#literally the best purchase i ever made | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

i-like-writing-stuff · 9 months ago

Text

the other five [ five hargreeves x reader ]

request: Hello! This is my first time desperately requesting a fic because the new season is SO bad 😭 Can you write a fic where the reader finds out about everything that happened between Five & Lila and then she gets taken away by one of the Fives at the deli and promising her that he’ll treat her better than OG Five (You can also add a part where OG Five finds out about this and lives to regret it)

a/n: AU where everything in that trash season was the same, except when five made the first jump in s1 he made it in his 32 yr old body bc i will not have y/n pull a zach justice (lmao)

even if lila did 😭😭

anyways basically everyone is the same age

i like to think of the five that comforts y/n as the five that explained everything to five in the last episode because that one literally felt like the five we were supposed to get, the five that was there all the first three seasons

sorry i cant stop trashing this season you guys 😭 i’m just so disappointed

summary: after breaking up with five, you make up with… well, five

part two

“Leave me alone, Five!” You yelled in despair, pushing the man before you away, “Actually, first take me back home, you psycho! I have nothing to say to you!”

“Y/N, please, just hear me out!” Five tried to reason with you, as if anything he would say could make your heart glue itself back.

You were standing in the subway station after Five had blinked himself and you away from the family- or what was left of it, watching him at loss of words. You didn’t recognize the man before your eyes, as much as you tried. You didn’t even have time to gather all your thoughts since there was yet another impending apocalypse on its way, so your mind was completely all over the place.

Five Hargreeves was not the same Five Hargreeves you fell in love with all those years ago. He was not the same man who had stolen your heart and made you feel like you were the most precious person in the world. He wasn’t your partner anymore, he wasn’t your lover. Your boyfriend wasn’t there. You looked at this person and there was a stranger, acting as if he was the same who had hugged you, held your hand, kissed you all those many times. You were questioning everything about him now.

“Take me back!” You yelled again, ignoring his same pleas, curling your hand in a fist, “I’m this fucking close to making you ash!”

As your pure anger got the best of you, you were ready to let your powers take over for a second. Obviously you weren’t actually going to hurt him, no matter how much you wanted him to feel your pain, at least physically.

You met him six years ago, during the first time you tried to stop the apocalypse. You were also one of the extraordinary kids, but luckily enough, Reginald Hargreeves didn’t manage to adopt you- more so, purchase you. You only met Five not long after he managed to time travel back to his family in 2019 after spending all those decades by himself. Before you knew it, you were dragged into the Hargreeves family and your relationship soon after developed.

Your six year relationship that was so merry a few hours ago. Now it was crumbled, trashed.

What hurt was that it was six years only to you. Five managed to block himself seven years away from you, only in the presence of Lila.

“This is so fucking stupid,” You scoffed, fighting back the tears in your eyes, “It’s fucking over! Do you want me to spell it out for you?!”

“I want you to listen!” Five didn’t give up on arguing, “I thought I’d never see you again!”

“You didn’t want to see me again!” You screamed, wailing your hands in the air, “Fucking save it- It’s over! I don’t want to ever see you again if we survive this apocalypse! You ruined our relationship, you ruined your brother’s marriage, family! For fucking Lila!”

You hated him absolutely. The mere thought of his infidelity, of the nerve to act as if he still loved you, it was all despicable.

You grew to love all of your boyfriend’s siblings, and also your nieces and nephews, even if you and Five were not yet married. You planned to be a part of the family officially, but still wanted to focus on your careers, you wanted to adjust yourself to your old life, back to your origins.

“Y/N, please!” He tried to step, towards you, but you started stepping away.

Thoughtlessly, because of all your anger, you just walked towards the first train approaching you, fully intending to be away from him at whatever cost.

“If you don’t want to take me back, I’ll fucking find my own way!” You hopped onto the train, watching as he tried to catch up with you.

But he was too late.

In hindsight, maybe it was not the smartest idea, but you were just so devastated nothing made sense to you anymore. You spent the past six years thinking that you are set for the rest of your life, now that the world wasn’t ending anymore. You reconnected with your family, you built a career for yourself and were living happily with Five, you had literally just finished settling yourself in the new house you bought together. You couldn’t understand how he could do this to you.

You couldn’t understand how Lila could betray your friendship either, especially Diego and their kids.

You tried to make it make sense, be reasonable- it was only a few hours to you, but they were lost in this subway system for seven years.

But then again, Five was lost in the future 45 years by himself and he didn’t give up on trying to return to his family once.

Now he did, he gave up on trying to return to you.

That’s definitely another aspect that stung.

“Fucking piece of shit,” You mumbled, as the train approached its first station, “How do I fucking get out of here?”

You stumbled out of the sub, taking in your surroundings. It was yet another crumbled down station, but if you were to be at least a tiny bit fair, it was maybe a bit better kept. You looked around curiously, trying to figure out where to go from now on. Your fire-based superpowers were totally useless in this situation, so you hated to admit that you were in a bit of a pickle.

You rolled your eyes, as Five rounded the corner and stopped in his tracks, watching you with widened eyes.

“You again?” You sighed angrily, “Take me back or get out of my sight, Five.”

Five raised his brows, putting his hands in his pockets curiously. He didn’t say a word yet, as a small smile tugged at the corner of his lips. He slowly stepped towards you, not taking his eyes off you once. For a split second, you stopped as well, sending that something was up.

You took in his features, trying to make sense of what was going on, realizing that he didn’t have a coat on him. He was wearing the exact three piece suit an black tie, he was wearing the same silver watch on his left hand, but he didn’t have his coat on.

“Y/N,” He smiled, stopping in front of you, “I never thought I’d see you again, more so here.”

“What the fuck is going on?” You calmly asked, over-analyzing the man before you.

His smile didn’t drop. It was a genuine one, a smile you hadn’t seen in a while. Things between you and Five were okay a few hours ago, but he hadn’t watched you with this look since you first met. His eyes were sincere, taking in every single feature of yours, traveling all over your body.

“I take it your Five danced the devil’s tango with Lila,” He sighed deeply, raising a hand to gently brush away your tears.

When did you even start crying?

Your mind was scrambled all over the place, but at that exact moment you couldn’t say another word. You just melted into his touch, feeling warmth. It really hadn’t been that long since Five touched you, but this touch felt different. His hand rested on your cheek, as his thumb caressed you lightly. His touch was so intoxicatingly sweet, sending shivers down your spine.

“I’m so sorry I’m a literal shitface in some other timelines,” He lightly shook his head, “I’m so sorry.”

“What is going on?” You asked once again, calmer this time.

For whatever reason, you relaxed in an instant. You couldn’t tell if it was because of his gentle touch or simply his presence. Ironic, since just ten minutes ago you were ready to set him on fire.

“Come with me, my love,” Five said, grabbing your hand in his, “I’ll explain everything.”

You didn’t fight his touch, locking your fingers with his. None of you said a word, as you watched you hands fit so perfectly in one another. How could your relationship be over when you were so good together?

You followed Five through the subway station, rounding the same corner he appeared from. You watched as he turned his head to give you a reassuring smile, lightly squeezing your hand in comfort.

After a few more steps and going down a couple of stairs, you widened your eyes seeing a literal deli tucked away in this godforsaken out of order subway system. The headlights above the front entrance were lit up, writing Max’s Delicatessen. You saw inside a huddle of people as you entered, gathering everyone’s attention.

When they all turned to look at you, you literally couldn’t tell whether you or the huddle of people was more shocked.

They were all Fives.

There was music playing inside, as the deli was full of different versions of your boyfriend, whether they were customers sitting at the tables, drinking coffee or having a meal, reading the newspaper or having a chat. There were also other Fives working around, waiting tables or cooking in the back.

Nonetheless, they all stopped to look at you.

“Yeah, yeah, Y/N is here, carry on, you guys,” The Five that was holding your hand waved the others off with his free hand, “She needs a moment, stop being creeps.”

“I can’t tell if this is a dream come true or my worst nightmare,” You said, looking around the deli, as Five guided you towards an empty booth.

You sat down as the other picked up again whatever they were doing, still watching you with the corner of their eyes. Five took a seat in front of you, still holding onto your hand on top of the table, using his other hand to rub small circles on your skin.

“I am not the Five that dragged you here, in case you didn’t tell yet,” Five managed to say, “But I’m pretty sure that you did, since I know you’re smarter than he gives you credit for.”

“He did mention that this subway system is the knot to multiple timelines,” You sighed, as Waiter Five set down two cups of steaming coffee on the table.

You watched him curiously, as he looked yet again exactly like Five, wearing just a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up, with a black tie, pantsuit pants and a server apron around the waist. He smiled at you warmly, setting down two small packs of sugar and a creamer.

“I’m sorry, my love, we don’t have any Irish Capuccinos around here, since you’re the first Y/N to set foot in here,” He apologetically smiled, “I can only get you a shot of whiskey, if you’d like.”

Of course they all knew your favorite coffee.

“Make it a bottle,” You said, cracking a smile for the first time, causing him to chuckle, before walking away to attend to your order.

“I can’t begin to explain how much I missed your smile, darling,” The Five before you said, as you turned back to him, “The Handler got to the Y/N in my timeline,” He added, as sadness took over his eyes, “I missed you so much.”

“I can’t understand how you’re the same Five that fell in love with Lila,” You said, before quickly adding, “I mean- technically, you’re not, but still.”

“Everyone around here is a different version of me, from a different timeline,” He said, “I’m one of the many that didn’t go down that road.”

“Thank you, I guess,” You laughed, making him smile again.

What a sweet smile it was.

“When I lost you, I was a total wreck,” He confessed, as you couldn’t help but place your other hand on top of his, “I love you so much, Y/N, I could never hurt you like that no matter what. This is all such a fucked up turn of events, but when I saw you coming out of that train, my mind froze.”

“I love you too, Five,” You said, “But I need to wrap my head around what is going on- Everything is insane, I mean I’m right now in the middle of yet another apocalypse, I just found out that you love Lila and there’s just so fucking many of you.”

“I know, my love, I know,” Five nodded, “I wouldn’t dare to ask you accept everything so fast, I know it’s a lot to take in.”

“Can you just… hold me?” You asked, watching as he didn’t waste another second and got up to slide ne t yo you in the booth.

Wrapping one arm around your shoulders to pull you into his chest, he used his other one to caress your hair. You nuzzled your face into his shirt, taking in his scent, as you felt a wave of certitude wash over you. Five held you tightly into his arms, embracing you after years of your absence. He was grateful to have you in his arms once again.

And he was not about to let go anytime soon.

“I’ll always hold you, my love,” Five muttered, peppering small kisses in your hair.

The Five from your timeline watched from behind the window as you took comfort in his arms, but not exactly his arms.

This was only the beginning of his lifelong regret.

#the umbrella academy #the umbrella academy x reader #five hargreeves #five hargreeves x reader #five hargreeves imagines #number five x reader #the umbrella academy season 4 #the umbrella academy imagines #tua x reader #tua season 4 #tua netflix

2K notes · View notes

airosuiren · 1 month ago

Text

Part 2: The Family They Never Were

Part 1

A/N: AHHH thank you all for loving part 1!!! As promised, here’s part 2 where the Bat Family tries to get reader back but she’s THRIVING with Theo and her magical family isn’t about to let the Waynes ruin everything!!! Enjoyyy!!!

Six months had passed since you left Gotham behind. Six GLORIOUS months.

The Italian villa you and Theodore had purchased was nestled in the wizarding community of Verona - a stunning stone structure with creeping vines and a view that made your heart skip every morning. Magical fountains dotted the garden, and the library rivaled Hogwarts’ in beauty if not in size.

“Mrs. Nott?” Theodore’s voice called from the terrace. You still weren’t used to your new name, but it sent shivers down your spine every time you heard it.

Your wedding had been intimate but magical - literally. Held in the gardens of Hogwarts (McGonagall had insisted), with Professor Snape walking you down the aisle, looking profoundly uncomfortable in formal robes but utterly determined to fulfill his role. The Riddle brothers had threatened Theodore with creative hexes if he ever hurt you, while Blaise served as best man, his usual smirk replaced with genuine happiness.

You hadn’t invited the Waynes. They hadn’t noticed your absence anyway.

Until now.

“There’s mail,” Theodore said, handing you your morning coffee and a small stack of envelopes. “Including one with a Gotham postmark.”

Your heart stuttered as you recognized Bruce Wayne’s handwriting. Seven years of barely a word, and NOW he wanted to communicate?

The letter was short:

[Y/N],

We need to speak. The family is not whole without you. We’re coming to Italy next week. Alfred has tracked your address.

- Bruce

You handed it wordlessly to Theodore, who read it and immediately summoned parchment. “I’m contacting everyone,” he said firmly.

By “everyone,” he meant YOUR family - your REAL family.

Draco’s response came first: Already booking a portkey. No one upsets our Hufflepuff.

Then Snape’s terse note: I will arrive Tuesday. Bringing potions that leave no trace.

McGonagall was more diplomatic but no less determined: I believe it’s time for a family meeting. Your REAL family.

The Riddle brothers sent simply: We’re already in Naples. Be there tomorrow.

And so it happened that when the sleek Wayne Enterprises jet landed in Verona a week later, your home was already filled with your chosen family.

The doorbell rang precisely at 2 PM.

“I’ll get it,” Draco drawled, straightening his impeccable suit.

You heard muffled voices, then Draco’s coolly amused tone: “Ah, the famous Waynes. How… ordinary.”

They filed into your grand living room - Bruce leading with his imposing presence, followed by Dick, Jason, Tim, Damian, Alfred, and of course, Lila - who was openly gawking at the magical photographs moving on your walls and the enchanted ceiling that mirrored the sky outside.

What struck you most was how SMALL they seemed now. Not physically - Bruce was still a towering figure - but their presence felt diminished in your new world.

“[Y/N],” Bruce began, then stopped abruptly as he took in the room full of people. Professor Snape stood by the fireplace, his dark eyes cold. McGonagall sat regally in an armchair. The Riddle brothers lounged against a bookshelf, twirling their wands. Blaise, Pansy, and Astoria formed a protective semicircle around your chair. And Theodore stood directly behind you, hands resting possessively on your shoulders.

“What is this?” Bruce demanded. “We came for a family meeting.”

“This IS my family meeting,” you replied calmly. “Every person who truly cares about me is in this room.”

Lila snorted. “Oh please. These… freaks aren’t your family. WE are.”

Tom Riddle’s wand hand twitched dangerously, but Mattheo placed a restraining hand on his brother’s arm. “Careful,” he murmured. “We promised [Y/N] no unforgivables.”

“You abandoned [Y/N] for seven years,” Theodore said, his voice deceptively soft. “And now you appear demanding her attention?”

“We made mistakes,” Dick admitted, looking genuinely pained. “We didn’t realize-”

“Didn’t realize WHAT?” Pansy interrupted sharply. “That [Y/N] was worth your time? That your own DAUGHTER deserved basic affection?”

Bruce squared his shoulders. “We’ve come to bring you home, [Y/N].”

The room temperature seemed to drop several degrees as everyone stared at Bruce Wayne in disbelief.

“Home?” you repeated, rising slowly from your chair. “HOME? I AM home, Bruce. For the first time in my life, I am surrounded by people who see me. Who CHOSE me.”

“You’re a Wayne,” he insisted. “You belong in Gotham. With your real family.”

Professor McGonagall made a small noise of disgust. “Mr. Wayne, I have watched this young woman grow from a scared, neglected child into a powerful witch. I have dried her tears when your letters never came. I attended parent conferences YOU should have been at.”

“And I,” Professor Snape stepped forward, his black robes billowing, “supervised her advanced potions work while you were busy with your… other daughter. [Y/N] is the most gifted potioneer of her generation.”

“You… you don’t understand,” Bruce tried again.

“No, YOU don’t understand,” you said firmly. “I gave you eighteen years to be my father. You failed. These people picked up the pieces.”

Lila suddenly burst forward. “This isn’t FAIR! You get magic, a hot husband, a villa in Italy, and now you’re trying to steal Dad’s attention too?”

The absurdity of her statement made Blaise laugh out loud. “Merlin’s beard, she really is that delusional.”

“This conversation is over,” Theodore stated, his arm now around your waist. “Mrs. Nott has made her position clear.”

“Mrs… you’re MARRIED?” Tim gaped, speaking for the first time.

You held up your left hand, where a stunning emerald ring sat alongside your wedding band. “For three months now.”

“You didn’t even TELL us!” Bruce roared.

“Why would she?” Tom Riddle asked mildly. “You didn’t tell her when you adopted a new child every other year.”

“Look,” you sighed, suddenly tired of this whole charade. “I don’t hate you. Any of you. I just… don’t need you anymore. I have a husband who loves me, friends who would die for me, mentors who guide me. What could you possibly offer that I don’t already have?”

The silence that followed was deafening.

“Come on, Bruce,” Jason finally said, placing a hand on his adoptive father’s shoulder. “We lost this one. Years ago.”

Alfred stepped forward then, his elderly face lined with regret. “Miss [Y/N]… Mrs. Nott. For what it’s worth, I am truly sorry. I should have done more.”

“You were the only one who tried, Alfred,” you said softly. “Thank you for that.”

“This isn’t over,” Bruce stated, his Batman voice creeping in.

Draco laughed coldly. “Yes, it is. The wards around this property are now programmed to your magical signatures. You won’t be able to return without an invitation.”

“You can’t just-” Lila began shrilly.

“Actually, they can,” Astoria cut in sweetly. “Magic is wonderful that way.”

As the Waynes were ushered out, you felt Theodore’s arms encircle you from behind. “Are you alright, love?” he murmured against your hair.

“Better than alright,” you answered truthfully. “I feel… free.”

Later that evening, with your chosen family gathered around your dinner table, glasses raised in a toast, Professor Snape offered rare words of approval:

“To [Y/N] Nott. Who proved that family is not determined by blood, but by who stays when the darkness comes.”

“To [Y/N]!” they echoed.

And as Theodore squeezed your hand under the table, you knew with absolute certainty that you had made the right choice. The Bat Family might save Gotham every night, but they had failed to save you.

Fortunately, you had saved yourself.

A/N: AHHHHH that was so satisfying to write!!! I hope you all loved it!!! The idea of the Waynes showing up all entitled only to find reader’s REAL family already there to protect her just made me soooo happy!!! Let me know if you want more stories in this universe!!! Theo and [Y/N] in Italy living their best magical life while the Bat Fam realizes what they lost FOREVERRR!!! Enjoyyy!!!

xzmickeyzx

prettiest-thing-in-the-morgue

638 notes · View notes

alfheimr · 1 year ago

Text

My Favorite Cheap Art Trick: Gradient Maps and Blending Modes

i get questions on occasion regarding my coloring process, so i thought i would do a bit of a write up on my "secret technique." i don't think it really is that much of a secret, but i hope it can be helpful to someone. to that end:

this is one of my favorite tags ive ever gotten on my art. i think of it often. the pieces in question are all monochrome - sort of.

the left version is the final version, the right version is technically the original. in the final version, to me, the blues are pretty stark, while the greens and magentas are less so. there is some color theory thing going on here that i dont have a good cerebral understanding of and i wont pretend otherwise. i think i watched a youtube video on it once but it went in one ear and out the other. i just pick whatever colors look nicest based on whatever vibe im going for.

this one is more subtle, i think. can you tell the difference? there's nothing wrong with 100% greyscale art, but i like the depth that adding just a hint of color can bring.

i'll note that the examples i'll be using in this post all began as purely greyscale, but this is a process i use for just about every piece of art i make, including the full color ones. i'll use the recent mithrun art i made to demonstrate. additionally, i use clip studio paint, but the general concept should be transferable to other art programs.

for fun let's just start with Making The Picture. i've been thinking of making this writeup for a while and had it in mind while drawing this piece. beyond that, i didn't really have much of a plan for this outside of "mithrun looks down and hair goes woosh." i also really like all of the vertical lines in the canary uniform so i wanted to include those too but like. gone a little hog wild. that is the extent of my "concept." i do not remember why i had the thought of integrating a shattered mirror type of theme. i think i wanted to distract a bit from the awkward pose and cover it up some LOL but anyway. this lack of planning or thought will come into play later.

note 1: the textured marker brush i specifically use is the "bordered light marker" from daub. it is one of my favorite brushes in the history of forever and the daub mega brush pack is one of the best purchases ive ever made. highly recommend!!!

note 2: "what do you mean by exclusion and difference?" they are layer blending modes and not important to the overall lesson of this post but for transparency i wanted to say how i got these "effects." anyway!

with the background figured out, this is the point at which i generally merge all of my layers, duplicate said merged layer, and Then i begin experimenting with gradient maps. what are gradient maps?

the basic gist is that gradient maps replace the colors of an image based on their value.

so, with this particular gradient map, black will be replaced with that orangey red tone, white will be replaced with the seafoamy green tone, etc. this particular gradient map i'm using as an example is very bright and saturated, but the colors can be literally anything.

these two sets are the ones i use most. they can be downloaded for free here and here if you have csp. there are many gradient map sets out there. and you can make your own!

you can apply a gradient map directly onto a specific layer in csp by going to edit>tonal correction>gradient map. to apply one indirectly, you can use a correction layer through layer>new correction layer>gradient map. honestly, correction layers are probably the better way to go, because you can adjust your gradient map whenever you want after creating the layer, whereas if you directly apply a gradient map to a layer thats like. it. it's done. if you want to make changes to the applied gradient map, you have to undo it and then reapply it. i don't use correction layers because i am old and stuck in my ways, but it's good to know what your options are.

this is what a correction layer looks like. it sits on top and applies the gradient map to the layers underneath it, so you can also change the layers beneath however and whenever you want. you can adjust the gradient map by double clicking the layer. there are also correction layers for tone curves, brightness/contrast, etc. many such useful things in this program.

let's see how mithrun looks when we apply that first gradient map we looked at.

gadzooks. apologies for eyestrain. we have turned mithrun into a neon hellscape, which might work for some pieces, but not this one. we can fix that by changing the layer blending mode, aka this laundry list of words:

some of them are self explanatory, like darken and lighten, while some of them i genuinely don't understand how they are meant to work and couldn't explain them to you, even if i do use them. i'm sure someone out there has written out an explanation for each and every one of them, but i've learned primarily by clicking on them to see what they do.

for the topic of this post, the blending mode of interest is soft light. so let's take hotline miamithrun and change the layer blending mode to soft light.

here it is at 100% opacity. this is the point at which i'd like to explain why i like using textured brushes so much - it makes it very easy to get subtle color variation when i use this Secret Technique. look at the striation in the upper right background! so tasty. however, to me, these colors are still a bit "much." so let's lower the opacity.

i think thats a lot nicer to look at, personally, but i dont really like these colors together. how about we try some other ones?

i like both of these a lot more. the palettes give the piece different vibes, at which point i have to ask myself: What Are The Vibes, Actually? well, to be honest i didn't really have a great answer because again, i didn't plan this out very much at all. however. i knew in my heart that there was too much color contrast going on and it was detracting from the two other contrasts in here: the light and dark values and the sharp and soft shapes. i wanted mithrun's head to be the main focal point. for a different illustration, colors like this might work great, but this is not that hypothetical illustration, so let's bring the opacity down again.

yippee!! that's getting closer to what my heart wants. for fun, let's see what this looks like if we change the blending mode to color.

i do like how these look but in the end they do not align with my heart. oh well. fun to experiment with though! good to keep in mind for a different piece, maybe! i often change blending modes just to see what happens, and sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn't. i very much cannot stress enough that much of my artistic process is clicking buttons i only sort of understand. for fun.

i ended up choosing the gradient map on the right because i liked that it was close to the actual canary uniform colors (sorta). it's at an even lower opacity though because there was Still too much color for my dear heart.

the actual process for this looks like me setting my merged layer to soft light at around 20% opacity and then clicking every single gradient map in my collection and seeing which one Works. sometimes i will do this multiple times and have multiple soft light and/or color layers combined.

typically at this point i merge everything again and do minor contrast adjustments using tone curves, which is another tool i find very fun to play around with. then for this piece in particular i did some finishing touches and decided that the white border was distracting so i cropped it. and then it's done!!! yay!!!!!

this process is a very simple and "fast" way to add more depth and visual interest to a piece without being overbearing. well, it's fast if you aren't indecisive like me, or if you are better at planning.

let's do another comparison. personally i feel that the hint of color on the left version makes mithrun look just a bit more unwell (this is a positive thing) and it makes the contrast on his arm a lot more pleasing to look at. someone who understands color theory better than i do might have more to say on the specifics, but that's honestly all i got.

just dont look at my layers too hard. ok?

#process #art tutorial #unsure what else to tag this as. if this does not post properly i will cry.

2K notes · View notes

evie-sturns · 5 months ago

Text

your christmas gift to matt 🎄

———————————————

it was coming to the end of the present opening, matt sits in a pile of teared up wrapping paper with the largest grin you’ve possibly ever seen on his face. his cheeks are a rosy red from the heating, which was definitely cranked up to the max after you kept complaining about how cold it was in this house.

“i love all of it- i mean how did you even think of this! i’ve wanted it for ages but i never said anything! it’s like you read my mind or some shit.” matt laughs excitability, a big smile spread across his face as he holds up the lego batman set you got him. “what can i say- you’re literally batman!” i tease, “i just sensed your aura, had to get the set for you.” i smile.

matt laughs, scooping up all of the wrapping paper around him and stuffing it in the bin bag.

he was just so clueless about what you had in store for him.

you and matt had been dating for 3 years now, you didn’t want kids, definitely not yet atleast, but there was one thing matt wanted, more than anything, which is basically the same concept…. all he yaps about is this one thing, he could never make the commitment to buy it, never. but you definitely could.

“matt- i have one last present for you.” i speak, fidgeting with your hands nervously. confusion washes over him, “but we already unwrapped everythi-“ he speaks, but he stops as i stand up, walking to behind the couch and pulling out a box. loosely wrapped in green christmas tree wrapping paper. his eyebrows furrow, as he stares at it.

i sit down on the floor infront of him, clutching the box in your lap.

“i uhm- hope you’re not too mad at me for this purchase- but you’ve always talked about it and-“ i ramble on and on, trying to downplay the present i just got him. “you’re edging me jesus.” he laughs, running a hand through his hair.

i place the box in his lap, and he instantly starts unwrapping it, to reveal a large cardboard box…

‘meeow’ a familiar noice booms throughout the box. matt’s head instantly snaps up to look at me, his lips slightly parted. his eyes are wide as he freezes. “no you didn’t-“ he instantly speaks, his voice soft and panicked. i gnaw on my bottom lip nervously as i look at him.

he gently lifts open the flaps of the cardboard box, peeking inside.

a cat. you had got him a cat. a fluffy white kitten, with bright blue eyes of course, to match matt’s.

his hand trembles as he reaches inside the box, gently lifting the small animal out. he clutches the kitten to his chest, holding it like it’s made of glass. his hands are fully shaking now, i can’t see his face due to the fact his hair is flopped infront of his as he looks down at it.

he’s fully silent, my heart thumps as i wait for any sort of reaction, but he just clings to the cat. his large hands almost covering the whole thing.

“do you- do you like it??” i speak nervously.

matt nods silently, before looking up at me with tear filled eyes, “i lov- i love her.” his voice breaks as he gently places the cat down in the box. he’s crying, oh my god.

“oh- aw matt-!” i laugh with a smile as he wipes at his eyes frantically. i pull him into my chest as he lets out a loud hiccup, his tears streaming down his face and dripping onto my christmas sweater.

“i’m sorry- i’m just really happy.” he sobs out through a laugh, his arms wrapped around my waist deathly tight. “i’ve always wanted- a cat and- and now we have one and-“ he cries, pulling away from my chest to lift the kitten out of the box. his whole body shaking as he holds it like his firstborn child. “i love her- i love you- thank you so much this is the best thing that’s ever happened-“ he rambles,

i feel my own emotions start to surface as i look at him, god i am so inlove with this man.

——————-

@ilovemymannnnnnn n @sturnioloxlver r @buckys-goodgirl rl @sturniol0s @ilovemymannnnnnnn @chr1sgirl4life @luanetaluenta @sturnsssbow @mattfangirl l girl @luvr4miya a @luvtay111 @lolasturniolo @freshloveforthefit t @ruedowney @lovingchrissposts s @333michelle @h3arts4harry @jamiesturniolo o o @chrisstopherfilmed @ @daddyslilchickenfingers2 s2 @ev3rgreenxtrees ees @certifiednatelover er @solarsturniolo lo @mattsenthusiast t t @yomamaslays4lyfe @peachmels @alinaa131 @pepsiluvr0209 @creamoncreamoncream2 @szobofc @mattscoquette @blahbell668 @sturniolo04 @bitchydragonparadise @sturni0l0tripletzz @ratatioulle @sturnsfav @mattsonlybitch h @justalittle47 @sunsetsturniolos s@sturniolo04 @similartokayyz @sturnsintrouble @ilovemattsturn n @raysmayhem-72 2 @75sturn n @sturniol0s @secret-sturniolo @hfkeclnendmwodne @sturniolosass @gxldenlush @stonermattsgf @101sara @beccaluvschris @oliviasturniolo21 1 1 @imwetforyourmom @tylerstacobell @sunsetsturniolos @aliceloveschris @jayz4dayz 4 @sassysturniolo2008 @sunsetsturniolos ver r @nathandoesgf @starsturns234 @chrissturnsss s @joemamaaa42069 @sturnthepot @zayyluvz @realuvrrr @livialifesblog @sturnioloblogs @riowritesitall

#sturniolo #matt sturniolo #chris sturniolo #nick sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo x reader #sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo x reader #sturniolo fanfic

507 notes · View notes

gldrushh · 3 days ago

Text

GUILTY AS SIN? | DRABBLE

→ PAIRING: brother in law!jungkook x widowed fem!reader

→ WARNINGS: oc being a damsel in distress, emphasis on distress, mentions of insomnia, handyman!jk because he got us all feelings things, oc driving him insane (quite literally), whipped jk, flirty jk, unholy thoughts (can you blame her?), suggestive, kissing, fluff, domestic moments

→ W.C: 5.5k (whoops)

→ A/N: request from a cutieful ask that I accidentally deleted 😭😭🤦‍♀️ I'm so sorry anon I really hope you see this!! This was the ask for more context or if anyone's curious (I really hope I did it justice): "since you said you accept requests for drabbles etc.-or did you or am i making this up lol- i’d like to request a little thing. since i want y/n to understand how jungkook fits her life so easily, i imagined a little scenario in my head where something in her house gets broken and she can’t fix it by herself and gets it even messier and everything, and jungkook comes in and being a perfect handyman. Like literal husband material. Would fit in her house so well omg don’t judge me please you know what i mean right? Maybe she’ll get struck by a lightning and finally understand how jungkook is perfect for her and stops treating him with only little’s “i don’t hate you”😭😭😭 like helloo that is the most husband thing ever don’t live apart live together!!! plus handyman jk got me feeling things in my head ngl lol don’t judge me I’M SORRY HAVE A NICE DAY!💌"

Fridays didn’t feel like Fridays anymore.

There was a time when they smelled like oven-warm pizza and the kind of laughter that made your cheeks hurt.

They arrive tranquilly now, slipping in like a breeze through the kitchen window, brushing past your ankles before vanishing again.They were tired, you presume. Dragging their feet behind a week’s worth of lectures and papers, staff meetings and half-hearted nods in break rooms with bad coffee.

Tonight is no different. You return home just shy of the rise of moon, the university car park already thinning out as you sling your bag over your shoulder, exhaustion gnawing at the edges of your limbs. Your bag slumped onto the floor, missing its usual hook, but you didn’t bother correcting it. You barely managed to toe off your shoes when you enter inside, your mind already curled up beneath the comfort of your duvet, not asleep, but still.

The warmth here is a familiar fondle. The scent of coffee beans lingering from the blurry kind of rushed morning, a sweater thrown carelessly over the arm of the couch, your favorite mug turned upside down on the drying rack. You nudge your shoss beneath the bench for some dignity, and hang your lanyard on the little ceramic hook shaped like a leaf--a flea market find you told yourself you didn’t need, but bought anyway.

You tell yourself you’ll spend the night in. Maybe watch reruns of that one reality show where couples decorate homes under a tight budget, even though the drama feels scripted and the contestants are always suspiciously good-looking. You’re too tired for anything else. And sleep isn't exactly your best friend. Hasn't been for years and the slender orange bottles in the bathroom shelf only help so much.

But you'll try to make peace with it. You'll pour yourself some tea. You'll pretend to rest.

You shrugged off your coat and padded into the kitchen, your socks catching on the cool tiles. Your mother had sent a whole box of chamomile tea and though you had deemed the purchase dramatic and unnecessary, it had become a part of your routine, even had helped. Maybe not with the sleep exactly, but with the ritual. The motion of it. Perhaps there was something about the way the steam curled from the mug, about the soft floral taste blooming on your tongue.

You flicked the kettle on with one hand, digging through the tea box with the other, thumb brushing over foil packets and paper tags. You were just reaching for the mug—the one with a tiny chip on the handle, the one you never threw out because it had once been Minho’s favorite—when it happened. A sputtering hiss, like the dying breath of an appliance on its last leg. You freeze.

You pad toward the sound with the kind of dread that only adult independence teaches you. The overhead light flickers as you walk in—rude. You flick it again, squinting into the sudden brightness, only to be met with the absolute betrayal of your faucet spurting water like it’s trying to reenact a geyser, sounding alarmingly like a cough—if sinks could cough.

You turned, slowly. The faucet gave one last shake like it was shivering, then spat out a violent stream of water that shot sideways—directly across the counter and onto the floor.

“Oh, come on—!”

It happened fast. One second you were watching, horrified, and the next, you were slipping on the tile, a yelp caught in your throat as you stumbled forward, narrowly avoiding a face-first dive into the cabinet doors. Water sprayed in chaotic, unholy arcs, and all you could do was scramble for the towel drawer and grab anything vaguely absorbent to try and... do what? Patch it? Mop the mess?

The kettle beeped softly behind you, as if offended that you weren’t paying attention.

You drop to your knees, arms full of misguided hope and whatever towel you had on hand. You tug open the cabinet beneath the sink, only to be greeted with a far more dramatic leak than you were prepared for. It's not just dripping—it’s running, and you don’t need to be a plumber to know that water should not be forming a shallow puddle across your kitchen tiles.

Still, you try.

From what you learned from that one experience ages ago. Atleast it felt like it. The last time this had happened, Minho had still been here. Not that he was a great help. He had crouched down next to you, equally clueless, wearing an old college hoodie with the sleeves pushed up and a flashlight clamped between his teeth. The entire operation had failed in spectacular fashion—he had twisted the wrong knob, somehow made it worse. You remember him saying, “This is why plumbers make so much, sweetheart,” shaking his dripping bangs out of his eyes like a soaked retriever and you both ended laughing so hard you forgot to be mad.

You wedge the towel beneath the pipe, curse softly when it does absolutely nothing, and press your palm against the cabinet in frustration. It doesn’t help. “No, no, no,” In fact, the towel slips, sending a fresh arc of water across your shirt, soaking you down to the skin.

“Cool. Great."

The kitchen light above you flickers again. The universe, it seems, has a flair for theatrics.

And somewhere deep down, as water laps against the hem of your slacks and frustration coils behind your teeth, you think that maybe you should call your father but even if he dropped everything, it would take him hours. And any plumber worth their salt wasn’t showing up past eleven on a Friday night.They’d quote you something ridiculous and half of them wouldn’t even show.

You sat back on your heels and stared at the faucet as if it had personally offended you.

“I just wanted tea,” you said to it, as if it cared.

The towel slipped again. A fresh wave of water hit your calf.

You closed your eyes and took a deep breath.

When you opened them, you stood, sedate and careful, the weight of water squelching in your socks. The kettle had long since finished boiling, and the kitchen now smelled faintly of wet cloth and chamomile. It hit you then. Sharp, stupid, and far too late.

You were going to have to deal with this yourself.

You looked around the mess—water creeping toward the rug, the under-sink cabinet now a tiny swamp—and, you felt like stomping on the floor.

But you didn’t. Descions. Descions.

Instead, you walked toward the living room, your wet socks squelching softly on the floor like some small betrayal with every step. To your phone.The living room lamp glowed with its usual mellow burke, casting a familiar amber tepidity against the old armchair and the book you never finished last week.

You considered, briefly, knocking on a neighbor’s door. There was that older couple two houses down, always kind, always offering extra tangerines from their tree. But it was too late. Every window was dark. This wasn’t the kind of neighborhood where people stayed up. It was made of quiet porches, retired teachers, and families who went to bed after the ten o’clock news. You didn’t know many of them by name.

Besides, no one young lived here who had a wrench or a better idea or just... two working hands and a sense of plumbing.. Not anymore.

Your thumb hovered over your contact list. You scrolled aimlessly at first, names passing in a blur—colleagues, an ex-classmate from grad school, your old roommate who now lived somewhere with palm trees and said things like “detox weekends."

You paused when the screen stilled on him.

Jungkook.

The last message between you was just hours ago. You tapped it open, heartbeat hitching like it always did when you saw his name.

Jungkook [10:03 PM]:

"I can come pick you up."

You had replied right before you clocked out. The university halls had been emptying, and his voice had played in your head, low and patient in a way he rarely was with anyone else. But you had remembered his mother’s voice too—her mentioning something about an urgent meeting, his father stressed, something about a time-sensitive deal.

So you had told him no.

You [10:04 PM]:

"I heard mom talking about some big deal tonight. Focus on that. I’ll be fine, I promise."

Jungkook [10:05 PM]:

"I want to focus on you, angel."

You’d stared at that one a little longer. Your reply had come thorough.

You [10:06 PM]:

"I’ll be okay. Just heading out now. I’ll text you when I reach."

Jungkook [10:06 PM]:

"Send me your location anyway, yeah?"

And you had. You remember the map loading. The little pin that showed you halfway between the library steps and the bus stop, your tired feet dragging. You had gotten home. You meant to message him.

You just… hadn’t.

And now you thumbed over his contact again, chewing the inside of your cheek.

Would it be selfish? What if he hadn’t wrapped up work yet? What if that deal was still unfolding across tense boardrooms and cigar-stale air, with his father pacing like a panther? You didn’t want to pull him away from it just because you couldn’t tame a faucet. You should figure this out alone. You could figure this out alone.

Your phone buzzed before you made a decision.

A message. From him.

Jungkook [11:40 PM]:

"Tell me you've reached home, angel."

Your stomach twisted. Guilt blooming like mold in the back of your throat. You opened the message and typed quickly.

You [11:41PM]:

"Yes! Sorry. I got in and just crashed a little. Long day. I forgot to text."

The typing bubble appeared immediately.

Then disappeared.

Then appeared again.

Jungkook [11:43 PM]:

"Live location. Again."

Your fingers hesitated. You frowned. That was odd. He sounded off. Sharper than usual. Not even the quietly protective version of him that surfaced on late walks or busy subway platforms. This was tight. Worried. Paranoid? You don’t wanna argue with that.

You tapped the map again, sent your updated location.

Your phone lit up again the second after, not even giving you the chance to type out and ask if he's good with his hands? (He is.)

Jungkook [11:43 PM]:

"I'm coming over."

You stared at the message. Read it twice. It was… certain. No question mark. No soft preface like he usually gave. Not like, “Should we stop by that bookstore again?” or “Feel like something sweet tonight?” No, nothing of that sort. He sounded definite.

You [11:45 PM]:

"Wait, now? Why? Is everything okay?"

Jungkook [11:46 PM]:

"It will be after I see you."

You sat back against the armrest, stunned silent for a second. And then, unexpectedly, your chest loosened. Not all the way. Not enough to erase the mess in your kitchen or dry your clothes or make you feel less like a walking soggy dishrag. But enough to let the weight shift, to let something else settle in.

You didn’t have to ask.

He was just coming.

You didn’t even get the chance to ask.

There was something wild and lovely in that. And you had no reason to say no.

If anything, your knees were starting to ache and the towels weren’t doing much and if one more cabinet decided to leak, you might genuinely lose it.

You padded back into the kitchen with an exasperated sigh, hair tied up in a lopsided bun, wet socks thrown in the laundry basket and sleeves shoved past your elbows. The faucet was still dripping—not a full-on spray anymore, but enough that you had to keep a rag pressed under it while kneeling on a folded towel, praying the water wouldn't reach the hallway. The bucket you’d shoved under the sink was nearly full now.

“Come on,” you muttered, gripping the wrench tighter. “Just cooperate for once, you stupid little—” The knock came—two sharp raps, low and firm. The kind that didn’t ask for permission, just announced itself.

You startled, bumping your shoulder into the edge of the cabinet with a muffled curse. You stood up too fast, nearly slipping on the wet tile again as you shuffled your way toward the door, leaving a trail of soggy towel behind you like the saddest version of Hansel and Gretel.

When you opened the door, the hallway light spilled over the man in front of you—and for a moment, all you could do was stare.

Jungkook looked… wrong. Not bad. Just undone.

His hair was mussed, not in that calculated, magazine-cover way but like he'd dragged a hand through it too many times. His under shirt that complimented his navy blue suit jacket real nice was half-buttoned, slightly crooked, and the faint glint of moisture on his collarbone made you think he might’ve walked part of the way in the rain without noticing. Or maybe he’d driven with the windows down. You didn’t know.

But it was his face that startled you most.

There were creases that hadn’t been there earlier. Between his brows, along the line of his jaw—like worry had clawed through the muscle. His lips were pressed into a firm line, but his eyes—God, his eyes—landed on you like an earthquake landing on calm soil.

You opened your mouth to speak, maybe to ask what was wrong, but he beat you to it.

“Jesus, y/n.” He crossed the space in two strides and hauled you into him.His arms came around you, sudden and firm and full.

He pulled you to his chest like he needed to feel you breathe. You didn’t move. Couldn’t, really. Your cheek bumped against his chest and a sound of confusion spilled out of you, the worn material of his shirt warm under your skin, and his breath stuttered above you. You wondered if he hadn’t been breathing right. You wondered why.

Your forehead barely brushed his collarbone. He smelled like wind and smoke and his usual cologne, but the sharp edge of it was dulled by warmth. You didn’t even know what to say at first. Your hands fumbled before curling into the fabric of his coat. Your heart beat a little faster. “Jungkook…are you okay?” you managed, a little breathless, a little confused.

He didn’t answer immediately.

You felt it more than heard it—His chest rose again. Slowly this time. Not panicked. Just… relief. You felt the faint tremor of it, the way he exhaled like he’d been holding his breath for too long. His hand at your back tightened, his other curled lightly around your shoulder, fingers flexing once, like he was still checking you were really there.

"You gave me a fucking scare." He rasped against your temple, low and rough like tension left him one muscle group at a time.

Your brows pulled together, breath catching. "What?"

"Your location glitched." His hand curved around the back of your head, his voice dropping to your ear. “Said you were halfway to some fucking bridge, then blinked out. You didn’t text, you didn’t call—” He closed his eyes for a second.

You blinked, contrition and some sort of realization crashing into your chest like a tidal wave.

His grip tightened as if remembering it. "I think I broke half the traffic laws in this city trying to get to you." he muttered, jaw clenching as he leaned his forehead against yours. “Red lights. Lanes. Might’ve clipped a side mirror. I don’t know. Don’t care.”

“Oh my god,” Your voice went small. “I—I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to— I thought I sent it properly. I didn’t mean—”

He looked down at you then, brows still furrowed, frustration still etched into his face, but it was laced with something softer. Quiet worry. A tension he couldn’t seem to shake off even now, not when you were in his arms and clearly fine.

“I thought something happened to you,” he said, quieter now.

You couldn’t hold his gaze for too long. The penance burned too hot. You ducked your head, pressing your face into his shoulder, cheeks going warm. “I’m so sorry,” you whispered.

“You should be.” he muttered, but one of his hands came up to cradle the back of your head. It took you a second too long to realize your fingers were still curled in his coat in an embarrassing grip.

Inevitably, you did pull back—just enough to catch your breath, to speak properly.

But his eyes didn’t leave you. They tracked you, unwavering.

And then they dropped.

His brows furrowed again, more subtly this time, like he was recalibrating. His eyes skimmed your form with a confusion you couldn’t quite place, until he paused halfway down, raising a lone brow.

You followed his line of sight and—

Oh.

Oh, shit.

Your dress shirt had soaked through somewhere along the way. You’d been too distracted, too frantic, to notice that the thin cotton now bore a dozen little damp spots where stray faucet spray had kissed your chest and abdomen. The fabric clung in places it shouldn't, half translucent under the low light, revealing the outline of the camisole underneath, and your cheeks went hot in record time.

Your eyes widened. You stepped back fast. “Shit—oh, god, the kitchen—” you breathed, half to yourself.You turned abruptly, feet splashing against the wet tile again, panic reigniting as the sound of dripping water resumed its dominance in your ears.

Jungkook followed. Of course he did. His long strides eating up the hallway carpet before he stopped at the kitchen threshold.

You, for lack of a better word, flung yourself inside and the sight that greeted you was even worse than before. The bucket was near overflowing. Towels had started slipping from their makeshift barricade. Water gleamed beneath the fridge now, threatening to reach the living room carpet. You cursed again, louder this time, and bent to wrestle the mop back into place even though it had already given up.

There was a beat of silence behind you.

Then Jungkook’s voice, dry and unimpressed: “What the hell happened in here?”

You turned your head, heat rushing to your face, your soggy sleeves dragging like guilty flags. "I didn’t mean for it to get this bad. The faucet handle cracked while I was making tea, and then it wouldn’t stop leaking. I tried to turn it off underneath, but I think the valve’s jammed or something, and then I slipped, and the towels weren’t enough, and—”

He sighed, rubbing a hand over his face now. Exasperation flashing over his features—but not directed at you, not exactly. More at the mess itself, at the helplessness it had clearly stirred in you.. "Baby."

"I know I didn't do great." You wipe your hands on your thighs uselessly.

He didn’t answer right away. Then—with that bone-deep steadiness you had come to expect from him—Jungkook moved. Sliding off his suit jacket with one smooth pull, the fabric whispering against itself as he tossed it over the back of a dining chair, careless in a way he never was in public.. His undershirt clung to his shoulders in a way that made your stomach tilt.

Then he undid his watch with practiced fingers, slipping the leather strap open before placing it gently on your counter, far from the puddles.Quiet. Like he had done this a thousand times. Like fixing your mess was just the next item on his list. The silver caught the light, but your eyes didn’t linger there long. They trailed upward. To his arms.

The moment he reached for the knot of his tie, you forgot how to breathe properly. He reached up, his fingers working the knot loose with one practiced twist, tugging the fabric from his collar slowly. His throat flexed as he did, and you felt something shift in your stomach. The black silk slipped from his collar like a sigh, and your eyes followed it. His sleeves rolled up.

That’s when the stuck breath made a movement. Stuttered in your throat.

Ink emerged from beneath the fabric-those familiar lines, curves, the dark threads of his tattoos curling up his forearms like they had grown there, like they belonged. They caught the light and your memory all at once. Your mouth went a little dry.

His voice low, almost careless, as he crouched beside the sink. “Where’s the valve?”

You blinked. “Um. Under—under the cabinet.”

The same hands that had once made a mess of you in entirely different ways, in stolen moments, now curled around a rusty wrench.

"You need to do nothing." He gave you a brief look over his shoulder. “I’ve got it.” I've got you.

You stared. Blankly. Still half-dripping, still overwhelmed. "Do you… actually know how to fix that?”

A small, sardonic huff left him, like he found your surprise kind of insulting. He looked at the wrench—smaller than his palm, honestly—and turned it in his hand before answering.

“One of our safehouses in Daegu had pipes older than me,” he said, voice low, casual. “No plumber, no hot water. I figured it out. Got pretty good at it too. Don’t act so surprised.”

"I'm not. I know you've been good with your hands." You're not being cheeky when you say this, and are definitely not filing away the movement of his hand as he runs a practiced palm along the copper pipe.

Jungkook glanced up then. His eyes looking at you again—his gaze heavier this time, traveling down your soaked sleeves to the water-darkened hem of your shirt that clinged stubbornly to the side of you, the faintest smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “You sound like you’re remembering something, angel."

You turned quickly, heat crawling up your neck, your voice tumbling out too fast. “I’ll go change.”

Jungkook chuckled behind you. Low, deep, satisfied. Your silhouette vanishing behind a bedroom door with the softest click. He didn’t realize he was still listening for your footsteps until the silence settled in, heavy and warm and whole.

It was the first time in a long while that he’d been in your home like this. Not standing stiffly by the entryway waiting so he could steal you away.Not brushing fingertips against yours in a room half-full of people who didn’t know better. But here.

He let his eyes wander.

The place smelled like you. Something sweet, something quiet. A little bit like cinnamon and tea leaves and the faintest trace of your shampoo, clinging to the walls like memory.

His gaze drifted as he adjusted the position of the pipe, letting it drain into the bucket beneath. He didn’t rush. He didn’t want to. The metal pipe groaned as he tested the pressure, the familiar resistance grounding him. It was easy, this—manual labor. Straightforward. You tighten what’s loose. Replace what’s worn out. Drain what’s overflowing.

If only the rest of life were that obedient.

The photo frames caught his eye next.

They were perched on the shelf beside the kitchen door, slightly crooked from where you’d bumped them a hundred times, probably too tired to fix them. His knees ached slightly as he shifted for a better look.

The first was a wedding photo. Your wedding photo with his brother kissing your cheek. You were by his side, the most beautiful, your eyes squeezed shut, mid-laugh, a smear of cake icing on your chin.

Somehow, instead of jealousy, instead of resentment or guilt or the thousand other things he’d prepared himself to feel, what rose in him now was something fonder.

Before he could read more of the notes sticked to the fridge, you walked in, in softer clothes—an old cotton shirt that had seen too many laundry days and a pair of worn drawstring sweats that swallowed your ankles. Your hair was still damp at the ends from where the faucet had christened you earlier, but your skin was warm, your breath easier.

Your hands rubbed at your arms as if still chasing the chill away, but your eyes found him instantly. Crouched in front of the sink, sleeves rolled up, inked arms flexed in motion as he twisted the wrench one last time.

You watched the slow ripple of muscles beneath his skin, the way his jaw ticked in concentration, how his thumb brushed the valve like it mattered—like the faucet had personally wronged you and he was going to make it pay for its sins. There was something magnetic about the way he worked—focused, assured, steady like he belonged exactly here, doing exactly this.

“Is it… better?” you asked, voice soft, tentative, almost afraid to interrupt.

He didn’t turn, but you saw his shoulders relax at the sound of you. “Better than it was,” he murmured, tightening the last screw with a grunt. “Still leaking a little. I’m gonna seal the joint. Won’t be pretty, but it’ll hold.”

You nodded. And then you stepped forward without thinking.

“I can hold the light,” you offered. “Or the bucket?”

He blinked once. “You know I've got—”

Your shirt pooled at your wrists when you pushed up the sleeves. "I know."

He glanced up then, eyes catching on your legs first—his eyes always had a way of pausing before they moved—and then up to your face. A slow blink. A flicker of something unreadable behind his gaze. But it softened when you sank to your knees beside him, close enough for your thighs to brush.

He passed you the flashlight without a word, and you angled it as best you could while he unscrewed the makeshift clamp he’d used. Your shoulders brushed. His hand bumped your knee. You didn’t move.

Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed his gaze shift again—upward, this time. Toward the shelf by the kitchen door.

He was looking at the oldest photo. The one most guests skimmed over. Minho in the middle with his mouth wide open in laughter, arms slung around Jungkook and her both, pulling them close like they were parts of himself. Jungkook’s hair had been longer then, messier.

That photo had never made sense to others. Why he was in it. Why the three of you looked so stitched together. But you’d always known. Jungkook had been there. Not just in the periphery of your memories, but rooted in them. Always just close enough to feel like something vital.

He turned his head then, catching your gaze, that made the tips of his ears turn pink and averted his eyes back to the situation in his hands so quick, you assumed it was to hide the color before it got any more prominent. You suppressed a giggle. Cute.

You looked back at the photo, softer now. “That was the summer he dared us to eat all the ice cream in one sitting.”

Jungkook’s lips twitched. “You threw up. On my shoes.”

You grinned, head tipping back just a little. “That does sound like me.”

“Got it,” he said suddenly, wrench twisting one final time, the valve clicking into place. The pipe stilled. No more dripping.

Relieved and stupidly proud, you said. "You actually did it."

“I said I would." He confirmed.

"Just had to find the right valve. It’s mostly just pressure build-up now.”

You didn’t really understand what that meant, but you nodded anyway, watching his hands as they moved, shoulders finally sagging with something like satisfaction as he leaned back against the cabinet door and sank onto the kitchen floor fully, legs stretching out across the wet tile without care. His hands—damp, calloused, smudged faintly with sealant—fell to his thighs, fingers flexing once, then going still.

He looked… tired. In that content, bone-deep sort of way that follows after fixing something with your own hands. There was a smear of dust on his cheek, his shirt clinging to his frame in places from residual dampness. But his jaw was loose now, his brow no longer furrowed, and the sharp concern in his eyes had faded into something tamer.

You watched him for a beat longer than necessary. "I could make you coffee." You offered, gently.

His head turned slowly to look at you, blinking like he hadn’t heard right. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, already rising to your feet and brushing off the knees of your pants. Pretending it's not a excuse to have him longer.

for a second, he just processed, like the idea hadn’t occurred to him. And then his lips curved into a lopsided smile. “Okay. Yeah, I’d like that.” Pretending he's agreeing not because that he'd get to stay around you more.

You moved through the space like you’d done a thousand times before—reaching for the coffee tin from the cabinet, setting the kettle to boil again (this time with crossed fingers), and pulling two mismatched mugs from the drying rack.

You poured the dark roast into one mug and the steeped chamomile into your own, then carried both back toward the floor where he still sat, one knee bent, arm slung casually over it, eyes trailing the edge of your bookshelf like he was trying to memorize every title. He looked so at home, it hurt a little.

You sank down beside him, passing him the coffee, fingers brushing, fleeting but lingering just long enough. He murmured a quiet "thanks, baby" and took a sip, eyes falling shut for half a second.

Your though dipped to his wrist.

The thread. Still there.Faded, frayed, stretched just a little thinner than it once was; all crooked knots and uneven loops, a charm shaped like a crooked star dangling lopsided from the string.That same dumb knot you tied when you were kids, tangled so tight neither of you could undo it without scissors.

Your nose scrunched. “It’s going to fall off if you keep pretending it’s not ugly.”

Jungkook glanced down like he didn’t even know it was there. Like it had become part of him. He flexed his wrist, the fabric barely clinging to the bend. Then he said, almost immediately. "It's not ugly."

You gave him a look. Is it?

Jungkook took a slow sip of his coffee. “A little angel once told me to never take it off.”

You rolled your eyes. “That angel was, like, ten.”

He leaned back against the cabinet again, looking at you sidelong. “She knew what she was talking about.”

You didn’t say anything to that. Just looked—really looked—and saw every year layered across his face. The boy, the teenager, the man. The moments between. And how maybe you weren’t so different from him.

His eyes slid toward you again, a subtle flick of attention like the tug of a thread. “What’re you drinking?” he asked, nose twitching, playful.

You blinked. “Hmm?”

He nodded at your mug, brows pinched slightly in thought. “That’s not coffee. I smelled it when you handed it over. Doesn't seem like mint, either."

You raised a brow. “What, are you some kind of tea sommelier now?”

"Just curious, angel. Smells like flowers."

You opened your mouth to respond. You really did. The words were halfway to your tongue—about how it was a new chamomile blend, how your mother sent it to you from some little organic store that also sold hand-knitted socks and lavender bath salts—but before you could speak, Jungkook leaned in.

And kissed you.

It wasn’t urgent. It wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t even planned, you were sure. His hand didn’t even touch you. He didn’t brace your face or cradle your jaw like he had in other moments-those aching, desperate ones.

Your breath caught-stolen in the way it always had been with him. His mouth brushed yours-warm, careful, lips parted just enough. You didn’t move. Couldn’t. Your hand hovered somewhere between your mug and your lap, suspended like your pulse.

His mouth was doing all the grab and push.

He coaxed yours open, suckled at your bottom lip like he was trying to draw the flavor from it. Tenderly sucking at your bottom lip before he bit it, just barely, like he couldn’t help himself.

A sound escaped you, half-breath, half-surprise.

He pulled back just a fraction. And when your eyes fluttered open, he was already looking at you with that maddening calmness of his, like he hadn’t just unmade you with his mouth.

“Chamomile,” he said, deadpan.

"W-What?"

He didn’t look even the slightest bit ashamed while licking the taste from his lips. "With a little honey. Suits you."

You scramed for coherence. “You're ridiculous.”

“And you’re flushed.” He smiled into his mug. "So pretty when you're flushed, angel."

You scoffed into your own mug, taking a long sip of tea you no longer needed to explain.

Fridays are forever changed. Perhaps, they are now for laconically returns and falling over people who never stop feeling like native land.

210 notes · View notes

brenwritesss · 1 year ago

Text

𝐓𝐫𝐮 𝐅𝐫𝐮

⋆˚࿔Paige x reader ❀˖°

Summary: reader goes to Target to buy a bag of Tru Fru but ends up meeting Paige as they fight over the last bag.

Let me know if you want a part two!!

Taking the keys out of the ignition, you locked your car and walked out into the silent parking lot. With the store about to close in twenty minutes, there were not many people in the parking lot so this should have been an easy trip. For the past week, all that you have been seeing all over your social media was Tru Fru. A company that produced dried fruits covered in chocolate. Your roommate had bought a bag when the hype first started and she became obsessed, saying ‘it was the best snack to ever be invented’.

So here you were at Target, finally buying a bag. After walking into the store, you fiddled with your keyring as you walked down the aisles, heading to the snack area. Once in the snack aisle, you scanned the shelves, trying to find the bags until your eyes finally stumbled upon a bag of Tru Fru strawberries. The last bag of Tru Fru fruit in the entire aisle.

You smiled to yourself as you relished in the luck you had in getting the last bag in the store. You went to get the last bag, grabbing hold of it when to your surprise, another hand picked it up at the same time.

You instantly whipped your head to your left and a tall blonde with hazel eyes peered down at you. She pulled the bag towards her a bit. “I hope you don’t mind but I really need this bag.”

You gave her a skeptical look, not letting go. “So do I.”

“But you don’t understand how much I need this. I literally got the merch for this shit,” she said, making you look at her sweatshirt that had the Tru Fru logo on it.

You shrugged. “I don’t see how that has anything to do with me and this bag.”

She looked you up and down, and you couldn’t lie to yourself, it was hot when she did that. Noticing your UConn hoodie, she pointed at the letters. “Yo, you go to UConn?”

“Yeah.”

“So do I,” she said, almost shouting the fact. “You into basketball by any chance? I’ll get you a hoodie with my number on it if you let me get this bag.”

You laughed, “I don’t know who you are, let alone know that you play basketball. Why would I want a hoodie with your number on it?”

She pretended to look hurt. “Ouch, you know how to hurt someone’s feelings.” When you didn’t respond, she sighed. “Okay, uh I can give you cash for the bag.”

“You’re seriously gonna pay me to give you this bag?”

“Yes,” she said while giving you a look that made you know she wasn’t joking.

“I’m sorry but I’ve been trying to track these down forever since they’ve been sold out everywhere.” Your grip tightened on the bag.

Paige tilted her head, looking you up and down again and giving you a smile. It would have made you melt if you weren’t so determined to get this bag of Tru Fru. “You know, I’m surprised I haven’t seen you around campus before.”

“It’s a huge campus, it’s hard to notice one singular person.”

She licked her lips, nodding at you. “You’d be easy to notice.”

“Are you seriously flirting with me so that I’ll give it to you?” you asked her.

“Is it working?”

“No.”

“Fine.” She reached into her pocket and took out her phone. You looked at her, confused as to what she was doing. Then to answer your suspicions, she held her phone out to you. “I’ll let you keep this bag if you give me your number.”

So a pretty girl asks for your number and you get to keep the last Tru Fru bag? Sounds like a win-win situation to you. “Sounds good to me.”

You took her phone and typed in your number with one hand just in case she took the bag from you. Once you handed her phone back to her, she finally let go of the bag. “I’m Paige by the way.”

“Y/n.”

She put her hands in her pockets. “I hope you know I’m actually going to text you.”

“I hope so,” you said, leaving her in the aisle as you headed to the checkout.

Once you had purchased your bag of Tru Fru strawberries, you walked back to your car. The second you got inside, a text notification popped up on your phone from an unknown number.

You should come over so that I can see you again

And bring that bag I let you get

So she wasn’t lying when she said she’d text you. After reading those two texts, she sent another one but this time with an address. You texted back a thumbs up and started driving to the location she sent you. You had a feeling it was going to be a long night.

#paige bueckers x oc #paige bueckers #paige bueckers x reader #uconn #uconn wbb #trufru #uconn huskies

855 notes · View notes

elllisaaa · 1 year ago

Text

how seventeen would confess to you - hhu vers.

-> pairing : svt hhu × gn!reader

-> words count : 2.9k words

-> genre : svt members crushing on you, fluff

-> warnings : while make you giggle and kick your feet

-> sorry if I made any mistakes, english is not my first language.

-> reblogs and feedbacks are appreciated !

-> masterlist | svt masterlist

hhu vers. | vu vers. | pu vers.

CHOI SEUNGCHEOL - INTIMATE

cuddles, cuddles, cuddles !

once he tackled you on the couch or bed and you’re in his arms, you’re not getting up for at least an hour.

watching long shows together, and you’re forbidden from watching even one episode without him, or he’ll get so pouty.

big golden retriever energy, he’s always so smiley around you.

but also big on protecting you.

he’s the type to say “dress how you want, i can fight”, and he will definitely fight if needed.

always has an arm around you, making you feel safe in every situation

since both of you are friends since as far as you can remember, he’s like another member of your family.

i can literally picture your aunts asking you when you’re gonna marry him at every gathering lmao

with all of that, the line between friendly and romantic feelings is blurred, but cheol wished he had the courage to fully cross it.

however, everyone and their mothers knew about his big crush on you, and about yours on him.

his confession would be so domestic crying because i’m lonely.

It wasn’t uncommon for you to cross paths with Seungcheol late at night. Just like you, he often got thirsty and you always ended up staying in the kitchen until the early hours of morning, and being sleepy at the family gathering. And this time was not different. Well, it was, in fact, a bit different. You had been aboard for the past year and only got back to Korea a few weeks before, so both of you hadn’t really seen each other and you had a lot to catch up on about your lives.

“- And after that, this bitch didn’t even dare to look me in the eyes for the rest of the year ! Can you believe this ?

- I don’t like to judge people I don’t know, but she’s indeed a bitch.”

Both of you bursted out in laughter, and your heart felt warmer again. It was as if you were finally complete again. Being away from Seungcheol when he had been by your side for the majority of your life was the most difficult thing you ever had to do, and feeling him slip through your fingers as he started to respond less was horrible. He apologized so many times about how busy he was, and you knew it was not his fault, but still, you just wanted to be back home, back in his arms.

“- Yeah, she definitely is.”

You landed your head on his shoulder with a smile, and Seungcheol feared that you would hear how fast his heart was beating. He was happy for you when you announced to him that you had the opportunity to go aboard for your studies, and he was immensely proud of you. But at the same time, all he wanted to do was convince you to not go and keep you forever with him. But he was only your best friend, and he couldn’t ask you to give up on your dreams for him. But he wished he could be your boyfriend instead.

“- I have something to confess…”

You lifted your head from his shoulder, looking at him as you waited for his next words. Seungcheol eyes’ dived into yours, and he just knew. He knew that this was the right time, that the particular atmosphere surrounding the two of you would certainly never arise again. He had to do it now.

“- The day you left, I came to say goodbye at the airport, remember ?”

You nobbed. How could you not ? He had engulfed you in a big hug that made you want to stay, and left you with teary eyes as you got on your flight.

“- I never told you what I did after. I drove off to the park we always played at when we were kids, and I cried on the swings for maybe two hours because all I could think about was that you were not with me. And it felt so wrong.”

Your right hand found purchase on his cheek, forcing him to look down at you as he consciously avoided your eyes since he started to tell you his little story. But your soft smile was the only reassurance he needed.

“- It felt wrong being away from you too. I missed you so much Cheol…

- Me too…”

And just like that, you both leaned in at the same time, your lips meeting in between and suddenly, everything felt right again, as if it was where you were supposed to be - in each other arms.

“next time i’m squeezing myself in your luggage, i don’t want to spend another night without you in my arms.”

JEON WONWOO - SIMPLE

i don’t know how to explain it, but I’m sure you’ll get it when I say that this man is the definition of soft.

he’s so cozy, every one of his hugs feels like a warm cocoon (that’s why you always find an excuse to get a hug).

very good at giving advice, and a good listener, he’s always there when you need a shoulder to cry on.

you were friends with the other members at first, but slowly, you started to grow closer when he discovered how sweet and lovely you were.

the more he talked with you, the more he found himself hooked.

literally has heart eyes for you (everyone and their mothers know about his crush on you) and would drop everything if you need him.

of course, he’ll be more than happy if you agreed to play video games with him, it doesn’t matter if you’re good at it or not

it’s even better if you never played, he’ll have an excuse to make you sit on his lap while he teaches you how to use the controller.

but in the end, he’s a simple guy, and he doesn’t see the point of hiding his crush for too long, but he also wants his confession to be meaningful.

The boys had organized a big party for your birthday this year, and surprisingly, they succeeded at keeping it a secret until tonight. And the past months spent trying to perfect every little detail was worth it when they saw the big smile on your face and your teary eyes when you recognized your friends and family as you walked through the room.

And even if Wonwoo couldn’t be more happy than seeing you wander around, laughing and smiling non-stop, he felt a weight on his heart. He wanted to steal you away from all these people, have you all for himself and finally tell you how he felt about you, finally tell you how glad he was to have you in his life. But he couldn’t, and he would never do that. He was just waiting patiently for your eyes to meet in the crowd, and for you to smile brightly at him. Every time you did that, his heart beat faster.

“- Finally ! I’m so happy that everyone came, but I’m exhausted !

- I can imagine, you’ve been running around the whole night.”

You sighed dramatically as you seated yourself on the couch next to Wonwoo, resting your head on his shoulder. Like a habit, he put his arms around you, bringing you closer to him, just because you were so comfortable around each other that everyone else thought you were already dating.

“- It’s the best surprise of my life. You guys are my favorites. Thank you for doing this for me.

- You deserved it, that and all the presents we prepared for you.”

You lifted your head from his shoulder, looking at him with a sparkle of curiosity in your eyes.

“- And what’s yours Wonwoo ?”

He had planned to do it later, when everyone would have left, when he’ll have a moment alone with you. But if this wasn’t a sign that he had to do it now, he didn’t know what it was.

“- It’s not something material. It’s more… Spiritual I’ll say.

- It’s intriguing, tell me what it is.

- My heart. I’m offering you my heart, because you already have it, you did for a long time now, and I wanted to let you know, just in case you were feeling the same about me.”

Wonwoo knew how emotional you could get, but he didn’t expect you to cry from his confession. Still, he wiped your tears away, waiting for you to calm down with a soft smile on his face.

“- I feel the same, I’ve been feeling the same for so long. You have my heart too.”

“I’ll take care of it, I promise. I’ll always protect you.”

KIM MINGYU - JOYFUL

100% golden retriever energy

you would often tease him along with the members (because we all know that seventeen ultimate goal is to make fun of mingyu)

partner privilege : would not get as pouty as with his members, all it takes is a smile from you and you’re forgiven.

however, when you tease him about how being so muscular but so afraid of everything is a shame, he’ll be like a child throwing a tantrum.

pouting until you compliment him (and cannot stop blushing once you do, he’s so cute someone help me).

tries to impress you all the time by flexing his muscles, showing how strong he is.

he’s so obvious please, this boy cannot hide his love for you.

follows you everywhere like a lost puppy, just in case you need him (he’s adorable).

he feels so comfortable around you because beyond all the teasing, you’re very understanding and kind.

you’re always here to remind him how amazing he is every time he doubts himself.

and because he feels so comfortable around you, his confession would slip like it was the most natural thing ever.

Mingyu always had a tendency to show off his skills whenever you were in the same room as him. Yes, he felt an incredible ego boost when you complimented him about his muscles, but what he took real pride in was how much he was able to make you laugh. He always feared that his jokes were lame, or just not your type of humor, but every time he cracked one, you bursted into giggles. And by the way you were beaming, there was no way that you were faking it.

And he always managed to make you laugh in all types of situations, chuckling and resisting the urge of kicking his feet like a teenager everytime you hitted his shoulder playfully as you tried to contain your own giggles. Mingyu was addicted to the way your eyes were glowing with joy everytime you just smiled. However, he discovered that the easiest way to get you to laugh was to tell you all the stupid things his members did. Like now, as you were crying from how funny you found the story of Seungkwan volley ball.

“- He really only discovered it when he saw that video ?

- Yeah, really ! You should’ve seen the betrayal in his eyes, it was priceless !”

And you were laughing again, your head thrown back, tears almost spilling out of your eyes. But Mingyu wasn’t laughing anymore, too lost in his contemplation, because you were literally a work of art to him. Every single detail about you was perfect, the more he discovered, the more he wanted to be yours.

“- Your smile is so beautiful, gosh… I love you so much…”

The melody of your giggles died as soon as you registered the meaning of his words. Silence enveloped the both of you as you stared at him as if you were trying to enter his mind and find all the answers to your questions. And Mingyu was forcing himself to keep his mouth shut, and not embarrass himself further, already cursing himself in his head for being so careless.

“- Wha- What did you say ?”

Mingyu was too focused on his overthinking to notice the little grin spreading on your lips. Of course, you already knew that he had a crush on you. Of course, you had a crush on him too because who doesn’t ? And of course, it was very cute to watch him stumble over his words with red cheeks.

“- I-I said that you have a beautiful smile…

- And after that ?

- Don’t want to tell you.”

You giggled as you leaned in to peck his warm cheeks, restraining yourself from going in for his pouty lips too.

“- Well, just know that I love you so much too Gyu.”

“see, you heard it perfectly ! but i’ll tell you a hundred times if you want me to.”

CHWE HANSOL - BRIGHT

he’s so random, like one minute he could joke along with you and the other he’s asking you the most existential question possible, fully serious about it.

like we say vernon is just vernoning in the most vernon way possible.

he's very chill about pretty much everything so it's really soothing to be around him.

he's your go-to person when you want to isolate yourself from the rest of the world because you could spend evenings just watching tv and not saying a word to each other

there's also times where both of you end up talking about your lives until the early hours of the morning.

your relationship feels like it's all natural, there has never been an awkward state, only comfort.

it's like hansol had known you for years because he felt so at ease every time you were with him.

you made him feel like he was special and normal at the same time, and even if he doesn't show it often, he really appreciates it.

you two liked to stay inside so it was rare for you to go out somewhere, but it was always unexpected and when it happened.

hansol knew that you liked to be surprised, and often showed up on his days off to take you somewhere without telling you.

that's why you weren't shocked when he picked you up at 5 in the morning, on a random Sunday.

“- Can I at least choose the music ?

- Go on.”

Hansol handed you his phone which was connected to the speakers of his car, letting you put on whatever song you wanted. He owed you this with how early he forced you to get out of bed on one of your days off. But he really wanted to take you to this spot he loved. He played it off as one of his random wishes, but he planned this in his mind for a long time, not all the details, but he knew he wanted to bring you there to tell you how he felt.

He watched with a small smile on his lips as you opened the window, one of your favorite songs playing as you let the wind hit your face and make your hair fly all over your face. Hansol quickly focused on the road again, seeing that he was near your destination, he asked you to close your eyes.

“- Are we there ?

- Almost.”

The rest of the way was quiet, a comfortable silence settling between the two of you. When you finally felt that Hansol had stopped the car, you heard him go out of the driver seat to get to your side and help you get out too, ordering you to keep your eyes closed. He pushed you to take some steps forward before he finally authorized you to see what was in front of you.

“- You took me to the ocean ?”

You didn’t even turn around to look at him, too entranced by the sight in front of you. And all Hansol could do was smile when he saw how parkly your eyes were.

“- I guess that I wanted you to see the sunset.”

You were rather speechless as Hansol got a blanket out of his car, leading you to the beach for you two to watch the sunrise on the horizon. He contemplated you as you ran around, touching the water to see if it was cold or not before finally sitting down beside him, your head finding his place on his shoulder, and his arms around yours.

“- Thank you for bringing me there… It’s beautiful…

- I wanted to make it special.”

Before you could even ask him what he was talking about, Hansol leaned in, his eyes fixed on your lips, and yours on his. Basking in the warm light of the sunset, he kissed you for the first time but certainly not the last, a smile spreading on his face as he rested his forehead against yours.

“i think i could get used to this.”

-> i don't allow any copies, reposts or translations of my works.

svt taglist (fill in this to be added) :

@lil-kpopstan @hann1bee @iraisswiftie

1K notes · View notes