#indiesthoughts

[littleindulgences]

Your day was going pretty good for once, all things considered—you woke up feeling rested, it was your day off, you even finally managed to finish the errands you were forced to put off all week!

…Then you get home. Your fridge is dead.

Of course it is.

You stand in front of the open door with one hand on your hip, the other on your chin, contemplating when the fuck, how the fuck, this could have happened. Your fresh groceries sit on the counter behind you, stuff you just went out to get because you assumed your fridge would still be operational when you returned. It’s your fault, really, for putting the bar so high.

Finally, after a whole three minutes of bemoaning your luck, you resolve to pull out the old cooler you shoved into your closet and put everything that would turn into a food poisoning nightmare on ice. Once you get everything put away, and the puddles of water mopped up, you put in a maintenance order and pray the landlord actually sends someone this time.

You leave the cooler in the corner, crack open a bottle of wine, and mourn the loss of your good day.

A couple days pass and you forget all about the work order. You figured out the next morning that the fridge wasn’t dead after all, it just got unplugged…somehow. Just added fuel to your “the building is haunted” fire. You simply plugged the fridge back in and went about your life, no biggie.

It was a big biggie.

You’re just out fetching the mail when it happens.

“Hello? Maintenance! Is anyone home?” The gruff, deep voice carries easily down the hall. You don’t register it at first, flicking through your mail, until the voice calls out again: “Hello? Maintenance, comin’ in!”

Wait. Maintenance.

The fucking fridge!

You dash down the hall, practically skidding to a stop in front of your apartment where two large—and you mean large, damn—men hover.

You avoid looking them directly in the eye as your pulse throbs in your throat, cheeks flushing in embarrassment. You’re sure the whole hall must’ve heard them, fuck.

“I’m so sorry!” you say, awkwardly pushing yourself between the biggest man and your doorway. “I’m sorry, there’s nothing actually wrong, I fixed it already! There was nothing wrong with the fridge, it just came unplugged.” You force a laugh, brushing a stray lock of hair behind your ear. You still don’t look at them.

“‘S alrigh�� ma’am, no problem at all,” says the man, and wow his voice is nice—

“It’s just, there wasn’t a way for me to cancel the work order,” you explain. “I’m so sorry you had to come all the way up here.”

Oh God, what if they try to come inside to double check? You’re cursing yourself for picking today to go out in your house clothes—short shorts and a tank that doesn’t completely cover your stomach—but the building was always so hot and you would’ve melted if you stayed in your work uniform—

“It’s okay, ma’am, really,” he’s saying again, “We’re glad there’s not an issue. You live on the second floor with no elevators, we didn’t want to bring a new fridge up anyway.” You giggle for real this time.

Then you risk glancing up at them.

Oh God…

They’re fucking beautiful. The man in front of you—his name tag reads John—is an absolute bear. Thick and broad, covered with hair, smiling gently at you like he really doesn’t blame you for your mix-up. And the guy behind him, you think his tag says Kyle, could be a supermodel: smooth, dark skin, a little leaner than John but still mouthwatering. The lopsided grin he’s giving you makes your heart race. The cap he wears makes him look almost boyish.

“Right,” you say, hoping you don’t sound as breathless as you feel. “Sorry again.”

Kyle absently licks his lips and you think you might pass out.

“Here. In case something else happens, you can reach me directly.” John hands you a crisp business card, lingering just slightly when your fingers brush his. They’re rough. Makes sense.

“Thanks,” you breathe. Kyle looks at you like he’s suppressing a laugh, then taps John on the shoulder, signaling him to leave.

“Take care, love.” John turns away from you with a wink, and you watch his arm flex as he hoists his toolbag and follows Kyle to the staircase. Kyle waves cheekily back at you before he descends.

Once you’re safely inside the apartment, you bury your face in your hands with a deep groan. And if you already begin brainstorming other things that might mysteriously break in the near future, well, that’s your business.

@beloveds-embrace ✨

[littleindulgences]

writer!reader staring off into space, smack in the middle of a FANTASTIC brainstorm, tapping her fork against the table every so often. you’re oblivious to anything around you. the vibe is immaculate.

johnny, at the mercy of a terrible, horrifying death glare, frozen in place as he scrambles to think of something he might’ve done to piss you off. the slow tap tap tap of your fork makes his lungs seize.

“WHAT?” he finally shouts, half standing up, flinging mashed potatoes everywhere. “What, bonnie? I can’t take it, I’m sorry, I swear I’ll make it up to you, just SPEAK woman!”

He’s panting. You blink slowly at him, then slump forward until your head hits the table.

“Damnit, Johnny,” you groan, “Now I’ve lost it.”

“I—what?”

“I was in the zone! Brainstorming! It was perfect!”

“Yer…yer not mad at me? I didnae screw up?”

“What? No!”

He sinks back into his chair. Both of you stare at the table.

“So…” he says. “What were ya thinkin’ about?”

You close your eyes. “I don’t even remember.”

[littleindulgences]

hello! you can call me indie :)

i’m new to all of this, and the majority of this will likely be COD—at least until i settle into this lol. i’d love to hear y’all’s brainworms, but i am not taking requests as of now. nothing against anyone, of course i’ll open them up later, it’s just a little difficult for me to keep up with rn <3.

I WILL NOT WRITE: incest, explicit smut

i’ll try to start a masterlist, but like requests, my shitty memory will be against me on this. if i forget to add something, use the tag “indiesthoughts” to find stuff!

also, i’m not gonna go through people’s blogs to find their ages but if you are a minor, please do not follow me, and do not interact with my posts. i’m serious. honor code guys.

Maintenance Crew - 141 x reader

Resting Bitch Face - Soap x reader