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cjlouwho · 22 hours ago

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Sick of It

in which Tommy gets sick, and he and Buck head towards making up.

The first time Buck gets a call from a number he doesn't recognize, he ignores it.

He does the same the second time too.

The third time, he waits for it to go to voicemail so he can block it.

“Why don't you just answer?” Hen asked, annoyed by his grumbling. “Might be something important.”

“No. Someone gave my number to a debt collector and I've been dodging calls for a Victor Fornell all week. It's nothing.”

He'd barely had time to block the number and resume his search for new bread recipes when Bobby was walking out of his office and calling out to him on the couch.

“Buck, Captain Dominick just called me.”

The name got Buck's attention fast. He stood. “The captain at 217? Why? Wh- What's wrong?”

“Calm down, Buck. Tommy didn't show up for work today and Dominick couldn't get ahold of him. You heard from him lately?”

“N- No. No, I- Was Captain Dominick the one trying to call me?”

Bobby nodded. “Apparently, Tommy put you down as his emergency contact a few months ago. Like I said, could be nothing,” he repeated, noticing Buck's heavy breathing, “it's just not exactly like him to not show up.”

“No,” Buck agreed. “No, it's not. Um, Boss, I-”

Bobby held up a hand to stop him. “I'm not stopping you,” he said, “but I also don't want you going alone. Chim,” he said, glancing around Buck to see all the others paying close attention, “why don't you head out with Buck and see what's going on?”

Chimney nodded, getting up and heading for the stairs. “Let me grab my bag and keys!” he called out to Buck. “I'll meet you at the car.”

Buck already had his phone pulled up to Tommy's name, typing out a text to ask if he was okay. He sent one text, then another, then another.

“Eddie, ha- have you talked to him at all? Since we, um, since the breakup?”

Eddie shook his head. “He broke up with you,” he reasoned. “I figured that's the end of that.”

“You're joking.”

“You're my best friend, Man, I wasn't gonna take his side.”

“Eddie, you've gotta b-”

“Okay, okay,” Bobby interrupted. “Buck, you need to get going.”

Buck turned his phone toward Bobby, eyes pleading. “He... He's not answering me, Bobby.”

“Go.”

*****

“His spare key is in one of these,” Buck said, lifting up rock after rock in the flower bed at the front of Tommy's house.

“We could try knocking on the door first, Buck.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Buck replied, waving Chimney off. “Try it. I'll keep looking.”

Chimney knocked three times, then waited. Called out Tommy's name, and knocked again.

“Maybe he's out?” Chimney suggested just as Buck found the fake rock.

“His car is here, Chim.”

“Could've gone for a walk.”

“When he's supposed to be at work?”

“Just trying to be positive here.”

Buck unlocked the door and entered slowly, afraid of what he might find. “Tommy?!” he called. “T- Tommy, it's Evan.”

“And Howie!” Chimney added. “You here, Buddy?”

They waited for an answer, then continued on into the house when they didn't get a reply.

It was dark inside, the only light filtering in through a couple of open windows.

It was messy too, which was unlike Tommy. He was always so put together; had a space for everything and liked it that way.

But now there were half empty glasses on the kitchen counter, dishes in the sink. Take out containers were on the coffee table in the living room.

There was also a ridiculous amount of plants on every available surface.

“I think Tommy might have you beat in the breakup grief department, Buckley.”

Buck ignored him in favor of calling for Tommy again. “Tommy! You here?”

“I'll check the garage,” Chimney said, he and Buck splitting up to cover more area. Buck headed down the hallway, tilting his head a bit when he noticed a light shining from underneath the bathroom door.

“Tommy?” Buck felt anxious in a way he wasn't sure he'd ever felt before. As he neared the bathroom, he heard a weak groan, and then the sound of someone shuffling.

Every horrible thought ran through his head in a matter of seconds. What if Tommy was hurt? What if someone had tried to murder him? What if that was the murderer on the other side of the door right now?

“I'm coming in!” he exclaimed, shoving the door open as he braced himself for whatever was waiting on the other side.

And there was Tommy, lying on the bathroom floor. Not murdered, but definitely not okay.

“Oh my God,” Buck breathed out. “Chimney, in here!”

Buck knelt down beside Tommy, who was curled on his side, eyes clenched shut, practically vibrating with chills even as sweat covered his face.

“Tommy, what's wrong? Wh- What happened?” he asked, resting a hand over Tommy's forehead. He was burning up.

“I- I passed out, I think,” Tommy replied, teeth chattering. He managed to turn his head enough to look up at Buck. “I- Why're you here?”

“Doesn't matter. Chim!”

“I'm here, I'm here,” Chimney said, rounding the corner. “Whoa! Whatcha doin' on the floor, Tommy?” he asked, managing to keep his cool far better than Buck.

“I'm really... I'm okay, guys.” Tommy's weak voice betrayed his words.

“Don't think that's true, Man. Buck, mind giving us a little room?”

Buck nodded, pushing the hair off Tommy's forehead before standing and moving to the doorway.

Chimney knelt beside Tommy, putting on a pair of gloves before beginning to look him over.

“You fall?”

“K- Kinda. I felt like I wa- was gonna puke, so I was l- l... leaning over the toilet. Then I must've passed out.”

Chimney began to feel around his head and neck. “Can you tell me the year?”

“2024.”

“Your name?”

“Tommy K- Kinard.”

“And where are you right now?”

“Ugh,” Tommy groaned, a look of disgust on his face. “My bathroom floor.”

“Alright. I don't think you've got a concussion, but there's definitely something going on.”

“Ya... Ya think?” Tommy deadpanned.

“There's that humor we all know and love. I need to look you over, Bud, but I'm gonna have to move you a little. Can you turn to me a bit so you're laying flat?”

Slowly, Tommy turned, briefly glancing up at an anxious Buck before closing his eyes. “Hurts,” he grunted.

Carefully, Chimney began to feel around his abdomen. “Tommy, you still got your appendix?”

Tommy shook his head. “No."

“What first brought you into the bathroom?”

“Had t- to pee.” He sucked in a shaky breath, a bead of sweat dripping down his temple. “Then puke. Then I mu- must've passed out.”

“Mm.” Chimney felt around Tommy's midsection, stopping when Tommy practically jerked away from him. “You been having pain in your side?”

“Mhm.”

“What about your back and/or groin?”

Tommy curled back in on himself, lying sideways on the bathroom floor. “Yeah.”

“Chim?” Buck spoke up from the doorway. “What is it?”

Chimney raised a finger at him. “One second.” He turned back to Tommy, pulling a infrared thermometer out of his bag and pointing it at Tommy's forehead. He whistled when the temperature popped up. “Quite the fever you've got there. Tommy, does it hurt when you pee?”

Tommy managed to glare aback at him.

“It's important, Bud.”

“Mmm,” Tommy groaned. “Mhm. Yeah, i- it does.”

Chimney nodded. He placed the thermometer back in the bag and rested a hand on Tommy's shoulder. “I believe that you, my friend, have a kidney infection. A pretty bad one at that. How long have you been hurting for?”

“Few... Few days. Not this bad though.”

“I'm gonna call for an ambulance. Infection this bad might've gone into your bloodstream. Buck's gonna stay with you while I wait outside for the ambulance, okay?”

“It's really,” he had to stop as a wave of chills came over him. “Really no problem.”

Chimney rolled his eyes, standing and turning to Buck. “I'm afraid he might be close to septic shock,” he whispered. “He's gonna keep fighting against going to the hospital though, however weak he might be. Talk some sense into your man while I put the call in.”

“He's not my-” Chimney pushed past him and headed down the hall, “man.”

Buck moved back into the small space next to Tommy. Hesitantly, he reached out, his hand hovering over Tommy's arm. He'd touched him before, when he was checking for a fever. That had been in a rush, without much thought.

Now, he wasn't sure. Wasn't sure if he was allowed to touch.

He pushed the thought aside as another almost violent wave of chills overcame Tommy.

“It's okay,” he soothed, running his hand up and down Tommy's arm. “It's okay. Chimney's got an ambulance on the way.”

“I think... I just n- need to rest. I- I'll be okay,” he tried to insist. “It's n- nothing.”

“Tommy, it's not nothing. You're crying right now.” Buck leaned forward, gently running his thumb across Tommy's cheek, wiping away a tear. He'd never seen him like this before, and it was terrifying. “Do you wanna try to get up? Would it be more comfortable to wait on th- the ambulance in bed?”

“Don't think I can. Everything gets t- to dizzy when I move.”

“Okay. That's okay. Here, why don't I...” Buck's voice drifted off as he maneuvered Tommy and himself into a better position. One where Tommy's neck wasn't awkwardly angled down in a way that was sure to cause him more pain later.

By lifting Tommy's head slightly (and slowly), Buck managed to slide between him and the bathtub. He straightened out his legs, one on either side of Tommy, then gently rested Tommy's head on his stomach.

Tommy, still on his side, unconsciously curled his hand around Buck's thigh, gripping onto his pants.

It was quiet for a bit, then, “Ev- Evan?”

“I'm here, Tommy,” Buck answered quietly, running his fingers through Tommy's unkept and sweaty curls, softly massaging his head.

“It r-” his voice was cut off by a jerk, chills prickling up all over his body, “really hurts.”

“I know. Help will be here soon.”

“I- I tried to ignore it.”

“I can tell. Not sure that was the wisest choice.”

The side of Tommy's mouth managed to lift into a small smile, but as soon as it was there, it was gone, a grimace taking over.

“Maybe... Maybe I j- just need t- to sleep it off.”

“Well, you can sleep it off at the hospital.”

“I don't... I don't think I-”

“You're going to the hospital, Tommy, whether you like it or not,” Buck interrupted, matter-of-factly.

Tommy jerked again, a little whine slipping out as he curled in closer to Buck. “I- I'm sorry,” he said, nearly whimpering. “I'm sorry.”

Buck wanted to cry. Tommy- big, tall, strong, Tommy- looked so incredibly small right now. Like a scared child, afraid he was going to get in trouble for being sick.

Buck held him the best he could without hurting him. “You have nothing to be sorry for, Tommy.”

*****

When Tommy woke up, it was to Buck by his side. He was sitting in the visitor's chair, his head resting on the bed next to Tommy's thigh, their hands intertwined.

It made Tommy's chest ache. He wanted Buck there, wanted him to stay, but he didn't deserve that. He didn't deserve him.

Not anymore.

Tommy wiggled his fingers a bit. He didn't want to startle Buck, but he also thought it'd be best to wake him up.

Buck's head popped up quickly. He let Tommy go, using the back of his hand to wipe away the little bits of drool running down his chin.

“Good morning,” Tommy said, grinning over at him. “Or afternoon?”

“Night,” Buck informed him, causing Tommy to glance toward the window. A drawn shade blocked any potential view.

“I don't... I don't really remember getting here,” Tommy admitted.

“You, uh, you passed out in the ambulance. You'd wake up every once in a while, but you were kinda out of it.”

“Hm,” Tommy hummed. “Long day.”

“That was two days ago, actually.”

“Wow... Long week then, I guess.”

“Yeah.”

After a beat of awkward silence, Buck suddenly stood. “You thirsty?” he asked, pointing over toward the tray table. “I- I can fix you a cup of water.”

“Sure,” Tommy answered. “That'd be good.”

Buck nodded, but didn't move. He stared at the water, making no effort to actually go over and get it.

“Um, Buck?”

“The doctor said twelve more hours and you'd have been a dead man.”

Tommy closed his eyes, readying himself. He knew where this was going. “Buck-”

“What were you thinking, Tommy? You had to have been in pretty bad pain for a few days, at least. You should have gone to the doctor!”

“I know.”

“Or you could have at least called me, or Eddie, or Chimney. Somebody! Let someone know you were sick.”

“They're not my people to call, Buck.”

“Stop calling me that, and don't say that! I don't own them, Tommy, you could have called!”

“Are you really fighting a dying man right now?” Tommy pouted, wincing as moved himself up the bed slightly.

“You're not dying anymore,” Buck corrected, “and yes, I am! Seeing you like that, Tommy, it was... it was terrifying. The idea of you not being around i- is terrifying.”

“I'm sorry. Really, I am. I didn't mean to scare you. I didn't,” Tommy paused, taking a breath. “I didn't really think about calling anyone. It's not what I do when I'm sick. You just power through, you know? I figured I'd get better. Absolutely did not plan on passing out on my bathroom floor. Would have brought a pillow and a blanket with me, made things a little more cozy.”

Buck rolled his eyes. “You're using humor as a defense mechanism.”

Tommy raised his eyebrows. “Is it working?”

“Not even a little bit.”

Tommy sighed, but gave Buck a smile. “Listen, um, thank you for coming and everything. I'm gonna be fine though, so you can-”

Buck's face fell instantly. “I swear to God, if you're telling me to leave.”

“Buck-”

“I told you to quit calling me that! To you, I'm Evan, and I'm not leaving you! I don't know what it is about me that makes you think that that's what I do, but it's not!”

“Evan-”

“And I'm also sick of everyone telling me what I should or shouldn't do, so jot that down!”

“Evan-”

“And I'm sick of you acting like you're not worthy, or whatever the hell you're doing, because it's not true. And I also know you're doing worse than I am with our breakup, which I didn't think was possible! I saw your place, it's a mess! So don't you-”

“Evan!”

“What?!” Buck yelled.

“Why don't you sit down and we'll talk, okay?”

Buck eyed him curiously. “Really?”

“Mhm.” Tommy patted toward the chair beside his bed. “I think we both need it.”

Buck stood straighter, puffing out his chest. “Y- Yeah. Yeah, okay.” He went to sit, but Tommy stopped him before he could.

“But,” he said quickly, “could I get water first? I actually am thirsty.”

“Oh, damn it!” Buck exclaimed, eyes widening. He hurried over to the tray table, pouring a glass of water and grabbing a straw. “Sorry about that,” he said with a little laugh. “Got distracted, you know, yelling at you.”

“It's fine,” Tommy assured him. “I probably deserved it.”

“Oh you definitely did.” He shooed Tommy's hands away from the cup as he brought the straw up to his mouth. “Just sip, I'll hold.”

“Yes, Sir.”

They were both silent for a few seconds while Tommy drank, and then. “Tommy?”

“Yeah?”

“I- I want to be here, okay? I need you to know that.”

Tommy stared up at him, giving him a nod. “Okay,” he replied. “I want you here.”

#bucktommy #911 #tommy kinard #evan buckley #911 abc #this is one of those I sat with for too long #and I hate it now #but I don't want to delete it because I spent too much time on it #so here you go #do with it what you will #go with god #rest in peace

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snoopychris · 23 hours ago

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introducing... nerd!matt and cheerleader!reader

warnings: mentions of vomit, underage drinking

matt's a little weird, quiet, and regularly ignored by other students. you're the girl who everybody in school wants to be (and matt wants to be with.)

when matt first started high school, he thought it would be a brand new start. he thought that he'd finally have more than two friends. he thought that people would finally notice him for being more than an extension of his brothers. he even thought that maybe, just maybe, girls would start to notice him. that was four years ago. even now, during the first semester of his senior year, matt does not have more than two friends, people do not see him as more than “the tight end’s brother”, “the photographers brother,” (even though some people have started seeing him as “that nerdy kid.”) and girls, in matt’s eyes, do not notice him.

when you first started high school, you felt on top of the world. you had an amazing group of friends, you felt surrounded by people you loved, and you felt seen. everybody loved you and the things you represented. always so full of pep and school spirit, there was no doubt you’d be cheer captain senior year. your 18th birthday was the biggest sign of being so loved. chris threw you a party at his house, and it seemed like there wasn’t a single person from your school who was missing. at some point through the night, your love for partying and drinking became pure hatred. you were leaned over the toilet of some random bathroom in the sturniolo house, hair being held back by chris- or at least, you swore it was chris at first. after a few minutes of vomiting, you came to the realization that there was no way it was chris. he was too nervous and sweet to be chris. that was the first time you really noticed matt. you had seen him around before, but you’d never really talked to him, nothing much more than a smile in the hallway or a thumbs up when he got a question right in class. the night of your 18th birthday party was the first time you had ever thought that “love at first sight” could be a real thing.

matt swore that you didn’t even remember that night. he was fully convinced that the next time you saw him in the hallway you would turn a blind eye, send him the usual smile, and continue walking alongside his brother and the rest of your friends. the truth of it was, the next time you saw matt in the hallway, you stopped in your tracks and grabbed onto his arm. matt’s heart did something he didnt think was actually possible and skipped multiple beats as he pulled out one of his airpods. your voice was quiet, but it was still the sweet, peppy voice that everybody in the school loved, “thank you… for the other night.” you notice the way he swallows and you can practically see the way the cogs in his head are turning “n… yeah… um… of course. its no problem at all.” you tuck a single strand of hair behind your ear, something that’s usually a tell tale sign of you being attracted to somebody, a habit you’ve always had and your friends have picked up on. as he begins to walk away, you feel your heart slightly sink before chris pulls you from your spot in the hallway. “theres no way you’ve got a crush on the sturniolo that still has a pokemon backpack”

๋࣭⭑ a/n: first post omggg ahhhh nervous. ive seen a lot of nerd and shy matt au's around and this takes inspo from a mix of a lot of those but there's nobody in particular to give credit to (but if you'd like some please feel free to message me and lmk!!!) divider credits to @bernardsbendystraws

#⋆˙⟡snoopychris #⋆˙⟡nerd!matt #⋆˙⟡matt!#matt sturniolo #matt sturniolo fluff #matt sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo series #matthew sturniolo #matthew sturniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo au #the sturniolo triplets #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo triplets fluff

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olvxva · 2 days ago

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unspoken flames | joost klein x f!reader

part II

✦ wc: 2.7 k

✦ warnings: angst, friends to not really lovers, smoking, mentions of drinking, rpf

✦ an: got a request about friends to lovers, but ofc i had to make this as angsty as possible hehe. i'm thinking about writing a second part so let me know if i should do it ;)

pushing your way through the crowd, you dreamed of nothing more than getting outside as quickly as possible. chaos surrounded you from all sides – the intense smell of sweat and alcohol mingled with the pounding bass of music that seemed to seep into your very bones. the lights cast surreal shadows on sweaty faces, adding to the overwhelming atmosphere. every step was a challenge, and every accidental brush with another body only heightened your urge to escape.

your gaze darted desperately until you finally spotted the much-desired metal door. its surface gleamed under the club's flashing lights. you fixed your full attention on it, ignoring everything else around you. with all your strength, you pushed it open, as if that single motion held the promise of freedom.

outside, everything felt different. the cold night wind wrapped around your overheated skin, soothing its burning sensation. the air smelled of dampness and the city, each breath filling you with a sense of renewed energy. you closed your eyes for a moment, leaning your back against the rough concrete wall. its cool surface seeped through the thin fabric of your clothing.

the wind played with your hair, lifting it gently, and you felt as though time had slowed. the chaos that had surrounded you moments ago now seemed like an unreal memory. the music still echoed in your ears, but it was muffled and distant. at last, you felt the tension go away, replaced by a calmness that filled every corner of your body.

you reached into your bag, feeling an abrupt need to deliver nicotine to your brain, desperate for relief. your fingers plunged into its depths, brushing against everything except what you were searching for.

“shit” you muttered under your breath, rummaging further into the abyss of your small, red bag. its contents seemed infinite, as if all the frustration built up in your body had found an outlet in this attempt to locate a cigarette. finally, your fingers brushed against the cool, metallic shape of your lighter, and soon after, you found the familiar pack of cigarettes.

you pulled a cigarette from the pack and placed it between your lips, the red lipstick marking the tip. your fingers trembled slightly as you brought the lighter closer to your face, focusing on the spark wheel. but instead of the expected flame, you only heard the dry click of it failing.

"are you kidding me?" you whispered desperately, trying to ignite a tiny flame, as if your determination could somehow bring that damn lighter back to life.

"really? right now?"

the wind toyed with the unlit cigarette in your mouth, and you began to wonder whether you should go back inside for a new lighter or just give up entirely.

you lifted your gaze, hoping someone might rescue you from this unfortunate situation. turning your head to the right, you heard voices and laughter coming from that direction. without thinking too much, you adjusted your coat on your shoulders, trying to look more composed than you felt, and headed toward them.

"uhm, hey, sorry to bother you…" you cleared your throat uncertainly as you approached.

three pairs of eyes immediately turned toward you, one pair in particular catching your attention. his eyes, shining in the streetlight, held something hypnotic that threw you off balance for a moment.

"i just wanted to ask if you might have a lighter to borrow?" you replied with a slightly tipsy smile, trying to mask your shyness. you noticed the corner of his lips lift in a nearly imperceptible grin before he reached into his pocket.

"anything for a beautiful lady" said the blonde, handing you the small metal object that gleamed in the lamplight.

you twirled the lighter in your fingers, examining its smooth surface as if you wanted to memorize this small but saving gesture. you looked up at the blonde and flashed him the widest smile you could manage at that moment.

"thank you" you said, your voice carrying sincere gratitude.

the blonde returned your smile, his eyes sparkling with amusement.

"no problem. if I can help in a crisis, why not?" he joked, and the rest of the group smiled in amusement as well.

you pressed the lighter to your cigarette, finally letting the small flame catch the end. you inhaled deeply, feeling the nicotine spread through your body. as you exhaled the smoke, you glanced at the blonde once more.

"you’re saving my life," you said half-jokingly, fully aware of how ironic it sounded.

and that’s how you met Joost. something in the air changed that evening, and from that moment on, everything was different. you weren’t sure if it was his warm smile or the effortless jokes he threw around, but something made you feel different. anyway, whatever began that night, on the cold sidewalk outside the club, was bound to develop into the most wonderful friendship you had ever experienced.

it didn’t take long for you to get to know his friends and each one of them loved you as much as you loved them. you felt like you had fallen into a big, loving family you never knew you were missing, though you never admitted it. they were there when you needed support – whether during a wild night full of laughter and alcohol, or in quiet conversations at three in the morning, when the world seemed heavier than usual.

still, it was joost who was the first thought that crossed your mind when you opened your eyes every morning, and the one who lingered in your thoughts as you drifted to sleep. your friendship was perfectly normal, at least on the surface. conversations flowed effortlessly, from casual jokes to deep discussions that lasted for hours. he was someone who knew how to make you forget everything that weighed you down. he could listen when words failed you.

there was nothing extraordinary about you two, yet you felt that every little gesture – the way he’d fix your hair after you made a joke too stupid not to laugh at, or how he could read the exhaustion in your voice before you even mentioned it – meant more than you were willing to admit.

in his presence, the world became simpler. sometimes it felt like you could tell him everything, and other times, silence was enough because you understood each other without words. at some point, he became a constant in your life, a part of your everyday routine.

that’s why, when you saw him that evening, talking to some girl at the bar, something inside you froze. his smile – the same one you knew so well – was directed only at her. you felt a kind of tightness in your stomach, somewhere between irritation and sadness, something you couldn’t name. your heart started to beat faster, and every second of watching them seemed like unnecessary cruelty.

“damn it” you muttered under your breath, turning away, but the image of the two of them had already burned itself into your memory.

for a moment, you tried to rationalize – after all, nothing had ever happened between you, right? just friendship, only friendship. that was how it was meant to be, how it should be. but the tightness in your stomach, the pang you felt each time he glanced toward someone else, told a completely different story.

you knew you were screwed. it wasn’t that you wanted something to change. it was the unwanted, painful realization that Joost had never been "just a friend" to you.

you returned to the group of your mutual friends, still trying to suppress the emotions that clouded your mind. your face felt as pale as a wall. not looking ahead, you bumped into Apson. he looked at you with slight concern, raising an eyebrow in worry, though his lips still wore a gentle smile.

“hey, y/n, where are you rushing off to? everything okay? you look like you've seen a ghost” he joked, trying to ease the tension that was clearly hanging in the air.

“i'm fine” you quickly replied, trying to sound convincing, though even to yourself, you sounded weak “i think i’m just feeling a little off.”

his eyes narrowed slightly, as if trying to read something more from your face, but before he could say anything, you already looked away, ready to leave. everything inside you was screaming for escape – from this place, these people, and most of all, from the thought that had started to take root in your mind that evening.

you grabbed your coat and, throwing a quick “bye, everyone” over your shoulder, left the club. deep down, you were thankful Joost hadn’t been part of all this. you wouldn’t have been able to look him in the eye that evening.

his smile, which had always made you feel good, now seemed like something you couldn’t bear. besides, what were you supposed to say to him? “you know, Joost, i think i’m starting to feel something for you, but i don’t know what to do about it”? it would be ridiculous. instead, you’d rather just disappear, give yourself a moment to calm down, to understand what exactly had just happened. for now, you didn’t want to think about what awaited you when you’d see him again.

lost in deep thought, you didn’t even notice when you found yourself at the door to your apartment. you turned the key with trembling hands, eager to get inside as quickly as possible. you shut the door behind you, and the tension in your body eased slightly, though the unease still clung to you. you needed nothing more right now than a shower and some sleep. you tossed your coat onto the chair, slipped off your shoes, and thought of nothing but a brief escape from your thoughts.

you stepped under the stream of hot water, feeling the tension finally start to ease. yet, despite everything, deep in your mind, you could still hear his laughter, see her gaze. you felt like you had come to a standstill, trapped in a circle that you yourself had created.

for a moment, you closed your eyes, trying to escape it all, but something inside told you that the night wasn’t over yet. the feeling of unease crushed you from the inside.

you stepped out of the warm shower, feeling a little better. your body craved sleep more than ever before. dressed in the first t-shirt and sweatpants you found, you looked more like a shadow of yourself than someone ready for bed. hurriedly, you entered your bedroom, closing the door behind you. your body was ready to forget about everything, even if just for a while.

you lay down on the bed, closing your eyes and immediately feeling the weight of your eyelids. it seemed that sleep would finally be your escape. suddenly, amidst the silence, a loud sound of the doorbell rang out.

you paused for a moment, as if the sound had pulled you out of your stupor. your heart began to race, and an unsettling thought crossed your mind – someone unexpectedly appeared at this hour. you slowly got out of bed, feeling every part of your body begging for rest, but you knew you had to check who it was.

before you could make it to the hallway, the sound repeated, louder, more insistent. only one person came to mind who could possibly show up at this hour. you cautiously opened the door, and before you could react, the tall blond with a mustache barged into your apartment. you closed the door behind him and turned toward the living room, where he now stood. he looked at you, his face tense. he was angry, very angry.

"it's nice to see you too" you blurted out suddenly, fed up with the strange tension hanging in the air. this was not how you wanted to spend your night.

"what the hell, y/n, what's going on with you?" he replied after a moment. his voice was full of frustration, and his eyes held not just anger, but fear "you walk out of the club without a word, don't answer your phone. i thought something happened to you, damn it!"

his words hit you like a cold shower and the mix of anger and fear made you feel like you were guilty of something you didn't fully understand yet. you paused, trying to calm down, but you couldn't explain why you had disappeared so suddenly. and you had really forgotten to charge the damn phone right when you got back.

"sorry," you muttered softly, though it didn't sound like a real apology "i just… needed to get away."

you couldn't tell him everything. you couldn't reveal your feelings, because you were afraid it would ruin everything. you couldn't lose him.

"you needed to get away?" Joost almost shouted "from what exactly, that you had to disappear without anyone knowing where you were?"

his voice echoed in your apartment, and you felt the tension inside you grow. Joost's words were like blades, hitting straight at your heart. you knew he was right, that you had run away without explaining, but you couldn’t find the right words to explain why. how could you tell him that seeing him with that girl made you want to disappear?

"Joost, i…" you started, but your voice cracked. you took a deep breath, trying to calm yourself "i just… felt stuffy. i needed some air."

his gaze became even more intense. there was something in it that made you want to both hide from him and scream everything that had been weighing on your heart.

"stuffy? really, y/n? you think i’m going to believe it’s just about some damn need for air? i’ve known you long enough to know when something’s off!"

you didn’t know how to respond. the truth hung on the tip of your tongue, ready to spill out, but you held it back at the last moment. could you risk everything you had by telling him what was really going on?

"Joost, drop it. it doesn't matter. as you can see, i'm alive, i'm fine, and i just want to go to bed already" you replied evasively.

he looked at you with raised eyebrows. he wasn’t buying your words. in his eyes, there was still a mixture of frustration and concern that made you feel even more trapped.

"don’t try to feed me such bullshit" he said in a lowered voice, but his tone didn't lose any of its intensity "i know you better, y/n. i’m not an idiot. something’s wrong, and you’re pushing me away as if that’s going to change anything."

you opened your mouth to say something, but no words came. Joost stood in front of you, still looking at you with determination, making you feel like you were backed into a corner.

"i’m not letting go" he added, taking a step toward you "so either you tell me what's going on, or i’ll stand here all night."

"great, well, i wish you a good night then" you threw back, wanting to end this conversation before it completely got out of control. you tried to walk past him toward the bedroom, but Joost was faster.

he grabbed your arm, turning you toward him. his gaze drilled into you, intense and full of emotions that seemed too complicated to read.

"we're not done" he said quietly but firmly "you can’t just brush me off like that. not after you left me in the club without a word."

he was so close now that you felt all the emotions you'd been suppressing throughout the evening rise to the surface with double the force.

"Joost…" you began, but he quickly interrupted you.

"i want to know. why did you run away? what happened?" his voice was no longer angry, but rather full of desperation, which gripped you harder than his hand on your shoulder.

Joost looked at you, and his words echoed in your mind like a mantra. there was something in them that broke down all the walls you had so carefully built. feeling like you couldn’t run away anymore, you gathered the courage to look him straight in the eye.

"why?!" you asked almost screaming "what would you do if i told you i couldn’t stay there because… because seeing you with her, at that damn bar, made me want to disappear?!"

his face froze, and his hand slowly lowered from your shoulder, as if each of your words pierced him deeper than he could have predicted. the room fell silent, but in your head, it was loud.

"what do you mean by that?" he asked finally, his voice a shadow of the anger he had earlier, replaced now by something more delicate, more fragile.

you took a deep breath, feeling like there was no turning back.

"that seeing you…" you started, but your words broke "seeing you with someone else makes me feel like someone is ripping my heart out. because, damn it, Joost, i think about you every day, every night, and what i saw today just made me realize i'm alone in all of this!"

the air between you thickened to the point where you felt like you could barely breathe. Joost stood still, and his eyes were filled with something that made you regret your words for a moment. at the same time, you knew you had to say it, even if it meant everything might change.

Joost looked at you with such an expression that for a moment, you hoped what you said would change something. but then his lips twitched, and a mix of regret and uncertainty appeared in his eyes, effectively crushing that hope.

"y/n…" he started, his voice soft, almost breaking. "i- i don't know what to say."

he took a step back, as if he needed space, and his hand rubbed the back of his neck in a nervous gesture.

"you’re one of the most important people in my life," he continued, each word feeling like another sting "but… i just don’t see us that way..."

those words pierced you like a knife. you felt your heart contract with pain, and the world around you seemed to blur.

"i don’t want to lose you" he added quickly, as if afraid that every glance from you meant the end of your relationship "but what you feel… i can’t give you that."

you didn’t know what to say. every word seemed inadequate and the silence between you was heavier than anything you’d ever experienced.

"i’m sorry..." he said finally, his voice trembling, but he couldn’t look you in the eye.

and before you could speak, before you could react in any way, Joost turned and left, closing the door behind him. you were left alone in your apartment, surrounded by a silence that sounded louder than any sound.

#joost klein x reader #joost klein x y/n #joost klein x you #joost klein angst #joost klein #joost

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ostaramoon · 22 hours ago

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02. takes one to know one

ᯓ★ story index abt, you join your new friend, outlaw!dean, in a little game of cops and robbers. warnings, robbery, guns, suggestive language, sprinkle of angsty hidden feelings, there's only one bed couch (more of that in prt3!!) 2.7k words

The sheriff had a lot more going on than just civil duties, the vast ranch set picturesque before you can attest for that. The house itself is massive, pure white siding glowing in the moonlight. Beyond that, a sleek brown barn cuts into the night sky. From where you and Dean sit, crouched behind one of the dozen jagged shaped trees that line the outskirts of the property, it looks deceptively peaceful.

But you know better.

This stash of gold Dean assures you is hidden within those walls, isn’t gonna be an easy swipe. Guards patrol the quiet ranch, a few are pacing the front as you watch and search for a blindspot.

“You sure about doin’ this, darlin’?” Dean drawls in a hushed whisper, his eyes light and playful, almost daring you to say no.

Your narrow-eyed gaze goes toe-to-toe with his, your lips curling into a smile. “I was born sure, Winchester.” you quip, not missing a beat.

Dean’s husky voice drops lower, momentarily lacking it’s usual cocky drawl, “you just stick to the plan, alright? You do that for me ‘n we’ll be swimmin’ in gold before sunrise.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t ignore the steady thrum of adrenaline in your veins. The plan—Dean’s plan—was simple enough: get past the guards, crack the safe and get the hell out of dodge. Simple, of course, was a relative term when talking about breaking into the home of a man who probably shot first and asked questions—never.

“Remind me again why I agreed to this?” you tease, tucking your body closer to his. Your chin grazing his leather-clad shoulder as you both keep steady eyes on the ranch.

Dean gives a quick glance, the moonlight catching in the green of his eyes. That pretty grin of his making a slow return. “Because you couldn’t resist me.”

Playfully hitting his arm, you shoot back at him, “or maybe I couldn’t resist the payday.” His eyes are back on you, lingering as his lashes slowly lift as he takes in your features at this newfound closeness. He merely offers a quiet hum in response, brushing against you as he shifts to hand you a small set of lockpicks.

“Figure, with the way you work a cue stick,” he mumbles, voice low and as teasing as his eye contact, “you got this part handled.” He places the small box in your hand, clasping his large hands on either side of yours as he smirks, “And I’ve got a knack for getting into trouble. Perfect match, huh?”

Before you could reply, the sound of boots crunching on gravel causes both your heads to snap towards the ranch. A guard passes by, just a few yards away, his rifle glinting in the moonlight. Dean’s playful demeanor is entirely consumed by a sharp alertness that makes you wonder just how many times he’s been in a situation like this.

The stillness passes as the guard meanders away, the sound of his boots dying out in the quiet of the desert. Your new partner’s shoulders relax at the false alarm. That lopsided smile playing at his lips again as he tugs you closer, his nose brushing your cheekbone.

“Showtime, baby.” Dean whispers, pulling back with a wink as two fingers reach up to tip his hat.

The two of you slip through the shadows of the ranch like ghosts. A mere step between your bodies as you stick close to the edges of the house where the moonlight doesn’t touch. Dean leads, moving with surprising stealth for someone so broad. Every now and then, he glanced back at you, giving a little nod of reassurance. His focused eyes softened slightly each time he turned back.

Moving through the property was easier than you thought, but Dean’s uncanny sense for danger has made it so. He pauses just before a light sweeps over your path, his hand shooting out to pull you into the shadow of a nearby tree when he detects movement before you do. The guards are predictable, too. Their routes timed perfectly to give just enough room to duck behind a stack of barrels or hop over a fence. One guard left his post at the backdoor, leaving an opening to slip into the darkened home.

You follow Dean’s silent lead of avoiding spots of creaky floorboards as you step inside, pulse thrumming with adrenaline. As you move through the dark, Dean peeks through doors with deliberate slowness. You watch between him and the back door, until he’s motioning you over with the flick of a finger.

The study was just as grand as you’d imagined—dark wood paneling, glass cases displaying expensive weapons and memorabilia. A massive desk cluttered with papers sits before two large windows. In the center space, a portrait of some grim-faced ancestor takes up most of the wall.

Dean’s already hovering over it, inspecting the frame. The sharp edges of his side profile illuminated by the moonlight spilling in through the window. His eyes finally catch yours, nodding for you to come over, a sly grin on his lips as he leans down over your shoulder.

“These rich sons of bitches are always so predictable.” He laughs dryly, “go on ‘n tug on that side of the frame for me, Sweetheart.”

You don’t waste a second, pulling on the frame until it pops open. Swinging like a hidden door, revealing a built in safe on the adjacent wall. Pulling the small box of tools Dean gave you earlier, you get to work on the silver lock. The tumblers click softly as you go, each sound loud in the otherwise silent room. Dean stood behind you, close enough to hear his steady breathing. Keeping an eye on the door, his hand resting lightly on the gun tucked into his waistband.

“Got it,” you whispered after what felt like an eternity. The safe door swung open, revealing stacks of gold bars that gleamed even in the dim light.

Dean let out a low whistle. “Now that’s a sight.”

You quickly began transferring the bars into the canvas bag Dean had brought, your heart pounding with a mix of excitement and fear.

This plan of his had gone so smoothly, too damn smooth to be more accurate.

Just as you finish zipping the bag, heart still hammering in your chest, a muffled voice barks from the hallway, “check the study!”

Dean’s jaw tightened as he reached for the gun tucked in his belt, but the door burst open before he could draw. Two guards stormed in, their guns trained on you both.

“Drop the bag,” one of them ordered, his eyes narrowing.

Your mind raced as Dean slowly raised his hands, palms out in mock surrender. His smirk returned, cool and steady, as if staring down the barrels of two guns was just a typical Thursday night for him.

“Well,” he drawled, his gaze sliding to you. “Guess now’s a good time to make a confession.”

Your stomach dropped. “Dean—”

“I mean, might as well, right?” he continued, cutting you off. His smirk softened into something maddeningly sincere, his eyes holding yours even as the guards barked for him to shut up. “You’re the prettiest little thing I’ve ever seen. And if I were a better man, I’d have asked you on a proper date. Y’know, steak dinner and all that crap.”

You blinked, completely thrown, but before you could respond, Dean’s hand shot out, grabbing the desk lamp and hurling it at one of the guards. The heavy base struck him square in the face, and chaos erupted.

Dean didn’t hesitate. He ducked under the second guard’s arm, grabbing the man’s wrist and twisting it until the gun clattered to the floor. “Move!” he shouted at you, his voice sharp.

You didn’t need to be told twice. Snatching the bag, you bolted for the window, Dean hot on your heels. He shoved you ahead of him, glass shattering as you both tumbled through the opening and into the cool night air.

The shouts behind you were nearly drowned out by the pounding of your heart. Bullets whirl through the air, but Dean grabbed your hand, dragging you across the open yard and toward the safety of the rugged desert terrain ahead.

You didn’t stop running until the ranch was a distant glow behind you, your legs screaming in protest as you collapsed against a tree.

Dean slid down next to you, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. A laugh escaped him, soft and incredulous. “Hell of a night,” he muttered.

A wicked laughing fit hurls out of you through panting breaths, reeling from the cooling adrenaline icing your veins. “You really had me for a second, y’know,” you manage through heavy breathes, “d’you mean any of that? Or was it all just part of your plan?”

Dean smirked, taking off his stetson to run a hand through his messy hair. “Which part?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” you teased, biting your lip in mock-deep thought. “The part about me being the prettiest thing you’ve ever seen? Or the bit about steak dinners?”

Dean chuckled, leaning his head back against the tree trunk, lazily tilting to peek down at you through his lashes, “I told you I wouldn’t lie to you, didn’t I?” He’s doing it again—that smug little smirk—a sweet boyish charm that tempts your nerves in the most unfamiliar way.

You turn away from his gaze, settling your eyes on the bag in your lap and letting your hair fall around your face to cover the blush that’s creeping in. “Mhm,” you hum into the quiet between, “careful now, cowboy. I might just hold you to your word.”

He doesn’t answer, and you pretend there isn’t a slight twist straining your heart for half a beat. Quietly, he places his hat back on. Pressing into the ground, he rises to his feet with a huff. Dean extends a hand, his eyes scanning the distance as you take his offer.

Boots kick up dirt as you walk side by side down the dusty terrain. And for a moment—in the quiet of the desert, with the bag of stolen gold between you, the danger of the heist morphed with the dawn settling in the horizon. A warm toned thing, burning at the edges of your cold exterior, new nerve endings bleeding light between your thoughts of Dean and the feelings he keeps insighting.

Trudging on, the sheriff’s ranch is out of sight. The weight of the gold was growing heavier, hanging from your shoulder. But you’d be damned if you let him carry it, not when it felt like grasping some essence of control.

“So,” you drawl, kicking at a red rock, “you looked like a real professional back there. How long’ve you been sniffing out trouble like this?”

Dean shrugs, burying his hands in his pockets as he considers his words. “Sorta spent my whole life in some type of trouble.” he states plainly, voice quieter as he continues, “Been on my own a couple of years, give or take. Found the type of trouble I like best in all that time.”

You glance up at him, his skin soaking up the orange light peeking over morning clouds. The warmth of the hue makes his eyes impossibly green. Like the cactuses zig zagging your path, sharp and rich in color. “You like it? Being on the road?”

“Yeah,” he sounds unsure, pausing with his lips parted, “Most of the time, I do. It’s… simple.” His hands return, moving with each word, “No strings, no one to answer to.”

You hum back, nodding in agreement. It’s a sentiment you can agree with, the same idea you've convinced yourself of for much longer than just a couple years.

“But,” he sighs, eyes flicking across the landscape, “I miss my brother, Sam.” The name makes a smile creep onto his lips as he mutters, mostly to himself, “m’little Sammy.”

There’s a softness on the name that makes your chest ache, “Why don’t you go see him, then?”

Dean hesitates, jaw tightening, “not that simple.” He let out a low breath, running a hand over his chin. “I don’t even know where I’d start. And if I ever tried to show my face to my old man…” His voice trails off, the words tangling in a wide-eyed huff that says it all in one motion.

You part your lips to reassure him, daring to give the advice of it’s-never-too-late to a soul you know won’t take it. But, before you could he hummed a low, dismissive note.

“Anyways,” he quips, a lazy grin returning to his face, “look at me, turning into a regular chatterbox. This your doin’, pretty girl?” His eyes find yours, but the usual playfulness isn’t as prevalent as it has been all night. In its place is something dark, trying desperately to work its way out.

A look you know better than to pry at.

Leaning over to nudge his shoulder, you offer a small smile. “Maybe I’m just easy to talk to.”

Dean’s grin shifts into something softer, but he doesn't answer. With a deep inhale his chin is up in the air again, eyes looking at anything but you.

A splotch of brown you both assumed to be more rugged desert hills comes into focus—a vacant ranch tucked between scattered fields of jagged trees and cacti. The barn had collapsed, its frame a shadow of what it once was, but the house stood stubbornly, its roof intact and its windows dark against the rising sun.

Dean raised his brows, eyes glancing over, “looks cosy.”

You scoff, giving him a worried look, “if your idea of cozy is ‘haunted ranch on the hill’, sure it is.”

“Better than sleepin’ out in the dirt,” he shoots back, already heading for the porch. He spins on the heel of his boots as he walks backwards, “‘sides, darlin’, if there’s a ghost around I’ll keep you safe.”

With a wink that works a giggle out of you, Dean jogs up the creaky steps and disappears into the run-down house.

The inside is covered in a layer of dust and dirt, but there’s furniture scattered around—a worn couch covered by a sheet sits in an otherwise empty space. A creaky dining table in the kitchen, where you plop the heavy bag of gold, a cloud of grey puffing around it.

“Not too shabby,” Dean coos, coming down a set of weathered stairs. “Just an old mattress on the floor with, uh, minimal stains and a whole lotta dust. Looks like we’ve got options.” He crosses the creaky floor until his boots are inches from yours. A smirk shining down at you, as his voice finds that teasing tone again, “Unless, of course, you’re afraid of ghosts.”

Your eyes roll at his taunts as you cross your arms. “Please. I’m not afraid of anything.”

“Uh, huh,” his brows furrow, lips twisting with contemplation as his eyes dance across the curves of your face.

“Yes, huh. Cross my heart.” You swear with a reassuring nod.

His eyes fall to the couch, and then back to the stairs before they settle back to you. His thoughts written in the smirk on his lips. “Mattress is kinda gross, actually. Couch could fit two—”

You cut him off, throwing your palm up with a humph. “Look, Cowboy, I may look the type but it takes a whole lot more than a game of pool and stealing gold to get me all cozied up on a dusty ‘ol couch in the middle of the desert.”

Dean barks out a laugh, holding his hands up in mock surrender. “Hey, hey—’m not suggesting a thing, little miss.”

You arch your bows with a “mhm,” the faintest hint of a smile tugging at your lips. Dean follows as you walk into the living room, discarding the sheet and plopping onto the cushion with a sigh. The couch dips under Dean’s weight on the opposite end. A quiet set in for a moment, comfortable and as warm as the growing heat of the sunrise.

“Will say, though,” Dean sighs, his thighs sprawling over the soft surface as he relaxes into the creaky furniture, “I’d be a gentleman—”

“Shut up.” you shoot back, unable to hide the laugh that slips between the words.

hmmmmm should they boink in the next part???? hmm hm hmm

tags <3 @the-fandoms-onceler @a1ecmcdowell @titsout4jackles

#dean winchester #dean winchester fanfic #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural #dean winchester au #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x fem!reader #cowboy!dean

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nerevarswritingstuff · 2 days ago

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Trouble Is a Friend - Chapter 35: Penumbra - Wukong/Reader, Macaque/Reader, Macaque/Wukong/Reader, Macaque/Wukong - LEGO Monkie Kid [Archive of Our Own]

There's a time and a place for everything. Too bad the Fates couldn't care less about that.

Chapter 35 of my fic Trouble Is a Friend is now up! Click on the link above to read the most recent chapter!

New reader? Start here!

If you’d like to support me, consider buying me a coffee!

Rating: Mature (for violence and language)

Characters: Reader, Original Characters, Tang (Monkie Kid), Qi Xiaotian | MK, Zhu Bajie | Pigsy (Monkie Kid), Red Son (Monkie Kid), Tieshan Gongzhu | Princess Iron Fan, Demon Bull King (Monkie Kid), Long Xiaojiao | Mei, Sun Wukong | Monkey King, Liu Er Mihou | Six-eared Macaque, Spider Queen (Monkie Kid), Nezha (Monkie Kid), Erlang Shen (Monkie Kid)

Additional Tags: Slow Burn, Canon-Typical Violence, Reader-Insert, Reader is gender neutral, Reader wears suits and dresses because clothing has no gender, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Angst, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Trauma, Polyamory, What love triangle? They have two hands your honor, Emotional Baggage, Magic, Clairvoyance, Not Canon Compliant, I’ve seen canon and have elected to ignore almost all of it, Rated For Violence, I’m not kidding when I say this is a slow burn, We’re turning on the crock pot and letting this cook for the next week, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, //slaps roof of car This fic can fit SO MUCH TRAUMA IN IT, it’s about the hurt… it’s about the comfort AFTER the hurt…

Fic Summary: “Hold on, firecracker. Have you heard this one yet?” You see a gentle sunrise of gold and red as Wukong’s eyes meet yours. His face softened, his other hand touching your arm, his thumb lightly tracing one of the scars. His voice was firm yet soft, grounding yet light as he spoke, “You’re safe.”

…

Oh.

He keeps going, “You’re safe here. You’re safe with Uncle. With MK. With Tang. With all of them. All these years being alone in the dark without a candle to light your way? I can see in the dark, and MK can too now! I’m sure Uncle’s got a match somewhere and all you gotta do is provide the candle.”

He scoots closer, taking both your hands now and keeping your gaze. “You. Are. Safe. Even if shit hits the fan, you will not be alone to pick up all these broken pieces anymore. I’m here. We all are.”

○○○

After years of running from your past and hiding your scars, you find relief in several wandering destinies that are intertwined with your own. And in return, you help two particularly stubborn stone monkeys find their own healing.

#my writing #lego monkie kid #lmk fanfiction #lmk x reader #x reader #sun wukong lmk #macaque lmk #sun wukong x reader #macaque x reader #sun wukong x macaque x reader #sun wukong x macaque #what love triangle? they have two hands your honor #IT'S HEEEEERE #LET'S GO LET'S GO LET'S GO #MERRY CHRISTMAS FUCKERS

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cz19y · 1 day ago

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COOKIE ! [One Shot]

ITOSHI RIN × GN!Reader

THEME: Rin mad at your irresponsible care of your health.

Warnings — Fluff(ew), Reader likes to bake/cook, small argument(no against tho), reader has an attitude, living together, PLATONIC or ROMANTIC, friends/couple still learning, OOC Rin, curses[ofc].

NOTE: This writing is too cringe to my own good, stop reading while you can,, anyways, Happy late Christmas y'all. I'm trying to come back to (my rusty)writing and this dead ahh fandom(blue lock).

NOTE: Tired of reader having those bubbly personalities when they have a hobby in cooking/baking; so I made them have a little of an attitude hah

[ Starting . . . ]

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

It wasn't news to Itoshi that you obviously liked to cook and bake — to do something in the kitchen — in general.

Special occasion with special food? You got it. Special sweets just for fun? You already have a whole set of it. Need a hot drink on a winter afternoon? You're making the best hot beverage known to mankind with the simple ingredients that sat on the kitchen shelves.

It wasn't the first time, you didn't understand why he was so angry at you this morning — as you slowly halted your hand middle-way to feeding yourself a fresh out cookie. You blinked, not aware of what’s the big deal of skipping a night of sleep.

“... Want some?” You said, pointing down at the sweet. Turning around to fully face the sourned-mood Itoshi at 7:30 AM on the other side of the isle. “I just decided to bake some cookies, you know? No big deal.” Silence. His frown was more heated than the stove currently.

“Skipping a night just because you didn't feel like sleeping to bake some lukewarm cookies is not a big deal? Are you trying to mess up your sleep schedule again?” His frown only deepened when you rolled your eyes. “Lukewarm your ass, you're gonna enjoy these more than me anyways.” You huffed, filling the silence of the sweet air with your next set of words.

“You used to skip meals before, now if it wasn't for me..” Scoffing, you continued, “Huh, and you have the audacity to scold me when I skip one or two nights! You also spent the whole night out in the field practicing and pushing yourself.”

“...This was in the past. I don't do this anymore—” “—because of me—” “— I changed— “—because of me—” Rin stared at you in a deadpan face, you returned the look. rin made way into your personal space. you stared at him, a twitching eye as he sighted in disappointment, you could preview his next batch of words including the word ‘lukewarm’ and cut him short;

“Shut up, will you.” A cookie being shoved into his mouth made the trick as you had a taste of your own hard work too. Rin begrudgingly complied to eat, your eyes would still not meet his as your hands hovered around to sort the treats into a plate.

“You're being dramatic. Just take care of yourself, or are you too pathetic to do this too?” He leaned on the aisle beside you, annoyed, watching you set up your little stage to have the perfect picture for your series in your socials — which your followers flocked over your cooking skills.. Rin and some of his ‘friends’ included.

Though, making no sign of stopping your classification test for the better good-looking cookies for the picture or giving him a proper answer, you pondered in silence.

You knew of Rin’s soft spot for you, well aware of the privileges this had lent you, compared to the rest of his social group, you were the one of the few people that he would go out of his way to voice his worries. Even if he acted like an ass when doing so, you learned the hard way to be able to have the ability of knowing when he is just concerned.

While you continued, all in Itoshis’ mind was when would you answer. Was he being too much of a nuisance..? you called him out... Too loud maybe. But not only did he just intrude when he just had a treat offered to him, Rin ignored your proud words to make snarky comments. It was almost 8 AM, one thing he learned was that you didn't like to put up with bullshit in the mornings. He lowered his laches, thinking if he crossed something.

A sight made his eyes look at the figure in front of him.

“Alright, alright, I pledge to sleep early tonight. happy?” You gave him a side look, but an honest voice regardless of your small joking tone. Rin made no moves, only glancing at you, before looking away; nevertheless, bathing on his petty victory in his usual quiet tone.

A phone came in sight, ready to add into the collection of your camera roll full of dishes.

“What the-” you stilled, your reaction too slow to immediately react to watching Rin's hand snatch one of the cookies on the plate through the phone screen. “Bastard-” you could only graze his sleeve when he was already out of reach, disappearing to the hall of your shared apartment.

#damn this is so cringe #i should just stop writing all together atp #anyway #have a m!r draft coming up(soon or not)#blue lock #bllk #rin x reader #itoshi rin x reader #blue lock x reader #itoshi rin #rin itoshi #bllk rin #zzzy:fic

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