#and matt is so good to abby??? | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

thefoxholecast · 2 months

Text

The Original Foxhole Court Extra Content (Archived from Nora Sakavic’s Tumblr)

We copied the following text directly from the pre-2024 version of the Foxhole Court Extra Content page on Nora Sakavic’s Tumblr blog (korakos.tumblr.com/fox). In March 2024, she did “some spring cleaning” by shortening the list of links and deleting/hiding old posts. The links in this copy lead to archived snapshots of the old posts on the Internet Archive Wayback Machine.

Some of the links are broken. If you have copies of these posts, please let us know so we can fill in missing content!

Because Tumblr only allows up to 100 links per post, we're unable to replicate the full list here. View the full list of links on our blog here: thefoxholecast.tumblr.com/FoxArchive

The Foxhole Court

ETA 2023: most of the posts here are from 2013-2015. Some of them overlap with older drafts. Some answers have evolved over time, even if they haven’t been updated here. Most I haven’t changed my mind on, for better or worse. Take ‘em or leave ‘em, and good luck making sense of ‘em around all the drunk rambling and detours. One day if I have the energy I’ll just sort it into a coherent reference.

Two sections here: the questions submitted by tumblr users, and a miscellaneous collection of stories & factoids pulled from the oft-neglected blog. The questions aren’t in any particular order, though I did try to organize them by subject matter. Ish. Once the dust is settled a bit I’ll try to find a better sorting system. Also, the tumblr tag I use for questions is http://korakos.tumblr.com/tagged/foxhole-court-questions-and-spoilers

Lots of spoilers for The Foxhole Court ahead!

Preface: Why are Asks disabled in 2016?

COURTING MADNESS

—Exy Rules & Regulations

—Exy: A History of the Sport

—Palmetto State University

—The original “What Happens After King’s Men” post

—SON NEFES, the cousins’ freshman year through Renee’s eyes

——One . Two . Three . Four . Five

—Nicky Hemmick

—Seth Gordon

—Aaron Minyard

—Matt Boyd

—Kevin & Andrew

—David Wymack & the Monsters

—Wymack & Andrew re: Neil

—Dan Wilds is recruited to the Foxes *

—Allison through Dan & Renee’s eyes *

——pulled from an abandoned, unfinished book about the Foxes’ women

TUMBLR

NEIL

—Neil’s life on the run

—Do they ever celebrate Neil’s birthday?

—What if Neil told the truth earlier?

—Neil through the Foxes’ eyes

—Neil through Ichirou’s eyes

—Neil’s looks post-book and relationship with his reflection

—Does Neil ever talk to Bee?

—Neil’s millions

—Neil’s fight training

—Who’s Neil closest to beside Andrew

—Neil’s fashion style

—Cellphone ringtone

—Christmas/birthday presents for Foxes

—Does Neil ever cry?

—Neil’s lonely fifth year

—When Neil’s overwhelmed

—Does Neil crush on his teammates?

—Neil & Ichirou’s intimidation

ANDREW

—Andrew’s sober look at his teammates & Neil

—How did Andrew react to Cass’s letter?

—Andrew’s medication and the follow-up

—Has Abby seen Andrew’s scars?

—Andrew & Mama Bee

—Andrew & Roland

—How far has Andrew willingly gone?

—What animal figurine did Andrew buy Betsy?

—Andrew’s eye color

—Andrew’s opinion of the cats

—What’d Andrew say to Nicky in TKM?

—Andrew’s honest opinion of Exy

—Andrew’s thoughts on Neil’s binder

—Andrew and his sexuality

—If Andrew had met Neil’s mother

—Andrew’s thoughts on Neil’s sexuality

—Andrew’s fondest memory of Neil

—Andrew’s aforementioned withdrawal

—Do you think Andrew is really really really awesome?

—Proust and Andrew

—What happens to Proust?

—Andrew’s reaction to Neil’s bday blood

—Andrew on Neil eventually changing out

—Does Andrew get grumpy?

—Does Andrew get less dead inside?

—Does Andrew call Neil by his name?

—Why give the Foxes crackers?

—Andrew’s first choices in winning a fight

—Who liked knives?

—What got chopped from Drake’s arc?

—Does Andrew get off thinking about Neil?

—Post Andrew & Bee’s side story?

—When did Andrew start thinking Neil was interesting?

—Any other words he can’t stand?

—What does he think about nicknames?

—Explain Andrew’s fatal disease in the comic version

—Andrew’s canon mental state

—How did Andrew not know about Tilda’s abuse?

—Why punch Neil for “Sorry”, and when Andrew is sick

—What’s with Andrew and promises

—Andrew’s thoughts on Roland’s premature confession

—Andrew’s arrest

—Wanting nothing vs not wanting anything

—Why was Andrew laughing after Drake?

—If Neil had chosen Dan & Matt over Andrew

NEIL & ANDREW

—The other 10%

—Which teammate caught on first?

—Do Andrew & Neil go on dates?

—When did they first hold hands?

—When did Andrew clue in?

—Exites self-censure

—Betsy’s & Aaron’s reactions to the news

—Roland’s opinion of things

—The breaking point

—Who tops?

—On tying people up

—Their domestic life aka Sir Fat Cat

—I love you

—Andrew and the bed issue

—Nightmares

—Do they learn to talk to each other?

—Blaming Neil for Drake

—Andrew comforting Neil?

—Neil’s fondest memory of Andrew

—Neil getting Andrew off for the first time

—Neil seeing Andrew naked

—Neil & the sex how-to

—How was the first time

—Where’d it happen?

—When was their first hug?

—“I won’t let you let me be”

—Their roadtrips

—Neil waking Andrew up

—Andrew’s real smile

—How does Andrew show appreciation for Neil

—Their happiest moments

—Does Neil ever make Andrew laugh?

—Does Andrew take comfort in Neil

—Does Andrew get protective/possessive?

—Doesn’t Neil crave affection?

—Andrew re: Neil’s panic attacks

—Media reaction to Andrew/Neil

—Further reaction to Andrew/Neil

—On “accidentally” sitting in laps

—What if Andrew died?

—What if Neil died?

—Reaction to getting hit on by others

—Do they celebrate anniversaries?

—The first time Neil pushes Andrew down

FOXES

—How tall are the Foxes?

—Why is everyone so short?

—Where did their names come from?

—What were their majors?

—What do the Foxes look like?

—What are their Hogwarts houses?

—Reaction to the kidnapping

—Do Neil & Renee become friends?

—What did Allison do with Seth’s urn?

—Nicky’s evolution over the drafts

—Do the Foxes get their skiing trip?

—Does Andrew know Nicky kissed Neil?

—When did Aaron & Katelyn fall for each other?

—How did Andrew and Wymack end up handcuffed together?

—Kevin’s favorite things

—Kevin and Andrew’s on-court kerfuffle

—Dan’s haircut

—Dan & Matt’s relationship

—Dan & Matt’s first kiss

—Matt bouncing back from Columbia

—Matt rooming with the monsters

—The other what-if OT3 aka D/M/N and the dynamic

—Do Allison and Renee have the hots for each other?

—Matt forgiving his father

—Any mistletoe shenanigans?

—Thanksgiving and the Foxes

—Kevin’s best friend

—Janie Smalls

—How did Kevin and Thea meet?

—Foxes’ favorite ice cream flavors

—Kevin & Andrew’s on-court argument

—Foxes’ taste in music

—Kevin’s middle name & drink of choice

—Do Kevin & Neil want to kiss?

—Which Fox would Kevin kiss, then?

—Kevin’s best non-Exy memory

—Allison’s three bets

—Why is Allison’s middle name Jamaica

—Kevin, Andrew, and Neil staying friends

—“Joan of Exy”?

—Can the Foxes sing?

—Some of the Foxes’ previous bets

—Do Nicky & Allison become friends?

—Are Foxes based on RL people?

—Nicky when Neil asks about friendship

—Dan & the monsters in Columbia

—What if Kevin was killed?

—Renee and her near-death experiences

—More background available on Renee?

—Why doesn’t Aaron let the Foxes in?

—Team’s reaction to Drake, Andrew’s reaction to being outed

—Andrew & Aaron’s time with Tilda

—Does Aaron reconcile with Andrew over Tilda?

—Nicky & his parents after Drake

—Foxes thoughts in Baltimore

FOXES POST-TKM

—The Pro Teams

—The Weddings

—Neil as the Best Man?

—Kevin after TKM —Thea, Jean, Foxes, and Riko

—How does Kevin & Wymack’s relationship evolve?

—Renee after TKM

—Nicky after TKM

—Aaron after TKM

—Allison after TKM

—Dan & Matt after TKM

—Dan and the US Court

—Any pro-period scandals?

—Andrew & Neil’s relationship with their team

—Would Neil hold Matt’s children?

—Neil & babysitting the Foxes’ kids

—Which Fox’s child would curse first

THE FUTURE FOXES

—Who is Robin Cross?

—Neil and Jack

—Andrew’s reaction to Neil punching Jack

—Foxes’ reaction to Neil punching

—Kevin and Jack

—Neil’s new recruit

—Andrew and Jack

RIVALS

—Who is Riko Moriyama?

—Riko & Kevin’s evolving relationship

—More about Riko & Kevin’s past

—How did Riko break Kevin’s hand

—Riko’s brutality toward Jean

—Any draft where Riko wasn’t killed?

—Were Riko, Kevin, and Jean involved sexually?

—Does the Fox-Trojan rematch happen? Also how do the Trojans & Jean get along?

—Do Alvarez & Laila (Trojans) have backstories?

—Thea’s number & thoughts on Raven brutality

THE “ADULTS”

—Kayleigh Day & David Wymack

—Abby Winfield & David Wymack

—Wymack’s parents

—Did Wymack cry during the trilogy?

—Did Kayleigh know about the Moriyamas?

Nora & the Foxes

—Fancast and Andrew

—Changing opinion of Foxes over the years

—Bits of the scrapped K/N/A threesome here and here

—The KxAxN AU where Kevin died

—Will there be a sequel?

—What inspired you to develop Exy?

—Fox fanfictions, collected by coldsaturn

—Why a pseudonym?

—What came first, characters or story?

—Were you the artist of the comic version?

—What did the comic-Foxes look like?

—What do you do when you’re not writing?

177 notes · View notes

thisisnotkitty · 7 months

Text

even MORE securitywaiter brainrot. these little fellas just don't leave my head do they

part one part two

-ness is the type of waiter to put the check in front of the baby so everyone can have a good laugh

-actually im kinda stealing this from gtlive (sorry mirror matt) but since sparky's is kinda just full of regulars and townfolk, whenever someone new comes in ness will completely invent a new personality. tourist asks what he studied and he's like "archeology, i actually went to egypt last year and we uncovered a tomb" or a family comes in and he puts on a bit of a southern twang and starts dropping "yall's" (that theater major is really coming in handy)

-his coworkers are used to it by now. idk i just feel like ness is the kinda guy you can't help but be endeared by. he's friendly, he's charming, he's bright

-actually wait that could be a meet cute. abby and mike come in one day and he assumes they're just passing by town so he makes up this whole personality. except they keep coming back. and ness maybe perhaps also thinks mike is quite cute and once he finds out abby isnt his daughter he wants to shoot his shot but he also doesn't even know where to begin explaining that everything mike knows about him is a lie (miscommunication trope i guess?)

-omg ness probably heard about the mall incident. one day he’s talking to mike and he’s like “I remember one day hearing about a mall security who beat up this kid’s father! Isn’t that wild?” meanwhile mike is like, “haha yeah that’s wild” and he’s sweating bullets lmao

-kinda explored this dynamic in the baking fic (shameless self promo) but ness and abby get along swell! almost too well in mike's opinion. he might be a little jealous since abby doesn't always listen to him (sibling dynamic) but ness says it and suddenly abby's like "great idea!"

#i am once again begging for hcs or prompts #theres one in my inbox and im working on that longer 5+1 fic #but im always looking for more content #do u see how many times i pop up in the tag??#i haven't shut up about them since i was aware of this ship #its so bad #the brainrot is real #also if anybody knows how i can fit vanessa in pls let me know #mike schmidt #ness the waiter #fnaf #fnaf movie #securitywaiter #dreamtheory #mike x ness #abby schmidt

260 notes · View notes

shiorimakibawrites · 4 months

Text

The Accident (Part I of Happy Little Accident)

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem! Reader Word Count: 7, 368 Summary: You tripped in the elevator and covered your neighbor in paint. Your ridiculously hot neighbor that you have an enormous crush on. Warning(s): Anxiety, Female Gaze, Referenced Sex, Referenced Character Death, Reference to assumed Attempted Murder, Thoughts about sex Happy Little Accident Masterlist My Masterlist Tag List: @loves0phelia

Please let me know if you want to be added to the tag list.

The Accident

You were painting in Central Park when your phone rang. You let out an irritated huff as you fished your phone out of your apron’s pocket and looked at the caller ID. Abby, your boss at the Daily Grind. It was tempting to ignore the call, pretend like you had forgotten your phone. Very tempting. It was a lovely spring day, one you would much rather spend painting than working. But in the end the knowledge that Abby wasn’t prone to bothering her employees during their off hours without a good reason had you accepting the call.

“Hello?”

“Hi,” Abby said, sounding apologetic. “Can you cover for the afternoon shift today? Peter is in the hospital.”

“The hospital?!” you repeated, feeling immediately concerned. “What happened? Is he okay?”

Peter was one of the cafe’s newer employees. You didn’t know him very well yet but he seemed like a nice kid. If a little absentminded, given how often he arrived for his shift at a rush. And possibly even more clumsy than you are since you had often seen him with bruises which he claimed were the results of tripping over things.

Assuming he wasn’t lying about how he had gotten hurt. Which you thought that he was . . . some of those injuries didn’t look like they had came from a fall . . . It worried you. It worried others at the cafe too. Abby wasn’t usually so forgiving of such frequent tardiness and absences.

“He got hit by a car. Claims that he’s only got minor injuries but the hospital doesn’t want to discharge him without running some tests first. So can you come in today?”

You suppressed the urge to sigh. You didn’t want to sent the wrong message. Because you weren’t actually annoyed with Abby or Peter but the situation. These things happen. Sometimes people got hurt or got sick. And when they did, someone didn’t get their day off. Today was simply your turn.

And well . . . it wasn’t like you couldn’t use the money.

“I’ll be there.”

“Thanks! You’re a lifesaver!”

You ended the call and slipped your phone back into your apron before starting to gather up your things. Your newly acquired shift started at three. It was only a little after noon, plenty of time to get back to your apartment and get ready, but you didn’t like rush. Rushing tended to make you even more of a klutz.

You swirled the used brushes in the water jar, trying to get as much paint off of your brushes before rolling them in a small towel. A second towel, already stained with old paint, was used to wrap up your palette. The paint was thrown back into their carrying box. Which was technically a small tackle box but you had repurposed it for art supplies. The box went into the bottom of your tote bag along with the water jar, double checking that lid was screwed on tightly. You didn’t need to ruin another sketchbook. You squeezed your current sketchbook behind the tackle box. Next went your pencil case, followed by the towels and their respective cargo. Now the only thing left was your painting and the portable easel.

You removed the painting from the easel, careful to avoid the spots where the paint had spilled over onto the tacking edge. Your fingers already had enough paint on them. The painting was propped against a tree, fingers crossed for two things. One that the wind wouldn’t pick up and send your painting flying. And two, a police officer wouldn’t start yelling at you for it. You didn’t think using the tree as a momentary support while you packed up violated any park rules but you weren’t entirely sure. You had read the park rules but they were written like a legal document . . . which it probably was . . . but that made you feel like you probably weren’t understanding it right. After all, you weren’t a lawyer.

Luck seemed to be with you. You were able to get easel broken down and put away without incident. You swung your bag into your shoulder before picking up your painting. After making sure you had a good grip on the stretcher and the tacking edge, you took a quick look around to make sure you weren’t forgetting anything. Then you started making your way home.

Your lucky streak continued. You didn’t drop anything. No one dumped into the wet canvas or you while you were walking. The subway was busy as usual but not packed to the gills. Your feet resisted the urge to get tangled up in some random piece of debris. Or your own feet. Or the absolutely nothing that you somehow managed to trip over sometimes . . .

In hindsight, you should have realized that it was too good to last.

Things began to go awry when you were waiting for the elevator to arrive. You looked down and saw a tube of paint in your aprons’ pockets instead of the tackle box where it belonged. Normally, you’d shrug and try to remember to put it away later but it looked like the cap hadn’t been screwed back on correctly. Your frown deepened after you transferred your painting to one hand and realized that the cap was loose. Loose enough that it was a minor miracle that it hadn’t fallen off somewhere between the park and here . . . you hoped the paint hadn’t gotten dried out . . .

You heard the elevator dings its arrival as you pulled the paint out of your pocket. Trying to one-handedly shift the tube so its cap could be gripped between your fingers and twisted close, you didn’t look when you heard the elevator door slide open. You just moved forward. And immediately tripped over . . . something . . . you had no idea what.

You just knew that you were falling, that you had lost your grip on your painting as your hands instinctively rose to protect your head from the oncoming impact. An impact that never came. Someone caught you before you could hit the floor. Unfortunately the hand holding the paint had squeezed down, spraying paint on yourself and the chest of your rescuer.

It was like a train wreck. You didn’t want to look but you always couldn’t tear your eyes away from it. You stared in horror the giant splash in the middle, the magenta color of the paint shockingly bright against the light gray suit, white dress shirt, and blue tie . . . Your eyes darted to the array of smaller droplets that radiated outward like shrapnel . . . you raised your eyes with the growing dread. Because you recognized that suit and tie, that broad chest . . .

Sure enough, when you looked up, you were greeted with the very surprised face of Matt Murdock. You felt your heart sink. Of course it was Matt. It couldn’t have been someone else. Anyone else. Preferably a random stranger that you would never see again. But no . . . it had to be your neighbor. It had to the man you had developed an enormous crush on.

Your face felt like it was on fire. You wanted the earth to open up and swallow you. You wanted to cry. Matt returning your feelings had always been a long shot . . . but now? There was no chance. You had turned out of his nice suits into a terrible Jackson Pollock . . . you were going to be lucky if he ever talked to you again . . .

You don’t know when you started apologizing. One minute, you were frozen in humiliated shock, the next increasingly frantic words started spilling out of your mouth. What words you couldn’t say. You couldn’t hear anything past your heart pounding in your ears . . .

A hand cupping your cheek was so startling that it immediately pierced the panic clouding your mind. Big, warm hand . . . you blinked and realized that someone was speaking to you. A familiar deep, soft-spoken voice . . .

“. . . shh, shh, sweetheart, it’s okay . . .”

Sweetheart?! You would hardly believe your own ears. But that was definitely Matt’s voice, his face that you were looking at, and those oh-so-kissable lips were moving . . .

This wasn’t the first time that Matt had called you sweetheart. He had been doing that since the first time you meet. If literally running into someone counts as meeting them. You would like to say no but it wasn’t like your second encounter with your then new neighbor had gone much better. You weren’t always a klutz around him but your bouts of clumsiness did occurred around him with embarrassing regularity.

And provided he was nearby when it happened, Matt always caught you when you started falling . . . so finding yourself in his arms also happened on a regular basis.

This had some upsides. For one, it gave you an appreciation for how much muscle must be hiding under those suits of his. Because he never had any trouble catching you or helping you get back onto your own feet. There was something very hot about the way he could lift you up like you weighted nothing. For another, he is very warm. Which had been especially nice during the recent autumn and winter months. And he smelled good. Like plain soap, ink, paper, and something woodsy like sandalwood with fainter notes of leather, cooper, and something else familiar but that you couldn’t quite remember what it was or where you had smelled it.

On the downside, you were never in his arms for very long. Certainly not long enough to really enjoy being held by those strong arms. He’d catch you, make sure you were steady on your feet again, then his arms would slide away and he stepped back. Taking all of his warmth and good smells with him. Which was always a little disappointing even if you did appreciated that he didn’t assume that he had permission to hold you longer than was absolutely necessary. And that he didn’t use those moments as an excuse to get handsy. Which you knew some people would have.

Further on the downside, being in his arms for any length of time made it very hard to pretend that he didn’t get you all hot and bothered. That having his warm breath brush against your neck and ear when he said something like ‘Careful, sweetheart’ didn’t make the skin there prickle and the rest of you shudder. Or, last week, when your shirt had gotten ridden up, that feeling those callused fingers against your bare skin didn’t make you shiver. Or the absolute worst, when you had to act like you hadn’t just been touching yourself while fantasizing about him, that you hadn’t just been moaning his name, that being in his arms hadn’t renewed the heat between your legs . . .

Those moments, it was really difficult to stop yourself from doing something crazy. Like ask him if you can find out if those pouty lips are soft as they looked . . . or if how much of that beautiful ass you could fit in your hands . . .

You suppressed the urge to groan. Serena, your best friend in the world, was right. You needed to get laid. Because even at the most embarrassing moments of your life, when you were half-considering changing your name and moving somewhere far away, you still couldn’t keep your mind out of the gutter.

Your imagination was out of control. It kept trying to convince you of the wildest things. Like that there was something more to the way his fingers had rubbed that little sliver of bare skin last week than just some mild curiosity when his hands didn’t encounter the expected shirt material. Or those tightening grips on your waist was anything other than making sure he wasn’t about to drop you. Those moments when his voice went deeper and huskier weren’t due to attraction but Matt was obviously coming down with a cold or something.

You ignored the grumbling inner voice that pointed out, aside from when he had the misfortune to get stuck in the elevator with that guy from the third floor who smelled like he bathed in cheap cologne, you had yet to see Matt so much as sneeze. Or that none of those moments had overlapped with the times Matt had looked ill – tired and moving like his body ached.

You weren’t going to get your hopes up. Matt was way out of your league. So far out that you weren’t even playing the same sport. He was incredibly good-looking, easily one of the most handsome men you had ever meet. You were the textbook definition of Plain Jane. Not ugly but not beautiful either. He was confident, outgoing, and charming. You were anxious, shy, and awkward. He was a lawyer with a successful law firm. You were an artist whose work didn’t sell well enough to make a living off of it. Hence the waitress/barista job at the Daily Grind.

Maybe not the most sensible job choice for a shy klutz but there were only so many options for someone with an art degree. Plus you had been working there since college and Abby had displayed remarkable patience for your clumsiness (and the periodic broken dishes that went with it). Mostly because you were otherwise reliable. And while you would never enjoy making small talk with strangers, you could do with a smile. It helped the majority of the regulars were nice . . .

“Sweetheart?”

Any blood that managed to drain out of your cheeks immediately flooded back. You were really batting a thousand today. First you spray him with paint, then you babble incoherently at him, then you stand there like a moron ignoring him for god only knew how long. If Matt didn’t already think you were awkward and weird, he certainly did now.

“Sorry,” you said, not sure of what to say.

He smiled at you. That sweet one that seemed . . . .dare you say it? . . . fond? Which did nothing to diminish the flush in your face. Neither did the little circles his thumb was rubbing into your right cheek or the reassuring squeeze from the hand at your waist.

He’s just trying to keep me calm, you told yourself sternly. It didn’t mean anything. He just didn’t need you panicking again. Lawyers were busy people. He had probably had things to do and didn’t want to waste anymore time on you.

“And to answer your earlier question, no, I’m not going to sue you.”

You had actually said that? Out loud? You closed your eyes and let out a low groan. Everytime you think this situation couldn’t get more embarrassing . . . that idea of moving some remote mountain which hopefully had no insanely hot lawyers living on it was sounding better and better. The only thing thing that would have been worse was if your word-vomit had decided to detail just how attractive you found him. Then, in addition to everything else today, you’d have to listen to him say ‘I’m flattered but . . .’ while your heart shattered into a million pieces . . .

“Sorry,” you repeated. Because what else you could you say to something like that?

“No need to apologize again, sweetheart,” he said as his hand slide off of your face before joining its fellow in helping you get back on your own feet. Then, as usual, his arms pulled away entirely and he took a small step back. As usual, you told yourself that you weren’t disappointed or felt colder. Both were a lie.

“It was an accident,” he continued. “You said you were sorry. No harm done.”

You couldn’t stop your eyes from flickering around his suit. The mess hadn’t miraculously disappeared. It was still here.

“No harm?” you repeated. “You’ve got magenta splattered all over your suit!”

“Which one is magenta?”

“What?”

“I don’t think I remember what magenta looks like,” Matt said, sounding thoughtful. “Can you describe it for me?”

“Er . . . pink?” you said, trying to think of how to describe it. “This particular shade is darker than bubblegum, more purplish-red? Like some plums just under the skin or a pomegranate?”

“Sounds pretty,” he said. “Foggy has been telling me that I need to wear more color.”

“I think he probably meant new clothes that were different colors, not paint splattered on your existing clothes,” you said slowly, unsure of what to make of this conversation. It was not turning out at all like you would have expected it to.

He grinned. “Most likely but he never actually said clothes. Just more color. He knows better than to leave the terms of a contract that vague.”

While you didn’t know Foggy Nelson very well, you had the feeling he would not be impressed. You had also seem him and Matt needling each other at Josie’s often enough to picture the irritated look he would level at his partner if he returned to work looking like this and tried to make that argument. The image was so absurd that you had to giggle.

“Not sure that is a winning argument, Mr. Murdock,” you said,

“Sure it is,” he said. “Any ambiguity in a contract favors the party that didn’t write it. Foggy wrote the contract without defining his terms. So I am free to interpret those terms as anyone might reasonably expect them to mean.”

Which only made you giggle even harder. He was being so silly. “It’s not very professional?”

“Regretfully, I have to agree,” he said, sounding almost like he genuinely disappointed about that. Provided you couldn’t see the cheeky grin on his face. “Will I need anything special to remove the paint?”

“No,” you said, silently thanking Past You for choosing to work with acrylics today instead of oils. The faded spots the turpentine would leave would be less noticeable than magenta but still probably not something he wanted. Also even the low-odor version didn’t smell good. You didn’t know if there was any truth to that whole ‘blind people’s other senses get stronger’ thing but real or not, Matt seemed to have a pretty sensitive nose. “Acrylics are water-based. As long as it is still wet, warm water and soap is enough.”

“See? No harm done,” he said, giving that flirty smile that always made your heart go pitter-patter. Even when you tried to tell yourself that it didn’t mean anything. Matt was a charming guy who flirted a little with everyone. You had seem him get a little flirty with Mrs. Gonzales, the third resident of the sixth floor. Who was, as she pointedly reminded him, old enough to be his grandmother and scolded him for shameless flattery. She had rolled her eyes a little when he retorted the truth wasn’t flattery but did seem pleased. Pleased enough to make him tamales. Which honestly made you a little jealous. The tamales you had bought from her at during the holidays had been really good . . .

Serena thought Matt wasn’t flirting with you just to flirt. That he actually liked you. But she was your best friend. It was her job to believe that you were wonderful and agree that the hot guy you had a crush on was into you. And if it turned out that he wasn’t . . . well, then he was an idiot wasn’t worth your time. You wanted to believe her . . . you wanted that to true so badly . . .

But you had seen the women Matt used to bring home. And the ones who flirted with him at Josie’s. Beautiful, self-assured women with successful careers. They were everything that you weren’t. Granted, you hadn’t seen one of his paramours leaving or arriving at the building for a while. And the only ones you had seen him leaving Josie’s with lately were his friends.

Or you. Which you refused to read anything into either. Matt just didn’t think you walking home alone at night was safe. And it wasn’t. The Kitchen might have Daredevil, its guardian in red leather, but he couldn’t be everywhere. Couldn’t save everyone through if the rumors were to be believed, it certainly seemed like he tried.

Regardless of his reason, you always ended up agreeing because you were too weak to say no to spending just a little more time with him. And it wasn’t like you were making him go out of his way since you both lived in the same building . . .

The point was that Matt would the same thing for anyone. Even someone who really didn’t need it. Like Jessica Jones. Through he claimed that was just to save himself or Foggy from needing to make another late-night trip to the police station because she had punched some creep into a wall. While he agreed that yes, they deserved it for treating someone like that but the police didn’t see that way, Jessica . . .

“As long as it’s still wet,” you repeated. “It’s harder to remove once its’ dry.”

“How does that take?”

“About half an hour.”

“Good thing I’m so close to home then.” Then he seemed to hesitate. “Can I ask you for a favor?”

“Absolutely,” you said, cringing a little at how eager you sounded. But you had gotten paint all over him. A favor was the least you could do.

“Can you help me get this cleaned up?” he said, gesturing toward the paint. He gave you a self-deprecating smile. “Otherwise I might miss a spot.”

“I can do that,” you said. You had been intending to offer help anyway. You had made the mess. You should help clean it up.

He frowned suddenly, his head tilting to one side. “Are you sure? I’m not keeping you from anything?”

“No,” you said. “I don’t need to be at work until three and it’s . . .”

You tried to check the time on your watch but it had a smear of paint across the face. Unfortunately the hands were hidden by said smear of paint. “Probably not three.”

Matt’s lips twitched. “Problem with your watch?”

“Paint is hiding the hands.”

He gave an amused grin as he ran his fingers around the edge of his watch. “The downside of wearing non-tactile watches. It’s a quarter til one.”

“Plenty of time,” you said. And even if it wasn’t . . . Abby was a reasonable person. She would completely understand not leaving any neighbor, let alone your blind neighbor, to clean this up.

He smiled before reaching down to pick up his fallen cane. You felt your face get warm again. Both because you just realized what you had gotten tripped over (which made you feel like a jerk) and because that action had pulled those trousers taut over his ass (which made you feel . . . other things). But you couldn’t stop yourself from looking. Not when you had a front row seat to one of the best asses in America. Possibly the world.

Matt couldn’t possibly know that you were checking out his ass but that smug little smirk that he flashed in your direction made you feel like he did. You averted your eyes and tried to find a distraction. Before thinking about his ass (or other body parts) got you worked up. More worked up. Which not only would be awkward but make you nervous and prone to say something embarrassing.

Then you remembered your painting. You had dropped it earlier. Where was . . . you let out a distressed groan as you picked it up. The good news was that your painting hadn’t landed paint-side down. Which had saved the mostly dried paint from smearing or chipping. The bad news that hadn’t escaped The Magenta. It didn’t get hit as nearly badly as Matt but there was still a giant splat right in the middle of the lake . . .

“What’s wrong?”

“There is a giant glob of magenta in the middle of the lake,” you said.

“The lake?”

“In my painting,” you said. “I was doing one of the Bow Bridge in Central Park.”

“Can you fix it?”

“Maybe,” you said, looking at the mess and trying to think of how to incorporate the random splatters into the image. You could remove some of it without taking off the underlying layers but not all of it. That would have to be incorporated somehow . . . Maybe a boat? Or a float . . . some of the smaller ones could be turned into leaves if you switched the setting to autumn just as the leaves were turning . . . or a flowering tree with pink blossoms . . .

“We don’t make mistakes, just happy little accidents,” you reminded your inner perfectionist.

“That sounds familiar.”

“It’s something Bob Ross said a lot,” you said. “He was–”

“That guy on PBS who painted the landscapes?” Matt said. “Soft-spoken, sometimes had a squirrel in his pocket and talked about happy trees?”

“That’s the one,” you said. “The Joy of Painting. I watched it religiously as a kid. How about you?”

An odd little smile spread across Matt’s face. “Not often enough to qualify as religious but you could call us regular watchers. My dad wasn’t much of an art guy but he found the show relaxing . . . and it was quiet. I could turn it on in the morning without waking him up after he had worked late.”

He sounded nostalgic, like these were fond memories but also deeply sad. Then you remembered that Matt’s father was dead. Killed when he was a little boy. Which you only knew about because you had once given into temptation and googled Matt Murdock. Most of the search results had been about his law firm and the Castle trial but further down the page, articles about the accident that blinded him and his father’s death had also appeared. But by then, you had felt guilty enough about snooping into his life that you hadn’t read any those of articles beyond their headlines.

“Did you ever try to follow along?” you asked softly.

“A few times with the watercolors from my school supplies,” he said. “I was terrible at it but my dad hung up every picture on the fridge like it was the Mona Lisa.”

“Mine did that too,” you said. “My mom might still have a few of them tucked away with the baby pictures, waiting to embarrass me with them.”

He chuckled. “Did you ever fall asleep watching the show?”

You laughed. “Yes. Usually after I had stayed up too late reading.”

“Same,” he said, then gestured to the control panel. “Shall we go up?”

“Yes, we shall,” you said, a little amazed at how well this was going, despite the mishap. And that the elevator had remained here at the ground floor for this long. Probably it was the middle of the day and therefore most of the other tenants were either at work or school right now. As the elevator rose, you tried to think of something to talk about. You didn’t mind quiet but your earlier anxiety about his reaction had been replaced by your more usual nerves at being around the man you had spent almost half a year pining over.

Nervous You tended to be a chatterbox with chronic foot-in-mouth disease. Nervous You might blurt out that you liked him. Might detail how you wanted to go on dates, snuggle on the couch, hold hands while you took long walks, call each other by cliché nicknames like honey or dear. Basically be one of those disgustingly adorable couples . . . And behind closed doors, mind-blowing sex. The kind of sex that would leave you walking funny with a big smile on your face . . .

That thought alone made your cheeks warm. Among other places. Maybe work? Work should be a safe enough topic. Nothing naughty about work . . .

“What brings you home this early?” you asked, injecting as much cheer as possible in your voice to disguise your nerves. “Does no one need lawyering today?”

He chuckled. “No, we still have plenty of people who needed lawyering. I just forget my phone this morning and this was the first chance I’ve had to retrieve it.”

You hummed in acknowledgment as the elevator dinged your arrival to the sixth floor. The doors slide open and you walked out. Or rather you tried. But apparently you just had no luck with elevators today because you managed to slip on nothing. For the second time today, you started to fall. Only backwards this time.

And despite what happened the last time, Matt still caught you.

“Sorry,” you said, feeling the earlier flush to your cheeks deepen.

“No need to apologize, sweetheart,” he said. “I like having a beautiful girl in my arms.”

Which only made the warmth in your face start to spread down your neck. Even if he didn’t meant it, it was nice to be told that you were beautiful. You couldn’t help liking it. You did your best to ignore the nasty voice in your head – the one that sounded a lot like those awful girls in high school who had bullied you – saying how would Matt even know that you were beautiful or not . . . he was blind . . .

Your more optimistic side – which sounded like Serena – pointed out that for obvious reasons, that Matt was unlikely to find someone attractive based solely on their appearance . . . so maybe he really did find you beautiful . . .

You blamed those pernicious thoughts for making you feel like there was hint of hesitation, of reluctance, in Matt’s hands as they slide back off of your waist once you were standing upright again. But not matter how many times you told yourself that it was just your overactive imagination . . . part of you couldn’t help but hope.

“Make yourself comfortable,” Matt said as you followed him into his apartment. While he disappeared down a hallway, you propped your unfinished painting against a wall before slipping your tote off your shoulder with a sigh of relief. It wasn’t very heavy but those almost falls had jerked it and its contains around, making the straps dig into your shoulder. After sitting down the tote, you prodded the area. It was a little sore but it lacked the tenderness you associated with oncoming bruises.

You walked toward the kitchen and looked around, curious. In some respects, his apartment was a lot like yours. Both displayed the buildings’ previous life as factory in the exposed brick, scuffed hardwood floors, and visible HVAC and pipes. Both had large windows that let in a lot of natural light if even the old glass was a little wavy or different colored. Both had galley-style kitchens and generally open floor plan. Both of you seemed to have opted for a mismatched collection of secondhand furniture in either earth tones or neutral colors. But that was where the similarities ended.

The first and most noticeable difference was size. His was a lot bigger than yours. Which honestly you had expected, knowing very well that your side of the sixth floor had been turned into two units whereas his was left as one. Yours didn’t have access to the roof but in all honesty, you were fine with that. You weren’t afraid of high places in and of themselves but you were afraid of falling from high places. The outside of your windows wasn’t dominated by The Billboard. Which even during the day looked rather bright.

Matt’s apartment struck you as unfinished, like there was something missing but it took you a moment to figure out what. There was nothing decorative. The walls were bare and furniture were bare. It was sharp contrast to your place where the walls had been turned into a gallery for your unsold paintings and the furniture was festooned with the efforts of Serena’s knitting or your embroidery. You wondered if this was due to preference (Matt was simply a minimalist who considered decorative items to be annoying clutter) or to circumstance (Matt hadn’t found anything that he liked yet).

Another difference was the level of tidiness. You weren’t outright messy. You cleaned up after yourself. But there was always a certain amount of controlled chaos. For example, you were just as likely to find your pincushion and scissors on the kitchen table as in the sewing bag where they belonged. Or how your books often ended up stacked on the floor by your reading chair instead of being put back on the bookshelf.

Matt’s place, by contrast, looked very well organized. Everything obviously had a place and was always returned to its spot when not in use. Which made sense when you thought about it. No one wanted to go on a scavenger hunt every time they needed something. And given how busy Matt was, he also didn’t have time to be doing that.

Plus there were things that no one would want to get mixed up. Like grabbing the shampoo bottle when you wanted the mouthwash. Yes, there were other things that would clue him in before he inadvertently washed out his own mouth with soap. But, as your grandmother liked to say, an ounce of prevention was worth a pound of cure.

“Will any soap work?”

You jumped at a little at Matt’s voice. He sounded close. Much closer than you would have thought he could get to you without you noticing. Especially on these old hardwood floors which had so many places that creaked or groaned when stepped on.

“Sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“It’s . . .” you started as you turned toward the sound of his voice. And promptly felt your intended words get tangled up in your throat. Your heart began to race as blood rushed back to your cheeks at the sight before you.

Your eyes greedily took in his broad shoulders, then down arms so thick that you doubted that you would be able to fully wrap your hand around it. Back up and across to the well-defined pectorals, then down through to sculpted abdominals until they disappeared into the waistband of his trousers. All covered in a skin that looked like it was as soft as satin.

You swallowed hard. You had known for a while that Matt had some muscle. He had saved you from your own clumsiness too often for you not to know that. But this . . . you had no idea he was hiding all this under those fancy suits of his . . . It was like someone had brought the statue of a Greek god or Michelangelo’s David to life . . . and then someone had apparently convinced him to put on pants. Whoever that idiot was should be fired . . . because if the rest of him looked this good . . .

“Sweetheart?”

Once again, you jumped at his voice. You raised your eyes up to his face. Your breath caught for the second time. Because Matt wasn’t wearing his dark glasses. You had never seen him without those glasses. Predictably, his eyes were just as pretty as the rest of him. Big, brown eyes sparkling with amusement and confidence. It matched that cocky little smirk he was sporting. The same one he had given you earlier. Only this time, you were positive that he knew that you were staring.

But it was so hard not to . . . he was so beautiful . . . it filled with you competing urges. The artist longed for your drawing pencils and a couple of hours to sketch. You weren’t sure you had the talent to fully capture his beauty but you would love to try. The woman, however, wanted him to fuck you. For him be inside you. Cock, fingers, tongue . . . your cunt didn’t care which. Any or all of them would do.

Watching that pink tongue dart out from between those oh-so-kissable lips before disappearing back inside his mouth did nothing to quell your arousal. Nor did the almost hungry look in his eyes. All it did was make you think about all things a man could do with his tongue if he was so inclined . . .

You dug your hands into your jeans to keep them to yourself. Silently you reminded yourself why you had to control the later impulse. First – Matt wasn’t your boyfriend. He was your neighbor and maybe a friend. Second – even if you were his lover and consented to having sex, neither of you had time today. He needed to go back to his office and you had to be the cafe at three. Abby would understand you being late because you were helping Matt clean up The Magenta. She would be far less sympathetic toward hanky-panky induced tardiness. So as much as you would like him to bend you over his kitchen table, you had to ignore that particular desire.

As for the artistic urge . . . since he didn’t seem to hate you for The Magenta, maybe he would agree to model for you? And you were friends of a sort. Friends could ask friends to model for them, right?

“L-liquid soap,” you said, doing your best to sound normal instead of incredibly turned on. “I-I found it easier to work with when cleaning up paint.”

Matt didn’t look like he was convinced by your non-existent acting skills. But he went along with the change of subject. Then gave you another heart attack by revealing that his shirt and tie were silk while his jacket was wool with a silk lining. You had no idea how to clean paint off of those without damaging them . . . isn’t stuff like that dry clean only?

The answer was yes and no. The shirt was made of a type of washable silk that he could launder at home – on the gentle cycle with mild soap. The suit and the tie, however, were both dry clean only. But Matt knew how to prevent stains from getting set in his fancy clothes and you knew how to handle paint. Between the two of you, you worked a plan that should get the paint off while preventing damage to his clothes.

Using an old gift card that you used as a painting tool as a scrapper, you removed the bulk of the paint from the tie and jacket while Matt used his bottle of liquid dish-soap and water to wash his shirt in the sink. Then, you dampened a white washcloth with lukewarm water, added a tiny amount of the soap, before dabbing the affected areas. Before dabbing again with a separate cloth that was just dampened with water, then carefully blotting with another washcloth that was completely dry.

You tried to keep your mind on the task in front of you but kept getting distracted. By his . . . everything. You wanted to trace every muscle with your fingers. Or your tongue. Either would be enjoyable. Or both. Both was good . . . the only thing that wasn’t making you press your thighs together in an effort to relieve the ache in your cunt were the scars.

Not because you thought his scars were ugly. The scars were like kintsugi. The healed but visible damage made the person more beautiful, not less. But because the scars worried you. It looked like someone had tried very hard to kill Matt.

You hadn’t realized that being a lawyer was so dangerous . . . but then, Nelson & Murdock had gone up against some powerful people. People like Fisk. Had Fisk or someone like him sent someone after Matt? You glanced at his hands. He had the same calluses on his knuckles as your ex who was a boxer. Did Matt know how to box? Was that how he had survived the obvious attempt on his life?

You were curious but realized that some of the answers you wanted might require a lengthy conversation. Which you didn’t have time for. Assuming Matt was even willing to answer those questions. He might not be. Which was fine. Trauma was rather personal and you didn’t really know each other.

You returned to your task. Despite your frequent distraction, soon the clothes were cleaned to the best of your ability. All three items were hung on hangers to dry in the case of the shirt or await a trip to the dry cleaners for the other two. Something that you offered to pay for.

“No need for you to do that, sweetheart. It’s about time for that suit to go to the cleaners anyway.”

“But it’s my mess,” you protested.

You didn’t win the argument. But it wasn’t a fair fight. First, he was a lawyer. He argued with people for a living. You painted or served food and drinks. Second, he still hadn’t put on a shirt. It was very distracting. And he knew it. His opposition in court was so lucky that he had to keep all his clothes on in the courtroom. Otherwise, they’d might never win.

“Stupid, sexy Murdock,” you muttered quietly under your breath as you washed your brushes and palette. Not quietly enough because he laughed.

“I’m sexy?” Matt asked. Warmth flooded your face. Judging by that cocky smirk, he knew the answer to that question. Yes, absolutely yes. But you were absolutely not going to say that.

“I plead the Fifth,” you said. Which only made him laugh harder.

He opened his mouth, probably to tease you some more, when his phone started ringing out, “Foggy, Foggy, Foggy.”

“Sorry, I’ve got to take this,” he said.

“Go ahead,” you said quickly.

He flashed you a smile before answering his phone with a “What’s up, Fogs?”

You put away your things while Matt talked to his partner. From the sound of it, he was explaining why retrieving his phone was taking so long. A check on your watch – now cleaned of paint – warned you that you really needed to leave now if you wanted to be ready for work on time. You swung your tote up onto your shoulder.

Then found yourself in a quandary. It was rude to interrupt someone while they were on the phone but it was also rude to leave without saying good-bye. But it wasn’t like you could go just wave good-bye.

“Matt?” you called out.

“Hang on Foggy,” he said, pulling the phone away from his ear. “Yes, sweetheart?”

“I’ve got to go,” you said. “I’ll see you later?”

“You’ll have to. I can’t.”

For a moment, that answer confused you. But only for a moment. Blind joke. Not the first one he had made around you. It wouldn’t be the last. He seemed rather fond of them. Well, it was his disability. It certainly wasn’t your place to tell him that he couldn’t make jokes about it if he wanted to.

Besides sometimes the looks on people’s faces when he made them were very funny.

“Left myself wide open for that one, didn’t I?” you said.

“Yep,” he said. He looked very pleased with himself. “But yes, I’ll see you later.”

That made you smile. “Bye, Matt.”

“Bye, sweetheart,” he said before returning to his phone call. You closed the door to his apartment as quietly as you could, then made you way across the hall toward your own apartment. Time get for work.

Step one – a cold shower.

Notes

There are portable easels that are designed to be collapsed down and easily carried. I have one. Some of them come with an attached box that is meant to carry paint, brushes, and whatever else you need but that type is more expensive (about 70 dollars on the cheaper end) than one that is just the easel (which is about 20). Reader has a limited art budget and those fifty bucks she didn’t spent on an easel can buy a lot of paint and canvas.

I’ve found that tackle boxes and tool boxes make great carrying cases for arts and crafts supplies. The divided trays are very useful if the creative thing you are doing involves a lot of little pieces or tools like beading or jewelry making.

Reader took the subway for part of her journey because, according to what I could find, getting from Hell’s Kitchen to Central Park via subway takes about 14 minutes while walking that same distance would take about 40 minutes. So the subway it was.

Magenta is, generally speaking, purplish red color. The shades vary between more pink, more red, or more purple. Even paint doesn’t always agree. I have one set on acrylic paints that labels a color as ‘light magenta’ while a different set calls the same color ‘magenta’ and third just says ‘pink.’

Jackson Pollock (1912 – 1956) was an American artist who was part of the abstract expressionist movement. He is best known for his ‘drip’ technique where he would pour or splash liquid house-paint with frenetic movement onto the canvas which was laying flat on the floor. In some ways, his work reminds me of acrylic pouring which looks very cool but also very messy.

I mean no disrespect to those with an art degree. I started off majoring in fine arts and part of me wishes that I had stuck with it despite the challenges. One of my professors recommended getting your masters if you were going to major in art simply because then you could get teaching jobs in many places.

That contract thing is true but I’m not a lawyer and have never taken Contracts 101. Always get your legal advice from actual lawyers.

Turpentine is used to clean paint brushes and other tools when using oil paint. A low odor version is highly recommended but remember to only use it in a well-ventilated place as the fumes are toxic. It is also very flammable. You can use it to get oil paint off of your skin but it is very drying and probably isn’t be safe to use on places like your face. The skin there easily absorbs things (which is the primary reason that make-up has go through FDA approval).

For the record, blind people don’t have better senses than everyone else. They just pay more attention to the information from their other senses provide, things that us sighted people tend to ignore. And arguably have more practice identifying different sounds, smells, etc than someone who largely ignores that input.

While I cannot say that this happens in NYC, as I have never lived there, where I grew up (American southwest) and where I live now (Florida), the grandmas and aunties in the Latin community make and sell tamales during the winter holiday season. Maybe for some extra spending money for said holidays. In my experience, they are always excellent. I almost don’t consider it Christmas without some tamales.

The reason Reader feels like a jerk for tripping over Matt’s cane is that messing with someone’s mobility aid and/or not giving them enough space to use it is a dick move.

The Bow Bridge is a bridge in Central Park. You have probably seen it before since it is pretty popular for movies and television. Probably because it looks perfect for your sappy romantic moments, dramatic love confession, meet-cutes, etc. It also helps that it looks just as nice surrounded by leafy trees as it does covered in snow.

Bob Ross (1942 – 1995) was an American painter who was the host of an instructional art show called The Joy of Painting, which aired from 1983 until 1994, on PBS (public broadcasting station) in the US but also in similar public stations around the world. You can find the episodes on YouTube.

According to the internet, you can spot clean wool, silk, and other such fabrics like how Reader does without damaging the fabric. But it was the internet so take that with a generous portion of salt.

Yes, I do use an old gift card when I paint. To make smallish straight lines, very handy for fences and rain effects. I cannot speak for every artist but my painting tools aren’t limited to brushes and painting knives.

Kintsugi (“golden joinery”) is the Japanese art of repairing broken pottery with lacquer that has been dusted or mixed with gold, silver, or platinum. The point is not to hide the damage but highlight it, to treat the breakage and repair as simply part of the object’s history. And that having such a history makes it more valuable, not less.

#fan fic #daredevil #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x fem! reader #matt murdock x you #happy little accident series

199 notes · View notes

jtl-fics · 10 months

Text

Aaron likes FF.

He’s a good friend to have and he’s been doing Aaron a huge favor this semester by tutoring Katelyn in German. He’d tried to tutor her but his teaching style and her learning had not been very compatible and it had been leading to some fighting between the two of them. Nicky had been the one to suggest that FF was a pretty good teacher and he wouldn’t take any sort of advantage of the inherent romantic setting of being a tutor (whatever the hell that meant).

FF was a good tutor.

Aaron liked to hang out while Katelyn and FF had their tutoring sessions and FF’s gaze never strayed down from Katelyn’s face when he was talking to her. He gave her German children’s books that he himself had used to better understand the written language and Aaron quite enjoyed the nights he spent over at Katelyns where she’d clumsily make her way through them as they were winding down for bed.

There were other things to like about FF.

He liked how FF could disagree with him without fighting with him. He liked how FF had the confidence to just leave any situation he didn’t like. He liked how FF sang to himself when he was distracted (he had a pretty good voice). He liked how FF could watch horror movies without blinking. He liked how he could sit in easy silence with FF and the two of them could just do their own thing. He liked how bad FF was at video games.

He liked how FF never confused Aaron for Andrew no matter what they were wearing or if they were aiming to confuse people. FF never said how he managed it when even Matt and Nicky got them confused every once in a while but FF never failed to know which twin he was talking to. He also played along when they were going about messing with the other non-FF freshmen by vacating the area instead of alerting anyone to them having switched.

(Aaron is completely unaware of an entirely uncomfortable talk that Nicky has had with FF where he asked FF how he could tell Andrew and Aaron apart. The answer was that initially Aaron always had a very tiny pen mark on his ear somewhere because he had a habit of putting his pen behind his ear. The answer in the long run was that they stood slightly differently and Andrew had a wrinkle that Aaron didn’t. Nicky had asked why FF was looking so closely at his cousins, “Well, I thought that Andrew might swap with Aaron at some point to lure me into a false sense of security and then he’d kill me.” FF answers unaware of why Nicky went still, “I realize now that Andrew isn’t like that.” FF had rushed to assure.

“Yeah…” Nicky had said awkwardly.

“Really, I honestly don’t think Andrew would pretend to be Aaron to kill someone.” FF had said again.)

The thing Aaron probably liked the most though was how happy his cousin was to have someone who was ‘his’ person. Andrew had Kevin and Neil, Aaron had Katelyn, and now Nicky had FF. They were hardly separate from the other Foxes nowadays and they roomed with Matt but there was always a difference for their group between ‘family’ and ‘friend’. FF was someone that Nicky had claimed as family and they had all agreed.

Aaron also enjoyed watching how Andrew and Neil both couldn’t fully comprehend how FF had ended up as Nicky’s when they had both made quite a few efforts. Nicky had always just shrugged and said that they’d understand when they were older before heading off to go see FF at Abby’s house as if the rest of them weren’t following right behind him.

FF was healing nicely and would be moving back into the dorms in the next week or so but he still spent a fair bit of time in Aaron’s room. He had heard Nicky talking to Wymack about possibly having him moved into their room which Aaron wouldn’t mind even if it mean that he’d have to do the ‘Smith Shout’ more frequently.

The ‘Smith Shout’ entails walking into rooms that you thought were empty but theoretically they could also contain FF. If you didn’t mind a minor heart attack later then you didn’t need to complete the ‘Smith Shout’ but if you were perhaps…interested in making out with your beautiful girlfriend?

The ‘Smith Shout’ was a must, they were all trying to get better about the levels of hanky and panky that FF was subjected to just because they failed to realize he was right there.

FF never made a big deal about it but it always felt embarrassing when they heard the click of the door as FF left the room they were making out in.

There was no need for the ‘Smith Shout’ today as FF was helping Katelyn with some basic vocabulary and going over conversations and pronunciation with her. Aaron was sitting nearby going over some micro-biology homework when they heard a door slam open down the hall, pounding foot steps, and then their door slammed open to reveal a pale-faced Kevin

“Kevin, what-“

Kevin shushed Aaron before he could ask what was wrong and came into the room and shut the door with shaking hands. His phone was held in his right hand so tightly that his knuckles were white from the strain.

“Lord Moriyama just called me.” Kevin said shaking badly enough that Aaron wondered if he should guide the Striker over to their couch so that he could sit. “He…he let me know that he’s dropped the percentage I owe him to 65%” Kevin’s gaze slid to FF who was sat at the desks with Katelyn still. “He…he said to give you his…regards?” He says.

Aaron’s own gaze whips to FF.

“Ok.” FF says with an awkward shrug.

Aaron almost laughs at the lack of response but he holds it in unsure of how Kevin would take it.

“Kevin, it’s a good thing right?” Aaron says instead.

Kevin looks at him and nods frantically, “Yes. It’s a good thing.” He agrees. “35% makes things so much…so much easier.” Kevin says his shoulders sagging and it always bothers Aaron when he thinks about the deal that Kevin and Neil live under. He knows that Andrew has only been even listening to offers over a certain amount since he plans on helping Neil.

“I’m glad.” FF offers before turning back to Katelyn, “Ok, have you finished reading that book I gave you last week?” He asks apparently more interested in tutoring than in what Lord Moriyama had to say to Kevin.

“Oh, yes!” Katelyn agrees.

Kevin looks at them and Aaron has known Kevin long enough to recognize when he’s thinking about something. He even knows him well enough to sense when he’s thinking about something irritating.

Kevin leaves the room though so Aaron figures that it will be someone else’s problem.

He is, unfortunately, incorrect.

45 minutes later Kevin bursts into the room again and grabs Aaron, “I need your help with something.” He says, hands cold around Aaron’s wrist, and before Aaron can complain he is being dragged out of his room and into the room his brother shares with Neil and Kevin.

“Kevin, what the hell?” Aaron complains finally managing to pull himself out of Kevin’s grasp.

“I’m going to take control of Smith’s recovery.” Kevin says as if that was a normal thing to say, “Lord Moriyama wished him a speedy recovery and…and I owe him.” Kevin admits.

“You don’t need to take control of Smith’s recovery to thank him. You could just thank him?” Aaron points out the obvious answer but as per usual very few members of the Foxes were amiable to hearing the simple solutions that Aaron offered.

“No this is better. He’ll appreciate it more than just a simple thank you.” Kevin dismissed, “Now, do you think I should start with basic protein or more vitamin based smoothies for his recovery?” Kevin asks and only now does Aaron see the grocery bags of fruits, vegetables, and various other things littering the kitchen.

Why the fuck was everyone on this team so damn weird?

It was 20 minutes of Aaron trying to wrangle Kevin away from the weirdest combinations. The only thing that made him feel better was the knowledge that Josten was going to see all of these veggies and probably hiss like a vampire as he backed away from the fridge.

Still, 20 soul crushing minutes and they had a green beverage sitting in the blender that Josten had bought the room his sophomore year for Kevin. “I’ll be asking you and Katelyn for assistance on this project.” Kevin says.

“No thanks.” Aaron says exhausted from the last 20 minutes.

“Then I’ll just do it alone.” Kevin says and Aaron thinks about the various things that Kevin had wanted to put into the smoothie, thinks of FF tutoring Katelyn without asking for anything, and how FF had lied to protect Aaron’s brother even from federal agents when he had nothing to do with the mess of two years ago.

Fuck.

“Fine, I’ll help.” He grits out because he couldn’t leave FF to the nutritional whims of Kevin Day. He already feels bad enough about the drink that FF is about to be subjected to but he can at least stop Kevin from crushing actual multi-vitamins into the drinks and claiming it would make for good ‘texture’.

They come back to the room and Aaron hears Katelyn and FF talking about a new smoothie place that might be good for FF to try, “…have a peanut butter and banana one that would probably be easy on your stomach.” He hears her say unaware of the monstrosity Aaron has just had a hand in creating.

“No need for that.” Kevin says confidence unshaken and undeserved as puts a glass of green juice down in front of FF. “Drink that.” He says.

Aaron is immediately filled with a desperate desire to both apologize and slap the glass out of Kevin’s hand. Inevitable stained carpet be damned.

“Sure.” FF says as he takes hold of the glass.

It feels as Aaron watches it happen in slow motion. He sees Katelyn’s own revolted face and wishes he could tell her that this really was the best he could do in terms of saving FF. FF, unaware of Aaron’s inner turmoil, takes a sip of the green beverage full of Kale, spinach, sprouts, protein powder (plain), and some crazy Chinese health supplement that Kevin swore by but smelled vaguely alcoholic despite Kevin’s INSISTENCE that it was not.

“I know alcohol, this isn’t alcohol.” Kevin had said and honestly it was hard to argue with that logic.

FF brought it to his lips and drank it.

Aaron felt like he should have gotten a garbage bin ready but instead he watches on in horrified awe as FF drains the entire nightmarish glass.

“Cauliflower?” FF asks as he wipes the remnants of the smoothie off of his upper lip.

Aaron’s head whipped towards Kevin who was smiling as he accepted the glass back from Smith, “I’m surprised you would notice.” He says visibly pleased even as Aaron bristles.

“How the fuck did you put cauliflower in there, I was watching you.” He hisses.

“Katelyn texted you, I put it in then.” Kevin shrugs.

Aaron regrets nothing.

***

Kevin continued to hand FF bizarre healthy combinations of fruits, vegetables, and god knows what. Aaron and Katelyn did their best to keep Kevin from going too wild with his purchases but Kevin on a mission was a difficult thing to stop.

It didn’t help that FF accepted any and everything that Kevin handed to him without a single flinch. As far as Aaron knew FF didn’t even know that Kevin had decided to take control of his recovery and diet for the foreseeable future.

He had been making a run to buy Katelyn some tampons when he found FF in the stomach pain aisle looking between a two-pack or an extra large bottle of Pepto Bismol. “Smiths, if Kevin’s god awful smoothies are hurting your stomach you can just tell him.” Aaron says as he drags FF out of the aisle knowing that Pepto Bismol would not be good. “You can’t take anything with aspirin. Nicky had me read your care instructions to him in plain English I know.” He says.

FF didn’t say anything as he let himself be dragged to the register where the girl there seemed surprise that FF wasn’t buying anything. “Nothing for you?” She asks looking at FF.

FF nodded, “Nothing for me.” He agrees.

“I’m glad! You deserve it!” She says smiling as if she hadn’t just said something that felt wildly rude to say to a customer.

Aaron grabbed FF by the arm, scowled at the cashier, and dragged him out.

“They don’t hurt my stomach. I ended up there more on auto-pilot than anything.” FF says and Aaron remembers the conversation they had been having in the stomach relief section. “I think what I had yesterday was a bit too much.” He admits and Aaron rolls his eyes but doesn’t say anything else.

Kevin’s nagging about their health had gotten a combination of better and worse since FF had started accepting the smoothies without comment.

Better because now Kevin had someone who he could unleash his full overbearing nature on and who didn’t seem to even care or notice just doing as Kevin ordered. Worse because now Kevin had a taste of what it was like for one of them to follow his orders.

This building irritation had lead to Josten and Andrew grabbing FF before he could be ambushed by Kevin for his usual lunch smoothie and drag him off to an off campus Deli that they both liked. Josten had probably wanted to feel just a little bit superior to the multi-lingual Freshman since it was a Russian Deli where the owner only really got what you ordered if you did it in Russian. It had happened on the day where at morning practice Kevin had implied that FF would be a better protege since he listened while Neil continued to refuse vegetables.

He could just imagine Josten offering to order for FF.

What an asshole.

He remembers coming into the room the day previous and finding them dumping the contents of a styrofoam bowl into the blender. “What is that?” Aaron had asked.

“Borscht.” Josten answered.

“Why are you putting it in a blender?” Aaron asks knowing that Josten didn’t have an ounce of social awareness.

“So Smith can eat it?” Josten said back to him slowly as if Aaron was the idiot between the two of them.

“Does Kevin know?” Aaron had asked

“Kevin can’t bitch, there’s plenty of vegetables in there.” Josten said with absolute certainty.

Kevin can, in fact, bitch.

“Andrew ordered the borscht for me.” FF says as they continue towards the dorms interrupting Aaron from his memory. “It was good, it was just too much. Like what Kevin said yesterday.” He adds.

Aaron can’t believe Josten is so opposed to ordering vegetables that he made Andrew order FF’s food for him.

What an asshole.

***

“A leash. I will find the largest child leash I can get and I will put it on you. Smithy, what the fuck.” Nicky bitches as they made their way out into the crisp December air. “I can’t believe you fell asleep and we almost left you again.” Nicky adds. “My sweet baby boy,

Aaron thinks his cousin is being over dramatic.

FF could walk back from the Fox stadium to the tower on his own just fine. He was a big boy no matter how many times Nicky claimed him to be his ‘sweet little baby boy’.

“I’m not your baby. Don’t call me that.” FF grumbles through his yawn sounding very much like a cranky little baby.

“Maybe stay awake through the game and I’ll consider it.” Nicky teases.

“The game was boring enough to play let alone just having to sit and watch.” Kevin says and it was only because Kevin had his ‘post-game’ smoothie for FF to drink that they realized he wasn’t there before they left the stadium. “We can hardly blame Smiths for falling asleep.” Kevin shrugs elated by the win but disappointed in the competition. “Drink your smoothie Smiths.” He says and FF went back to sipping at the unknown concoction, “The tart cherries and avocado should help you go to sleep when we get back to Abby's.” He says as if that combination was a natural one.

“Tart Cherries and Avocado?” Josten asks in obvious disgust.

“They’re-“

“Hey, Granny Boy!” Came a shout that interrupted Kevin’s explanation.

Usually, anything that interrupted Kevin from some going on another lecture was a good thing but Aaron, bringing up the rear, can see how FF’s posture went from relaxed to painfully alert in a matter of seconds.

“Daniel.” FF returns.

MASTERPOST FOR ALL PARTS OF FLUENT FRESHMAN AU

#Fluent Freshman AU #FF definitely felt quite a bit of panic when Neil and Andrew invited him to the Russian Deli #Neil had in fact been feeling a little upset about Kevin complimenting FF #Still him and Andrew both knew that it wasn't really FF's fault that Kevin was...Kevin #They'd been meaning to bring the freshman there #They just didn't know that FF as a member of the Palmetto Russian Language Honor Society #Has been to this deli multiple times.#He doesn't know if it was by the grace of god or his own forgettable face #But somehow the owner didn't recognize him #GS is still in Palmetto for at least another week #She wishes a lifetime of doting hadn't made FF associate someone making food for him #with care and affection #As she watches him drink an 'oops all root vegetable' smoothie from Kevin #Also welcome to the start of 'Smith Lore'#It's gonna be a time #AFTG #AFTG OC #AFTG AU #Andreil #Aaron Minyard #My Fics #FF - Pt. 33

328 notes · View notes

otdiaftg · 28 days

Text

The security guard takes Neil back to the locker room and leaves him at the door. Neil goes inside alone and finds all of the Foxes waiting for him. Neil looks from one tired face to the next, soaking them in, reveling in everything they've accomplished tonight and imagining how they'll react when they heard the news tomorrow. "What's so funny?" Nicky asks when he spots Neil in the doorway. Neil didn't realize he is smiling. "Life?" His good mood seems to inject a little life back into the room. Dan sits up a bit straighter, and Matt manages a grin. Kevin presses his fingers hard against his new tattoo. Aaron and Nicky exchange triumphant looks, and Allison reaches out to squeeze Renee's hand. Wymack's nod is approving; Abby's smile is proud. "Let's blow this joint," Wymack says. "We've got a party to get to. Anyone who's not on the bus in two minutes gets to stay here overnight." In no world will Wymack ever really leave his team behind, but the Foxes hustle out of there like they believe him.

Day: Saturday, April 27th / 28th* Time: 3:05 AM EST

*Due to the Leap Year, I have opted to highlight the day rather than the date to keep the events in occurrence to the 2007 year. I will continue to mark both days accordingly.

75 notes · View notes

broken-heart-raven-queen · 3 months

Text

Someone made me think today about the Foxes (+ some others) as forms of art, so here is a list.

Neil: oil painting

Andrew: watercolor painting

Kevin: rock sculptures

Aaron: street art (grafitti)

Nicky: music, but that kind of music you dance a long yo bcs the rithm is a bang and when you read the lyrics the story is soul crushing

Dan: macrame

Matt: crochet (previously he was street art)

Allison: photography

Renee: dance, but specially ballet

Seth: I don't really know if it has a name, but, did you ever see a wall in a public space that was full of posters, stickers, gum, drawings, etc and sometimes is written all over?? Well that is Seth coded.

Jean: glass blowing/ glass sculptures

Jeremy: book annotating

Ichirou: metal welding like to do knifes, swords, daggers, etc

Riko: ice sculptures

Wymack: tattoos

Abby: cooking (salty)

Bee: cooking (sweet)

I have really good explanations for all of these too.

93 notes · View notes

inezs-believable-stories · 4 months

Text

my personal aftg headcannons as an athlete

neil suffers from chronic shin splints, since we never see this boy change into running shoes, (and even if he did they’d probably be years old and be hanging on by a thread) i like to think that his shins are just constantly in pain

aaron, being a med student, is probably the first person the foxes go to when something hurts. aaron likes to pretend that he doesn’t care about their aches but occasionally he’ll recommend specific stretches to some of them. “hey my knee has rlly been hurting when i run” -“wtf do you want me to do about that…try stretching your hamstrings befor complaining”

dan carries multiple rollers in her practice bag. at first it was just for her but then the girls would occasionally borrow it, and then matt, then the monsters made themselves welcome to using it so she started carrying multiple for them all to use at the same time.

allison probably has some rlly expensive massage guns for the same reason as dan but she denies that she was thinking about the rest of the team when she bought them all

renee, aaron, nicky, dan, and matt are all bio freeze people and neil, kevin, andrew, and allison are all icy hot for life

the one time nicky used icy hot he thought it was just supposed to get cold like bio freeze and so he thought he was having an allergic reaction when it started burning

renee is the designated kt-tape person when abby isn’t around since she’s the only one that can apply it good enough that it will last a week and properly work

renee and allison will either do matching french braids or bubble braids for games and they take turns braiding each others hair

the foxes convinced wymack and abby to host team pasta dinners the night before home games so the they can get in their carb load in and have a “team bonding activity”

#these are all my sane an normal hc but i rlly wanna make a post for my deranged ones #these are also all basically cannon because i said so #the foxhole court #all for the game #aftg #the raven king #the kings men #neil josten #aaron minyard #andrew minyard #kevin day

133 notes · View notes

luvrlou · 1 year

Text

Get Out Of Your Own Way

Pairing: Matt Press x fem!reader

Warnings: swearing, drug use, underage drinking, Matt is a warning in itself

Summary: Matt Press can never seem to get out of his own way.

A/N: Why is there no Press imagines!

Word Count: 2.1k

If Y/N L/N was asked who she most hated in the entire world, she would answer with Matt Press in a heartbeat. Where to even start with him? Some would say he's a dick others would be straight up and label him a sociopath. Conventionally, he was attractive, tall, had dark hair and always had this mysterious glint in his eye, that's what caused the girl to dislike him even more.

"Halloween, the one night of the year when a girl can dress like a total slut and no other girls can say anything about it," the iconic words of Cady Heron projected from the small tv in Diana's bedroom.

"Di! Is this too much?" Y/N questioned, twirly around the room in a pair of black spandex shorts, a black crop top with purple zip and a witch hat placed messily on her head.

"Some would say not enough babe!" She replied, "put these on," she instructed chucking a pair of black heels towards her friend.

Tonight the two girls were headed to a Halloween party thrown by some kids in the year below, it was in this boy, Brodie's, basement. The pair were invited by a close friend of his called Abby Littman, Y/N didn't know her that well but Diana had known her since she was one year old.

"So what are you being?" Y/N asked the ginger girl sitting on the floor across from her.

"An angel!" She smiled grabbing the wings and halo next to her and placing them on. She stood up and did a spin, "tada!"

"Get your heels on so we can leave," the H/C girl ordered, switching off the tv, "we'll just walk, yeah?"

"Sounds good!" Diana grins, grabbing her friend by the hand and running down her stairs, locking her door behind her and heading in the direction of the party.

"Mothers lock up your sons!" Y/N yells as the pair enter the party hand in hand.

"Y/N and Di are here!" The other girl finished, receiving a chorus of cheers from the massive amount of teenagers in the basement.

"Di, come get a drink with me!" Y/N shouted over the noise.

The pair slipped through mountains of intoxicated people and poured themselves two cups of vodka, lemonade and blackcurrant juice. They clinked cups and downed their drinks giggling softly to each other before pouring themselves the same again.

"Let us mingle!" Diane croaked in a weird voice causing her friend to burst out laughing, they both parted ways and went to mingle.

"Glad to see you embracing your true self as a witch!" A male's voice boomed, followed by an obnoxious giggle.

"Lovely to see you too Matt," She pulled a tight-lipped smile, "Samantha," she nods towards the other girl.

"Awe, don't be so jealous of our Sam," he taunted, pulling a faux pout.

Y/N rolled her eyes, "I'm not jealous, I just don't like her simple as that."

"Don't need to be so rude!" The girl on the couch complained.

"Shut up Samantha," Press quipped before turning to glare at the girl in front of him.

"I'm away for a drink, bye Matty!" Y/N teased, grinning.

"And I'm joining you!" He added, clearly trying to wind her up.

She groaned and made a break for the kitchen.

"So Y/N, you do realise that you're meant to dress up as something for Halloween?" He laughed as she grabbed a bottle of vodka.

"Matt, you do realise that being a dick doesn't need to be your only personality trait?" The girl spat back, filling up her cup with vodka, and adding almost equal part lemonade.

"Woah, you have enough lemonade for your vodka?" Press asked taking the bottle off of her as she attempted to add even more into her cup.

Y/N smiled, "aren't you so cute caring about me," her smile dropped, "now fuck off and play with your little toy, she's waiting for you!"

He grunted in annoyance before walking off with a beer.

"It's shot o'clock!" Abby's voice rang through the small basement. All of the drunken teenagers gathered around the table tennis table and started to pound on it.

A chant of "Tiny sips, tiny flips!" bounced around the walls of the basement as Abby walked around pouring everyone a shot, Y/N stood oppisite Norah, a girl she knew fairly well.

When it came to her and Norah's turn Norah sent Y/N a quick smile before they both grabbed their shots and downed them, they tried to flip their cups, both messing up and sending the cups flying.

"Better luck next time sweet cheeks!" Press cackled his arm hooked around Samantha. Y/N sent the boy a middle finger, causing Diana to burst out laughing from behind her.

"Holy shit Di! You scared me!" Y/N drunkenly chuckled, embracing her friend. The pair walking off, "let's get more shots."

"You know how glad I am to have picked you to be friends with!" Diana commented, stumbling over to the kitchen, Y/N on her arm.

The girls grabbed a bottle of tequila rose and two shot glasses, pouring shots and linking arms, downing them.

"I could drink this all day!" Diana dreamily exclaimed.

"We can!" Y/N cheered, taking the bottle by the neck and pouring some of it down her throat.

Diana snatched the bottle drinking it wistfully slipping to the floor, Y/N joining her. Despite the partygoers coming and going from the kitchen, no one really paid much attention to the two girls tanning the bottle of creamy alcohol.

"Shit it's done," Y/N whined, sliding herself to lie down on the cold floor.

"Oh my, what have I walked in on?" The dreaded man said as he entered the kitchen.

"Oh Matty, be a doll and pass me down one of the vodkas," the intoxicated version of Y/N slurred.

"Absolutely not, get up!" He commanded reaching for Diana's hand, who gratefully took it and stumbled to a stool. Press then went to grab Y/N and haul her to her feet.

"Don't touch me, Matt Press!" She screamed.

"Come on Y/N, work with me, " he muttered, watching the girl submit and grab onto him. "There you go," he softly whispered as she reached her feet.

Matt turned to leave and Y/N went to sit next to Diana, "I wish he wasn't such a cunt," she stated, making Diana whip he head around.

"Y/N! Oh my god!" She screamed, and then they smelt it, the weed-infused aroma of a bong, "I think I know what time it is, do you know what time it is?"

"Bong time baby!" Y/N yelled, grabbing Diana's arm and stumbling towards the couch, "pass the bong sophomore!"

Y/N lit the end of it inhaling a big draw and passing it to Diana, Y/N reached over to Press and blew the cloud of smoke straight into his face, "oh you want to play that game huh?" He smirked, clutching her by the hips and pulling her onto the couch. "Hand it over Diana!"

Press took the bong and inhaled, grabbing Y/N's draw roughly and connecting their lips, the smoke travelled into her mouth. "Press! You animal!" Jordan shouted.

Y/N watched grinning as Samantha ran off into a bathroom, she stood up snatching the bong of the raven-haired boy, "Is there any weed that's not in here, I want a joint," she announced.

Abby sprinted off and came back with a small baggy filled with weed and a box of rolling paper, you took them out the girl's hands and kissed her forehead, "you're a gem."

The girl grinned and chucked herself onto the couch, on top of Brodie. Y/N stumbled towards the table to roll two joints, one for her, one for Diana.

"Come get one Di!" She shouted, the skidding and crashing indicated that the girl had arrived.

She picked one up and inspected it, "I love when you roll them!" Y/N tossed the lighter at her which she caught surprisingly well. Y/N placed hers between her lips and waited for her friend to light it.

The pair walked over to the people on the couch, the two girls mentally deciding to through themselves on Abby, the party had noticeably gone quiet, as the time had hit around half one. The only people who were left were the group of nine huddled around the couch.

"You know how much I love you, Abby, you're so cute and pretty," Y/N mumbled, cuddling into the girl she hadn't properly talked to since about five minutes ago.

"You two are definitely drunk!" Abby laughed, pushing both Y/N and Diana off of her onto the space next to her.

"We're not drunk we're just appreciating life!" Diana shouted, taking another long draw of her joint.

"While you guys appreciate life, me and Norah are away to have sex!" Jordan slipped into the conversation, causing everyone to groan.

"Shut up Jordan!" Norah reddened, pulling him away and up the stairs.

Everyone sat and talked for a while, despite never really hanging out with the group Diana and Y/N were fitting right in, laughing like they were old friends who hadn't seen each other for ten years. Diana had especially warmed up to Brodie who she was now all over in the corner of the basement.

"Perhaps we should take this to my room, what do you say Diana?" Brodie suggested to the ethereal-looking girl on his lap who was layering his neck with the red lipstick she had swiped on only an hour or so prior.

"I say that sounds great!" She beamed, grabbing the boy's hand and leading him up the stairs as silently as they could.

"I'm heading, I refuse to hear two couples going at it." Abby groaned kissing Y/N on the head before she leaves, waving a small goodbye at Ginny, who was cuddled into Hunter's side pretty much comatose.

"I better get Ginny home, sorry guys." Hunter pitifully smiled.

"No please don't leave me here with Matt!" Y/N pleaded making him burst out laughing.

"I'm not that bad babe!" He answered, giving her a side-eye. Hunter sent you yet another apologetic look, assisting a stumbling Ginny up the stairs.

"I need another drink," Y/N declared, standing up from her spot on the couch. She could sense him following her to the kitchen, which bothered her a ton but she was too interested in getting some more fiery liquid down her, instead of pouring something she just grabbed a bottle of vodka, slugged some down and trudged back to the couch.

"Stop hiding that you like me, it's honestly pathetic." A voice spoke behind her.

She whipped round, and finally he had well and truly pissed her off. "Oh my god, will you ever get out of your own way?"

"What's your deal, why are you being such a bitch to me lately, do I mean nothing to you," Matt shouted taking a step closer to the girl.

"Well fucking done Matt! You finally get it!" She yelled back at him. "You aren't as stupid as you give yourself credit for."

Matt laughed, "look at yourself Y/N, you're a mess, just admit it the only way you are happy with yourself is when you're drinking or smoking your dumb fucking joints!"

"What's that supposed to mean?" She questioned getting even closer, making him step back into the table.

"I stopped being close to you and now you cry by yourself in school and act like you don't give a flying fuck about anyone! Other than Diana? Tell me that isn't true." He demanded looking the girl up and down.

"You don't know the first thing about me Press." She spat, prodding his chest with her dainty finger. "I mean you can't even go by your first name and you call me pathetic, that's funny!"

He only grunted in response, shoving the drunken shell of a girl out of the way, this only annoyed her even more.

"Matt for the love of god, just let me hate you." She whispered.

He huffed, "I don't want you to hate me Y/N but we'll never have whatever it was we even had again."

"God Matt! Stop!" Her distraught voice begged, his complexion softened a bit before advancing towards her, "Matt, don't speak."

Y/N pondered her decision, looking at the tall body who is towering over her, in one swift movement she pulled the boy closer, her hands wrapping around the back of his neck.

Matt's warm breath fanned over her face, "are you going to kiss me or what?" He smirked.

"Shut it." Y/N reached up and placed her lips against his, him instantly wrapping an arm around her waist, his other falling firmly on the side of her neck, he started to walk her so his back hit the cold table.

"Jump," Matt grunted, breaking the kiss, his arms came down to the back of her thighs, lifting her onto the table. She wrapped his legs around his waist, letting him kiss down her neck.

#ginny & georgia #ginny & georgia imagine #matt press imagine #lou writes fanfic #matt press x reader #press x reader #ginny & georgia x reader #ginny and georgia x reader #Spotify

548 notes · View notes

dvrcos · 3 months

Text

Thinking about the Foxes dying their hair orange for finals. Like it starts with the girls doing orange highlights/Renee dying the tips of her hair orange during death matches

And then Matt and Nicky rope themselves in because they think it’s cool as fuck and they want to be apart of it. So Allison and Renee help them bleach their hair and Dan watches for moral support. They dye the tips of Matt’s hair and give Nicky chunky highlights

They try to convince Neil next and it doesn’t work until Matt asks and then he hesitantly agrees. They give him just a little streak of orange right at the front and it just looks like his normal hair but a bit brighter

Kevin is the next to join in because he’s superstitious as fuck and would think if half the team is already doing it than the whole team has to for good luck. Allison and Renee give him a nice ombré of orange over the tips of his hair

The twins are the hardest to convince by far. Kevin and the entire team hound them for a week. Aaron agrees finally just so Kevin stops bitching at him every spare breath and somehow Neil gets Andrew on board because he’s Neil and “just asked”

Aaron dyes the undercut of his hair orange and Andrew gets little fox paw prints on the shaved part of his head (so he can shave them off as soon as the seasons over). The orange is bright as fuck on their hair too since their natural hair is so light. And they both think it’s obnoxious but are team players

It definitely becomes a tradition after that and if they make it to finals Wymack and Abby surprise them by dying their hair (and Wymack temporarily dyes his beard)

#I wanna draw them with their orange hair #specifically Aaron because it’s me and also I have a very specific image in my head of what it looks like #aftg #all for the game #aaron minyard #kevin day #andrew minyard #neil josten #dan wilds #matt boyd #renee walker #allison reynolds #nicky hemmick #the foxes

873 notes · View notes

lovesclinic · 1 year

Text

ྀི ۪ ׂ. ૮ ๑• . •๑ ა ۪ ׂ. ꒰ 𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐄 !! ꒱

ღ. synopsis ; press wants to keep his need for reader on the low, will a game of truth or dare make his obsession obvious?

ღ. cw ; press acting out of character (not a complete asshole, weed usage, samantha mention, reader and press pining for each other, suggestive content

ღ. notes ; press is nice in tbis becuase i know he sucks in the series, but we all had to stop and take a breath in that scene with abby

matt press x reader ones shot ginny and georgia !!

⊹˚.⋆

The group had come over after school to hang out in Brodie’s basement as usual. And of course samantha was saying all this shit, everyone was done with it, and Y/N was about to beat the bitch up.

"okay let's play truth or dare! everyone, brodie get off the, game!" max was sick of samantha non stop antagonising everyone, maybe she could dare samantha not to talk for the rest of the year.

“seriously?" press asked annoyed while brodie only groaned at the interruption. "okay i will start!" max sat down beside ginny once again, now sitting straight up rather than lying across the girls.

“but if you pick the lame option of truth, you have to take a hit from jordan's bong!" the previously disgruntled group was now slightly more exited about max's game, due to the added aspect of jordan's bong.

"truth or dare abby."

"dare."

⊹˚.⋆

abby and norah kissed.

jordan told everyone about having sex with norah in max's bed.

brodie did a total of six pushups with abby on his back before he tapped out.

ginny swapped outfits with max and was now wearing a bright pink and orange multicolour jacket that was a bit too big for her, with her jeans that looked really good on her. while max was wearing ginny's flannel and tshirt, and her tight fitting jeans.

and everyone was super high.

except for press and Y/N, who hadn't had their go yet, though neither seemed to mind the accidental exclusion.

"truth or daaare, press!" brodie called out a tad too loudly from his spot lying on the floor in a starfish position facing up.

"dare."

Y/N didn't know much about press, only that before today's weird encounter he spent his time sleeping with any hot girl who walked past him, playing basketball, and partying.

abby quickly rolled off the couch, lancing beside brodie with a thump. before quickly recovering a whispering in his ear.

"i dare you to sit on top of Y/N" Brodie sung out drunkenly.

"no." press interrupted.

now Y/N wasn't particularly religious but she thought to herself, thank god.

although Y/N was confused, usually press wouldn't need any convincing to hurt someone, physically or emotionally, and him sitting on her would most definitely crush her bones.

so why did he say no?

abby huffed and once again whispered in Brodie's ear. "oh,OH! okay reverse! i dare Y/N to sit on press' lap for the rest of the game!"

the boy quickly sobered up as much as possible to string together the most coherent sentence possible in his state. "but you can't dare me to do anything brodie, you said you chose press." the already flustered girl teased, feeling relieved at the predicament brodie found himself in. what were he and abby up to?

"okay prettyyyy girl Y/N! then truth or dare to you!"

"truth."

brodie kicked a leg up into the air in a tantrum - like response, "no you have to pick dare Y/N obviously!"

max sighed drunkinly, "yeah Y/N just go do it so i can dare norah to break up with jordan!" Y/N went to decline once again, seemingly the only voice of reason right now. however her plan quickly changed as a quick but very strong shove to Y/N’s body sent her flying off the couch and squeezing her eyes shut, braced for a hard impact with the floor.

Y/N is met with a hard surface but not one of the floor, Y/N quickly opened her eyes to see she was straddling a torso, almost hugging.

the boy above her sending her a heated look, quickly covered up with a smirk.

“a bit eager are we, little Y/N?" press' words were like a jolt to the system for her,

"hey! the man said for the rest of the game so you stay put, my pretty girl!" abby pointed at the flustered girl as made a move to leave the extremely comfortable seat of press' lap.

leaning his mouth down beside Y/N’a ear, he whispered so only she could hear his words, in a way that had her fighting for air.

“it's okay, stay here for as long as you like, they'll all be so high soon that they won't even notice what you're wearing let alone where you're sitting." was press, comforting her?

ew.

Y/N never expected that from him. she did, however, expect press to lean his head back after saying that.

but the boy only moved her body around as if she were a doll or child in need of protection. resting his chin on her shoulder, keeping her facing him with her legs frozen in the same position straddling his torso.

“if you're not okay with this i can just tell 'em to fuck off." it's like he could sense the girl’s stress.

she was too nervous to say the wrong thing, upset the boy. so she simply shook her head left to right to say no.

"that's good for me, you're comfy." his short sentences said so little but did so much to Y/N.

what did she do to make him actually like her? or just tolerate her enough to let her sit on him all night?

and how can she keep doing it?

“okay okay my go!” Y/N distantly heard muffled voices of max and the group, sounding as if they were so very far away from her and press.

and here he sat press right behind her, a new look in his eye. his hands suddenly landed subtly on either of her hips, in a gentle but firm matter. forcing Y/N to pause the rocking movements of her hips that she hadnt even realise she had started. A strained gasp escaped Y/N’s throat at the feel of his large hands on her hips.

“Y/N m’ gonna to need you to stop doing that baby.”

“why? whats wro- oh.”

⊹˚.⋆

part 2?

#matt press #press #ginny and georgia #oneshot #smut?#part 2?#first post #drabble #maxine baker #marcus baker #explore #angel energy #addicted series #positive #feminine #books #fanfic #georgia miller #gif

417 notes · View notes

writingwithciara · 4 months

Text

always there for you- matt sturniolo

summary: on the surface, abigail’s relationship seems perfect. but there’s something about her boyfriend that the triplets just don’t like. and nobody hates oscar more than matt does

word count: 3.3k

pairing: matt sturniolo x abigail moore (oc-ish) Oscar Myles

note: found a really sweet friends-to-lovers prompt on pinterest and thought it’d be good for a matt fic. this fic ties in with the social media au on my other account. mentions of controlling & possessive boyfriend, aged up because of alcohol use [PLEASE READ THE FIRST SOCIAL MEDIA POST before this fic]

“Guys I have a great idea for our next video.” Nick walked into the living room where Matt and Chris were but neither of them lifted their heads or showed any signs of listening to the older triplet. “Did you guys even hear me?”

“Hmm? What?” Chris was the only one who responded. Matt’s eyes were glued to his phone.

“I said I had a great idea for the next video.” Nick looked at Matt then at Chris. “Is he okay?”

“Yes and no.”

“Clarify please.”

“Abigail texted me and said she wouldn’t be able to make it here today since she was going to be celebrating Oscar’s birthday with his family. Matt hasn’t stopped looking at the photo she posted on her Instagram story.”

“I don’t get what she sees in him. He’s a loser.” Matt huffed before dropping his phone and turning to face his siblings. “I need to go for a drive.” He grabbed his keys and stood up. “You guys want to come?”

“Uh, sure. I’ll go grab the equipment just in case we decide to film a video or something while we’re out.” Nick retreated to his bedroom to grab everything. Chris offered his brother a sympathetic look.

“Look, none of us like Oscar. But we do like Abigail and she’s happy. That should be what matters, right?”

“I just feel like she’s hiding something from us and I don’t like that. She was an open book before she met him and now, it’s like she’s closing herself off from us…from me.” he sighed and peered down at one of his tattoos. He had gotten it because Abigail was getting one and she begged him to get a matching one with her.

“Matthew, I got a question for you.” Abigail opened matt’s bedroom door without knocking, like always, and sat on his bed.

“What is it now?” he playfully rolled his eyes and turned in his chair to face her. Her smile instantly lighting up the room.

“I have an appointment for a tattoo in an hour and my parents are at work so they can’t drive me. So I was wondering if you would be the greatest best friend ever and drive me there.”

“Yeah. Just let me end this game and we can go.” He turned back to his monitor and quickly left his game. “Alright, let’s go.”

10 minutes later, they were waiting for Abigail’s appointment when she turned to him, gasping and grabbing his hand.

“Matt, you should get one with me!” she exclaimed.

“And what would I be getting?” he chuckled at her idea.

“Something that would match with mine.” She pulled out her phone to show him a picture. But when she looked up at him, her idea suddenly seemed dumb. “I mean, you don’t have to, since it’s kind of childish.”

“Do you really want me to get a matching tattoo?”

“Well, yeah. You’re my best friend and we should have something to solidify that fact. But if you don’t want to, then-“

“I’ll do it.” He smiled widely. “Anything for you, Abby.”

And that is how he ended up getting a small, but meaningful, baby triceratops on his left arm. He adored it to absolutely no end.

“Alright, bitches. Let’s go.” Nick walked out of his room and straight out to the car. Chris followed right behind him and took a second to send Abigail a text before Matt got in the car and began driving off to an undecided location.

Abigail was currently in the shower getting ready for the birthday celebration when her phone went off. Oscar looked over and saw Chris’ contact name and message pop up on the screen. He knew his girlfriend was close to the boys and he knew how much closer she was with Matt. So when they first started dating, he had asked her to limit how much she actually talked to him. When she didn’t listen to him, he gave her an ultimatum. She was to cut off contact with Matt or he would leave her. And seeing how it was her first real relationship, Abigail had to cut off ties with Matt.

So when Chris texted her to say hey, matt misses you like crazy. please call or something so he doesn’t do something stupid. you're the only one who can bring him out of this misery :( Oscar knew she had made the right choice. He felt a sense of pride.

That proud moment disappeared when he went through the conversation with Chris. There were tons of messages mentioning matt and just as many updates on how he was doing. Although they weren’t direct messages to Matt, Oscar felt his anger building up.

“Hey, babe. I’ll be ready in a few minutes. Then we can head out.” Abigail called from the bathroom while she worked on doing her makeup.

“Take your time, love. I’m in no hurry.” He went to lock her phone before she came out and saw he was reading through her messages but stopped when he saw her home wallpaper. It was a photo of her and Matt, a milkshake with two straws between them. He obviously couldn’t tell what had been said before the picture was taken but by the way they were both smiling at each other, he knew that there was clearly something between them. Was he wrong for making her stop talking to him? He didn’t care. Without thinking, he quickly changed her wallpaper to a picture of them and set her phone down just in time for her to walk out of the bathroom.

“Okay. I’m ready.” She smiled. He wanted to confront her about the wallpaper but her smile made him forget. “Pass me my phone.”

He handed the device to her and waited to see if she would notice the change. She did but she knew she shouldn’t show her emotions in front of him.

They walked out of the house and headed to his parents place. They were going to meet there and then drive to the restaurant together. Abigail was already dreading the car ride. Oscar’s parents didn’t think she was good enough for their golden child and they made zero effort to hide that from her. In fact, she was surprised when they invited her out for his birthday this year.

Later that night, the boys were in their usual filming location and were discussing future video ideas. Nick had the brilliant idea to film the conversation, just in case they forgot anything the next day.

“Chris, can you see if Abigail wants to be in our next video? She won’t reply to me for some reason.” Nick rolled his eyes.

“Maybe that’s because she’s tired of getting the weirdest texts from you in the middle of the night.” Matt smiled, thinking back to the day after she received the first few weird texts from Nick.

Abigail walked into Matt’s room and threw her self onto his bed dramatically. He was in the middle of a Fortnite game but he glanced over at her and chuckled. She was almost as dramatic as Nick but he thought it was adorable how dramatic she was.

“Matty, can I take a nap in your bed?” she flipped onto her stomach and rested her head in the palms of her hands. Matt took the final shot of the game and finally turned towards her.

“Why? What’s up, princess?”

“I couldn’t get back to sleep after Nick sent me like 50 of the strangest texts at 3 this morning. And I was having a really good dream too.” she pouted and switched to her back.

“What were you dreaming about?” Matt sat up against his headboard and patted the spot beside him. Abigail smiled and curled up into his side with her head in his lap. He stroked her hair as she began to explain her dream.

“You and I were somewhere in our 80s probably and we were still best friends. You and the boys were still making videos, but not as frequently, obviously. Um, I think I was married to Chris but when you’re 80 and living with triplets, it’s kind of hard to tell who you’re with.”

“So, are you saying you want to marry Chris sometime in the future?” Matt raised an eyebrow and looked down at his best friend.

“What? No of course not.”

“Well you said your dream was really good and then you said you were married to Chris. I think that’s what that means, doofus.”

“I said I think it was Chris.”

“Did he have tattoos?”

“Not that I could see.”

“Then it was Chris.” Matt couldn’t hold his laughter in anymore. “Wow. Didn’t know you felt that way about my brother.”

“I don’t. Shut up.” she turned her head away from him to hide her red cheeks. “Anyway, I was just really happy that we all stayed close that late in life. That’s what made it a good dream, jackass. Not that I was married to your brother.”

“Why wouldn’t you wanna marry Chris?”

“We’re getting off topic, Matthew. I came to talk about how annoying Nick is in the middle of the night. I mean I love him to death but a girl needs her beauty sleep.”

“You don’t need beauty sleep.” He smiled sheepishly at her as she turned to face him.

“Matt, I’m being serious.”

“Yeah. So am I.” he hoped his tone of voice would convey his message and when she sat up to look at him, he knew she understood. He wanted to kiss her right then and there but Nick had to interrupt their moment, however brief it had been.

“Matt, your phone is ringing.” Matt shook himself out of the memory and glared at Nick for interrupting again. “Do not give me that look. Just answer your phone.”

Matt pulled his phone out of his pocket and looked at the screen. “It’s Abby.” The car went silent as Matt contemplated what to do.

“Answer it, dumbass.” Chris hit the accept button and pushed it up to Matt’s ear.

“Hello?”

Dinner with Oscar’s parents was a disaster. No surprise there. They’ve never had a successful meal together. But this one in particular really got on Abigail’s nerves. They were constantly bringing up Oscar’s last girlfriend and saying how they wished he had stayed with her instead. Abigail felt incredibly defeated and Oscar did nothing to defend her.

After the dinner with his parents, Oscar and Abigail were expected to meet some of his friends at the bar to finish off the night with a strong celebration. At least some of his friends were fun to be around, drunk or not.

However, Abigail found herself at a booth with some of the other girlfriends and a handful of the single guys from the group. She barely knew these people and she tried to start conversations with all of them but nobody would respond. Nothing she said had piqued their interest. So she made her way over to the bar and ordered herself a few drinks.

Halfway through her 5th drink of the night, she decided to talk to Oscar about why he changed her wallpaper. As she approached him and his group of friends, they all gave her a disgusted look.

“Oscar, baby, can I talk to you outside for a minute?” she pulled at the sleeves of her shirt, suddenly becoming nervous under the watch of strangers.

“Sure thing, babe.” He downed the shot he was holding and followed his girlfriend outside. When they could finally hear each other again, Abigail looked at him and sighed.

“Why did you change my wallpaper, Oscar? Were you going through my phone again?”

“No. Of course not. I trust you.”

“Uh huh. Then why is my home screen a picture of us instead of what it was?”

“You mean a picture of you and your real boyfriend?”

“What are you talking about?”

“You know exactly what I’m talking about. Matt. You two have a thing, it’s obvious. And I’m tired of being lied to. I know you two are talking.”

“What the fuck, Oscar? I haven’t spoken a word to Matt in months because I’ve been busy being a good girlfriend to you. You asked me to cut off contact with him and that’s exactly what I did.”

“If you haven’t talked to him, then why was he your home screen photo?”

“I happen to like that picture. It was one of the few moments in my life where I had nothing to worry about. But now, I feel so isolated in my life. I can’t even have my own friends.”

“Yes you can.”

“Um, no the fuck I can’t. Every time I make a friend, you command that I stop talking to that person. You’re controlling and I think that maybe this relationship needs to end.”

“Come on, baby. You don’t mean that.” Oscar reached out to grab her shoulders and she stepped back.

“Yes, I actually do. It’s about time I get my own life back.”

“Whatever. I don’t need you. There’s plenty of better, prettier fish in the sea anyway.” He shoved past her roughly and headed back into the bar. When he was gone, Abigail slid against the wall and broke down. She pulled out her phone and dialed Chris’ number. When he didn’t answer, she tried Nick. He didn’t pick up and she suddenly felt lost. Then she remembered Matt. Her fingers flew across the keypad due to muscle memory and soon enough, the phone was ringing.

“Hello?” she heard Matt’s voice and continued sobbing. “Abby, are you okay? Where are you?”

“Bar.” Was all she managed to get out before the line was cut off. “Matt?” No answer. “Great. Just fucking perfect.”

“You don’t even know where she is, Matt. How are you going to find her?” Chris leaned against the car door and looked at his brother.

“I’m going to need your phone, obviously. I’ll just track her location.”

“Why don’t I just come with you so I can navigate for you.”

“No. It needs to be me, and me only.” Matt gripped the steering wheel tightly.

“What if Oscar tries to fight you? What are you going to do?”

“I don’t care. As long as Abby is safe, I don’t care what happens to me.”

“Okay then. Go save her.” Chris tapped the top of the car and watched his brother fly out of the driveway.

Matt ran through every possible scenario he could think of that would get Abby to call him in tears. And every single one of them made his heart ache. He hated knowing that he had let her stay with Oscar this long, knowing what he was capable of.

As he pulled up to where Abigail’s location pinged, he saw her sitting against the building with her knees to her chest. Her head was resting against them and he could tell she was crying solely by the way her body was shaking. He got out of the car and approached her quickly. Her head jerked up when she heard footsteps and the sight of her face alone was enough to make him want to go into the bar and kick the shit out of Oscar. But he held back, knowing she needed him more right now.

“Y-you came?” she wiped as much of her tears away as she could.

“Of course I did. You called.” He held out his hand for her and she just looked at it like it was foreign. “Come on. Let’s go for a walk. That diner you love is right around the corner and I know you’re probably craving a burger right now.”

“And a milkshake?” she asked, wiping away the few tears that remained.

“And a milkshake.” He chuckled when she cheered and grabbed his hand. Neither of them wanted to let go of the others hand but it was bound to happen when they sat at the table. They ordered and ate their food slowly.. As they finished, Matt looked up to see a worried look on Abigail’s face.

“I broke up with Oscar.”

“Oh. Well, do you wanna talk about it? Maybe tell me why?”

“I realized he was too controlling and whenever I wouldn’t listen to one of his rules, he would lash out and throw things at me. It wasn’t a healthy relationship and I hate myself for taking this long to realize it.”

“You don’t need to hate yourself. Love will blind you and make you do crazy things sometimes.” He chuckled lightly and noticed her crack a smile.

“That’s not even the worst part. The thing that made me realize how toxic he was is when he changed my wallpaper a few hours ago because he didn’t like what it was.”

“What was it?”

“It’s a picture of you and me, in this very diner, sharing a laugh over a milkshake. It’s my favorite picture so I changed it back to that.”

“I love that picture.” He smiled and looked at her phone as she held it out to him. “I’m sorry you had to go through that.”

“You don’t need to apologize. It’s not your fault. You didn’t force me to stay with him.”

“But it kind of is my fault.” He sighed. “If I had just been honest about my feelings from the start, then you never would’ve dated him in the first place.”

“What do you mean?”

“Nothing. It’s not important. Let’s go.” He went to stand up but Abigail grabbed his hand and pulled him down next to her.

“Matthew Bernard, tell me what you mean by that.”

“Fine.” He took a deep breath and looked down at their matching tattoos. “If I had just told you how I felt, then maybe you and I would’ve been together and you never would’ve met that asshole. The whole time you were with him, I kept hoping and wishing you would realize that I would treat you way better than he ever could. You deserve nothing less than royal treatment because you are a princess and I love you.”

“Matt, I don’t-“

“Yeah. I get it. You don’t feel the same way. I’ve heard it all before.” He looked everywhere but her face. “Can we go home now?”

“We can leave after I speak.” She grabbed his face and made him look at her. Her eyes locked on his and her thumbs rested gently on his cheeks. “You are a fucking dumbass.”

“Come again?”

“You can’t just confess your feelings for me and then think that you’re the only one who feels that way. You didn’t even ask how I felt.”

“How do you feel?”

“Honestly, when it comes to you, it’s hard to summarize all of the feelings. One moment is not enough for me to tell you just how much you mean to me. It would take me thousands of lifetimes to tell you just how much I love you. And if I spent the rest of eternity trying to tell you, I still would not accurately portray how amazing you are and all of the reasons why I love you.”

“Wow. I have no idea what to say to that.” Matt chuckled and looked deep into her eyes.

“Then don’t say anything.” She smiled and leaned in closer. When their lips met, she felt the safest she had ever been in her life. Every moment that involved Oscar from the last 2 years of her life were completely erased from her mind as she knew this is where she was always meant to be.

taglist: @worldlxvlys

#matt sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #nick sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo x reader

101 notes · View notes

whatwouldsylwrite · 1 year

Text

hockey!Abby x dancer!reader pt3

Tags: modern au, fluff, fem!reader, shy reader, reader is into sexy/girly dances, Abby is a sweetheart, switching pov

pt2

Notes: drinking, swearing, kissing, mention of smut if you squint (they get a little worked up but nothing happens), feminine reader, men being creepy. There's a mention of Dove Cameron's song - just want you to know it's "Boyfriend", because it's not mentioned in the text and this stupid (affectionate) song has been stuck in my head for days.

Also, Abby calls reader "dancing queen" in her head (just as reader calls her "the hockey girl") because she thinks it's a funny reference to the Abba song and she laughs every time she thinks about it.

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-

"(Y/n), you going to the party?" Ellie asked when you were leaving the building after the game.

"Yeah. Oh wait." You said, noticing Finn's jacket still around you. You looked around, trying to notice him in the crowd to return the jacket. "Fuck."

"Don't stress, he'll probably be at Manny's." Dina calmed you down. "Are you going straight away or..?"

"I'm going home first, I need to change. Stockings are slipping all the time." You pulled them up on your thighs as you spoke.

"They look good on you." Ellie protested (she knew Abby liked this kind of stuff, and she really wanted to see her face when she'd see you).

"Yeah, well." You shrugged. "I'm definitely not spending half of the time fixing them, so I'm going home first."

"Do you need a ride?"

"To home or to Manny's?"

"Both." Dina clarified. "It's like, a five minute ride, Ellie can manage it."

"Oh, so I'm the driver today?" Ellie asked, raising her brows.

"You are." Dina looked at her with her Ellie eyes, and Ellie gave up.

"Okay."

"Simp." You laughed and got in the car.

"Fuck you." Ellie said and you laughed even harder.

Ellie and Dina dropped you off at your apartment, promising to pick you up in two hours - you figured out the party won't start right away and you should come a little late to be on time for the fun part. So you spent your time going over every dress you had, trying to find something comfortable and cute. You really wanted to make a good first impression on the hockey girl.

Usually you'd be too shy to actually talk to someone you liked, but tonight you had a good excuse - you could just come up to her and congratulate her on the win. It'd be easy, right? Just say hi, congratulations, I'm (y/n). That's it. You just needed to chill and manage your anxiety.

God wouldn't it be awful if your tongue stopped working and you'd say something stupid?

You were worried if she was okay: she got a penalty in the second period, and in the third period someone boarded her. It probably hurt, right? Even if she was a hockey player and was used to it, pain was still pain. She didn't need a doctor, which was good, but still. You couldn't imagine how it felt, being slammed into the boards by a 200 lbs man whose weight was multiplied by his speed.

Yeah, that was why you were a dancer and not a sports player. You had your fair share of injuries (you've sprained your ankles so many times that they now recovered in a few days, so used to being injured. Still hurt like hell, though), but you didn't have to experience this kind of aggression or competitiveness.

You looked at yourself in the mirror, happy with your dress - it was mid length with an accent on your waist, which immediately brought up your hips and chest. It had a flower pattern on a milky fabric, and it was perfect for both feeling cute and comfortable - you were a dancer after all, so you planned on dancing tonight, and anything too tight would either restrict your movements or get ripped (that poor miniskirt).

The hockey girl would probably like it, right?

You didn't give yourself time to panic and change, focusing on your makeup. You eyed the red matte lipstick you usually wore, not sure if you should wear it tonight. But you did look good with it, and it didn't leave any strains even if your lips got wet. Fuck it, you thought, and opened the tube.

You were ready just in time when Dina texted you to come out.

"You look good." Ellie said approvingly, looking over your outfit.

"Oh fuck you." You laughed. "But thanks."

The ride was short, but even in this short amount of time Ellie managed to prove she had the worst taste in music, again. You could hear the music just as you left the car, and you felt nervous and excited, clutching your purse in your hand. You held Finn's jacket in your other hand, determined to return it right away and then get some drinks and maybe look for the hockey girl. You wanted to catch her before everyone got wasted, because you felt like you wouldn't be able to introduce yourself twice if the hockey girl didn't remember you in the morning.

Manny met you the second you entered the house and went for a hug. You congratulated him on the win and asked if he had seen Finn. He shrugged and told you no, so you went on to find him.

Abby was sitting with her teammates on the couch in the living room, talking about the game and the asshole who boarded her. She was relaxed after the first beer, and the thought of you was burning in the back of her head, but she decided to be patient. She could wait. Not all people came to parties on time, some people liked to come when everyone was already having fun. Maybe you were one of them.

So Abby relaxed and talked, drinking her beer. Boys were making stupid jokes and she laughed along, until she spotted Williams in the crowd.

Ellie and Dina were here, did it mean you were here too?

Abby's hands itched from the desire to stand up and go look for you to finally introduce herself, maybe get you a drink and get to know you better. Fuck she wanted to bolt out of the living room and find you.

But apparently Abby didn't have to: you appeared just as she got ready to stand up. It was clear for her you were looking for someone (for her?) and just in a second, Abby connected the dots.

That guy's jacket was in your hands.

Abby heard a clank of metal and looked down: she got so worked up with jealousy she almost crushed her beer can. Fuck she needed to have better control over herself.

You found Finn next to the living room. He was chatting with a group of your classmates and when they noticed you, they all said hello and hugged you. Finn looked a little too happy, and when he hugged you, his hand went dangerously close to your ass.

That you didn't like at all, but ignored for now.

"Thank you for your jacket." You said politely and handed it over.

"No problem, (y/n)." Finn smiled, and now you've started to notice how his smile was actually not friendly, but flirtatious. "What are you drinking? I will bring you whatever you say."

"No thanks." You chuckled, trying to play this situation as peacefully as possible. "I like to make my drink myself."

"Come on," Finn smiled and put his hand on your waist. "Tell me how to mix it and you won't be disappointed."

His smile told you he didn't actually mean the drink, and you were getting more angry by each second.

"As I said, no, thanks." You said. "Thank you for your jacket again. See you."

"You are not leaving now, are you?"

You looked at his hand on your arm as he was holding you back. Now it was getting into dangerous territory, and a lot of memories started to make sense.

You were pissed off and dropped the nice act, wanting to end this situation as quickly as possible.

"Listen, if you think you're gonna get it, you're deeply mistaken. And this," you pointed at his hand. "Is getting creepy. Let me go and we will continue with our respective lives." You said angrily.

Finn let you go, and it looked like he did it only because people were around.

You huffed, still shocked at the audacity of this bitch, and strode to the kitchen. You needed a fucking drink.

Abby saw the whole situation play out, and even though she got furious with the guy (if he was your boyfriend? He won't be anymore, Abby will make sure of it), she was even more impressed to see your usual sweet self getting pissed off and telling someone off. You were so polite even when you were uncomfortable, but today you snapped, and Abby's never wanted to buy a wedding ring as much as she wanted now.

Her sweet dancing queen had claws after all.

Abby wasn't sure if it was a good moment to go and talk to you, but the Dove Cameron song felt like a sign from the universe - she definitely could be a better boyfriend than him. So Abby got up and went to the kitchen.

You tried to calm down, but there was no orange juice and you couldn't find any vodka, which only made you more irritated. Great, this evening was off to a great start.

You've stopped and looked around, finally spotting the juice.

"Fucking finally." You said to yourself and grabbed it, still searching for vodka.

"Are you looking for something?" Someone said behind your back. You were too busy to turn around, but the voice was female, so you didn't get annoyed.

"If there's no vodka I'm going to fucking kill someone, I swear to God." You answered and turned around, not seeing any bottles in front of you.

The hockey girl.

She was standing in the door frame, chuckling, and you felt your face turning the same colour as your lipstick. She was dressed in black jeans and black sleeveless shirt, her toned freckled arms for everyone to drool over. Her hair, usually in a braid, was down and she looked so fucking good. You closed your mouth, embarrassed. That was definitely not a good first impression.

"Have you checked the freezer? Manny usually keeps it cold." The hockey girl crossed the room and opened the freezer and took a bottle of vodka.

"Thank you." You said, getting painfully shy. That was not how you wanted your first meeting to happen.

The hockey girl opened the bottle and handed it to you. It was such a sweet gesture you felt your heart flutter.

"I'm Abby." The hockey girl said, smiling at you. You smiled back, holding to the vodka bottle for dear life. She was taller and broader than you, and it made your knees weak.

"I'm (y/n)."

"Are you okay? I saw you back there." Abby said, giving you a glass for your drink. She was casual in her care, your heart was melting. You've felt like a lady within a minute of your conversation.

But the mention of Finn got you back into an angry mood.

"Another asshole thought that I'm easy just because I dance to Doja Cat. Not that there's anything wrong with being easy, you go queens, but I'm built differently. Like, what in the fuck shows that I'm easy? My dress is so long I could be playing Lizzie Bennet instead of Kira Knightley. Fucking assholes." You vented, pouring vodka into your glass. "Sorry." You said, getting a little too conscious of your rambling.

"Felt like you needed to get it out." Abby laughed. "You do have an audience."

"But that's what it is - an audience, y'know." You smiled and added the orange juice.

"I thought he was your boyfriend." Abby said way too casually, and you both knew it was not.

"No. I'm single." You said way too casually as well.

Abby moved and stood next to you as you tasted your screwdriver. You almost felt her warmth from how close she was, and your heart was raising because of it. You wanted her to touch you.

"Too much?"

"Just right." You looked at Abby's empty hands. "You don't drink?"

"I do." She said and grabbed a glass to fill it with whiskey.

You didn't know why Abby drinking plain whiskey was hot, but it was, and you couldn't not think about it.

"I- um. I was at your game today. Congratulations on the win." You said, getting shy again.

"Did you like it?"

"Yeah! I've never been to a hockey game before. Much more enjoyable than soccer."

"Everything is more enjoyable than soccer." You giggled at it, hiding your smile behind your glass.

"Are you okay though? You were slammed into boards." You remembered and tried to see if there were any injuries.

"I'm good. The fucker wasn't that strong."

"Well, he would crush me to death, so I got worried."

"He definitely would, he is thrice your size." Abby chuckled again and you barely held your giggle.

Abby looked at you and tried to suppress her cute aggression: you were too sweet and you looked so innocent, even though you clearly weren't. She wanted to pinch your cheeks and fuck you senseless, but she felt like she needed to earn the right to touch you. Abby wasn't dumb, she caught on to your words: you were definitely a wine and dine girl, someone she'd need to take on a few dates before something could happen.

Surprisingly, she was very okay with it.

The song changed, and Abby got surprised when you turned to her with excitement in your eyes.

"Do you want to dance with me?" You asked, and in that moment Abby knew she was fucked.

Because even though she was a terrible dancer, she couldn't say no to you. Couldn't say no to a chance to spend more time with you.

Abby followed you to the pretend dance floor, and she stood for a few seconds, trying to comprehend what was happening, because the song was slow, and your hands were suddenly around her neck, and Abby wasn't ready for it.

She thought she wouldn't be able to touch you in this century, and now she felt your body against hers and it was breaking her brain in all delicious ways.

"Are you okay with this?" You asked, and Abby came to her senses.

"More than okay." She said and put her hands on your waist. "I'm not a good dancer though."

"So no dip?" You asked, smiling, and started swaying you both from side to side. "I think you'll manage."

Abby laughed, because your words reminded her of an old vine. But when you looked up to her, all pretty doe eyes with white eyeliner that made you even more cute, she felt like she'd devour you right then and there. Her grip on your waist tightened and she moved you closer, flush against her body. You blushed and Abby wanted to kiss you so fucking bad it was getting unbearable, but she controlled herself: she really didn't want to be like all those guys who hit on you. She wasn't even worried about the red lipstick on you - if anything, it only made her look at your mouth more.

But God fucking damnit she wanted to kiss you. Oh, but she could be such a gentleman, right?

So Abby leaned down to you, getting as close as possible, and waited for your reaction, giving you time to back out.

But you didn't want to back out, so you leaned closer too, letting Abby close the distance completely.

Abby finally kissed you, demanding but soft, and you went pliant in her arms, pressing even closer, feeling her belt buckle against your stomach. Abby kissed just as she played, confident and unyielding, keeping you in one place, just as she wanted. She cupped your cheek as she deepened the kiss, her tongue soft and warm on your tongue, her other hand on your waist, kneading your soft side. The taste of her whisky mixed with the taste of your screwdriver, making something spicy and dark, dangerous. You wanted to press your thighs together, the heat building up between your legs.

No one kissed you like that before. No one treated you like that before: the kiss was dirty and wet, but Abby didn't touch you too far, so polite and respectful. Your heart was beating in your ears and in your core as you weaved your fingers into Abby's hair, not pulling but holding gently, massaging her neck. She let go of your cheek and used two hands to get you closer, chest to chest, her thigh between your thighs, making it so tempting to just rub against her. But you didn't, too shy and too nervous, not sure yet if you could trust Abby like that.

You pulled away breathing heavily, and smiled bashfully at Abby. She was smiling too, and even if her eyes were too dark with want, you didn't mind.

"You're so fucking cute." Abby said, feeling like she didn't have to hide it anymore. She tucked away a strand of your hair behind your ear, and you blushed.

Fuck she was gone. How did you manage to dance such dirty dances and be so innocent? You've looked like you've never been kissed before, all blush and shyness and trembling hands around her neck. But somehow your innocence didn't come from naivety - you clearly weren't naive and could handle yourself just fine if you had to. You looked strict, not stupid. That was why Abby was so drawn to you.

"And you have freckles." You said and caressed Abby's cheeks with your thumbs. "So you're cute too. That's what the law says."

"Yeah?" Abby laughed.

"Yes. Ask Dina, she is a law major, she'll tell you." You winked.

And then the song changed.

#abby anderson x reader #abby anderson #hockey!abby

328 notes · View notes