ZEROBASEONE ONESHOTS AND IMAGINES

Oneshot- Ricky

Promise me- Shen Ricky

About: When you don't tell your boyfriend you're sick and still perform!

Genre: fluff, tiny angst 

Pairing: idol!bf!Ricky x fem!idol!reader

Warning: mention of headaches, blurry vision, nausea and similar symptoms, softie bf!Ricky, that's it i think?

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 over thinker 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 perfectionist 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 stylist 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 too 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?"