This One Too! Had Me Swimming In A Pool Of Swirling Emotions

this one too! Had me swimming in a pool of swirling emotions 😭

♡ reblogging from my shadow-reader days ♡

𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐫-𝐂𝐫𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐒𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐬 

parings: johnny seo x reader

genre: oneshot, soulmates!au, college!au, childhood best friends!au, friends to lovers!au, angst, fluff, smut (first time reader)

warnings: alcohol usage, swearing

a/n: indentation indicates past events (there’s only one), italicized indicates thoughts/emphases (you’ll know)

[ 16.2 k words ]

tags: @kpopscape​ @nct-writers​ @yixing-jaehyun​ @huangvibez​ @justineasian​ @keijh​ @andypanda25​ @cherryblossomsfall​ @chittamonsie​ @selenelle​ @keonaforever21​ @suhweo​

Ever since you were able to see, you’d see that red, silken string attached to every person’s pinky finger. Your world was filled with it, some had it and some didn’t. You learned the hard way that if you were to tell others who their string connected to, it’d deteriorate into dust and their path to their soulmate would either also deteriorate or lead to another. From seeing your friends come and go, seeing their parents divorce, you didn’t speak a word because once you let the words slip from your lips, everything changed. You were thankful that you didn’t tell your parents when you were a child, because luckily, their strings were still attached to each other’s and every morning you thank yourself that you didn’t peep a word. You always thought that if you did, they’d still love each other. 

Another thing you were thankful for was growing up in the suburbs of the lovely city your parents decided to settle in and that you were living next door to the loveliest, sweetest boy, Johnny Seo. Your parents and his went to high school together, his parents were high school sweethearts whereas yours found one another in college and moved back to get married and start a small family. You were the only child, thankfully, you don’t know how else you’d survive. Johnny was already a big enough pain in the ass.

You two grew up to be the bestest of friends. Every summer the nights were filled with bonfires and smores, since Johnny was a bit older than you, he always helped you no matter how young he still was. You two also enjoyed sleepovers at one another’s house. You’d make forts out of stored blankets in the living room, watch a movie from there and end up falling asleep there for the night. Most of the time, you two played games in his room, he had a big collection. From cards to board games to video games, you two played them until you’d knock out and his parents would have to tuck you both in bed. A time where sleeping with each other wasn’t so weird. A time where things were easier. It’s fascinating to you how quickly time passes by, one time you were just starting elementary school, and the next, you’re in Johnny’s car as he drives you both to campus. 

“Last year of college, you ready?” You asked from the passenger seat. 

Johnny lowered the volume on his stereo, “yeah I guess, I’m ready to get out into the real world and start paying for my student debt,” he laughs. 

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triple checking cause man is feeling cautious 🤣

12:08 pm, jacob

gn! reader, bf! jacob; fluff; 447 words

you were both just laying on the bed closely, minding each of your own businesses on your phone. simple cuddle time, nothing new as you lay on your boyfriend's chest, scrolling on your phone.

when he lets out a cough to get your attention, you set your phone down and look up at him, waiting for him to let the words out he's apparently been holding for minutes now- as you can see in his face.

"what?" you start, caressing his chest to let him know that he can say anything. "uh, love, the boys set up a game for us in two hours... volleyball, at the court near the company." jacob warily starts, and you wait for him to continue. "...can i go?"

"volleyball? okay." you simply say, nodding and getting off his chest to lay in the pillow instead, starting to scroll up your phone again. "is it okay? i can not go, you know?" he was cautious, trying to get your attention again, but you only shrug, "why wouldn't you go? go and play. with the boys." your bluntness was confusing him, and it was making him think of all the things he's done wrong today.

"are you mad at me? it looks like you're mad. i really can skip today," jacob insists, and it piques your interest. you set your phone down, furrowing your eyebrows at him. "i'm not mad, love. you really can go. it's okay, i'm not holding you back," you explain, just as confused at him. were you always that hard to convince when he asks to go out with the boys?

"please don't be mad." jacob makes you feel bad now. but to be fair, he looks just as confused as you. so you chuckle, cupping his cheek. "i'm not, love. puh-lease," you laugh. "you're not mad? can i really go play?" you laugh harder when jacob's face contorts into a baby face, pinching his cheeks. "one, i'm not mad. two, you can really go play. you're making me feel bad now! am i this strict with you before for you not to believe me?" jacob almost turns the bed around when he hears your last statement, making sure to assure you that you weren't and there was no need to feel bad. he was really just making sure.

"i love you. you can go change and prep now," you push him out of bed, making sure to steal a kiss to end the small talk. "i love you more. i hope you know that. i'll make sure to end the game quick and come home to you," jacob winks, stealing another kiss before he scurries out of bed.

taglist: @sunlightwoo (answer the form on my pinned to be included!)

♡ reblogging from my shadow-reader days ♡

Risk it all

pairing: street racer! yuta x mechanic fem! reader

genre: fluff (best friends to lovers / mutual pining) , angst

word count: 3,026

warnings: illegal drag racing, mention of a deceased relative, dangerous driving, mention of a tattoo needle

summary: "When Yuta walks into your car shop in his old Nissan Skyline asking for a mechanic to tune it for his next drag race, you almost turn him down immediately. You could have never imagined how much closer you'd grow through this process, building a friendship - and maybe something more - while building his ride. Tonight, Yuta has found himself in a race that will have him put it all on the line. For his grandfather's name. For his reputation. For you"

author's note: hey sukie @hyuckdove! I was your secret writer for ficscafe's fic exchange event! This fic definitely put me outside of my comfort zone (a lot of research hahah), hopefully I've written something close to your taste and sorry for being late 😣 hope you like it! <333

general taglist:

@naomis-sins, @slightlymore-main, @jjaeyoonoh, @ichbinschnappi, @infnteen, @markresonates, @babyksworld

One hand on the wheel, the other on the e-brake.

The seat felt too small for his liking as the fine leather pulled him in. Yuta wanted to fleet already, to fly off into the road, victoriously cross the finish line. He choked up in the containment of the seatbelt and the heavy expectations; too much was on the line for him.

With trembling hands and sweaty palms, he pushes back the bangs that grew too long for his small face, dyed a cherry red to fit the color of his ride. He uses a Hello Kitty hair clip to keep them off his face, one that you ironically gifted him on his first race win that he still holds onto like treasure in his pockets. The studded cuffs and noisy chains on his wrists dangle swiftly in the movement, and he decides to fix the front mirror in a compulsive urge that overwhelms him.

Hanging from it is a pair of those kitsch plushie dice and an old, battered-down picture. Him with a man that’s worn out from time but still looks a ton like Yuta; same nose, same smile, a same glint in his eyes. Yuta hears the sudden rev coming from the car on his left; it’s loud and piercing but it’s not enough to pull him out of the moment, still taking the time to kiss the pads of his fingers and touch the face of the man depicted.

It’s hot and humid in his car, especially after he turned the AC off to avoid any water spillage on the street. For a moment he catches his reflection in the mirror, sees the sweat droplets that collect around his temples and draw a wet path along his neck, right over the matching tattoo you got together. He smiles at the memory of you holding onto his hand for dear life, cussing out anything and everything on your sight as the needle pierced your skin.

It’s a chrome engine tattoo, pulsating to life along with his veins, the very first component that you installed in his car.

This race is for you.

It seems like yesterday when he rolled into your family’s car shop for the first time, freshly turned 20 and asking for the best mechanic available to help tune his car. He heard your father call your name, and soon you walked in proudly, in your oil spilled overalls and hair pulled up in a pretty ponytail. You barely sent a look his way, too preoccupied with eyeing up his ride suspiciously, while Yuta’s stomach rumbled with butterflies.

“A Nissan Skyline R34”, you deadpanned and Yuta swelled up with pride, smile shining ever so brightly next to the dusty exterior.

“I’m ‘going to Mexico’ in two weeks against a Porsche 911. I’m planning on winning.”

“With this piece of bone stock? You must be kidding.”

“That’s why I came here. I’m planning on making this baby faster.”

Walking slowly in circles around the vehicle, you estimated the rust damage, deciding to then pop up the hood. You frowned silently in concentration as you inspected the engine carefully for any fluid leaks, corrosion, or any cracked hoses and belts.

“It’s in an ok condition, I must admit, the mileage is pretty good too. But it’s still not good enough for most drag races. Maybe if you sold it for a-”

“Not happening”

Startled by the absolution in his voice, you finally took a moment to look at the boy standing before you. He was plainly dressed, with a simple tank top that hugged his torso tightly and blue jeans that bagged out just enough. His long fingers were decorated by bulky rings, shaped like crosses and hearts and scary skulls, and while the shaved patch on his eyebrow gave an edge to his appearance, his eyes to you seemed sweet like honey.

“If you make a good investment now you can get a car that can hold up better for competitions. Think about-“

“I said. It’s not happening.” You watched him curiously as he sighed in disappointment, his sharp shoulders slumping in deflation. “If you’re not gonna help me I’ll go find somebody else. But I’m not selling this car.”

“May I ask why?”

It was fate, or maybe pure curiosity. If this was any other customer you would have turned on your heel already, too deep in work to worry about a random man’s drag racing capriccio.

“This car once belonged to my grandpa. He was a famous drifter, did drag races too. He’d talk to me about all the car meets he went to and all the interesting people he met. My family doesn’t understand this world, thinks it’s stupid and dangerous and maybe it is, so they sold all his other rides”. He approached the low car, softly caressing its faded paint. “But this one he wanted me to keep. It was his last wish before he-“

“I’m sorry”, you whispered when he choked up, still staring as he waved his hands over his face.

“No, I understand”, he chuckles defeatedly, “You’re not the first car shop to turn me down.”

You thought this would be the end of the conversation with the handsome stranger, just a faint memory that would soon be hidden somewhere in your hippocampus when he slapped a band of bills on the trunk, making your eyes bulge out of your head. It was 100s. Thousands of worth.

“Where the hell did you get this?”

“From racing.”

“With that thing? You must be good”

“Thanks?”, Yuta tittered, tugged between flattery and offense, his breath hitching in his throat in anticipation when you spoke again.

“Come by tomorrow at 6 am. We have a lot to do.”

New engine, new tires, new exhaust. That’s how you made your first appearance at the next local car meet, your freshly painted “Cherry Bomb” making the JDM lovers swoon at her red beauty. Every time you’d rev between the crowds of car fanatics, your duo would have a brand new spec to show off, making your name well known in the small underground community. “The ever-growing ride”, your father would jokingly call it, reminiscent of the ever-growing friendship between you and Yuta.

At the drag racing events, people knew you as ‘Yuta’s girl’, but it was really you who took him under your wing and he was grateful for it. Slowly but steadily, Yuta became a part of your little car shop family, basking in the acceptance of your folks and hurting as he witnessed your financial difficulties. He wasn’t just a sponsor, but an endless source of inspiration for you as well, sharing stories of all the races you prepared the cars for but never attended until he’d finally invite you to join him.

That glow in your eyes at the sight of all the tuners was enough of a reason for Yuta to ask you to accompany him every time; his personal human lucky charm. He justified it somehow, saying that “his mechanic should be there just in case”, successfully ignoring the real reason behind his request that bubbled in the form of a beating heart. And it was true, that you knew his car better than anyone, but you also knew everything ‘under the hood’ of Yuta’s heart. All his ambitions, worries, his insecurities. They became yours as well, you felt them even deeper every time he crossed that finish line.

And it’s confusing to everyone but to you both as well, how you keep labeling your duo as ‘just best friends’. Even when he insists that you kiss his cheek every time he rides the asphalt for good luck. Even if the way you run into his arms the moment he walks out of his vehicle is too intimate to be friendly.

It was just last week, at a car meet like any other that he placed tonight’s important bet.

You and Yuta liked rolling in the meeting area a little late, basking in the whistles of all the impressed car enthusiasts. Opening the truck after you parked, you took out a couple of beers that you kept in a cooler, and sat with him on the hood as you casually chatted with a guy around your age.

“Nice ride man. What’s your most precious compartment?”

“This one”, Yuta stated matter-of-factly as he pointed at you, then used the same hand to bring your intertwined fingers to his lips, “She made it all possible. Smartest girl in town.”

You take a sip from your drink to cool your face down, your heart swelling with his praise. The man chuckles at the sight of you so close yet so shy towards each other, ending this part of the conversation with a nod of agreement.

“I see. I was asking because my friend is in town and he has the same car, well, the skeleton at least. Same horsepower too.”

“And?”

“...And I was looking for a good competitor”, another man answers instead, presumably the aforementioned friend. “Lee Taeyong”, he introduces himself, shaking Yuta’s hand and playing with his car keys with the other.

It was glaringly obvious that Taeyong wasn’t from around town. Dressed in Gucci from head to toe and covered in expensive jewelry, he dripped with an opulence that didn’t fit anyone around him. It seemed strange to you that he didn’t come over with a supercar or something, but then again, collecting cars from the ’90s can be equally as expensive.

“I wanna ‘go to Mexico’ before I leave for Macau. And I want to have some extra money to spend”

“Too bad the money’s going to me”, was Yuta’s smooth response, and you tried not to smile too wide at his rightful certainty.

“So, you’re in?”

“Depends on the prize”

“How about ten grand?”

The mention of the number made you choke on your beer, the amount of money being unfathomable to you. In this city, a couple of thousands alone seemed like a pretty big deal, with most of the racers being truck drivers or small business owners. You expected Yuta to politely decline, or maybe point him to a wealthier racer when he reached out his hand in agreement.

Immediately your mouth went dry, tugging the sleeve of his shirt in shock. This kind of loss would put him into bankruptcy, and Taeyong didn’t seem like a guy that would let a bet of this caliber go. He ignored you with a smile until they settled the details, and then ignored you some more when you nagged him about his terrible money handling.

“It’ll be okay”, was what he simply told you that day, and what he repeated again tonight before getting in his car.

You had faith in his abilities, that much was true, but your love for him exceeded it by much. It made your legs shake from nerves that you couldn’t get rid of, your eyes welled up with anxious tears. He had put you in his arms to calm you down, as if you were the one in need of relaxing, in those kinds of hugs that muted the commotion of the people around you and made your whole body feel weightless.

“Be careful”, you mumbled through his shirt, your face hidden safely in the fabric and ignoring the curious stares that the spectators sent your way. His hands were playing with your hair softly in response, and you loosen your grip on him for a second to take a good look at his face before he hit the road.

“Let’s make a bet of our own”, he suggested, in a voice so low that you’d have missed it if you weren’t so close to him. “How about I take you out for dinner if I win?”

“Like a celebratory dinner?”

“Like a date. My treat.”

You were taken aback by how serious he was being, chuckling nervously at the proposition.

“Well, if you lose I might have to buy your broke ass dinner every day.”

“Is that a yes or a no?”

You leaned up to reach his face, petting his hair out of his cheeks until you found the upturned corner of his mouth, then planted a soft kiss right over the fold. His hands were still keeping your bodies flushed together, heartbeats beating so hard that your pulses overlapped and danced with one another. A promise, lingering in the night breeze and the faint lines of friendship you toyed with for months now took the form of your pink lipstick on the side of his lips tonight.

“Yes. Now go get ‘em”

He was reluctant yet he let you go, ignoring Taeyong’s teasings and entering his Skyline. It was this very series of events that brought him to this moment, staring at your extended arms as you stood between the two cars, preparing to give their cue to start.

This was a ‘heads up’ race, meaning that whoever crosses the finish line first, wins. They’d compete at a simple “U” shaped course, testing both their mechanics and driving abilities.

Yuta slowly eases his feet off the clutch, pressing into the accelerator until he feels the car pulling him forward. This is it.

“Ready?” you shout over the loud exhausts, and start counting once you get a nod from both, “3, 2, 1, GO!”

Pushing down the e-brake as hard as he can, he lets his car launch into the street. Taeyong is just a few seconds ahead of him, getting a slightly better head start, so Yuta doesn’t waste any more time to go into full throttle. The index of the speedometer passes by the three-digit numbers with as much urgency as him.

And you were just as nervous, if not even more, staring at the two cars battling head to head. In just a few second’s it’d be time for the big turn, and you plant your right foot into the concrete as if you could slow down Yuta’s car for him.

But he doesn’t.

A scream gets caught in your throat as he takes the turn in full speed, pulling a drift that lives up to his grandfather’s reputation. The crowd cheers enthusiastically, zooming in as they take videos of the dangerous stunt that’s hardly ever witnessed live. With such a small decrease in speed, Yuta widens the margin between him and Taeyong by a whole lot, victoriously accelerating to the finish line.

Men, children, young women, they all gather around his vehicle that’s slowly cooling down, congratulating him on the win and the newly earned money. Yuta is polite to them all, shaking their hands and flashing them his beautiful smile, yet his eyes are searching past them, looking for you.

“Y/n!”, he yells at you as you walk away from the scene quickly, hiding your face with the sleeve of your jacket. “Where are you going?”

Usually you’d have tackled him already, jump in his embrace as you’d gush over his skills. The sight of you leaving in such a hurry worries him deeply, wondering if anyone had hurt you while he was gone.

He finally reaches your speed as you enter the underdeck parking area of a nearby building and manages to pull you back, only to see your face covered in hot tears.

“Why are you crying? What happened?”

“Are you kidding me? You could have died out there!”

The sound of your sobs blocking out your voice makes his heart break into million pieces, reaching out to pull you in a hug that you reject.

“I’m fine! I know that turn was risky but I-”

“You got lucky Yuta, that’s what you did! Do you have any idea what it feels like to see someone you love risking their lives?”

“Love?”

“Yes! Love! Is that it? Will me admitting how fucking in love I am with you stop you from acting dumb again? Because I-”

Yuta kisses you with such force that you stumble back a little, gasping for air as it’s being knocked out of your lungs. Your lips taste salty, like the tears that cover your cheeks, and he places his thumbs right over them until he’s rubbed your skin dry. You could be kissing for five minutes or five hours, you’re not really sure; times flies by so fast when you breathe the same air as the person you’ve been pining over for so long.

A hand sneaks past your jacket and wraps around your waist, his rings feeling so cold against your skin that you yelp a little. Yuta swallows the sound but breaks the kiss to make sure you’re feeling better, connecting his forehead with yours when he sees that you’ve stopped crying.

“I’m an idiot”

“Yeah”, you agree and it makes him chuckle, burying his face in your neck as you continue, “your life is worth so much more than all that money”

“I did it for you.”

“What?”

He sighs in your skin and stands up straight again, rubbing his neck right over his tattoo.

“I wanted to give the money to your family. I’ve seen you struggling to keep the shop open and I know you sell me the parts for much cheaper, not to mention all the hard work you’ve put into my car. You’ve given me so much and a simple ‘thank you’ is not enough. I wanted to give back to you.”

You wrap your hands around his neck, playing with the little hairs on the nape of it. He closes his eyes at the feeling, giving in to the serenity of the moment and the sweet sound of your voice.

“You already do. Being around you and being a part of the thing you love most- it’s given me a new drive to work and be better. I’ve grown with you, and I know you appreciate me. You didn’t have to risk your life for me to know.”

Yuta kisses you again, whispering small ‘I love you’s over your lips. You hear a faint voice calling him from afar, yet he doesn’t move an inch away from you.

“You’re worth risking it all.”

assertive mark is always an attractive portrayal 🙂‍↕️ ♡ reblogging from my shadow-reader days ♡

Softer than velvet

pairing: magazine co-editor! mark lee x fem!y/n

genre: smut

warnings: office sex

word count:  2,926

summary: “Mark is a co-editor in the fashion magazine you work for, monopolizing everyones attention with his looks, including yours. Prompted by his vast knowledge about lingerie and his tendency to want to rip them apart, you invite him in your office, and you definitely put him to work”

a/n: inspired by the legendary scene from ‘Community’ and a discussion I had with my bf and best friend about lingerie.

—————————————————-

He looked dashing again, as always. 

While Monday morning finds most employees in their tousled bed hair, dark eye circles and crooked buttons from hasting to be on time, Mark Lee looks like he jumped out of the fashion magazine you worked for. He was an editor, like yourself, yet the way he confidently strolled through the hallways, capturing everyone’s attention, had executives and employees alike toying with the idea of having him in their bed.

Mark’s shoulders looked even broader in the white shirt he had chosen for the day, neatly ironed and held together with a bright coral tie. A suede brown vest, that would look plain weird on anyone else that would dare pull it off, showed off his tiny waist perfectly, short enough for the workers on the welcome desk to whisper in admiration about his ‘cute perky butt’.

As one of Mark’s many secret fans, you wanted to join in on their giggling, but as his coworker you had to keep yourself from indulging in those dirty thoughts that kept creeping in your head. It was hard to deny this sweet distraction, that perks you up in excitement and turns up the heat of your body.  Like now, that he makes his way towards you in the main lobby, and you wonder how nice his pink locks would look between your thighs.

“Good morning, y/n”, he says when he’s finally standing in front of you, and you almost spill your mug filled with instant coffee in the sound of his raspy morning voice.

“Lee”, you address him almost coldy, but your smirk as you take a sip of the hot liquid gives you away. You can’t stop yourself from checking him out, his new high-end belt begging to be tugged on and used in other ways that it was originally made for. He bites his cheek when he notices your eyes laying on his crotch a second too long but he decides not to mention it.

“Are you going on a cigarette break soon?”

You sigh, rolling your eyes before making sure to lower your voice. “Didn’t you hear yesterday’s briefing? New boss is trying to cut them and apparently so must we. No smoking allowed here anymore.”

“Then you chose the wrong outfit”

He seems satisfied with the little yelp you let out, internally scolding yourself for getting so worked up over his compliment but hell, there’s nothing more you want than to fuck that smile off his face. If that’s what he wanted that’s what he’d get, but you refuse to look all fucked out here in the open just from the mere words of Mark Lee. Not when so many of your assistants were watching.

“We got assigned the lingerie issue together”, you change the subject and start walking towards your offices at the end of the floor. “ I need you to show me your picks later”

“It was hard finding anything worth including, except for Savage X Fenty nothing new is in the game. The La Perla designs are so outdated, and don’t get me started on Fleur du Mal.”

“Wow, you seem to know a lot about lingerie, huh?”, you exclaim, genuinely impressed, and you let him bask in his pride for a little. He runs his fingers through his hair and you catch a whiff of his shampoo, its scent coupled with his cologne highly addictive.

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mailboxes | lee haechan

summary: haechan likes to send you voice notes to your mailbox when you don't pick up your phone.

warnings: swearing, pet names, freaky!haechan

paring: haechan x fem!reader

"why are you never picking up your phone when its important, im in this dog café right now, aweeeee you're so cute im gonna take you home with me ,i mean baby you should've seen those cute dogs"

"baby you won't believe me, i just fell down the stairs and i got pushed, I GOT PUSHED! i couldn't see who it was but i assume it was mark since i knocked his chair over a few days ago , anyways i love you bye"

· · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

· · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

"its 2 am, my hand hurts, can you help me out? darling you're so pretty when you get down on your knees for me, those tears in your eyes when you- i'm sorry i drifted off with my imagination eh"

· · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

"remember when we first met at this mall? im right at the spot where we first met, and im so fucking damn glad i had the guts to ask you for your number YET YOU SUCK AT PICKING UP, oh shit everyone is staring at me, i love you and see you at home"

· · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

"i am soaking wet, i repeat soaking wet. i canceled my uber because it was sunny outside, but GUESS WHAT!!! it started raining when i was halfway there, now im seeking shelter in a convenience store, god even my underwear is wet if you hear this before i arrive, please hold up a towel for me"

· · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

"you rushed out before i could tell you, i hope your drive to the store was good. okay let me start, beer, beer and beer. i need beer. get the most expensive ones you can find, use my card for everything you buy today, treat yourself doll and i love you get home safe please"

· · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

"help me, im running away from renjun cuz i stole his last slice of pizza. he's gonna get me oh my god BABY HE IS COMING CLOSE TO ME PLEASE HELP ME STOP RENJUN NO PLE-"

· · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

sweater weather “confessions” 🥹

sweater ☆ riki nishimura

☆ non-idol! bf! riki x fem! reader ☆ summary: when riki doesn't recognize a sweater that you're wearing, he gets insecure. ☆ genre: fluff, hurt-comfort ☆ warning(s)? insecurities and cheating briefly mentioned ☆ word count: 1.0k ☆ reblogs and comments are appreciated! also this was such a big trend in 2020 in the haikyuu fandom my god

“What the fuck, dude?!”

You head whipped around to see your boyfriend frowning on your bed.

It was another one of those nights.

Riki and you would stay together all night, either to study or just fool around. It was deeper into the night now. You had just gotten out of the shower, changing into one of your dad’s oversized sweaters that miscellaneously made its way into your laundry. You liked the way that it fit, draping over you comfortably.

You were peacefully doing your skincare routine when Riki’s outburst interrupted you.

With half-applied moisturizer, you cocked a brow at him, looking at your boyfriend over you shouldes.

“What happened?”

The wide scowl that broke out on Riki’s features was alarming. His brows knitted together and his lips curled. Riki let out an offended scoff, throwing his phone aside and jumping to his feet. He paced toward you with vigor, grabbing onto your shoulders.

“You know what you did, and you’re just going to act like you did nothing–?”

“What the fuck are you talking about, Riki?” You clutched boyfriend’s shoulders, slowly pushing him away.

He didn’t move. His large hands squeezed your shoulders, his face contorting. Anyone would think that Riki’s face was painted with anger, but you knew better.

He was confused.

And distraught.

Riki sunk his teeth into his bottom lip, fingers brushing against the hem of your sweater.

For him, the issue was your sweater.

He’d never seen it before. 

These days, Riki was feeling insecure.

All throughout high school, you were endlessly popular. Riki would be lying if he said he never felt a tad insecure. There were so many guys that still pined after you. So many guys that were ten times smarter than him. So many guys that were endlessly kinder than him. So many guys that had perfect temperaments and maturity. After all, why would you, the prettiest, smartest, strongest, and most perfect girl in the entire world, want to stay with someone as crass and needy as him?

Sometimes, words got to him. Those that knew about your relationship talked. And they never seemed to fully approve of the two of you being together.

She deserves better, was always the first thing that came out of their mouths.

And sometimes Riki agreed.

The thought of someone else holding you, someone touching you and kissing your lips, someone getting to gaze into your eyes and whisper those three words from their heart to you made Riki feel sick to his stomach. 

But he couldn’t help but feel inferior. Maybe someone else would be better for you.

So when he saw you wearing a sweater that he didn’t recognize, Riki’s insecurities got the best of him. You didn’t wear sweaters often, and if you did, it was always his. His sweaters were distinctly too big for you, always being oversized.

Which was why Riki’s mind ran wild.

Where did you get that oversized sweater if it wasn’t Riki’s?

And more importantly, who did it belong to?

“I know I’m not good enough for you,” Riki grumbled, “But you could’ve told me before you went off with another guy.”

“Wait, what?”

Riki looked down. If he looked you in the eye, he’d probably start crying. 

He didn’t respond.

“Riki, what are you talking about?” Your hand gently came up to grasp his cheek, which he pulled away from. “‘Went off with another guy’? What are you even saying?”

When he finally looked at you, you saw the hot tears that were lining his eyes. He pushed your hand away, quickly wiping his eyes.

You pushed him onto the bed, sinking down onto his lap. You caressed his cheek. 

“I’m not going to leave you, Baby,” you said. “I mean, there’s no one that I could ever like as much as you.”

You brought your fingers up to his eyes, gently pressing his eyes shut. Then, you leaned in to kiss his eyelids, then his temples. With your fist, you softly knocked on his head. “I always wonder what’s going on in that head of yours.”

Riki didn’t say anything. Instead, he melted into your touch, sliding his arm around your torso, pulling you closer to him. 

“I love you, Riki, I hope you know that” you said into his ear. “So I don’t want you to cry anymore.”

“I wasn’t crying,” Riki mumbled against your shoulder.

“Sure, Baby,” you patted the back of his head. 

After a few moments of silence, you asked, “What made you think that I would leave you?”

“Your sweater. I hate it.”

You cocked a brow. “Why?”

“Looks like some other dude’s.”

You shared another silence.

You let out a small, ‘ah.’ Getting off of Riki’s lap, you fingered the hem of your sweater. Riki watched you as you disappeared into your closet, before reappearing with another sweater. Making sure that he was watching you, you began to pull the polyester fabric over your shoulders.

“Wh-What are you doing?!” Riki rushed to cover his eyes.

“Relax, you big baby.” 

Riki hid behind his hands, watching from the cracks in his fingers. Pulling off the sweater that you were currently wearing, you shrugged on another sweater.

It had blue and black stripes, reaching down to the middle of your thighs.

This time, Riki recognized it. It was his.

“There,” you gave him a boxy smile. “Even though that sweater was my dad’s, if you don’t like it, I won’t wear it.”

Riki’s jaw dropped, before waving his hands out in front of him. “Nonono!” he spluttered. “I was being stupid. You can wear whatever you want!”

You put your finger on your chin. “Hmmm, but I think I like your sweaters more.”

Years into the future, you never let Riki live down the fact that he got jealous over a sweater. Riki didn’t care, though. The only memory attached to that little incident worth living for was when you kissed him and said, “I love you.”