#𝒮ena’s 𝒲orks ♡︎

[fanbasetwo]

✦ SWEET NECTAR ┊ ANTON

001. PAIRING , bf ! anton × afab reader

002. SYNOPSIS , just a pussy drunk anton

003. WARNING(S) , NSFW, MDNI, pussy eating, uses of pet names, a little fingering, cumming on tongue, a little kissing towards the end, dirty talk.

004. WORD COUNT , 0.9k

Anton’s strong hands gripped your thighs, spreading them wide as he knelt between them. His piercing gaze locked onto your pussy, his eyes darkening with desire as he took in the sight of your glistening folds. You could feel the heat of his breath on your sensitive skin, making your core throb with anticipation.

He wasted no time, leaning in and burying his face between your thighs. His tongue, hot and eager, began to explore your folds, tracing every inch of your delicate flesh. He lapped up your juices, moaning at the taste of your arousal, his tongue delving deeper to reach your entrance.

“Mmm, you taste even better than I imagined,” he mumbled against your skin, the vibrations sending shivers down your spine. “I can't get enough of this perfect pussy.”

“God, you look absolutely mouthwatering,” he growled, his voice husky with lust. “I've been craving this sweet pussy all day, and now I'm going to devour it like a starving man.”

You gasped as his tongue found your clit, the sensitive bundle of nerves throbbing under his touch. He circled it teasingly, his tongue flicking rapid-fire over the swollen nub, sending jolts of pleasure coursing through your body. Your hands fisted in the sheets, your hips bucking involuntarily as he continued his relentless assault on your senses.

He chuckled, the sound muffled by your folds. “I'm not stopping, baby. I'm going to eat this pussy until you're begging me to fuck you senseless.”

True to his word, he increased his efforts, his tongue alternating between flicking your clit and plunging into your entrance. The combination of sensations was almost too much to bear, your body trembling on the edge of ecstasy.

“Fuck, I'm so close,” you panted, your nails digging into his shoulders. “Don't stop, please!”

Anton’s tongue never ceased its relentless assault on your quivering flesh, lapping and suckling at your dripping folds like a man possessed. His eyes were glazed over with lust, his entire being focused solely on pleasuring you with his mouth.

He was utterly consumed by the taste and scent of your arousal, driven to new heights of hunger by the intoxicating nectar flowing from your core.

“Oh god,” you whimpered, your voice breathy and needy. “That feels incredible. Please, don't stop.”

His hands gripped your thighs tighter, holding you open and exposed as he feasted on you. His tongue delved deep, plunging into your tight channel and curling to stroke your inner walls. Then he would drag the flat of his tongue up your slit, flicking rapidly over your engorged clit before diving back in for more.

Each thrust of his tongue sent sparks of electricity zinging through your nerve endings, building the coil of tension in your belly to an almost unbearable level. Your hips undulated shamelessly against his face, seeking more of that delicious friction. You were lost to everything but the feel of his mouth on you, drowning in a sea of sensation.

“Fuck, I can't get enough of you,” he groaned, the words muffled against your slick petals. “you taste too fucking good, like the sweetest ambrosia. I want to drink from this perfect pussy forever.”

Anton seemed to sense you were on the brink, doubling down on his efforts. He sealed his lips around your clit and sucked hard, his tongue vibrating against the sensitive bundle of nerves. At the same time, two fingers plunged knuckle-deep into your fluttering sheath, curling to hit that magic spot inside you.

The dual stimulation was your undoing. Your back arched off the bed as your climax crashed over you like a tidal wave, your inner muscles clamping down on his invading fingers. A hoarse scream tore from your throat, your vision whiting out from the intensity of your release.

As your orgasm subsided into aftershocks, Anton gentled his touch, licking and kissing your quivering flesh with an almost reverent tenderness. He placed soft, open-mouthed kisses along your inner thighs, soothing the slight sting left behind by his teeth. When he finally pulled away, his chin was glistening with your juices, his lips swollen and slick.

“Yes, yes, yes!” you chanted mindlessly, your voice high and thready with impending release. “Don't stop, please don't stop! I'm gonna...I'm gonna...”

He crawled up your body, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses to your stomach, your ribs, the valley between your breasts. When he reached your lips, he captured them in a searing kiss, sharing the taste of your arousal. You moaned into his mouth, your arms coming up to wrap around his neck and draw him closer.

But as much as you reveled in the afterglow, you could feel a renewed ache building in your core. Anton’s rigid length pressed insistently against your thigh, hot and heavy, and you knew he was just as far from sated as you were.

“You came so hard for me, baby,” he murmured, his voice rough with satisfaction. “I could feel your pussy squeezing my tongue, trying to pull me deeper.”

“Please, Anton,” you whimpered against his lips, your hips rolling restlessly against his. “I need you inside me. I need to feel you stretching me, filling me up.”

He groaned at your words, his control snapping. In one swift motion, he positioned himself at your entrance, the broad head of his cock nudging your slick folds.

“Fuck, you have no idea how badly I want to sink into this tight little cunt,” he gritted out, his hips flexing impatiently. “I’m going to ruin you for anyone else, make this pussy mine.”

NOTE : don't mind me. just taking this drabble outta my enha blog to add in here.

© 2024 all rights reserved to fanbasetwo !

[fanbasetwo]

✦ SHORT ON HEIGHT ┊ RIIZE

001. PAIRING , riize × short ! afab reader

002. GENRE , fluff, reaction, headcannon

NOTE FROM SENA , if you’ve seen this on my enhypen blog already and are worried about plagiarism, don’t worry!!

♫︎ REBLOGS + FEEDBACKS ARE ALWAYS APPRECIATED

SHOTARO . . . ✦

Shotaro adored every moment spent with you, especially when you were cozied up on the couch together, your head resting comfortably against his shoulder. The warmth of your presence made him feel at home. He glanced down, admiring how small you looked next to him, and couldn’t help but smile. “Are you comfortable, little bean?” he teased, playfully pinching your cheek. You scrunched your nose and swatted his hand away, rolling your eyes with a smirk. “Ugh, I swear, one day I’ll grow taller,” you shot back, trying to sound serious but failing to hide your amusement. Shotaro chuckled, leaning in closer. “Why would you want that? You’re perfect just the way you are.” He pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, and you felt your cheeks flush. “Plus, I love being your personal giant,” he added with a wink. “Personal giant?” you echoed, pretending to think it over. “Exactly! I’m always here to lift you up—literally and figuratively.” You melted into his embrace, feeling utterly cherished and loved.

EUNSEOK . . . ✦

Eunseok was in the middle of a video game marathon when he spotted you struggling to hang a cute poster on your wall. You were on your tiptoes, desperately trying to reach the corner while the poster threatened to slip from your grasp. “Need a boost, short stack?” he called out, a playful smirk spreading across his face. You shot him a mock glare, your cheeks puffing out in annoyance. “I’m not short!” you protested, though the laughter in your voice betrayed you. Eunseok chuckled and bounded over, his playful demeanor making your heart flutter. “Alright, let’s see if my superhero skills can save the day,” he said, effortlessly lifting you with one arm and using the other to help secure the poster. As you hung there, dangling in his embrace, you couldn’t help but giggle. “You’re ridiculous,” you laughed, leaning in to plant a quick kiss on his cheek. “Ridiculously in love with you,” he replied, grinning as he set you down, and you both admired your handiwork, feeling warmth and joy in the moment.

SUNGCHAN . . . ✦

You were sprawled out on the couch, deeply engrossed in a magazine when Sungchan plopped down next to you, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “What’s so fascinating over there, my little bookworm?” he teased, leaning closer to steal a glance at the pages. You glanced up, pretending to be annoyed. “Just some tips for tall people. You know, to remind me what I’m missing,” you replied, rolling your eyes with a dramatic flair. He chuckled, the sound warm and infectious. “I bet there’s a section on how to embrace your shortness!” Before you could retort, he wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you into his lap, causing you to squeal in surprise. “See? Being short just means you can sit here like this,” he said, resting his chin on your shoulder. Your cheeks flushed at his affection. “So you’re saying my height is just an excuse for extra cuddles?” “Exactly,” he grinned, planting a soft kiss on your cheek. “And I love every bit of it.”

WONBIN . . . ✦

Wonbin loved those lazy afternoons when you two cuddled on the couch, wrapped in a blanket like a cozy burrito. With your head tucked under his chin, you felt safe and content, listening to his heartbeat, which always seemed to match the rhythm of your own. “Do you ever get tired of being so short?” he teased lightly, a playful grin dancing on his lips as he glanced down at you. You shot him an exaggerated glare, pretending to be offended. “Excuse me? Being short is a lifestyle,” you replied, puffing out your cheeks dramatically. Wonbin laughed, the sound warm and infectious. “Well, I guess I’ll just have to carry you everywhere,” he said, playfully lifting you up as if you weighed nothing at all. “Or maybe I’ll just start using a booster seat,” you quipped, and he chuckled, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “Nah, I love having you right here.”

SEUNGHAN . . . ✦

Couldn't you feel a little irritation just flipping through pictures that you and Seunghan took together? There you were, standing next to him, just like a small child sitting next to a gigantic tree. Your pouting face looked so much the deeper as you continued to zoom in on how he flashed it with all confidence and not how you were in catch-up mode. “Why do I look like I belong in a toy store?” you huffed, tossing your phone onto the couch. Seunghan caught your sulk from the corner of his eye and chuckled, pulling his arms around you from behind. “You're cute like this!” he teased, nudging your cheek with his chin. “Cute?” you sneered, but the warmth of his embrace melted that annoyance away. “You just want to be the big spoon, don't you?” you accused with a chuckle and he just gave a squeeze to your sides, lifting himself up enough to snuggle into the crook of your arm. “Always,” he replied with a laugh, and it spread a smile across your face.

SOHEE . . . ✦

You were going to snag that salt off the top shelf. Laser focus, one leg up, reaching for it, you were going to come out victorious and take it. But that was when, just as you were brushing a finger over the container, someone swooped in and snatched it with ease. “Really?” Sohee said with a small smile, his teasing voice snapping you out of your moment of concentration. “You're climbing counters now?” You turned, flushing with embarrassment, shot him a half-hearted glare as he held the salt just out of reach, clearly enjoying this. “I had it under control,” you muttered, hopping down with as much dignity as you could muster. “Yeah, Spider-Woman,” he laughed, finally handing over the salt. You had no time to protest as he wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you close. “You're cute when you're all determined like that. But next time, just ask for help, okay?” he said, pressing a playful kiss to your forehead.

ANTON . . . ✦

As you strolled through the park, the sun was shining brightly upon you and Anton. He walked alongside you, his long legs swallowing space so easily that you began to walk a little fast to keep pace. “Hey, slow up, will ya?” you laughed, faking to be out of breath. “I'm not built for marathon walking like you are!” Anton turned to you, playing the innocent. “What are you talking about? I thought you enjoyed our adventures!” you rolled your eyes as you nudged him lightly. “Adventures don't have to feel like a workout!” He chuckled, quickly snatching your hand and swinging it playfully as you walked. “Alright, I'll keep the pace slow for my favorite shorty,” he teased, leaning in to give you a quick peck on the cheek. You smiled back at him and your heart bounced in your chest. “You bet, or I'm running you round the park.” He grinned, his eyes flashing an opportunist glint of mischief and saying, “Deal.”

© 2024 all rights reserved to fanbasetwo !

[fanbasetwo]

✦ INTIMATE HORIZONS ┊ GUNWOOK

001. PAIRING , virgin ! gunwook × virgin ! afab reader

002. SYNOPSIS , gunwook and you have been dating for years. despite your deep connection, the topic of sex has always been awkwardly avoided. both virgins and nervous about messing things up. but one night, you decide it’s time to take that step together.

003. WARNING(S) , virgins, clumsy and imperfect sex, kisses, boob play, nipple play, clit rubbing, first time, NSFW, MDNI, mentions of premature release, protected sex, a little dirty talk (?), etc, lmk if i missed anything.

004. WORD COUNT , 2k

♫︎ REBLOGS + FEEDBACKS ARE ALWAYS APPRECIATED

The storm outside was a symphony of chaos, the heavy rain drumming a frenzied rhythm against the windowpanes, each droplet a tiny drumstick pounding out a primal beat that seemed to echo the fervent tempo of your heart.

You sat across from Gunwook, your breaths coming in soft, uneven gasps that mirrored the tumultuous weather outside. Your heart raced beneath the thin fabric of your blouse, and your chest rose and fell as your eyes drank in every inch of him.

Gunwook's hands, large and gentle, were clenched on his thighs, his knuckles turned white from the force of his grip. His eyes, dark pools of emotion, darted from your face to the curves of your body, and back again, a silent conversation passing between you.

Your fingers toyed with the fabric of your top, the pads of your fingertips tracing the delicate fabric, as if seeking the courage to reach out and touch him. You watched Gunwook's lips, full and soft, as he spoke, memorizing every word that passed between you.

“May I...?” Gunwook's voice was barely a whisper, his words laced with hesitation His eyes met yours.

You nodded, your throat too tight to speak. His touch was warm, his fingers wrapping around your wrist, his thumb gently brushing against your pulse. He guided your hand to his chest, his own heartbeat a rapid drum against your palm. “I’m nervous,” he confessed, his voice low.

You could feel the taut muscles beneath his shirt, his chest rising and falling with each shallow breath. His eyes were locked onto yours, his expression a mix of vulnerability and desire. You slid your hand upwards, your fingers tracing the line of his collarbone before wrapping around the back of his neck.

He leaned in, his eyes fluttering closed as he neared your lips. “I've wanted to do this for so long,” he murmured, his breath hot against your skin. Your lips met, a soft, hesitant kiss that quickly turned into something more.

His arms wrapped around you, pulling you closer as the kiss deepened. You could feel his heart pounding in a steady rhythm against yours, his grip tightening as he traced your bottom lip with his tongue. His touch was electric, sending tingles down your spine that made your head spin.

You gasped as he broke the kiss, your chests rising and falling in sync. His eyes were dark, pupils dilated with desire and a hint of mischief. “Shall we continue this inside?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

You nodded, your voice barely a whisper as you responded, “Yes, please.” Your eyes fluttered closed as his hands slid down to your waist, lifting you effortlessly from the chair. You wrapped your legs around his waist, your arms around his neck as he carried you towards the bedroom.

The room was dimly lit, the only sound the soft rustling of clothes as Gunwook laid you down on the bed. He stood over you, his eyes roaming over your face before he slowly removed his shirt, revealing his toned chest and abs.

You bit your lip, your eyes taking in every inch of him as he slowly crawled onto the bed. “You're so beautiful,” he murmured, his hands reaching for the hem of your shirt. “May I?” His voice was soft, his eyes meeting yours for permission.

You nodded, your breath hitching in your throat as he slowly peeled your shirt off, his fingers brushing against your skin. He leaned down, his lips pressing against your collarbone, his hands sliding up your sides to unhook your bra. “You're so perfect,”

Your breasts spilled free from their confines, his hands cupping them gently, his thumbs brushing against your hardened nipples. The peaks taut and begging for his touch.

Gunwook's mouth moved lower, his lips wrapping around your right nipple while his hand teased the other. He sucked on it gently, swirling his tongue around the peak while his fingers pinched and rolled the other nipple between them.

Your back arched off the bed, your body responding to his touch instinctively. Your fingers threaded through his hair, tugging gently and encouraging him to continue. Gunwook’s free hand made its way down your torso, tracing a path over your stomach until he reached the waistband of your pants.

His touch was gentle, his fingers trembling slightly as he unbuttoned your pants and slowly slid the zipper down. He glanced up at you, his eyes seeking permission once more. You nodded, your own hands shaking as you reached for his belt, mirroring his actions.

Together, you both undressed each other, each touch tentative and filled with desire. When you were both bare, Gunwook settled between your thighs, his eyes locked onto yours. “I...I've never done this before,” he confessed, his voice barely a whisper. “I want you so much.”

Gunwook threw the last piece of cloth off, his cock sprang free from his boxers, the mushroom tip already glistening with precum. He quickly tore open a condom wrapper, rolling it down his shaft with practiced ease.

But as soon as he attempted to enter you, the condom burst, slick with his premature release. Gunwook let out a frustrated groan, discarding the ruined condom aside and reaching for another one. You couldn't help but giggle softly at the sight, finding his flustered state utterly adorable.

Gunwook leaned forward, his eyes locked on yours as he positioned himself between your legs. He reached down, running the mushroom tip of his leaking cock against your wetness, smearing the precum around your pussy lips and slicking himself up.

“You're so wet,” he breathed, his voice husky with desire. “Is that all for me?” He asked, his fingers spreading your folds apart to reveal your swollen, needy flesh. He ran his thumb over your entrance, pressing it inside you as he slowly pumped it in and out.

“Y-Yes, all for you,” you stammered, your face flushing with embarrassment. Gunwook’s touch was clumsy, his inexperience evident as he tried to prepare you for him. He pushed another finger inside, scissoring them to stretch you wider.

“It-It's not enough,” he muttered, more to himself than to you. He withdrew his fingers, bringing them to his mouth and sucking your nectar off of them. Your eyes widened at the gesture, your heart pounding in your chest. “Tastes like you,”

Gunwook positioned the tip of his cock at your entrance once more, his hand shaking slightly as he tried to align himself. He pushed forward, his thick head bumping against your tight ring of muscles. “Fuck, you're so small,”

“I-I know,” you replied, biting your lower lip as you stared up at him. “It's my first time after all,” you whispered, reaching out to place a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

Gunwook groaned, his face contorting in concentration as he tried to force his way inside. He pushed, and pushed, his cockhead stretching your delicate hymen to its breaking point. Finally, with a sharp pop, he broke through, the head of his dick sinking into your tight, virgin pussy.

“Oh god, it's so tight,” he hissed, his hands gripping your thighs tightly. He looked up at you, his eyes filled with uncertainty. “Is it hurting you?” He asked softly, his voice barely a whisper. You nodded, but wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper.

Gunwook's breath hitched as he was pulled closer, his cock sinking deeper into your tight heat. He could feel your walls stretching to accommodate him, the pressure incredible. He looked down at where you two were connected, his dick disappearing into your tiny pussy. “Fuck, you're so fucking tight,”

He began to move slowly, his hips pulling back before thrusting forward again. His rhythm was uncoordinated, his movements clumsy as he struggled to find a comfortable pace. But with each thrust, he became bolder, his hips snapping forward harder, burying himself to the hilt inside of you.

You moaned, your back arching as his cock struck every sensitive spot inside of you. His hands moved to cup your breasts, squeezing and kneading them as he fucked you. Your walls began to clench around him, tighter with each passing moment as pleasure rolled through your body.

Gunwook leaned down, pressing his lips against yours in a deep, passionate kiss. His fingers left your breasts and slid down your body, slipping between your slick folds to find your swollen clit. He began to rub the sensitive nub gently as he continued to fuck you slowly.

You broke the kiss, panting heavily. “I love you so much,” you whispered, your voice trembling with emotion. Gunwook's heart swelled in his chest, his love for you overwhelming him.

“And I love you too,” he murmured, his breath hot against your skin. He began to rub your clit faster, feeling the walls of your pussy contract around his cock in response. Gunwook knew he wouldn't last much longer, not with the way you were responding to his touch.

You reached up, tangling your fingers in Gunwook's hair as he rubbed your clit and fucked you. “Don't stop,” you begged, your hips bucking against him desperately. Gunwook kissed you again, his lips moving against yours as he rubbed your clit with one hand and fucked you with the other.

The pressure inside you grew unbearable, your body tensing as you climbed closer and closer to the edge. “Gunwook...” you whimpered, your voice barely a whisper. He nodded, his arms wrapping around you tightly as he increased the pressure on your swollen nub.

Your world narrowed down to the feeling of Gunwook's fingers on your clit and his cock buried inside you. The pressure became too much, and you came suddenly, your pussy spasming around his dick as you cried out in ecstasy.

Gunwook groaned against your neck, his own control snapping. He thrust into you twice more before burying himself to the hilt and coming inside you, his body shuddering with the force of his release. He slumped against you, his weight a comforting pressure on your body.

Gunwook lifted his head, looking into your eyes He quickly disposed of the condom in the nearby trash can, returning to your side almost immediately.

You blushed, suddenly shy as you pulled the blankets over your naked body. Gunwook chuckled softly, leaning down to kiss your forehead. “Why so shy now?” He asked gently, his fingers entwining with yours beneath the blankets. “We just...you know...like that.”

You hid your face in his chest, mumbling, “I know, but...it's different now. I'm not a virgin anymore. And you're...you're looking at me like you want to do it again.” Gunwook laughed, his arms wrapping around you tightly.

“That's because I do,” he admitted, his voice muffled against your hair. “But for now, let's just cuddle, okay?” He settled you against his chest, your head resting on his shoulder. “We have the rest of our lives to keep making love, after all.”

You snuggled closer, your arms wrapping around him tightly. “I love you,” you murmured contentedly. Gunwook tightened his grip on you, his love for you overflowing. “And I love you too,” he replied, his voice filled with emotion.

He began to stroke your hair gently, his fingers running through the soft strands as you lay contentedly in his arms. Outside, the rain continued to pour, the sound a soothing lullaby that matched the rhythm of your breathing.

As you drifted off to sleep, nestled in Gunwook's arms, you knew that this was where you belonged. With him. Always. And in that moment, nothing else mattered. Not the storm outside, not the past, only the two of you and the love that bound you together.

© 2024 all rights reserved to fanbasetwo !

[fanbasetwo]

┊ ZEROBASEONE NSFW LINKS!! ♡︎

pairing: legal line of zb1 x female reader . warnings: twt p.rn links, a lot of nasty stuff tbh . [note: wanted to do this for a while, plus a great start for this blog ig. here you go my zerose girlies >.<]

jiwoong loves it. he loves sucking on your boobs, touching you everywhere and then while fulfilling his daily boob requirement he touches himself in between.

zhanghao spooning you while going at it because you're his princess. telling you to play with your tits while he thrusts into you.

hanbin fucking you from behind after he told you to wear the ‘sexy lingerie’ he bought from the store, just so he could ruin it later on in front of a mirror.

matthew pulling you onto his lap after a fight. caressing your body from behind as he makes you ride him, facing away from him.

taerae couldn't control himself when you intentionally wore his favourite pink panties. and to tease you back, he rubs his cock all over the pretty fabric but never putting it in... even as you grew wetter and wetter.

ricky loved you a lot but he loved your pussy more. when he fingers you : starting gentle before he picks up the pace and once he finds that sweet spot, he keeps on rubbing it until you come apart.

gyuvin couldn't even wait and so, he pushed your panties to the side and fucked your pussy even through your orgasm.

gunwook hates it when people underestimate him, especially his cute gf. so to prove himself—he fingers you, while his other hand is busy tweaking and rubbing your nipple between his fingers. all the while you try your best not to move as per the bet.

[fanbasetwo]

✦ NOT SO LONELY NIGHTS ┊ EUNSEOK

001. PAIRING , bf ! eunseok × afab reader

002. SYNOPSIS , you can't help but want to stay closer to your boyfriend even when the electricity goes off.

003. GENRE , fluff, drabble.

004. WORD COUNT , 570.

— RIIZE MASTERLIST

“Eunseok,” you whispered softly, nudging him as the room suddenly plunged into darkness, the sound of the thunderstorm raging outside filling the air.

He stirred, his voice groggy but tender. “Did the power go out again?” He couldn't see you, but he could hear the faint worry in your voice.

“Yeah...” you mumbled, your fingers clutching the edge of his shirt.

He shifted closer, his warmth instantly wrapping around you like a protective cocoon. “Are you scared?” His voice was soft, and before you could answer, he slipped an arm around your waist, pulling you snug against his chest. The faint scent of him and the steady rhythm of his breathing were enough to calm your nerves.

“Not when I'm with you,” you murmured, burying your face in the safety of his embrace, your forehead pressed against his heartbeat. The storm outside seemed distant now, and the darkness wasn't so overwhelming.

His fingers brushed through your hair soothingly, his lips grazing the top of your head. “I'm not going anywhere, okay?” he whispered, his voice a gentle promise. In his arms, the storm could rage on, but all you felt was his warmth, his presence, and the peace that came with it.

As the storm rumbled outside, you felt the tension in your body slowly dissolve in Eunseok’s embrace. His arm tightened around you, anchoring you against him, and you could feel the reassuring thump of his heart beneath your cheek.

“Do you want to move a bit?” he suggested softly, a hint of a smile in his voice. “I think we'd both feel better if we were a little closer.”

With a gentle tug, he shifted you both into a more comfortable position, your bodies nestled together like pieces of a puzzle. You turned slightly, facing him, and found his eyes glimmering in the faint light that flickered through the window.

“Perfect,” he whispered, his breath warm against your skin.

You settled into the curve of his body, feeling his warmth seep into you, making the chilly air outside seem like a distant memory. The weight of his arm across your shoulders felt like a protective shield, and you instinctively curled up closer, tucking your head under his chin.

“Is this okay?” he asked, his voice soft, as he adjusted his hold to make sure you were comfortable.

“More than okay,” you replied, feeling a wave of comfort wash over you. The rhythmic sound of his breathing began to lull you into a sense of serenity. You closed your eyes, feeling utterly safe in his arms.

With every passing moment, the storm outside became a mere backdrop to the warmth that enveloped you both. Eunseok brushed a lock of hair from your forehead and pressed a gentle kiss there, igniting a warmth that spread through your entire being.

“Just us against the world,” he murmured, and you couldn't help but smile at the thought. The chaos outside faded further away as you snuggled deeper into his embrace, both of you cocooned in a world where only comfort and warmth existed.

In that moment, it felt like the storm was a faraway whisper, and all that mattered was this closeness, this sense of belonging, and the gentle rise and fall of his chest beneath your cheek. Time slipped away as you both surrendered to the cozy cocoon of each other's presence, finding solace in the simplest act of being together.

© 2024, all rights reserved to fanbasetwo !

[fanbasetwo]

TIL DEATH DO US PART , RICKY

PAIRING: husband ! ricky × wife ! afab reader

SYNOPSIS: In an arranged marriage where sparks never flew, you finally chose divorce as the only path to freedom. But when your husband died in a sudden accident, life took an unexpected turn, binding you to a reality marked by guilt, grief, and the shadows of unfulfilled words. Now, you must navigate a world that holds him forever gone.

GENRE: fluff + angst

WARNING(S): not proofread, kissing, dirty jokes, a little bit suggestive, mentions of suicide and death, insecurities, mentions of pregnancy. lmk if I missed anything.

WORD COUNT: 16.2K

FEAT: JAY from ENHYPEN + some ocs

MASTERLIST !!

NOTE FROM SENA , this kinda flopped on my enha blog but I still wanted to reach more people, so here it is. an ricky version of the same fic, if you find ‘jake’ instead of ‘ricky’ in some paras please mention so that I can edit it out. hope you have fun reading this <3💗

DEAR RICKY,

I'm sorry, but I can't continue living like this. I'm leaving. Our marriage has become a constant battle, and I believe we're both suffering more by holding on than we would by letting go. I know neither of us wanted it to come to this, and I wish things were different. But deep down, I think we're better apart. I hope one day you'll understand.

With regret, Y/N.

TEARS BLURRED YOUR VISION AS YOU STARED AT THE CRUMBLED NOTE IN YOUR HAND—the one you had written to Ricky months ago. The one that now felt like a curse. Your hands shook as you traced the familiar words, guilt twisting your insides. I'm leaving. I'm sorry. He had never known the true weight of those words. And now he never would.

The police had found it in his pocket. They said he'd carried it with him, even after everything. Even when he... when he was gone.

You collapsed onto the couch, clutching the note like a lifeline, but it only felt like a reminder of how far you had pushed him. How much you had wanted out, and now, how deeply you regretted it. A year together, two lives constantly at odds, and it had ended in this way. A divorce that never came, an accident that did. You didn't want this, didn't want him gone, but now, all you had was this-regret, and a body that was too still in your bed to hold. The anger, the frustration of him being gone-it consumed you, ate at your soul.

Why couldn't you have waited?

You had hoped time apart would fix things, give you both breathing room. But he hadn't lived long enough for you to see the good you could have made of it. The guilt ate you alive, deeper than the frustration ever had. You tried to convince yourself it wasn't your fault, that you couldn't have known, but deep down, the truth stung. Your note had been his last reminder of your marriage. His last memory. He had carried your rejection right until the end.

Would things have been different if you hadn't written that letter?

The thought raked at your mind like shards of glass, shredding everything in its path. What if you had kept fighting for him, for the marriage? Would he have been here? Would you have learned to love him? Or would he still have left, still have been gone, no matter what?

Your thoughts flickered back to moments with him-so small, so easy to overlook. The way Ricky had rolled his eyes every time you'd scolded his niece Semi for spilling juice, or how he had tried to hide his smirk as he pretended to act innocent. The little things that used to irritate you, that you had never really appreciated until now.

You remembered the way he defended you against his relatives, his words sharp and protective as they made cruel comments about your body. They didn't understand, but Ricky did. He had always been there, not perfect but trying.

“She suits me well enough.”

The memory felt like a slap now, a cruel joke. You had spent so much time pushing him away, not seeing that he cared. You hadn't seen that he had tried.

“Why couldn't I have seen it?” You whispered to the empty room, curling up on the bed, pressing your face into the pillow. The tears soaked into the fabric, and the sobs wracked through you like a storm. Why was it only now, when he was gone, that you realized how much he had mattered?

You had never kissed him, never held him the way a wife should. You thought you had the luxury of time, but now you had nothing left but his memory. The memory of a man you barely knew but had somehow been the one constant in your life. How selfish of you to push him away. How stupid to think it was all about the fights, the annoyances, and not about the love you could have had.

“Please... Ricky. I'm sorry...”

The words escaped you as your sobs grew louder, choking your breath. Your body trembled with grief, the weight of regret pressing down on you until you couldn't breathe. If only you could undo it, go back and rewrite the note. If only you hadn't given up on him, on the marriage, on the chance for something more.

The room felt suffocating now, as though the walls were closing in around you. What now? you thought. There was no future with him anymore. No next step. No reconciliation.

Why had you waited so long to realize how much he meant to you?

You sank deeper into your pillow, tears soaking your face and your hair, wishing for the impossible: for him to walk through the door, to come back, to make everything okay again. But he wouldn't. He couldn't.

And all that was left was you. And the note.

YOUR MOTHER IN LAW’S HANDS TREMBLE AS SHE EXTENDS THE ANCESTRAL RING TOWARDS YOU, her eyes glistening with raw grief. The ring's delicate gold band catches the light, an unwanted reminder of everything Ricky represented—strength, love, an unfinished story.

“He wanted you to have this… but I never thought I’d give it to you now. Not like this,” she whispers, her voice breaking before dissolving into quiet sobs. The sound is so raw it scrapes at your heart. For a moment, the room feels unbearably small, closing in with the suffocating weight of shared loss.

You stare at the ring, fingers hovering uncertainly. The thought of accepting it feels like admitting he’s really gone. Yet, you know you can’t refuse it; Ricky’s wish, even unspoken now, feels sacred. You slip the ring onto your finger, a silent acknowledgment of the man you had once promised yourself to, a man you’ll never get the chance to truly know.

With a hesitant step forward, you place your hand on her shoulder, the touch meant to soothe but feeling fragile, as though it could shatter under the weight of her grief. The older woman leans into you, body racked with tremors as she buries her face in her hands. Her sobs rise and fall in uneven waves, echoing in the otherwise silent room.

“Please… don’t cry,” you whisper, your voice hoarse and cracking at the edges. The night had drained you, leaving your eyes dry yet still burning, poised for more tears that you no longer had the strength to shed.

Her grief pierces deeper. “He wouldn’t want to see you in pain,” you add, voice low, carrying the weight of a plea that even you don’t believe.

“I-I know,” she manages between sobs, her shoulders trembling. “But… he was so young, so full of life. It should’ve been me, not him. He barely started his life, and now…”

The room seems to warp under the heaviness of her words. You know she’s right. The unfairness of it all gnaws at you. But what would Ricky want? The question echoes in your mind, clawing for answers you wish you didn’t have to seek.

You close your eyes for a brief second, conjuring his face in your memory—the way his smile would sneak out when he thought you weren’t looking, the stubborn tilt of his chin when he was determined. You imagine him here, telling you what to do, how to be strong for her when he couldn’t be.

Drawing in a shaking breath, you shift, wrapping your arms around your mother-in-law. She stiffens for a heartbeat before collapsing into the embrace, her body convulsing with grief. Her head rests on your shoulder, and you stroke her back, the gesture rhythmic, almost desperate, as if the act itself could soothe the unsoothable.

“My poor boy… he must’ve been so scared, so alone in those final moments,” she chokes out, and it’s as if a knife twists in your chest. The image of him in pain, of his last moments, blurs the edges of your control. A tear slips down your cheek, a singular escape among the multitude waiting behind your lashes.

“I’m so sorry, Ricky,” you whisper, barely audible. The guilt is relentless, intertwining with the ache of loneliness that had settled deep within you long before he passed. You were alone when he was alive, and now that emptiness has transformed, sharpened by grief, into something more unbearable.

Her sobs quiet, just enough for her to lift her head and take in your expression, your tears mingling with unsaid words. She studies you, eyes clouded by grief but touched with understanding.

“You must feel so alone too… You and Ricky… barely had time,” she murmurs, her voice a weak echo of empathy.

The silence stretches, heavy and uncertain. You meet her gaze and see the exhaustion, the pain mirrored back at you. It anchors you for a moment, before she speaks again.

“You’re still young. You should think of moving forward one day. Remarry, maybe… You’ll always be like a daughter to me, but you have to live, too.”

Your heart clenches, rejecting the thought. You don’t want to. The ache of wanting Ricky, even in a marriage that had felt distant, is a raw wound you can’t imagine healing. The loneliness was familiar; life without him is uncharted, unbearable.

“I won’t… I can’t,” you admit, voice shaking as the tears finally spill, unchecked. “I just want him back. Even if it means being lonely again.”

The words break you open, and this time, neither of you tries to stop the crying. You hold each other in the ruins of shared loss, hoping, against hope, that the pieces of your shattered hearts will one day feel less sharp.

YOUR HANDS CHILLED FROM THE BRISK AIR, DIG DEEPER INTO YOUR COAT POCKETS AS YOU GAZE OUT INTO THE SWIRLING SNOW, a faint numbness settling in your bones. Each snowflake that brushes against your cheek feels colder than the last, a physical reminder of the frost that’s taken root in your heart, a void Ricky's absence left behind. Life has lost its rhythm, its purpose, and the bustling world seems foreign, moving on a beat you no longer recognize.

Nursing, once a passion that filled your heart, now feels suffocating. The once-simple act of caring for patients, seeing them through their darkest times, now stirs something darker inside you—an envy for their hope, their chances. These creeping, bitter thoughts had scared you enough to step back from the only profession you knew. The faces of crying relatives haunted your dreams, their grief striking chords too familiar, too close. You’d sworn to heal, never harm, yet here you are, carrying shadows of guilt too heavy to bear.

The café’s warmth hits you as you push through the door, a momentary comfort against the gnawing cold. You shuffle forward, fingers fumbling in your pocket for money as your eyes wander the room. Ricky had always spoken fondly of this place, a little corner shop with its cozy mismatched chairs and the sweet aroma of cocoa and baked pastries. A small pang clenches your chest, regret whispering its usual 'what ifs.' If only you’d agreed to visit here with him, if only time hadn’t been a cruel master.

The barista, a young woman with weary eyes, glances up as she speaks. “Ma’am, are you ordering?” Her voice, though polite, carries a slight impatience with the growing line behind you.

“Ah, yes… a cold coffee,” you manage, the words falling flat as if they don’t quite belong to you. Her brows lift, a flicker of confusion.

“In this weather?” she asks, a hint of genuine concern lacing her tone.

Realizing the absurdity, you swallow, forcing a small, resigned nod. “Hot chocolate then,” you say, the warmth of Ricky’s recommendation tugging at the edges of your memory.

The exchange is brief, the hot drink pressed into your hands a minute later. As you turn to leave, the weight of the ancestral ring around your finger pulls at you, its cool surface grounding and yet suffocating. The bittersweet metal reflects a dull glow, a silent reminder of promises made and broken, of the love lost and the void left behind.

The wind picks up outside, tugging at your coat as you sip the hot chocolate. Its warmth spreads through you, but it’s fleeting, never enough to touch the ache within. You shake your head, Ricky’s face vivid in your mind, his teasing smile as he’d planned your future dates. You’d push the thought aside, but every step feels like dragging a part of him behind you.

“Why can’t I let go?” you murmur, voice snatched away by the icy air. Your brother-in-law’s words echo in your mind, urging you to stop living in Ricky’s shadow. But how do you tear yourself away from the ghost of a love that never got to finish its story?

Snow clings to your coat as you continue to trudge through the city, each step heavy with an ache that refuses to fade. The glow of the streetlights bathes the snow in a warm, golden hue, contrasting the bitter chill that settles in your chest. Sipping the hot chocolate, you try to focus on the warmth sliding down your throat, but the sweetness only sharpens the emptiness inside. The steam curls from the cup, a fleeting comfort as your breath mingles with it in the frigid air.

You pause near a park bench, eyes darting to couples bundled up, their laughter piercing through the quiet snowfall. One couple stands close, the man adjusting the scarf around his partner’s neck with a smile that makes your heart clench. You bite the inside of your cheek, the taste of copper sharp on your tongue as you fight back the sting in your eyes. The jealousy gnaws at you, sour and uninvited.

The memory of Ricky’s voice flits through your mind, warm and teasing: “Good things happen to good people.” You scoff, the bitterness in that statement now a cruel joke. Were you not good enough? The universe seemed to think so, because it had ripped him away, leaving a hollow shell in his place.

Lost in thought, you find yourself on the bridge, fingers trailing over the iron railing that has frosted over, leaving cool streaks on your gloves. This place, once so filled with light and memories, feels haunted now. You trace a path where your and Ricky’s hands once met, where laughter and shared secrets once echoed.

A voice, small and familiar, intrudes on your thoughts. Semi’s question echoes, fragile and innocent: “Aunty, when will Uncle come home?” You close your eyes, the lump in your throat thickening as the memory sharpens. You remember her wide, unknowing eyes searching yours for an answer you couldn't give, the guilt of that half-truth searing into you as you whispered, “I’m not sure, sweetie.”

You grip the railing tighter, feeling the cold seep through your gloves as the ache of regret claws at your heart. The river below moves steadily, unaffected by the chaos in your chest. You look down, watching the water catch the light in rippling patterns, your reflection distorted and wavering. The noise of the city fades as you breathe in the freezing air, each exhale a shuddering attempt to steady yourself.

A gust of wind stings your face, and you force yourself to look up, straightening with a resolve that feels fragile. Ricky’s brother and his wife were inside your apartment, their watchful eyes filled with concern disguised as casual chatter. You know why they stay—it’s not out of pity, but out of fear, a silent agreement to keep you tethered when your world felt like it was splitting at the seams.

The laughter from the park drifts over again, mingling with the hum of distant traffic. For a moment, you let yourself remember the warmth of Ricky’s embrace, the way he’d nudge your shoulder and murmur, “Life doesn’t stop, even when we want it to.”

“Maybe it shouldn’t,” you whisper into the night, the words barely a breath as they dissolve in the chill.

The warmth of the hot chocolate fades as the biting wind grazes your skin, a cruel reminder of the numbing void left behind. You stare at the bridge, eyes tracing the railings where Ricky’s laughter once echoed. A memory surfaces, unbidden yet vivid.

“I know this isn't what either of us planned, but... I wish we could work it out,” Ricky had said, a touch of hesitation softening his confident voice. His hands, hesitant but steady, hovered near you, respecting the space you held between.

“I wish that too,” you had murmured, the lie sliding off your tongue too easily. You’d convinced yourself you didn't care enough for Ricky then, but the pang of that memory now gnawed at your insides. Regret had a way of reshaping the past, twisting even the most indifferent moments into sharp blades.

“Tell me something about yourself,” Ricky had prodded gently, eyes bright even as he leaned down to meet your gaze.

Caught off guard, you’d raised an eyebrow. “Like what?” The question felt foreign, untouched by anyone's curiosity until now.

“Your ideal type,” he said, the corner of his mouth lifting as though challenging you. His height had always made you tilt your head back to catch his expression—a detail that now felt like a cruel nostalgia.

“Why would you ask that?” You'd played along, teasing but curious.

Ricky chuckled, the sound resonant and warm. “Because we're getting married, and maybe knowing each other better will make it feel less... strange. Maybe, just maybe, we'll fall in love.” His hand, finally settling on your shoulder, had felt reassuring, a silent promise in its touch.

The memory cleaves through you like a knife, leaving behind a raw wound that no time or distance can heal. A single tear slips down your cheek as you blink, the reality of the moment washing over you like a wave. The park across the street bustles with couples walking hand-in-hand, laughter and warmth breaking through the cold that wraps around you. A fresh ache takes root, sharp and relentless.

You drop the empty cup into the trash can, the metallic clang breaking your reverie. The grief, heavy and suffocating, presses you to the edge as you turn and begin the long walk home. Your footsteps are heavy, every step an effort against the pull of the past.

“Aunty, you're so late. Did you bring Uncle with you?” Semi’s small voice meets you at the door, eyes bright with innocent hope. The guilt hits you like a punch, stealing the air from your lungs. Your throat tightens as you shake your head, eyes avoiding her searching gaze.

Jieun, seeing your reaction, sighs softly as she pulls Semi closer. “Semi, we talked about this, remember?” Her voice holds the practiced patience of a mother trying to shield her child from the pain.

“I’m sorry, Mom,” Semi mumbles, eyes dropping to her tiny hands that fidget nervously. The sight twists your heart, guilt layering over the grief that refuses to ease.

You force a hollow smile. “It’s okay, Jieun. She's just a kid,” you say, your voice low and void of emotion as you shrug off your winter coat and hang it up. The familiar routine feels like a play you no longer wish to act in.

“Still, I just—” Jieun’s words falter as you cut her off, your voice breaking the tension.

“Please,” you murmur, the word sharp and desperate, silencing the room. The stillness that follows is suffocating, your breaths shallow as you fight to keep your composure.

Jieun's eyes search yours, understanding but hesitant. “We just don’t want you to be alone,” she whispers, her voice thick with worry.

“I know,” you reply, sitting on the couch with your head hung low, hands clenched tightly in your lap. After a long pause, you add, “But you need to leave. This is your home too, but you have your own life to get back to. I need time... time to figure out how to grieve.” Your eyes don’t lift to meet theirs; you can’t bear to see the disappointment or concern there.

Semi’s voice pipes up again, the innocence piercing through your defenses. “Are you sending us away, Aunty?”

The weight of guilt deepens, pressing into your chest. You close your eyes, feeling the sting behind your lids before you answer. “No, sweetie, I’m not sending you away. You can come whenever you want. Aunty will always be here.” The words come out flat, and you feel them land like lies in the air between you.

Jieun picks Semi up, nodding at you as if she understands, though her eyes glisten with worry. “We’ll give you some space. But we’ll check in. Don’t forget that, please.”

When the door clicks shut, silence wraps around you, heavy and thick. Your gaze shifts to the note you’d prepared earlier, sitting on the edge of the coffee table. The words, written in your own hand, feel foreign now: apologies to the people who stayed, memories they never knew you held, and the final confession of a heart too weary to go on.

You were battling with the urge to just end it all.

The rational part of your brain told you that you were young and had your whole life ahead and that you'd meet a lot of guys in your life but the stubborn heart won't give up and held onto the memory of the guy you once called your husband.

So, you gave up.

A smile, then another.

The city glows beneath you, lights sprawled like constellations cast on earth. The wind at this height is sharp, tearing through your clothes and chilling your skin, as if trying to pull you back from the edge. Your shoes scrape against the concrete ledge, the slight tremble in your legs betraying the battle waging within. The night air smells faintly of rain, metallic and crisp, mingling with the faint hum of traffic below.

You steady your phone in your trembling hand, its cold surface grounding you momentarily. A notification pings, an ironic reminder that life continues to tick on, indifferent to the turmoil within you. The camera lens reflects the shimmer of unshed tears as you hit record, the small red dot staring back like a silent witness.

A smile forms—hesitant, broken. Then another, and another, each one a mask that crumbles too soon. “To everyone who still cares,” you begin, your voice low and cracking, “Semi, sweet, innocent Semi. Jieun, always so patient. Jay... my husband’s shadow in every way. My sister, my friends, all of you who tried.”

The wind picks up, whipping strands of hair across your face as you pause, the weight of the unsaid pressing on your chest. You blink rapidly, tears slipping free, their warmth stinging against your cold cheeks. “Ricky wouldn't want this. I know he'd call me stubborn, weak even.” You let out a hollow laugh, the sound swallowed by the wind. “But he wouldn’t understand how loud it is in the silence he left behind.”

Your heart hammers as you shift your weight, the city seeming to inhale with you, holding its breath in anticipation. The edge of the building digs into the soles of your feet, the space between you and the world below both terrifying and liberating.

“I miss the little moments, Ricky,” you whisper, voice breaking as you squeeze your eyes shut. “I miss you making me feel lonely, and now... now I’m lonelier without you.” The ache in your chest is unbearable, a cavernous void that steals your breath.

One last deep breath, air burning through your lungs, and you step forward. The world blurs into a rush of sound and sensation—wind roaring in your ears, your body weightless, suspended in a moment between despair and peace.

And then the fall hits.

Pain surges through you, sharp and overwhelming, before darkness takes over. Around you, the chaos erupts into a cacophony—screams, the frantic pounding of feet, and the sharp cry of ambulance sirens slicing through the night. But these sounds are drifting away, becoming faint murmurs from a world slipping out of reach.

Silence wraps around you, one that made you feel like everything would be okay after this. Maybe, just maybe, peace waits on the other side. In death.

YOU WALK THROUGH THE DENSE, MILKY FOG, EACH REVERBERATING IN AN ECHO THAT NEVER QUITE SETTLES. The air is cool, feather-light, whispering like distant memories. Is this heaven? The question circles in your mind, unspoken. If it is, where is Ricky? A quiet laugh escapes your lips, hollow. He couldn’t have done enough wrong to land in hell, you think, the hint of humor biting through your longing. Yet, the anticipation twists your heart—an ache that makes you want to see him so desperately.

You try to call out, “Ricky?” but the sound stays trapped in your chest, choked by the thick fog. Another step forward and there’s nothing but endless white, stretching out, swallowing you whole. Your breath catches; suddenly, the air thins, compressing your lungs, squeezing out every ounce of oxygen. You gasp, your hands clawing at the invisible force stealing your breath. It feels like drowning in emptiness.

Then—without warning—everything shifts. White light erupts around you, blinding and all-consuming. You brace for oblivion, muscles tensing for an end you’re sure is near. But instead, there’s a softness beneath you—a mattress that cradles you like an embrace you forgot.

Your eyes snap open, pupils adjusting to the familiar pale ceiling. It’s your ceiling. Your shared room. The bed, the faint scent of Ricky’s cologne still lingering in the sheets, as if he just left. You sit up, heart thundering, hands brushing over your body frantically. No pain, no bruises, no broken bones—nothing. You’re whole, intact.

Then the realization hits you like cold water, and your fingers tremble as you pull them away.

“What the…?” you murmur, eyes darting around, seeking answers that the silent room won’t give. Your gaze falls to the phone on the bedside table, its screen blank and mocking in its stillness. You grab it, breath hitching as the time blinks to life.

January 29th, 2024. 6:30 a.m.

A shiver races down your spine. The date stares back at you, sharp and impossible. You set the phone down, legs feeling weak as you stand and approach the mirror. Your reflection isn’t that of a woman who has been weeping endlessly. Your eyes, dry and wide, reflect confusion rather than the storm of emotions that you carry.

“Is this one of those flashes they say you see before death?” Your voice trembles as the words escape, and you reach up to touch the cold glass. The girl looking back at you does the same, fingers meeting yours in a silent plea.

Then, your eyes catch it. The blue gel pen resting on the dresser—a pen that has no place outside your drawer. It’s a small thing, but the sight of it makes your breath hitch. Memories slice through you, sharp and unforgiving. That pen was the one you’d used for the note to Ricky, the one that demanded space, an end.

“No,” you breathe out, shaking your head, bile rising in your throat. The pen feels like a cruel token, mocking you for what came after. In a swift motion, you snatch it up, the cold plastic biting into your skin as you grip it tight. The weight of your guilt, your regret, turns your stomach, and with a sudden burst of anger, you hurl the pen into the trash, its clatter punctuating the silence like a final plea.

Chest heaving, you close your eyes. If this is some kind of twisted second chance, you don’t know if you should feel terror or relief. But the room, the sheets, the absence on the other side of the bed—everything points to one impossible truth.

You’re back.

But this isn't a romance novel, is it?

Your eyes trail back to the empty bed, where Ricky should be. “Ricky?” The name falls from your lips, hopeful, trembling, but the silence stretches on, suffocating.

Your heart thuds like a wild drumbeat, erratic and desperate, the rhythm matched only by the single hope that propels you forward: seeing Ricky. Alive. Healthy. Breathing.

You practically jog out of the shared bedroom, your bare feet sliding slightly on the hardwood floor as you turn the corner. The guest room door is ajar, a sliver of dim light illuminating the narrow hallway. The pulse in your chest quickens, breaths shallower with each step until you reach the threshold. You pause, drawing in a trembling breath before stepping inside.

There he is. Ricky. Lying on his side, dark hair fanned messily over the pillow, the soft rise and fall of his chest hypnotic in its simplicity. Relief washes over you so powerfully that your knees almost buckle. You inch closer, careful not to make a sound. The blanket is snug around his torso, exposing his bare, muscular chest—the way he prefers when he’s alone. Your throat tightens at the sight, familiar yet so foreign now.

Your hand, almost on its own accord, hovers over his face, fingers trembling as you place them under his nose. The soft, warm breath that meets your touch is enough to sting your eyes with unshed tears. Your hand drifts down, resting against his chest, where you can feel the steady thrum of his heartbeat—a rhythm you thought you’d never sense again.

Ricky stirs, the sudden shift pulling you out of your trance. His eyelids flutter open, dark eyes glazed with sleep but sharpening as they land on you. He blinks once, then again, brows drawing together.

“What are you doing?” His voice, rough with sleep, carries a note of confusion that makes your hand fall away as though burned.

“I-I…” The words snag in your throat, scrambling to make sense of the madness. How could you possibly explain? Your eyes dart nervously to the floor, heat searing your cheeks as you mutter, “I missed your kisses.”

The room freezes. You can feel the weight of his gaze, heavy with disbelief. He shifts, sitting up, and the blanket slips down to his waist, revealing the sharp lines of his torso. Your eyes betray you, flickering over the familiar planes before darting away in embarrassment.

“But… we never kiss,” he says, voice low and edged with confusion. The statement slices through you, painfully reminding you of the distance you both had grown used to.

“I know... I...” you whisper, fingers clenching into fists at your sides. The silence stretches, heavy, until the sharp trill of his phone alarm shatters it. Ricky’s attention shifts, eyes narrowing as he leans to silence it. When he looks up again, the space where you stood is empty.

You rush back to your room, shutting the door behind you with a soft thud, heart hammering in your chest. Sliding down until you sit with your back pressed against the cool wood, you cover your flushed face with shaking hands. Your pulse thunders in your ears, mixing with the replay of his sleepy voice, the fleeting touch of his warmth.

Is this really the past? The question festers, tugging at the edges of logic, but the ache in your chest and the rawness of your emotions tell you it is. And if so, this year holds one horrifying certainty: Ricky’s death.

The mere thought twists something deep inside you, bringing back the soul-crushing grief, the endless nights of regret. You glance down at your wrist, breath catching as your eyes lock on the ink-black date that marks it: November 4th. The day Ricky dies.

Frantically, you rub at the skin, as if the stubborn mark will simply smudge away under your touch. But it doesn’t. The date remains, stark and immovable, taunting you.

A shiver crawls up your spine, but then a thought—a glimmer of defiance—roots itself.

What if you change it? What if this was given to you, not as a cruel joke, but a chance to rewrite what went so terribly wrong? To love him in a way you never did and save him from the fate that once tore your entire world apart.

“I can do this,” you whisper, determination threading into your voice. The regret may have once paralyzed you, but now it fuels you. If you only have until that date, then every second will be spent fighting fate, no matter how impossible it seems.

THE SOFT MURMUR OF THE COUPLE’S CONVERSATION DRIFTS DOWN THE STERILE HOSPITAL CORRIDOR, brushing against your ears like a whispered secret. The woman lies propped against crisp white pillows, her leg encased in a cast, eyes fixed on her partner with a blend of exhaustion and comfort. He leans forward, fingers interlaced with hers, voice low and tender.

“Can you please see what's wrong?” he asks, eyes glistening with concern. He gently squeezes her hand, words spilling out as quiet reassurances. “You're doing so well, love. It's going to be okay.”

A tight warmth coils in your chest as you approach, a familiar pang of bittersweetness shadowing the sight. The love, the unwavering devotion-it's moments like these that remind you why you cherish your job. The fragility of life, held together by threads of connection, has always moved you, even when those threads unraveled in your own life.

When you started nursing, blood was your greatest fear, the sight once enough to turn your stomach. Time had softened those edges, transforming anxiety into steady resolve. It was also during those early years when you married Ricky, the man whose smile was warm enough to banish shadows but whose presence now only haunted your memories. The marriage had lasted five years before everything shattered with the crash.

No. Stop. The thought rushes at you like a wave, cold and suffocating. You grit your teeth, eyes burning as you push it down, push him down, refusing to let the grief claw at you. He's alive here, in this fragile present you've been thrust into. Don't let the past bleed into now.

“Sure,” you say softly, the practiced smile you wear settling on your face. You reach out, fingers moving gently over the girl's cast, checking the edges, ensuring everything is as it should be. She nods in silent gratitude, eyes fluttering shut with relief as her partner exhales.

The end of your shift arrives with the deep hues of twilight stretching across the sky. The drive home is long, punctuated by the soft rumble of the engine and the anxious thrum of your thoughts. Your fingers drum against the steering wheel, tapping out a nervous rhythm. Avoid home, your mind suggests, listing off a million errands you suddenly think of, any excuse to delay the inevitable.

But the excuses run dry when you're standing in front of your door, keys cold against your palm. The air outside is crisp, biting at your cheeks as you draw a deep breath and hold it. The weight of the morning—Ricky’s sleepy, questioning eyes and the ghost of your impulsive words-hangs between you and the door.

“Is it too late to back down?” The whisper escapes your lips, trembling in the chilly silence. You picture his expression, the puzzled furrow of his brow as he replayed your words. The way his fingers brushed over his phone, gaze lifted just in time to see you flee. He isn't stupid. Ricky never was.

With a sigh, you slip the key into the lock, the click loud and final. The door opens, and warmth spills out to meet you, along with the faint scent of his cologne. Your pulse quickens as you step inside, the hum of your heartbeat louder than the quiet creak of the floor under your weight.

Don't run, you tell yourself, even as the urge coils tight in your muscles. You close the door behind you.

As you push open the front door, the faint glow of the television casts flickering shadows across the living room. There he is-your husband, Ricky, reclined on the couch, eyes fixed intently on the news. His brows knit slightly as a montage of suited politicians gestures on screen, their voices droning promises as hollow as a whisper in the wind.

He is basically watching those politicians give some weird and untrue promises for the sake of votes.

How romantic. How normal. The bitter thought twists in your chest. But it isn't. Nothing about this is normal. Why would he be watching the news, of all things? Then, a pang of irony hits you like a wave. How hypocritical, you think. You promised Ricky your forever in a ceremony that now feels like an echo. The vows shared between you had been spoken out loud but never truly lived.

You shake the memory away, an old wound you refuse to pick at as you step inside, the floor cool under your feet. Ricky doesn't notice you at first, his attention locked on the screen, oblivious to the fact that the person who left him a note asking for space now stands in the doorway, wrestling with the tension roiling inside her.

“Hey,” you finally say, the word falling between you like an anchor. It comes out awkward, unsure, a fragile hope that he won't read too much into it. But Ricky's eyes flick to yours, a spark of recognition cooling to something unreadable.

“You're back home?” His voice is measured, neither warm nor cold, but there's a tightness to it that you can't ignore. He shifts, the blue glow of the screen catching the sharp line of his jaw as he waits for your response.

The note. You had slipped it into his hand, asking for a break from a marriage four years deep but hollow. Your heart thuds in your chest, fingers clenched at your side as you speak before fear can pull the words back.

“The note-I take it back. I don't want a break from you or this relationship, Ricky.”

The silence that follows is heavy, broken only by the low hum of the news anchor's voice. His eyes search yours, a hint of disbelief darkening the warm brown you once memorized. “Why?” The question slices through the quiet, clipped and cautious. You almost flinch at the hardness there, a wall built brick by brick in your absence.

“Because I don't want to stay away from you.” Your voice trembles, raw honesty exposed between you like an open wound. Ricky's eyes widen slightly, the stoic mask cracking as a flush creeps across his cheeks.

“Y-You're blushing?” The soft, astonished laugh tumbles out of you, a momentary break in the storm that makes you feel like you're standing on the edge of something new. The corners of his mouth twitch, the faintest sign of a smile, but he shakes his head.

“Sure, sir. You're just cold.” You chuckle, sinking onto the floor beside the couch, knees drawn up as you hug them close. The laughter is sharp, almost giddy, the sound foreign in the room that has held so many silences.

Ricky watches you, confusion settling into his features, the red on his cheeks fading as he leans forward, elbows on his knees. “You're acting weird,” he murmurs, the words half swallowed, uncertain.

“How am I acting weird if I'm seeing my husband show some attraction to me, which isn't platonic, for the first time?” The jest slips out, tinged with sincerity, but it brings a hush over both of you. The truth stands stark between you, glaring and painful. For a moment, neither of you speak, each of you weighed down by memories, by the heavy knowledge of what's been lost and what still aches to be found.

But determination flares in your chest, a stubborn warmth. So what if love had been absent before? So what if promises were half-kept and hearts guarded? You could start again. You could relearn how to be two flawed people willing to try. Your gaze meets Ricky's, the hope in your eyes unyielding.

Don't let go, you silently plead. Let this be the start of something real.

Ricky clears his throat, a subtle attempt to dissolve the tension settling over the living room like a blanket too heavy to lift. His fingers fidget, running nervously over the seam of the couch as he shifts his gaze downward. There you are, still seated on the floor, legs tucked to one side, eyes catching the soft glow from the TV. Cute, he thinks, the word rolling silently through his mind, too heavy with unsaid truths to speak aloud.

“So...” The word escapes him, thin and unfinished, hovering in the air. His eyes flit over your face, searching for a reaction. The awkwardness clings to the silence, but you don't falter.

“So?” you echo, your tone a notch steadier, holding the slight tremor that betrays your effort. You lean forward just slightly, a gesture that feels braver than it is. If courage could rewrite fate, you'd wield it now, not just for yourself, but for him. For Ricky, who might not know the sharp edge of reality that's cut you.

He rubs the back of his neck, glancing to the side where the blue light paints his profile in soft, wavering lines. “You know... Semi's birthday is next week.” His words stumble, trailing off as if second-guessing their own existence. But you aren't in the dark. You know exactly what this moment leads to.

“Yes, I'd love to go shopping for gifts for her,” you respond, your voice quick and practiced. His eyes widen, caught off guard, the surprise stark against his usual composed expression. The tension in his jaw slackens, and he blinks, unsure if he heard you right.

“Excuse me?” He stares at you, the faint crease between his brows deepening.

“Isn't that what you were about to ask?” You tilt your head slightly, a small smile playing at your lips, testing him. He hesitates, realizing that denial means trouble, but his face softens into a relieved kind of acceptance.

“No, no... of course. You could... accompany me to shop for Semi's birthday presents.” His voice picks up, the uncertainty lifting as he finds the path back to normalcy. He notices your smile widening, the tension slipping just enough to let him breathe.

“Okay then, see you tomorrow, husband.” The word slips from you, unbidden, laced with a warmth that surprises even you as you turn on your heel. You make your way toward the guest room, feet padding softly against the floor. Ricky's brows knit again, eyes following your form until you pause, hand on the frame of the doorway.

“Why are you heading to the guest room?” His question is quick, a thread of confusion laced with something else-something vulnerable.

“Because we sleep apart, and I wouldn't want my husband's back to break on that stiff, rough bed. The sheets aren't even comfortable,” you say, voice light but with an edge that dares him to react. You step into the room, but glance over your shoulder with eyes that glimmer, a playful smirk pulling at your lips. “Besides, I'd rather you break your back or get tired doing me than struggling on a bed.”

His jaw drops, eyes wide with stunned silence as the door closes between you. Ricky sits back, eyes fixed on the now-empty hallway, replaying the moment in disbelief. The wife who barely spoke above a whisper at their wedding, who tiptoed through years of silence, had just turned the tables with a single teasing line. His pulse hammers beneath the stillness.

What on earth just happened?

“ARE YOU TELLING ME Y/N JUST TURNED INTO A COMPLETELY DIFFERENT PERSON?” Jay's voice, casual yet curious, echoes through the phone. He's speaking to Ricky, who shifts from foot to foot, eyes glancing around the boutique as he waits for you to finish picking out a dress for his niece. The sound of soft music drifts around him, mixing with murmurs of other shoppers.

“Exactly that!” Ricky’s voice comes out louder than intended, drawing looks from the store's staff. A woman in a sleek uniform, brows raised in disapproval, approaches with a pointed glare.

“Sir, please keep your voice down or refrain from talking altogether,” she says, sternly but professional.

Ricky's ears burn as embarrassment blooms across his face. “Yeah, I'm sorry” he mutters, running a hand through his hair.

Through the phone, Jay's laughter rings clear and unapologetic. “You seriously got told off by staff? Man, you're killing me!” Jay's chuckles fade into a smirk that Ricky can practically hear. Jay's the same as he's always been-playful, relentless, the older brother who teases but listens when it counts.

“Fine, fine, I'll stop. Tell me what you mean by Y/N changing, just... keep it PG, will you?” Jay's tone is teasing, but curiosity laces through.

Ricky’s jaw tightens, eyes scanning the store for you as if your sudden return would put him on the spot. “There's nothing intimate going on between us,” he blurts, the words a knee-jerk reaction. His chest tightens with the memory of you resting your hand on him in your sleep last week, the way warmth had crept through him then. He clears his throat. “I mean, she's talking to me more, being... sweet. She listens. It's almost... submissive.”

“I told you, no bedroom details!” Jay chimes in, sarcasm sharp enough to make Ricky's teeth clench.

“THIS IS NOT A BEDROOM DETAIL!!!” Ricky retorts, frustration coloring his tone. It earns him another hard look from the store associate across the room, who pointedly glances over her glasses. Ricky sighs and mouths an apology again, shoulders drooping as he lowers his voice.

“What I mean is, she's more... attentive. She's not arguing as much. It's like she's listening to me for the first time.”

Jay's voice softens, just a hint of seriousness slipping through. “Isn't that how she always is with others?”

“Yeah, with everyone else. Just not with me,” Ricky admits, the admission heavy with a history neither of them mention.

“Interesting.” Jay's reply is contemplative, but before he can say more, Ricky's voice interrupts, distorted through the line. “Oh shoot, she's coming back. I'll call you later.”

As the call ends, Ricky pockets his phone, glancing up just in time to see you walking back with a smile. Jay, on the other side of the city, sets his phone down, a smirk playing at his lips as he thinks of sharing this tidbit with his wife later. Whatever was happening between his brother and sister-in-law, it was about to get even more intriguing.

On the other side, Ricky stands, a mixture of amusement and curiosity on his face as you hold up a tiny pink dress. It's perfectly frilly, fit for a little girl. But all he can think is how charming it would look in a size for you—a thought that makes him shake his head, realizing how ridiculous it sounds.

“So, what do you think? Should I get this for Semi?” you ask, eyes sparkling with anticipation. There's already a growing collection of clothes for his niece in your arms, a reminder of how you've embraced being part of his family.

“Are you getting all of them?” he asks, more out of shock than judgment. He never imagined children's clothes could come with such hefty price tags.

“Yes, why? Is this too much? I can cover it if—”

Before you can finish, he interrupts, affronted. “I'll pay. It's for my lady, after all.”

The statement hangs in the air, not romantic as he'd intended but awkward, making your brows twitch slightly. You resist the urge to grimace, forcing a polite smile instead.

A staff member, the same one who had shushed Ricky earlier, walks over with an unimpressed expression, exchanging a silent, almost comic glare with him. She gave Ricky a look that said 'you're weird and I don't want to talk to you'

'what have I ever done to you' was the look that Ricky presented back to the staff before she looked away. You glance between them, slightly confused. Then Ricky clears his throat, moving the conversation forward.

“Do you have a similar dress in a bigger size?” His voice drops to almost a whisper. He feels self-conscious asking, but the idea has stuck.

The staff member blinks, taken aback. “Excuse me?” She tilts her head, uncertain if she heard right.

“Yeah, do you have something like this,” Ricky gestures at the dress in your hands, “but, you know, for an adult?” A flush of red creeps across his cheeks as he points to you. The staff member nods after a moment, walking off to search, while you stand there stunned, watching her go.

“Why are you buying something for me? Semi’s dress is already pricey. A woman's size will be—”

“It's just a dress,” he interrupts with a small sigh, eyes softening. “Think of it as a gift.”

“But today isn't anything special.”

“Maybe not. But I'd like to make it special,” he replies, voice lowering. “I haven't given you anything since our wedding. That was four years ago.” His words carry a quiet vulnerability as he looks at you, taller and more serious than you expect. You hold his gaze before shifting and mumbling a reluctant, “Fine,” looking away to hide the way your cheeks warm.

The staff returns holding a similar dress, but in an adult size. It's pink, short, and undeniably cute-something that looks a little too daring for your style.

“Will this do?” she asks.

“Absolutely not,” “hell yeah,” you and Ricky say in unison. The staff's eyebrows raise as she turns to you, sensing you as the more level-headed one.

“We're not buying it,” you insist, giving Ricky a look.

He doubles down. “We are.”

“Ricky, no.”

“Why not?”

“It's too short!” you argue, exasperated. He shrugs, eyes softening as he counters, “It's knee-length. That's normal.”

With a dramatic sigh, you roll your eyes and give in. But you don't try it on in the store; the idea of wearing it in front of him makes your heart thud with a mix of nerves and embarrassment. After all, you've barely even shared a bed in weeks—how could you possibly show him a dress like that now?

RICKY’S HEART STOPS FOR A MOMENT AS HE TAKES IN THE SIGHT BEFORE HIM. You, standing in the baby pink dress that hugs your figure just right, with its soft fabric brushing just above your knees. The playful, shy smile you wear as you twirl slightly sends a wave of warmth through him. He never expected to see you like this; the reality strikes him so suddenly that it leaves him breathless.

The laughter of Semi fills the room as she runs around in her matching pink dress, giggling and pulling you along by the hand. The soft glow of the post-birthday celebration lights casts a golden hue, warming up the atmosphere in the living room. Ricky sits on the edge of the couch, one hand resting on his knee as he watches you and Semi, his gaze softening with an emotion he hasn't felt in what seems like ages.

A gentle nudge breaks his trance, and he turns to see his mother looking at him with raised brows and a hopeful gleam. “When are you two going to have kids?” she asks, her voice light but laced with longing.

The air in the room shifts. You pause mid-spin, eyes darting to Ricky with a look of surprise. This isn't part of the script of your past life; this question throws you off balance, the sudden attention making your heart race.

Ricky’s father, seated across with a glass of wine in his hand, lets out a dramatic sigh. “I think I'll be long gone before I see any grandchildren from this one,” he jokes, though the weight behind it is unmistakable. The statement slices through the room's cheerful mood, leaving an awkward silence in its wake. Ricky's jaw tightens, a subtle tension creeping up his spine. He wants kids too, he really does—but not in a house that feels as unstable as theirs has become.

Before he can respond, you surprise everyone, including yourself. “We're trying,” you say, the words slipping out with practiced ease, even as your pulse pounds. The room freezes, all eyes turning toward you in shock.

Ricky’s eyebrows lift in silent question, but he plays along, shifting to put on an unreadable expression. He nods, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at his lips as he covers the uncertainty boiling beneath. The room shifts back into a mixture of excitement and surprise.

“Is that true? You're both trying?” Ricky’s mother's eyes glisten, her hope rekindled as she looks between you and her son.

“Really?” Ricky's father echoes, leaning forward, his earlier sarcasm replaced by genuine interest.

Jay, standing near the fireplace, furrows his brow, lips parting in disbelief. Only last week, Ricky had confided in him about how distant and weird things had become between you two.

Ricky forces a chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah... we've been trying for a while.” The lie feels heavy in his mouth, and he shoots you a look that says, Why'd you lie about that?

Your sister-in-law, Jieun, raises her hand, pointing at you with wide eyes. “Since when?” she blurts out, unable to contain her shock.

Ricky stutters, “It's been a-a month,” the answer sounding rehearsed yet shaky. He glances at you again, his eyes pleading for an explanation that won't come.

The conversation quickly shifts into an excited buzz, with well-meaning wishes from your in-laws filling the air. You catch Ricky's gaze, and despite the tight-lipped smile you give the family, there's a flicker of humor in your eyes. The absurdity of it all makes you want to laugh.

You both know the truth: the notion of trying for a child is impossibly far from reality.

Heck, it was funny for you to watch.

You were still a virgin. You two didn't even kiss more than once in those four years and they expect a baby to suddenly pop out of you?

And once the party winds down, you find yourself sitting on the couch with Semi by your side. Her wide, curious eyes shine with excitement as she swings her legs back and forth. At just four years old, she's a bundle of endless questions and innocent wonder.

You smile, reaching over to gently ruffle her soft, dark hair. “Does the birthday girl like her dress?” you ask, voice playful.

Semi beams, glancing down at the pink ruffled dress with pride. “It's so pretty,” she chirps, then looks up at you with a thoughtful expression. “But yours is prettier. You always look pretty, Aunty.”

Your heart melts, and you chuckle softly. “Aww, you learned how to give compliments, huh?” you tease, watching as her cheeks turn rosy and she averts her gaze to fiddle with her fingers.

“Aunty!” she whines, wanting you to stop teasing. Her eyes sparkle with mischief as she leans in closer and motions for you to do the same. With a curious tilt of your head, you move closer, letting her whisper into your ear. “Will you eat a baby to have a baby?” she asks, voice so serious it makes you freeze for a moment.

You stifle a laugh, your eyes crinkling at the edges. Gently cupping her cheek, you whisper back, “No, sweetie. That's not how it works. But that's grown-up stuff, and we don't talk about it now, do we?”

Semi giggles, her little fingers playing with a toy she received from her grandmother. The sight makes your chest tighten in a bittersweet way. You can almost picture your mother-in-law doting on a future child, fussing over toys and tiny clothes. The thought sends a shiver down your spine, making you shake your head lightly as if to dispel the image.

But a small part of you can't help but smile at the idea, a blush rising to your cheeks. The dream is distant, almost unreachable, and not yet yours to claim.

When you and Ricky step out into the cold night, the air nips at your exposed legs below your knees. The dress he had picked out for you, delicate and pastel pink, offers little warmth, and the heels are beginning to pinch with every step. You trail behind him, taking careful, aching strides to avoid twisting your ankle.

Ricky notices, stopping suddenly to turn toward you, eyes scanning your shivering frame. “What’s wrong?” His gaze softens as he realizes how exposed you are, legs trembling from the chill. Without hesitating, he shrugs off his jacket and drapes it over your shoulders. The sudden warmth is welcome, but your teeth still chatter as you mutter, “Wish I had something covering my legs instead.”

He exhales, half exasperated, half amused, before a wry smile forms. “Should I carry you like a princess? You’d be warm then.”

Surprised, you bite back a retort, matching his teasing tone with confidence. “Maybe you should.”

Ricky’s eyebrows shoot up, stunned. “Wait, what?”

“Chill, I was just joking,” you mumble, looking down at the ground. But before you know it, he’s stopped again, this time dropping to one knee. Your eyes widen in shock. “WHAT THE HELL?” you blurt out, stepping back in reflex, heat rising to your cheeks at the unexpected gesture. (more so because you believed he was trying to look up your dress)

Ricky looks up, mildly annoyed but patient. “I’m helping you,” he says simply. Before you can argue, he pulls out a pair of slippers from a little carry bag he had brought from home. The realization hits, softening your expression as he glances up. “Lift your leg.”

You comply, feeling foolish for your earlier outburst. He slips the heels off your feet and replaces them with the soft slippers, careful and precise as if proving he has no ulterior motive. The chill in the air suddenly seems less biting.

“You had these the whole time?” you ask, voice softer now, eyes wide with realization. He places the heels into the carry bag, stands up, and meets your gaze with a smirk.

“Yeah. Thought you might need them,” he says, a hint of smugness in his tone. You’re about to thank him when he reminds you with a mock-accusing look, “And you were ready to accuse me of being a pervert.”

The memory makes you feel small, but you muster a sheepish, “Sorry.”

He shakes his head, a touch of amusement in his eyes as the two of you start walking again, your steps now confident and comfortable. His jacket around your shoulders holds a warmth that seems to seep straight to your heart.

“So...” Ricky’s voice cuts through the silence, the question you've been dreading finally arriving. “Why did you lie about... us trying for a baby?” His tone is cautious, probing.

You sigh, the answer already clear in your mind. “It was the only way to get them to stop bothering us,” you admit. A pause follows, your gaze flitting up to meet his. You don’t dare to say more, not with your secret burden looming—coming from a future where he is no longer alive and your mission is to keep him safe.

Ricky hums in agreement, the tension easing a bit. “I can’t argue with that.” A comfortable silence settles between you, only broken by the sound of your footsteps. He glances at you again and asks, “Are you hungry?”

As if on cue, your stomach grumbles. Relief flashes across his face before he reaches out, taking your hand and leading you forward. The two of you approach a small, tucked-away restaurant, its sign faded but familiar. Ricky’s eyes light up. “You have to try the cold coffee from that café across the street,” he points out, the fondness in his voice unmistakable.

You nod, memories flickering back. His odd, endearing preferences were things you never forgot. “Fish curry with plain rice and some shrimp on the side?” you guess, eyes twinkling with recognition.

Ricky’s head snaps to you, surprise clear as day. He stares, a laugh escaping him as he shakes his head. “Since when did you start memorizing my favorites?”

You had heard about his fav things to eat from your brother in law, Jay. But Ricky never said it to you himself so the boy was pretty much stunned when you literally memorised them, as if you were waiting to flex this whole time.

You offer a small, knowing smile. “I have my ways.”

The waiter arrives promptly with your orders, and the rich aroma fills the space between you and Ricky. He takes a bite, but pauses, eyes drifting to you with a soft, contemplative expression. “We’ve never done this before…” he murmurs, his tone a mix of realization and gentle amusement.

You tilt your head, savoring a piece of shrimp. “You mean this date?” you ask, half-smiling.

“Yeah. I guess that’s what I mean,” he replies, taking a moment before continuing, as if gathering the courage. “I like it. I like how we are now.” He takes a sip of water, and the way he watches you is tender, raw. His hand slides across the table to rest over yours, fingers warm against your skin.

“I don’t know what changed, but I…” He hesitates, eyes locking with yours, a profound intensity that silences you. “I like how we’re not avoiding each other anymore, how we talk instead of fighting over every little thing.”

The sincerity in his words pierces through you, tugging at memories of a future where his absence left a hollow ache in your chest. The pain you’d carried, the distance, the loss—all of it feels heavy in this moment, but now, something else unfurls within you. An unexpected warmth that swells as his thumb brushes over your knuckles.

He draws in a shaky breath. “I know I’m not perfect. I’ve made mistakes, maybe too many, and that’s why we kept drifting apart in those four years we were married. But I want us to stay like this. Is that too much to ask for?” His voice cracks, eyes glistening with unshed tears.

The depth of emotion he shows takes your breath away, and your vision blurs as your own tears spill over. The raw honesty in his confession reaches a part of you that had long been buried under grief and guilt. But this isn’t grief—it’s something different, a warmth that wraps around you and fills the spaces that loss once consumed.

“Ricky…” you whisper, voice trembling. He blinks rapidly, tears tracing paths down his cheeks as he tries to manage a laugh, a hand lifting to wipe at his face. “Did I go too overboard?” he chuckles, awkwardly, brushing his fingers over yours, an attempt to ease the intensity.

But you can’t answer with words, your heart too full. Instead, you wipe your own tears away, watching him as he takes a deep breath and resumes eating, eyes still red-rimmed, his emotions raw and vivid between you. The silence that follows is... a little satisfying this time around. Your chest tightens, and you realize this feeling—this unexpected, overwhelming tenderness—is the spark you hadn’t felt in what feels like forever.

The confession... It did something to you. It made you feel things or you believed so.

You reach for his hand, this time without hesitation, and hold on as if anchoring both of you to this moment. A shared glance tells him everything you can’t yet put into words: you’re here, with him, and for now, that’s enough.

AS THE DAYS PASSED FOLLOWING THAT UNEXPECTED DINNER, a subtle shift had occurred between you and Ricky. It had been a month since then, and despite your hectic lives—you, a dedicated nurse, and him, an ambitious lawyer—something had changed. You continued to sleep separately, a necessity due to your conflicting schedules. Late nights saw you returning home to find Ricky already asleep, and early mornings had him leaving before you awoke. This unspoken arrangement was born out of mutual respect for each other’s rest.

However, the reminder of the future haunted you. The date on your wrist, November 4th, hadn’t faded or smudged. It remained stark and vivid, a grim reminder of the fate you knew awaited Ricky, filling you with silent dread.

Despite your busy lives, the dinner at that small restaurant had stirred something unspoken between you. A shared tenderness had taken root, and in the brief pauses between work, you found yourself drawn to those moments that whispered of possibilities—moments that spoke of a bond that hadn’t existed before.

The room feels charged with an unspoken tension as you stand there, watching Ricky. The question slips from your lips, “Are we sleeping separately again?” masking the tremble in your voice with an attempt at confidence. Ricky’s eyes meet yours, an amused smile playing on his lips as he tilts his head. “Do you want to sleep with me?” he asks, casual yet knowing.

You stammer, trying to find an answer that won’t reveal how vulnerable you feel. “No—yes—but—” The uncertainty in your voice makes him chuckle softly, the sound sending warmth through your chest. The realization of your feelings for him washes over you again, clear and inescapable.

“It’s normal to want to sleep with your husband. Don’t worry,” he says reassuringly. His tone is light, yet there’s an edge of tenderness as he turns and walks to the bedroom. He pauses at the doorway, looking back with an expectant eyebrow raise, and you follow.

Inside, the dim light casts soft shadows. The atmosphere feels different tonight, heightened by the realization that, while you’ve shared this space before, this moment feels profoundly intimate. He hesitates for a moment, the usual playful confidence in his manner replaced by a quiet consideration.

Should he lie down first?

Wait for you?

Or speak?

“You don’t need to worry. I won’t touch you unless you want me to. We could even put a pillow between us if you prefer,” he says in a rush, trying to ease the tension. But his words leave you both flushed. You respond, flustered yet honest, “No—you can touch me—I mean...”

Ricky’s eyes widen, and a surprised silence falls over you both, broken only by your slightly quickened breaths.

Finally, you break it, murmuring, “So... do we sleep?” You wish the dim light hides your expression, but Ricky’s shifting on the bed signals that he’s as unsettled as you are. He lies down first, and you follow, settling into the bed with a space that feels simultaneously too close and too distant.

Minutes pass as the darkness deepens around you. You’re aware of every sound, every breath he takes, and the slight rustle of sheets as you both try to find comfort. The knowledge that he’s staying dressed out of respect doesn’t escape you, and neither does the chill that seeps through the room, despite the blanket. It’s enough to make sleep elusive, even as your heart drums with quiet, unspoken hope.

The air feels thick with tension as neither of you can fall asleep, despite the dim light and the shared silence. Ricky gently sits up, his voice breaking the stillness. “I’ll get changed into my night clothes—this is uncomfortable. You should get changed too,” he suggests. His words are practical, but they stir a shyness inside you. The thought of wearing shorts around him makes you feel self-conscious, though the blanket and darkness give you some comfort.

With a deep breath, you agree. You grab your oversized top and shorts, retreating to the bathroom to change. When you return, Ricky is already asleep, dressed in a soft T-shirt and shorts. His peaceful expression makes a pang of guilt settle in your chest. You feel both relief and unease at the same time, knowing he’s so close yet so far away.

You lie there, tense in the stillness of the night. Ricky’s hand lands instinctively on your stomach, the warmth of his touch sending a jolt through you. You hold your breath, carefully shifting his hand away. Just when you think you're safe, his leg shifts under the blanket, pressing gently between your legs. A rush of heat floods your chest as you gently push his leg away, silently exhaling in relief.

In the quiet, you watch him sleep. His messy hair, a small trail of drool escaping his lips—something inside you stirs. Without thinking, you bring your thumb to wipe away the drool, brushing it lightly against your shirt. You stare at him for a moment, your heart racing in ways you can’t fully understand.

For Ricky though,

He wakes to find you so close, your noses nearly touching. A small breath escapes him as he pulls back, but then he notices your body, curled into him—one of your legs and arms wrapped around him, as if clinging to his warmth to escape the cold. You’re nestled so comfortably against his chest, and though a small part of him wants to get up, he finds himself content in the moment.

He stares at you, watching as he slips his fingers through your hair, the quiet intimacy settling around him like a comforting blanket. When you stir, half-awake, he expects you to pull away. But you don’t. Instead, you bury yourself further into his chest, and he smiles, a little amused by your unconscious need for closeness.

“Morning... Baby,” he says softly, though he’s hoping you’ll move just enough for him to slip out of bed.

“Morningg,” you murmur, nuzzling his chest. He notices how you don’t seem to mind the nickname, a small sign that you’re still in that dreamy, sleepy state. He wants to pull away, but he doesn't want to disturb you, so he asks, “Can you move a bit, baby?”

You barely stir, your arms and legs still tangled with his. “Too cold,” you mumble, your voice muffled against his shirt.

“I know, baby. I’ll turn the heater on for you, is that good?” he whispers, his voice tender. He’s careful not to wake you fully, knowing you won’t even remember this when you wake up.

An hour later, you wake up alone in the bed, the soft comforter still wrapped around your legs. You stretch and yawn, rubbing your eyes, only to hear the door creak open. Ricky stands there, a plate in hand—an omelette and a fruit salad. You blink, unsure if you’re still dreaming, and pinch your cheek, just to make sure this isn’t some figment of your imagination.

“What's that?” you ask, your voice still thick with sleep.

“Breakfast in bed,” Ricky says with a playful grin, setting the plate down in front of you.

“For me?” you ask, surprised and touched.

“Who else?” he replies with a shrug, like it's the most natural thing in the world.

“Why...?” You blink at him, unsure of why he's being so considerate, so affectionate.

“Why not?” he answers, teasing, but there’s a sincerity in his eyes that makes your heart flutter.

You stare at the food in front of you, but the nerves kick in. “Well, uhm... I haven’t brushed.”

“It’s okay,” he reassures, waving off your concerns.

“No, it’s not. It’s gross. I do care about germs,” you argue, a bit embarrassed. Before he can say anything else, you rush off to brush your teeth, feeling a little self-conscious. You quickly freshen up, brushing your teeth with the toothpaste, hoping that’ll help with the lingering awkwardness.

When you return, you take a bite, and the emotion hits you harder than you expect. You don’t quite know why, but the tenderness of his gesture fills you with gratitude, and a soft lump forms in your throat.

“Why?” you ask again, your voice shaky, as you sip some water. The question has been swirling in your mind ever since you saw him standing there, holding that plate.

“Hm?” he hums, genuinely confused, not fully understanding why you're so emotional.

“Why are you being so nice... and romantic?” You wince after speaking, regretting your words, but you can't take them back now.

Ricky tilts his head, his smile fading slightly. “Like I said a month ago... I meant those words. I want us to stay like this... And not go back to how it was in those four years.. Are we really that immature to let it happen again?” The vulnerability in his tone catches you off guard, and for a moment, you can see the hurt in his eyes.

It's raw, honest, and you feel a knot twist in your chest, not having a reply to his genuine question.

THE DAYS AND MONTHS THAT FOLLOW ARE UNEXPECTEDLY TENDER, filled with moments that remind you of what being husband and wife is meant to feel like. The shared smiles, lingering touches, and quiet mornings are sweeter than they have ever been, and for the first time in a long while, peace seems attainable. Yet, there is an undercurrent that stirs beneath it all—the date that looms, casting a shadow over your contentment.

November 4th.

With the month drawing nearer, your heart starts to tighten with an anxious grip. Paranoia seeps into the quiet moments, the fear of what November 4th could mean—what it has meant in the past—makes the days feel more fragile. Your mind races, replaying scenarios and doubts that you can’t shake off. Each sweet gesture, each kind word from him, is tinged with the knowledge that the date approaches, threatening to unravel everything you’ve rebuilt.

Ricky’s expression is heavy with exhaustion, dark circles under his eyes hinting at the long day he’s had. You offer, “I’ll heat up the dinner,” and turn toward the kitchen, but he stops you with a gentle grasp around your wrist. Before you can react, he pulls you back, pressing you against the wall. The soft strains of a romantic song drift from the living room, creating an intimate, almost fragile atmosphere.

He’s close—closer than usual—and you feel the warmth radiating from his body as well as the subtle scent of his cologne. The proximity sends your pulse racing.

“Ricky?” you say softly, confusion lacing your voice as you look up at him. His face is unreadable, the dim lighting casting a shadow over the tired lines of his features. His eyes meet yours, carrying an unspoken emotion.

“Mm?” he murmurs, his voice hushed, as if not to disturb the moment. His hands find their way around you, holding you securely against him, and he leans his chin on your head. The gesture feels protective, desperate even.

“What are you doing?” you ask, your words barely above a whisper, unsure if you’re seeking clarification or reassurance. His embrace tightens for a moment, and you feel his chest rise and fall against yours as he takes a deep breath.

“Can you stop calling me Ricky?” he says quietly, the request landing softly, yet weighted.

Surprise flashes through you. “What do you want me to call you?” you ask, voice muffled against his shirt. The question feels vulnerable, as if shifting something fundamental between you both.

“I don’t know... something like... baby, darling, honey... or anything,” he admits, a subtle flush spreading across his cheeks despite the solemn tone. You catch the shy dip of his eyes, and a faint smile tugs at your lips.

“You’re being quite demanding,” you tease, looking up into his face. His lips part slightly as he considers your words.

“This isn’t being demanding,” he counters, pausing just long enough for the silence to underline his meaning. His eyes search yours, raw and full of an unnamed plea. “I just want to spend my last months with you, thinking we’re just... normal. Like any other couple.”

His words sink in, bringing with them an ache that spreads through your chest. The silence that follows is heavy, laced with all the things unsaid and the truth that’s pressing in on both of you. You lift a hand, letting your fingers brush the hair at the back of his neck. His eyes soften, dark lashes casting shadows against his skin as he watches you.

There’s something fragile in this moment, a bittersweet understanding passing between you that makes your throat tighten. The future looms, uncertain and unkind, but for now, you’re here, held close, suspended in the tender present.

Ricky’s voice lowers, a tremor in its depths that betrays the weight of his words. “You might not believe me, but... I come from a reality where I’m dead. So, I hope we can at least be nice to each other in my last moments. Can you do that?”

A stunned silence follows, your breath catching in your throat as his confession hangs in the air. You believe him; how could you not when you come from the same reality? Eyes widening, you step back, raising your wrist to show the dark, unerasable mark: November 4th. The ink-like number seems to pulse, a constant reminder of a fate that binds you both.

Ricky’s eyes mirror your shock. He releases you, just enough to reveal his own wrist. There it is, the same haunting date. The mark seems alive, almost mocking, as if counting down with every heartbeat.

Neither of you speaks for a moment, the silence heavy with shared grief and realization. The next second, you’re in his arms again, your face buried in his chest as he pulls you close, his own face pressed into your hair. The world around you blurs, reduced to the rapid thumping of your heart and the warmth of his embrace.

“I... please don’t... leave me this time,” you plead, your voice breaking under the weight of your fear. The memory of finding him lifeless in the world you came from, the coldness of that reality, rushes back with a cruel force.

“I will try,” he whispers, his voice barely steady as he runs a hand down your back in a soothing gesture. “We changed the relationship, right? So maybe... just maybe, we can avoid death too.”

You both stand there, unmoving as the moment stretches out. It feels absurd, two souls transported from a fractured future, now clinging to each other in the present in a fragile hope. Yet the thought of letting go is unbearable, so you don’t. For now, the reality of the present is enough.

RICKY’S FINGERS TREMBLE SLIGHTLY AS HE HOLDS OUT THE SMALL BOX, A HINT OF NERVOUSNESS CREASING HIS BROW. “This is for you.” His voice is softer than usual, his eyes searching yours for a response. The box is familiar, a relic from the present you left behind, steeped in memories. Inside is the ancestral ring, one that Ricky’s mother entrusted to you after his death—a token that held more value than any wedding ring could.

“I wasn’t... couldn’t give it to you before, but now... I’d like you to have it.” His voice is almost a whisper as he takes your hand, slipping the cool metal onto your finger. His touch lingers, warm and careful, as if anchoring the moment between you.

You look down at the ring, its delicate design catching the dim light and glistening softly. The weight of it brings back a rush of memories that mix grief with an unexpected warmth. Meeting his gaze, you let a small, genuine smile curve your lips. “Thank you. After you… I mean, after your death, your mother gave it to me,” you say, voice thick with the past, “but I’m glad it’s you giving it to me now.”

The way his eyes widen before softening speaks volumes—acceptance, regret, and hope, all blending seamlessly as he draws you closer.

Ricky’s expression shifts, a soft smile forming as he leans in, his body pressing yours gently against the bedroom wall. His breath mingles with yours, warm and scented faintly with his cologne. His eyes trace your features, holding a glimmer of something tender and fragile. You raise a brow in playful defiance, a silent challenge, and a sheepish smile tugs at his lips. Without another word, he cups your face, his thumb grazing your cheek, and leans in until the space between you disappears.

The first touch of his lips is tentative, testing. A shiver races down your spine as his mouth moves with a gentleness that makes your heart stutter. Your eyes flutter open for a second, catching the serene expression on his face before closing again as you respond, deepening the kiss. Your hands find their way to his shoulders, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as if anchoring yourself to reality.

When he finally breaks away, his forehead rests against yours, both of you breathing in short, uneven gasps. The room is silent except for the soft crackle of a song playing somewhere in the background. Ricky’s eyes open, and in them, you see a question—a hesitation laced with anticipation. “Do you want to go further?” His voice, barely above a whisper, holds a vulnerability that makes your pulse quicken.

You exhale softly, a hint of a smile teasing your lips as you match his boldness. “How far can you go?” The playful edge in your voice makes him chuckle, low and breathy.

“As far as you want to go.” The words are a promise, and before you can respond, his lips capture yours again, more confident this time, as his hand moves to the strap of your dress, gently sliding it off of your shoulders.

THE NEXT FEW WEEKS PASS IN A COMFORTING CALM, the bond between you and Ricky strengthening with each passing day. You're no longer weighed down by the regret of the past, but instead, you focus on cherishing the present. Yet, there's still a lingering unease.

Ricky driving the car is something that continues to gnaw at you. It's not just a simple fear; it's the haunting memory of the future you came from, where that very action led to his tragic end. As November nears, the pressure builds. You look at the date on your wrist—November 4th—and the thought of losing him again, of it becoming reality, is too much to bear. Your chest tightens, and you feel a mix of helplessness and dread, hoping with every fiber of your being that this time, things will be different.

Ricky offers a reassuring smile, the kind that tries to mask his own unease as he softly says, “Chill, I’ll be back in an hour, alright?” His hand moves up to gently smooth your hair, eyes soft with understanding as he takes in the worry etched across your face. You cling tighter to his arm, voice trembling as you ask, “Is it important?”

He nods, and the hopeful part of you crumbles. The instinct to keep him close, to refuse, is almost overwhelming. But before you can protest, he leans forward, placing a tender kiss on your forehead. His hands slip down to rest on your shoulders as he looks at you earnestly.

“I promise I’ll be back. Now, will my pretty wife give me a smile so I can come back even sooner?” The playful plea tugs at your lips, and despite the fear swirling inside, you manage a small, forced smile. He chuckles softly, ruffling your hair before turning to leave.

You trail behind him to the door, eyes glued to the taillights of his car as they fade down the street. The ache in your chest sharpens, and you glance down at the ancestral ring on your finger, tracing its smooth surface as if the touch alone could make your wish come true: Please, come back safely.

The minutes stretch painfully long, and every ten minutes, you can’t resist sending a text, the same anxious message: “If you’re okay, just send a heart emoji.” True to his word, Ricky replies with a heart every time—until the fifty-minute mark.

The silence is deafening. Your heart thunders as you stare at your phone, willing the screen to light up. Nothing. The dread coils tighter, stealing the air from your lungs. You take a shaky breath, but it barely settles you. Panic sets in, and you hit the call button. The phone doesn’t connect; the ring tone never plays. Your chest tightens.

In desperation, you call Jay, your brother-in-law. His voice is laced with confusion as he picks up. “Jay, is Ricky with you?” The silence that follows your frantic question only amplifies your fear. “No, why? What’s going on?” he asks, suddenly serious. Before you can answer, he cuts the call, sensing the urgency and attempting to help in any way he can.

The next hour drags like an eternity, your anxiety swallowing every rational thought. You pace the room, eyes darting to the clock, phone clenched in your shaking hand. Then, after what feels like a lifetime, you hear the distant purr of an engine. Your pulse stutters as Ricky’s car comes into view, whole and unharmed.

But you don’t relax. Not until you see him. The door swings open, and there he is, frustration etched into his features as he steps inside. Your breath catches, relief and anger colliding within you.

Ricky's expression softens as he speaks, keeping his voice low despite the frustration. “Why’d you call Jay over something like this? My phone died while I was working. I charged it and got caught up in the case. It’s embarrassing.”

Your eyes well up, the weight of worry turning to a sting of hurt. “So? It’s not important?” Your voice wavers, raw with emotion. “I was terrified, Ricky! I didn’t want to lose you again. Sorry for being the clingy wife you’re ashamed of.”

Turning to leave, you barely make a step before he’s there, blocking your path. His eyes search yours, but instead of a defensive remark, he pulls you close, enveloping you in an embrace that tells you more than words could. His arms tighten, anchoring you to him as he murmurs in your ear, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that. It’s strange, but I promise I won’t say that again, okay?”

His breath is warm against your hair as he leans his cheek on your head, his heartbeat steady against your own erratic one. Despite the tension, you sense his understanding, a silent acknowledgment of your fear. He’s learning to hold your worry without judgment.

“I was so scared, Ricky. I thought I’d lose you all over again.” Your voice cracks, and he feels the tremor in your body. He wants to say the right thing, anything to soothe the tremble in your words, but all he can do is hold you tighter.

Both of you are haunted by that date imprinted on your wrists, “November 4th.” A reminder that looms like an uninvited shadow, a constant whisper of what could happen.

THE DAY ARRIVES, a heavy silence filling the air between you and Ricky. His promise lingers like a protective shield around you both: he won’t drive, he won’t leave. His presence is a balm for the fear that pulses in your chest. As the two of you snuggle on the couch, the soft glow of the TV playing a rom-com, you turn to him with a worried look, your voice low and unsure.

“What if something bad happens while we’re in the house?” you whisper, nuzzling into his warmth. The thought of losing him, of the world continuing without him, feels unbearable.

Ricky shifts, his arm wrapping tighter around you as he looks down at you, his breath warm against your neck. “Nothing will happen. And if it does, I’ll protect you,” he assures, his tone strong and sure, though his own heart is heavy. He knows how much your fear weighs on you, and he wants to shoulder it for you.

But the thought of you living without him—he can’t imagine it. He brushes your hair from your face gently, his voice a soft promise. “I love you too much for that.” His words come out naturally, like it’s something he’s been holding back but feels right now to say. It’s the first time you hear him say it, and the weight of those words floods your heart with warmth, knowing this is real.

“I get it. I won’t put my life at risk,” he murmurs, though there’s a quiet uncertainty in his words, an unspoken truth that he would never let anything harm you—even at the cost of his own safety.

You glance up at him, your lips pressing together in a worried frown. “You better not,” you mumble, not able to let go of the fear completely. You’ve spent the whole day together, in the safety of your home, trying to ignore the impending dread that the date will pass and nothing will change. Watching TV, cooking together, each small moment a reminder of how much he means to you—and how fragile life can be.

You curl up closer to him, as if physically wrapping yourself around him can keep him safe. Your eyes glance at the clock, the seconds ticking by too slowly. Every moment spent together now feels like a treasure, and you want to hold on to it forever.

The two of you lie in bed, the soft glow of the nightlight casting a gentle warmth over your forms. His hand rests tenderly over yours, fingers interlocking. He watches you as you sleep, your face relaxed, peaceful. A quiet whisper escapes his lips: “I love you.” His eyes linger on your peaceful expression, your other arm still clinging to him as if you’re unwilling to let go even in sleep.

He leans over to turn off the lamp, and then his gaze falls to his wrist—where the date once was. It’s gone. A wave of disbelief washes over him. The tension that has gripped him for so long begins to melt away. Perhaps it wasn’t an omen after all, but a reminder that after November 4th, a new chapter awaited them both.

He takes a deep breath, reaching for your wrist to find the same thing: no date. Relief floods him, and he presses a soft kiss to your forehead, pulling you even closer into his arms, savoring the moment.

But he knows, as much as this moment feels like a new beginning, there will still be challenges ahead. The fear you carry about him driving is not something that will fade overnight. Your worry, rooted in a past he knows you can’t shake, will take time to heal. But for now, he holds you close, understanding, and promises silently that he’ll be patient, allowing you to find peace in your own time.

TWO MONTHS HAVE PASSED SINCE THE FATEFUL DATE, and though life has taken you and Ricky through different stages, there’s an undeniable warmth between the two of you. Sitting at the family dinner table, surrounded by loved ones, the air is filled with laughter, conversation, and the quiet hum of joy.

Semi, now a cheerful five-year-old, eats her meal quietly, occasionally looking up with shy glances.

You glance over at Ricky, noticing him take a deep breath as he prepares to speak, his hand resting on the table near yours. It’s clear he’s nervous, even though it’s just family. He clears his throat, the words finally tumbling out: “So… We’re having a baby.”

There’s a beat of silence.

Ricky’s father scoffs, not giving him an ounce of reaction, while his mother rolls her eyes. “Oh, c’mon, you can fool us one time, not twice,” she says, clearly referencing the last family dinner, where you had tried to casually mention trying for a baby, only for him to play along. He felt the blame was entirely on him, but you knew the truth—it was a team effort.

You chuckle softly to yourself, leaning into Ricky’s side, your heart fluttering at the thought of a new life, a new chapter. He meets your gaze, his lips curving into a small smile, even amidst the teasing.

This moment, while filled with playful mockery, marks something deeper. You’re finally here together, stronger and more united than ever before. And this new adventure? It’s the start of a new journey that no one can take from you.

“Really, Y/n’s pregnant. We're having a baby,” Ricky says, his voice laced with excitement. His mother, skeptical, eyes you closely. “Is that true?”

Without waiting for Ricky’s confirmation, you nod, feeling his fingers intertwine with yours beneath the table, his touch calming your nerves.

"I won’t hesitate to beat your ass if this is fake," his dad grumbles, irritation mixing with a hint of hope.

Jay, barely containing his amusement at the scene, watches the family react, while Ricky proudly pulls out the ultrasound pictures, revealing the truth. His parents take turns looking at the images, jaws dropping in surprise. Jay, knowing already, can’t help but chuckle.

"Father was starting to question your masculinity. Glad you proved him wrong," Jay teases, earning a gentle nudge from Jieun, urging him to keep it light.

"Wait... So there’s a grandkid on the way?" Ricky’s mother recovers first, grinning with hopeful excitement. Ricky nods, and your heart swells at the thought of everything that's to come. This moment, this family, it feels like the beginning of something truly special.

Ricky’s mother leans forward, still processing, but the excitement is slowly bubbling up. “A grandchild? Really? My little boy having a little one? I’m going to spoil that baby so much.”

Ricky chuckles, glancing at you. “Well, you already spoil Semi enough, so I guess it’s fair.”

“Hey, I’m a great grandma-in-training,” she quips, giving Semi an affectionate pat. “But if you two need any advice, I’m here.”

Your heart swells seeing the warmth in her eyes. But then, Ricky’s dad, clearly trying to keep his cool, mutters, “I’ll believe it when I see a baby in my arms.”

“You’ll see him,” Ricky says, giving you a reassuring squeeze. “Or her, right, Y/n?”

You smile, feeling the weight of the moment. “Definitely,” you whisper, feeling a rush of emotion.

Jay, still grinning, can’t help but poke at his younger brother. “So, what’s the plan, huh? You two gonna have one of those perfect Pinterest-worthy baby showers or just skip the whole thing?”

Jieun smacks his arm lightly. “Don’t make them nervous, Jay. Let them enjoy the moment.”

Ricky laughs, looking over at you with that same loving gaze. “Honestly, I think we just need to take it one step at a time. But yeah, we’ll get there.”

“You know, when you have a baby, you’ll see just how much you need each other,” his dad says more seriously now, a rare moment of wisdom breaking through his tough exterior. “It’s not just about being a parent, it’s about being there for each other even more.”

Ricky nods, his hand tightening around yours as if to say, “I’ve got you, always.”

The whole family seems to settle into a comfortable silence after that, everyone soaking in the news in their own way, but all of them sharing the same unspoken bond.

“Guess we’ll need one more chair for next time,” Jay jokes, breaking the silence, and everyone bursts out laughing.

You glance at Ricky, his eyes full of joy, and your heart feels fuller than it ever has. There’s something about being surrounded by family—being with him—that feels right. “Yeah, we’ll need one more chair,” Ricky agrees softly, his gaze drifting to the future, to the family that’s just beginning.

In the end, you and Ricky had proven the vows true—til death do us part. Through all the challenges, fears, and moments of doubt, you had always found your way back to each other. The promises made, the trust built, and the love that had endured everything now stood as a testament to what you had together. With every touch, every shared laugh, and every quiet moment, you knew that no matter what, your hearts were bound—for life—and beyond.

© fanbasetwo | tumblr

[fanbasetwo]

hiii🫶🏻 could you write something about gyuvin wanting to do it with reader but she’s nervous because she’s virgin so gyu convinced her with just the tip?

✦ JUST THE TIP ┊ GYUVIN

001. PAIRING , experienced ! gyuvin × virgin ! afab reader

002. SYNOPSIS , gyuvin has had a lot of experience in the bedroom compared to you, and you knew it. you didn't think much of it until you two finally decided to get intimate.

003. WARNING(S) , the reader is a virgin, kissing, a little dirty talk (maybe), more of a comfort sex, hymen breaking and blood, petnames, mentions of cumming, NSFW, MDNI, etc, lmk if i missed anything.

004. WORD COUNT , 1.5k

You and Gyuvin were literally partners in crime, even though you two didn't quite match in everything. He was experienced when it came to sex. He had quite the girlfriends. Of course that didn't make you jealous or insecure (maybe) well, not until you two decided to do it.

Now, as you lay there on the bed, the soft sheets caressing your bare skin, you can feel Gyuvin's weight pressing down on you. His muscular body, honed from years of physical training, looms over you, casting a shadow in the dimly lit room. The air is heavy with anticipation, and you can feel your heart pounding in your chest as you gaze up at him.

Gyuvin's eyes, usually so confident and unwavering, now hold a flicker of uncertainty. “Do you not trust me?” he asks softly, his voice barely above a whisper. There's a hint of hurt in his tone, and you can see the concern etched on his chiseled features. The dim lighting casts shadows across his face, highlighting the contours of his jawline and the curve of his lips.

“I do... I do trust you, Gyuvin...” you manage to whisper, your voice trembling with nerves. Your eyes dart to his chest, taking in the sight of his defined pecs, the muscles rising and falling with each breath. You can feel the heat radiating off his body, and it makes your skin tingle with a mixture of excitement and fear.

“I'm just nervous,” you continue, your voice barely audible. “What if I'm not as good as the other girls you've been with?” The question hangs in the air between you, heavy with unspoken fears and insecurities.

Gyuvin sighs, understanding flashing in his eyes. “They don't compare,” he murmurs, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to your lips. The warmth of his mouth against yours sends a shiver down your spine, and you can taste the faint hint of mint on his breath. “What I have with you is different,” he whispers, his voice low and earnest.

You can feel Gyuvin's warm breath on your face as he leans in close, his lips brushing against yours in a gentle kiss. “You know what I mean, right?” he murmurs, his voice low and intimate. The dim lights of the bedroom flicker, casting a soft glow on his chiseled features.

When he sees your hesitation wavering, he makes a suggestion, his voice soft and coaxing. “I'll just put the tip in,” he offers, hoping you'll agree. “If you don't want to go further, just say the word and I'll pull out.”

You take a deep breath, trying to calm your racing heart. You trust Gyuvin, you know he loves you, but the fear of not being good enough still lingers in the back of your mind. “Fine,” you mutter, giving him permission to continue.

Gyuvin gently rubs your arms, trying to soothe your nerves as he hooks his fingers into your panties. He slowly slides them down your legs, past your ankles, and onto the floor. You're still wearing your top, and he doesn't want to remove it, sensing your discomfort at being fully exposed.

He kicks off his own boxers, revealing his already hard length, the tip glistening with precum. Your own folds are slick with arousal, and you can feel the heat building between your legs. Gyuvin keeps his movements slow and gentle, mindful of your virginity.

He places his hand on your cheek, caressing your skin with his calloused fingers. “I love you,” he whispers, his voice filled with emotion. “You're so pretty.” He peppers your face with soft kisses, his lips trailing from your forehead to your nose to your chin.

With the utmost care, Gyuvin guides his tip to your entrance, the head of his cock nudging against your tight ring of bundles. He had promised to only put the tip in, and he keeps his word. There's a small pop as your hymen breaks, a trickle of blood seeping out and staining the sheets below.

“FUCK FUCK FUCK!!!” You let out a cry of pain, squeezing your eyes shut as the sharp sensation of your hymen tearing courses through your body. Gyuvin's strong hands grip your hips, holding you steady as he gentles you through the momentary discomfort.

“Shh, I've got you baby,” he soothes, peppering tender kisses across your face as if to chase away the tears that have begun to fall. “Just breathe, it'll be okay.”

You focus on the rise and fall of your chest, trying to calm your racing heart. Underneath the pain, you can feel an unfamiliar fullness, a stretching sensation as Gyuvin's tip remains nestled inside your tight heat. It's overwhelming, the foreign intrusion making you clutch at his shoulders for support.

“Do you want me to pull out?” Gyuvin asks softly, his eyes searching yours for any sign of distress. Even now, with your virginity claimed, he's still putting your comfort first. He would withdraw if you asked, no questions.

But as the pain begins to ebb, replaced by a growing ache, you find yourself shaking your head. “No... Please... Stay,” you manage to murmur, your voice barely above a whisper. “I...”

You can't even finish the thought, your mind too hazy with sensation to string together a coherent sentence. All you know is that you don't want him to leave, not when you've finally given yourself to him completely.

Gyuvin's answering smile is tender, almost reverent. “I'm here, sweetheart. I'm not going anywhere.” With infinite care, he begins to rock his hips, slowly easing himself deeper into your clenching heat. Inch by inch, he fills you, stretching you open on his thick length. Each thrust is careful, measured, giving you time to adjust to the unfamiliar sensation.

And all the while, he keeps up a stream of soft endearments and praise, telling you how beautiful you are, how much he loves you, how perfect you feel wrapped around him. The words wash over you like a soothing balm, easing the ache in your chest even as the pleasure builds between your legs.

By the time Gyuvin is fully sheathed inside you, you're both panting heavily, your bodies slick with sweat. The initial pain has faded, replaced by a deep, throbbing ache that pulses in time with your racing heart. It's a strange feeling, being so utterly filled, stretched to the limit around Gyuvin's thick girth.

“How are you feeling, baby?” he murmurs, his voice rough with restrained passion. His hands stroke soothingly up and down your sides, gently kneading the tense muscles. “Tell me if it's too much.”

You shake your head, not wanting him to stop. “It feels... strange,” you admit, your voice trembling slightly. “But not bad. Just... a lot.”

Gyuvin chuckles softly, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead. “That's normal, sweetheart. It'll get better, I promise.”

Slowly, carefully, he begins to move. Each thrust is shallow, letting you adjust to the new sensations. You can feel every ridge and vein of his cock dragging along your inner walls, stoking the embers of pleasure that are beginning to ignite in your core.

As Gyuvin picks up the pace, the ache starts to transform into something else entirely. It's still intense, bordering on overwhelming, but now there's a hint of something else beneath it. A spark of heat, a flutter of anticipation. Your body starts to move with his, instinctively seeking more of the delicious friction.

“That's it, just like that,” Gyuvin encourages, his voice strained with the effort of holding back. “You're doing so well, baby. Taking me so perfectly.”

His praise washes over you, fueling the growing fire in your veins. You feel powerful, desirable, utterly cherished. Like you're the most precious thing in the world to Gyuvin in this moment.

The pleasure builds with each thrust, each drag of Gyuvin's hard length against your sensitive walls. Your hips rise to meet his, urgently seeking more of the delicious friction. The wet sounds of your coupling fill the room, a lewd symphony that spurs you both on.

Gyuvin's hands roam your body, mapping out every curve and dip. He cups your breasts, thumbs teasing your nipples into stiff peaks. He trails kisses along your jaw, your neck, your collarbone, leaving a trail of fire in his wake. Each touch, each caress, serves to heighten your arousal, pushing you closer to the edge.

“That's it, baby,” Gyuvin pants, his voice ragged with desire. “Take everything I give you. You're so fucking perfect.”

His words send a shiver down your spine, igniting something primal within you. You wrap your legs around his waist, using the leverage to pull him even deeper. The new angle has Gyuvin groaning, his hips snapping forward with renewed vigor.

The pleasure is unlike anything you've ever experienced. It's all-consuming, overwhelming, threatening to drown you in its intensity. Your nails rake down Gyuvin's back, leaving crescent marks in their wake. You cling to him, anchor yourself to his solid strength as the world spins out of control.

“Gyuvin, I... I think...” you gasp, your voice barely recognizable to your own ears. Your thighs tremble, your core clenching around him like a vice. You're so close, teetering on the precipice of something massive.

“That's it, sweetheart,” Gyuvin urges, his thrusts becoming erratic. “Let go for me. Come all over my cock. I want to feel you explode.”

NOTE : i’m not sure if you wanted me to write a fic over 1k words but I found this request interesting so i followed through. this took me a while to write but here you go! thank you for the request anon <3

© 2024 all rights reserved to fanbasetwo !

[fanbasetwo]

Ricky new haircut I CANT ANYMORE I need nasty NASTYY nasty sex with freaky boyfriend ricky 😀😀😀😀

NOTE : I JUST SAW THE PICTURE AFHHDFGH!!! I FEEL YOU ANON, HE LOOKS SO GOOD WTF??!!! 😭 Not gonna write a full blown fic since I have lots of fics in my draft but I made this a little drabble, hope you enjoy 🫶🏻 MASTERLIST!!

“Please!” you begged as you felt the smooth silk of the blindfold caress your eyes, heightening your other senses. Your boyfriend Ricky's strong hands grasped your hips as he drizzled the cold chocolate syrup along your swollen, sensitive folds, making you shudder with anticipation. You had already cum multiple times from his skilled mouth worshipping your pussy. Now his tongue delved deep again, lapping and sucking on your slick petals, drawing out another desperate moan from your lips.

Ricky's tongue kept licking and sucking your engorged clit as two fingers pumped in and out of your tight, wet heat. The contrast of the cold syrup and his hot mouth made you writhe with pleasure. “Oh god, yes! Don't stop!” you cried out, fisting your hands in his hair. Ricky just let out a hum... too lost in the way the chocolate flavored arousal tasted but the vibrations making you see stars. His thumb rubbed firm circles on your clit as he curled his fingers just right, hitting that special spot inside that made your toes curl. The pressure built rapidly as he ate you out desperately as if trying to prove a point.

“I'm gonna... gonna cum again!” you keened, thighs trembling. With a final hard suck on your clit, Ricky sent you flying over the edge into blissful oblivion. Your back arched as wave after wave of ecstasy crashed through you. He lapped up your release, not stopping until you collapsed bonelessly, utterly spent. “We should do this again someday.” he added, wiping the chocolatey yet whitish liquid of your essence off his chin.

[fanbasetwo]

bf ricky headcanons??🩷🩷

BOYFRIEND RICKY HEADCANONS!!

NOTE FROM SENA , this was sent three days ago i guess and even though I had been very very excited to write something bout my bias, my drained brain held me back but now I'm back and I'll answer the other requests too! MASTERLIST!!

wanna talk? or send in a request?

001. SFW SECTION

Ricky is the type of boyfriend to bring you flowers every time he visits your home or just usual pick up for a date or something.

Ricky is the type of boyfriend to randomly kiss and then get shy himself when he processes what he just did.

Ricky is the type of boyfriend to listen to his girl rant for more than an hour just because he loves you and if he finds the gossip talk worthy-he will even start questioning with interest.

Ricky is the type of boyfriend who is a switch between all caring and protective to possesive and jealous.

Ricky is the type of boyfriend who would randomly pull you into his arms and his lap for extra cuddles at night.

Ricky is the type of boyfriend to take candid pictures of you when he thinks you're not looking.

Ricky is the type of boyfriend who will put your nickname as something affectionate yet unique (more like an inside joke between the two of you) sprinkles, sunshine, sweetheart, #ownerofmyheart and more.

Ricky is the type of boyfriend to let you cry in his arms, bury your face in his chest and talk about the things that have been troubling you-all the while he makes sure to rub your back and whisper sweet nothings in your ears.

Ricky is more of a neck kisser and he will take every opportunity to just place a peck or full blown hickey on your neck.

Ricky is the type of boyfriend to call you late at night just to make sure you're safe and sound.

Ricky is the type of boyfriend to post his girlfriend on his social media accounts without caring about what others would think of it.

Ricky is the type of boyfriend who'd ask you to wear his hoodies because he loves how small you look in them, so cuddly and so cute.

002. NSFW SECTION

Ricky is the type of boyfriend to rub himself along your wet panties and nudge his tip against it but not put it inside just to tease you.

Ricky is the type of boyfriend who won't mind getting a blowjob, twice or thrice a week because he really likes to see you on your knees, eyes filled with tears as you suck on his length desperately—just like a kid receiving candy for the first time.

Ricky is the type of boyfriend to lick long stripes and drag his tongue flat against your pussy while eating you out.

Ricky is the type of boyfriend to do it in missionary so that he could see your face, your expressions and watch as little drool escaped your lips from being exhausted after the lovemaking.

Ricky is the type of boyfriend to hold your tits no matter if it's during sex or not. (for example—during sex if you're riding him, he'd caress them and suck on them but if it's not during sex—he'd just squeeze them or rub against your nipples to get a reaction or just use them as his stress balls.)

Ricky is the type of boyfriend who's a gentleman out of bed (COMPLETE FREAK IN BED)

Ricky is the type of boyfriend who enjoys making you cum—his tongue, fingers, cock, dildo or whatever it is.

Ricky is the type of boyfriend who won't mind semi public sex since he enjoys the thrill it brings to him—his car? the dressing room? against the wall at a party? he likes it all.

Ricky is the type of boyfriend who would insist on you drinking his cum while giving him a blowjob because he loves the way the remaining cum drips down your lips and chin.

Ricky is the type of boyfriend who won't mind not having a condom while having sex (he lovessss cumming deep in your pussy and won't hesitate to take up the responsibility if you actually ended up pregnant or something)

Ricky is the type of boyfriend who would be into tying you up a little and either use ice cubes or his own mouth to tease you.

Ricky is the type of boyfriend who's mostly likely to pound into your pussy while showering, watching as the water droplets trickle down your bodies.

Ricky is the type of boyfriend who knows how much after care actually means and will clean you up and then cuddle you later after sex, doesn't matter if it was rough or soft sex.

© 2024 , all rights reserved to fanbasetwo !

[fanbasetwo]

✦ WHO’S MOST LIKELY TO SAY ‘I LOVE YOU’ FIRST IN ZEROBASEONE !!

001. PAIRING , zb1 × afab reader

002. GENRE , fluff, headcannon, scenario

ZEROBASEONE MASTERLIST !!

#01. HANBIN . . . ✦

Hanbin literally tops. Not only is he the leader of the group but has a confident personality. Never seen him do dance challenges with female idols where he is shy, he's mostly confident and would most probably won't even mind confessing his love for you. It doesn't matter if you say it back, as long as he's said it—he feels the wait off of his chest. But if you do say it back, he'll pamper you with kisses.

#02. MATTHEW . . . ✦

Although he seems shy and all cute at first, he seems the type to love-love. Would fear rejection but would also not be able to keep his feelings inside himself and will for sure spill the tea all out. He'd probably say the first ‘I love you’ when it had been just a week and though this might seem like a red flag to some... he just genuinely loved you and couldn't help himself from saying it out to you.

#03. ZHANG HAO . . . ✦

You'd be stupid if you'd expect a leo to be shy in a relationship. Sure there would be times when he'd be the one shy and hiding his face but when it would come to saying ‘I love you’, he won't miss the chance to say it first. Don't mind though, if you give him enough consent he might even lean in to kiss you on the lips.

#04. GYUVIN . . . ✦

Eh eh eh... Gyuvin is a playful one and though he's not the type to say it first. He might practice saying it in front of his mirror but even so, he will only say it if it's been over a few months and you two still haven't shared the ‘I love you’s couples were normally supposed to do. He will try to be romantic but will end up sounding awkward and frustrated, so much that you'd have to ask to make sure that he was in the right mind when he had said that.

#05. JIWOONG . . . ✦

He's shy (so babygirl coded aghhhhh). Even though he has kissed in a kdrama, boy would be more shy than his members. He would hope that you would eventually say ‘I love you’ to him first but when you were just as shy as him and maybe even more, only then will he agree to take the lead and say it. Will bury his face in his palms and won't look at you until you do say it back or else it'll be a embarrassing moment for him.

#06. GUNWOOK . . . ✦

He won't say it first even if he can and wants to. That is because he wants to know if you will ever say it first. But again, when he least expects it—he’ll be shy upon hearing an ‘I love you’ directed at him. That too by the one he loves so much. But if he gets an opportunity where the two of you are in the moment, he will definitely go for it and say it first.

#07. RICKY . . . ✦

I know you were expecting to see him on top but let's be honest. You won't like a bull (taurus) to say ‘I love you’ first. And I'm not saying it just so—it’s because Ricky would most probably ruin the moment by saying something else. He's stubborn as heck, so he won't be saying it first but will definitely say it back if you do.

#08. TAERAE . . . ✦

Taerae is not going to say it first. He'd go to his friends for advice, asking how to say ‘I love you’ first. Maybe even go on reddit or quora or other websites he could find. After getting all the moral support he will not say 143 first. It's not because he doesn't love you. But it's because he's too shy to do so, so much that it would hurt him and you at times.

#09. YUJIN . . . ✦

Trust me or not, I'm not putting Yujin at last because he's the maknae. It's because as a pisces myself I can relate to Yujin at times. Even on the boys planet, he was shown as the sensitive and shy typa guy. Which I strongly believe is so close to his real personality. He will NEVER. I repeat. NEVER EVER say I love you first. He's too nervous and shy for that.

NOTE FROM SENA , just realised this is my first zb1 fluff aghhhhh. and I deeply apologize if the reference to zodiac signs is annoying (because I believe it was) might try to use them less when making upcoming ‘most likely to’ works <3

© 2024 , all rights reserved to fanbasetwo !

[fanbasetwo]

shimkongz threesome I begg, ricky being your boyfriend and gyu who’s always liked you a little too much

✦ TWO FOR ONE ┊ RICKY & GYUVIN

001. PAIRING , boyfriend ! ricky × afab reader × boyfriend’s best friend ! gyuvin

002. SYNOPSIS , you didn't know how you ended up in this situation with your boyfriend and his best friend, maybe they planned it... maybe they didn't.. but you didn't mind it now.

003. WARNING(S) , NSFW, MDNI, unprotected sex, fingering, blowjob/face fucking, jealousy, nipple play, kissing a bit, licking precum, creampie, lmk if i missed anything.

004. WORD COUNT , 1.4k

The obscene squelch of Gyuvin's fingers pumping in and out of your sopping wet cunt echoes through the room, intermingling with your strangled whimpers. Your thighs quiver uncontrollably, clamping around his wrist like a vice as he relentlessly drives you towards the peak. The sheets under you are drenched with your juices, the pungent aroma of sex permeating the air.

Gyuvin’s smug grin widens, his fingers glistening with your arousal as he holds them up for Ricky to witness. “Fuck, she's absolutely drenched,” he taunts, his voice dripping with self-assurance. “Is she always this goddamn wet... even with you, Ricky?”

Ricky’s jaw tenses, his hands curling into tight fists, white-knuckled with the effort of restraining himself. The urge to wipe that infuriating smirk off Gyuvin's face, to make him pay for touching what's his, is almost overwhelming. Of course he doesn't want this. Of course you're not usually this wet. This ready, this desperate for anyone's touch but his. Not with him. Never with him.

So why now? Why with Gyuvin? The question gnaws at him, eroding his confidence. Is Gyuvin just more skilled, more experienced? Does he know something Ricky doesn't? The thought makes bile rise in his throat.

You lay there, confused and overwhelmed, your mind reeling. You didn't understand why Ricky brought Gyuvin here, into your bedroom. Into your bed. You clamp down hard on your lower lip, trying to muffle the moans that threaten to burst out of you as Gyuvin stretches you open with a second finger.

A solitary tear rolls down your cheek, and Ricky is instantly by your side. He tenderly brushes it away, leaning in close. “It's alright,” he murmurs, his breath scorching your ear. “You can let go. Feel it. React.”

Ricky's teeth graze your sensitive nipple, sending jolts of painful pleasure through your body. He suckles roughly, tugging and twisting the other peak between his fingers. It's a stark contrast to the gentle, worshipful way he usually touches you when it's just the two of you. Like he's trying to mark you, claim you, stake his territory in the face of Gyuvin's bold advances.

The dual sensations of Ricky's mouth on your breast and Gyuvin's fingers pumping in your dripping cunt are almost too much to bear. You arch off the bed, a long, keening moan escaping your lips. But Ricky and Gyuvin don't let up, working you from both ends with single—minded focus.

“Can I put it in?” Gyuvin asks Ricky, his voice low and rough with lust. But Ricky just shrugs, deflecting the question.

“Don't ask me, ask her. It's her body.”

Gyuvin turns to you, his eyes dark with desire. You bite your lip, torn between the warring sensations of shame and arousal. You glance at Ricky uncertainly, but he's busy biting and sucking at your breasts, your fingers tangled in his hair. The sharp sting of pain mingles with the pleasure, making you gasp.

Hesitantly, you give a small nod, not trusting your voice. Gyuvin grins, wasting no time in shoving his boxers down and positioning himself at your entrance. You're so wet, so ready, that he slides in with barely any resistance, stretching you wide around his thick length.

“Fuck, this pussy is so sweet,” Gyuvin groans, his eyes rolling back in bliss. “Can't believe you were enjoying this for years, Ricky. What a lucky bastard.”

You whimper as he starts to move, each thrust dragging his cock along your sensitive walls. It's not that Gyuvin is necessarily bigger than Ricky, but he's in excellent shape, his muscles rippling as he pistons his hips.

Your mind reels as Gyuvin and Ricky work in tandem, their cocks stretching you to the limit from both ends. One thick shaft pistoning in and out of your dripping cunt, the other filling your mouth, muffling your desperate whimpers. It's almost too much to process, the overwhelming fullness, the obscene wet sounds of their coupling.

Ricky grips your hair, guiding your head as he thrusts shallowly between your lips. “That's it, doll,” he rasps, his voice strained with pleasure. “Such a good girl, taking both our cocks like a champ.”

His words send a shiver down your spine, even as tears leak from the corners of your eyes. The salty tang of pre—cum coats your tongue as you swirl it around Ricky's length, hollowing your cheeks to suck him deeper.

Gyuvin sets a relentless pace, his heavy balls slapping against your ass with each powerful thrust. The lewd squelch of your sopping wet pussy being pounded fills the room, intermingling with the wet gagging.

It's filthy, degrading, everything you never knew you craved. The taboo thrill of being used like this, sandwiched between two hard, pulsing cocks, sends you hurtling towards the edge embarrassingly quickly.

Your inner walls flutter and clench around Gyuvin's pistoning shaft as your orgasm crashes over you. You moan around Ricky's cock, the vibrations making him groan and tighten his grip on your hair.

“She came too soon...” Gyuvin chuckles breathlessly, his thrusts never faltering. “Guess we know who the real stud is, eh Ricky?”

Ricky's jaw clenches, his ego bruised by the implication. He bucks his hips, driving his cock deeper down your throat until you gag and splutter.

Ricky yanks his throbbing cock out of your mouth, his face twisted in a scowl as he roughly shoves Gyuvin away from you. “Told you not to come inside her,” he growls, his voice low and dangerous. “Only I get to do that.”

Gyuvin holds his hands up in surrender, nodding quickly. “Understood, man. My bad.” He steps back, giving you both some space as he watches Ricky line up his cock and plunge into your dripping cunt.

You moan wantonly as your boyfriend's familiar length stretches you open, your tongue darting out to lap up the glistening strands of pre—cum that dribble down your chin. The taste is intoxicating, salty and musky, and you can't help but crave more.

Ricky grips your hips tightly, setting a punishing pace as he pounds into you. The wet, obscene slap of skin on skin fills the room, intermingling with your desperate whimpers and moans. “Better?” he pants, his voice strained with the effort of holding back.

“Mmm... you always feel better than anyone...” you murmur breathlessly, and it's not even a lie. No matter how good Gyuvin felt stretching you open, nothing compares to the way Ricky fills you up, hitting all the right spots with each powerful thrust.

Ricky's eyes darken with lust at your words, his hips snapping forward with renewed vigor. “Yeah? You mean that, baby?” he rasps, leaning down to capture your lips in a searing kiss.

Your answer is lost in a moan as he drives into you particularly deep, his pelvis grinding against your sensitive clit. The added stimulation sends you hurtling over the edge once again, your inner walls clamping down around Ricky's pistoning cock.

“Fuck, I'm gonna... gonna...” Ricky groans, his thrusts becoming erratic as his own climax approaches. With a final, guttural moan, he buries himself to the hilt inside you.

You watch through hooded eyes as Ricky's hips stutter and jerk, his cock pulsing inside your fluttering walls as he reaches his peak. Thick ropes of cum paint your insides, marking you as his, claiming you in the most primal way possible. The feeling of his hot seed filling you up sends aftershocks of pleasure rippling through your body, drawing out your own orgasm until you're both spent and panting.

As Ricky collapses on top of you, his weight pressing you into the mattress, you catch a glimpse of Gyuvin out of the corner of your eye. He's standing there, his hand wrapped around his own impressive length, stroking himself with a look of utter fascination on his face.

“Fuck, that was intense,” Ricky murmurs, pressing a tender kiss to your sweaty brow. “You did so good, baby.” You can only nod weakly in response, too wrung out to form words. Your body feels like jelly, every muscle loose and pliant as the afterglow washes over you. Ricky's softening cock slips out of your abused hole with a wet squelch, a trickle of his cum following in its wake.

Gyuvin clears his throat awkwardly, drawing your attention. “Well, uh... guess that settles it. You definitely prefer Ricky's dick,” he says with a rueful chuckle, though there's no real bite to his words. He seems more impressed than anything.

Ricky grins smugly, rolling off of you to sprawl beside you on the bed. “Damn right she does. What did I tell you?” He reaches out to possessively squeeze your ass, making you squeak.

NOTE FROM SENA , this request is soooooo good! (i had to pause writing the other requests and take this one first because c'mon, i personally love this one a lot 🫶🏻)

© 2024 all rights reserved to fanbasetwo !

[fanbasetwo]

Loser boyfriend Park Gun Wook head canons, please.

LOSER BF GUNWOOK HEADCANONS!!

NOTE FROM SENA , wrote this last minute so it might not be perfect but yeah—hope you enjoy this anon MASTERLIST!!

join my taglist by sending an ask or commenting here <3

001. SFW SECTION

LOSER BOYFRIEND GUNWOOK ! who sends you about fifteen texts in a row if you don't reply to him in ten minutes, ranging from “did you fall asleep?” to “are you mad at me?” to “fine, I'll leave you alone... unless you reply now.”

LOSER BOYFRIEND GUNWOOK ! who loves hugging you randomly, especially from behind, burying his face in your neck and whining about how he missed you.

LOSER BOYFRIEND GUNWOOK ! who tries to kiss you in the middle of the street, then panics if anyone sees and insists, “we need to move. someone’s judging us!”

LOSER BOYFRIEND GUNWOOK ! who once tried to cook a romantic dinner for you and accidentally set off the fire alarm. You ended up eating instant noodles together while laughing until your stomach hurt.

LOSER BOYFRIEND GUNWOOK ! who playfully “competes” with your pet for your attention, saying things like, “Why is p/n getting more cuddles than me? I thought I was your baby!”

LOSER BOYFRIEND GUNWOOK ! who spends weeks planning the “perfect” gift, only to get so nervous that he blurts, “I didn’t know if you’d like it, but here’s... a coupon for unlimited hugs?”

LOSER BOYFRIEND GUNWOOK ! who sings cheesy love songs to you at karaoke but immediately hides his face in your shoulder from embarrassment after.

LOSER BOYFRIEND GUNWOOK ! who thinks he’s the hero when he picks you up bridal style. Will make a big show of it, pretending to struggle (even though he’s strong) to make you laugh.

LOSER BOYFRIEND GUNWOOK ! who despite his tough-guy physique, he runs to you like an overexcited golden retriever whenever you show up unexpectedly.

002. NSFW SECTION

LOSER BOYFRIEND GUNWOOK ! who’s a total cuddler and always wants to spoon after sex, even if you're both sweaty and sticky. He nuzzles your neck and tells you how much he loves you.

LOSER BOYFRIEND GUNWOOK ! who’s a bit of a boob guy and always wants to play with your tits. He calls them his “stress balls” and likes to squeeze them.

LOSER BOYFRIEND GUNWOOK ! who’s a bit of a sweet tooth and always wants to feed you chocolate during foreplay. He thinks it's sexy to lick it off your body.

LOSER BOYFRIEND GUNWOOK ! who is always so excited to see you naked that he gets an instant boner. His cock springs to attention the second your clothes come off.

LOSER BOYFRIEND GUNWOOK ! who is a bit of a squirter. When he cums, it sprays everywhere in a messy, sticky stream. He always apologizes for the mess afterwards.

LOSER BOYFRIEND GUNWOOK ! who is a growler. During sex, he lets out these adorable little grunts and groans. It's almost like he's communicating with you telepathically.

LOSER BOYFRIEND GUNWOOK ! who is a fan of quickies. He always wants to bend you over and fuck you hard and fast whenever the urge strikes.

© 2024 , all rights reserved to fanbasetwo !

[fanbasetwo]

Hii love! I couldn’t tell if your asks are open or not but I wanted to request reader having their first kiss with hao </3☹️

I love your writing so much btw! 🤍

NOTE : my asks are always open but you can still check it out on the pinned post where I do mention the ask status (if it's closed or not) this is my first hao ask btw + tysm for the compliment, I'm glad you enjoy my works 💕 MASTERLIST!!

You and Zhang Hao had been together since high school. When it was time to grow up and explore job opportunities, the two of you managed to make long-distance work, though you’d always joked about who’d be the one to kiss first once you reunited. When Hao finally moved back to your city after landing a job, things shifted—not in a bad way, but definitely in a new direction. You both decided to live together because, honestly, after five years of dating, it didn’t feel like a big leap.

Still, there were moments of awkwardness, like when you’d share the same bed at night. Sure, you’d cuddle, but neither of you ever took it further—not because you didn’t want to, but because you were both too shy to take the first step. Every touch felt hesitant, every glance carrying the weight of unspoken feelings.

“Hao?” you whispered, nudging him gently. He was sprawled on the bed after a long day at work, clearly exhausted. You both split rent evenly, and lately, you’d noticed how much effort he put into his job. He hummed softly, his body shifting as he turned on his side to face you. Without a word, he pulled you closer, his arm draped around your waist.

“Did you have a hard time at work?” you asked, your voice barely above a murmur as your sleepy eyes met his. He blinked at you, his gaze warm yet hesitant, before one hand reached up to cup your cheek.

“It’s not work,” he said quietly, shaking his head slightly.

“Then what is it?” you pressed, your curiosity piqued.

He hesitated for a moment, his thumb gently brushing against your skin. “It’s about us,” he admitted, his voice soft but tinged with uncertainty. “Are you... not attracted to me anymore?” The question caught you off guard, and you frowned, trying to piece together why he’d think that. “Of course I’m attracted to you,” you replied quickly, your tone laced with confusion. “Why would you feel otherwise?”

He let out a small sigh, looking almost embarrassed. “Because... you never, you know... take any hints. And you don’t really drop any hints either. About wanting... my kisses.”

His words trailed off, his cheeks dusted with a faint pink as he avoided your gaze. You stared at him for a moment before giggling softly, the nervousness between you both dissolving just a little. “Is it because I smell?” he asked suddenly, his tone half-serious, making you laugh even harder.

“Hao, no!” you managed to say through your giggles, shaking your head. “I’m just... nervous.”

“Then... can we do it now?” Hao's voice was barely a whisper, his nose brushing against yours as his hand rested gently on your cheek.

“Right now?” you echoed, your heart racing at his sudden question. His shy yet eager nod made your cheeks flush, and though you wanted to take the lead, the thought itself made you feel timid.

“Okay,” you murmured, giving a small nod of your own.

Neither of you moved at first, the shyness between you lingering in the space where your breaths mingled. It was as though a silent agreement passed between you: close your eyes and let it happen naturally. You squeezed your eyes shut, nerves buzzing through your entire body. And then, it happened—a soft, fleeting brush of his lips against yours. The touch sent a jolt down your spine, warm and electric, leaving you breathless even in its gentleness.

Both of you were lying on your sides, facing each other, and though the moment was slightly awkward, it was perfect in its own way. You tried to remember the romantic scenes you'd seen in dramas and movies, hesitantly capturing his upper lip between your own. Hao followed suit, tentatively suckling on your bottom lip, his movements clumsy yet tender. The kiss was inexperienced, both of you unsure of what to do next, but that only made it more endearing.

Your lips moved together in a rhythm that was anything but polished, yet the emotions behind it made your chest feel tight in the best way. With every soft press, every subtle tilt of your heads, you felt your connection deepen.

It wasn’t perfect or seamless, but it was real, filled with the quiet love and nervous excitement you’d built over the years.

When you finally pulled away, both of you were breathless, faces mere inches apart as you opened your eyes. Hao’s lips were slightly parted, his cheeks glowing with a faint blush as he grinned at you.

“That was...” he began, trailing off as he searched for the right word.

You giggled, touching your lips lightly. “Messy?”

“Perfect,” he corrected, his gaze soft and adoring.

[fanbasetwo]

first time w anton? virgin anton x virgin reader?

IM ON MY KNEES BEGGING YOU 🙂

✦ BABY GIRL, 143 ! ANTON

001. PAIRING , virgin anton × virgin reader

002. SYNOPSIS , anton had been away from you for some months and now when he was back, you showed him all the texts you had seen on his phone. only ending up sealing the deal at the end.

003. GENRE , smut

004. WARNING(S) , kissing, a little dirty talk but anton is just shameless lol, teasing, pussy slapping, little to no prep, boob play, nipple play (slightly), they make up pretty early after fight, hymen breaking, mentions of blood and pain, too much plot if you ask me, lmk if I missed anything.

005. WORD COUNT , 1.8K

MASTERLIST!! join my taglist by sending an ask or commenting here <3

You had been dating Anton for a few years now. You met through a dating app, and while some might find that odd, you both clicked instantly. For better or worse, you fell in love.

Since you started dating at a young age, you both decided to seek job opportunities outside of town, which meant navigating a long-distance relationship. While many say long-distance relationships often fizzle out, that wasn’t the case for you two.

In fact, Anton would send you those silly memes that made you laugh and would video call you while cooking, asking for your advice if he messed something up. His friends teased you, saying you two were practically a married couple, and while there was some truth to that, the more accurate reality was that you both missed each other terribly.

So when he finally returned after landing a high-paying job—while you worked part-time as a cashier to cover rent—he insisted on paying your rent, but you turned him down.

The relationship seemed perfect, especially with his visit after what felt like two long years apart. But everything changed when you accidentally glanced at his phone. A text from a number with a heart emoji as a name read, “Is my baby fine?” In that moment, the realization hit you hard: the person you thought was your boyfriend was cheating on you.

“SO YOU CHEATED?!” you shouted as soon as you heard him enter the apartment. Anton, always the goofy one, jumped back in surprise at your furious tone and asked, feigning ignorance, “I’m not sure what you're talking about.”

“The message!” you ground out through clenched teeth, pointing at his phone, which he had mistakenly left behind.

As understanding seemed to dawn on him, he cursed under his breath and then smiled, which only confused you more. Why was he smiling? Shouldn’t he be trying to explain himself? Did those years together not mean anything to him?

Then he stepped closer, and instinctively, you took a step back until your back hit the wall of your apartment. His hands cupped your face as he said, “Hmm… Why would you trust the text so much? The ‘baby’ wasn’t me. The ‘baby’ was her dog, the one she asked me to take care of for a while.”

You didn’t buy it, so you pressed on, “Oh really? Then why does her username have a heart?”

He paused for a moment but answered without hesitation, even though you glared at him. “Well, maybe because that’s my mom?”

Processing that, your eyes widened. It actually made a sick sort of sense. The woman in the profile picture looked significantly older and bore some resemblance to Anton. Now you found yourself in a strange situation, filled with doubt.

You had just confronted your longtime boyfriend, your heart racing at the thought of betrayal, all sparked by a simple text while he gently held your face in his hands. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, his voice filled with sincerity.

“I’m hurt, but I’ll find it in my heart to forgive you. I could never cheat on you, Y/N,” he reassured, resting his forehead against yours, the warmth of his skin anchoring you in that moment.

It took you back to when your love was fresh and innocent, when you were just seventeen, lost in each other’s world. Those years apart felt like an eternity, and as you closed your eyes, you longed for the sweetness of his touch, the electric thrill of his lips on yours.

The kiss deepened, a beautiful melody played by your lips as you moved together in perfect sync. He pulled away just enough to catch his breath before diving back in, his tongue tracing gentle patterns that sent shivers down your spine.

You felt the rhythm of your tongues entwining, a lovely exploration you had only ever dreamed of. You had talked about waiting for one another, yet now you felt the exhilarating unknown of your connection. His hands traveled up your shirt, igniting tingles on your skin, and as he broke the kiss to rest his forehead against yours, the world around you faded away.

“Can I touch you more?” he asked, his hands gliding under your shirt as he looked at you with such intensity and love, as if he had been waiting for this moment forever. The truth was, both of you were a bit inexperienced in this area, but let’s be honest, you both wanted to explore… so you nodded.

Before long, his hands were cupping your breasts beneath your shirt and bra. He was touching your bare skin. You could feel both of your breaths hitching; it was something new for the two of you after all.

You feel Anton's warm breath on your face as he leans in close, his lips softly brushing against yours in a tender kiss. "I can... really touch, right?" he murmurs, looking for your confirmation before pulling you closer, his strong arms wrapping around you. His tongue dances with yours as the kiss deepens, sending tingles through your body.

When you nod, he breaks the kiss, and his hands move with a swiftness that takes your breath away. Your shirt and bra are discarded in one smooth motion, leaving your bare skin exposed to his hungry gaze. His thumbs find your nipples, rubbing the sensitive buds until they harden into tight peaks. You can't help but let out a soft moan as waves of pleasure wash over you, your back pressed firmly against the wall.

Suddenly, you're airborne as Anton scoops you up in his arms, cradling you securely against his chest. A warm feeling envelops you, and you can't help but wish that at least one of you had some experience with this. "You don't mind, right?" he asks, his voice tinged with uncertainty as he lays you down gently on the bed.

"Yeah, but..." you trail off, a hint of nervousness creeping into your tone. "Do you know how to...? At least one of us should know what we're doing."

Anton crawls on top of you, his powerful body hovering over yours. He leans down, planting a soft kiss between the valley of your breasts before looking up at you from between them. A sheepish grin spreads across his face. "I may have watched some... for scientific purposes, of course," he adds with a playful wink.

His arousal is evident, a hardened bulge straining against the fabric of his pants. It brushes against your jeans, sending shivers through both of you.

Your eyes flutter shut as Anton unbuttons his pants, the sound of fabric sliding against fabric filling the room. He discards them on the floor, along with your own jeans, the cool air brushing against your now bare skin. His large hand envelops your smaller one, guiding it towards his clothed bulge. You both hitch a breath as your fingers make contact, his arousal evident beneath the thin fabric.

"See what you do to me?" he whispers, his voice low and husky with need. You swallow hard, your heart thumping in your chest as he pushes his boxers down, and you see him, all hard and long, your eyes widening as a deep blush spreads across your cheeks at the exposed sight of him, vulnerable to you.

"Baby, you wanna put it in or do I?" he asks, unapologetic and direct, his tone incredulous. You squirm under him and look away, embarrassment exuding like a palpable scent.

"That's not quite. decent," you mumble, your voice barely more than a whisper.

Anton chuckles, a low, rich sound that sends shivers down your spine. "For what we're about to do, I don't think we should care about being decent," he says with a raised brow and a playful smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth as your clothes join his on the floor.

Again, his hand bumps against yours to move it to his bare cock. You can feel every ridge and vein beneath your fingertips, the heat of his skin searing against your own. Your shyness returns, but there's no denying the effect your touch has on him. He groans and his hips bulge slightly as your hand is constricted around his length.

"Have you never slept with anyone?" you ask, a note of skepticism creeping into your voice because of how confident he seemed. He shakes his head, the dark locks falling across his forehead.

"It's because I love you and I trust you," he breathes, words stuttered over a guttural curse as your hand tightens its grip. "Fuck.”

Your grip tightens on the shoulder of Anton as his cock teases your wetness, the head slapping lightly against your pussy. He lets out a sigh as that anticipation builds between you and him. "I am going to put it in," he whispers, his gaze searching yours for any sign of disapproval. Finding none, he slowly pushes forward, the tip of his cock breaching your entrance.

A shiver of agony rips across you as your cherry is broken, drops of blood trickling down into your pussy. Tears well up from your squeezed eyes, your body tensing against this strange sensation. Anton buries his face in the crook of your neck, his own breathing in ragged gasps. "It—h-hurts—" your voice cracks, the words barely audible.

He lifts his head, his eyes meeting yours as he asks, "Should I pull out?" Despite the guilt etched on his face, you shake your head stubbornly. "No, I want to do it." Your walls clench around him, your body instinctively trying to accommodate his size.

Anton takes a sharp breath of air. He waits a few moments before pushing deeper. A scream tears from your throat, your body arching off the bed as he sheathes himself fully inside you. Tears stream down your face, and he leans down, capturing your lips in a tender kiss as he stills, allowing you to adjust to the intrusion.

"This is good, right? You're not scared now. are you?" he whispers against your lips, his hips rocking gently, your body slowly relaxing as it grows accustomed to the stretch.

"Mm." is all you can say, your mind dazed by the shocks of the sensations. His cock spasms inside you, and you and he are suddenly acutely aware of the crimson stain spreading across the sheets. Concern flickers in his eyes, but he knows this is normal, a testament to your lost innocence.

"It's okay, baby. It's supposed to hurt a little the first time," Anton reassures you, his voice soft and soothing. He kisses your tears away, his lips trailing along your cheek and down your neck. "I've got you. We'll go slow."

He starts to move, his hips rocking gently against yours, easing you into the rhythm. Each thrust sends a wave of pleasure mixed with discomfort, your body struggling to adapt to the foreign sensation of being filled so completely.

"Breathe, Y/N. In and out," he coaches, his own breathing ragged as he fights to maintain control. "Tell me how it feels. If it's too much, I'll stop."

You whimper, your nails digging into his shoulders as you try to focus on the instructions. "I-It's intense," you manage, your voice trembling. "But don't stop. I want to feel all of you."

NOTE FROM SENA , this was genuinely just supposed to be a drabble, how the hell is this 1.8k words 😭💕

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