“If I could turn back the time and make things different from the way it is now, would you be still here with me? Would it change everything?”
✧pairing: fuckboy!jungkook x reader ✧genre: angst + touch of smut ✧summary: the first time you had a conversation with jeon jungkook you were 15. the first time you heard him calling you by your name you were 16. the first time you realize you were in love with him you were 17. the first time you saw him crying you were 18 - because he wasn’t the golden boy, never been. indeed, he was in pain. ✧warnings: abusing relationship, alcohol, depression, violence, quick changes in behavior, cursing, blood, cheating, smoking, lots of angst (for the whole series) just dark themes ✧keep in mind: english is not my first language. I can, and I’ll make mistakes, but I’m trying my best! Feel free to correct me. ✧wordcount: 8.2k
Part 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 - Playlist: ♫highly recommended while reading.
I. The Analepsis;
You met Jeon Jungkook when you were 15.
He was the boy with the biggest amount of friends in high school. He was the boy who spent his entire lunch break on the basketball field. He was the boy who you would always glance at when he was near his locker, looking like an angel sent from above whilst doing nothing in particular. He was the boy that never went to detention because he was ‘the golden one’. He was the boy with a good voice, a boy that always sang to girls to get him out of trouble – sometimes even to teachers.
He was the boy with the loudest laugh, the prettiest one. He was the boy that made you silently laugh in your seat when he did something silly, forced you to laugh quietly because you never wanted him to see you like that. He was the boy all of the girls wanted, though he ended up with no one other than his one night stands. He was the boy that never done relationships, and you always thought that that was because he thought nobody was good enough for him - but the worst part of it was that you thought that too.
But he was also the boy who you never saw him cry, until that night. The milestone of your life.
The first time you saw Jeon Jungkook cry, you were 18.
It made you realize that you never knew him in the first place. You had never imagined the brown haired boy crying like a five-year-old in your arms. Never in your life had you imagined that the boy with the deep brown eyes - the eyes you realized had to bear everything once you saw them before they burst into tears.
It happened the night high school ended.
You had to attend the ceremony, not that you wanted to, but your parents insisted. They said that it was too important for your future to miss and that if you didn’t attend you’d be sorry. Sorry by the time you grew up into that beautiful and strong woman with a stable job that missed her high school years. You laughed it off. The only thing you were going to miss about this filthy place was, sadly, him.
Him - of all the people.
Him - without him being aware of your feelings for all of these years.
“Nesta! Nesta!” Cassian came running into the house in a full blown panic. He could feel Nesta’s heart racing, he could feel her panicking. He had left the camps, in the middle of sparring, because he had to make sure she was okay.
“Nesta!” He called for her over and over again, his own heart racing. His hands shook as he searched for her. He was sure she was here, the bond had led him to this very place. But their bedroom was empty, so was the living room.
When he found her the tightness in his chest loosened as he stepped out into the backyard. She was facing away from him. Her scent wrapped around him, calming his panic. He could still feel hers, but it was nothing compared to what his had been. He walked up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her close.
“Cass,” tears were on her cheeks as he pressed soft kisses against her neck, “I didn’t hear you come in. You’re early.”
He kissed the back of her neck, making her shiver. Cassian smiled, “I felt your panic. I felt you, I didn’t think I just followed the bond.”
Nesta went stiff in his arms, “the bond.”
Cassian then realized where her fears had come from, why she had been panicking. Because she felt the bond snap into place. She felt him, she felt everything the way he had felt her for months. He didn’t know why it had happened now, when they had been doing everything exactly the same as before. But Cassian had never been happier. Or more terrified in his life.
Cassian ran the tips of his fingers over her arms. Waiting a full minute before speaking. He knew she would push him away, keep him at a distance like she had before. She never wanted the mating bond, she told him that the day she was remade and he woke up to broken wings. But somehow through the bluster and bullshit of their life, they had found each other.
You looked at Bambam hesitantly, a gleam of mischief forming in his eye as he leaned in close to you.
“You know you want to, (Y/N),” He said, extending his out to you slowly, “Don’t you want to know how you could possibly be destined to be with two people?”
He was right; you were insanely curious as to how you could somehow be destined to be with more than one person. You had just found out almost everything you needed to know about being a vampire and what it entails, and now you wish to find out the logistics of your other so-called ‘destiny’.
You stood up slowly, watching him as he did the same to you. “Are you sure you can handle going outside? And we won’t get into any trouble?”
“I promise,” Bambam said, holding his right hand up, “I can handle the sun.”
Jacob being raised in the modern world has more information when it comes to sex, porn, magazines, tv shows, even movies. Things that show him how sex is done even in its unrealistic ways.
Jacob is really passionate in bed, but passion can sometimes lead to Jacob losing it and becoming rough, at first in the relationship he was scared of hurting you, so he would always take it slow but as soon as you talked to him about some fantasies he doesn’t hold back.
Jacob loves to just sit and talk while in the shower with you, he’ll hold you and whisper sweet nothings while tracing the water droplets down your skin.
Jacob love’s your lingerie especially since you snuck his favorite outfit with you to the loop, hiding it in your dresser to tease him the first night there. Let’s just say, Emma, helped out with accessories and the rest of the outfit.
There were times back in Florida where he couldn’t even make it to his room, with his parent’s out of the house he would take right there on the stairs. He’s impatient that’s all I have to say.
Jacob loves you in fishnets, whether you paired them with Jeans, a skirt, or just wore them and nothing else. He loves the texture of the rough fabric and silkiness of the skin. You have so many pairs that it doesn’t matter if he rips a few.
If you spend the night in his room, you usually wake up first and horny. So carefully crawl over and straddling him, lightly rocking your hips against him, usually, he wakes up his hands already on your hips, and morning sex with Jacob is amazing.
you are five, and he is six, and he holds his hand out to you as you lay on the ground, beaten and bloody. he walks you home, mile-wide grin never faltering. his name is James Buchannan Barnes, and his friends call him Bucky. he tells you to call him that, and the smile sits heavy on your lips long after he leaves.
you are seven, and he is eight, when you start to draw, more than the little doodles on school paper. it does not take long for you to learn how the curve of his eyelashes and the brilliant blue of his eyes transfer to greyscale on paper.
you are nine, and he is ten, when he pulls the cushions off his ma’s couch, and you wrap up in blankets. ‘you’re my best friend, Steve, you know that, right?’ his eyes are crystal clear and honest, and you feel your heart swell. you are his best friend, he is your everything.
you are twelve, and he is thirteen when he starts to grow out of pre-pubescence. his jaw sharpens, his shoulders broaden, and his eyes glow just as brightly as before. the girls take notice, so do you. you don’t know why it hurts.
you are fourteen, and he is fifteen when you have to learn to draw him again. you don’t mind, he is so easy for you to draw. his body has grown taller, stronger, and it clashes harshly with your own tiny form. he smiles every time he catches you doing it, ruffles your hair and tells you how good you are. his praise feels like sunshine.
you are sixteen and he is seventeen when he drags you out of an alley, two guys laying out cold on the ground behind you. ‘told ya, Stevie, just gotta wait for me, and I’ve got you, never gonna leave you alone.’ you want to say you don’t need him, but you know that’s not true. he will never leave you. never. not ever.
you are eighteen, and he is nineteen the first time he tries to get you a date. the girl takes one look at your tiny body and turns away. he says he doesn’t want to talk to them if they don’t like you. the two of you sit on the couch and forget about dancing, and you draw the tilt of his head as the whiskey takes effect. he tells you the girls are crazy, that there’s so many wonderful things about you.
you are twenty-two, and he is twenty-three when your ma dies, and he hands you a key. the apartment is small, but it is enough, it is home. his eyes are soft and you drink it in, wherever he is has always been home.
you are twenty-three, and he is twenty-four when Japan drops the bomb on pearl harbour. ‘I’m with you till the end of the line’ he says the night before he ships off to basic. you thought he would never leave you, and a part of your heart goes to war with him. you will never get it back.
you are twenty-five, and he is twenty-six when you drag him out of austria, and you’re a foot taller and a hundred pounds heavier, and you can breathe. the girl with the lovely chocolate eyes takes your attention away from him. the spark in his eyes has dimmed in the time you have spent apart. you are too swept away by her to notice.
you are twenty-six, and he is twenty seven when he f a l l s and you have never felt pain like this before. the girl with the lovely chocolate eyes does not fix the hole in your heart. he promised he would never leave but death doesn’t care about promises.
you are twenty-six, and he is n o t h i n g when you nose dive into the ocean, the ice claims your body and the breath leaves your lungs and your last thought is of him.
you are ninety-four when they pull you from the ice and you fight aliens a hundred years in the future. they say we won the war, they do not say what we l o s t.
you are ninety-six when the mask falls from his face and everything you have ever known fades to grey. the spark in his eyes that was there when you met him is gone, and another piece of your heart shatters.
you are ninety-six, and he, he is ninety-seven. something deep inside you stirs.
you are ninety-six, and he is ninety-seven when ‘who the hell is Bucky?’ breaks your fragile heart. you do not know how to fix it.
you are ninety-six, and he is ninety-seven and you are ready to die, when you repeat back to him 'I’m with you till the end of the line’. when you wake he is gone again. he said he would never leave.
you are ninety-six, and he is ninety-seven when everyone questions why you go after him. the girl with the red hair does not. you wonder if, somehow, she knows.
you are ninety-seven, and he is ninety-eight when you break down crying. the man with the dark skin lets you sob on his shoulder. 'was Bucky something more to you before the war? were you..’ the sadness that fills your heart as you respond does not go unnoticed. 'no’.
you are ninety-seven, and he is ninety-eight when you realize you have been in love with him since you were five years old. the dark-skinned man’s question is still answered the same way. n o
you are ninety-seven, and he is ninety-nine when you hear the word. the girl with the red hair and the dark skinned man’s eyes soften.
you are five
you are seven
you are nine
you are twelve
you are fourteen
you are sixteen
you are eighteen
you are twenty-two
you are twenty-three
you are twenty-five
you are twenty-six
you are ninety-four
you are ninety-five
you are ninety-six
you are ninety-seven and he is ninety-nine.
you are ninety-seven, and he is your soulmate.
you are ninety-seven, and he is ninety-nine, and you wonder how it took you the better part of a century to figure out the hollow ache in your chest whenever he was gone was more than platonic
you are ninety-seven, and he is ninety-nine when you get him back. you are so scared, he has left you three times before, and your heart cannot take a fourth
you are ninety-eight, and he is ninety-nine and you think back to when you were five years old and an angel pulled you off the gravel on the playground. you tell him the story and he smiles. ‘I’ll always be there for you Stevie, I promised, didn’t I?’ this time, he stays.
the heartbreak (and fixing) of steven grant rogers
On that note, how about US/UF Papyrus cuddles headcanons?
Lovely c: thank you for sending in an ask!
Fell is SUPER cuddly. Like, seriously. Cuddle this skeleton like your life depended on it. But he never admits that he loves it, and he sure as hell won’t initiate it until he feels the two of you are close enough. He’s a bit interesting to cuddle with since his bones are spikier than usual, but certain positions work out wonderfully. It’ll take him a minute to warm up, but after a while, you’ll try to get up and he won’t let you. He’ll wrap his arms around you and never let you go. Cuddling is one of the only ways to pull out his lovey, fluffy side, so if you wanna make him weak af, just snuggle into him and you’ll make him go crazy.
Initiating a cuddle is super easy, because as long as it involves you being close to him, he’ll immediately give in. His poofy sweatshirt makes this really easy, and he’d praise you and make you feel so loved that you’ll become addicted to it. Most of the time, cuddle sessions will turn into something a little more, but it’s totally up to you. When you’re done cuddling, he’ll let you go and do what you need to do. He respects all of your desires and decisions, so when you think it’s enough, then it really must be. He’s also very cuddly in bed, and will hug you all the time, since he loves the feeling of your skin. You usually won’t have to approach him first, since the second he sees you coming to sit down next to him, his arms are already out for you, his soft smile and relaxed position making you want to cuddle with him even more.
luke on vocal rest would be the biggest pain in the ass because he would refuse to stay seated on the couch in the tour bus and he would refuse to take the little cups of sour tasting cough syrup you handed to him and he would refuse to drink the hot tea you made specially for him. the only thing he’d abide by would be the strict no talking rule, finding joy in sending you deformed hearts from his ring clad fingers and cheekily grinning at you as his glass of water grows dry because (I’m not allowed to get up, remember?). but it’s only after you’ve retired to the shower (“can I leave my sick baby alone for a few minutes?”) and return moments later sporting leggings and one of his giant tshirts that he’s audibly gasping, quickly muffling the noise with the back of his wrist as he reaches in your general direction, gathering his fingers in the hem of the shirt as he draws you into his chest, looping his arms around your torso and tucking his cheek against the top of your damp hair as he grumbles out in a gravely, deep voice, “you’re so beautiful, did you know that? the prettiest in the whole world.” to which you’re smacking his chest and scolding, “shh, you’re not supposed to talk.” despite the blotchy fire lighting your cheeks but he’s just shaking his head and flushing his lips against your forehead as he insists fiercely into your skin, “can’t help it. love you a lot.”
Prompt: Soulmate AU: Last words spoken to the other tattoo. One person gets really hurt and calls the other and says those words.
Your evil! how dare you.
Here you go:
Title: Last Words
Mon-El was currently in the middle of his shift at the alien
bar that he’d recently begun bartending at as a job. It hadn’t taken him too
long to realise that bartending was the perfect non-violent job for him. All he had to do
was resist the urge to drink all the liquor and charm all the paying customers
into giving up their money and buying the most expensive drinks. He also liked
to flirt his way into getting tips off both male and female aliens alike. His phone that Kara had purchased for him and
shown him how to use had begun buzzing and he answered it, surprised to hear
her voice on the other side of the line.
“It’s good to hear y-y-your voice”. Something was wrong,
Mon-El realised immediately. Her voice was shaky and breathless. It sounded
like she was struggling to breathe. “I needed to talk to you o-o-one last
“What are you talking about?!” he frowned. What did she mean
one last time? She’d see him tomorrow and they’d speak then too. It wasn’t like
this was the last conversation that they’d ever have. Was she on some alien
drugs or something? “Kara, what the hell is going on?”
“I d-don’t think I’m going to make it”, she told him and his
face went white. He dropped the glass he had been holding in his free hand and
it smashed against the floor. He was oblivious to the glass breaking, the rest of the world disappearing at Kara’s words.
“Where are you?” he demanded. He was not about to let her die
on him. He’d lost too many people and he wasn’t going to lose the woman that he
loved – never mind that he’d only just realised that this was what that feeling
was that he had around her – love. “Kara, tell me where you are”.
“Hold on, I’m coming to you”.
Ignoring the other bartender and bar manager’s cries of protest,
he sped out of the bar and headed to the DEO. They immediately allowed him
through to her. A tearful Alex and a sombre J’onn were standing at her bedside.
“Kara!” she immediately looked up at him although she didn’t have the strength
to sit up upon his entrance. Her face was pale and sweaty, her eyes red rimmed
and full of water – he guessed from her tears – and she was shaking. He looked
at her stomach to see a large green glowing knife protruding from it along with
horrific amounts of blood. “Kara, how did this happen?”
“CADMUS got her”, Alex responded. “No amount of yellow sunlight
is healing her”.
“Then remove the knife!” he yelled.
“The knife is the only thing keeping the blood in currently. We can’t remove it without
risking killing her faster”, J’onn answered him calmly though his eyes were
shining with his own emotion over Kara’s state.
“Do something! She’s going to die if you don’t”, Mon-El
demanded, completely frustrated by the lack of action at the DEO’s part.
“Mon-El…” Alex looked at him sadly. “We can’t do anything. We
tried to put her under the yellow sunlight but it is having no effect on her.
There is nothing else to be done by this point”.
Mon-EL let out a roar of anger and kicked the wall, bursting
a hole into it.
“Mon-El come here please”, Kara requested quietly. “I want
you to know…I need you to know…”
Distraught he knelt down at her bedside next to her face,
silently pleading with her to fight and to stay with him. “You can tell me
later. You’re going to be fine, Kara”.
“I’m not”, she smiled at him brokenly. “I’m dying, Mon-El.
And I need you to know before I die…” she then spoke in Kryptonian, something
that Alex and J’onn could not translate but Mon-El understood since their
languages were very similar like British humans and American humans were similar
but different. “I love you. You’re a true
hero, Mon-El and I will be proud to call my soul-mate so I want you to have the
last words of my dying breath”.
do this. Don’t die. I can’t do this hero thing without you” he begged,
his eyes full of tears as he knew that she had just said his soul mate words, the words that had been etched into the skin on his hip since birth. “I love you too”.
At his response she stroked her wrist relevantly and smiled
softly at him before her eyes slowly closed and her chest stopped moving.
I’m not quite sure what to do with myself in the days between now and when you plan on making me yours. I’ve waited this long, I shouldn’t at all be discouraged by waiting any longer. But truth be told, the 151 days since you first kissed me have begged the same question over and over.
I’m unsure whether your promise of ‘us’ is as empty as my bed without you or whether its as truthful as my words were the first time I muttered an unreturned ‘I love you’.
It’s been weeks since I let my lips trace your skin, and my love, they’re wanting your touch more than I think I’m strong enough to hold back on.
You know better than I, that we don’t have much time to spare. We have just moments left in this finite life of ours, and the hands of the watch on the wrist you seem to have forgotten about holding, won’t tick any slower.
“I’ve loved you since the first time I saw you. I think I was twelve. It took me three years to pluck up the courage to speak to you. And I was so scared about the way I felt, you know, loving a girl, So I learned how to become a sarcastic bitch to kind of feel normal. I screwed guys to make it go away, but it didn’t work. When we got together it scared the shit out of me. Because you were the one person who could ruin my life. I pushed you away. I made you think things were your fault. But really I was just terrified of pain. I screwed that girl, Sophia, to kind of spite you for having that hold on me, and I’m a total fucking coward because I got these, these tickets to Goa for us three months ago, But I, I couldn’t stand… I didn’t want to be a slave to the way I feel about you, can you understand? You were trying to punish me back and it’s horrible. It’s so horrible, because really… I’d die for you. I love you. I love you so much, and it’s killing me.”