into her touch when you feel her hands spread on your hips beneath your shirt comfortably.

“Do you really want to get into this with those two, Haze?” Your question breaks the established silence, somewhat uncertain.

Your girlfriend unfortunately had a tendency to not notice or just not stand up for herself when someone was mean to her and PJ and Josie weren't exactly known for being gentle with people, so Hazel running something with them made you quite apprehensive. Of course, you wouldn't do anything to change her mind since it was something she really seemed to want to do, but a little caution wouldn't hurt.

“Oh, they know what they're doing, babe,” she squeezes you a little tighter, “They were in juvie!”

You laugh, “No, they weren't.”

“Still.”

You keep your word and start attending all the fight club meetings – under PJ's complaints that you're not really doing anything –, busying yourself with cheering Hazel on during her turns and talking to Mr.G about any nonsense stuff that he wants to speak in the stands. It's actually quite fun, but you don't change your mind about the fighting part.

You start bringing water bottles as a treat to the girls while you're there and take on the role of tending to all of Hazel's injuries when it's all over – which is a lot, since they don't really seem to know what they're doing in the moment –, you find yourself being very good at it and probably would have become the whole group personal nurse if it weren't for the possessive look in bright blue eyes and the sad pout on Hazel's face when she watched you wipe the blood from a cut on Brittany's cheek and put on one of the cute little band-aids that were supposed to be only for her one day.

Besides all that, the most important thing is that you have a free pass to admire your girlfriend as much as you want and she looks great kicking ass and throwing punches. Especially throwing punches.

In your defense, the obsession with your girlfriend's hands, your girlfriend’s touch, is actually justified. The thing is, you never had many friends since you came to this weird school and neither did Hazel, so when you got together everything in your relationship was a little new; you found yourself suddenly starving for contact.

Holding hands, playing with the rings on her fingers, pats on the shoulders, arms around the body, hugs, caresses. It was simply impossible not to be aware of every little touch that Hazel gives you, even less impossible not to melt with them.

So yes, maybe you liked it a little too much when Hazel came to you asking to bandage her bruised knuckles just because it gave you the chance to touch her as much as you wanted, like now, at home.

“Ouch!”

“Stop moving, Haze,” you complain as you apply the antiseptic to her, “This will only make it worse.”

“But it hurts,” Hazel whimpers, pulling her injured hand to her chest protectively.

She's sitting on the bathroom sink, which probably wasn't very safe, but it was the best way for you to treat her and also where the first aid kit you were using was kept.

Today's fight seems to have been a little more serious than usual because Hazel's dominant hand is hurt. Like really hurt, with purple bruises already forming over the torn skin, so your spare band-aids weren't enough to take care of it. Now, if she would just let you handle it properly.

“That's bad, you're lucky it didn't break,” you say, taking her hand more gently to examine it, “Damn, what did that blue-haired girl do to you to make this happen?”

Hazel stays quiet, suddenly embarrassed and looking at anything else as you wrap a clean bandage around the wound.

"Then?" You press.

Hazel mumbles something slurred and unintelligible and you frown, not knowing what could have made her so embarrassed. With how easily that happens tho, you didn't have a good guess.

“I heard her talking to some girls before the meeting today.” She pauses, “Talking about you.”

“Oh,” you say, trying to pull away a little so you can look her in the eyes, but Hazel closes her legs around your waist so you can’t move, “Saying bad things?”

She shakes her head and swallows, her blush deepening.

“She said that she likes it when you come to see us,” her good hand grabs the front of your shirt, “Said she wanted to ask you out.”

“Oh, Haze–” You begin.

“She knew we were dating. She knew. But she kept talking about it and I– I got mad, so I hit her.”

Hazel says it all quickly as if it were a single sentence, but you understand anyway; she is nervous, keeping her eyes closed and looking down. She was jealous, still is, but she's also scared of what you'll think of her for it.

Screw it, you think, it's a fight club, people are going to get hurt sometimes. Now it's time to comfort your girlfriend.

“You beat the shit out of a girl for me?” You say, taking the bandaged hand gently and bringing it to your lips, “That’s hot.”

Hazel's face is so red it glows, “Babe,” she squeals.

"What?" You tease, leaving smacking kisses from fist to wrist, “She should know better than to say things like that for you to hear, how rude.”

Hazel’s pupils are dilated when her eyes meet yours, “You’re serious?”

“Hmm,” you hum, leaving a mark of lip gloss on her skin, “Like I would leave the best girlfriend in the world for someone else like that.”

She squirms in your grip, swallowing hard and trying to keep from stuttering and you can't help the giggle that escapes as you notice a shiver run through her.

“You’re doing that on purpose,” she whines.

“I’m not,” you shrug, innocently, “I’m just kissing it better.”

You think Hazel never really realized the effect her touch has on you until one day at the library.

There's no club meeting today, so when you make your way to the library after your last class, your girlfriend follows along beside you excitedly, rambling about her day and waving your hands together as you walk down the halls.

You had to study for a history test, so you find a table in the back where you like to stay while Hazel looks for a book nearby to entertain herself.

You just spend less than an hour focusing on memorizing dates and names your teacher sent to the next test before your ears pick up the clink of Hazel's rings against the antique wood of the table.

Your gaze shifts away without even realizing it, focusing on Hazel's drumming and immersed expression.

“Have any of your rings ever fallen off?” You ask with sudden curiosity, even after months together this had never occurred to you.

“Huh?” She lifts her head, “Oh, yes. Lots of them.”

Hazel stops for a moment to check it and adjust some looseness and you gently take the hand with the ring you gave her, running your thumb over the silly little smiley face plastered on it.

“I never take that one off,” she smiles.

“I noticed,” you laugh, feeling your cheeks heat up, “You might end up breaking your finger over this, you know? Or someone’s nose.”

“I was trying to be romantic,” Hazel snorts.

“Sorry, love,” you lean across the table closer to her, looking between the plastic ring, “I just gave that to you as a silly joke.”

Hazel tilts her head, that confused and bit sad puppy expression back on her face.

“Yeah?”

You nod, “One day I’ll give you a real one, with a real gem,” You can feel Hazel staring at you, her jaw is probably dropped, but you settle for shaking her hand, “A blue one. Will suit you.”

“You think so?” She sighs.

“Of course,” you find yourself saying, “I’ll give you the most beautiful one, the first one everyone will notice when they look at you.”

You look up to find Hazel. Just Hazel. With soft eyes, bright smile and hands full of rings.

There were moments – moments like this – when it felt like there were only the two of you in the world, when you couldn't see or feel anything but Hazel and you drowned in her completely.

Taking a deep breath, she leans over the table, hand letting go of yours to slide down your arm. You swear your skin crawls.

“Babe?” Hazel calls; you notice how she keeps her voice low for fear of ruining the moment, even though she's so clearly nervous.

You open your mouth and nothing comes out, the touch on your skin is cold but it feels like it's burning you from the inside out. What did you come here to do in the first place?

Hazel leans back under the forgotten book and you grab her wrist when she moves to keep her close.

“I– I would like that,” she says, eyes wide and face flushed, “Sounds good, I mean.”

"You deserve it. You deserve this and more, love,” You’re not really sure what ‘more’ is, especially for someone who can buy anything they want like Hazel. Maybe it’s all she wanted, all you could offer her; maybe it’s just you.

Hazel squeezes your hand, leaning in closer and running her thumb over your knuckles so gently that the noise you make is embarrassing. You think she's going to kiss you and maybe she would have, if it weren't for the angry shush! coming from the librarian near the bookshelves next to you two.

She only mentions it days later, when you're back in her bed, curled up in a familiar way while Hazel scrolls through her phone.

Her fingers are running through your hair, almost lulling you to sleep and you feel like you could do the same as the cat at the foot of the bed and melt into a purring puddle under her touch.

“You have a thing for my hands,” she comments out of nowhere, interrupting the peaceful atmosphere, a giggle in her tone.

“What?” You ask confused, using your arms to lean against her chest, “I do not.”

You know it's not true, but denying it is better than admitting something like that. Hazel gives you a look; she knows you better than that.

“But you do,” Hazel turns you in her arms and you let out a surprised squeak at the action when she finds yourself on top of you.

You shake your head, refusing to give in, but she runs her cold hands under your shirt, resting on the warm skin of your belly – this seems to be one of her favorite things to do.

“Jeez!” You hiss, “How can you be so cold all the time? You’re like a lizard.”

“Oh, I love lizards!”

“Haze!”

You squirm in her grip, but Hazel holds firm, an unusual confidence behind her actions.

“Admit it,” she asks with a smirk, “You have a thing for my hands.”

“I have a thing for you.”

The cocky little smile she has every time she touches you for the next week is totally worth it – and it's also totally kissable.

#hazel callahan #bottoms 2023 #hazel callahan x reader #hazel callahan x you #bottoms movie #hazel bottoms #denwrites

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dbstaches · 5 months

Text

Dave Ball, Brian Moss, Stevo and Marc Almond at Mediasound studio, NYC, circa 1981. Photo by Josie Warden, via Vicious Pink Instagram.

#Soft Cell #Dave Ball #David Ball #Marc Almond #Vicious Pink #Vicious Pink Phenomena #Brian Moss #Stevo #1980s #1981 #Josie Warden #misc #image #photo #moustache #synthpop #new wave

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bellaxgiornata · 4 months

Text

Underneath the Mistletoe

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader Word Count: 4.8k

Summary: Tired of enduring the obvious pining between you and Matt, Foggy and Karen plan a way to get you and Matt to admit your feelings - or at least to kiss.

Warnings/tags: Nothing but holiday fluff and first kisses

a/n: Finally I managed to get a holiday fic written with everything going on here for me for at least one of my boys! This one grew longer than anticipated but I hope y'all enjoy! Feedback is always appreciated!

Matt Murdock One Shot Tag List: @pazii @shouldbestudying41 @kmc1989 @ebathory997 @mattkinsella @yeonalie @shiorimakibawrites @xxdrixx @wkndwlff @leikelle @pinkratts @lazyxsquirrel @1988-fiend @marvelcinematiquniverse @carstairswife @stilldreaming666 @kiwwia-wiwwia @willwork4dilfs @will-delete-this-later-probably @mattmurdocks6thscaleapartment @theetherealbloom @yarrystyleeza @dramaholic18

Walking in step beside Foggy with her heels clacking along the sidewalk, Karen twirled the branch of mistletoe in her hand, her eyes transfixed on it as it spun. A soft laugh lightly fell from her lips as she shook her head at the fresh clipping. Glancing over her shoulder, she shot Foggy a questioning look beside her. The movement caught his attention and he shifted towards her, catching her eye in return.

“What?” Foggy asked. “What's with that look?”

Karen raised her hand, holding out the mistletoe towards him. One blonde brow rose up onto her forehead skeptically as she eyed him.

“I don't know, Fog,” she mused. “Do you really think this is going to accomplish anything tonight?”

Foggy let out a huff as he reached out, snatching the branch from her hand. He glared playfully back at Karen as Josie’s bar came into view farther down the block.

“Of course it is!” he exclaimed. “Because it's mistletoe , Karen! When two people stand under it, they are required to kiss.”

Karen rolled her eyes, waving a dismissive hand at him. “I know what it is, Fog,” she replied. “But do you think it'll actually get them to kiss? Or even go so far as to admit that they have feelings for each other?”

“It has to,” Foggy answered firmly. “Because I for one am personally tired of Matt making plans to come to Josie’s on specific nights after work, at specific times, just to run into our pretty new friend who often comes here alone because she's quite clearly smitten by our dear, frustrating Matthew. I mean, aren't you tired of watching all the obvious pining, too?”

Karen expelled an audible breath, a wispy cloud of water vapor forming in the air in front of her before it dispersed into the frigid night. Running a gloved hand through her hair, she nodded.

“Yeah, I am,” she agreed. “I mean it's so clear that she's interested in him with the way her eyes are always glued to him whenever he's around. Always smiling at him. And Matt is always finding ways to flirt with her. Or constantly inviting her to meet us back at Josie’s whenever he can–there's absolutely no way he can deny it, either. There's clearly something there.”

“So tonight we'll just…help them along,” Foggy told her, a glimmer of mischief in his eyes. “Right? Just to get them to stop dancing around their feelings with a little, festive nudge. That's all.”

Slowly, a devious smile spread itself across Karen’s lips as the pair came to a stop in front of the bar. Foggy shot Karen a conspiratorial wink before he opened the door to the bar, a burst of warm air wafting out immediately. He waved her inside before following after her, his eyes scanning the room for Josie. The moment he spotted her behind the bar he held up the branch of mistletoe in the air high above his head.

“Josie!” he called out.

Behind the bar, Josie’s head darted up from the bottle of beer she was opening for a patron. When recognition dawned on her face at who had called for her, she shot the pair of them a flat look.

“What do you want, Nelson?” she called back.

“Two beers and your permission to hang this up in your fine establishment,” Foggy answered her, waving the mistletoe above his head again.

Josie eyed the branch for a moment before dramatically rolling her eyes. “Whatever,” she shot back, focusing back on opening the bottle of beer. “Just as long as you aren't expecting me to kiss you tonight.”

“Aww, Josie,” Foggy cooed, “you wound me so! And on such a magical evening no less.”

“Pay your tab and it'll be a magical evening,” Josie quipped back.

Beside Foggy, Karen threw a hand over her mouth as a giggle bubbled up out of her. Foggy shot Karen yet another playful glare before he led the way over towards the bar, eager to see how the night would unfold.

“Ugh, it was such a good look on his face, too!” Foggy exclaimed, slamming his palm onto the small wooden table for emphasis. “I mean, when Matt dropped that line to the jury, you could just see the color drain from Samson's face! It was beautiful !”

A smile pulled at the corner of your lips as you glanced down at the bottle of beer before you. You'd made your way through the flurry of snowflakes outside once you'd left your office, walking all the way over to Josie’s just so you could meet up with the three lawyers you'd strangely come to befriend here over the past few months.

The three of them often loved to celebrate their wins in court here, something you had quickly found yourself invited to as if you'd always been part of the group–or the law firm of Nelson, Murdock, and Page itself–instead of just having been the woman at the bar Foggy had once accidentally spilled a drink on before insisting that he buy you your next drink to apologize. After that night when you'd met his friends, you usually found yourself joining them at this little dive bar on a weekly basis.

And it was no surprise to you that the three of them would be here again this evening because you'd seen them here only two nights ago when Matt himself had asked if you'd join them again. It was quite a confident gesture of him to invite you out to celebrate their win already that night, too, considering the trial hadn’t even happened yet–though confidence bordering on cockiness seemed the norm when it came to Matthew Murdock. Initially you hadn't been planning to come out tonight, but the moment his red lenses had focused on you from across the table and he had flashed you that charming smile on his handsome face, you knew you'd change your plans just to spend another few hours in his presence. You couldn't exactly resist the attractive lawyer who was always flashing smiles in your direction, and he often wasn't far from your mind whenever you weren’t here.

But of course you'd never admit that.

“It was pretty entertaining, I'll agree,” Karen replied.

Across the table from you, Matt shifted in his chair. The moment his knee brushed yours underneath the table, your hand tightened around your beer bottle. Inhaling a sharp breath, you sat entirely still in your seat, glad Matt couldn't see your reaction. Though you could feel the heat rising up your neck as your knee felt like it was pleasantly tingling from the brief contact with his. Across from you, Matt cleared his throat, one of his large hands rising from the table and tugging at the collar of his tie. You fought hard to not openly stare at his fingers as they pulled at the fabric, a tight smile slipping onto his lips.

“If only I could have witnessed it,” Matt added.

Internally you agreed. You could only imagine what it would be like to see Matt in action, delivering such powerful and impassioned speeches that you'd only ever drunkenly heard him recite in bits and pieces after the fact at Josie’s. You'd love to see him with his tie done up tight and his suit jacket on, his broad shoulders squared in that confident manner he had as he walked around the courtroom as if he owned it. Which you knew he must do in court because you saw him do it every time he entered this bar.

And it never failed to turn you on.

You knew it was stupid and foolish, but you wanted him horribly; you always had ever since the night he held out his hand to you and told you his name. He was a beautiful mystery, always so observant for a man lacking one of his senses. And he was charming and flirtatious, which often threw you off even though you assumed it was just his personality. Admittedly you had a crush on him, one you were too afraid to ever confess because he seemed far too out of your league.

“Hey,” Foggy said, cutting through your thoughts, “what do you all say to a game of pool tonight? Guys against gals?”

Attention shifting to Foggy who was sitting beside Matt, you noticed the way his eyes were darting around the three of you. Eyes narrowing curiously for a moment, you wondered what was with the look he seemed to keep shooting Karen. Out of the corner of your eye, you swore you saw Matt’s dark brow rise curiously above his glasses as if he somehow had also detected something strange in the way Foggy had suggested the game of pool.

“I don't know,” you began slowly, eyeing the three of them. “I think maybe tonight I'll sit the game out. I'm pretty worn out from work today, I don't think I’m up for a game.”

Foggy’s eyes immediately went wide, his mouth falling open as he gaped at you. Your bottom lip slipped between your teeth awkwardly as you sent him a sheepish smile.

“Oh come on!” Foggy pressed. “It’ll be fun! I promise!”

“Sorry,” you muttered, shrugging lightly. “Not tonight for me.”

Foggy opened his mouth as if he was about to immediately protest, but you felt a hand lightly land on your shoulder. Glancing to your left, you spotted Karen shooting you a wide smile as her piercing blue eyes locked onto yours.

“That’s alright, Fog,” Karen said quickly. “You boys can play a game and the two of us can watch and chat. Right?”

“Oh, uh, yeah, sure,” you stammered out, confused about the way she was eyeing you while Foggy was staring intensely at the side of her head. “That–that sounds good.”

“Great!” Karen exclaimed as her hand released your shoulder and she slid her chair back. “Let’s go grab another table then.”

Brows furrowed together, you carefully pushed your chair back and rose to your feet along with everyone else. Reaching a hand out, you grabbed your drink from off the table before making your way around it. Though it didn’t escape your notice that Matt still seemed to be wearing a similar look of skepticism on his face. Clearly you weren’t the only one thinking the two seemed off tonight.

Silently you followed behind Karen as she picked out an empty table just beside the pool table and gracefully slid into the seat, sending you a friendly smile as she caught your eye. You returned the gesture, slowly slipping into the seat across from her as Foggy led Matt towards the pool table. Almost involuntarily your eyes flew over to Matt when you saw him set his drink down and begin rolling up his dress sleeves while you settled into your chair. You always did enjoy seeing his muscular forearms covered in those dark hairs, but unfortunately because it was December, he didn’t often roll them up. Though something above his head caught your eye as he was rolling up his left sleeve and you glanced up.

Eyes widening in surprise, you stared at the branch of mistletoe hanging directly above him. That was the last thing you’d have expected to find at Josie’s. She certainly didn’t seem like the type of woman who’d go hanging holiday decorations of any sort in her bar, let alone mistletoe . You were suddenly even more grateful that you’d decided not to play pool tonight so you wouldn’t have to avoid standing beneath it all night.

“So,” Karen began, the conspiratorial lowering of her voice drawing your eye back to her as she leaned forward towards you, “there’s something I’ve been dying to know for awhile and we never really get a chance to chat as just us girls so I haven't had the opportunity to ask.”

Raising your beer bottle to your lips, you took a deep drink from it under the weight of Karen’s stare. You had a feeling you’d need the liquid courage for whatever question she was about to ask you. Swallowing the drink down, you soon cleared your throat, fighting to keep your gaze on Karen and not Matt as he let out a bark of laughter that had your stomach squirming. He always looked unbelievably handsome with a broad smile spread over his beautiful lips–a look you enjoyed seeing on him. It was difficult not to glance at the sight.

“What’s uh, what’s on your mind?” you asked hesitantly.

Her dark pink lips curled ever higher as she leaned further forward, placing her elbows onto the table. Her head tilted a bit to the side, a few strands of blonde hair falling forward and framing her face. The angelic appearance wasn’t fooling you though and your stomach twisted nervously.

“Do you like Matt?” she asked bluntly.

It felt like your heart stopped as the sound of billiard balls clacking together on the nearby pool table rang through your ears. Your lips parted in surprise before you could mask your reaction. Despite the fact that you had a feeling she was going to ask you something along those lines, hearing the question aloud still startled you. Out of the corner of your eye, you swore you saw Matt’s head turn in the direction of your table. Though there was absolutely no way he could’ve overheard Karen with how quietly she’d asked the question, but that didn’t stop the heat from once again rising up your neck and reaching your face.

“Oh, well, of course,” you replied awkwardly, pushing a few strands of hair from your face as you focused on your beer bottle. “I like all of you. That's–that's why I'm always here hanging out with you three.”

Nervously glancing up from under your lashes, you saw Karen’s face twist into a look that clearly said that wasn't what she'd meant at all. You shot her a nervous smile, hoping she wouldn't push it. Though as you grabbed your bottle of beer and brought it to your lips for another pull, it was obvious she wasn't letting this go.

“I don't mean do you like Matt as a friend,” she clarified. “I meant are you interested in him? Romantically speaking?”

Nearly choking as you swallowed your drink, you covered your mouth as you coughed into your hand. You weren't getting out of answering this apparently. It didn't help that it seemed both Foggy and Matt were glancing at your table as you sputtered on the beer, both of them shooting you curious and questioning looks. Across the table, Karen continued to smile innocently back at you as she waited for you to recover.

A few moments later you did, trying to wipe your now clammy hands on the thighs of your dress pants. Your eyes dropped down to the sticky wooden table as you thought about how to answer. Surely she wouldn't believe you if you said no considering the knowing look she was currently giving you. And if you answered truthfully but quietly there was no way Matt should be able to overhear the conversation at least. Right?

At the thought of him, your eyes nervously darted over to the pool table. Matt was lining up a shot, bent in half over the table and angling the cue in his hands.

“It's sort of hard not to like him like that,” you replied softly, eyes still lingering on him. “I mean he's…sweet. And funny. And incredibly smart and self-assured. Confident. Obviously very handsome. But I mean he's…”

Your voice trailed off, your attention still on Matt as he remained bent over the pool table. Brows lightly furrowing, it seemed like he was taking longer than usual to make his shot. A glance at Foggy beside him had you thinking he'd noticed it, too. Briefly you wondered what he was doing until Karen’s voice broke through your thoughts.

“He's what?” she pressed.

Sighing, your attention returned to your almost empty bottle of beer. Unclasping a hand from your lap, you reached out and grabbed the neck of the bottle. You shrugged lightly, unable to meet her gaze.

“Too far out of my league,” you muttered.

Drawing the bottle up to your lips, you finished the last of the beer. As you lowered the empty bottle back to the table, swallowing down your drink, you spotted Karen shooting Foggy a look. You couldn't possibly have been imagining it now, clearly they were up to something. But before you could figure out what, Karen spun back around in her seat and shot you a bright smile.

“Look at that, you already finished your drink. How about I get the next round of drinks before we continue this conversation?” she offered.

She quickly pushed her chair back before you could reply, her attention focusing on Matt and Foggy. Eyebrows drawing together, a nervous feeling swirled in your stomach, mingling with the alcohol.

“You boys need another round of beers?” Karen called over to them. “On me this time, in honor of our win earlier today?”

Matt's head tilted a bit to the side as he focused on her. “Oh, I don't–”

“Of course!” Foggy exclaimed loudly, cutting Matt off as he clapped him on the shoulder. “And you know what? I'll come with and help you grab them.”

Before you even knew what was happening, Foggy was waving you over enthusiastically with a hand. That nervous feeling only grew in your stomach when Karen turned, glancing over her shoulder at you with that bright smile that was clearly meant to be hiding something as Foggy called out your name.

“Why don’t you come keep Matt company?” Foggy suggested. “And you know, make sure he doesn't cheat to win this game while I'm gone.”

Matt audibly scoffed, shaking his head and countering the accusation immediately. But you weren't paying too much attention to their playful banter as you awkwardly rose to your feet and began making your way over towards Matt. Instead, your eyes were occasionally darting up and eyeing that damn bit of mistletoe that Matt was once again standing directly beneath. Which was why you intentionally came to a stop at the corner of the pool table, trying to keep some distance between you, Matt, and that little bit of mistletoe.

Though what you hadn't accounted for was Karen stumbling in her heels behind you and accidentally bumping into you, pushing you the few steps forward where you tripped directly into Matt. His hands swiftly darted out and grabbed onto your upper arms, steadying you as you tried to catch your balance. And when you finally did, you abruptly realized your own hands had flown to Matt’s very firm, solid chest to stop your fall. Your face flamed from embarrassment and you quickly withdrew them from him, crossing them over your chest awkwardly. But Matt's hands remained on your arms, keeping you close as the warmth of them seeped through the sleeves of your blouse.

“I am so sorry,” Karen suddenly began apologizing behind you. “My heel must've caught on something along the floor. I didn't mean to do that!”

“It's alright,” you replied, your face still burning as you gazed at the handsome face before you. “But uh, sorry for accidentally running into you, Matt.”

His hands slowly began to release their hold on you, that charming smile returning to his face as he remained focused on you. With how close you were standing to him, you could feel your heart slamming harder in your chest. He was just so unfairly attractive.

“Don't worry about it, sweetheart,” he assured you.

For a moment you stood there staring back at Matt's smiling face, almost feeling mesmerized by the expression on it. But a loud gasp from just beside Matt broke you out of your staring and caused you to glance over his shoulder at Foggy. Your pulse jumped when you caught him pointing a finger at the mistletoe hanging directly above Matt and yourself. Before you had a chance to move, finally remembering that you'd been trying to avoid the damn thing, the words were already coming out of his mouth.

“It appears you and Matt have found yourself beneath some mistletoe!” Foggy exclaimed.

Before you, Matt's head cocked to the side as his brows drew beneath his dark lenses. For some reason the smile on his face only grew wider as his covered gaze remained fixed on you.

“We have?” Matt asked curiously.

“Oh, yes!” Karen added from your other side, pointing a finger up at the branch hanging from the ceiling. “Foggy’s right!”

A light laugh slipped out of Matt, the warmth of it raising goosebumps along your arms as you felt rooted to the spot in front of him. You weren't sure if you should move or not; whether you should attempt to run away and come up with some excuse as to why he didn't need to kiss you. But it didn't help that part of you was hoping he'd somehow want to kiss you.

“I find it quite interesting that our dear Josie would put up mistletoe in her bar,” Matt mused aloud. “She doesn't seem the type.”

“Well either way,” Foggy cut in with an awkward laugh, “it's there! And you're both standing beneath it! So you know what that means! I mean it is tradition after all.”

Eyes growing wide, you openly gaped at Foggy and Karen as she came to stand beside him, a glint of something reflecting back at you in her eyes. Your lips parted as a rush of questions raced through your mind. Had they been the ones to put up the mistletoe? Were they doing it to get you and Matt to kiss? And if that was why they'd been acting so strange tonight– why ? Why would they want you two to kiss?

The sound of Matt clearing his throat brought you back to the moment. Your mouth was still hanging open as you focused back on him, noticing the almost nervous smile now spread on his face. Why did he look nervous?

“Fog uh…has a point,” Matt said, rubbing a hand across the back of his neck. “It is tradition for two people to kiss underneath mistletoe.”

You could feel your pulse jumping in your throat at his words as behind him you noticed Foggy and Karen quietly making their way over to the bar, leaving you alone with Matt. As your gaze fell back on him before you, your mouth opened and closed a few times while you struggled to form a coherent sentence until one suddenly blurted out of you.

“You want to kiss me?”

Your eyes instantly grew somehow wider at the question, your hand flying over your mouth to keep any further stupid thoughts from coming out of it. An adorable grin tugged at Matt's lips at your question, a small chuckle slipping out of him. Behind your hand, your teeth clamped down onto your bottom lip in sheer embarrassment.

“Well, if we're being honest,” Matt began, one hand readjusting the glasses on his nose, “then I should admit I've wanted to kiss you for weeks now. The mistletoe is just…oddly convenient.”

Swallowing hard, you tried to control your breathing which had begun to come in shallower at his confession. He'd wanted to kiss you for weeks now? That fact had your heart hammering heavily in your chest as nerves raced through your body. You could feel your stomach flipping anxiously as you stood there entirely unsure how to respond.

“But we uh, we certainly don't have to,” Matt said slowly, breaking the silence that had fallen between the pair of you. “I don't want to make you uncomfortable and ruin things between us.”

Feeling your opportunity to let him know how you felt slipping away, your hand flew from your mouth, hovering in the air between the pair of you as a loud ‘no!’ flew from your lips. The way Matt tilted his head at you, his brows rising up on his forehead as that grin returned to his face, had your cheeks once more burning tonight. But you couldn't let this moment slip past your fingers, not with how long you'd been thinking about it.

“I'd like to,” you admitted awkwardly. “I mean I–I’ve wanted to–to kiss you, too.” You paused when the grin on his face grew wider, your stomach somersaulting at the sight. “Because I…I kind of have a crush on you…”

“Yeah?” he asked, head still canted to the side. “That's fortunate for me since I have a crush on you.”

“Seriously?” you whispered in disbelief.

Matt nodded, that boyish and charming grin growing ever wider on his lips. The lips you suddenly couldn't seem to take your eyes off of.

“Mhmm,” he hummed out.

“I never knew…” you murmured, voice trailing off.

As you stood there trying to wrap your head around what he'd told you, Matt took a step closer towards you, closing the small bit of space. He reached around you, his arm almost grazing yours as he leant his pool cue up against the table.

“So about that mistletoe,” Matt mused, lightly placing his hands on your upper arms again as he leaned towards you, causing your heart to skip. “We should…probably kiss, right?”

Your eyelids fluttered as you stared back at him, your breath catching in your throat with every inch he seemed to be drawing nearer to you. It was taking your brain far too long to comprehend what was happening, let alone to form much of a response besides the quiet ‘yes’ that slipped out of you.

Matt's right hand released your arm and instead came up to cup your cheek. Gingerly he tilted your head, bringing your mouth in towards his as he finally closed the last remaining distance between the pair of you. The moment his lips touched yours, your eyes snapped shut.

At first his lips merely brushed against yours in a warm, gentle graze. The feeling sent a rush of excitement through your entire body as your hands flew up, gripping both of his muscular arms to steady yourself. He pulled back only a fraction from you before your lips were chasing after his, desperate for more than that soft, teasing touch.

He obliged instantly as if he knew–or had maybe heard the faint whimper of protest you'd made–and dove back forward again, connecting his mouth to yours with a bit more tenacity than before. His hand cupping your cheek held you more firmly to him as his plush lips passionately moved against yours in a way that left you gasping for air in the brief moments your mouths parted before inevitably connecting again.

For a while neither of you seemed able to tear yourself away from the other, entirely oblivious to the entire bar around the pair of you. Your fingers had curled around the fabric of his dress shirt, gripping tight as you tried to hold yourself up. It felt like you were losing yourself entirely in Matt the longer the pair of you kissed and if you let go, you were afraid you might actually lose your balance.

Which was why it took you a minute to regain your composure when Matt finally broke the kiss. He only moved back a few inches from your face, his warm breath brushing gently over your lips as they remained parted. It was a moment before your eyelids fluttered open, taking in the sight of his smiling face before you. His lips seemed pinker as they glistened with both your saliva, the thought of which had a heat building low inside of you.

“Can I maybe walk you home tonight?” he whispered.

“Yes,” you replied automatically.

“And can I take you to dinner on Friday night?” he asked next. “Would that be alright?”

You nodded slowly, your eyes focused on his beautiful mouth. “Yes,” you whispered back.

Matt's smile grew a little wider as his thumb brushed along your cheekbone. Your whole body felt like it was trembling now, your legs fighting not to give out beneath you. Your hands tightened further on his dress shirt, wrinkling the material.

“And can I kiss you again?” he questioned.

You nodded again, this time more enthusiastically. “Please,” you breathed out.

An amused chuckle slipped out of him as he leaned forward towards you once more. Out of the corner of your eye, just before you'd closed them again, you swore you saw Karen and Foggy exchanging a high five at the bar. But you forgot about that the moment Matt's lips were back on yours, kissing you more fervently than before as he backed you up against the pool table behind you.

#matt murdock x reader #matt murdock fluff #matt murdock x you #matt murdock #holiday fluff #daredevil

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