welcome to rie’s fanfiction space! just wanna say hi and a big thank you to everyone who reads and loves my work. hope you enjoy your time here, have fun too !
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➋ if you wanna talk or be friends, i’m totally open! my ask box is always open, so don’t hesitate to send me anything.
➌ most of my work is about husband! or dad! dynamics.
➍ i know i put ‘write for anton,’ but i’m open to writing for every member of riize, so it’s totally fine if you request someone else.
➎ since i’m not a native english speaker, it would be great if you could send your request with as many details as possible.
➏ i don’t usually write smut, but sometimes, if i’m in the mood, i might… though it’s not my norm.
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🪿’s note — heyy! this isn’t part of the main story that’ll go into my masterlist, just a small blurb (i guess?). hope you enjoy it! i actually came up with this because of a title ‘one waited, the other moved on.’ it was supposed to be a series for my wonbin fanfic, but i ended up dropping it due to a lack of ideas and plot twists. as for the ending, i’ll leave that up to your imagination :) enjoy!
ulsan,
it started in ulsan, where the ocean breeze carried laughter through the streets, where you and wonbin grew up side by side. he was your best friend, your partner in crime, the boy who made the world feel a little… brighter just by being in it. and somewhere between shared lunches, late-night bike rides, and stolen glances,
you fell for him.
but on the day of your high school graduation, as the sun set over the city you both called home, you told him.
“i like you, wonbin.”
he smiled, but it wasn’t the kind that made your heart race it was the kind that made it ache.
“i want to chase this dream,” he said.
“i want to give it everything i have. but give me six years, y/n. i’ll come back to you. i promise.”
so you waited.
two years. four. six. and then eight.
life moved on, the seasons changed, and eventually, you stopped counting. you told yourself it was foolish, that you should have let go, that he was never really yours to begin with.
and then.
“it’s been a while… y/n.”
you turn, and there he is. standing in front of you, just a little older, a little different, but still the same wonbin, park wonbin. the same eyes, the same smile, the same voice that once whispered promises into the night.
“… eight years.”
the words leave your lips before you can stop them.
he lets out a small breath, almost a laugh, but there’s something heavy behind it.
“i’m late, aren’t i?”
there’s so much you could say. so much you want to say. about how you waited, about how you tried to move on, about how the past still lingers in the quiet corners of your heart.
For sohee it could be about sohee perceived as a loser and insecurity boy being in love for a girl? 🥺💗
hey anon! your request is done, and i hope you like it! since my blog mostly focuses on husband! or dad! riize dynamics, i don’t actually write them dating or anything like that, just a little throwback of them instead!
summary — years into your marriage, you and husband, sohee curl up on the couch one cozy night, reminiscing about your high school days. back then, he was the shy, insecure boy who thought he was a ‘loser’, quiet, awkward, and secretly in love with you, the girl he believed was out of his league. as you laugh and share memories, he opens up about how he saw himself, and you remind him of the moments that made you fall for the sweet, unassuming boy who’s now your forever.
warnings — fluff with a touch of bittersweet nostalgia, mentions of teenage insecurity (light and reflective), and so much tenderness it might make you melt.
📌 any feedback are appreciated, i’d love to know what you think of my first mini-series, request open or send ask → 💌🦕🩵 !
🏷️ taglist ; @strawbrryvyy @chanryou
it’s one of those quiet nights, rare now with his riize schedule where it’s just the two of you, no rush, no noise. a half-empty mug of tea sits on the coffee table, steam curling up in the air.
“remember high school?” you say, nudging him with your elbow, a playful grin tugging at your lips.
“you were so quiet back then. i thought you hated me for a while.”
sohee laughs, that soft, breathy sound you’ve loved since forever, and shakes his head.
“hated you? nah. i was just… terrified of you.”
you tilt your head, resting it against his shoulder.
“terrified? of me? i was the one who kept tripping over my own feet in gym class.”
“yeah, but you were still you,” he says, voice low, like he’s pulling the memory out of some hidden corner.
“confident, funny, always surrounded by people. i was the weird kid who’d hide in the music room, thinking i was a total loser. no way someone like you’d even notice me.”
you shift to look at him, his face soft in the dim light, eyes distant as he remembers.
“you weren’t a loser, sohee. you were just… quiet. i liked that about you.”
he quirks an eyebrow, skeptical.
“really? because i spent half my time back then convincing myself you’d laugh if i ever talked to you. i’d see you in the halls, smiling like it was nothing, and i’d just… freeze.”
“oh, i noticed you,” you say, poking his chest.
“how could i not? you’d always have those headphones on, scribbling in that notebook like you were writing the next big hit. i thought it was cute.”
he flushes, even now, years later, and ducks his head.
“cute, huh? i felt like a mess. i liked you so much it made me stupid. remember that time i dropped my lunch tray because you said hi to me?”
you burst out laughing, the memory hitting you like a wave.
“yes! you turned so red i thought you were gonna pass out. i felt bad after thought i’d scared you off for good.”
“nah,” he murmurs, a small smile creeping up.
“just made me like you more. you were nice about it, didn’t make me feel dumb. that’s when i started thinking maybe i wasn’t invisible to you.”
you reach for his hand, lacing your fingers through his.
“you were never invisible to me. i liked how you’d get all shy, but then you’d light up when you talked about music. i’d hear you humming under your breath in class and think, ‘this guy’s got something special.’”
he looks at you, eyes softening.
“i didn’t know that. i thought i was just… background noise. the kid who didn’t fit in, who’d never be cool enough for someone like you.”
“sohee-ah,” you say, squeezing his hand,
“you were cool enough for me. you still are. i fell for the boy who’d blush every time i looked at him, who’d leave little doodles on my notes when he thought i wasn’t paying attention. you didn’t have to be loud or flashy, i liked you just the way you were.”
he’s quiet for a moment, thumb brushing over your knuckles.
“took me forever to believe that. even after we started dating, i kept waiting for you to realize you could do better.”
“better?” you scoff, leaning closer until your foreheads almost touch.
“you’re the guy who wrote me a song for our first anniversary, who still holds my hand like it’s the first time. there’s no better, sohee. there’s just you.”
he smiles, real and unguarded, and pulls you into his chest, the blanket slipping a little as you settle against him.
“guess i got lucky, then. high school me would’ve freaked out knowing we’d end up here.”
“high school me would’ve too,” you say, voice muffled against his shirt.
“but i’m glad we did.”
he hums, a contented sound, and you feel his heartbeat steady under your cheek.
pairing — athlete!lee chanyoung x fem!reader
warnings — aged up, lowercase, just fluff and cute lee chanyoung
part of — my gold metal husband .
today, your phone’s been going off nonstop since early morning, but you’re too lazy to bother checking. it’s not until your brother-in-law, junyoung, texts you that you finally take a look.
lee junyoung:
‘sis, i just saw something online about hyung, do you know yet?’
you blink and tap the link he sent. right away, a barrage of sensational headlines slams into you.
stuff like.
‘lee chanyoung: nation’s husband caught in affair scandal?’
‘gold medal swimmer spotted with a mystery woman, where’s y/n?’
‘even the ideal man can’t resist temptation?’
you burst out laughing.
you don’t rush to read the articles but instead, you scroll down to the comments. some people are shocked, some don’t buy it, and others are already jumping to judge, even though there’s no real evidence beyond a few blurry, long-distance photos where you can’t even make out faces.
but you spot her right away.
the woman in the pics? none other than ma soojin, chanyoung’s best friend from elementary school all the way through college.
after you two got married, she moved to australia with her family and only got back to korea a few weeks ago. just yesterday, chanyoung was buzzing with excitement, telling you how soojin asked him to grab a lunch to catch up after years apart.
and yet, somehow, the media’s spun this into an affair. your poor husband’s been totally framed. social media’s wildfire speed is no joke.
you keep scrolling through more comments.
‘no way lee chanyoung would do that!’
‘don’t judge without any solid proof, remember that other teammate’s mess last time?’
‘if it’s real, i’d be so let down… if even chanyoung’s like this, i’m done believe in love.’
you rest your chin on your hand, still giggling. if these people knew you’re reading ‘my husband’s cheating’ news and laughing this hard, they’d probably be stunned and think you’re unhinged.
chanyoung’s at the training center now, probably oblivious. you mull it over, thinking about texting him, but then decide against it. you know your husband, once he catches wind of this, he’ll shut it down fast and clean. all you have to do is sit back and wait.
and sure enough.
three hours later, when the rumors are peaking and blowing up every forum, chanyoung takes charge himself. he posts on his personal account, no fluff, no nonsense, straight to the point.
‘hey everyone,
about the rumors from yesterday, the woman in the photos is my best friend, soojin. she’s married and living happily with her little family. we’re just old friends catching up after she’s been abroad for years. please don’t spread false info that could hurt other people around me. thanks!’
with those few short lines, chanyoung snuffs out every last rumor.
the comments under his post start flooding in even more.
‘could he be any quicker???’
‘nation’s husband shuts down rumors faster than i turn in homework!’
‘say what you want, but seeing how happy his wife is, i’m convinced chanyoung’s faithful.’
‘seriously, this debunking speed is next-level.’
you read through them, unable to stop laughing, the more you read, the funnier it gets. you open your chat and fire off a message to him.
you:
you handled that so fast, i didn’t even get to fake being mad at you.
a few seconds later, he replies instantly.
🦕’s y/n:
gonna tease me again? not happening, babe. you’re the only one for me.
you stare at the message, a grin sneaking onto your face. yep, no matter how many absurd rumors swirl out there, you trust lee chanyoung and more importantly, he always proves your trust is right.
summary — anton’s first solo mini-album has just dropped, and every note, every lyric, is a piece of your life together woven into sound. as his wife, you’ve watched him pour his heart into this project while balancing his schedules with riize, late-night studio sessions, and quiet moments with you. the album tells your story about how you met, the way he fell for you, the little quirks he adores, and the promises he’s made. one evening, he sits you down, headphones in hand, and plays it for you, his shy smile hiding the nerves as he waits for your reaction.
warnings — pure fluff, maybe a little overwhelming sweetness, mentions of real-life exhaustion (but nothing heavy), and a whole lot of love that might make your heart ache in the best way (i hope)
🪿’s note — hello!! i hope all you anton lovers out there like this fanfic. just wanted to say that my requests are currently open, so feel free to send in anything! if you wanna talk about riize, fanfics, or literally anything else or if you just need someone to chat with, my ask box is always open. don’t be shy!! xx
📌 any feedback are appreciated, i’d love to know what you think of my first mini-series, request open or send ask → 💌🦕🩵 !
“jagi, can you come here for a sec?”
anton’s voice drifts from the living room, soft but with that little edge of excitement you’ve learned to pick up on. you poke your head out from the kitchen, where you’ve been pretending to organize the counter just to keep your hands busy.
“what’s up, babe?” you call back, wiping your hands on a dish towel before stepping into the room.
he’s on the couch, legs tucked under the blanket you both love, his phone in one hand and those fancy headphones he’s so proud of in the other. his hair’s a mess probably from tugging at it all day and he’s got this shy, nervous smile that makes him look much cuter than he is.
“just… sit with me,”
he says, patting the spot next to him.
“i’ve got something to show you.”
you raise an eyebrow, tossing the towel over your shoulder as you walk over.
“is this about that secret project you’ve been hiding? because i swear, if it’s another guitar riff at 3 a.m…”
he laughs, that breathy sound that always gets you, and shakes his head.
“no, no. it’s done. my solo album. and, uh… it’s about you.”
you stop mid-step, blinking at him. “… wait, what?”
“yeah.”
he rubs the back of his neck, cheeks going pink.
“every song. it’s us. i wanted you to hear it first.”
you plop down next to him, the blanket shifting as you tuck your legs under it too. he’s been juggling so much lately with riize member rehearsals, flights, those late-night calls where he’s half-asleep but still asks about your day.
you knew he was working on something solo, but this? your heart’s already doing flips.
“okay, you’ve got my attention,” you say, leaning closer.
“show me.”
he hands you the headphones, fumbling a little as he pulls up the tracks on his phone.
“just… listen, okay? tell me what you think after.”
you nod, slipping them on, and he presses play.
the first track is.
‘first light’, all gentle acoustic strums and a melody that feels like sunrise. his voice comes in, smooth and tender, singing about the day he realized he loved you, coffee steam curling in the air, your laugh breaking through his sleepy haze. you remember that day, the lyrics paint it so clearly, and you feel your chest tighten.
then comes ‘habit’,
upbeat and playful, with a bassline that makes you want to dance. it’s about the little things of how you always steal his hoodies, the way you hum off-key in the shower, how he can’t sleep without your legs tangled in his. he’s sneaky with the details, slipping in that one time you burned toast and blamed it on him. you glance at him, and he’s watching you, biting his lip to hide a grin.
the third track named ‘anchor’, slows it down. it’s raw, just his voice and a piano, and it hits you hard. he sings about the chaos of his life with schedules, endless flights, the pressure and how you’re the steady thing keeping him grounded.
‘you’re my safe place, my always,’
he croons, and you feel tears prick your eyes because you know how much he means it. you’ve held him through those exhausted nights, his head on your shoulder, whispering that he’s okay as long as you’re there.
the last track is ‘vow’.
and it’s quiet, almost hushed, like a secret. the lyrics are simple but heavy with promise, about growing old with you, building a life, loving you through every season. it’s not flashy, but it feels like he’s handing you his heart all over again, just like he did when he proposed.
the final note fades, and you pull off the headphones, blinking fast to keep from crying. but then anton leans forward, tapping his phone screen.
“wait, one more thing,” he says, voice soft.
“there’s a credits track. it’s not really a song, just… something i had to add.”
you slip the headphones back on, curious, and a quiet recording starts. it’s just him speaking, his voice a little rough like he’s nervous again but still sweet.
‘uh, so… this album wouldn’t exist without you,’ he begins, and you can picture him in the studio, hunched over the mic.
‘to my wife, my muse, my everything, thank you for being the reason i can write, the reason i can breathe. every melody here is yours.’ there’s a pause, then his voice softens even more.
‘remember our wedding day? when we stood there, and i said, ‘i promise to hold you through every storm, to find you in every crowd, to love you louder than any song’? you said, ‘i promise to be your quiet place, your wild adventure, your forever home.’ those vows they’re in every note here.’
another pause, and then you hear it, your laugh, bright and unfiltered, recorded from some random moment he must’ve snuck onto his phone. ‘and that sound? that’s my favorite melody of all. i love you, always.’ he lets out a shaky laugh, and the recording ends.
you pull the headphones off again, and this time you’re a full-on mess, tears streaming down your face. anton’s staring at you, wide-eyed, like your reaction might make or break him.
“so…?” he asks, voice barely above a whisper.
you don’t even know where to start.
“anton, this is… it’s us. it’s everything.”
you lean forward, cupping his face in your hands, and he exhales, like he’d been holding his breath.
“that credits track? our vows? my laugh? i’m sobbing, you babo. it’s beautiful.”
“you’re beautiful,”
he says, so earnest it makes you laugh through the tears.
“i just wanted to tell our story. i mean, riize is my dream, but you’re… you’re my life.”
you kiss him then, soft and slow, tasting the salt of your own tears and the warmth of him. he pulls you into his lap, arms wrapping around you like he’s afraid to let go, and you stay like that for a while, the album still humming faintly through the headphones on the couch.
“play it again,” you murmur against his shoulder, and he smiles, reaching for his phone.
“only if you sing along this time,” he teases, and you groan, knowing he’ll never let you live down your off-key shower performances.
but you do it anyway, because it’s him, and this is your story, this messy, perfect, and all yours.
summary — you and your husband sungchan have been navigating married life alongside his whirlwind idol career with riize. when a mix-up in his schedule leads you to drop off a homemade lunch during a live practice session, fans catch a glimpse of the mysterious "mrs. jung," sparking chaos online.
warnings — none, just pure fluff and a tiny bit of embarrassment for sungchan!
📌 any feedback are appreciated, i’d love to know what you think of my first mini-series, request open or send ask → 💌🦕🩵 !
🏷️ taglist ; @strawbrryvyy
your apartment smells like soy sauce and sesame oil, a faint hint of the kimbap you’d spent the morning rolling. you glance at the clock.
11:47 a.m.
and figure you’ve got just enough time to swing by the company before sungchan’s practice break. he’d texted you last night, voice groggy from a late rehearsal, promising he’d be free around noon.
“bring me something good, please.”
he’d teased, and you’d laughed, already planning the little lunchbox in your head.
you slip on a hoodie, grab the bento bag, and head out, the spring air are cool. it’s a short walk to the building, and the security guard gives you a familiar nod as you flash your visitor pass, perks of being jung sungchan’s wife, even if you still feel a little shy about it. you’re used to sneaking in and out quietly, keeping things low-key. sungchan’s fans know he’s married, but you’ve both been careful about keeping your face off the radar.
the practice room’s just down the hall, and you can already hear the thump of music through the walls.
you pull out your phone to text him.
y/n:
here with food, you on break soon?
but before you can hit send, the door swings open, and sohee’s grinning face pops out.
“y/n! perfect timing… wait, you’re here now?”
he blinks, then waves you in. “come on, sungchan hyung’s gonna flip.”
“is he not on break?”
you hesitate, clutching the bag tighter. the music’s still going, a steady beat you vaguely recognize as one of their new tracks.
“uh, not exactly,” sohee says, scratching his neck.
“we’re live. like, right now. but it’s fine, he’s starving anyway.”
your stomach drops.
“live? as in… camera?”
“yep! don’t worry, you’ll be quick.”
he’s already tugging you inside before you can protest, and the room hits you all at once, bright lights, a couple of staff adjusting equipment, and the boys mid-choreography.
sungchan’s in the center, sweat glistening on his forehead, his tank top clinging to his broad frame as he hits a sharp turn. he spots you mid-move, and you swear you see his foot catch for a split second. his eyes widen, and then he’s grinning, that big, boyish smile that still makes your heart skip.
“y/n?”
he calls, voice cutting through the music. the others falter too, turning to look, and you feel your face heat up as wonbin smirks and eunseok raises an eyebrow.
“uh, hi,”
you manage, holding up the bag like it’s a shield.
“i brought lunch?”
the staff don’t miss a beat, one of them pans the camera slightly, catching your awkward wave before sungchan jogs over, waving them off.
“cut it, cut it,” he laughs, though his cheeks are pink.
“this wasn’t part of the plan.”
“jagi, what plan?” you mutter, handing him the bento.
“you said noon.”
“i meant i’d call you at noon,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck.
“we got held up. this is… uh… live on youtube right now.”
you freeze. “wait, what?”
“yeah, like, twelve thousand people watching,”
sohee chimes in, peeking over sungchan’s shoulder.
“hi, y/n-noona! the chat’s going crazy.”
“oh my god,” you whisper, stepping back, but sungchan grabs your wrist gently, pulling you closer.
“it’s fine, they didn’t see much,” he says, voice low and reassuring.
“just… stay here a sec, okay? i’m dying for this.”
he opens the bag, peering inside, and his whole face lights up.
“kimbap? you’re the best.”
“you’re welcome,”
you mumble, still mortified. the others are already crowding around, anton snagging a piece before sungchan can swat his hand away.
“dude, she made it for me,”
sungchan protests, but he’s laughing, that easy, warm sound that always puts you at ease.
the staff call them back to finish the session, and you slip out as quietly as you can, heart pounding.
by the time you’re halfway home, your phone’s buzzing texts from friends, a couple of notifications from X.
‘sungchan’s wife spotted?’
one post reads, with a blurry screenshot of you handing him the bag.
another.
‘who’s the lunch angel???’
you groan, burying your face in your hands. so much for low-key.
it’s past eight when sungchan finally gets home, the apartment quiet except for the sound of the tv you’d left on. you’re curled up on the couch, scrolling through the chaos online.
fan edits,
theories,
even a fan-screenrecord of him blushing when you walked in. he drops his gym bag by the door and flops next to you, still in his hoodie, smelling faintly of sweat and cologne.
“yeobo,” he says, nudging your shoulder.
“you okay?”
“i’m fine,” you say, setting your phone down.
“you’re the one who got ambushed by your own wife on live.”
he laughs, head tipping back against the cushion.
“honestly? worth it. the guys wouldn’t shut up about how good the kimbap was. and the fans, god, they’re insane. someone called you ‘lunch fairy’ already.”
“i saw,” you say, biting back a smile.
“i didn’t mean to blow up your spot.”
“nah, it’s cool,”
he says, turning to face you. his eyes are soft, a little tired, but there’s that spark in them, like he’s still riding the high of seeing you earlier.
“i like that they know i’ve got someone taking care of me.”
your cheeks warm. “yeah?”
“yeah.” he leans closer, resting his forehead against yours.
“plus, you looked cute, all flustered like that. made my day.”
“shut up,” you mutter, shoving his chest lightly, but he just catches your hand, lacing his fingers through yours. his thumb brushes over your knuckles, and for a second, it’s just the two of you.
no cameras, no fans, no schedules.
“thanks for the food,” he says quieter, like it’s a secret.
“and for dealing with… all this.”
“anytime,” you reply, squeezing his hand.
“but next time, text me the right schedule, okay?”
he grins, pulling you into his side until you’re tucked against him, his arm heavy around your shoulders.
“deal. now, wanna see the clip of me tripping when i saw you? sohee sent it to me.”
you laugh, nodding as he pulls out his phone, the warmth of him next to you chasing away the day’s chaos. maybe the internet’s losing its mind, but here, with sungchan’s arm around you and his laugh, it feels like everything’s exactly where it should be.
summary — you slip backstage at riize’s concert with a thermos of tea for wonbin’s tired voice, ready to surprise your husband after his final performance of the night. well, he comes offstage sweaty and buzzing, and despite the chaos, he’s all smiles and sweet confessions just for you, making you feel like the only person in his world.
warnings — none, just tooth-rotting fluff and a little teasing from the members.
📌 any feedback are appreciated, i’d love to know what you think of my first mini-series, request open or send ask → 💌🦕🩵 !
🏷️ taglist ; @strawbrryvyy
the air backstage is thick with energy, fans still screaming beyond the walls, staff darting around like they’ve got a million places to be. you’re tucked in a corner near riize’s dressing room, a thermos of honey-lemon tea warm in your hands, waiting for the perfect moment. wonbin’s been texting you all day about this show, his voice was already scratchy this morning, and you could tell he was pushing through.
so here you are, ready to surprise him after his last stage of the night, feeling a little giddy at the thought of seeing his face light up.
you’ve done this before.
snuck in with the staff’s blessing, badge clipped to your jacket, blending into the chaos. they know you by now, the quiet wife who shows up with something homemade and a smile just for their vocalist. the dressing room door swings open, and you peek inside. shotaro’s sprawled out, fanning himself with a magazine, sungchan’s chugging water like he’s run a marathon, eunseok’s stretching his arms with that cool-guy smirk. seunghan’s scrolling his phone, sohee’s peeling off his stage jacket, and anton’s sitting cross-legged, texting furiously, well probably texting his mom.
wonbin’s not there yet, he’s still out on stage, wrapping up the encore. you can hear the faint pulse of the music, the crowd losing it as riize gives their all one last time.
you set the thermos on a table and linger near the door, fiddling with the hem of your sweater, trying not to look too obvious. the boys haven’t noticed you yet, too caught up in their post-show haze, and you’re fine with that.
keeps the surprise intact.
then the door bangs open,
and there he is, park wonbin, stumbling in with that wild, post-stage energy, hair plastered to his forehead with sweat, jacket half-unzipped, chest heaving. his eyes are bright, cheeks flushed, and he’s got the biggest smile you’ve ever seen, smile like he’s just conquered the world and can’t wait to tell you about it. the others cheer as he flops against the wall, catching his breath, but then he spots you, and that smile? it doubles, lighting up the whole damn room.
“jagi-ah?”
he says, voice rough and a little broken from singing his heart out. he’s across the floor before you can blink, all sweaty and warm and not caring one bit.
“you’re here?”
“surprise,” you say, holding up the thermos with a grin.
“brought tea for that voice of yours. you sound like you’ve been yelling at me all night.”
he laughs and god, that raspy, happy sound and grabs the thermos, but his eyes don’t leave yours.
“you didn’t have to do this,”
he says, soft, like it’s just you two in the middle of all this noise. his free hand finds yours, fingers lacing through like it’s second nature, and he’s so close you can feel the heat rolling off him.
“had to,” you say, brushing a damp strand of hair from his eyes.
“couldn’t let my husband lose his voice on me. and i wanted to see you up there, you were incredible.”
“gross, they’re doing it again,”
seunghan calls from the couch, smirking through a mouthful of chips he’s scavenged from somewhere. sungchan snorts, tossing a towel at him, and anton groans,
“can you not?”
wonbin rolls his eyes but doesn’t budge, just pulls you closer until his forehead’s almost touching yours.
“ignore them,”
he mutters, voice low, and then he leans in, all sweaty and grinning, trying to plant a kiss right on your lips.
“wonbin!”
you laugh, dodging just enough so he catches your cheek instead, his lips warm and a little salty.
“you’re a mess, go shower first!”
“don’t care,” he says, that smile still plastered on his face, eyes crinkling at the edges.
“been thinking about you all night. you were out there, right? saw you in the crowd, kept me going.”
your heart does a little somersault, he’s still got that shy edge, even after years together, and it kills you every time.
“front row,”
you admit, wiping a bead of sweat off his jaw with your sleeve.
“couldn’t miss it. you killed that last note…raspy and all.”
he ducks his head, blushing under the praise, and takes a sip of the tea, humming like it’s the best thing he’s ever tasted.
“this is perfect,” he says, looking at you over the rim.
“you’re perfect. how do you always know what i need?”
“wife instincts,”
you tease, and he laughs again, setting the thermos down so he can wrap both arms around you. he’s sticky and warm, but you don’t mind, not when he’s looking at you like you hung the moon.
“hey, hyung-nim and hyung-su-nim!”
shotaro calls, clapping his hands like he’s directing traffic.
“encore’s done, save the mushy stuff for home!”
the others snicker, sohee fake-gagging into his water bottle, but wonbin just groans, burying his face in your shoulder for a second.
“they’re the worst,”
he mumbles against your neck, breath tickling your skin. “sorry you have to deal with them too.”
“worth it for you,”
you say, running a hand through his damp hair, and he pulls back just enough to look at you really look at you like he’s memorizing every inch of your face.
“was so nervous out there,”
he admits, quieter now, like it’s a secret just for you.
“kept messing up in soundcheck, thinking I’d screw it up. then i saw you, and it was like… i don’t know. everything clicked.”
you tilt your head, surprised.
“you? nervous? you’ve done this a hundred times.”
“yeah, but it’s different with you,” he says, chewing his lip a little, that shy side peeking through.
“feels like i’ve gotta get it right, maybe show off a little, you know? you’re my good luck, y/n.”
your chest tightens, warmth spreading through you, and you can’t help but smile.
“bin-ah,” you say, soft, “you don’t need luck, you’re already amazing. i’m just here to cheer you on.”
he opens his mouth to argue, but eunseok cuts in,
“binnie, drink the tea and stop staring, y/n not going anywhere!”
the room erupts again, anton hiding his face like he’s mortified, and wonbin huffs, but he grabs the thermos anyway, taking another long sip.
“thanks for this,”
he says after a beat, setting it down and tugging you into a proper hug with arms tight, chin resting on your head.
“and for being here. means more than you know.”
“anytime,”
you murmur into his chest, feeling his heartbeat through the damp fabric of his shirt. then he’s pulling back, that grin back in full force, and before you can stop him, he leans in again, this time landing a quick, sweaty kiss right on your lips.
“bin-ah!”
you laugh, swatting at him as he pulls away, still beaming like he’s won something bigger than the show.
“you’re disgusting, hurry go clean up!”
“love you too,” he says, winking, and the boys groan in unison, seunghan yelling,
“we get it, you’re married!” but wonbin doesn’t care because he’s too busy looking at you, all sweaty and gross and perfect.
“shower,”
you insist, pushing him toward the bathroom door, but he grabs your hand one more time, squeezing it.
“wait for me?” he asks, voice softer now, eyes searching yours.
“always,”
you say, and he nods, finally letting go but not before stealing one more glance over his shoulder as he heads off, that huge, goofy smile still lighting up his face.
you sink into a chair, thermos cradled in your lap, watching the boys bicker and wind down around you. sungchan’s teasing sohee about missing a dance step, shotaro’s raiding the snack table, and anton’s finally put his phone down to join the chaos. it’s loud and messy and familiar, but all you can think about is wonbin of how he’ll be back soon, all cleaned up and still buzzing, probably pulling you into his arms the second he’s out.
and when he does, his hair wet, fresh shirt clinging to his shoulders, that smile still there he flops down beside you, arm slinging over your shoulders like it’s where it belongs.
“next time,” he whispers, lips brushing your ear, “i’m singing just for you. pick a song, okay?”
“deal,” you whisper back, leaning into him, feeling like the luckiest girl in the world, his y/n, always and forever be his y/n.
🪿 rie’s note — hey loves! this one’s for the wonbin stans who want that real, heart-fluttering connection, i’ve poured so much sweetness into this to make you feel like ‘his’ y/n. if you’d like more riize oneshot like this, just let me know wherever you’d like. i’d love to keep it going!
hello, i just wanted to say how much i love your writing. i just stumbled across your husband!wonbin piece and the way i was so immersed that i felt like i was actually y/n, like whenever i read what he was saying to y/n, i had the same reaction as her on the next line. you're really good with words and it's so satisfying reading your works! i just thought i should let you know hehe ☺️
okay, i'm going to go down riecoeur tumblr rabbit hole now ✌️
aww, this message seriously made my day! thank you so much for taking the time to send this, it truly means the world to me, knowing that you felt so immersed in the story and connected with y/n’s reactions is one of the best compliments a starter writer (like me) could ever receive! i always hope my writing can make readers feel something, so hearing this means so much. i hope you have fun going down the riecoeur tumblr rabbit hole hehe, and i appreciate you being here more than you know!
pairing — husband!riize x reader
summary — scenarios of each riize member as your husband, doting on you with love and care while you’re under the weather.
warnings — mentions of sickness (fever, cold symptoms, fatigue), mild fluff overload, brief mentions of medicine.
📌 any feedback are appreciated, i’d love to know what you think of my first mini-series, request open or send ask → 💌🦕🩵 !
🏷️ taglist ; @strawbrryvyy
shotaro
shotaro’s presence is like a warm ray of sunshine. he’s been fluttering around the house all morning, determined to make you feel better.
“my poor baby, you look miserable,”
he says softly, his voice laced with sympathy as he tucks the blanket around your shoulders, making sure not a single draft can sneak in. he disappears into the kitchen, and soon you hear the clatter of pots and the faint sound of him humming one of your favorite songs. when he returns, he’s carrying a tray with a steaming bowl of porridge, a glass of water,
and a little dish of sliced fruit.
“i added some honey to the porridge, it’s good for your throat,”
he explains, sitting beside you on the bed. he scoops up a spoonful, blowing on it carefully before bringing it to your lips.
“open wide, love. you’ll be back to dancing with me in no time, i promise.”
his eyes crinkle into a smile as you eat, and he stays there, feeding you slowly, chatting about silly things to keep your spirits up.
eunseok
eunseok isn’t the type to fuss loudly, but his actions scream care. he’s been hovering nearby all day, his calm demeanor a steady anchor amidst your feverish haze.
“you’re burning up again,” he murmurs, pressing a cool, damp cloth to your forehead.
his touch is gentle but firm, like he’s done this a hundred times before. he sits on the edge of the bed, watching you with those sharp, attentive eyes, making sure you’re comfortable. every so often, he swaps out the cloth for a fresh one or refills your water glass without you even asking.
“don’t push yourself,”
he says when you try to sit up, his hand resting lightly on your shoulder to ease you back down.
at one point, he pulls a chair closer and just sits there, scrolling through his phone, but you know he’s keeping an eye on you. when you cough, he’s up in an instant, grabbing the cough syrup and measuring it out with precision.
“drink this, and no complaining, it’ll help,” he says, his tone soft but leaving no room for argument.
it’s quiet, unspoken love, and it’s exactly what you need.
sungchan
sungchan has made it his personal mission to turn your sickness into a full-on pampering session.
“you’re not lifting a single finger, okay? i’ve got this,”
he declares, his voice brimming with determination as he scoops you up from the couch, despite your weak protests and carries you back to bed. he’s tall and strong, and the way he cradles you makes you feel small and safe. once you’re settled, he disappears into the kitchen, returning with a mug of herbal tea that smells faintly of chamomile and lemon.
“it’s hot, so careful,”
he warns, blowing on it gently before holding it to your lips. his free hand brushes your hair back, and he watches you sip with a proud little smile. later, when you need to use the bathroom, he’s right there again, insisting on carrying you despite your embarrassed laughter.
“stop wiggling, you’ll make me drop you,” he teases, but his grip is steady.
by the end of the day, he’s sprawled out beside you, one arm draped protectively over your waist, whispering,
“that’s my strong wife, gonna kick this cold’s butt, right?”
wonbin
wonbin’s approach to caretaking is equal parts tender and playful. he’s perched on the edge of the bed, his guitar resting in his lap as he strums a soft, lazy melody.
“it’s healing vibes, trust me,”
he says with a lopsided grin, glancing over at you bundled up in blankets. every now and then, he pauses to lean over, handing you a tissue or popping a cough drop into your mouth.
“you’re still pretty, you know even with the red nose and sniffles,”
he teases, dodging your weak swat at his arm. when your fever spikes, he’s quick to grab a cold compress, pressing it against your skin with a gentle touch.
“don’t scare me like that,” he mutters under his breath, though his playful smirk returns when you groan about the chills.
later, he leans down to kiss your forehead, ignoring your half-hearted “you’ll get sick too” warning. “worth it,” he whispers, resting his chin on top of your head as he strums again, filling the room with quiet comfort.
seunghan
seunghan is in full-on nurturing mode, and there’s no stopping him.
“you’re drowning in blankets now, aren’t you?”
he laughs as he piles yet another one on top of you, ignoring your muffled giggles from beneath the heap.
“stop laughing, you’ll cough more!”
he scolds, but his eyes are warm, crinkling at the edges as he adjusts the pile to make sure you’re snug. he’s been bustling around all day, making soup from scratch, double-checking your medicine schedule, even setting up a humidifier he dug out of the closet.
when he brings the soup to you, he sits cross-legged on the bed, holding the bowl with a proud grin.
“taste it, i put in extra ginger for your throat,”
he says, spooning it carefully to your lips. he watches you eat, nodding in approval when you hum at the flavor.
“i’m not leaving your side till you’re 100% better,”
he declares, settling in beside you with a book, occasionally reaching over to rub your back when a coughing fit hits. his fussing is relentless, but it’s the sweetest kind of chaos.
sohee
sohee refuses to let your sickness dampen his need to be close to you.
“i don’t care if i get sick too,”
he insists, climbing under the covers despite your hoarse warnings. he props himself up on an elbow, gazing at you with those big, soft eyes as he brushes a strand of hair from your face.
“you look tired, rest, okay?” he murmurs, his voice gentle.
he’s been your personal assistant all day, handing you tissues, making sure you take your medicine, even brewing you a pot of tea he found in the back of the pantry. when your throat starts hurting, he grabs his phone and starts singing you a lullaby, his voice sweet and a little shy.
“it’ll help you sleep,”
he says between verses, pausing to pop a cough drop into your mouth with a small smile. he stays curled up beside you, his warmth seeping into your aching bones, and even when you drift off, you can feel his hand resting lightly on yours, a quiet promise he’s not going anywhere.
anton
anton’s a little out of his depth, but his effort is so earnest it melts your heart.
“okay, two teaspoons—wait, no, tablespoons? shoot,”
he mumbles to himself, fumbling with the medicine bottle in the kitchen. you hear a small clatter and a sheepish.
“oops, sorry, babe!”
before he shuffles back with a slightly sticky spoon and a glass of water.
“i think i got it right this time,”
he says, laughing nervously as he hands it to you. he sits cross-legged on the floor beside the bed, resting his chin on his hand as he watches you take it.
“feeling any better?”
he asks, his wide eyes hopeful. to distract you from the fever, he starts reading random facts off his phone,
“did you know octopuses have three hearts? oh, and they can change color!” his voice a comforting ramble.
later, he climbs onto the bed, hesitating before wrapping an arm around you.
“tell me if you need anything, okay? i’m not going anywhere,” he says softly, and you can tell he means it with every fiber of his being.
I’m sorry but what happened with wonbin au?? 😓😓😓 I can’t find it
i’m really sorry for suddenly deleting it! i actually have another plan for a wonbin series, so i decided to take it down. thank you for your interest, though! i hope you’ll look forward to what’s coming next!!
if you have any riize fic ideas, feel free to send them my way! before requesting, please make sure to check out my blog rules to see what i do and don’t write. this helps keep everything smooth and enjoyable for both of us! i’m excited to see what ideas you have, let’s create something fun together! ♡
have you ever wanted a dedicated space just for riize fanfiction? a place to share your works, discover new stories, and connect with fellow fans who love writing about them as much as you do? well, it’s finally here!
✨ welcome to ‘house of briize’ ✨
this is a community built for writers, readers, and daydreamers who can’t get enough of riize. whether you’re into fluff, angst, slow burns, or anything in between, well, this is the place for you!
if you love riize and fanfiction, this is your new home. come join with rie and let’s build something amazing together!
summary — eunseok loses his wedding ring and panics, too nervous to tell you. unbeknownst to him, you’ve already found it on the bathroom sink but decide to tease him a little.
warnings — none, just fluff and light teasing between a married couple.
📌 any feedback are appreciated, i’d love to know what you think of my first mini-series, send ask → 💌🦕🩵 !
🏷️ taglist ; @strawbrryvyy
while waiting for eunseok you decide to head to the bathroom to wash up. that’s when you see his wedding ring, sitting innocently on the edge of the sink. you pause, smirking to yourself. he must’ve taken it off earlier and forgot about it.
typical song eunseok.
you pick it up, twirling it between your fingers, and instead of saying anything, you slip it into your pocket. this could be fun.
later, when he’s sprawled on the couch next to you, you glance at his hand. bare. no ring. he hasn’t noticed yet or if he has, he’s not saying anything.
so you lean over, resting your chin on his shoulder, and casually ask.
“yeobo, where’s your ring?”
he freezes for a split second, and you catch it, the tiniest flinch. then he turns to you with that easy smile of his, the one he uses when he’s trying to play it cool.
“oh, jagi, uh, i took it off to wash the dishes. didn’t wanna get it dirty, you know?”
you raise an eyebrow, fighting back a grin.
“hm. okay.” you don’t push it further, just snuggle closer and let it slide for now. he’s probably sweating bullets inside, and that’s enough for you.
the next morning, you’re both at the table, eating breakfast like it’s any other day. eunseok’s munching on toast, hair still a little messy from sleep, looking all cozy in his hoodie. you sip your coffee, watching him and decide it’s time to strike.
“jagi,” you say, keeping your tone light, “can you give me your ring later? i’m gonna take it to get cleaned. it’s looking kinda dull.”
he chokes, just a little on his toast, coughing into his fist. you bite your lip to keep from laughing as he scrambles to recover.
“uh, my ring? oh, yeah, uh… i think it’s… somewhere. i’ll grab it later.”
“somewhere?” you tilt your head, playing confused. “didn’t you just have it off for dishes last night? where’d you put it?”
his ears are turning pink now, and it’s adorable how bad he is at this.
“yeah, no, i mean, it’s probably in the kitchen still. i’ll check after breakfast.”
you hum, leaning back in your chair with a teasing smile.
“you sure? ‘cause i’d hate for it to get lost or something. that’d be a shame, right?”
he laughs, but it’s nervous, and he rubs the back of his neck.
“yeah, total shame. i’ll… i’ll find it, don’t worry.”
you let him stew for a minute, watching him poke at his food like it’s suddenly the most interesting thing in the world. then you reach into your pocket, pull out the ring, and slide it across the table toward him.
“this one, maybe?”
his eyes go wide, and he stares at it like it’s a ghost before looking up at you.
“where… how did you…”
“found it on the sink last night,” you say, grinning.
“you’re lucky i didn’t flush it down the toilet just to mess with you.”
he groans, dropping his head into his hands, but you can see the smile tugging at his lips.
“you’re evil, you know that?”
“and you’re terrible at lying,” you shoot back, laughing.
“seriously, oppa, you were gonna let me think you lost it forever?”
he peeks at you through his fingers, sheepish.
“i didn’t wanna say anything ‘cause i thought you’d be mad. i was gonna look for it today, i swear.”
“mad? nah.” you reach over, ruffling his hair.
“just don’t lose it for real next time, okay? i kinda like being married to you.”
he finally relaxes, picking up the ring and slipping it back on his finger where it belongs.
“deal. but you’re still evil.”
“love you too,” you say, and he rolls his eyes, but the way he squeezes your hand across the table tells you he doesn’t mind one bit.
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