#ricky shen

[seokmattchuus]

When Ricky said that you could come watch them film for the new music video, he didn't expect you to dress up for him. Thank god the dressing rooms had locks.

But too bad they were so close to the filming area.

[chaey2k]

⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀Sex, ⠀⠀Drugs, ⠀⠀Etc. ⠀ ᳝᳜᳝᳜᳝᳜᳝᳜᳝᳜ᰯ ⠀ ♫ 🖇 ‧

[cyberkunizz]

I went fucking RABID after seeing this photo something inside me went off😻😻

i just had to write a fast bf!ricky thought bc why not🤗

tw: mirror sex, pet names, praises, semi-public (in the practice room) edging, mentions of crying (out of pleasure), not v well written but i think its okay enough, if you think i missed something lmk!!

Imagine bf!ricky surprising you with his new hair color, knowing you’ve wanted to see him with black hair. But he also prepared you another surprise, and that is bending you in the practice room, infront of the big mirror, fucking you mercilessly.

bf!ricky who would fuck all of his stress out while he’s with you, praising you with sayings like “such a good doll for me, arent you?” and “good girl, taking me so well” while he starts thrusting deeper into you, making you moan louder

bf!ricky who at first was telling you to keep quiet because he doesn’t want the others to hear, but quickly gives up on that once he hears how good you sound moaning his name

bf!ricky who purposely edges you a couple of times so he can see you fall apart for him once you actually cum, telling you how “you did so well for me, darling” and “my baby looked so pretty” while softly kissing your tear-stained cheeks

bf!ricky who helps you clean up and gives you a piggy-back ride to the car because he may have went a little to hard on you, especially with you bending on a mirror, standing

bf!ricky who helps you shower when you get home (it always becomes a round 2) and helps get you to bed, cuddling you to sleep while still saying how you’re the most perfect person for him, and how he loves you more than anyone

SEDATE ME ONGG😭😭

[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

[niki-phoria]

나란히 걷는 우릴 따라서 / 반짝이는 snowflake, 설렘은 can't stop it, baby

notes: gn!reader (no pronouns used), 438 words of me missing blonde ricky, inspo for his outfit is the same one as the icon, barely proofread !! pls forgive any mistakes, title from zb1 - melting point

SHEN RICKY cocks his head as he looks at you through the mirror, smirking softly. the silver accents of his stage outfit shine even beneath the dim bathroom lights. “you’re staring.” 

you chuckle quietly, shaking your head as you take a step closer. you raise a hand to adjust the edge of his suit, smoothing out the edges of his collar. the fabric has been pristinely ironed, tailored to fit his body perfectly. “you’re handsome.” 

ricky laughs, shaking his head. nimble hands move to fasten his favourite cross earring in place; the silver jewelry perfectly matches the silver accents littering his suit jacket. “you always say that.” 

taking a step closer, you wrap your arms around his shoulders. ricky smiles, silently allowing you to guide him backwards until his back rests against the door. “because it’s always true.”

leaning in, ricky rests his forehead against your own. his fingertips slowly trace miscellaneous shapes against your hips. the feeling sends shivers racing down your spine and warmth spreading across your face. 

“ricky,” you murmur. your hands curl into the fabric of his suit, urging him to step even closer. reaching up with your free hand, you brush a stray strand of hair out of his eyes. warmth spreads across his face, tinting the tips of his ears pink. 

you can almost hear how his breath hitches in his throat. his lips just barely ghost against your own. the anticipation sends shivers racing down your spine. “yeah?”  

your hand falls, trailing your fingertips along the underside of his jaw. ricky’s eyes are the colour of honey when his gaze meets your own. you chuckle at the faint blush that begins to spread across his cheeks and the tips of his ears. 

ricky’s touch feels like lightning. butterflies swarm throughout your stomach relentlessly. he eyes flutter shut when you lean in, so close that your lips just barely brush against his own. “kiss me,” you whisper, nearly breathless.

he smiles softly. you can feel the corners of his lips curl upwards when your lips finally meet his. you can vaguely smell the strawberry chapstick he had applied previously. his lips move in tandem with yours. your bodies fall into a dance you’ve done many times before, meeting and parting in a steady, unmistakable rhythm. 

you’re nearly panting by the time you pull away. you can feel your heartbeat racing in your chest. “was that good enough?” he asks. ricky’s hands move to tilt your face upwards until your gaze meets his. “or do you still want more?”

“shut up,” you chuckle, leaning in to press your lips against his once more. 

if you liked this fic, please comment, reblog, or leave feedback !! and if you want to support me, check out my zb1 masterlist <33

[gvnvks]

// zb1 boys wanting your attention / affection.

> pairings: non-idol!zb1 x fem-reader

> warnings: pet names, a lot of touch, lowercase intended, not proofread

> song recommendation: crazy by luminous (DRIVE ME CRAZY CRAZY OOH CRAZY CRAZY)

> a/n: i think im back but like fr now… thank yall for 500 followers!!

// 김 jiwoong.

seated at a corner table, you were engrossed in your work, laptop open, fingers dancing across the keyboard. lost in your world of words and ideas, you hardly noticed jiwoong, your ever-adoring boyfriend, quietly sipping his latte at the opposite side of the table.

he gazed at you with a warm, affectionate smile, his eyes sparkling like sunlight on a tranquil lake. with a playful twinkle, he began, “you know, ive always thought that if words were colors, the ones you type would paint the most beautiful masterpiece.”

you looked up, surprised by his poetic remark. a soft blush tinged your cheeks as you replied, “oh, come on. you're just saying that to distract me.”

jiwoong chuckled, his laughter like a soft melody. “maybe i am. but can you blame me? i can't resist stealing your attention away from those words for just a moment.”

you rolled your eyes playfully. “you're shameless.” he leaned forward, his voice turning slightly serious. “i'm shamelessly in love with you.”

a delighted giggle escaped your lips. “flattery will get you everywhere, you know.”

jiwoongs gaze turned thoughtful as he looked out of the window, his eyes fixed on the swaying branches of a nearby tree. “you know, watching the leaves dance in the wind reminds me of you. effortlessly beautiful and always moving forward.”

you leaned back, your heart fluttering at his words. “smooth talker.”

“im just speaking from the heart,” he said, his fingers tracing an imaginary path on the table. “and my heart tells me that i miss you even though you're right in front of me.”

your fingers paused over the keyboard, a soft smile tugging at your lips. “youre the one who chose to come with me to the café, remember?”

your boyfriend sighed dramatically, a hand on his chest. “ah, but my heart didn't get the memo. its been pining for your attention.”

with an exaggerated roll of your eyes, you pushed your laptop aside. “alright, you win. what do you want, mr. heart-pining?”

he grinned, his eyes gleaming mischievously. “just a kiss to tide my heart over until youre done conquering the literary world.”

a delighted laugh bubbled up from your chest as you leaned across the table, meeting him halfway. your lips met in a sweet, lingering kiss that felt like a promise of forever.

as you pulled back, jiwoongs eyes held a mix of adoration and playfulness. “thank you for indulging my heart.”

“youre welcome,” you replied, your fingers now entwined with his. “but only because youre my favorite distraction.”

// 장 hao.

you stood by a large window, your voice weaving a gentle tapestry of words as you spoke to your mother over the phone. the room itself seemed to listen, its walls echoing with your laughter and the comforting words exchanged.

unbeknownst to you, hao watched from a distance, his heart swelling with affection for the beautiful scene before him. his tousled hair and sleepy eyes hinted at a man who had just risen from dreams, but his determination sparkled brighter than the morning sun. a mischievous grin tugged at the corners of his lips as he plotted his charming disruption.

with a soft, silent step, your boyfriend closed the distance between you. his fingers brushed over the piano, and a soft melody trickled into the air, a backdrop for his silent advance. your voice continued to flow, but his eyes met yours, a playful gleam dancing within them. as his fingers reached you, they brushed against your arm in a featherlight touch.

your startled laughter bubbled through the phone, a melody that blended with the piano's notes. “mom, i think there's a tickle monster on the loose!” you teased, glancing toward hao. he chuckled, his fingers stilling on the keys.

“im innocent, i swear,” he chimed, his voice a gentle harmony to the symphony of the morning.

your mothers laughter resonated through the phone, a distant yet warm presence. “well, it sounds like you two are having a wonderful morning.”

haos fingers now traced patterns along your forearm, leaving a trail of tingling sensations in their wake. “speaking of wonderful mornings, i think this one could be even more wonderful if someone would spare a moment for her boyfriend.”

you rolled your eyes in playful exasperation. “hao, youre not going to give up, are you?”

his gaze held yours, his eyes twinkling. “never, especially not when it comes to winning your affection.”

a soft sigh escaped you, one that carried the depth of your fondness. “mom, ive got a persistent charmer here who wont let me concentrate.”

her laughter flowed through the line, a soft caress. “well, dear, enjoy these moments. love like that is a treasure.”

your boyfriends fingers found their way to your cheeks, his touch warm against your skin. “see, even your mom agrees. now, how about a kiss?”

you glanced at him, feigning resistance. “oh, fine. but only if you promise to behave afterward.”

his eyes danced with playful mischief as his lips met yours in a sweet, lingering kiss. “deal,” he murmured against your lips, his voice a whispered promise.

// 성 hanbin.

a gentle hum of laughter and conversations filled the air as you and your friends sat around the table, immersed in your chatter. the table was adorned with a bouquet of vibrant wildflowers, their colors echoing the joyous atmosphere.

hanbin leaned back comfortably in his chair, a playful glint in his eyes. hed been trying to catch your attention all evening, but you were engrossed in your friends' anecdotes.

as one of your friends animatedly recounted a hilarious work story, hanbin softly cleared his throat from beside you. you glanced at him, and he flashed you an endearing smile that made your heart skip a beat.

“you know,” he began casually, “i heard they have the most amazing desserts here. maybe we should order something sweet to share?”

you nodded in agreement, and your attention returned to your friends. your boyfriends hand found its way to the back of your chair, his fingers gently grazing your shoulder, sending a tingling sensation down your spine. he leaned in a little closer, his voice a hushed whisper only you could hear.

“i think youre the sweetest thing here, though,” he teased, his lips brushing against your earlobe. you stifled a giggle, trying to keep your composure as his words sent warmth rushing to your cheeks.

just as you thought hanbin might be satisfied with his display of affection, he took it up a notch. your friend was now sharing a particularly amusing anecdote, and hanbins fingers lightly traced patterns on your forearm, his touch featherlight and barely noticeable to anyone else. your skin prickled with awareness, and you shot him a sideways glance.

“what are you doing?” you whispered, a playful glint in your eyes as you caught on to his game.

hanbin grinned mischievously. “who, me? im just appreciating the fine art of touch communication.”

you chuckled softly, leaning closer to him. “well, mr. communication expert, what else do you have up your sleeve?”

his eyes sparkled with excitement as he leaned even closer, his lips now barely brushing against your ear. “how about this?” he murmured, his fingers tracing a heartwarming pattern on the inside of your wrist.

you couldnt help the soft sigh that escaped your lips. hanbin always knew how to make your heart dance with delight. as the evening progressed, you found yourself stealing glances and exchanging secret smiles with him, a silent dialogue of affection that only the two of you shared.

and as the night drew to a close, dessert plates now cleared, hanbins hand found yours beneath the table, his fingers interlocking with yours in a silent promise of forever.

// 석 matthew.

in the clinking of weights and the hum of machines filling the air, you were engrossed in your workout routine, headphones on, completely absorbed in the rhythm of your exercises.

your boyfriend stood nearby, a playful and yet proud smile tugging at the corners of his lips. he watched you lift dumbbells with focused determination, your brows slightly furrowed. unable to resist any longer, he strolled over and leaned against a nearby machine, his warm brown eyes fixated on you.

“youre looking incredibly impressive there,” he quipped, his voice a playful whisper that barely reached your ears above the music.

you blinked, momentarily taken aback before a grin broke across your face. “oh, so you think im finally lifting as much as you?”

matthew chuckled, his gaze dancing with amusement. “well, i wouldnt go that far. but youre definitely getting there.”

as you continued your set, matthews fingers lightly grazed your arm, causing a pleasant shiver to race down your spine. “need any pointers?” he asked, a hint of boyish charm in his tone.

you rolled your eyes playfully. “i think ive got this, thank you very much.”

he leaned in closer, his voice a conspiratorial whisper. “ive seen your squats, and i must admit, theyre pretty impressive.”

a soft flush crept up your cheeks, but you tried to hide it by focusing on your next set. your boyfriend seemed determined to keep your attention, however. with a grin, he gently adjusted your posture, his fingers guiding your movements. “here, a little shift in your stance will give you better balance.”

you complied, surprised by how his touch not only corrected your form but also sent a pleasant warmth radiating through you. “thanks, i can feel the difference.”

matthews fingers lingered for a moment longer than necessary, his touch becoming a lingering caress. “anytime, my personal training services are always available,” he teased.

betwixt the exchanged flirtatious glances and playfully bickering comments, matthews care and affection were evident. he fetched a water bottle for you, making sure you stayed hydrated, and subtly encouraged you through the more challenging sets.

as the session continued, he surprised you by joining in, effortlessly matching your pace. “you make this look so easy,” you huffed, sweat-drenched and slightly breathless.

matthew grinned, his shirt clinging to his chest as he mimicked your exercises. “well, someones gotta make sure youre not the only one suffering here.”

// 김 taerae.

as you stood by the stove, carefully flipping pancakes, your boyfriend entered the kitchen with a rascal expression. “hey there,” he chimed, wrapping his arms around your waist from behind. his touch was both affectionate and reassuring.

you chuckled, focusing on not letting the pancakes burn. “good morning, taerae. whats the occasion for this sneak attack?”

he rested his chin on your shoulder, observing your culinary skills with genuine admiration. “no occasion. i just realized how lucky i am to have a girlfriend who can turn flour and eggs into something magical.”

you rolled your eyes playfully. “yeah. youre just buttering me up because you want some pancakes.”

“guilty as charged,” he admitted with a chuckle. his fingers traced gentle circles on your waist, sending shivers down your spine. “but also because i want some of your attention too.”

you finally turned off the stove and turned to face him, your eyes meeting his twinkling gaze. “you have my attention now. what do you want?”

taerae feigned innocence, his lips curling into a youthful grin. “hmm, maybe a kiss to start with?”

you pretended to consider his request, tapping your finger against your chin. “lets see. pancakes or a kiss… tough choice.”

he gasped in mock astonishment. “are you saying my kisses arent as delicious as your pancakes?”

you leaned in, pressing a sweet kiss to his lips. “definitely not as delicious, but close enough.”

he pulled you into a warm hug, his arms encircling you tightly. “ill take close enough.”

as you both swayed gently to an imaginary rhythm, the aroma of breakfast filled the air. taeraes fingers idly drew patterns on your back as he spoke softly. “you know, i think im addicted to your touch.”

you chuckled, nuzzling your head against his chest. “oh really? do you need a daily dose of my touch to function properly?”

“absolutely,” he replied without hesitation. “its like a warm, comforting energy that i cant get enough of.”

with the pancakes ready, you playfully extricated yourself from his embrace and set the table. “well, i guess i cant deny you your daily dose of affection then.”

he helped you with the plates, his eyes never leaving your face. “you know, im starting to believe that the best moments in life happen right here in this kitchen.”

you handed him a plate with a smirk. “are you saying that my cooking is the key to your heart?”

“among other things,” he teased, winking at you. “but honestly, its the love and laughter that fill this space that make it so special.”

// 리키 ricky.

as you saw the sun dipping below the horizon, casting a warm, golden hue over the quaint little restaurant, you found yourself seated at a beautifully set table alongside your family. the ambiance was serene, with gentle music playing in the background and the distant sounds of laughter and clinking cutlery from nearby tables. the scent of delectable dishes wafted through the air, making your stomach rumble in anticipation.

ricky sat beside you. he was dressed in a crisp white shirt that accentuated his blonde, tousled hair and his beautiful grin. you could feel his leg occasionally brushing against yours under the table, his way of seeking connection even in a crowd.

as the first course arrived, ricky leaned in slightly, his lips almost grazing your ear as he whispered, “hey, have i told you how stunning you look tonight?”

you chuckled softly, feeling a warm blush creep up your cheeks. “if im not mistaken, you already mentioned it thrice," you replied with a playful twinkle in your eye.

across the table, your sibling raised an eyebrow and grinned knowingly. “are you two whispering sweet nothings over there?” they teased.

your boyfriend leaned back, a sheepish grin on his face. “just trying to keep the romance alive,” he quipped, earning an amused chuckle from your parents.

as the main course was served, rickys fingers found their way to yours beneath the tablecloth. his touch was gentle and reassuring, a silent reminder of his presence amidst the family gathering. you intertwined your fingers with his, giving his hand a tender squeeze, and he responded with a loving smile that melted your heart.

between the clatter of cutlery and the hum of conversation, rickys foot subtly brushed against yours. you shot him a questioning look, and he raised an innocent eyebrow, feigning innocence. “oops, sorry,” he said, barely suppressing a mischievous grin.

your mother, ever perceptive, couldnt help but notice the exchange. she leaned in, a knowing smile on her lips. “just be sure to save some affection for dessert, you two,” she advised with a wink.

dessert arrived in the form of decadent chocolate cake, accompanied by a scoop of velvety vanilla ice cream. rickys eyes lit up as he took his first bite, and he couldnt resist offering you a forkful with an impish grin. “here, a taste of heaven.”

you indulged in the delicious treat, savoring the sweet and creamy flavors. “mmm, youre right. this is amazing,” you agreed, your eyes locked on his.

as the evening drew to a close, with your family engaged in cheerful chatter and laughter, rickys hand found its way to the small of your back. his touch was light yet possessive, a silent promise that he was there by your side, no matter the setting.

with a satisfied sigh, you leaned into his touch, feeling a sense of contentment wash over you. the restaurants warm lighting and the soft buzz of conversation created a cocoon of intimacy around the two of you.

as the night wound down and your family began to bid their farewells, your boyfriend stood up, helping you with your chair. his fingers brushed against yours again, his touch lingering as he leaned in to press a soft kiss to your cheek. “thanks for letting me crash your family dinner,” he whispered, his warm breath sending shivers down your spine.

you turned to him, your heart full of affection. “anytime, as long as you keep bringing that charming smile of yours,” you replied with a grin.

with a final, lingering touch, he intertwined his fingers with yours and led you out of the restaurant.

// 김 gyuvin.

as you sat on your plane seat, you decided to put on your favorite playlist, drowning out the noise of the plane engines with your favorite tunes.

beside you, gyuvin shifted in his seat, trying to find a comfortable position. he glanced over at you, an affectionate smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “hey, you,” he said, leaning in closer to you.

you looked up from your phone, surprised by his sudden closeness. “hey there,” you replied, taking out one earbud and offering him a curious smile.

“mind if i join your musical adventure?” he asked, gesturing to the empty seat next to you.

you grinned and removed the other earbud, handing it to him. “sure, pick a song.”

he scrolled through your playlist, his eyebrows raising in pleasant surprise. “you have great taste,” he noted before selecting a song.

as the music played, you both bobbed your heads slightly in time with the beat. the melody created a light, carefree atmosphere, perfect for the journey ahead. gyuvin leaned back in his seat, but his fingers couldn't seem to stay still. they tapped rhythmically against his thigh, his hand occasionally brushing against yours.

“you know,” he began, his tone casual, “ive heard that couples who listen to music together are destined to stay together.”

you chuckled, raising an eyebrow at him. “is that so? and whos your source for this theory?”

he pretended to ponder for a moment, his lips curling into a mischievous grin. “well, the source might be me, but its still a valid theory.”

you playfully rolled your eyes, but a warm feeling spread through your chest. his playful nature was one of the things you loved most about him. as the music continued, gyuvins leg brushed against yours more frequently. he let his pinky finger graze against yours, his touch sending a tingle up your spine.

turning to him, you teased, “is this your subtle way of asking for affection?”

he chuckled, his cheeks taking on a faint rosy hue. “maybe just a little,” he admitted. “i mean, its a long flight. a guy needs some cuddle time, right?”

you laughed softly, your heart swelling with adoration for this man beside you. “well, i guess i cant argue with that.”

leaning a bit closer, gyuvin intertwined his fingers with yours, his touch warm and reassuring. “see, thats better,” he said with a grin. “much cozier.”

the two of you shared a comfortable silence, the music playing in your ears as the plane continued its journey. the sun had now fully set, painting the sky with shades of deep purples and blues. the cabin lights were dimmed, creating an intimate ambiance.

your boyfriend leaned his head against yours, his breath tickling your ear. “you know, i wouldnt mind if this plane ride lasted a little longer,” he whispered, his voice carrying a hint of playfulness.

you turned your head to meet his gaze, your heart fluttering at the affection in his eyes. “whys that?”

he shrugged, his lips curling into a tender smile. “just means more time for us to listen to music, share some cuddles, and maybe steal a few kisses.”

blushing, you leaned in, capturing his lips with your own.

// 박 gunwook.

you lay in your bedroom, your peaceful slumber untouched by the world around you. your room was like a haven of serenity, decorated with gentle shades of pastel and sunbeams filtering through the sheer curtains.

with you being unaware, gunwook has arrived earlier that morning. a playful smile danced on his lips as he watched you sleep, cherishing the quiet moments when he could admire your beauty without your witty retorts. he sat at the edge of the bed, his tousled hair giving him an endearing charm.

“gosh, youre so adorable when you sleep,” gunwook mused to himself, his voice a tender whisper.

a faint snore escaped you, and he chuckled softly. leaning in, he brushed a stray lock of hair from your face. his fingers lingered on your cheek, caressing it ever so gently, as if he was painting his affection through touch.

your lips curved into a slight smile in response to his touch, even in your slumber. he leaned closer, his lips hovering just above your ear.

“hey sleepyhead, time to wake up,” he murmured, his warm breath tickling your skin.

you stirred, a sweet sigh escaping you. “five more minutes,” you mumbled, your words laced with sleep.

gunwooks fingers traced a delicate path down your arm, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. he chuckled again, the sound like a soothing melody. “you say that every morning, sweetheart.”

he let his fingers dance along your arm until they reached your hand. taking it in his, he gave it a gentle squeeze. “come on, the world is waiting for us today.”

you finally cracked open an eye, meeting his adoring gaze. “hmm, cant we just stay in bed forever?”

he laughed softly, his eyes sparkling with affection. “as tempting as that sounds, theres a whole day ahead of us. and ive got plans.”

your curiosity piqued, and you sat up slowly, rubbing the sleep from your eyes. “plans? what kind of plans?”

gunwooks grin widened. “ah, thats a secret for now. but first, i need you to be fully awake.” he tugged playfully at your hand.

you smirked, a playful glint in your eye. “so, waking me up is just a ploy to get my attention, huh?”

he leaned in, his lips brushing your forehead in a soft kiss. “well, that and the fact that i missed you.”

your heart fluttered at his words, a warm feeling spreading through you. “okay, okay, im up. but only because youre cute when you're desperate for attention."

your boyfriend feigned shock, a hand placed dramatically over his heart. “desperate for attention? me? never.”

you both shared a laugh, the sound filling the room with joy. as you got out of bed, gunwook wrapped his arms around you from behind, resting his chin on your shoulder.

“ready for the adventures of the day, my love?” he whispered, his voice filled with anticipation.

you leaned back into his embrace, a content smile gracing your lips. “always, as long as youre by my side.”

한 yujin.

pages were turning, notes were being jotted down, and equations were being solved as you were studying for your upcoming exam. little did you know, your doting boyfriend had something entirely different in mind.

with a twinkle in his eyes, yujin strolled over to your table, his tall figure casting a gentle shadow on your books. “hey there, brilliant mind,” he whispered, his voice a warm caress against your ear.

startled, you looked up, a surprised smile dancing across your lips. “yujin, you scared me…”

he snickered, his fingertips tracing invisible patterns on your back as he leaned down to peck your cheek. “sorry about that, but i just couldnt resist interrupting your study marathon.”

you playfully rolled your eyes. “oh really? and whats the occasion?”

he smirked, his hand moving to ruffle your hair affectionately. “no occasion, just missing my favorite person.”

returning to your notes, you raised an eyebrow. “mhm, and how exactly do i know youre not just craving snacks?”

yujin leaned against the table, his elbow barely grazing yours. “well, i might be a bit peckish too, but mostly i wanted to spend some time with you. just the two of us and these captivating textbooks,” he winked, his voice dripping with playful sincerity.

you couldnt help but chuckle, your annoyance at the interruption melting away. “youre something else, yujin.”

he grinned, his fingers now drawing soft circles on the back of your hand. “thats why you love me, right?”

you sighed dramatically. “i suppose so. but only because youre cute.”

yujins laughter filled the air, warm and melodic. “ah, youve discovered my secret weapon.”

with a mock sigh, you finally surrendered, closing your book and turning your attention to him. “fine, you win. what do you want to do?”

his face lit up, clearly thrilled that he had your full attention. “how about a study break? we can explore that garden outside. i heard theyve got roses that rival your beauty.”

you playfully nudged his shoulder. “smooth talker, arent you?”

he winked, his fingers now tracing your palm. “only for you.”

as you both stood up, yujin took your hand in his, his grip gentle and warm. the two of you walked towards the french doors leading to the garden, your steps light and laughter echoing in the air.

the garden was a riot of color, with vibrant flowers swaying in the breeze. your boyfriends arm found its way around your waist as he pointed out various blooms, narrating stories about each one. you couldnt help but be charmed by his enthusiasm.

as you both found a cozy bench beneath a blossoming cherry tree, yujin pulled you close, his head resting on your shoulder. “you know, i think i could get used to studying like this."

you smiled, leaning into him. “well, its definitely more enjoyable with you around.”

he pressed a soft kiss to your temple, his fingers idly drawing circles on your thigh. “ill always be here to distract you, you know that, right?”

you tilted your head to look at him, your heart swelling with affection. “yeah, i do. and i wouldnt have it any other way.”

© gvnvks 2023. do not copy or translate any of my works.

[talkingsaxy]

PHOTOS YOU'VE TAKEN OF YOUR BOYFRIEND RICKY

please don't repost, requests open!

[haesunflower]

moments that makes everyone think you're dating (zb1).....₊˚⊹♡

genre: fluff/comedy

pairing: reader (mostly gn) x zerobaseone

about/tags: you're not dating, but everyone seems to think you are? hmm i wonder why?

just cute things hehe...

⠀⠀♡ kim jiwoong ♡ ⠀⠀

for some reason, you are always invited to movie night at the dorms

the boys initially teased jiwoong, but you cleared the air and told everyone that you were just childhood friends and you've never dated

the boys reluctantly accept the story

but your legs are always intertwined at the couch, and your head is always finding comfort on his chest, and his arms are always draped around your figure

members are dumbfounded, confused, then disgusted. friends??? always holding each other like that??? in front of us????

taerae who was getting popcorn, throws a singular piece to the both of you after he sees jiwoong nuzzling his nose into your hair

"the both of you...get a room please we're trying to enjoy the movie"

"you're just jealous taerae" you snipe back, throwing back the popcorn piece

jiwoong giggles and says "taerae-ya if you wanted to be cuddled you could have just said so"

everyone in the room is laughing except for taerae

⠀⠀ ♡ zhang hao ♡ ⠀⠀

you're his lockscreen in one of his many phones

when members would ask who that is – gyuvin, ricky, and yujin (the ones that have known hao the longest) would snicker and giggle, egging the question on and insinuating that you're hao's significant other

"oh, that's y/n. my best friend from when I was in school"

"best friend huuuhhh" gyuvin teases, raising his eyebrows up and down

hao throws a pillow at gyuvin to get him to shut up

one time, ricky caught hao going through your old pictures together and compiling it for a sweet birthday message he was gonna send to you

best believe that ricky immediately informed gyuvin and yujin about what he was doing and he got teased relentlessly that day

the 3 other yuehuaz end up gossiping to the rest of the members that they have in fact, met you in person and that you are in fact, insanely gorgeous that hao is out of your league and that in fact, gyuvin said he found you stunning and hao in fact, gave gyuvin the silent treatment for 2 weeks.

⠀⠀ ♡ sung hanbin ♡ ⠀⠀

hanbin asks for your help often to meal prep and cook at the dorms with him – it's mostly stuff that can be frozen and reheated for the week so that the boys have healthy homecooked meals to enjoy

it's grossly domestic, you'd think the both of you were in a long term relationship

sometimes, the members catch you feeding each other

hanbin would blow gently on the spoon before catching your attention by tilting your chin upwards, "how does this taste?"

he brings the spoon to your mouth and he beams when you smile and give him a thumbs up

in the summer, the kitchen gets too hot so you find yourself dabbing at hanbin's forehead sweat while he stirs the sauce

he shoots you a grateful smile, cheek dimples on display

"god, are you two married or what?" jiwoong grumbles as he passes by

you two just chuckle

⠀⠀ ♡ seok matthew ♡ ⠀⠀

you're his gym buddy and actually no one knows that you exist up until a few members started asking matthew if they could join him at the gym

you always greet matt so cheerfully, giving him a hello hug (you're both foreigners)

every time you finish a set you guys high five one another, and if you lack motivation he'll say something like: "one more set and i'll give you a reward"

"oh yeah like what, matt?"

"guess you'll have to finish up and see" 😉

harmless flirting is an effective motivational tool for the both of you

the rewards range from: a pre-workout smoothie treat or a signed photocard of himself haha

gunwook and jiwoong once caught matt staring at your ass :D not his fault your ass so fat :D

so it comes as a shock to gunwook when he hears you answering a phone call from your boyfriend, right after the three of you finished a circuit

when you leave, gunwook turns to matthew and says "she has a boyfriend? i thought you were the boyfriend!"

matthew has a shit-eating grin plastered on his face and says "nah we're just friends" and takes a sip of his water

⠀⠀ ♡ kim taerae ♡ ⠀⠀

he's like your driver, and you're the ultimate passenger princess/prince

taerae rushes out of practice the moment it's over "sorry guys gotta go, y/n is waiting for me to pick them up from school"

matthew calls taerae out for being a simp, while hanbin scolds matthew to leave the loverboy alone :(

taerae has no time to correct hanbin and just rushes out of there

he doesn't like making you wait after all!!

whenever it starts to rain too, he would leave the dorms telling members he's running an errand, when everyone knows he's just going to where you are so you don't have to commute in the rain

one time, taerae and hao were out to run an ACTUAL errand when you called him in a panic to ask if he was in the area – you were drenched in the rain and your phone was about to die

taerae of course, said he would come get you :) he also made hao move to the backseat so you could be right next to him :)

⠀⠀♡ ricky ♡ ⠀⠀

he's always on his damn phone, grinning from ear to ear or giggling to himself

when members ask him what's so funny, his face goes back to neutral and says "nothing"

the members don't know who he's texting and facetiming

while you were talking on facetime, ricky left his phone on the kitchen counter so he could make himself some food, and gyuvin took this as an opportunity to snatch his phone to figure out who you were

gyuvin was so quick, ricky didn't even realize it happened

gyuvin brought the phone to gunwook's room where they eagerly said hi and introduced themselves, then continued to ask you a bunch of questions like "how did you meet?" "how long have you been dating?" "what do you like best about ricky?"

i mean, you could answer all the questions but you had no time to – as ricky busted the door open and snatched the phone back

"sorry about that y/n, my members obviously don't have any common courtesy"

"haha it's fine ricky, they're very cute"

"cute??? cute you find them cute???" ricky sounds offended as he walks away from the two other members, shooting them a look and faking a punch

⠀⠀♡ kim gyuvin ♡ ⠀⠀

any free time he gets, he visits home so he can spend time with eumppappa

both you and gyuvin were the dog sitters and dog walkers for your building before he debuted

but he's getting a little busier nowadays, and his visits to his family home have been less frequent

you decide you'd walk eumppappa and your dog aiki to gyuvin's dorm for a quick visit, which has then become weekly tradition

the members just assume you're his significant other with how often you visit with his dog

that, and the fact that gyuvin refers to you as "eumppappa's eomma" and you refer to gyuvin as "aiki's appa"

the members don't know it's because you bought the dogs together

whatever tho, everyone thinks it's so cute

⠀⠀♡ park gunwook ♡ ⠀⠀

he's inserting you in the conversation any chance he gets

like when the boys are just playing overwatch or league of legends gunwook goes "ahhh i should invite y/n to play"

or when gunwook is trying food from a new restaurant he would excitedly take a picture and say "y/n would like this i should send some to her"

or when he's out shopping he would say "this would look so great on y/n"

or when he's helping yujin with school and he surprisingly doesn't know the answer, he says "y/n would know this, hold on let me ask"

again, every chance he gets. your name is mentioned. he's like an excited little puppy when your name gets mentioned by other people too

example, "gunwook i got ice cream - maybe you can share with y/n" and then he's bolting to his phone asking you to come over

the older members thinks it's adorable, how much he likes you

and when you actually meet the members clad in gunwook's sweater they all come to the conclusion you feel the same way for him

A/N: i missed writing and being delulu

૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა

✎ mobile masterlist ✉︎ request -> & join my taglist so you don't miss out!

tagging: @dwcljh @aleiamk @honghongbri @rjclouds @snowflakemoon3 @kpoprhia @en-ct @weeiyin @aleinasstuff @jiaant11 @caocoamamam @mashihope @wonluvrbot @littlegirltacos @ihrtgw @seok02 @ollieluvrs @thejadeazalea @keiwook @yjhcloud @deafeningtyrantmilkshake @gyuvinnie @hihnya @doobinnies @forrds

[i520u]

star-crossed 彡

highschool!ricky x fem!reader 、masterlist

。synopsis ➷ in which you are paired up with ricky shen, who fully convinced himself that you purposely became his partner in order to date him.

。genre ➷ social media au, highschool au, ricky x fem!reader, fluff, crack, angst, flirty x shy au, right person wrong timing, sfw, may contain writing form!

。warning ➷ contain curse words, dark humour, mental illness jokes, kys jokes, etc

。profiles ➷ y/n’s friends / ricky's friends

taglist request is closed .𖥔 ݁ ˖

˗ˏˋ ★ˎˊ˗ table of content ; —

one. the 1

two. i

three. persist

four. and

five. resist

six. the

seven. temptation

eight. to

nine. ask

ten. you

eleven. if

twelve. one

thirteen. thing

fourteen. had

fifteen. been

sixteen. different

seventeen. would

eighteen. everything

nineteen. be

twenty. different

twenty-one. today

twenty-two. epilogue

book-2. 11:11

[k-etak]

‌ ‌ ‌ ﹙🍷﹚ 𝒓.

[seokmattchuus]

You wouldn't normally go for younger guys. But when a junior from your department offers to drive you home after a staff get-together, you didn't think things would get heated.

And the last thing you expected was to end up at his house.

[hariboz]

PROMISE ME…!

“when you don’t tell your boyfriend you’re sick and still perform!”

pairing: idol!bf!ricky x gn!idol!reader

genre: fluff, tiny angst (?)

warning: mention of headaches, blurry vision, nausea and similar symptoms, softie bf!ricky, that’s it i think?

notes: ty to nonnie for requesting this!! i got a little carried away but i got into a pretty good flow writing it so i hope you enjoy 🥹🫶🏻 also!! this is my first time writing idol!reader so i hope it feels somewhat realistic…? as realistic as it can be i guess 😵‍💫

word count: 1.8k (😵‍💫 how and why…)

five, six, seven, eight.

five, six, seven, eight.

five, six, seven—

“y/n, are you okay?” the voice of your leader rips you out of your trance, your tired eyes meeting in the mirror. you nod and put on a bright, although fake smile in hopes of being reassuring, though you’re not sure you were being all too convincing — either way, none of your members pry, because they understand. they understand the need to push through, especially now with all these end of the year award shows happening; you simply can’t afford to be sick, to fall behind and to be absent from such huge events. so, you decide to push through the dizziness, nausea and pain. you’ll take some medication later, it’ll be fine. (at least that’s what you’re telling yourself when you catch yourself stumbling from the dizziness when you get ready to practice your solo entrance.) even though there is a silent understanding between you and your members, there still is one person you know you won’t be able to convince, no matter how hard you’ll try — your boyfriend and professional overthinker in regards to your well-being, ricky.

it’s quite cute, the juxtaposition of his public image and the way he tends to worry. did you eat? does your throat hurt from vocal practice? did you trip during dance practice again? (a question that’s especially annoying considering you told him about tripping once, roughly six months ago. he refuses to let it go.) he sends you teas and throat sprays to make sure your voice is taken care of, secretly checks the soles of your shoes to make sure they aren’t getting slippery, somehow manages to pack you little snacks you can munch on when you haven’t eaten anything before practice again. he’s very rarely stern, much too soft-spoken and gentle towards you to speak to you in a more serious manner when he’s worried, so he shows his care and love through these things — which makes you feel all the more guilty when you straight up have to lie to him when he asks if practice is going fine, if you’re feeling well, and letting you know how excited he (along with gyuvin, he mentions) is to see you perform in person up close.

you try your hardest to get better before the performance, you really do. well, as much as you can between hours and hours of practice and barely any sleep, at least. all your efforts seem to be in vain, though, because the day of the performance seems to be the worst day yet — if you had a choice, you would bury yourself under every blanket available and not leave your bed for at least a week, that’s how awful you feel when you and your members are picked up from your dorm during the wee hours of the morning.

unfortunately, the little perfectionistic gremlin that lives at the back of your mind refuses to let all these weeks of practice go to waste, so you muster up a brave smile through your shaking pupils and tell your worrying members that you have everything under control — you’ll smash this performance just like all the other ones, even if you have to do it while being a little dizzy. it’s no big deal, you’re a professional after all.

your stylists is making some last minute adjustments to your outfits when a gentle knock sounds through the room, a very familiar blonde head of hair popping in. you rush over to ricky, his arms snaking around you immediately. “hey, handsome,” you mutter as you observe his face, a small grin playing on his lips. “you’re not looking to bad yourself, hm?” his voice is smooth as he brushes some of your hair out of your face, careful to not interfere with your hairstylist’s hard work. you’re thrown off your balance a little when another dizziness spell hits you out of nowhere, the look on ricky’s face immediately morphing into one of concern, “are you okay?”

you muster up a smile and just nod, eyes blinking rapidly to dispel the black dots bouncing around in your vision, “yeah, i’m just a little nervous,” you reach up to adjust his collar to avoid meeting his worried eyes, “i’m fine. just freaking out a little, that’s all.” you can tell ricky doesn’t entirely believe you, but he trusts that you would come to him if there was something wrong — so he reluctantly lets the subject go. he steals a quick kiss to your lips, whispering a “good luck, i love you.” before he turns to leave to make any last preparations for his own performance.

your first wave of regret overcomes you when you stand ready beneath the stage, you and your members getting into position to perform the intro to your performance. your head feels like it’s about to split and your hands are shaky, but it’s too late to turn back now — as queen sunmi once said, the show must go on.

your second wave of regret comes when you’re actually on stage, all the lights, the music, the screams and your in-ear monitor feeling less like the dream you’ve worked so hard to achieve and more like your own personal hell. your group having your own amazing entrance with one of the stage elevators excited you at first; unfortunately, right now you’re preoccupied with managing your expressions to make sure you won’t let any irritation or discomfort slip.

your third and final wave of regret comes when you stand in the middle of the stage in this massive venue, tens of thousands of eyes on you as you start to perform your solo part of the song — your head is pounding and you can barely hear your own voice through your in-ears anymore, your steps are shaky and imprecise, your vision is blurry. you manage to push through, somehow, but it’s clear in the way your chest is heaving once the lights go out that you’re not well.

the atmosphere is very much tense in the part of the audience where your fellow idols sit, all of them having to cover their very obvious concern with faux excitement — you pulled it off well enough, but it’s clear to every single one of them that you’re sick and that you probably should not have performed. ricky especially has to keep his expressions in check, because the mix of worry and concern but also frustration and maybe a little anger is raging heavily inside him right now.

the worry and concern are obvious, the last thing he wants to see is you being sick, much less performing in that state. the frustration is bubbling inside him because he knows that you know better, that even the chance of you hurting yourself even worse by performing while sick is enough reason to sit out one performance. the anger is entirely directed at your staff and maybe some of your members, your leader at least — they must’ve seen that you were unwell, no? and they still let you on stage? is that not what managers and leaders are for, to take matters into their own hands and to know what’s best for their members? it all comes to a head when your members join the other idols in the audience while you’re nowhere in sight.

ricky is getting restless, his hands sprawling against his dress pants, occasionally pinching the fabric to keep his mind occupied. gyuvin and matthew both gave him little reassuring pats on his back but neither did much to comfort him, his mind entirely preoccupied with worrying about you and counting down the minutes to when he will finally be able to check up on you backstage.

it’s about an hour later when the award show is finally over, and for once ricky is the first one to rush backstage, a little ahead of all of his members. he swerves past staff and security and doesn’t even bother knocking on your group’s dressing room, ripping the door open to find your shocked but still very exhausted eyes staring up at him in surprise, “ricky?”

he’s in front of you in the blink of an eye, squatting down to meet you eye-to-eye, his hands gently cradling your face, “are you okay? for real, this time?” his brows are furrowed and you feel a little bad for thinking that he looks pretty handsome all serious like this. you nod sheepishly, apology ready to spill from your lips when he squishes your cheeks together to silence you, “shhh, you listen to me. never do that again, okay? do you know how scary that was, watching you perform like that? what if something had happened, you know you could’ve—,” he stumbles over his words a little, clearly worked up, “i don’t know, fallen off stage or something. you could’ve fainted! or you could’ve broken something or— i don’t know, just, promise me, don’t do that again.” ricky’s once so stern voice turns soft towards the end again, never really able to keep up his serious tone for long, especially towards you.

“‘m sorry, just didn’t want to let anyone down,” you mumble, leaning into his touch. his cold hands on your face feel incredibly nice, a stark contrast to your feverish face. he sighs and one of his hands comes up to brush your hair away from your face, his hand stroking your head softly, “i know, but still. don’t do stuff like that, okay? talk to someone when you’re not feeling well. your managers, your members, me — there’s so many people you can go to, okay? anyone, as long as you tell someone,” you nod along to him, and maybe it’s the guilt of making him worry so much or the fact that you’re overwhelmed from the amount of affection coming from him while you’re still a little delirious, but you feel like you need to lighten the atmosphere with a little joke.

“even gyuvin?” the gentle expression on his face falls almost immediately, replaced by a very unimpressed stare. you break out into quiet giggles, muttering a “sorry” before pressing a kiss to his cheek. ricky grumbles a little before getting back up, running his hand through your hair gently one last time. “i have to go back now but i’m ordering you some soup to your dorm later. you’re on bedrest for the next few days, you hear me?” he tries to sound stern again and puts on his best serious face, but his façade is broken when you smile up at him so tiredly, the exhaustion clear on your face.

“thank you, i love you,” you call after him when he turns to leave, ricky sending you a flying kiss before leaving the room, “love you too.”

(your fourth wave of regret came when you realised ricky formed an alliance with your members, all of them exchanging “y/n intel” to make sure all of them can keep an eye on you while you’re recovering.)

[cyberkunizz]

Im goinv clinically insane Shen Quanrui wtf??? Im actually biting rocks and gnawing at the walls rn he’s unreal

[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.

[thebvbbletea]

ZB1 - 'Feel The Pop' M/V

[gvnvks]

zb1 boys being clingy

> pairings: non-idol!zb1 x fem!reader

> warnings: lowercase intended, not proofread

> song recommendation: one missed call by jann

> note: idk yall this kinda sucks ass, especially the hanbin and taerae ones cuz i ran out of ideas 😭 requests r open

김 jiwoong.

jiwoong had been working on his latest movie project for weeks now, and he was starting to feel the toll it was taking on his body and mind. the only thing keeping him going was the thought of seeing you - his girlfriend. as soon as he spotted you, he ran towards you and engulfed you in a tight embrace, inhaling your sweet scent. you laughed at your boyfriends sudden clinginess, but reciprocated the hug nonetheless. “I missed you.” jiwoong whispered into your ear, you rubbing his back soothingly. “I missed you too.” you whispered back. jiwoong didn't want to let go of you just yet, so he wrapped his arm around your waist as the both of you walked towards his trailer. he leaned his head on your shoulder, enjoying your warmth and the feeling of being close to you. “you’re my favorite person, (y/n).” your boyfriend murmured, causing you to smile. “i better be! i’m the only one you’ve got.” you teased, poking his side playfully. jiwoong chuckled, but his grip on you tightened. he nuzzled his face into your neck, feeling content and at ease in your presence. jiwoong didn't want this moment to end, but he knew he had to go back to filming soon. “I wish you could stay here with me forever.”

rest members under the cut!

장 hao.

hao had been practicing playing the violin for hours, trying to perfect a new piece. his fingers were sore and his mind was exhausted, but all he could think about was you. he decided to take a break and texted you to come over. as soon as you arrived, hao wrapped his arms around your waist and rested his head on your shoulder. “hey,” he mumbled, his voice tired but affectionate. "i missed you so much today." you smiled, running your fingers through his hair. "i missed you too, hao. how’s the practicing going?" hao groaned and pulled away slightly, leaning against the wall for support. "it's so frustrating. i can't seem to get this piece right." you placed a gentle kiss on his forehead. “don’t stress to much, hao. you’re amazing.” hao nodded, grateful for your words of comfort. he leaned in again, wrapping his arms tightly around your waist and burying his face in your neck. "i just want to be close to you, is that okay?" hao hesitated for a while. you laughed softly, running your hands up and down his back. “what do you mean? why wouldn’t it be? i love you.” hao smiled, his eyes closed in contentment. “i love you too.” you stood there in comfortable silence, enjoying each other's company and the feeling of being close.

성 hanbin

hanbin was sitting on the bed, you busy with your books and notes spread out in front of you. he had planned to play some video games but found himself more interested in snuggling up to you. he leaned over, resting his chin on your shoulder, watching you study. “you look so cute when you're studying,” he said, pressing a quick kiss to your cheek. you smiled, continuing to write down some notes, trying not to be distracted by his affectionate gestures. “hanbin, i need to finish studying.” you reminded him gently, hoping he would let go and let you concentrate. “just a few more minutes,” he pleaded, not wanting to let go of you just yet. “you're so warm and cozy.” as you continued to work, hanbin played with your hair, occasionally pressing a kiss to your temple or neck. despite his clinginess, you couldn't help but find it endearing and a welcome distraction from your schoolwork. after what felt like hours, you finally finished studying and let out a sigh of relief. hanbin beamed at you, pulling you into a tight hug. "see, i knew you could do it," he said, nuzzling his face into your hair.

석 matthew.

the dance studio was quiet except for the soft humming of the music in the background. the sun was shining through the window, casting a warm glow over the room. matthew had always been a dedicated dancer, and he was constantly striving to improve his skills. but on this particular day, the heat in the dance studio was almost unbearable, and he found himself struggling to keep up with the rigorous routine. as he took a break, you approached him with a concerned look on you face. “hey, you okay?” you asked, noticing the beads of sweat that were forming on his forehead. your boyfriend nodded, feeling a sense of relief as you gently wiped the sweat away with your fingers. “thanks,” he said, his voice hoarse from the exertion. as you continued to wipe the sweat from his forehead, matthew couldn't help but feel a sense of comfort as he clung tightly to your side, holding your other hand in his. he knew that he was pushing himself to his limits, but he also knew that he had you by his side, supporting him every step of the way. “this is tough, but you’re tougher. i’m so proud of you.” you said, your voice filled with admiration. matthew smiled, feeling a surge of energy as he looked into your eyes. “i love you.” he said, his voice filled with emotion, as he took your hands and nuzzled his face in them, trying to smell your scent.

김 taerae.

taerae had been feeling down lately, and he couldn't quite put his finger on why. he tried to push through it, but it seemed like everything was getting on top of him. he just wanted to feel better, but he didn't know how. one day, while he was spending time with you, he couldn't help but feel a wave of sadness wash over him. taerae hugged you tightly, feeling your warmth and softness of your body against his, his head laying on your chest, his heartbeat syncing with yours. “what’s wrong, rae?” you whispered softly, rubbing his back. taerae shook his head. “i don't know. i just feel like everything's getting on top of me, you know? like I'm failing at everything.” you pulled back slightly to look into his eyes. “you aren’t failing at anything, you’re doing exactly what you should be doing. every day may not be a good day, but there is something good in every day. remember that you have my full support, taerae, no matter what you do. you're amazing. you just need to take some time for yourself and do things that make you happy." taerae nodded, feeling a little better already. his lips found their way to your temple, kissing you gently. then again, he put his head on your chest, feeling your heart. he knew that no matter what, you were there for him. always. you feel asleep holding taerae in your arms, feeling more complete than ever.

리키 ricky.

you and ricky were walking around the shopping mall, browsing through different stores. as you passed by a clothing store, you stopped to look at a dress in the window display. ricky, who was walking a few steps behind you, noticed your interest and quickly caught up to you. “that's a nice dress,” he commented, looking at the dress in the window. “wanna try it on?” he asked, now looking at your face. “of course!” you replied enthusiastically, already leading the way into the store. as you entered, ricky wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you closer to him. you smiled, feeling comforted by his touch. as you browsed through the racks of clothing, you picked out a few items to try on. ricky followed her into the changing room, waiting outside your stall. as she tried on the clothes, you couldn't help but notice how ricky was being extra clingy today. he would occasionally lean over to give you a kiss on the cheek or brush his hand against yours. “is everything okay?” you asked, noticing how he seemed to be holding onto you tightly. ricky hesitated for a moment before speaking up, “i just want to be close to you today. is that okay?” “of course,” you replied, smiling at him. “i'm always here for you, ricky.” ricky pulled you in for a tight embrace, feeling grateful for your understanding. "thank you." he whispered, holding you close.

김 gyuvin.

gyuvin was sitting on the couch, completely engrossed in his video game. you were sitting next to him, scrolling through your phone, trying not to disturb his focus. as he played, he found himself becoming more and more frustrated, unable to get past a difficult level. without thinking, he leaned over and rested his head on your shoulder, letting out a sigh of frustration. you looked up, surprised by the sudden contact, but smiled and wrapped his arm around him. gyuvin leaned into you, feeling comforted by your warmth and presence. he continued to play the game, occasionally letting out a grunt or a curse when he failed to make a move. but each time, you would rub his back or run your fingers through his hair, reminding him that he wasn't alone. as the game went on, gyuvin found himself less and less interested in winning and more interested in simply being close to you. he let the controller fall to the floor and turned to face you, burying his face in your neck. “i love you.” he murmured unexpectedly, his voice muffled by your hair.

박 gunwook.

you and gunwook were lounging on the couch, casually chatting and enjoying each other's company. gunwook couldn't help but admire your beauty, from your sparkling eyes to your lips. without a second thought, he reached out and began tracing the contours of your face with his fingertips, marveling at the softness of your skin. as he continued to trace your features, he suddenly felt overcome with emotions and found himself clinging tightly to you, burying his face in your neck. you could feel the intensity of his embrace and wrapped your arms around him in return, trying to comfort him. “i'm sorry, (y/n),” gunwook mumbled into your shoulder. “i just love you so much and I don't know what i'd do without you.” you smiled softly and ran your fingers through his hair. “i love you too, gunwook. you don't have to apologize for feeling emotional, it's okay.” gunwook took a deep breath and pulled back slightly, gazing into your eyes. “i know, i just... i want you to know how much you mean to me. you're everything to me.” you leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to his soft, plush lips. "i know, gunwook. and i feel the same way about you."

한 yujin.

you and yujin were sitting at the desk in his bedroom, working on your homework assignments. you had been studying for hours and were both feeling exhausted. as you were writing something down, yujin leaned his head on your shoulder, letting out a tired sigh. you looked at him with concern. “are you okay, yujin?” yujin looked up at you with a small smile. “i'm fine, just tired.” you placed your hand on his back and rubbed it gently. “do you want to take a break?” yujin shook his head. “no, we need to finish this first.” you nodded in understanding but noticed yujin was getting more and more restless as the minutes passed. suddenly, he wrapped his arms around you, burying his face in your neck. “yujin, what are you doing?” you asked with a surprised look on your face. “i just need to be close to you,” yujin mumbled, his grip tightening. you could feel his body shaking slightly, and you knew something was wrong. “what's going on? talk to me, yujin.” “i don't know,” yujin admitted. “i just feel so overwhelmed and stressed out. And being close to you makes me feel better.” you held him close, rubbing his back as he clung to you. “it's okay, yujin. I'm here for you. we'll get through this together.”

gvnvks © 2023