ruby ᢉ𐭩

notes. yaaaaayyyyy everyone say welcome back matt & storm. if anything seems a little elusive right now… i pinky promise in time it will aaalllll make sense 🫡 thank u for being patient with me whilst this took 800 years for me to write. love ya !

taglist. . . can be found here if you’d like to be added :)

“storm..”

you’re not with it tonight, your fork dragging lazily around what’s left on your dinner plate, moving food around instead of actually eating it, your mind clearly elsewhere entirely.

“storm… darlin’…”

your head lifts at your dad’s voice, his phone pressed to his ear as his eyes settle on you across the table. the realisation hitting you that you’ve been sat there not paying attention for longer than you should have.

he watches you for a second, long enough that you notice his look of concern before he diverts his attention back to the call.

“no, i don’t care who’s already there,” he says, his tone calm, but firm enough that there’s no room for whoever’s on the other end of the line to argue it. “double the patrols in the area. triple it if you need to, i’m not havin’ anythin’ slip through at that shit show tonight.”

you don’t say anything, your gaze dropping back to your plate.

“‘cause i said so,” your dad adds a second later, quieter this time, but somehow more final than before. “i’ll be there in an hour.”

there’s a quiet pause that follows when your dad’s phone call ends, conversation starting back up between your mum and siblings like it hadn’t happened, all of them talking about something you don’t quite catch the start of nor care enough to follow.

your dad sets his phone face down beside his plate, his attention now lingering on you again for a moment longer than it does anyone else at the table.

“y’alright, kiddo?” he asks just to you, his tone soft like he hadn’t been full of tension just a second ago.

you nod almost instantly. “yeah, all good.”

the answer back to him comes out probably a little too quick to seem believable, but he doesn’t question it.

“finish up,” he says, taking a final bite of his own food. “stop playin’ with it, and eat it.”

you glance down at your own plate, barely touched.

“i’m done.” you look back over at him, already pushing your chair back slightly before anyone, him included, can really say anything. “can i please be excused from the table? i’ve got an assignment due in two days. haven’t even picked up a paintbrush for it yet.”

you don’t, but he doesn’t know that.

your dad’s hand moves before anyone else can answer, reaching out to take your plate from you without hesitation. you know if it were up to your mum or any of your siblings, they’d tell you the assignment can wait, or that you should stay and actually try be present during tonight’s family dinner but you’ve always been your dad’s favourite.

he stacks your plate on top of his, already turning slightly toward the kitchen.

“i’ve got it,” he says easily, like it’s nothing to him. “you sure you’re okay? y’been jittery all dinner, kid.”

“promise i’m all good, dad.” you lie, again. a false smile on your mouth. “just really nervous about getting this assignment done in time.” a third lie.

“go,” a smile slowly forming at his mouth, a quiet chuckle following. a rarity, something he doesn’t give out often, not unless it’s to you or your siblings, tilting his head in the direction of the stairs. “start your assignment.”

you nod once, thanking him quietly, but you’re already stepping away, heading for the stairs before you can be stopped.

the sound of conversation at the table starts up again behind you, fading the higher up the stairs you get, your dad’s phone ringing loudly once again just as you reach the final step.

the sound of your bedroom door finally closing behind you feels a little louder than it should, but the peace and quiet of your room settles in your chest almost instantly.

you let out a breath you hadn’t realised you’d even been holding, your hand still resting on the handle for a second before you finally move, crossing the room.

midnight barely stirs when you walk in, still curled up at the end of the bed in the same position you’d left her in before you’d left your room to go downstairs for dinner, her eyes flicking up toward you before she settles again.

you pick your bag up from where you’d left it earlier after college, placing it on the bed as you pull your sketchbook out almost automatically to try and distract you from the anxiety you’re currently feeling.

“hi, baby..” you mumble absentmindedly as you move past your cat to place the sketchbook on your desk, your fingers brushing lightly over her head before you turn away again.

you walk back over, stopping at your desk for a second, your hands gripping the edge like it might somehow steady you, stop you pacing around the room. the sketchbook still closed flat in front of you.

you flip it open just staring at the empty page, then shut it again, running a hand through your hair as you scrape the chair back to sit, only to push yourself back up again before you’ve even properly touched the chair.

midnight shifts on the bed at the movement, her head lifting properly now as she watches you pace across the room, then back again.

you stop beside the bed, dropping into a crouch, your hand coming up to stroke slowly over her head, her eyes narrowing as she leans into the touch, completely unbothered by anything else that isn’t her.

“he’s late, midnight.” you whisper, even though she definitely won’t have the answer. “why is he so late?”

he’s never late, not before a fight.

you’ve barely finished your sentence before a tap sounds against the glass of your balcony window.

you pause for half a second, your hand still moving slowly over midnight’s fur, part of you wondering if you’ve imagined it, like the timing of your words has lined up a little too perfectly.

midnight’s head turns toward the sound before yours does, her attention fixed on the window like she’s clocked it way before you have.

another tap follows. this time a little firmer, more deliberate, enough to confirm that you in fact hadn’t imagined it.

you move back across the room without any thought nor hesitation, walking straight over to the window as you pull the curtain back with some force.

and there he is.

matt, stood on your balcony, waiting for you to let him in. looking at you like he hasn’t just jumped the gates and climbed two storeys up the side of your house just to get to you, like your dad isn’t downstairs taking tense call after call all about the person in front of you and the place he’s supposed to be front and centre of in less than ninety minutes.

you open the window but you don’t move to let him in straight away, instead looking at him for a second, your expression switching into something unimpressed.

“you’re late,” you say, quietly. “thought you weren’t coming.”

his mouth slowly turns into a smirk, one brow raising slightly like he expected this response from you.

“traffic was shit, but m’here now” he answers so easily, already shifting his body to climb inside because he knows you’ll let him in, despite the stubborn look on your face. “like i could ever miss seein’ my lucky charm before i get into that ring? no chance.”

his focus is on you properly now, not wavering from it at all.

it lingers a little longer than it needs to, while you’re deciding whether to tell him to leave, get back down the balcony, over the gates, and go where most of the town (and sheriff’s department) are currently waiting for him, or open the window and let him in.

though, you already know it’s the latter of the two. it always is.

you reach forward without saying anything, your fingers sliding against the window latch before pushing it open just enough to let him climb in, which he does with zero hesitation.

you still don’t move out the way once he’s inside though. you just stand there for a second instead, taking him in properly after not seeing him for a few days, checking that he’s still in one piece before he steps back into the ring tonight once again risking that.

“you gonna let me in any more than this or just stand there givin’ me that look?”

you huff quietly at that, taking a few small steps back to give him a little more room, your arms folding across your chest as he follows, closing the space again until he’s directly in front of you.

“you’re cutting it close tonight,” you say, your voice even quieter now that he’s actually inside your room, looking anywhere but him.

“i know,” he shrugs, his tone like it doesn’t really matter to him.

you don’t say anything else straight away, still standing there with your arms folded, giving him nothing to work with.

he watches you for a second, and you know normally he’d wait you out, but you also know that tonight the two of you don’t have time for that.

“storm...” he says, quieter this time, stepping closer.

his finger hooks gently beneath your chin, tilting your face up toward him, his touch gentle in the way it always is with you, but firm enough that you don’t have a choice to look anywhere but him now.

you hold his gaze for a second without either of you saying anything, but he breaks the silence first.

“look, m’sorry for stressin’ you by being late but i really can’t stay long,” he tells you, voice low as his thumb brushes lightly over your cheek. “chris is outside waitin’, told him i’d one day get him minnie’s number for droppin’ me here first.”

you roll your eyes at that, ignoring the second comment and answering to the first.

“yeah,” you say quietly, “i figured.”

your hands come up to rest lightly against his chest, not pushing him away, but just keeping him there.

“my dad’s on patrol at your fight tonight...” you say, quieter now.

“mhm,” he replies, “i guessed that would happen.”

you nod, your fingers fiddling with the hood of his hoodie, something to keep your hands busy. “he’s upped the patrol around the venue,” you add, “said on the phone to someone at dinner that he wants it tripled.”

he lets out a quiet breath, and a subtle eye roll that you still catch. his hand sliding from your cheek to the side of your neck, his thumb brushing just beneath where your necklace chain sits.

he leans in without waiting anymore, his head settling into the crook of your neck instinctively, the place he always ends up when you’re like this.

“just stop worryin’, yeah?” he says quietly against your skin. “you don’t need to worry so much.”

his lips brush just beneath your ear, a soft kiss placed there, followed by another, and then another, each one landing a little firmer than the last, the last one almost making your breath catch.

his mouth slowly moves along your neck, your grip tightening faintly against him, giving him easier access without thinking about it.

“matt…” you whisper, but he ignores that, humming softly, like he has no intention of stopping at all as his hand settles firmer at your waist as he pulls you just that little bit closer, like the time frame you’re working with really isn’t phasing him at all, though it should.

his kisses against your neck become firmer, and he starts to walk you back toward the bed with him, which a part of you so nearly wants to let happen, but you don’t.

you press your hands firmly against him now, stopping him properly this time.

“we can’t, you can’t break your pre fight rules...” you whisper, trying to keep your voice steady.

“and what rule’s that?”

“no sex before a fight.”

his mouth moves slightly at that, something caught between a smile and frustration as he hovers his lips over your neck for a second longer than you both know he should, part of him still debating whether he’s actually going to pull away.

“fuck...” he mutters eventually, more to himself than to you.

though he can’t see you, you lift a brow at him just slightly, not saying anything.

“stupid fuckin’ rule.” he lets slip out under his breath, and you can’t fight the giggle that falls from your lips.

“your rule, by the way.” you remind him as he moves his face from your neck, you place your hands on either side of his own, thumbs softly stroking either side of his jaw.

“didn’t think that one through when i made my pre fight rules all those years ago,” he replies easily, “definitely didn’t think i’d land a girl like you that i’m not actually even allowed to have properly.”

the sexual frustration in the air between you, and the look you’re currently sharing nearly makes you think that tonight might be the night his pre fight traditions change, but then almost like a sign, his phone buzzes, pulling you both out of it completely, your hands falling back to your sides as the sudden loss of touch is felt by you both instantly.

he pulls his phone out his back pocket, looking down at the screen as he scrolls through the numerous missed calls that’ve been left for him since he climbed through your window.

“chris,” he mutters, declining it though it buzzes again almost immediately after.

another call follows and he declines that one too, and this time when he looks up at you, his jaw’s tightened slightly. “and nick, and my dad, and coach.”

“you should go.”

he still hesitates for a second, the look on his face like he’s weighing up how much longer he can stay and still somehow make it to his fight night on time but he knows he doesn’t really have any choice but to leave now.

“i should.”

he turns towards the window, pushing it open wider again before he’s climbing back out onto the balcony like it’s nothing, like he hasn’t just taken a huge risk coming here in the first place.

you follow him over to the window, stopping just behind him as he steadies himself, climbing back over the frame, now facing you again.

the two of you not saying anything.

you lean in slightly, aiming to press a quick kiss to his cheek, though he turns his head at the last second so it lands on his lips instead. a smirk on his face again when you pull away.

you shake your head.

“good luck tonight.”

a small smile forms on his lips, one you know he saves only for you.

“don’t need luck,” his voice low. “already got you.”

he climbs down then without another word, landing quietly on the ground before he’s already moving, heading back across the garden like he hadn’t been here at all.

you lean slightly over the balcony railing, watching him for a second before he turns back, just once.

you lift your hand, blowing him a kiss that he catches mid step without slowing down, a small shake of his head following before he turns again, climbing back over your garden gate before he’s gone again.