#and now well. i have a wc blog now bc i kept posting out of context takes about it on main and making my mutuals go ''what the fuck''

[yuridovewing]

Gotta say it's really jarring to see how big WoF has gotten. I was there when the fandom was really small and there were only like 3 youtube channels that had the characters. i had a canon url. it was easy. and then i look at the series now and its got a comic series and theres apparently a netflix adaptation. and my college store has them too apparently??? like they thought wof deserved to go along with common YA series like the hunger games?? what on earth happened how is this already feeling larger than warrior cats. why is wc only just now getting a comic adaptation of the original story sdlkfjskdlf

[itsbeeble]

I saw your post about having Bang Chan brain rot and honestly, same. He has filled every waking thought I've had for the last year and I'm big mad over it.

So my fic rec is a little angsty/suggestive with him being as obsessed with y/n as we all are with him. Like, he's angry that he can't focus on work because he's too busy thinking about them but can't have them for whatever reason. All the features he possesses that we love that he can't see in himself are exactly what draws him to y/n. (I feel like crushing on Chan is an exercise in learning to love yourself, and that's a lesson he needs to learn as well).

WHY WOULD YOU SAY THIS TO ME I LITERALLY FELL TO THE FLOOR WHEN I FIRST SAW IT (that first statement is so real actually)

OBSESSIVE

Summary: Chan has always been obsessed with you, but he's been too afraid to act on it until now.

Genre: Angst, fluff

Pairing: bestfriend!Bang Chan x (implied)fem!reader

Warnings: a little angsty but mostly fluff, hurt/comfort, suggestive, some uhhh sexual themes but there's no actual smut or anything, small make out scene teehee, swearing, insecurities briefly mentioned, I think that's it

WC: 2462

18+ MDNI, AGELESS BLOGS WILL BE BLOCKED

A/N: guys look it didn't take me 10 years to post! Also i'm gonna add to my masterlist a "Brainrot" section bc i'm not officially gonna write for certain groups but fuck do i get brainrot

~

Chan is restless in his studio, staring at the walls in front of him unable to focus. He can’t get his brain to work, to think, to do something. 

It’s your fault. He knows it’s your fault, but he can’t figure out why. Had you said something to him? Had you done something? 

No. The answer is no, you hadn’t done anything to him. At least not technically. 

In fact, it’s more him that's the problem.

It’s almost unhealthy the way he’s obsessed with you. Unhealthy and almost annoying considering that you hardly ever give him the light of day. 

Chan adores you. Adores the way you don’t care about what anyone else thinks of you, the way you laugh too loudly, the way your nose crinkles when you smile, and the way you can hold conversations so easily. He adores the way you never seem to care about looking put together, dressing in whatever you find comfortable that day, and somehow still looking beautiful. 

He doesn’t think he’s ever felt this way about anyone before. He hates the swirling in his stomach, the way his heart beats faster, and the way he can always tell when you’re close to him whether you want him to know or not. Chan can always tell from the smell of your perfume, that sweet, subtle scent you’ve worn since the day you met him in your days as trainees. 

These emotions…he shouldn’t be feeling them. Not about you, his best friend. His confidant. The one person he can trust to always be there for him, for everything. He’s tried so hard to will these emotions away, to force himself to like other people. He’s tried hookups, blind dates, dating apps. He’s tried imagining it was his grandmother instead of you whenever his thoughts dive into dangerous territory. 

And no, the grandmother thoughts didn’t work. His thoughts kept returning to you, how you would look under him. How you would look with your hair splayed out, your hand cupping his cheeks, and your lips sending him the sweet smile that you seem to reserve for him.

Fuck, he’s doing it again.

Chan takes a deep breath, sipping at the day-old water and grimacing at the stale taste in his mouth. His computer screen is still blank, the screen off from the time he’s spent staring into space and thinking of you. 

A knock on the door and then you’re slipping in quietly with a plastic go-cup filled with iced coffee. 

“Hey.”

Your greeting is simple, but you flash that smile and Chan’s heart starts doing flips. He hates it. He hates that you make him feel this way, hates that he gets nervous whenever you’re around. 

He feels you at his side, your arm on the back of his chair, fingertips brushing against his shoulder and sending jolts of electricity down his spine. He turns his head, angling his neck to look up at you. 

You with your calm eyes, with your gentle brushes against his skin, and the way you somehow soothe the storm that you caused inside of him. 

The cup in your hand is angled toward him, and he shakes his head.

“You shouldn’t be drinking that, you know,” it’s almost instinctive how he scolds you, a frown on his face when you just roll your eyes and pull the cup away from him. “Especially right now. You should be asleep, Y/N.” 

“So should you,” you hum, rolling your shoulders back and wincing when something cracks. 

“I’m working.” He nods his head at the computer, and you raise an eyebrow at the black screen.

“I can see that. Working very hard, just like you always are.”

Your hand raises to his head, ruffling the soft strands of hair. Chan clicks his tongue and pulls away from you. Your hand drops down to your side, and your small drops slightly. Barely noticeable, but enough for Chan to feel a pang in his chest. He rolls his chair back slightly, spinning it to face you. You pull a chair up, sitting directly across from him, and delicately place your coffee in an empty space on his crowded desk. 

Chan feels your knees brush against his, and heat scorches his body again. Why do you do this to him? Is it on purpose? Do you know he loves you more than a best friend should?

“Are you okay, Channie?” You lean toward him, the open part of your button-down shirt dipping to expose more skin. You would think he’s never been around a woman before.

He clears his throat, tries to look at you, and then clears his throat again. You’re biting at your lip now your eyebrows furrowed together in thought. 

He leans away from you when you lean toward him. Your knees are between his thighs now, unbeknownst to you but he is all too aware of it. You rise from your chair, coming closer to him and standing between his legs. One of his hands twitches, fighting to raise just a little bit to touch the side of your leg. 

“You seem a little feverish,” your hand is cold against his skin, and he almost chokes on the air he’d been struggling to inhale without the sweet scent of you overpowering his lungs and making him do unthinkable things. Your lips are twisted into a pout, your hand moving to his forehead and then his cheek. 

It takes Chan a moment to realize that he’s grabbed your wrist. 

It takes another moment for him to realize that his lips are against the back of your hand. 

Another moment and you haven’t pushed him away. Is it shock? Are you too disgusted to do anything? Fuck, why did he have to do that?

“Y/N—” he’s stumbling over his words, trying to grasp any thought that runs through his brain. An apology, hopefully. “I’m so— I didn’t mean—” 

Your lips are on his before he can say another word. It was a quick, fleeting kiss. Heat of the moment, maybe. 

You pull back, just far enough to look him in the eyes. 

Chan opens his mouth, ready to speak again.

The door slams shut. The space you stood in is empty. Chan’s heart sinks to his stomach, his skin still warm where you touched him.

“Fuck”

~

It’s three days before Chan hears from or sees you. Three days of absolute radio silence. No one forcing him to stop working, to look away from the screen and lay on the couch for a while. No wild laughter, random coffee dates. Nothing, and he knows why.

He knows you’ve been avoiding him. It’s not that difficult to figure it out. Whatever happened that night…it scared both of you. What frustrates him isn’t the subtle rejection. No, he could never be mad at you for that. He loves you too much to be angry about that. 

No, he’s mad about the fact that you’re running from this. You who regularly gets into heated arguments with the staff when they’re working him and the other members too hard. You who always accepts when you’re in the wrong, actively seeking a solution. You who has never had problems with communicating your emotions. He’s angry that the one time he needs you to communicate with him, you disappear. Now, after three days of you avoiding him, he isn’t quite sure he wants to see you anymore. He wouldn’t have minded if you told him you hated him for what happened.

Radio silence is…quite possibly the last thing he expected.

A knock on his door jolts him out of his thoughts. Three raps, then two, and the door opens. He knows it’s you by the shuffling of your feet against the ground and the sound of ice against plastic. You come to stand near him. Not next to him, no, it’s like you can sense the anger in him.

Or you can hear the angry typing. 

“What are you working on?” Your voice is quiet, so quiet that he almost doesn’t catch it. 

He doesn’t respond, at least not at first. The typing doesn’t slow, and he hears a small exhale from you. 

“Chan?” Your hand comes to rest on his shoulder and the typing stops. You drop your hand to your side, biting your tongue and forcing the tears back. “Channie, can you please talk to me?” He turns to look at you, trying to hold back all of the emotions he’s been feeling these past three days. 

“About what?” He plays dumb. Maybe if he acts like nothing happened, you’ll just drop it and you can start avoiding each other and he can move on from you. 

“About…about what happened.” Your voice shakes, and he almost feels bad. 

Scratch that, he does feel bad. 

“I don’t think there’s much to talk about.” Chan dismisses, “You made it clear how you feel and that’s fine. We can forget about it.” He avoids your gaze now, but he hears a sniffle coming from you. Hears a sob that you made a poor attempt at concealing. He looks at you again, and your hand is over your mouth while you try to calm yourself. He bites the side of his tongue, closing his eyes and exhaling heavily. 

“Come here,” he raises his hand and lazily beckons you over to him. You don’t move at first, still focused on calming yourself. “Y/N, come here.” 

Your steps are slow, almost nervous about approaching him, and suddenly all the anger is washed away from Chan’s body. All he can think about is the fact that he’s made you cry, made you upset, and he wants to fix it. 

“Why are you crying, pretty?” You’re standing in front of him, all too similarly to three days ago. Your cup has been placed to the side again, next to his keyboard, and your hands are in his. 

“I feel like…” your voice is thick with emotion, tears rolling down your cheeks that Chan wants nothing more than to kiss away. “I feel like I messed everything up.”

“How could you possibly think that?” Your best friend frowns. 

“I— I kissed you.” Your sentences are stuttered. “I fe—feel like I me—messed everyth—everything up. You— You’re my bes—best friend, Channie.” 

“Look at me,” he holds his hand to your chin, tilting your head to look down at him. “You did nothing wrong. In case you forgot, I kissed you first.”

“But that was diffe—different!” You cry, yanking your hands out of his grip and turning your back on him. Chan rises from his chair, carefully watching your movements. “I kissed you!” 

He’s curious now. “Do you think I hate you because of that?” 

You turn around, and a gasp escapes you. He’s only a few inches from you, his breath kissing your cheeks. You can see a dark tinge on his tanned skin. Was he blushing? Was he mad? 

“I— I mean—” Chan steps toward you again, practically backing you into the wall.

“Because you’d be wrong,” he continues. “In fact, it’s probably made me even worse.” 

What? “Chan— what does that—”

“I’ve been obsessed with you from the day that I met you, Y/N.” Here goes nothing. Chan takes a deep breath before continuing. “Everything you do, everything you say. I’m addicted to you. You know, I couldn’t tell at first if I envied you. It was the way you carried yourself, the confidence you had in every little thing. The way you fought so hard for the things that you loved and the people you cared about. I thought I envied the way you could laugh as loud as you wanted without fearing what other people thought of you.” 

You’re against the wall now, but he hasn’t caged you in. No, he leaves you room to escape should you so choose. Your tears have stopped and Chan reaches up to cup your cheeks, wiping away the streaks that were left. 

“I was wrong.” His voice is so quiet, so much quieter than he probably intended it to be, but it has a zoo erupting in your stomach. “It wasn’t envy.”

“Then what was it?” Your voice matches his in volume, your eyes flicking from his lips and back up to meet his gaze. He takes a deep breath, relishing in the feeling of your cold hands twisting into the fabric of his shirt, your knuckles brushing against the skin of his stomach. “Channie?” 

The way you said his name should’ve been innocent. It should have just grabbed his attention, snapped him out of the spell you’ve cast on him. 

The air is knocked out of your chest at the first touch of his lips on yours. It isn’t rough, not by any means. 

His lips move smoothly against yours, slow and sure of every move he wants to make as if he’s always going to be two steps ahead of you. One of his hands slides down to cup the back of your head, right at the base to allow him to angle your head and pull your body closer to his. Your hands have tightened into his cotton t-shirt, holding so tightly you’re positive the fabric has stretched. 

Your chest is on fire, whether from lack of breath or the emotions running through you like wildfire, you aren’t sure, but you don’t want to stop. You can’t stop. Not when he tastes so good, not when he’s kissing you like there’s nothing else he’d rather be doing. 

A whine escapes you, and you feel his body go rigid. His lips stop moving, and he pulls back from you. You see his chest stuttering as he tries to stop himself from taking deep breaths. He doesn’t say anything, and neither do you for a long time. 

You don’t have to, though. The drawings he traces into your hip with his finger and the hazy, starstruck look in his eye says enough.

His eyes meet yours when you clear your throat to get his attention. 

“So,” your voice is slightly hoarse but you can’t find yourself caring. Not in front of Chan. “You never answered my question.” He bends down, his lips lightly pressing into the skin of your neck. Your breathing hitches, and you feel him smile against you. 

“What question was that?” He asks, and his voice is right in your ear, and you can’t help but pull him closer to you.

“What was it that you felt?” 

He just laughs against you, finally taking his hand out of your hair. 

“You know what it was, pretty. Don’t pretend.”

You smile, your arm coming to wrap around the back of his neck. 

Love. It was love, and you knew it the whole time.

[storytelling-timelord]

Delusional

Summary: When you follow River off a building, you meet a new, old friend.

Paring: River Song x Reader, 11th Doctor x River Song (mentioned), 11th Doctor x Reader x River Song (possible)

WC: 700

A/N: Do you ever just get an idea and you have to write it? No matter if it’s 1 am and it’s not the soundest idea but it’s an idea and it’s something and you haven’t posted in months and you aren’t sure if anyone is actually going to read this or not but you finally wrote something? That was me, then this was born. Enjoy.

P.S.: I’m not tagging anyone on this bc I’m working on a new tag system/update blog so if you’re wanting to know when I post, be on the look out for that :)

---

“You’re delusional.”

“That’s why you love me.”

She has a point. And damn was that a good point.

“Trust me Sweetie, stay with me for too long and you’ll find out just how delusional I am.” River winks at you. Her smile decorates her face beautifully as she takes your hand. With only mere seconds before the door to roof bursts open with most likely a lot of very large, angry men on power trips, she leaps off the building, gripping your hand tightly as you leap alongside her. River’s laugh carries through the air as you hold your breath, feeling her grip tighten as you close your eyes.

“Do you trust me?”

What a dumb question. “Of course I do.”

“Then we need to jump.”

“Jump? Off the building?”

“Right off, in about 10 seconds.”

You’d trust River with your life, you do trust her with your life. The only problem was the closer and closer the ground got, the more you wish you had her explain this delusional plan to you.

Then the next minute you were safe.

“You can open your eyes now, sweetie.” River’s words take a few moments to register in your brain before you allow one of your eyes to peak open, soon followed by another when you realize you’re fully laying on top of River who is laying on solid ground. At least, you thought it was ground.

With a quick look around your surroundings as you finally get off of the woman and stretch your hand out to help her, you realize you’re in a spaceship.

“Someone call for a pickup?” Your eyes scan for whoever just spoke and you almost come up empty until a bouncy bow tie wearing man pops out from behind whatever that big thing in the middle of the room is. His smile was wide as he looks between you and River.

River takes a deep breath and sighs happily when she’s finally on her feet. “Right,” she grins and walks over the room centerpiece, which are suspecting are the controls with the way River starts pulling and turning all the levers and the spaceship starts moving. “Y/N, this is the Doctor. Doctor, this is Y/N.”

The Doctor was barely able to spare you another glance before he starts trying to shoo River away from the controls. “We’ve met.” He says simply and offers you a quick smile.

You furrow your brows. Surely, you’d remember someone like him and someplace like this. “No, we haven’t.”

The Doctor pauses, looks at you and smiles. “Oh right. Well, never mind then!” You didn’t know what to make of his comments but the name did bring some familiarity.

“The Doctor?” River and The Doctor both hum a yes as you lean against the door behind you, crossing your arms. “So, you’re the Timelord then?” Again, both hum a yes. “So, you’re my girlfriend’s husband?”

There was only one hum this time from River as she kept herself from laughing. The Doctor stood up straighter, his arms falling to his sides and you could see he didn’t really know what to say exactly. You were trying to keep from laughing yourself at his expression before River slaps him on the arm.

“You told her that?” The Doctor whispers but it was pointless as he was quite the loud whisperer.

“I tell her everything.” River shrugs, looking up at you through her lashes with a smirk. “Besides, she’s read my book.”

The Doctor didn’t really know what to say to that. In the time he’s known you, he didn’t know exactly what you knew before you met him.

“Relax Doctor, I’ve been with River long enough to know this is just another part of the adventure.” You smile at River, watching her at the controls as she practically spins around the Doctor. The Doctor hasn’t looked away from you. He was shifting his jaw, his lips lightly lifting up fondly in the corners as he lets River steer you three wherever it was she wanted to go. And he would follow the two of you anywhere.

.

.

.

.

[ackermonie]

like a hot dad

content: nsfw, long haired levi, breeding kink, daddy/mommy kink if u squint, dilf levi, post war canon

warnings: +18 content, mild manga spoilers, f!bodied reader.

wc: 1.5k~

tags: @motherfckerrr bc they commented ehe

a/n: i genuinely had no idea where this was going i just kept writing and somehow ended up with being h word for dilf long haired levi and idk how to take it back tysm

also pls reblog if u can!! i’m tryna gain back my old followers from my previous blog due to shadowban, so spreading the word could def help!! tysm either way<3

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

do you think levi would grow his hair out post-war?

idk mahn but the vision of him with a short wolf-ish is really getting to me.

i feel like maybe he’d let it grow accidentally. with the healing process for his knee and the rest of his wounds i feel like he wouldn’t really care about his hair, and you’re totally in for it.

it’s a huge change. for years, you’re used to levi’s neat hair and infamous undercut, and you were 100% into it. but now as he finally lets you cut his hair for him instead of doing it himself, you kinda slowly fix it in a wolf cut and let it grow gradually.

you’d come up with excuses every time he asks you to cut his hair.

“i have so much to do around the house today, my love. maybe tomorrow?”

“oh, i’m on my period today. i can barely stand up.”

“oh! i forgot i have to go get stuff from the market! i’ll be meeting gabi and falco, i can’t be late, can i?”

once he gets frustrated with you, the raven silk was already down to his nape. it shaped his face beautifully, and once you caught him with a pair of scissors in the bathroom, your soul left your body.

“WAIT!” you dash to him, holding down the armed left hand. “you’re not left handed! you wanna ruin your hair??”

“shut up,” he rolls his eyes at you. “you’ve been putting me off for months. look how long it’s gotten!” he gestures with a hand to the mirror in front of you two. “i look hideous.”

you slip the scissors from his hands, and levi catches the little sly smile that slips on your face as you squeeze yourself between his body and the sink.

you watch the realization fall on his face while your hands slip in his hair.

“is this what i get for letting my guard down around you?”

“you look beautiful,” you tell him, love struck as you are, never missing the pink dust that rushes to his cheeks “everyone compliments you for it. you still wanna cut it off again?”

“i don’t give a shit about anyone else.” he grumbles and looks down between you both, leaning on his cane. “i don’t look representable.”

“you don’t have to look representable,” your tone lowers in sincerity. a thumb grazes the scar on the right side of his face. “you’re not a captain anymore, my love. you’re free to do whatever your heart pleases.”

he looks up at you, features blank, but you know well how your words are tossing and turning in his brain.

“besides,” your smile returns back to your face, and you pull him a little closer. “you look extremely hot.” a hand trails down to the hem of his shirt, your eyes following the movement, then you return your gaze back up to him. “like a hot dad.”

his eyebrows shoot up, playfulness making an appearance on the previous stoic features. “like a hot dad?”

“mmhm,” you affirm with a mock-nonchalant nod, and you slip away from him jjjuuust when he was about to pull you in. you look at him over your shoulder, mischief pure in your gaze. “i’ll go check on dinner for the guests coming tonight. feel free to join.”

only except that ten minutes later, the kitchen is completely empty and you two didn’t manage to make it past the living room. he was seated on the sofa, head throw back with his fucking hair framing his delicious expression like that, you swear you could cum untouched in your position between his legs as you get to work.

“like a hot dad, huh?” he mumbles, all breathless and shit once you were seated in his lap, his length stretching you perfectly. a hand reaches up to wipe away the remaining of his previous climax on the corner of your lips. you throw your head in the crook of his neck, the pleasure of your hips rolling skillfully against his hitting you bad. “you could’ve just asked, lovely. wanna make me a daddy?”

you manage a shaky nod when he begins to meet your hips halfway.

a hand trails up from your waist to garb your neck, squeezing deliciously as he pulls you away from his neck to take a good look at you. “words, my love.”

“yes,” you nod, eyes closed in bliss. one of your hands grab the wrist of the hand around your neck. “wan’ make y-you a…hhah… daddy.”

“fffuuck…” he groans out when you squeeze around him, letting himself gather enough strength before he throws you off of him and onto the sofa. when your thighs are squeezed together at the painful loss of contact, a palm falls on one of them, leaving a flushed mark in its wake.

“open wide, baby.” he grabs a hold of his cock while he holds the back of your opening thigh to keep the pair apart. the years upon years in the survey corps leave you as flexible as you can be, so when he presses your thigh back, your joints bend easily at his will. pumping himself a few times as he gazes at your glistening folds, another groan breaks out from deep in his chest.

“god, look at you.” he rolls his hips in, and you feel him slip through so pleasurably that you can’t hold back the loud whimper that escapes you.

because damn, how could you not from this view? this is a face of a determined, pussy-drunk man. sweat broke on his forehead, a few strands sticking to the skin while the rest of his hair falls around his face perfectly. you see a ting of pain on his features, and you scatter to try to change your position for a more comfortable one for him, but he is quickly pushing you back down to the couch, a hand falling to your lower abdomen.

the pressure he puts there makes you forget your own name, and it shows on the way your body shivers with bliss. his thrusts increase in velocity, the maddening roll of his hips against yours throwing you in a whole other dimension.

a hand reaches out to grab yours, and through the dizzying pleasure, you realize that levi is pressing your own hand to your abdomen underneath his.

“look how deep inside am i,” he grumbles, leaning down to press a kiss on your bouncing tits. you feel his length stroke in and out of you the more levi puts pressure on your hand. “taking me so well. always so well, baby.”

he takes control of your hand once more, feeling you squeeze familiarly around him, and he pushes your fingers through his hair. you yank on the strands immediately, pulling out a fucking growl out of the man as he leans down until your chests were touching, putting a bit of his body weight on you for support.

you latch onto him like a koala, the burn of your core muscles stretching as he pushes you in a mating press mixes well with your pleasure-high brain. levi kisses, licks, bites down on your neck to leave marks you’ll have trouble hiding later, but you don’t give a shit. you arch your neck more, letting out a long moan when he nips at a certain spot, the bliss turning you mad.

levi is breathless. his puffs of air fan your face when he brings his face on top of yours. a whimper escapes past his lips, his features twisted with pleasure uncontrollably, and you drown in the sounds he makes.

“wann’ make you a mommy too,” he mumbles, open lips landing on the corner of your lips. “wanna…hhah… fill you up. over,” he pauses, delivering an especially harsh thrust that you feel at your cervix. “and over again.”

“levi, i’m so—,”

your body begins to curl into him, eyes closing uncontrollably, and the poor man barely has any chance to ready himself for the way you tighten impossibly around him as you give him your first climax.

your body shivers and quivers, shaking as he overstimulates you chasing after his own pleasure. he leans back up, hands harshly grabbing your lips as he manages to pull you even deeper, and you tightness milk him.

it isn’t the first time he cums inside you, but this one sure hits different. after a few more thrusts that manage to abuse your cervix, levi stills stiffly with a strong groan, and you feel his warmth coat your walls .

he gives you a few more deep strokes as he leans down to kiss you deeply, making sure he fucks all his load deep enough.

his hips still once more, but you keep devouring his lips. weak moans are erupted from both of you as you two calm down gradually, before levi throws sway your attempts of calming down your still-raging arousal when he pulls away, leans up, and slowly pulls out of you.

and he watches the mixture of both your orgasams begin to pool out of you, and you watch as he takes two fingers to push everything back in. you shamelessly roll your hips against bis digits once more.

he looks up at you, fingers still engulfed, snd a smirk takes over his handsome features.

“one more time for good measures?”

[jakesimfromstatefarm]

not jealous | jake sim

summary: jake sim is not a jealous person. at least that's what he tells himself. so why does he find himself going through your phone when a certain "bluejay park" decides to text you?

pairing: jake sim x y/n [ft. mentions of jay park]

genre: angst, fluff 

warnings: angst, cursing (very minimal), one slightly suggestive sentence, jake being cute, some more angst lol, slightly cheesy bc jake’s just too cute ugh

wc: 3.8k

a/n: ok i loved writing this, which is why i went on to almost 4k words LOL oops. but anyways, i love jake a little too much and this type of scenario has been running around in my head for a while now so i decided to put it into words. also i may have created this blog just so i could post this somewhere LMAO anyways yeah this was my first fic so hope you guys enjoyyyy <3

Jake Sim is not a jealous person.

At least that's what he tells himself. To be fair, in his past relationships, he never showed any jealously. Then again, he doesn't know if he can call those relationships, "relationships". Does a fifth grade relationship with a girl who he was once dared to kiss during a game of Truth or Dare in the basement of a classmate's house during their 11th birthday party count? He doesn't remember being jealous when the same girl was later dared to kiss his classmate, Sunghoon. (Funny enough, that's how the two boys came to be best friends 'til this day, but that's a story for another time.) 

But really, Jake doesn't think jealously is one of his traits, even if he's now almost 20 years old without any experience with love other than his current relationship with you and that short-lived romance in the fifth grade. (What was her name again? Jake would have to ask Sunghoon later.)

So he doesn't know what clicked in that brain of his that lead him to this current situation he was in. He doesn't know why he felt a little spark of anger in him when your phone, which you left right next to him on the couch while you went to take a shower, kept buzzing with texts from "bluejay park". He doesn't know why he couldn't kept his eyes distracted from the messages, although your phone was constantly lighting up because whatever it was Jay had to say to you, he would not shut up about it. He doesn't know why he questioned what your relationship with Jay was for a split second.

In fact, you're close with all of Jake's friends. That's one of his favorite things about you, you get along so well with all his friends you might as well replace Jake himself in the friend group. So he doesn't know what tells him to take a little glance at your phone—at the messages.

But he finds himself doing it anyways.

Hearing that the water in the shower was still running (you were always the type to take long showers), he quickly grabs your phone and scrolls through the lock screen just to find that he couldn't even read the messages since you had your notifications set so no one could read them unless the phone was unlocked (darn you and your settings!) Thankfully, Jake knew your passcode––and you knew his too––or he thought he did. Until the iPhone vibrated, telling him the passcode was wrong.

He must've entered it too fast or something. So he tries again.

And again.

And again.

Until the iPhone switches its screen to say: "iPhone is disabled. Try again in 5 minutes."

There's no way. You never change your password. And even if you did, you would tell him—you two even had each other's fingerprints saved into each other's phones in the past (you know, before the world decided that Apple's home button was too lame and decided to just completely get rid of it). If there was an option to save multiple faces for Face ID, you two would be that couple that saved each others faces in your own phones.

That being said, Jake sat there, your phone in hand, frozen. Why was your phone locked? Why was Jay texting you 10 texts per second? Why did he feel guilty about this entire situation?

He hears the shower switch off and in that moment, he swears he feels his heart beat just a little faster. He tells himself there's no way you'll be out before the 5 minutes are up. You followed a really meticulous skincare routine (one that Jake memorized by now) that took an extra 15 minutes of your time after each shower.

"Hey Jake?" Your voice calls out from the tiny bathroom door crack that you left open before you hopped in the shower, "Is my phone out there? Do you mind bringing it to me?"

Fuck.

Jake shifts on the couch. Taps his foot on the ground. Returns your phone to its original spot. Clears his throat.

"Don't you want to get dressed first?" he calls back, quite timidly.

He can hear you stop moving around in the bathroom. Probably telling yourself what an odd response that was. To be fair, it was an odd question, considering the fact that you two have been together for so long, it’s not like he hasn’t seen you undressed before...intentionally or not. 

Next thing he knows, the steam is rolling out of the bathroom door and you're stepping out in your towel, eyebrows raised.

"If you didn't want to get up from the couch, you could've just said so, you lazy butt," you smirk at him as you walk towards him and the couch, leaving a faint trail of water drops behind you. Jake's eyes follow your figure as you go to grab your phone and lift the screen towards yourself.

That's when he freezes. You do too.

You cock your head, as if asking yourself why it was disabled. He can hear the gears in your head turning.

"Jake, did you try to unlock my phone?"

He runs through all the possible excuses he could blurt out. Come on Jake, think of something! But he knows he can't lie to you.

Too many beats of silence pass by.

"Maybe," he finally says—or more like murmurs. He looks up to you like a child looking up at their mom, who just them caught stealing a cookie from the cookie jar. To his surprise, you don't show any hint of anger. A flash of confusion—and is that worry he sees?—crosses your face for a split second before you shrug and turn towards your room to change, dropping the subject. It was natural for you two to use each other's phones anyways. So then why did you have that look of worry?

Jake knows you well, a little too well. But that's what you love about him. He can easily read all your emotions. One of the many things he picked up from dating you for almost two years now. But why would you care if he tried to get into your phone? Why would that worry you? All the possibilities run through head and his own worry begins to increase. He trusts you. He does.

So then why does the thought bother him throughout the entire day? Why does he bring it up during dinner later that night, when you're both cuddled on your sofa, slurping take-out ramen while rewatching your favorite k-drama under the thick blanket that you always keep in your living room for nights like these?

"Huh? Of course I've heard from Jay today, we had that conversation about that stupid meme you boys kept laughing about in the groupchat we're all in, didn't we?" You answer him when he asks if you've heard from Jay lately. You sit up from your warm spot under Jake's arm to put your empty bowl on the coffee table in front of you. When you lean back, you look up at him,

"Why do you ask?"

"Oh, it's nothing, just wondering," he says, avoiding your eyes by keeping his own trained on the series currently playing on your TV. This would be your third time rewatching this series together. He would never complain to you though, he knows how much you love it and if he were being honest, he was secretly attached to the characters—not that he would ever tell you, he would never hear the end of it from you and the boys.

"You're being weird. Just tell me, or did you forget that I can practically read your mind," you say with a giggle and shove to his side, the one you were currently warmly cuddled into. Jake wasn't the only one who learned how to read emotions; you could read him just as well as he could read you. And like you, that's one of the many things he loved about you. But maybe not in this case.

He toyed around with the contents inside his ramen bowl with his chopsticks.

"I just..." God, how does he word this? Why was he having trouble explaining it? You were the easiest person to talk to. To him, you were the only person he could tell everything to.

"Jaywastextingyouabunchearlier," he blurts out quickly, but not quickly enough for you to miss it.

He feels you shift under his arm. He feels the air in the room shift. Tension.

"What?" Now you're sitting upright, legs criss-crossed in front of you on the couch but turned, so your body is completely facing him. He mirrors you, sitting up to put his ramen bowl next to yours on the surface, but he stays facing the TV.

"Your phone kept going off because of him when you were showering," he says with a little more confidence. But inside, he was nervous as hell, the same nervous as when he asked you out for the first time many moons ago. But it's too late to back out now, he brought it up first, anyways. Guess we're having this conversation now, good going Jake!

"Is that why you tried unlocking my phone earlier? I mean I thought you were just trying to leave selfies on my phone like you always do but you were trying to read my texts?" You question, slightly raising your soft voice. He doesn't know how to react, he hates confrontation.

"It wasn't like that, Jay just kept spamming you and like I—why was he even texting you in the first place? Then your phone got disabled because you changed your password, which you never do by the way, so I–"

"I changed it because my little sister kept getting into my phone when I went to visit my family yesterday! Did you really think I was hiding something from you? You know I can text whoever I want, right? You don't own me."

Okay so now he's managed to make you angry. Good going Jake, part 2!

"Okay but what does Jay need from you so bad that he has to send you like 50 messages at once?" He's standing now. So are you, eyebrows furrowed together as you collect your bowls from the table.

Standing there, bowls in hand, you say, "Jake, that's none of your business! It wasn't even that big of a deal, I don't know why you felt the need to nosy around."

"Well, if he's texting you non-stop, then obviously it's a big deal! We wouldn't even be having this conversation if you would just tell me what you guys were talking about," he murmurs back, eyes narrowing. You scoff as you trail into your kitchen. He follows behind and stops at the other side at your kitchen island as you place the dirty dishes into the sink.

"No, we're having this conversation because you obviously don't trust me! It doesn't matter what we were talking about, it doesn't matter who I was texting! I could be texting your mother and I shouldn't have to tell you what we were talking about! That's why we're having this conversation," you say as you turn back to face him from the other end.

He hates this. He hates fighting with you (which is a very, very rare occasion). He hates that you think he doesn't trust you. He hates his insecurity eating at him, telling him to keep questioning you on why you and Jay were talking in the first place. He was aware that you were close with his friends, but it wasn't until the texts he realized just how close you are with them. It's not that he didn't trust you, he just didn't know how to act when it came to you and other guys. God knows how he got lucky enough to meet you, let alone date you, so the thought of him losing you to someone else actually terrified him. Not only were you his first real relationship, but he wanted you to be his first and only one in life. You were it for him.

"Why did he text you." He deadpans from his side of the kitchen.

You scoff with a hint of exasperation. "You're kidding me."

You stare at him. He stares back, quirking an eyebrow, as if restating the same question back, as if testing you.

You're fuming now. Why was he making it so hard? Why was he doubting you? Out of frustration, you start laughing, which scares him. That can't be good.

"Fine. You wanna know so bad? Take a look,"  you're one tone level away from screaming as you take your phone out of your pocket, unlock it, and open up your conversation with "bluejay park", sliding the phone across the island to reach him.

Jake stares at the phone which now lies there, unlocked, facing him. Isn't this what he wanted? It is, right? That's why he started this dreaded argument with you in the first place.

Then why does he feel so fucking awful?

He looks back up at you, to see you sighing and looking up at the ceiling, as if trying to force your forming tears back into your eyes.

Yup, he feels horrible.

"Happy? Happy to know we were just trying to plan a surprise birthday party for you but you and your jealously just had to know huh, Jake?" You quickly state, voice cracking, as you tried not to choke up. You weren't sad that he found out about the surprise. You were sad that it felt like he didn't trust you. That he thought you were the type of person to do god knows what behind his back. You hated the feeling of not being trusted. Especially by Jake, of all people.

"Fuck."

Jake's face (and heart) falls with the most broken expression you've ever seen. But you're too sad, angry, tired (a mix of all?) to care. Your only goal right now is to not let him see you cry.

You hurry past him, across your apartment, and into your bedroom, slamming the door behind you, leaving behind a shocked, and regretful, Jake.

His heart shrinks when he hears the door slam shut and a little more when he looks down at the still unlocked phone in front of him. He didn't have the heart in him to look at it anymore. Of course he trusted you, he knew what you said was the truth.

He mentally screams at himself for assuming the worst––for thinking that you, a literal angel, would betray him.  First, he thought he was losing you to someone else. Now, he was afraid he just lost you through his own actions. 

He hesitantly sulks over to your door, softly knocking when he reaches it.

"Y/N?"

No response.

"Y/N, I'm so sorry. I didn't know, I let my—”

"Jake just please leave me alone for now," he hears you painfully say from a distance, meaning you're on your bed. He knows the door's unlocked—the lock on your door hasn't been working for a long time now, despite the many times he tells you to talk to your landlord about it. But he doesn't find it in him to open it. He knows he messed up. If he saw you in there right now, crying, he wouldn't know what to do. He wouldn't know what he would to do himself, knowing he was the reason behind your tears.

He nods in silence, knowing you can't see him, but does so anyways and returns to his spot on the couch. He could leave right now, go back to the dorm with the rest of the guys, let you have your space like you wanted. But his heart hurts at the idea of leaving you sad, angry, or a combination of both. He can't leave this unresolved. He fucked up, he has to fix it.

And so he sits on your couch for another hour. The clock on the wall behind him continues to tick as the silent tension in your apartment continues to grow. When it hits 11pm and he's sure you've slumbered off into sleep, he quietly enters your room.

He can see your figure in the dark, your back facing the door as you're curled up into yourself under the comforter. He feels his heart drop a little more when he imagines you crying in that position from earlier. He slowly peels the comforter open and gets into his side of the bed, careful not to bother your sleeping figure.

Laying there, staring up at the ceiling, he's never felt more like a stranger in your bed. It's not that he hasn't slept over before, god knows he's probably slept over at your place more than he has in his own bed. But right now, in this moment, he just felt awful. Like he didn't deserve to be in such close proximity to you. How could he be deserving? He violated your privacy, made you feel like you weren't trusted, doubted your relationship.

These thoughts run through Jake's head as he stares up at your ceiling fan, wishing he could turn back time to a few hours ago, before he checked your phone, before he let his insecurities get to the best of him.

You can feel the dip he makes in the bed behind you when he gets in. Of course you're not asleep. There's no way sleep could reach you when you had the recent events constantly replaying in your head like a broken record.

You knew Jake with all your heart. You didn't have to look at him to know he was probably laying there, hurt, staring up at the ceiling, drafting what to say once you wake up—or once he knows you're actually still awake.

You decide to break the tension by turning to lay on your other side, facing him.

You were wrong. Thanks to the little sliver of moonlight shining through your sheer curtains, you can see him, now laying on his side, already looking at you with so much regret in his eyes. You can almost hear the cracks in your heart physically forming.

His eyes widen when he realizes you're still awake. He opens his mouth to say something, but not before you quickly shift over to his side of the bed and embrace him in a tight hold, burying your face into his chest. Without any hesitation, he returns the gesture, arms holding your body as close to him as possible. As if once he let go, he'd lose you forever.

He lets out a sigh of relief as he breathes you in. He didn't even know he was holding his breath all this time.

"I'm so sorry. I'm so, so sorry Y/N," he mutters into your hair. He feels his hoodie getting wet from where you buried your face. He pulls you closer, if that's even possible, feeling his own eyes heating up with sadness. He would never forgive himself for making you feel this way.

"You know I trust you right? Please know that. I shouldn't have assumed the worst when I saw your phone. I...I let my insecurities get to the best of me."

You move your head from its home on his chest to look up at him, as if asking him to elaborate. This was new to you, you didn't know he held insecurities in your relationship. But it wasn't because of you, no, you were his entire world. Losing you meant losing everything.

Jake's never been the best at saying his feelings. That's why it took him so long (with the help of his six best friends) to finally confess how he felt about you. He was afraid of letting people in if they could easily walk out. Maybe that's why he never let anyone into his life before you. But oh, were you an exception. The second he met you, he knew he was fucked. But thank god he did, because thanks to you, he's been able to be more open, more vulnerable. He's able to talk to you about anything and everything. He doesn't have that same fear of losing people anymore, not when he has you in his life to reassure him every step of the way. But right now, in this moment, he doesn't know how to tell you that his new fear was, in fact, just losing you.

The sheer idea of you not being a part of his life anymore terrified him. 

"I hope you know you're never going to lose me Jake, if that's what you're insecure about," you softly mutter as you wrap your free arm that's not stuck in between both your bodies around him to gently play with the ends of his hair. It's as if you could read his mind, he loves that you know him so well.

"It just sucks that you could even think I would ever do something as awful as what you were assuming...with one of your closest friends nonetheless," you continue.

"I know. I know, and I feel terrible. I'm so sorry. I know you would never do anything remotely close to that, and I know you would never intentionally try to keep anything from me," he sighs. He shifts so he can lie down on his back, bringing you with him to lie on his chest, never letting you go once. "It's just...I just don't know what I'd do if I ever lost you Y/N. Everyday, I ask myself what heroic thing I must've done in my past life to deserve this life with you and I can't help but think you could just as easily be stripped away from me."

As much as your heart breaks listening to him rant, you feel your love for him grow even more. You knew how hard it was for him to put his true emotions into words, and him telling you this reminded you how much trust he had in you.

After some moments of silence, moments of him drawing random shapes onto your back, moments of you two just holding each other like it was the end of the world, you speak up.

"I love you. I'm sorry for making you doubt yourself—"

"No, it's not your fault, I can't help but think things like that. I just don't know what I did to deserve you, and I know that I need to be mo–"

"Babe let me finish," you say with a little giggle in your tone. He immediately stops and mutters a little "sorry". How cute, you tell yourself.

"I was gonna say," you look back up at him so you're making direct eye contact now. "You're the only one that's ever on my mind, Jake. I can't help the way you think, but I can assure you that there is no one else I would rather be with. And I mean that for the rest of life."

You snuggle back into the comfortable hoodie he's currently wearing (you make a mental note to yourself to steal it from him later) and decide to ease the tension,

"So you're stuck with me for life, sorry to inform you Mr. Sim."

Jake lets out a laugh, looking down at you to see you returning his smile with a cheeky one.

"I love you. So much," he says so sincerely, so genuinely, that you almost tear up again from how content you were. Now you were asking yourself, what did you do to deserve him?

Jake Sim is not a jealous person.

No, he just loves you.

A lot.