#wired earbuds on the go/on my phone

[casstelli]

am i treating my earbuds worse or do they just not last as long anymore

[anemoiashifts]

random stuff to script part one ⊹₊⟡⋆

˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ 𐙚 ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖

✦ food & drinks always stays hot / cold / at served temperature.

✦ social media isn’t plagued with ad’s.

✦ any / all perfume lasts the whole day.

✦ netflix & hulu & other streaming services don’t take shows & movies off once they put them on.

✦ shows never get canceled & always finish the way the writers / creators intending it to. (bojack horseman, the owl house, angel the series, firefly, inside job im looking at you)

✦ my chemical romance is still together.

✦ if you have a fame / influencer dr there’s a “core” named after you. similar to something like woungyoungism.

✦ stuff cannot get finger prints on it (windows, phones, laptop screens, mirrors, fridges, etc.)

✦ all floors are heated in the winter.

✦ your wired earbuds & phone chargers don’t ever break.

✦ tv shows go back to having like twenty shorter episodes instead of six.

✦ flowers don’t rot / die.

✦ scalpers for dolls / toys / clothes / limited items don’t exist & everyone is sold at retail price when re-sold online.

˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ 𐙚 ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖

that’s it ! ily ! 💌

[oraclekleins]

hello, can you write Joost Klein x musician!reader where Joost and reader met at a mutual friend's party and they hit it off? And they start to develop feelings after a while of being friends!!!

thank you for the request, anon!

Good Luck, Babe!

Joost Klein/Musician!Reader

Fluff, Crushes, 1983 era Joost :-) + Reader is BFFs with Appie!

In the warm summer air, you embrace the night; sprawling out your fingers to trace the stars. The soft glow of string lights from above illuminate the beer you’re nursing in your hands, a dull chill spreading through your palms. You listen to the sound of your own breath in the silence, aside from the soft hum of fire from the pit in front of you, slow and a little raspy. The door to Apson’s house swings open and then closes. It was nice of Appie to invite you in the first place - you never could thank him enough for trying to involve you in his friend group. Usually, you’d politely decline the invitation, not quite having made it past the step of hyping yourself up in the mirror, promising it’d be a good night.

You remind yourself that this was practice for the stage. How were you supposed to perform if you couldn’t even manage to go to one of your best friend’s parties? Grimacing at the thought, you roll your shoulders, a sigh passing from your lips. Apson was the first one to have given your music a chance, having been sat on your bed as you wrote your lyrics, pushing your journal towards him after each edit. He would hum any sort of tune to catch your words, give you some sort of inspiration. It’s easy to be around him, it just feels right ; which happens to make the fear of making a good impression around his friends much worse.

A hand finds your shoulder, heavy and welcoming. You can smell his cologne before he speaks, saccharine and earthy. “Need to go get another case of beer, you coming with?” Apson grins, already tugging you along.

“Of course, yeah,” you’re starting to reply, nearly tripping down the porch steps, your arm catching another body in its stagger for balance. 

His face is a bit mousey, grin curious and friendly. “Careful!” He teases, trailing after Apson. He glances back to you - like he’s making sure you’re following, a bit hesitant. You’re well aware of who he is, having seen hundreds of pictures of him and Appie together, flicking through their stories in a muted envy. Joost .

Appie releases you from his grip once you’re tugging at the passenger side door, Joost trailing after you. “Long time no see,” he says, sugary and faint, dying out into a giggle. 

You climb into the car. He’s fumbling between buckling his seatbelt and throwing Appie’s collection of mess from the backseat into the trunk. 

“You were at Appie’s birthday party, right?” You reply, fidgeting with your hands, beer long abandoned on the side of Apson’s porch. 

Joost looks towards you. “Yeaahh,” he drags out the ah , dramatically. You can tell that he’s doing it to make you laugh, searching for your smile after. “I remember you. The singer!” The singer. You can't help but wonder how much you told him, 6 shots deep and in desperation to look like a good, talented friend. The label makes you a little sick, but you nod.

“You as well? I think I saw your album on Instagram - it was good, really good,” the fabric of your shirt is sticking to your chest, cotton-stiff and uncomfortable. You turn to roll down the window, the still heat wavering in the backseat. 

“Appie! AC?” You whine a bit, tapping at the driver’s seat.

Apson pauses from sticking his keys into the ignition, glaring at you through the mirror. "Roll down the window! I gotta start the car, man."

You sigh, giving up as your back hits the carseat.

Joost glances over again, fiddling with his phone case. "Really cool you saw my stuff. Now I gotta hear yours, okay?" He offers you an earbud, wire already stuck into his phone.

You feel a little nauseous.

ᯓ★

It hadn't taken long for you and Joost to connect after the party. Embarrassingly enough, when you had gotten his follow request, days passed before you finally accepted it and sent a message. It became a lot easier to speak with him, bonding over being independent artists.

Of course, every glimpse of him on your feed had snuck into your dreams, slipping through them like the moonlight in your window. You're startled awake, chest heaving from the thought of his face. Fingers threading through his blonde strands, tangling them and curling them around your knuckle. The thought feels like praying, knelt at the altar, eager for your next glimpse.

You wondered if he knew.

"You're an up and coming, for serious," he would blurt out after every sneak of music you showed him. The endless praise for your work cycled into daily conversation, asking to see what you were working on- or if he could help with anything.

You couldn't help but wonder how long this dance between you two would go, when every touch became an apology for being too shy. When you could lace your fingers with his, joking about the size of your hands, yet too nervous to nestle your face into the crook of his neck.

You feel homesick when his arm isn't wrapped around your shoulder, peeking over your phone to see what you're doing rather than talking to him. He always knows how to make you look up, smile, giddy just to get a reaction.

When he confesses his 'silly', unripe feelings - it feels like the sky itself had opened up and sang for you.

[pleaktale]

Please please- write a modern reader (spiderperson or not) explaining things like email, memes, and the internet. It is such a fun concept to me that Hobie is clueless on things like ai.

Personally, I see that as an oppurtunity to mess with him.

Anything you want! Drabble, headcannons. Just have fun if this tickles your fancy 🫶

I cackled with this one so much because I thought about all his reactions and that would be PRICELESS. Didn't enter much on the AI thing because we don't fw AI 🙅 Thank you for the request, lovie! Did a bit of both <3

Warnigs: none I guess?

Tags: Hobie x modern!gn!reader, headcanons

Enjoy ٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و

Hobie is a guy of techs, that is set in stone. But what does he know about memes? Spotify? What about watching videos in tiny screens?

He went to your world once. Guy was LOST in all the screened outdoors, cars moving by sustainable energy and without tires, the lack of humans in things such as supermarkets and pharmacies a little worrying to him;

Once you taught him how to open the door to your apartment, he asked you to dismantle that thing;

"What do ya mean this.. opens with your DNA!?" he asked with slumping shoulders, watching as you entered the apartment like it was just a normal occurrence. And it was.

Your laugh quieted down his mind a little. "It reads my irises through the capture, I already added yours also," you show him the screen of your phone, his name written in the 'allowed' list.

"When tha' happened!!?" Hobie scratched his head, watching over as you cackled your way to the couch.

Visiting each other's dimension was a regular thing, so seeing the old ass things in his world was kinda funny to you;

Sharing wired headphones with him was like living your great great grandparents lives, and watching his curious mind of a nerd in tech trying to figure out your bluetooth earbuds was perhaps the funniest thing in the world;

The first time he went in contact with the humor of your century, it was like explaining calculus to a toddler. But he got the hang of it;

Hobie is smart, that you can't deny. But watching him get used to touch screens was... curious, to say the least;

The first time you showed something AI-made to him, Hobie was taken aback just like you thought he would;

"Ya mean this hyper realistic video of the Eifell Tower burning until it's metals were curling 'n shit.. isn't real?" Hobie had squinted eyes at you.

"Basically, yeah," you replied with a sigh, "it's a little more in control now, we have tools to see if it's AI made or not, but I honestly wanted this gone."

"Bet a bunch of wankers had taken their shared advantage of that," Hobie sighed too, shaking his head in clear disagreement.

After that he always send you videos asking if they're real or not (you got him a phone so he could use TikTok, now it's like having your grandpa sending you skibidi toilet videos asking 'what the hell's this');

He absolutely loves the MP3 you gave him, it's such a tiny thing and still has all his songs plus your favorite ones, he likes to go patrolling with them;

You showed him spotify once, he called it a "damn trap of capitalism" for making you pay for songs that weren't even physical (he's not wrong though);

The concept of being formal over email didn't clicked to him;

"Write a letter, then!" Hobie pointed at the screen after reading your email you planned on sending over to Miguel.

"But that takes weeks to get somewhere, Hobie," you raised an eyebrow, looking at him while pressing the 'send' button. "See? Gone and in his email, if he's online he'll see it now."

"Online? Yeah, a'ight, whatever." His hands up in mock surrender got another set of laugh out of you.

I could go on for longer but maybe for a pt. 2 😅 I hope you enjoyed! Until next time <3

© pleaktale

[cyberrose2001]

TFP Optimus with a goth and metalhead reader. Reader is female. Fluff.

TFP Optimus x Fem!Goth/Metalhead!Reader

Heyy so this was pretty cute to write. I had come up with a couple different ideas but I went with something simple and took creative liberty. I hope you enjoy!!

Warnings: None, Fluff, reader is human.

Word Count: 1,259

'There's no escape from the thoughts inside my head,

Dark days has taken the best of me,

I can't go on like this.'

Sliding the volume bar up, you relax into the stained lounge not currently occupied with kids bickering for player one. They can be pestering at best. However, you love them a lot, especially Miko. That little rockstar has wiggled her way under your skin more than you would've liked. You can't count how often she's come to you with a new metal song she wanted to destroy your eardrums with, in a good way, much to the chagrin of the rest of Team Prime.

So when your fellow metalhead friend goes home with a big smile on her face and the second guitar she's broken this week, you take the opportunity to relax with your own music. With added earbuds, of course.

'Can you turn back time,

To change what you have done?

To shape who you become?'

Shutting your eyes, you let the rolling drums and metallic melodies flood your senses, the lyrics soothing you better than any therapist you could throw money at.

'DEATH BY A THOUSAND CUUUUU-'

Tap tap.

"GAHH!"

After nearly giving the base a new emergency exit via a Y/n-shaped hole through the roof, you rip off your earbuds to glare daggers at exactly who tapped you on the shoulder in your mid-maladaptive daydreaming.

A very concerned, slightly mortified Optimus Prime stares at you right back.

You have now exceeded your yearly quota for embarrassment in the span of five seconds.

"Oh! Optimus, sorry I-" You fumble for your phone that went airborne to the other side of the lounge, quickly pausing your music and clearing your throat, "Sorry, is there something I can... do for you?"

Optimus recovers from your sudden outburst and clears his vocalizer, "Nothing to be concerned about," He pauses, "I think... but I couldn't help but overhear music coming from your small device."

"Oh, these?" You show him your earbuds, heavily used and on its last string of wire, "Yeah, that's what they're used for. Personalised music only you can listen to from, called earphones."

"Ah, a device that recognises its user," Optimus says confidently, "Would it still be functional if another were to use it?"

"Uh, no," You hold back a soft chuckle. Optimus may be an eons-old robot, but it seems he still has much to learn about human culture, "I phrased that wrong. It sends music directly into your ears. Not only does it sound better, but it's more... respectful to the people around you."

Optimus seemed to understand that, nodding and leaning in to get a closer look at the magical, elusive earphones, "Hm, I see. How interesting, I am not sure if Cybertron ever had these."

You're unsure if you should explain the crucial 'ear' part, but then again, you also had some things to learn about Cybertronians.

"Maybe," You say, giving him an unsure smile, "Would you... like to try them out? I'm not sure how they will fit because, y'know, ears."

The mech perks up at your offer, seeming interested in something other than having a candle-lit dinner and wine with his datapad.

"If you allow me," Optimus holds out a servo, "I would be grateful for the opportunity."

God, he's so sweet. It's like you asked him to accompany you to a high school dance, except it's not. He wants to try out earphones.

"I am sure they will be fine. My comlink had previously been modified to accommodate external inputs."

You smile sheepishly. That's a good enough answer and one you were hoping for. You move from the lounge to step onto Optimus' outstretched servo, and now you realise that you've never actually been held by Optimus. You know he's big, but suddenly becoming inches close to his faceplates and getting a feel for the mech's true size has your mind spinning.

And this piece of heavy metal that holds you like a delicate flower is about to experience true heavy metal.

Optimus studies you for a moment longer, and his optics finally get a proper, up-close look at your unique style, "You look quite... different from the others. Before proceeding with this 'personalised' experience, may I ask why?"

That shouldn't have made your face flush, but it did. Questionable choice of wording, but he's right. You do have a different style even compared to Miko. Instead of colourful streaks of pink and the brash early two thousand' get-up, you chose to adorn yourself with all-black clothing and absolutely no bold colours in your hair. Even your make-up, black lipstick, and harsh eyeliner that would make a Christian mother weep. Optimus would undoubtedly question why you chose a different way of representing yourself.

"Well, I'm sure it's strange to you," You begin, trying to ignore how high off the ground you are, "But it's another way for humans to express themselves. It's more of an aesthetic of sorts, but a way of life for others. I guess you could compare it to Cybertronians choosing their alt modes."

Optimus nods, absorbing the new knowledge like a sponge. For some reason, that was easier to explain than the earphones.

"Ah, so it is a distinct way to present yourself to others—an identity of sorts. We Cybertronians are quite limited in our own modifications, partly due to the war." The mech reaches his other servo to your hair, toying with the ends to admire the softness, "I do not find that strange at all that you would choose to modify yourself this way. It's rather endearing and unique; I admire that about your species."

"That's..." Your cheeks flush once again as you watch him play with your hair, "Kind of sweet." You give him a soft smile, touching his servo near your head. He makes eye contact with you, and that's when your breath hitches, and you clear your throat, "But it's not just clothes or... or other mods we can use - we can use music too."

Optimus nods his helm in familiarity, "Yes, I have become aware of that. Miko can be quite the musician." You're unsure if he's saying that to be polite or if he genuinely means it.

"Yeah, I've been trying to teach her, I promise." You chuckle softly, as does he. You continue, unconsciously gripping his servo, "But music is the pathway to the soul, at least for me. It can help me think and even untangle my emotions or just let them be and only soothe. It helps me live in the moment. Like a... a therapist, if that makes sense."

The Prime seems to have connected the dots, "That is why you spend most of your time resting on the couch listening to your music?" Optimus realises his impudence towards you earlier when he startled you, "I see. I apologise for interrupting your therapy earlier; that was rather brash of me."

God, no, he is exceeding unprecedented levels of sweetness now. His optics' soft, apologetic look nearly obliterates you, thinking he had legitimately interrupted a therapy session.

"No, no, Optimus," You suppress a laugh, "It's okay, really. It's a figure of speech. It feels like therapy. Sometimes it's better."

Optimus exhales a gentle sigh, "Apologies. You humans have such expressive figures of speech I have yet to catch onto."   

"It's alright. Now, speaking of therapy." You try to hide your ever-growing affection for him and retract your hand, holding up one end of the small earbud, "How about that personalised experience?"

[flowermiist]

A warm heart - I

Click here to read the prologue if you haven’t ♡

Pairing: John Price x Fem!Reader

Sypnosis: Some time ago, you started a cooking channel on YouTube as a way to relax, have a proper hobby and teach others your favorite recipes as you improved your own culinary skills too. Fame wasn't something you wanted, you were more than happy with your 50k subscribers... Yet you never thought you'd stumble upon one of them.

Word count: 4.5k

A/N: I would like to start off by saying thank you for all the kind comments, likes and reblogs the prologue has gotten. I was going to make this chaper longer but wanted to leave some intrigue. I’m currently working on the second chapter as I post this. Again, thank you so so much. Don’t forget to like, reblog and comment please. ♡

“Didn’t know you were that much into cooking, cap.” Garrick says, hiding a smirk and almost teasing as he sits across the captain who simply gives him a small cranky huff and his tired eyes stick back to the screen of his phone with the video playing.

Only one of the wired earbuds is connected to his ear as he watches every single detail almost carefully –

“Improving my cooking skills, somethin’ the lot of you should start doing.”

It was by far clear that John wasn’t in the best of moods after a stressing mission, his voice much hoarser and raspier than usual – the scent of the cheap cigar he had gotten from a gas station fills the tent as Mactavish sleeps with arms crossed, his head hanging low and Simon keeps guard – his eyes moving towards the conversation from time to time.

“Been trying to get the hang of it…” He speaks again with a sigh and an attempt not to be too grumpy, trying to remain as composed as he can while wiping off the sweat from his forehead, the lines on his rough skin becoming accentuated as he slightly frowns.

“And how’s it going?” Gaz asks with more curiosity now, looking at his captain and placing his elbows on the wooden table.

“Good, ’s far as I can tell.” Is all John responds, crossing his arms over his broad chest as he tries to sink deeper into the folding wooden chair tapping his cigar against the makeshift ashtray (which was simply an empty can of tuna) as the already weak string of smoke dies away.

You quickly scramble out of the bathroom, uniform already displayed on your bed. Stopping in right front of your vanity and placing a hand against the wall as you lean closer to the mirror to get a better look, trying to be as careful as possible not to mess up your lipstick – the moment you can’t find your shoes, you just get more irritated and the irritation mixing with yesterday’s hangover is not a pretty feeling, especially at this time of day.

You know you no longer have time to find your comfortable shoes the moment you look at the watch on your left wrist so you move towards your closet and take out a pair of nude stiletto heels, not the most convenient or comfortable ones but better than going barefoot to work or using one of your “I’m only here at the club to dance and get laid tonight.” pumps.

The moment you step into your car and try to start the engine, it makes that funny noise you hate but know too well to ignore.

“C’mon… let’s not embarrass ourselves, will you stop acting up before a neighbor notices and calls me broke?” You mumble to your own car like a crazy woman as the engine struggles to start.

Three days, three whole damned days since the engine of your car has been struggling to start and has started getting on your nerves – you tried to contact Harrison, your mechanic and the asshole has been completely ignoring your calls, he not only overpriced every little thing he did to your car but also thought you were some sort of stupid woman who didn’t know anything about your own car.

Sure, you could just drive to his garage and tell him the problem right away, but you were loaded with work these days and this man’s policy was to book in through a phone call to get your call fixed – otherwise, he refused to fix anything. And knowing him, there was no way he’d pick up any of your calls anytime soon.

A sigh of relief escapes your lips the moment your car decides to cooperate and the engine starts. “Good girl...” You whisper through your teeth with a smile, moving your finger towards the screen of the radio to start it.

“Well damn! Doesn’t someone look sexy as hell this morning?” Zaila says as she looks at you up and down from her desk – obviously noticing the shoes you chose this morning, you smile at her as you walk towards the reception.

“Well, to your information, I was actually thinking about bringing the leopard print ones you love so much…” You speak with a playful tone while you put your purse on top of her counter.

You give her a sly smirk, checking in with the fingerprint scan she places in front of you.

“I know I’m late… I’m hungover and my car is acting up again and that asshole won’t-” before you can even finish, Zaila moves her hand up to stop you, her various bracelets jingle on her wrist when she does this, stopping you from opening your mouth to explain any further.

You sigh as you already know what she’s about to say.

“Don’t think about it, alright? I was late too – stayed up fighting with that annoying witch living next door. Barely got any rest.”

Zaila says and you smile.

“Somethin’ to laugh about?” She asks, raising an eyebrow and giving you her best warning look.

“No ma’am.” You say with a thankful smile, getting a hold of your purse again before lightly squeezing Zaila’s soft hand and walking away towards your consulting room.

You check your phone while the computer on the desk turns on, you check your channel and smile to yourself while reading some of the comments from your lasagna recipe.

You definitely worked hard for that video and your subscribers seemed to really like it – you were aware that the ages of your views were something quite varied. From teenagers learning how to cook for themselves to middle aged adults improving in the kitchen.

Looking back at the computer in front of you, you put your phone down and begin organizing and checking some files from your patients.

Coming here with Zaila for lunch break was a good idea as always. Both of you laugh, gossip and enjoy lunch break while you sit at the small fancy restaurant that’s right across the street from the clinic.

Zaila went to the bathroom as the two of you waited for the food you ordered to arrive, leaving you alone at the table. You looked through your purse to grab your small mirror when your phone started buzzing from the call you were now receiving.

You grab it and look at the screen, reading the name of the contact, “Harrison - Mechanic.” – you huff and roll your eyes as you answer the call from the asshole that had been ignoring you for the past three days.

“Am I speaking to my favorite client?” The mechanic says, his tone sounding almost cheerful, you’ve known this man for some time now and you know him well enough to know he’s probably drunk.

“So you ignore your favorite client’s calls for three days straight now?” You reply to him. It sounds too rude, you know that but this man is an asshole too and him ignoring you was three times worse than your words.

“Oh c’mon… I’ve just been… uh…” – you wait in silence and look at your nails, already wondering what excuse he’s going to give you.

“–that doesn’t matter now since I’m talking to you, aye? What seems to be the problem with your lady?”

“What makes you think I’ll go back to your garage?” You speak, almost irritated, then catch a glimpse of Zaila from the corner of your eye while she talks to one of the waiters on her way back to the table.

“I’ll give you a discount, how ’bout that, doc? No need to make this call any longer, just, eh, come over and I’ll check on her.” Harrison speaks and you swear you can almost see that annoying smile of his as he speaks.

“You sure you won’t “forget” about your promise when I get there?” You speak, your tone almost sarcastic.

“Would I ever lie to my favorite client?” – Yeah he definitely would, but your car needs a mechanic now and as big of an asshole Harrison can be, you have to admit he’s good at his work when he wants to be.

“Alright, I’ll try to be there after work.” You finally say, ending the call to look at Zaila who is now sitting back on her chair.

John walks through the cereal aisle, gripping the steel handle as the wheels roll. He wasn’t in such a bad mood now that he left base, with the leave he got, he actually felt more relaxed.

The man would not deny he was more used to walking through the halls of a military base than walking through the long aisles of a supermarket – maybe he’d go for a few drinks after this, not wanting to spend his time isolated at home for too long. John clears his throat and rubs forehead and eyes with his fingertips, pinching the bridge of his nose.

He has the essentials in his cart, some milk, vegetables, juice, meat, rice and the three-in-one shampoo he has grown used to.

As John moves his cart towards the register, he glances at two adults and a child – the boy no older than five years and throwing quite the show as he cries and squirms on the floor while he grips a box with children’s toys. He looks at the adults that seem to be his parents, a man and a woman with worried and irritated look on their faces as they try to calm him down.

Was this the reason he never looked forward to starting a family, ugly temper tantrums? No, that would only be another excuse – Maybe the demands of his job? It would be too selfish to leave a woman whom he’d call his wife by herself taking care of a kid while he was in the middle of god-knows-where.

Had he given up the idea of starting a family of his own? Because it surely seemed late for him to try.

Did he want that life? Was he getting tired of going home to an empty house? He didn’t really know if he could call his house a home, it didn’t exactly feel like the concept of a warm family waiting for him, some kids, a wife and a dog – but at least, no children or a wife would be missing him and suffering while waiting for him to get home. To get back home from a job that has his life on the line between life and death, between doing terrible things to accomplish a greater purpose and getting his hands dirtier than ever.

His bubble of thoughts are popped with a sharp pin as the cashier looks at him and speaks, clearing her throat and almost giving him a dirty look for staying so still while glancing at the family – “Sir, you’re next.” The woman speaks as he looks at her.

“Right, sorry.” The rugged man says as he starts moving the things of his cart to the register.

You didn’t drive to Harrison’s right away after work, you stopped at home and took a shower, changing your clothes and then stopping at the grocery store – It was supposed to be a quick trip but you almost throw your bags on the floor of the store’s parking lot as you notice your rear left tire almost entirely flat.

“Fuck…” you mumble as you approach it, your breath hitches and you try to remain as calm as possible, lowering the grocerie bags on the floor, not caring about them getting dirty anymore.

You approach the tire and give it two small kicks to check how soft it was, it would be impossible to drive to your mechanic with a tire like this.

You knew how to change a tire, sure – your father had shown you a long time ago after a nail punctured one of the rear wheels of his truck. But that was too long ago for you to remember step by step and you knew the mechanic would not pick up if you called him to come here and help you. Even if he did, the man would overcharge you as always and you were not about to tolerate that, not after he promised you a discount to fix what was wrong with the engine.

Opening the trunk of your car, you search for a way to lift the liner carpet knowing the tire tools might be underneath it – You grunt as you lift the heavy box and see the spare tire underneath it. Right as you struggle to lift it a voice interrupts you.

“Need any help with that?” You turn around towards the husky unknown voice you just heard just to see a man standing there with his own grocery bags.

The silence is almost palpable as you look at him.

“Changing a tyre by yourself can be hard.” He says again, you huff after hearing his words –

“Are you suggesting I can’t do it by myself?”

you blurt out, immediately biting your tongue as you realize how rude and bitchy that must have sounded, but before you can even correct yourself the man speaks.

“Wasn’t making any suggestions, miss, just trying to lend a helping hand.” The man doesn’t seem phased in the slightest by the tone you used. He speaks with such eloquence and calmness that you are surprised he didn’t get offended and leave right after you spoke.

“Sorry, I- That was really rude of me.” You say, almost blushing from the embarrassment you just put yourself through with your own words, you didn’t mean to take your frustration out on a man offering his help.

“All is forgiven, miss.” He takes one step closer and looks at the trunk of the car where the spare tire is. What you didn’t know is that he recognized you the moment he heard your voice and saw your face, it had to be you – the girl from the cooking videos he has been watching for the last whole month; yet he was not about to comment on it because if for some reason it actually wasn’t you then it would make things too awkward, he thought.

“May I?” You immediately nod and stop staring.

“Yes- But… I wouldn’t want to bother you though.” He shakes his head and lowers his grocerie bags onto the floor.

“Not a bother at all, miss. I was just heading home. Shouldn’t take more than a couple of minutes to change it.” You clear your throat and nod as the man speaks, the embarrassment going away.

“You sure?”

“Quite sure.”

You step aside as he lifts the spare tire with such ease only using one of his arms and using his other hand as he grabs he handle of your car’s toolbox with the other hand.

The man moves to kneel down right in front of the tire and you take a moment to inspect him. By the accent, he is clearly from here. Icy blue eyes and a masculine rugged look, not to the point he’s too intimidating but nearly there. The navy blue t-shirt he wears looks a bit tight on him, he seems older than you by a few years not too many though – you can clearly tell that by the few lines on his forehead and the few grey hairs on his dark brown beard. Last time you saw someone wearing such interesting mutton chops beard with that moustache was during a disney movie.

You try not to stare when the muscles on his arms flex the moment he grips the wheel brace as he loosens the wheel bolts by twisting them.

“You’ve got experience, I reckon.” You say as he carefully aligns the scissor jack under the jacking point of your car, he looks at you and nods with a very small smile.

“Not to brag, miss. Done this many times.” His voice rumbling on his chest, the two of you make some eye contact for a single second and he breaks it by moving the wheel brace to the jack. – “Had any trouble with your car ’fore?” He asks as the tool begins to lift up the car slowly when he twists it.

“I was about to drive to my mechanic’s after he spent three days ignoring my calls, some engine problems.” The man listens to you carefully.

“I believe three day’s enough to know your mechanic might be too irresponsable – Not to intrude with my comments though.” He moves to take out the old tire.

You sigh and nod “He’s an asshole, I know.” Your chuckle makes him sigh and give you a small chuckle of his own as he places the wheel down, shaking his head slowly.

He still can’t believe he’s seeing you in person – Well, that might sound weird but the man has seen too many of your cooking videos to deny it’s you.

“Mind giving me a small class?” You ask, taking a step closer – how ironic, he’s been the one watching your cooking recipes and learning from them and now he’s the one teaching you?

He nods.

“Wanna try?” He suggests and you oblige by grabbing the tool. “This is the lug wrench, right?” You ask and he nods again.

“We call them wheel braces ’ere but yes – It is.” He moves to grab the replacement tire and aligns the holes of the bolt with the lugs and begins to tighten them.

“These are the wheel bolts, you twist ’em with your hands as much as you can ’fore you lower the car with your jack and tighten them again usin’ the brace.” The way he explains it to you almost makes you blush as you are leaning forward and looking at the tire like a child at the aquarium.

You glance at his arms as he lowers the car using the jack again, making that twisting movement that makes the muscles on his arms even bigger, and the veins on his rough hands more noticeable.

The english man tightens the bolts before fully removing the jack from under your car, he lets out a quiet, deep grunt when he gets up again. You help him by grabbing some of the tools as he grabs the old wheel that was apparently pricked by a rusty nail.

“Good as new now, eh?” He says and you realize your mistake after be places the old tire in the trunk of your car. –“I’m so sorry- uh, I didn’t introduce myself. I’m Y/N.” That clicks in John’s head, it really was you and he was almost amused to say the least.

“No need to be sorry. ’m John, John Price.”

You shake his hand, not caring in the slightest about the dust on his hand from manipulating all those tools and both tires – his hand feels rough, calloused as if he’s too used to doing these type of things often, the heavy work.

“Forgive me if this sounds strange but ’m pretty sure I’ve watched your videos a few times. Cooking, right?” John says after your hands separate.

You are immediately surprised, almost in awe and he can tell by the look on your face. You try to keep your jaw as tight as you humanly can – almost as if it would comically fall to the floor is you dared to open it.

“Yeah, that’s… me, yes.” You smile at him widely. “You’ve really watched my videos?” You ask, amused, all your worries go away as his words make your whole week, it’s the first time something like this has happened to you.

“Could say ’m a bit of a fan, actually.” He gives you a smile of his own before he continues talking and looking into your eyes, deeply.

“Wanted to start improving my skills and happened to watch one of your videos, the food I prepared turned out surprisingly well – subscribed ’bout a month ago and… been watching ’em ever since.” That raspy and collected tone of his almost soothes your nerves.

“I’m shocked- I’ve never met any of my subscribers…” You admit with a smile full of excitement.

“Well, ’sppose there’s always a first time, innit?” – there is a comfortable silence after you nod but is broken by John looking back at your car.

“You mentioned there was a problem with the engine, that right?” He raises an eyebrow.

“Mhm, it stops sometimes and it can be tricky to start it.” You speak with a sheepish smile and the man crosses his arms as he stands in front of you.

“Want me to take a look?” Honestly? You’d like to talk to him more but you have to get to Harrison’s befoee he closes and you don’t want to keep John here forever, as happy as you are right now. His grocerie bags are on the floor with yours, completely forgotten and you wouldn’t want him to waste his time.

“Don’t worry, I was on my way to the mechanic anyway. Wouldn’t want to keel you here forever.”

“You sure?” John looks at your car then back at you – you give him a nod and he sighs.

“Well… If the engine’s been playin’ games with ya and stops on your way there. Let me know, I mean-” He scrounches up his face in annoyance when the excuse of giving you his number gets too obvious but the sound of the giggle that escapes your lips makes it go away.

“Could use your number for that.” You say quicker than you expected and he immediately smiles, clicking his tongue and taking out his phone from the pocket of his jeans.

“Right.” John says with that deep husky tone rumbling on his chest and a small smile on his face, almost a shy one.

After getting his number, you glance at his brown boots as he lifts up his bags and gives you a small goodbye nod, you wave your hand at him and smile almost stupidly.

“It was nice meetin’ you, Y/N.” John says and you nod too.

“It was nice meeting you too, John.”

As he makes his way to his own truck, you lift up your long forgotten bags and put them in the backseat of your car before you start the engine and sigh in relief since it didn’t give you any trouble this time.

“Well that was hot…” You mumble with a smile as you reverse the car.

Taglist: @bumblebeesfromvenus @thesevi0lentdelights @zekes-beard (Let me know in the comments if you’d like to be added! ♡)

[sirfrogsworth]

They are absolutely scraping the bottom of the barrel to criticize this guy.

That is a perfectly acceptable setup. The receiver has plenty of power to run 2 speakers. The turntable is fine. The speakers are big, which means they will have decent bass. That will produce sound that 99% of people would go "Oh wow!" after hearing.

Audiophiles spending tens of thousands of dollars to improve their setups *maybe* 10 or 20% are so eager to justify their expense and tear down others who are perfectly happy with a budget setup that destroys most of the speakers people listen to (phones, laptops, TVs, etc.).

I would love for more people to have something like this in their lives because I think people "settle" for crappy sound. They watch movies on their laptops. They listen to music on their earbuds. And they don't realize for a few hundred bucks they could improve the sound considerably with nice speakers or headphones. And having good sound changes your experience more than anything else. Movies have more impact. Music literally vibrates your body. It's amazing and I'm so happy his kids will know what that is like.

I spent 15 years listening to $100 BIC speakers. There are reviews that say they "don't measure well" but I don't care. They were big and powerful and helped me through a lot of tough times. They allowed me to have surround sound on a budget in my basement bedroom. Even my current setup would probably be considered "budget" compared to most audiophile setups. But my subwoofer will vibrate your soul.

Also, it looks like Tim Walz isn't using expensive exotic speaker wire. Which means "good speaker wire" to him is probably "durable and thick enough to handle the power output". Which is absolutely correct.

I bet this jackass got scammed by AudioQuest.

[r0ttenhearts]

won’t you hold my hand again?

distant!xiao x reader

sypnosis: you find xiao at a party after he ghosts you

warnings: angst, no comfort, edibles, mentions of being high, cigarettes, abandonment

“is that xiao?” your breath hitched at the mention of his name, the bright red cup in your hand crinkling. it had been a month since you last talked. every text you sent him being seen, just ignored.

you could still remember his dismissive tone the last time you saw him in his dorm room. the only thing keeping his attention was his phone, not you.

“xiao, why aren’t you listening to me? what’s gotten into you?

“i don’t care about what you have to say. can you go now?”

at the time, the new blonde haired girl being in his contacts wasn’t something you were aware of. only when you saw them both snuggled up together in the library was when you were forced to face the truth, something undeniable but you wished to not see.

now here he was a few feet away from you, same red cup in hand but a distant look in his eyes as he scrolled through his phone.

your friends giggled as they pushed you towards the living room, towards him.

you knew you should have refused their pleas to join them to attend this party. and now you’d have to swallow your regret for the next few hours.

hu tao’s loud cheers from behind xiao snatched your attention to the brown haired-ghost lover as she set a plate of brownies on the table. her wide grin answered the one question you had the second you saw the plate in her hands.

“have an edible xiao, loosen up!” she laughed as she handed xiao one who reluctantly took his split half.

yanfei smiled as she handed you and xinyan a piece. it’s not like you hadn’t taken edibles before, but you slept off your high for the most part. this time you’d be wide awake and experience everything to it’s fullest.

you noticed a pair of golden eyes on yours, your stomach churning. you’d rather be out of it if you were forced to be around him.

with a queasy smile the brownie popped into your mouth. your friends laying on the floor beside you as you waited for it to hit.

an hour passed before you were laughing loudly with your friends. the bright lights seemed brighter than before and your skin prickled with every playful touch from your friends.

“sooo, (y/n). what happened with xiao? you guys were all buddy-buddy. now you don’t even look at him! spill!” hu tao’s chipper attitude was still prevalent even while high.

you shake your head, waving your hand dismissively. “dunno, guess he got with someone else.” you answered.

“that blondie, huh? she keeps coming over.” hu tao twirled her hair around a finger, letting a strand fall. “i always liked you better, (y/n).” she giggled.

“thanks.” you whispered quietly. at the mention of the teal haired boys name your eyes wandered to his sitting form. he was still slouched over on the sofa, the same position he was in earlier. the only difference were the wired earbuds in his ears. the sounds only heard by him.

a part of you wished to take the other earbud and pop it into your ear, enjoying this moment with him. but you knew even if you found the courage to take it, he’d only be wishing you were someone else. the thought made your stomach churn.

if only you had listened to yourself you wouldn’t have found yourself in this position.

you were seated on the balcony with xiao, a few hours had passed since you both took your brownies. the night had been a blur to you both, but you both knew the burning question in each others minds.

what happened? why the sudden distance?

“so, how’s your relationship been? you bored yet?” your bold question caught xiao off guard, his eyes widening before a scoff escaped his mouth. you couldn’t hide your disdain for him even now.

“i’m satisfied with my relationship, (y/n). why do you think i haven’t called you?”

ouch.

“a heads up would’ve been nice.” you mumbled. xiao wouldn’t meet your gaze as you kept it locked on the dark sky above. he heard your sigh as you shifted to face him. “why didn’t you say anything?”

“how could i? i knew how you would react.” you shook your head at his response. “you knew how i’d react because this has happened so many times. you knew it was fucked up xiao. so why? why did you make me all of those promises?”

xiao winced at your questions. the shared past you had with xiao was never pretty, never something to recall fondly. it was a messy, hurtful relationship. his calls would only come when he was alone, stopping once another girl would worm their way into his life.

but this last time had been.. different. you were both in university now. before the last time you two had spoken you had hurled insult after insult, wishing to never see him again.

he had complied with your wishes for six months. that was until you found him sobbing alone in the library. you tried to ignore it, ignore him, but his soft calls of your name brought him back into your life.

it wasn’t like him, not at all. but with interlinked pinkies he promised a future where he wouldn’t go away. he promised to stay in your life even if he found a new lover, the way he did throughout your younger years before relationships were consuming.

“i meant it at the time, i just don’t anymore.” he said coldly.

“you never changed.” you spat before standing up from your slouched position. the lit cigarette between his fingers only irked you more. a detail you hadn’t noticed in your current state.

“you’re still such a shitty person, you know that xiao?”

“i’m not a shitty person. i only am to you.” the lit cigarette burned bright as he brought it to his lips. the indifferent expression on his face only furthered the growing pit in your stomach as he blew the smoke out. “it’s strange, isn’t it (y/n)? you’re the only one who sees me that way. it’s not my fault i fell in love, i never planned this.”

“you promised—“

“you were promised by a different version of myself. now, if you’ll excuse me, i don’t want you to ruin my high.”

with a quiet click of the balcony door closing you were left alone. the fairy lights felt blinding as your senses were overwhelmed. nothing had changed between you both. the rift that slowly opened in the space of a month was now a chasm. the dark space between you was now impossible to mend.

or perhaps it was never meant to come together again, and it was meant to stay apart the way it was before he made you that promise.

“i shouldn’t have thought twice about you, xiao.”

taglist: @sakiimeo @astrolomona @dearsumire @saeism @jaderose18 @lelemnh @linkookie197 @xiaonscaraswife @foxlover1144 @reblog-crazily @gh0sts0up @whorerificstuff @samarill

a/n: super late 1k followers celebration fic @_@ sorry for the wait everyone! i appreciate all the comments, likes, and reblogs you guys do on my fics <3 thank you for supporting me. 🤍

[mysticgalsworld]

swept away

a/n: hey babes !! as it’s my first fic EVER, i would love to hear what you guys think :) if you think more can be added, i am open to making this a multiple part fic !! *please remember that i don’t accept hate and you will be blocked— positivity only on this blog 💕*

pairing: hugh jackman x cleaning lady f! reader

summary: after getting a job at a cleaning company as a maid, you’re surprised to find out that the house you’re cleaning for belongs to the Hugh Jackman..

content warnings: fluff, angst, f! reader, talk of chemicals, accusations, power imbalance (but isn’t really recognized), not spellchecked

The house is big. With open arches and an unwavering space, it seems clean. The white arches open up to the wide kitchen, lightened by the streams of sunlight.

The kitchen is filled with windows opening up to show the beautiful nature from the outside. Putting your worn-out wired earbuds into your ears, you blast Fiona Apple in the process.

Placing your worn out cleaning supplies next to the wide island in the middle of the open kitchen, you start over at the sink. A beautiful stainless steel sink with a window above it overlooking the small garden entrances you.

Leaning over the sink, you adjust your work shirt, making sure to pull it over the exposed skin of your lower stomach before scrubbing the dirty dishes.

Scrubbing each dish becomes a great routine and an excuse to dive deeper into your thoughts. This has been your routine since the person, who may or may not be famous, hired your cleaning company. Your cleaning company sent you here, giving you a temporary key and ordering you to “be silent, thorough, and unnoticeable.”

Sometimes you wondered who lived in this house. It sure was nice, but not a huge mansion like you assumed big-time celebrities would live in. Maybe it’s a woman with a really great job? Or a famous actor? Screenwriter? Producer? Maybe even a director? But you stop yourself, reprimanding yourself.

Unnoticeable. That’s what you were supposed to be. You were here to do a job, not think about the personal lives of the people that live here. They probably didn’t even care. If they could think of you as a nonliving entity who’s only purpose in life is to clean their house, why give them space in your mind to occupy.

Sighing, you try to focus on the dishes. But your mind keeps going back to who may live here. You try to not look at the pictures on the walls, personal knickknacks, or anything that gives you an idea of who he is because it’s easier. It’s easier to work in the dark. To be an entity that isn’t cared about, who doesn’t care.

Bringing yourself back to the present, you hum along softly to Fiona Apple’s “On the Bound” playing in your ears as you scrub a dirty dish. The music seems to cut instantly and you look down at your old phone in confusion.

Seeing that the old wire of the headphones is almost completely worn in half, you dry your hands on a rag from your cleaning supplies and unplug it. The music starts to play softly in the background as you go back to your scrubbing.

Your hips start to move slowly, moving to the grungy, moody sound of Fiona Apple as you focus completely on the task at hand. However, you don’t hear the soft rumble of footsteps behind you moving towards the fridge. You continue to scrub the dirty dishes, moving your hips slightly to the beat and humming under your breath.

Having finished his morning gym routine, Hugh goes to the kitchen to grab a protein shake from the fridge. Focused on the goal at hand, he almost doesn’t notice the young woman cleaning his dishes at the sink.

He notices the petite cleaning lady humming to herself as she completes her job, oblivious to his presence. He stands with the fridge half-open, a few feet away from her, enjoying the view of the young woman moving with her task, the sunlight streaming through the window dancing on her bare skin.

Hugh doesn’t really know the exact song playing, but the grungy beat plays softly as the water runs in the sink. He can’t help but appreciate the woman’s dedication to the job, and wants to say something. Or introduce himself.

He clears his throat softly to get your attention. You don’t hear it, too focused on your task and the beat of the music. Keeping your head down, you occasionally look up at the window in front of the sink. Your hips continue to sway softly to the rock beat.

Hugh tries clearing his throat again, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips, finding your obliviousness a little endearing.

He takes a sip of his shake as she doesn’t respond and finally speaks. “You really enjoying that dishwashing, huh?” he asks, his voice deep with professional kindness and laced with amusement.

At the deep voice behind you, your hips still from their slight movement. Wiping your soapy hands on a small dish towel beside you, you turn towards him, Fiona Apple still playing in the background. Your eyes meet the person behind you, your brows furrowing in shock.

Hugh Jackman stands behind you in sweaty workout clothes, holding a protein shake. Hugh Jackman. THE Hugh Jackman. The same man who has famously been in the X-Men movies and your favorite musical The Greatest Showman.

Your brows furrow slightly in shock as your face flushes slightly. Your mouth curves into a tight, professional smile as you mask your complete shock.

“I mean, it at least makes my job more enjoyable.”

He hums in response and leans against the counter, a kind smile overtaking his face as he takes in the professional smile and quick recognition in your eyes.

“Fiona Apple, right?” he replies, the timbre of his strong Australian accent ringing in the open kitchen. “Seems like you were enjoying your job quite a bit.”

His eyes drift to the logo on your work shirt in recognition, watching as you fidget with the dish towel in your hands.

You nod awkwardly, not comfortable with being in front of a gorgeous man in your dirty work shirt, which is now covered with water. “Is there anything I can do for you?”

Hugh notices the shift in your demeanor, a small smile playing on his lips as he eyes your water-soaked work shirt and casual hair.

“Just making sure you are from Pristine Cleaning Co. ,” he replies, his eyes drifting down to the faded logo over your heart. “You seemed very immersed in your music... and in your cleaning.”

I chuckle politely, moving to move my cleaning products away from where he is standing. I shake my head and smile, “Well, I can assure you they did send me. And they don’t really want me to be speaking to you.”

Hugh laughs heartily at her comment, finding her attempt at being professional quite endearing. He steps aside as she moves her cleaning products, continuing to watch her with a smile on his face.

“Oh, really?” he replies with a hint of amusement. “And why is that? I'm not allowed to speak to the cleaning lady, hm?”

Your hands pause on the company bucket of cleaning supplies. You know there is no reason for me to pause. You ARE the cleaning lady. But even so, his comment makes you think of your earlier thoughts. You are a cleaning lady, but you are also a person. Not just a person whose only duty is to clean someone’s house. Sometimes it feels that that’s all people think. That you aren’t a person.

You clear your throat before glancing back towards him. “We are told to be—uh ‘silent, thorough, and unnoticeable.’ They send me when you aren’t home so I’m not a bother.”

Hugh's expression softens as he notices the brief flicker of thought in your eyes. He can sense that his comment, meant as a playful tease, has touched a deeper nerve.

He leans casually against the counter again, folding his arms across his chest. “I'd hardly call you a bother,” he says, his voice a shade softer now. “But I understand the need for professionalism.”

His gaze flicks down to your company bucket of cleaning supplies, then back to her eyes. He crosses the island to stand in front of you. He pauses, sticking his hand out to shake your own. “Well, I’m Hugh, it’s nice to meet you...” he waits for your reply.

“Y/N.” your voice rings out softly, your hand jutting out slightly to meet his. His hand is warm and firm in yours, not even mentioning how it also seems to be twice its size.

He repeats your name softly, a professional, but charming smile gracing his face.

You blink up at him, almost starstruck at meeting one of the most nostalgic and famous actors from your childhood. “I—um I have to get started. It was nice to meet you Mr. Jackman, but for the future my company asks that you call them with dates that you have things to do so this mishap doesn’t happen again.”

Hugh watches as you introduce yourself, his grip firm yet gentle on your smaller hand. He can feel the softness and warmth of your skin, and the way his hand nearly envelops yours.

A slight shiver runs through him as he listens to your voice pronouncing his last name, your words laced with a mix of professionalism and charm.

Nodding in agreement, he releases your hand reluctantly. “Of course, Y/N.”

He takes a moment to step from her and grab his protein shake again, then adds with a small smile, “It was a pleasant 'mishap' though.”

You nod and softly before bending down to pick up your cleaning supplies. Grabbing a company business card, you walk over to Hugh.

“Well, here’s the company card for you to call. I’ll be upstairs and outta your way until you’re finished.” without waiting for a response, you give him a small smile before grabbing your supplies and moving towards the stairs.

Hugh's eyes follow you as you bend down to gather your supplies. He takes the card gingerly, running his thumb over the embossed logo on the front.

“Thanks,” he murmurs. “And Y/N?” You turn to look at him once more. He looks up, his eyes locking on yours. “You're not in my way. Actually, I appreciate the help.”

Biting back a small smile, you continue up the stairs.

The next time you’re at the open, white house it’s different. The house seems quiet at first and you start with your familiar routine. First the kitchen, then the upstairs, lastly working your way down.

Cleaning the kitchen goes smoothly, but the upstairs seems different. Warmer, more homely than usual, you’re not exactly sure.

His bedroom is big. Filled with open space, white arches, and lots of windows, the space is comforting and inviting. You work thoroughly, once again playing grunge rock from your worn out iPhone.

Starting to vacuum around the room, a brightly colored sticky note next to the light switch catches your attention. It standing out against the pristine white walls is what tempts you to take it. You pick it up, the message reading:

“I’m sorry if things seem a bit disorganized today. I’m prepping for an early morning meeting tomorrow, so the room’s not at its best. I appreciate you. -H”

At this little note, your heart warms. It’s not only written in his notorious chicken scratch, but little doodles are handdrawn around it, adding character. You reread the “I appreciate you” line over and over, a mix of appreciation and apprehension filling you.

The company has told you to by unnoticeable. To be silent. To be a ghost, but your fear for the consequences of not listening pushes you back to reality. Shaking your head, you place the sticky note back on the wall before continuing your job.

The next weeks are the same. Whether you’re cleaning the kitchen, the bathrooms, or even the living room.

Sweet sticky notes continue to pop up everywhere, a slew of messages ranging from “Thank you for working your magic” to “Love the new organized bookshelf! Any book recommendations?” to even “Thank you for treating my home with care.” And that’s not even including the array of hand drawn smiley faces, doodles, and drawings.

After you didn’t respond to the first one, you figured he would quit it. But secretly your heart would swell with every positive message, every indication that he understood that you weren’t just a body whose only duty is to clean people’s homes.

The thought that Hugh was thinking of you as an actual person with feelings and thoughts filled you with happiness. The consequences of talking to him still lingered over your head, but maybe it could be different.

Today’s note was next to the oven. When you came to the kitchen, you were surprised to see the oven dirtier than usual. You spot the colored paper taunting you from the corner of your eye and pick it up. It reads:

“Tried to bake yesterday. Never again. I’m so sorry for the mess. You’re the only one keeping me in check.”

Your cheeks flush with warmth as you think of him. Only having one conversation with this man, you wonder how you could possibly keep him in check.

This time, you decide. This time you will answer him. Grabbing a pen from your purse, which was sitting next to your cleaning supplies, you try to think of a message.

Your heart thumps in anticipation as you write underneath his chicken scrawl. “Don’t worry, baking is hard. You just have to have a good teacher.” The only thing you think of for the next few hours as you clean is the note.

You think of how he will respond, if he responds. Before you are able to doubt yourself, you raise the volume of the music on your phone and pour yourself into the job.

When you step into the house the next week, the energy is strange. The sun doesn’t seem to shine so brightly and the house doesn’t seem as open as it once did.

Walking inside, you can hear the shuffling of footsteps and the chatter of a voice in the kitchen. Deciding to obey your company’s instructions (and maybe having a little left over embarrassment from replying to the note) you make your way upstairs.

You clean the bathrooms first, scrubbing harshly as you scold yourself. He was being so nice and you weren’t even trying! You raise the volume for the music on your phone and take your frustrations out on the tile.

Moving to clean his bedroom, you keep your steps quiet and light. Even though you do want to have another conversation with him, you don’t want to disturb whatever he’s doing.

You close his door softly behind you as you start. You change the sheets first, then wipe down all the surfaces, and finally you vacuum the floor. You accidentally knock the vacuum on the bedside table, the knickknacks and papers falling softly around it.

Cursing to yourself, you pick up the dropped items. Your back is killing you and the only motivation right now is the chance of seeing him downstairs (and the money you earn from your job).

You finish up cleaning his room the grab your supplies and head to the stairs. As you walk down them, he walks up them. His broad shoulders almost take up the whole length as you both try to walk your separate ways.

Spotting the phone he has clutched to his ear, you only manage to give him a slight nod and shy “Hello” before you are at the bottom of the stairs. Placing your supplies in the living room, you stand and roll your shoulders.

You hear the bedroom door upstairs close somewhat harshly as you finish vacuuming the rug. You hear the clattering of things, the door opening, and a rush down the stairs as you continue to clean. He seems in a rush as he walks to the kitchen. He also spends less than a minute in the kitchen before rushing back upstairs.

Furrowing your brows, you think of what was wrong. But you quickly shake your head, trying not to get your mind involved in his personal life. Especially because he’s a celebrity. THE Hugh Jackman. He wouldn’t appreciate the cleaning lady being nosy.

You move to the kitchen after you finish the living room. The first thing that catches your eye is the hurriedly placed post-it note. Your eyebrows furrow in confusion as you pick it up. The note reads:

“Once you are finished in here, come upstairs. Please..”

A mixture of confusion and curiosity wash over you as you read the hastily written note, the words 'please' and 'come upstairs' echoing in your mind. You finish cleaning the kitchen, washing the dishes and cleaning the counters while you mind wonders about what could be waiting for you upstairs.

With a small sense of trepidation, you make your way upstairs, the stairs feeling extra creaky. The hallway feeling extra closed in. When you walk to his bedroom, his door is closed. Not knowing what to do, you knock softly and wait for a response.

He opens the door swiftly, his face relaxing when he sees you. He motions you inside and says, “Hey, come on in..”

Giving a small smile, you glance up to him with a question in your eyes. “Thank you….“ You stand there waiting for him to tell you something. Almost feeling like a kid getting called to the principal’s office, you stand there shifting your weight.

“Well—uh I didn’t want this to be awkward, but I’m missing my watch.. Have you seen it?” he continues neutrally.

Your brows furrow as you think back to cleaning this room. Did you see a watch? You don’t remember a watch.. Shaking your head, you look up to him wearily. “No Mr. Jackman, I haven’t seen your watch.”

He puts his hand up and shakes his head slightly. “Hugh, please.. But, are you sure you haven’t seen it? It’s a brown leather watch.” He continues to prod, the conversation getting more and more uncomfortable.

“No, I swear I haven’t seen it sir. Are you sure it was in this room?” You look around, praying that he maybe missed it and it was sitting on the dresser. It wasn’t.

He continues, “Yes, I’m sure. I take it off before all of my workouts because it’s important to me. It was on my dresser before you came to clean, and now it’s gone. Are you sure you haven’t moved it? Maybe you put it somewhere by mistake?”

Continuing to shake your head, you glance up at him. His face is flushed at the confrontation and his worry for the seems evident. You can’t believe this is happening. “No, I didn’t touch your watch sir. I leave your things where I find them, I would never do that.”

His frustration becomes increasingly evident at your comment. He places a hand on his face and shakes his head while thinking. “This watch is important to me. I’ve looked everywhere and it’s nowhere to be found. I don’t mean to accuse, but you were the only person who’s been in this room this morning.”

Your breath starts to quicken, the worst thing that could happen finally did. He was basically insinuating you’re a thief. “I didn’t steal it, I swear.” Tears well in your eyes, but you won’t let them fall. Especially not for a man.

He shakes his head and starts to pace, running a hand through his hair. He is clearly torn between anger and trying to remain fair. “I don’t want to accuse you, but what am I suppose to think? It’s gone and I can’t just ignore that.”

Instead of responding, you walk around the room looking for it. You pull back the bedcovers, open drawers, and look on the floor as he watches you. After a moment he joins you, and you search and search and search for the missing watch.

What seems like an eternity later, you check underneath the bedside table. Nudged between the wall and the table is where the watch sits. With a huff, you stand up and face him. He looks at you, his face filled with relief and regret. He goes to speak, but your firm voice cuts him off.

“Here. You can contact the company directly for them to send over another girl.” You hand him the watch before grabbing your things and leaving.

Once you are out of the house, the tears finally fall. Slowly and barely, you let them leave as you drive back to your company’s building. After all the kindness he gave you, after all the sweet notes and hints at something more friendly. He was just like the rest of them. He was just like the people who don’t view you as human. He was another that just thought of you as the cleaning lady…

a/n: please let me know what you think !! i’m open to doing a pt 2 but please lmk if YOU guys want that… but thanks a lot for the support 😋

[afyrian]

ch. 6 - don’t worry, it’ll be perfect m.list

    you finish weighing the last block of clay for your last class of the day. slowly, you push it against the table, trying to loosen it up some. a pair of earbuds rest in your ears, like the movies by laufey replaying for the fifth time that day. you hum along to the lyrics, the slight vibration playing along your lips. 

  swaying slightly to the song, you toss it back onto the wooden block, trying once more to knead it into submission. especially if you have students who have never touched a pottery wheel in their life. their foreign attitude towards the craft only enhancing if you were to have them wedge their own clay. 

  you bite your lip, grab the little ball of clay and feel it in your hand. it's soft, malleable, the air pockets finally pushed out. setting it next to the other ones, you take a line of saran wrap and lay it over them, trapping the moisture. resting your hands on your hips, you lean into the song, playing once more. closing your eyes, you take in a deep breath.

  turning towards the front wall, you open your eyes to check the time. accept all you see is osamu standing in your door frame, hands awkwardly stuffed into his pockets. you slowly reach up and pull the earbuds from your ears, grasping at a spot on the chord that has dried streaks of clay on it. "hi," you stare at him.

  you hadn't seen him since he burned your dinner. sure you've seen him around, a little hello when getting deliveries, or as you walk to your car. but you haven't actually seen him. let alone with a casual shirt on with a pair of jeans. however, his onigiri miya hat still rests carefully on his head, the streaks of grey being overtaken by his natural black.

  "hey," he smiles, wider than he likely meant to. 

  there was something about the way you stood in front of him. how a ray of evening sunlight trickles through the window, landing on the clay and underglaze that coats your apron. he stands there, staring right back at you like you're more beautiful now than ever before. 

  "hi," you say once more, setting your earbuds and phone down on the table. the air is thick with tension, gaze unable to meet the other's, "uh, so what brings you to the earthen kiln during the dinner rush?"

  osamu takes a step in, letting the door slowly close behind him, hand outstretched so it doesn't slam. pursing his lips, he looks down at his feet, "my brother signed us up for your class.. which let me just say, he's a handful and i apologize in advance. he even paid with my credit card and then didn't say anything until afterwards."

  "but i am still excited, just not for you to meet him yet," osamu shakes his head, looking up at you with his nose crinkled, lip turned up in a snarl. 

  the word 'yet' sends your mind spiraling. you stand there with a frog in your throat thinking of what he meant by it. yet makes you think of the family-meeting era of a blooming relationship. how someone would invite their partner over, eagerly apologizing for their lack of boundaries or respect. 

  it sends a flutter under your skin, a wire in your brain frying. "i think i'll be okay," you finally muster up a sentence, trying to ignore the increasingly hot feeling you have in your face, "plus you guys could've asked, i would've given..."

  your voice trails off as osamu receives a phone call, a rhythmic tone playing. it’s sweet, attuned to his personality. he grabs out his phone, rolling his eyes as he looks at the screen. bringing it up to his ear, he gives you a look of sympathy, like he can already tell what the person’s going to say.

  “hi ‘tsumu, where are you?” osamu starts, trying to keep his posture straight, although a vein is practically popping out of his forehead, “you can’t come? you’re seriously visiting kita and his girlfriend? the one out in the country? so no one else is coming? okay okay, yeah, thanks a lot.”

  turning off his phone, he lets out a sigh, eyebrows furrowing. turning to look at you, he has a sympathetic expression on his face. “i’m so sorry about my brother, but it seems all the spots taken for tonight will not be filled.. because apparently they’re all out by someone’s farm. i mean i’m still here..” 

  you shrug, pursing your lips, “well, you’ve already paid for it, which i apologize for. but today’s been really long and i’d love to go home early. how about next weekend, private lesson? i have nothing going on saturday and so i can give you all the ins and outs of pottery making.”

  “private lesson?”

  “yeah, just as an apology for the pay going on your card,” you lean against your table, crossing your ankles, “plus then i guess i’ll be able to meet your brother later, whenever you’d like.”

  osamu’s breath catches in his throat, unable to bring himself to say something. you stand so confident, despite the seemingly exhausted state you’re in. he feels a little jealous as he feels like his knees are made of jelly and his hands are a water slide. “that’d be nice,” it comes out hoarser than he expected, taking a step towards you, “maybe i can bring lunch, as my own apology.”

  “lunch would be perfect, how about, until then, you take this,” you walk over to your shelves of pottery, grabbing out a mug that resembles an ice cream cone, “had an extra from a custard place i did some work for. just as a ‘no more apologies’ kind of thing.”

  “well i guess this meal i make will have to be perfect.”

  “don’t worry, if you’re making it, i know it’ll be perfect.”

a/n: osamu’s DOWN BAD and i love him for it <33 might pull a @nectardaddy and just have mbb go on forever AND read ‘88 ford to meet kita’s country gf ;) taglist: @causenessus @osakis-gf @eggyrocks @brkfclub @marisabel14

@bbybibi @etoiile @miyamoratsumuu @girlokarina @gsyche

@cherrypieyourface @zephestia @acowboykisser @whosmarjj @gumiiiiezzzz

@guitarstringed-scars @19calicos @savemebrazilhinata @phoenix-eclipses @theycallmenanamisgirl

[starryeyedjanai]

no better time than now

kinktober prompt: edgeplay | steddie + gareth | explicit

read on ao3

When Gareth sees he has a snapchat video from Steve as he's walking out of his office to go to an all staff meeting, he doesn't think anything of it.

Why would he?

Steve's not the one who routinely sends him lewd or sometimes nude pictures of himself.

That would be Eddie - the menace who somehow conned Gareth into joining his harem of men.

That's a bit dramatic, but he thinks having a minimum of four paramours he's fucking is kind of excessive. But he digresses.

Steve is definitely the tamer one of the two, but that's not to say he isn't into all the same stuff as Eddie. Gareth sometimes joins in on their little romance, fucking himself on Steve's cock while Eddie looks on and tells him how fast to go. Or sometimes Eddie fucks Steve as Steve is sucking Gareth's dick, both of their eyes on him.

So he knows how Steve is separate from Eddie and he knows how they are together.

The point is, Steve sending him a video during the work day is usually some story about something Eddie did, so he doesn't think twice about opening it as he's walking down the hall, earbuds plugged into his phone already from a previous call, but not in his ears, the wires bunched up in his hand.

Gareth's face flushes red so fast his head spins and he immediately turns on his heel and walks directly back to his office, closing the door behind him.

Because he's looking at a video of Steve's mouth wrapped around Eddie's cock, his eyes all hazy with pleasure as he looks at the camera.

He presses a hand down on his cock, as if that'll stop it from getting hard as he watches the series of videos of Steve sucking Eddie off.

The last video ends with Steve pulling off Eddie's cock, a line of spit lingering between his mouth and the tip of Eddie's dick.

Gareth stands there with his back to the door, his hand pressing on his dick, wondering what he did in a past life to deserve this.

In the middle of a work day???????? he puts in the chat, waiting for a response.

His phone pings several times in a row as the next set of videos comes in.

He closes his eyes and debates just leaving his phone here in his office and walking to his meeting. It's what he should do.

He should leave and go to the meeting.

But the temptation is too strong. He opens his eyes and presses the purple square because he has no self control and he's already a little half-hard.

The video starts with the front facing camera on Eddie and he's saying something so Gareth quickly shoves his earbuds in his ears as he turns the volume up, walking over to his chair to sit down.

"Sorry, Gare. Steve has been so impatient this afternoon. We're working on his patience and he needs an audience for all his good work. Jeff and Grant got these too, so at least you're not alone," Eddie says, a twinkle in his eyes.

The sound of sucking in the background makes Gareth's jaw clench.

The camera flips around onto Steve, laying on his stomach on their bed, one hand on Eddie's dick, stroking it gently, as he sucks one of Eddie's balls into his mouth. His eyes are closed and he looks so fucking content slobbering all over Eddie's balls.

The video ends and Gareth feels lightheaded.

He opens up his text thread with Grant and Jeff and texts them if you plan on getting anything productive done today, do not open the snapchat videos from Steve.

From Jeff, he gets the message: too late 😔

Grant says thanks for the heads up. we can all watch it together on my phone later if you want?

Gareth texts them back: I am definitely taking you up on that Freak. And: Jeff, I cannot believe you saw it and let me open it at work.

It JUST happened. I'm also compromised here is Jeff's reply.

He's about to send something back when a slurry of pings and notifications tell him that Eddie's sent them more videos. Because it's obviously not Steve sending these videos. He's going to kill that man one day.

He opens up Slack and messages his boss that he's suddenly not feeling well and has to miss the meeting. The thumbs up on his message he receives is more than enough, so he gets up and locks his door.

He sits back down and opens up the snapchat video and the camera is still on Steve, who's back to sucking Eddie down his throat. With the noises in his ear - the loud slurps, Eddie's soft moans - it feels like he's there, almost. Like he's in the room with them, watching as Steve's gentle mouth on his cock pulls noises from Eddie's throat.

Eddie reaches down with the hand not holding the phone and taps Steve's hand on his hip. Steve pulls his mouth off him with a loud pop.

"What's the lesson here today, sweetheart?" Eddie asks.

Steve lets out a sigh and says, "That I can't always have your come when I want it."

Gareth has to clench his hand, his nails digging into the palm of his hand, so that he doesn't groan out loud at that.

"You're impatient," Eddie's voice says. "It's so much better when you work for it, right honey?"

Steve isn't glaring up at the camera like Gareth would be if Eddie used that condescending tone of voice with him - he's looking up reverently, even though Gareth can tell he's a little frustrated.

He types in the chat How long has it been? because Steve getting frustrated is a sign that it's probably been going on for far longer than Gareth would have the patience for.

The next video, Eddie tells Steve, "Gareth wants to know how long it's been."

Steve looks up and drags his mouth off Eddie's cock. He says, "It's been hours," with a whine.

Eddie laughs behind the camera. "It's been one hour tops."

Has Steve come? he asks them after the video ends.

"No, he hasn't come yet either. He's being so good today," Eddie says, stroking a hand through Steve's hair as he sucks hard on his dick, hollowing his cheeks. "He's just been between my legs, sucking me until I say stop and then biting me when he gets frustrated."

Eddie's voice is so fucking fond as he says that, laughing and petting Steve's hair.

Gareth can see the bite marks. Eddie's thighs are littered in red and purple marks from Steve's mouth on him.

"You wanna show him how nicely you ask for-" Eddie starts to ask and the video cuts off.

Gareth reaches down to adjust his dick in his pants.

The next video starts with Steve saying, "Can I bite you please?" with his mouth hovering above Eddie's thigh.

"Why do you wanna bite me?" Eddie asks.

"Because this is hard!" he says, annoyance seeping into his voice.

"It is hard, baby," Eddie says with a laugh, using his hand to tap tap tap his hard cock against Steve's cheek.

Steve pouts up at the camera.

Jesus fucking christ. They're ridiculous.

But Gareth is sweating, and his dick is straining against his slacks.

He can't jerk off at work.

He can't jerk off at work, right?

Everyone, the entire staff, is at the meeting in the conference room on the first floor, so it wouldn't be the worst thing in the world to whip his cock out here and jerk off to this, would it?

There's the off chance that someone might leave the meeting to go to the bathroom, but would they venture up to the third floor for a bathroom break? He doesn't think so.

He weighs the options in his head as he waits for the next set of videos to come.

The worst scenario is that someone might hear him, but he's really good at being quiet - years of sharing a wall with the living room of his house and then years of sneaking off to the bathroom to jerk off in college with just the door separating him and his roommate has taught him how to be near silent when he comes.

He thinks he could do it.

He could watch and listen to what's probably the end of Eddie and Steve's "lesson" and jerk himself off slowly, like he's a part of it too, like the lesson in patience is for him too.

Fuck, that's probably part of the reason why Eddie sent it to him. He's also too impatient sometimes, and Eddie makes sure to punish him for it.

The next set of videos comes through and he unzips his pants, decision made, and gets his cock out. He grabs the box of tissues on his desk and slides it closer.

Eddie's hand is in Steve's hair as Steve sucks a mark into his thigh, biting and pulling the blood under his skin to the surface. Steve pulls back and presses a kiss to the new mark.

"Good boy. You wanna get on your knees and show your boys how good you are for me, not coming this entire time?"

Steve eagerly nods and pulls himself up between Eddie's legs, tucking his knees under him. His cock is hard and red and dripping.

He strokes it slowly, angling it up so Gareth can see the cock ring around the base of his cock.

Gareth thinks he needs one of those right about now. He strokes his cock as he watches Steve stroking himself, spreading the precome down his cock until his cock is shining with it.

He probably isn't going to last very long despite just starting, between the need that's coursing through his veins and the fact that he's doing this in his fucking office.

Steve shudders as he speeds up a little, the slide slick as he humps up into his hand a little. He fists his cock for another few moments before pulling his hand away. He's breathing heavily as his cock twitches and more precome drips from the tip.

Gareth's cock twitches in sympathy.

He gets back on his stomach between Eddie's thighs and Eddie says, "Open your mouth sweetheart."

Steve opens his mouth and Eddie's cock thrusts inside. The choking noise as he hits the back of Steve's throat is so loud, but the video cuts off a second later.

This is torture, seeing these little snippets and not having the real thing. He loves watching them together. He never really knew he was into voyeurism until meeting them. He didn't know he was into a lot of things before he met them actually.

And being so far away from them, seeing these videos that end abruptly, having them talking and moaning in his ears- it's not enough. He wishes he was with them right now - between them, watching them, anything.

He sets his phone on his desk and leans forward in his chair so he can see it and so that when he comes, he won't get any of it on his clothes. The chair mat beneath him is much easier to clean than his pants if he accidentally gets any on it.

Eddie's thrusting comes to a stop as Gareth opens the next video a minute later.

"You've been so good. Do you think you deserve it now?" Eddie asks and Steve nods slowly, pulling back to nuzzle into the crease of his hip. "I think so too. Go ahead, sweetheart."

Fuck. Gareth starts stroking himself faster, tightening his fist around the head of his cock on every stroke.

Steve sticks his tongue out and licks a stripe up Eddie's cock before sucking the head into his mouth. He uses his right hand to stroke Eddie's cock fast and tight, licking around the head, tonguing the frenulum.

"Fuck, Stevie," Eddie says, his voice strained. He thrusts up into his grip, and into the warmth of Steve's mouth.

Gareth grips himself tighter, knowing Eddie's going to come soon.

Steve takes his hand off Eddie cock and opens his mouth wider, relaxing his jaw as Eddie thrusts up into his mouth roughly again.

Gareth can hear the way Eddie's cock fucks into Steve's throat. Eddie's guttural moans are loud in his ear as he chases his orgasm in Steve's mouth.

Gareth speeds up his hand in time with Eddie's thrusts, his breathing getting heavier. He almost can't bite back the groan that forms in his throat when the video cuts off. His phone pings almost immediately with more videos, so he doesn't even have to slow his hand down before he's seeing them again.

Eddie continues to use Steve's throat like a fleshlight and Gareth's balls draw up as he watches on.

Eddie moans loudly as he comes, the first spurt probably going directly down Steve's throat. He pulls back and jerks himself through it, his come pulsing out over Steve's tongue, on his lips, on his chin.

Gareth shudders, looking at Steve's face, and he comes hard as Steve's tongue darts out to lap at the head of Eddie's cock, digging into the slit like he wants more. Another glob of come spurts out onto his tongue.

Gareth cups the head of his cock in one hand as he comes, stroking himself through it silently. He pants through it as the video ends, shivers running through him.

He leans forward and puts his head on his desk as he comes down.

He can't believe he just did that.

He picks up his phone and sends them a snapchat of his hand still coated in come, the text across the screen reading I hope you're fucking happy.

He cleans himself up, but still feels so dirty afterwards.

He's lucky he only has another couple hours of work and no more meetings today. There's no way he could sit in front of any of his coworkers and look them in the eye knowing that a wad of tissues coated in his come is sitting in his trash can, buried between random flyers.

He's also lucky his boss thinks he's sick, because that means she's probably not going to be beating down his door after the meeting ends. He opens the window in his office to air it out

He gets a snap back from Eddie a couple minutes later, a picture this time.

It's Steve, on his back, come streaked up his chest, coating his chest hair. He looks so fucking blissed out, his cheeks red as he smiles at the camera. Gareth's heart pangs in his chest. He can't wait to see them later.

There's no text on the screen, but he knows they'll probably make fun of him for jerking off at work later. Or at least Eddie will. He's such a menace.

He opens up his text thread with just Jeff and sends Do you wanna get Steve and Eddie back tomorrow for making us horny at work?

I thought you'd never ask is Jeff's immediate reply.

[liillyliilly]

A Place Where You Can Disappear

sugawara koushi x reader words; 1464 synopsis; she's the ghost at the end of the hallway- sugawara fully believes she is anyway.

Walking down the empty hallway of the main building always set his nerves aflame. Remembering all the ghost stories his own upperclassmen told him as he was trying to get to the gym was not a good way to start off practice. But he put on a brave face and kept walking with his head held high.

For three years, he shuffled along the hallway covering his ears and mumbling a prayer for safety. Asahi said the gods wouldn't let anything bad happen to him with that specific prayer. Asahi proudly claimed that the prayer was the only way he got through second year mathematics.

The first time Sugawara hears music start playing, then immediately being cut off with a slight startled scream, he gets scared.

He did his best to pick up his pace down the hallway. There was trash littered along the floor, and scratches and dents on the doors of the empty, unused classrooms.

I'm only a third year and I'm going to get murdered by a serial killer this early in my life.

He timidly shuffles his feet to the classroom where he heard the ruckus. He peers in through the glass of the door, only to be greeted with a dark room. Except for in the far corner, where a girl sat with a lamp on the desk. She seemed to be writing or drawing something in a notebook while her earbud wires dangled from her ears. She was nodding along to the beat of the music that was probably playing from her phone, which was sat on the table facedown.

Sugawara can't help but smile. She seems perfectly content with just being by herself and messing around. Sugawara hears the gym doors slam open, and he goes to exit the hallway and head to the gym, but not before stealing one last glance at his mystery girl.

This becomes a daily occurrence. Suga walking through the hallway, but stopping to check in on his mystery girl. Sometimes she eats snacks, sometimes she’s reading a book (Suga immediately goes out of his way to locate a copy of the book and read it), sometimes she is making some sort of craft. More often than not, she had headphones on and was staring at her phone screen.

While talking to Hinata one day, he subconsciously takes Hinata down the empty hallway with him. Doing his usual observation of her, Sugawara notices that she is crying, tears falling down her face and the tear mark lines on her skin are prominent from the light from the lamp. Ushering Hinata to the gym, Sugawara knocks on the door.

“May I enter?” He asks, loud enough for her to hear but not loud enough to scare her.

She sniffles before uttering a small yes. Sugawara tries not to trip on anything as he passes through entrance of the dark classroom.

“Are you alright?” When she nods and smiles, Sugawara becomes confused. “But you’re crying?”

“A very thoughtful observation, but if you would have bothered to pay attention, I’m watching a movie.” She pauses the video playing on her phone, taking out her left earbud so she could pay attention to the stranger invading her space.

Sugawara blurts out another question, “Can I watch with you?” He knows he can't stay for long, he had a practice to get to. But a short ten minutes couldn't hurt, he'd just do Daichi's tedious extra warm-ups for being late. She leans back onto her chair and folds her arms.

“What's in it for me.” She pauses before smirking, “Stalker.”

Sugawara blushes furiously. “I wasn’t stalking you! I was just-”

“Watching me for a very long period of time?” She offers, holding her hand out and motioning it into a semi-circle.

“Yes! Wait, no!” Sugawara covers his face with his hands and groans slightly, realizing anything else he would try to say would only end up with him as a blubbering mess. This is not how he wanted this conversation to go. He wanted to be seen as some sort of hero that swooped in just in time, not the creepy pervert stalker of a girl just chilling and minding her own business.

She leans over and drags the chair from the other desk next to her. Shifting her own chair to the side of the desk, effectively setting up a place for Sugawara to sit.

“Are you going to watch the movie with me or not?” She pats the seat of the chair. Sugawara hesitantly sits down next to her and nods slowly.

She closed out of the movie she was watching, and opened a new tab, typing away in English for a movie title. She asked if he was okay with subtitles, he nodded.

“One question, before we begin, why are you always in this empty classroom.”

“Because I’m the ghost that has been assigned to haunt this classroom.” She sticks her earbud into her left ear and hands Suga the right one.

“Really?” Suga whispers and tugs at the hair on the nape of his neck nervously.

“No!”

His ten minute internal clock passed, and he quietly excused himself from the room. She just waved at him, focusing intently on her movie again.

____________________________________

The following week, Sugawara didn't stop by her classroom again, needing to prepare a little more intently for the upcoming matches. He wasn't a starter, but he needed to be there for the same reasons all players are apart of the team, because they made a commitment and loved volleyball.

Tanaka finally gave up trying to get Sugawara's attention, telling Nishinoya that Suga was too far gone to be helped.

"Ghost Girl still haunting you?" Tsukishima mocked.

Sugawara rolled his eyes, tossing Tsukishima a ball to put away.

Instead of going home by ways of his usual path, Sugawara decided to backtrack, passing through the hallway to go to the main entrance of the school.

She wasn't there though. Pursing his lips, he entered the classroom, just to inspect it. Turning on the lights, he almost dropped his water bottle in reaction to his sights.

The classroom had desks, the usual set up, but on the front board was a lengthy list. A To-Watch list, he deduced. Movies ranging from Oldboy by Park Chan-wook, to the animated Anastasia from 1997. There was a beanbag in the opposite corner to where Ghost Girl had been sitting.

He hadn't noticed how the classroom was essentially a movie theater since he had only peeked in, and the lights were off. The banner hanging from the windows stated: Karasuno Movie Club.

The back wall that typically stored cubbies for students to put stuff in was replaced by rows of CDs, a projector, blankets, and several notebooks. Sugawara picked up one of the notebooks, and flipped to the front page. The notebook had just been started, seeing as all the other pages were blank.

Karasuno Movie Club

Members: 1

Advisor: None, special permission from Principal

Funds: ¥3747.12

Goals: Watch the Letterboxd Top 200 before graduation

Acquisition for New Members: That white haired boy who stares at me sometimes (possibly) (probably not though, he didn't seem too impressed with the movie we watched) (i mean who leaves ten minutes into Crazy Rich Asians?)

Sugawara smiled, tucking the book back onto its place on the cubby shelf. He took out three one thousand yen notes from his bag, and a sticky paper. Thinking about what to write was quite possibly the hardest thing he had done today. Ending up on a short statement of how he would love to be considered apart of the club, and that the money was a donation for the club.

Maybe this little movie club could be a place only they share.

_______________________________________

Sugawara was surprised to say the least when his desk had a small envelope on it.

She wrote about how hard it had been to find out his name, but that signing his initials on the note had helped her to find him, and flipping through the yearbooks too. She said that she didn't know if she could trust him to join the club, again mentioning the time he left early from watching a movie with her. But if he would show up on Saturday, maybe she could let it slide.

Saturday came as quickly as it went.

He brought the good popcorn, a variety pack of treats, and a blanket.

She was crouched down, twisting the knobs on the old projector, casting a light on the pulled down screen at the front of the room.

The beanbag was just big enough for two.

The paper taped to the outside of the classroom door was simple: Now Showing - "Ju-On: The Grudge" and "The Perks of Being A Wallflower"

[sande5098]

I was wondering if you could do one where you're Ava Bekkers daughter, and you're around 14, and the episode when there's a shooting at the park you're there and you get shot, so when you get rushed into the hospital they immediately know who you're, unfortunately you're in critical condition and you do flat line but Dr Rhodes gose against code and starts doing chest compressions to save you and you do come back and you call out for your mum and he tells you that they'll get you to her, so when you wake up you're all bandaged up and you see Ava waiting for you to wake up, and she reassures you everything is alright and you scoot over letting her sit beside you in bed before you rest your head on her chest, and she promises to get ice cream and you two joke around before you both fall asleep together, and when Connor comes to check on you both he sees you both cuddled up so he leaves you both alone. Sorry it that's a long request.

Critical Condition

A/N: so sorry this took so long, let’s just say that A-Levels are a bitch and my psychology teacher is very unhelpful. I know that the millennium park shooting does take place on a Saturday but for the minute it’s a Friday

Requested: Yes, By anonymous.

Characters: Reader, Connor Rhodes, Ava Bekker

word count: 1.9K

————

You hadn’t wanted to go to school that day, most of your friends were either sick or away on a school trip and without them there to keep you company, school would practically be hell. Instead, you headed for Millennium Park at least, you could get some food there or even just chill out and attempt to do your schoolwork which had been emailed to you after you phoned in sick for yourself.

Your mum was going to be at work until 6pm so you had plenty of time to relax for a little. Either way you went to the bean statue and sat at one of the empty park benches, it was till early, almost 9 o’clock meaning that there was hardly anyone there since practically all children were at school and the majority of people there with families with young family’s or children with their babysitters.

As you put your bag on the ground and took out your laptop to open up YouTube on a tab and play some music through your wired earbuds you smiled as some young children ran by you with their slightly unstable legs which struggled to keep up with the rest of their bodies. You looked back at your laptop and quickly opened up your emails to see what work teachers had given you, most of it was easy enough: Biology Chemistry, Geography, English, Maths and Computer science. While you had a lot of your harder subjects today, at least you could do the work outside of a stuffy, noisy classroom.

You settled down into your work, occasionally taking a sip of the coffee you brought with you in a flask. Distraction didn’t come easy to you, and raven after the obnoxious school bell went off at the end of each class, your friends still had to shake you out of your school work trance. You were shocked that after you had made it to 11:35 and had almost completed all your school work that your attention was dragged away from your laptop. Looking up you could see a stampede of people running towards you, many carrying toddlers, and then you heard it. The distinct sound of gun shots you felt your eyes widen and your throat constrict with your heart practically in your mouth as you closed your laptop and started to run with the crowd.

You were shocked that after you had made it to 11:35 and had almost completed all your school work, your attention was dragged away from your laptop. Looking up, you could see a stampede of people running towards you, many carrying toddlers, and then you heard it. The distinct sound of gun shots, you felt your eyes widen and your throat constrict with your heart practically in your mouth as you closed your laptop and started to run with the crowd.

You could feel yourself slowing down, stamina was never your strong suit and the crowds where pushing each other out of the way trying to get to safety. It was at that moment that your footing fell from beneath you and you fell face first onto the ground, smacking your head hard, a sickening crack had brought tears to your eyes as you stumbled to get back onto your feet again; forgetting your laptop that had flown across the ground.

​

You started running again, tears clouding your vision and blood in your mouth from your heavily bleeding nose. Gun shots were still flying everywhere, the sound of people screaming and falling behind you and in front of you haunting your thoughts as you begged whatever entity who was out there to spare you today, that you would never skip school again, that you could go home and see your mum today. You were too busy in your own thoughts until you felt blood oozing down your back as you fell for the second time. Not having the strength to scream anymore you just lay there, slowly drifting off into the darkness…

————

The first thing which you remembered was the sirens, all of a sudden it was loud and busy. There were multiple people standing over you in some form of uniform, your eyes wide open and you pulse racing, you could feel it everywhere. Were you… Panicking? As you thought back in your memories, noting was really coming to mind, suddenly there was an agonising sharp pain in your abdomen, crying out in terror and fear, you tried to sit up, only to be unable to. There were shushing sounds all around you, telling you it was all going to be okay. From what little you took in you could see it was red… blood? A shooting. It was all coming back to you now.

You properly looked at the people in front of you, they’re wearing blue and black with white writing, police officers were the most likely, why not paramedics? Was the shooter still there? Your breathing hitched and you could feel yourself starting to panic again. One of them lifted you into their arms and you gripped on tightly to them, trying to speak to him, he stopped, trying to listen to you. Your voice came out ragged and weak, even surprising yourself. "Tell my mum, I’m sorry". He smiled, "You will be able to tell her yourself." He said back… With that you drifted back into a dose, still accompanied by pain, screaming, sirens and beeping.

You recognised the hospital you were being rolled into on the stretcher even from the bleariness of your eyes as they squinted open. 'No no no no no... this was not were you wanted to be.' Although it didn't really matter, your mother would have found you eventually but you knew just how deep a load of shit you would be in for skipping school. As you looked around yourself you could see blood everywhere, the crimson red starting to haunt the insides of your eyelids, even if you didn't think it was there it was.

That was when you looked up at the man overhead of you, you could briefly make out Connor Rhodes, your mother's current off and on partner; although she didn't realise that you knew that. "Don't tell mum please" was all you could whisper out hoarsely before coughing up more blood, a nurse handed you a sick dish which all the blood dripped into. "We'll do what we can, Y/n". You smiled briefly but before you could thank him you felt yourself drifting off into another sleep before you could stop yourself, the shouting for a crash cart didn't even allow you to open your eyes again.

----

"She's coding! Get me a crash cart!" Connor desperately shouted as he immediately lowered the gurney and threw the pillow to one side before starting chest compressions. Even though Ava and he had their spats he couldn't bring himself to obey protocol in that moment. This child was the light of Ava's life and who knows what would happen if she weren't to make it. He had to blink the tears back from his eyes as he was instructed to stand clear of the defibrillator thankfully, it only took one shock to get her back, and before he have time to think he immediately ordered that they take her to surgery to remove the bullet and sort out the internal bleeding before Dr Lanik even had the chance to berate him for breaking the protocol.

"I want my mum," he heard a faint whisper of the words and looked down at the 14 year old who looked like she was about to cry. He smiled as reassuring as he could at he, "She'll be here with you when you wake up but we've got to remove the bullet for you." The young girl nodded before the anatheisa took hold and she closed her eyes yet again... now the real work started.

----

Connor watched as the E.D started to get back to normal well, whatever normal meant several hours later. The place was an absolute mess, blood even managed to find its way onto the ceiling, which he had found it hard to believe. Connor had yet to even find Ava, his colleague was so busy that they had been separated to do their own surgeries. Walking into the break room again, which had mostly been cleaned up he saw Ava. The usual happy blonde woman was collecting her stuff, getting ready to leave after getting changed out of her bloody scrubs. She had an extremely tired look on her face. "Ava?" She turned to look at him, "I'm not in the mood Connor, I want to get some sleep. I'm going home." She replied, attempting to walk out past him. He stepped in front of heralding her forearm. "Ava, Y/N is here. She was involved in the shooting."

Ava stopped and looked up at Connor searching his eyes for any type of deception, "No... No you're lying, where is she?" Connor swallowed the saliva building up in his mouth, "She's in the ICU, room 4" Ava felt her heart constrict as she pulled herself from Connors grip and ran for the stairs up to the ICU. She had never ran the four flights of stairs so quickly, the tears were in her eyes, as they ran down her cheeks and dropped onto the floor causing a slipping hazard if others weren't careful enough.

Reaching that room and looking through that window to see a child wearing her daughters features with tubes sticking out from all over. She carefully entered the room setting down her bags and pulling the chair in the room over to her daughters bedside, picking up the girl's limp, cold hand and holding it in her own. She felt like it had been hours she had been sitting there for when her daughter opened her eyes for the first time. "Y/N/N, Honey, shhhh you're okay. I'm here with you. There's no need to be frightened anymore." Ava softly hushed her, wiping away her daughters unshed tears, glistening in the corners of her eyes.

"Mom? I'm so so sorry, all my friends were going to be away and I didn't want to go to school so I went to the park.. I'm so so sorry." Ava hushed her daughter once again. "It's all right, Honey, we'll talk about it later."

You shuffled yourself over on the bed a little, wincing as you done so, looking over at your mom, she gave you a disapproving look which you chose to ignore as patted the bed for her to join you. Ava pushed herself from the chair and settled beside Y/n on the bed, "Sleep my love, we'll talk later over Ice-cream alright?" You nodded and felt yourself drifting back to sleep surrounded by your mothers love. Ava was not long behind her. It had been a very long day after all.

Connor watched in through the window and smiled softly at the mother and child who he was both deeply fond of. Just another day of work and keeping families together, including the woman who he loved.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Special Interest 2

Warnings: non/dubcon, age gap, creep behaviour, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

Characters: Cole Turner, short!reader

Part of the Bookstore AU

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

You find a seat at the cafe with your vanilla chai latte. You place the paper bag with the wire handles on the table and pull out your phone. You love this cafe, it’s like a little home away from home. A much-needed escape from your parents.

You love your mom and dad but they can be a bit much. You’re barely into your twenties and they’re already talking about big things. Like a husband and grandbabies. Hullo, you’re a young entrepreneur, you’ve got a business to run.

Your mother’s text greets you. She wants to know when you’ll be home. You hate to leave her on read so you send ‘dunno’ and flick away the chat. A few items sold! Score. You put some stuff on clearance and knocked a few bucks off. May as well just get rid of it.

As you reach for your tea, you sense something. Like a shift in the earth. There’s a disturbance in the force. Be calm, Jedi.

You peek up over your phone and meet two sparkling eyes. Oh clam shells, it can’t be. It’s that guy from the bookstore. Again! Charles? You can’t remember, you want to forget as quickly as you can. 

You slide the bag in front of you and slouch down, trying to hide behind it. Too late. He’s coming closer. He looks down at you as you try to ignore him, thumbing through old emails to look busy.

He sits one table away. Nice. Very subtle. Or maybe you’re being paranoid. Either way, this coincidence seems less than serendipitous.

You do your best to form a bubble around yourself. You take out the book you bought and flip through the patterns. Those sunflowers are adorable. You could do one for your mom. Oh, what about little bees to go with the flowers? 

There’s a scuff on the ground but you don’t look over. You lower the book slightly, pretending to read the description of tulip as you peek from the corner of your eye. This guy is the definition of manspreading. You shouldn’t care so much but you can see his boot as he has his knees open like a Madonna music video.

You raise your eyebrows as you argue with yourself. You should just go home. Your mom will be happy to see you. Well, happy to have help with dinner. The biggest reason, you’ll be less annoyed.

You sigh and tuck your phone into your purse. You get up and pull on your jacket,sliding the books back in the bag as you swipe up your latte. You sidle around the table and that man clears his throat. Keep your eyes on the prize; escape.

Even if you’re overthinking it, he’s ruined your day. He tainted the haven of the bookstore then infested the cafe. You sip your drink as you pass by the windows of the cafe, refusing to look inside. You hear the door as you brush by the next facade, a hobby shop with dice and cards. Still, you keep your sights ahead of you.

You reach into your pocket and close your hand around your earbud case. You hear footsteps, some ways back, but near enough to track. He wouldn’t follow you… You think better of putting them in and pull out your phone instead, holding it out before you as you pretend to check a notification.

You swipe your thumb up and drag the camera open. You try to angle it so you can see over your shoulder through the front lens. Whoever it is, you can’t see them without being too obvious. Damn.

You drop your phone and black the screen. You move to the other side of the sidewalk as you come to fourway light. You turn, hands in your pocket, and stare at the light across from you, waiting for it to change. Casually, you take the opportunity to glance to your side. You see a blur disappear into the insurance broker but nothing else.

Maybe you are getting in your head.

🧶

You get a strange request on your Etsy. Several purchases with a message from the buyer. You check as you sit in the kitchen, laptop open as you try to wake up. Your mother grumbles as she cradles her own mug and mulls over the day ahead of her. She works from home too but she doesn’t consider your work a real job.

You lean your chin in your hand and squint. You’re stomach squirms as you make sure you understand the message. You feel a shadow looming above the screen and you look up at your mother as she gives you a goofy face.

“Doing calculus?” She teases as you sit back and rub the tension from your forehead.

“N-no, I just… I got a big order but the customer wants to do a pick-up,” you grab your coffee and take a sip, hoping to find sanity somewhere in the brew.

“A pick-up. Here?”

“Well, no, I don’t think that’s a good idea. I don’t get it, they paid the shipping.”

“Maybe they want the money back.”

“They didn’t mention it but yeah,” you stare at their name.

Most people have their first and last displayed but this one is just Farmer’s Delight. They said they're local but live out in the country so the mail often gets lost. How odd. Sounds like a boomer.

“I mean, you could do a public meetup? Customer is always right.”

“Mom, this isn’t the 90s anymore. The customer is wrong,” you huff. 

“How big is the order?” She wonders, “I mean, your little crafts are so cute but it can’t be that much work.”

“That’s not the issue,” you sniff and take another deep gulp. You go back to their order and teethe your lip. “It’s over three hundred dollars.”

“Holy moly,” your mother gasps, “little crafts my tush!”

“Mom,” you warn her, “I’ll just tell them delivery is the only option.”

Your mother is quiet. She slurps her coffee, bringing your ire to dart at her over the top of your screen. You hate that noise.

“I’ll go with you, honey,” she offers, “how about… you can meet at a Starbucks or something? That’s what they say these days, meet in public.”

“Is that what they say? And who are you trying to meet up with?”

“No one… I’m in this trade and sell group for Royal Doulton figures and the ladies there, I would only meet them with mace in my purse.”

You chortle. Your mom can be silly even when she’s nagging you. You’re just happy it’s not her usual spiel.

“Who knows, hon, this could be your meet-cute,” she spoils your moment of gratitude. You sigh and roll your eyes.

“You don’t even know if it’s a guy.”

“Ugh, okay, crush my dreams,” she pouts, “I’m just saying… sounds like a big spender.”

[lgbtsana]

OFF THE RECORD ; AHN YUJIN ONE-SHOT

you’ve been chatting with an online friend for about 2 years, you knew them as their alias ‘ahnz’, they never posted their face but you knew almost everything about them. but, did you really know what they were saying was true?

it’s been about two years since you turned to online friends instead of real life ones. the ones you made offline were just complete assholes. it was always when you needed your real life friends the most is when you realized how fake they were.

you’d call one of your friends, lim dahye, sobbing uncontrollably, begging for her to distract you from your parents fighting. yet, all you got on response from her, “sorry, who are you again?” while you heard giggles in the background. you had considered her a closest friend, but all you received was humiliation.

the closest friend you made throughout the two years online was ahnz. the only thing you knew about them was they were a year older than you and that they, or well she, was a girl.

you had given her a nickname “hannie” and you were happy to know that she thought the nickname was cute and that she liked it.

the more the two of you talked, the closer you two got. you felt like you could trust her, although, you hadn’t met her in person. she just seemed different, not like the other people you had trusted before.

there was one night that your parents started to fight when you received a text from ahnz, you had nicknamed her in your phone as ‘hannie’ since the app you used, let you.

she had sent you a link to a girl group performance, the thumbnail had a girl with short hair poking her cheek. “she’s so pretty, her makeup looks amazing...” you spoke in awe.

you stood up to grab your wired earbuds, since you couldn’t afford wireless ones, and watched the performance. it was a very useful distraction from the fighting going on.

hannie: y/n, check out this video :o [link]

y/n: omg, they’re amazing performers!!

y/n: wish i was that good lol

hannie: don’t say that! i’m sure you’re amazing at it :(

y/n: i see their group name is ive, how do you pronounce that? like i’ve?

hannie: i hear people pronouncing it ivy or i’ve, i guess it’s a matter of preference? idk though

hannie: which member caught your eye?

y/n: hmm, the one with the short hair with bangs. she had so much charisma and just looked fierce! she’s so pretty~

after you’d sent that message, you realized ahnz went quiet. so, while you waited for a response, you decided to watch some more videos of the group she had sent you.

———

the next day, during class, you received a call from hannie. your teacher, mrs. lee, gave a stern look towards you. “no phone calls during class, miss seo.”

you nodded before answering the call, “sorry, mrs. lee. it’s... an emergency.” your quick answer made her give you a nod, “go out in the hall then, y/n.”

“hannie, what’s going on?” your concerned tone rung in her ears, “y/n, are you able to... meet up...?” she asked, her voice quiet.

“what?”

“are you able to meet up with me?”

the question hung on a string. a string that was about to snap clean in half. you felt your heartbeat increase as you weren’t sure what to answer. sure, you’ve talked to her for two years, but you’ve only thought about meeting up once.

you weren’t sure if you were ready to meet her.

“y/n?” her voice entered your senses again, making you gasp softly.

“ah, sorry-” you barely let out a whisper as you apologize quietly. “y/n, if you’re able to meet up, please come to 4-5, samseong-ro 146-gil, gangnam-gu, seoul. it should be nearby you, yeah?” you hum giving her the confirmation she needed.

“see you then, hannie.”

you walked back into class and all eyes were on you, “so?” your teacher stares you down, waiting for some kind of response.

“what?”

your teacher huffs in annoyance, “what was so important?” your thoughts quickly scramble to make up an excuse, “ah- my grandmother passed away.” you give off a weak smile to keep your act straight as your teachers eyebrows narrow.

“i thought your grandmother passed last year?” it was true, but you had an excuse up your sleeve, “that was on my mother’s side, the recent one is on my father’s.”

mrs. lee quickly gave an apology, which you accepted. she didn’t know it was a lie after all.

———

after your classes came to an end, you found yourself in front of the building that hannie suggest you meet up in. but, it was starship entertainment? you weren’t sure why she’d ask to meet up here.

you shrugged before hitting an intercom, that looked very high-tec. you watched as it lit up and noticed a very small camera, recording your presence outside.

“come in,” a female voice is heard thru the intercom as the fancy doors opened to let you in.

“oh- t-thank you...?” you struggled to sound genuine as you were still, very confused. just why did hannie want to meet here?

you hesitantly entered the tall building and nervously looked around. you felt you stood out against the rest, but not in a good way.

you felt very underdressed, everyone else looked as if they were wearing designer clothes (they probably were), you didn’t feel like you fit in.

a taller figure was approaching you with a smile and it felt like time slowed down as you took in their physique. she was nearly 6-feet tall, her smile was very charming, alluring. her hair was on the shorter side, seemed to be a wolfcut. she has a leather jacket on, seemed to be in the middle of recording something, but you weren’t totally sure.

she looked exactly like the female from the fancan video hannie had sent you. just what was hannie playing at?

“hello, are you y/n?” the tall female looked at you with the same charming smile she approached with. with a slow nod, you gave her the confirmation she needed.

“i can’t believe we’re finally meeting each other! my name is ahn yujin,” she leaned in to whisper in your ear, “you know me as hannie~” the teasing tone of her voice made you jolt back, surprised that the female was actually hannie.

“h-hannie?” your voice was failing you. the sudden surprise of learning she’s your closest online friend was big, you could barely let out your voice.

she gave a simple nod before saying, “you can call me yujin now!”. she reached for your wrist, making your pull it back without thinking.

her eyebrows furrowed and yujin looked down at the ground, “ah, i’m sorry. this must be a shock..”

you nodded, “very shocking, i mean i was just watching a fancam of you a few days ago.”

yujin let out a giggle, “i wanted to know your thoughts~” she lightly punched your arm with that same smile.

faking hurt, you grabbed your arm and yelped in pain, “you pain me, yujin!” you laughed, before noticing yujin was looking at you with wide-eyes.

“what?”

“you called me yujin this time,” her voice seemed filled with emotion. what emotion? you couldn’t read it.

you shrugged “you told me i could.”

yujin pulled you in for a tight bear hug, “this makes me so happy! i can’t wait to introduce you to the others~”

you smiled as you gave the same amount of strength into the hug, “already? we just met~” you teased as you received a pinch in response.

A/N: maybe there will be a part two? we shall find out in the future. i do like how this turned out, did you guys enjoy?

TAGS... idol!yujin x fan!reader, tooth-rotting fluff, light angst, online friends to irl friends to lovers, friends to lovers, reader becomes a fan of yujin after she introduces ive to them.

TAG LIST...

@zuritastic

[benslefteyebrow]

Hi! Hope I'm not bothering you but on one of your posts you mentioned you take fic reqs,

would you be able to write a benlor centric fic where everyone goes to an amusement park but Ben and Taylor hold off going on the bigger rides (Both dont mind going on rides as much as the others) so end up holding the bags for everyone and spending some time together? If not then that's 100% fine! Tyvm!!

Hiii thank you so much for this request! This was so fun to write! Hope you enjoy <3

Something Stupid - Benlor

Benlor, fluff, wc: 1313. Read with 'Something Stupid' by Frank Sinatra.

Ben didn’t have high expectations. 

Since losing his voice, he became used to solitude. Those around him were too impatient— unwilling to put up with a boy with anger issues and no way to communicate them.

Aiden was the only one who could understand him until the Sahara.

At first, it was obligatory and painfully awkward on occasion, but gradually, the forced meetups meant for planning became casual hangouts, and the stiff obligation to get along became a genuine connection.

“I want to go on that one!” Aiden pointed wildly at the large rollercoaster that the park was known for.  From the ground, they could hear the screams from the top large structure.

All their adventures brought them to Ash’s house, the arcade, and eventually— the amusement park.

“We just ate,” Ashlyn said exasperated.

“But the lines short,” Logan offered.

“Yeah, so, unless you’re…chicken,” Aiden teased. He was opposite to the way he was when they were kids. That made two of them.

“I’m in,” Tyler said. “Tay?”

Taylor shrugged with an uneasy smile. “No way, my stomach can’t handle it,”

Tyler’s confused expression didn’t go unnoticed by Ben, but it did go unnoticed by Aiden. “Ben?”

He shook his head.

“Shucks. You and Tay are on bag duty, then,” Aiden said.

Ben and Taylor sat at the edge of a nearby fountain. 

They put all the bags together in a somewhat neat pile at their feet.

Large groups of teens passed back and forth. The mists from the fountain sprayed Ben’s neck, but Ben was only focused on Taylor and her bouncing knee.

He tapped her and she startled in surprise. 

“What’s up?” she asked. She plastered on a small smile that didn’t hide her panic.

He held up his phone, and the music app opened on his screen.

“Oh, sure,”

Ben switched to the notes app and typed out, “U choose” before handing it to her.

He rummaged through Aiden’s backpack. He ignored the hand puzzles and other toys that Aiden would somehow use within the day and found his earbuds at the bottom.

Ben reached over and plugged the wire into the bottom of his phone.

He didn’t rush her, but he watched as she scrolled through his playlists, humming a song under her breath. He tried to remember what the song was called and made a mental note to add it to the playlist he made for her.

Her dark hair fell in her face, framing her warm skin. Ben was relieved that she seemed more relaxed.

“Mm, this one,” Taylor said. She pressed on one of Ben’s classic pop playlists, though he had a few of her indie rock ones saved. 

Still, he loved the peaceful vibes that came with it. It was his comfort playlist.

She kept the left earbud in his ear, and he accepted the right one from her. Their fingertips grazed and Ben took back his hand too quickly. He scooted closer as he adjusted the earbuds, allowing their shoulders to brush. Taylor bristled at first, but then she relaxed against him.

“You don’t like roller coasters?” Ben signed to her with clumsy fingers. It was Taylor’s idea to learn ASL for easy communication. Particularly, when they were in the phantom dimension and Ben didn’t have time to write to them. Taylor and Ben were both steadily improving at it.

Everyone else was learning it, Aiden in particular, but Ben and Taylor made the most progress.

“I do,” Taylor said slowly as she recalled the signs with her hands. “But not after eating. I don’t think my stomach could handle that.”

Ben nodded in understanding. “Lily always gets sick on rides.”

Taylor grimaced. “Poor Lily.” Her fingers fumbled over the precise letters. 

“Tyler?” Ben asked.

The panic returned to Taylor’s eyes and she glanced at the line. Ben followed her gaze, though the rest of the group had long since disappeared into the line. It looked like it was getting longer instead of shorter. 

“I used to force him to go on rides with me when we were little since our mom didn’t want to,” she said, though her fingers faltered. Ben listened intently, putting the music volume down to hear her better.

“He always said they were for kids, but I know he secretly loves them.” 

Her shoulders relaxed again against his calmness graced her features. Her brown lips curled into a small smile, pulling against her teeth.

“I’m happy to see him open up to everyone. He always tries to act so grown up, but he needs this,” Taylor looked at Ben and he was startled. "We needed this."

 He didn’t realize he was staring.

“Oh! I forgot to sign,” Taylor said. 

Ben shook his head, it’s fine, he didn’t say.

A comfortable, if not buzzing silence filled the space between them.

In the place of words, one of Ben’s favourite songs started. It was one his parents used to dance to together when he was a kid. He would along with it before his voice was ruined, and then they stopped dancing. 

I know I stand in line/Until you think you have the time/to spend the evening with me.

He wondered if they began dancing again after he moved in with Aiden.

“Do you like roller coasters?” Taylor asked.

Ben hesitated. “I did, but..” He signed slowly. It was lame, not worth admitting, but she’d just been vulnerable with him. He trusted her not to judge him.

And then I go and spoil it all/By saying something stupid like, “I love you”

His breath hitched.

“I can’t--“ won’t, his mind reprimanded him. “Scream. It feels…” his fingers curled into his palms.

“Like there’s something wrong with you?” Taylor offered.

He nodded. “That.”

They let the song fill the space again. Ben put the volume up, and Taylor hummed along quietly.

“This song is nice,” Taylor said.

I practice every day/To find some clever lines to say/To make the meaning come true.

He drummed his fingers against his pants, not exactly on the beat. It was a distraction from his quickening pulse.

But then I think I'll wait/Until the evening gets late/And I'm alone with you.

“Hey, Ben?” Taylor said.

He looked at her. He looked into her eyes and knew he must’ve heard his heart. Why was it so loud in his ears?

“When they get back, let’s go on a roller coaster together. Just us, and…” she tucked her hair behind her hair uncomfortably.

The time is right, your perfume fills my head/The stars get red, and, oh, the night's so blue.

“Whoever screams first loses,” Taylor said.

Though he knew the song from memory, he missed the lyric that came after over the snort that escaped him.

He slapped a hand over his mouth. The sound was pitchy. Did he always laugh like that? He couldn’t remember the last time he heard himself laugh.

But with Taylor, it came easily. She knew exactly what to say.

“Is that a…” Taylor’s eyes widened.

“Yes,” Ben signed. “I’d like that,”

He dropped his hand from his face and it grazed Taylor’s thigh as it landed carelessly between them. He didn’t miss the way her finger grazed his or the way their pinkies locked as the last part of the song faded out.

I love you

They caught sight of the rest of the group from the line. They waved to each other until the movement of the line pushed them out of sight again.

I love you

Throughout it all, their pinkies stayed interlocked, and it was a sign of their promise.

I love you