summary: your architect husband who just doesn’t know when to rest.
wc: 515
genre: fluff
you quietly walk into his study, a hot cup of tea balanced on its matching porcelain plate. he’s so focused on his work he doesn’t hear how the floorboard creaks beneath your feet or feel your presence behind him watching him in his element.
your husband has an eye for architecture. so much so that he gets completely absorbed in his designs that if it weren’t for you, he probably wouldn’t sleep a wink and miss every meal. it’s a daily routine to come into his office and pull him away for bed.
“honey, won’t you come to bed now?” you place his tea down on his desk, far away enough from any important sketches. you balance yourself on a hand set down right by the sketchbook he’s currently using, the other on your hip.
“in a bit, my love. i’ve still got a lot to finish.” his fingers don’t loosen their grip on the pencil. he’s currently working on one of his many projects he’s yet to finish. you’ve lost count on what number this one was. he gets so excited with the many ideas he comes up with that he has to start new sketches before he loses them.
while it is his job and a job he’s extremely passionate about, you care about his well being. self care comes first in your eyes.
“while i’d hate to disturb your current creative flow,” you bring a hand to his hair, combing through it. “it is just about to be 2 in the morning and you need your rest.”
“there’s so much left to do, though.” he finally looks up at you. ah, there are those beautiful eyes that you love so much. always hunched over a sketchpad you don’t really get to see them until you force him away.
“donghyun,” you hold his face in your hands. you see how prominent his eye bags are. you reach for his glasses gently pulling them off and setting them on the desk. “your eyes are practically begging for sleep.”
you see the way he’s pouting at you like a child begging for more time to play, but rest is rest and it is very much needed.
“i made you some chamomile tea,” you turn to grab the cup the liquid inside probably cool enough to sip. “here.”
“i’m sorry it’s always the same thing every night.” his shoulders drop and he grabs the tea cup from you, taking a sip. “you shouldn’t have to take care of me like i’m a child.”
“i understand that this is your passion and i don’t mind it, but i also want you to stop neglecting yourself. i need you healthy and alive.” you joke.
he laughs and sets the cup back onto the plate. his hands reaching for your waist. “how about we spend a day together tomorrow? i’ll put the sketching to the side and you could have me all to yourself.”
“hm, i’d like that.” you lean down to leave a kiss on his forehead. “will you join me in bed now?”
“of course, my love.”
✐ᝰ : i knew i had to write something as soon as i saw the pictures …. ( 𖦹‸𖦹)..
tags: drabble! suggestive. gender neutral reader but mention of pregnancy as a joke. reader is dramatic af. also lowkey strength kink lol
a/n: first bnd fic! inspired by how insane his arms have been looking lately. #imcrazy
♡
you're not the most subtle.
leehan has been wearing the tightest little black shirt, and you're wondering which one of the boys convinced him to get such a slutty top. you haven't been able to stop staring at his biceps all day. seriously—you've been trying to get work done, eat, and every time he strikes up a conversation with you that requires you to look at him—even from the corner of your eye—your train of thought completely leaves you. you at least had the self control not to drool, but even that might've been asking too much of you.
"are you okay?" leehan finally asks, eyeing you quizzically. he strikes the question when you're on the sofa together, taking a break from your assignments.
you're laying down with your legs propped up on leehan's lap. it's normal, it's familiar. you use this angle to skillfully cover his entire being with your phone screen. you thankfully forgot about your predicament having been sucked into your break, which was essentially mindless scrolling time, but he just had to remind you that you had the most gorgeous man you've ever laid eyes on at arms length by speaking to you. how could he.
you suck in a breath because in your idiocy forgot you can't look at him without intense primal lust coming over you, and you avert your eyes.
"yeah, i'm good. why?"
to which he replies with a bit of a grumble, "see. that. you've been doing that. all day." you could hear the pout in his voice but for your own sake continue to stare at the wall.
"you're gonna have to be more specific," you try to deflect, pretending to go back to scrolling on your phone but you knew you couldn't really sell it with the way your thumbs began to swipe faster and faster with no real direction. your eyes, curse them, trail back to his goddamn arms, hugged so nicely by the black sleeves of the shirt. you're not ready to reveal the truth yet. on one hand, you think it's funny to mess with him, and on the other hand you truly can't handle the sheer embarrassment of admitting just how attracted you are to this man.
he always knows how to get under your skin, because then he starts the questioning. "why? did i do something wrong? why won't you look at me?" but there's no real concern in his voice, instead it takes on a low, sulky approach—he knows you're being coy as a joke, but it's true he doesn't know why. he always uses this voice when he wants something out of you. you hate that it works.
you feel yourself get hot.
"no, hani, you didn't do anything wrong," your voice betrays you with how flustered you sound, unable to keep up the nonchalant front, "it's just ..."
"just what?" it's almost like his ears perked up, a puppy hearing his favorite word.
"just ..." you feel yourself get sucked in deeper by the image of sheer muscle before you. it's plenty obvious where you're staring now that you're so close in proximity.
you can't help yourself! it's not your fault his arms are just huge. you know he's been going to the gym but for some reason it's reallllly noticable today and it's ruining your life. it's even worse because he has such a cute face. the juxtaposition makes you feel absolutely rabid. you can't stop yourself from imagining how strong he would be against you, how he could hold you down, order you to stop squirming ...
your eyes flicker up to his face where you can see the realization dawn on him and you know you fucked up. the blank confusion mixed with uncertainty morphs into a devious little smirk and glint in his eye. you want to blow him up, affectionately. he's so cute.
"hmm," he seems pleased with himself.
"no." you groan, tossing your phone into the couch cushions for it to be lost forever, and bury your face in your hands. "noooo!"
he giggles like a little kid that just got a gold star on a test. "is there something you want to say?" he intentionally moves his arm so that it flexes. your eyes catch it just a little.
you peek out from behind your hands, voice muffled, "it's fine. i don't even care."
the mischievous twinkly in his gaze only gets more intense, "will you like it better if i do this?" he flashes his gummy smile at you, dimples and all.
to your dismay he uses his other hand to roll up the sleeve, revealing more of his bicep and the beginnings of his shoulder.
"stop that! stop!" you screech at him as your stomach does the biggest flip ever, and you try to kick him with no real aggression behind it. you just can't handle how hot he is. before you can do any real damage he stills your legs with just one arm. he holds you down, shifting his position so he's right between your legs, looking down at you on the couch.
you can't move one inch. even if you try to flail harder, just one arm is enough to stop you—you end up paralyzed under his grip now stuck in a much more provocative situation. the thought sends another jolt of butterflies through your body and you simply want to pass away.
"hani, let go," you grit your teeth, feeling your neck get prickly hot with embarrassment. this is bad. really bad. you, for a split second, envision a beautiful future where you drop out of this class because you decide to have children with this man.
"no, not until you admit you like the shirt."
you bite your lip. you seriously can't take this anymore. the heat is swelling in your belly and you have to put and end to this before you fail this class for not turning in your assignments.
"no, silly. i like your arms in that shirt. ive been trying not to jump your bones all day. like if i even look at you my mind starts racing. especially because i have work to do and you're distracting, and now i really have to get up before i don't finish. and if you make me admit any more than that i will be backflipping off the side of this building and there will be no more happy fun time together, ok."
he blinks for a bit, then gets a little red in the face.
"... i didn't think you'd just say it."
you snort a little, amused, "you told me to. now can you let me go? that paper is waiting for me, and it's not gonna write itself."
you feel him stiffen. his hands twitch a bit where he's holding your calves and thigh. he ruminates for a bit, looking at the swell of his muscle over your legs. the moment of embarrassment has now been quickly replaced by that familiar silent look of childish joy, like he's planning to mess with you. "well now i don't really want to."
he meets your gaze, eyes glossy and a little bit like a wolf about to hunt. he adores you so much. it's crazy—the way his doe eyes can turn into something so spine-chillingly seductive, swaying you with just one look.
"... leehan." you squeak. you don't know what compells you to say his name, but it comes out softly and meekly. you feel tingly all over.
and just like that, he pulls you closer to him by shifting your hips up so that you could wrap your legs around his waist easily. he does it with such ease you don't even realize it. he leans down to kiss you, and before you know it you're making out on the couch, giggling and smiling into each other's lips.
"you're funny," he's breathless, taking a break to press his forehead against yours as he looks into your eyes. his hair is long enough that it tickles your face. "i like you."
"thank you. i think you're pretty okay, too." you snicker, then peck his lips. you reach your arms up behind his neck and pull him down again, letting your hands drift gently over his shoulders and down to his arms, feeling the mass of his skin and letting your hands play with the hem of his sleeve. heh.
of course he notices how you're grasping at him. he chuckles, wiggling his brow at you like a dork. "would it be better if it was off?"
you can let yourself enjoy this, just for a little, you think. but you know you're probably going to end up pulling an all nighter. in more ways than one.
tags: established relationship, fluff, cute domesticity, leehan is just the sweetest hehe
a/n: dedicated to my lovely twinskie @ihanzzn! happy birthday liakins, i had to pull out a two-year old draft just so i could post something for you on your special day hihi i hope you like this! love u <3
♫ nothing - bruno major
a candlelit dinner in a fancy restaurant calls your name from across town.
you have a reservation for two at seven pm, but the fat raindrops that pitter-patter against your window and the arms that are thrown over your waist and tucked snug under your neck forbid you from getting out of bed. the sheets are warm from shared body heat, skin rubbing against skin; there's a cozy haze in the air that you're sure could only be born out of love and insurmountable affection. it's three against one, and you're clearly losing.
your boyfriend, for one, doesn't seem to notice or mind as the minutes tick by.
"han," you mumble, voice muffled in his hair. he hums softly, though you're not sure if he heard you or is simply murmuring in his half-asleep daze. he might already be asleep even.
"leehan," you try again, patting his shoulder gently to try and get him off of you. emphasis on try; he still doesn't move an inch from where he's sprawled comfortably on top of you. "baby, we have to go."
"go where?" he almost grumbles in reply. "to the restaurant. we have a reservation in twenty minutes, honey."
"that's today?" he finally moves, but only to pick his head up from where it's smushed against your neck. his half-lidded eyes scan your face and he can't help but grin, utterly in love. he leans down to press a kiss to your lips. "i thought that was next week."
"leehan," you press, trying to sound firm, but a fond chuckle bubbles out of you at the sight of him. he's just adorable, even if he pretends to be a little stupid and oblivious to your date plans. "you booked the reservation for today."
leehan flops back down, groaning as if he's reminded of a bad decision.
"why did i do that?"
you tilt your head, raising a brow at him. "so you don't want to go on a date with me?"
he shakes his head adamantly, rubbing his face against the soft of your shirt. you can almost feel his pout. "not what i meant, love."
five minutes go by, and then another, and as you stare at the top of leehan's head, still solidly pinned down to the bed, you realize that there's no chance for you anymore but to succumb to his lazy desires.
"fine. we'll stay. but just so you know, i really wanted to go to dinner. like really wanted to. i'm making you feel guilty about this, babe."
leehan chuckles, not sounding the slightest bit guilty at all, and squeezes you affectionately. "i'll make it up to you, sweetheart. don't you worry."
the rain has only grown heavier after a few hours. however, you've got no time or reason to feel bummed when you're right where you want to be—sitting on the carpeted floor of your living room, bathed in the warm, dim glow of the countless lamps you've switched on, snuggled between your boyfriend's legs and his warmth wrapped all around you.
while you're not eating a five-course meal, you've settled on the next best thing—pizza, a huge tub of your favorite ice cream, and a matching lego set that's currently under the works with leehan spearheading the project like his life depends on it.
he's laser focused, brows furrowed as he meticulously sticks pieces together and reads the manual beside him. a comfort movie plays lowly on the tv, but you both pay it no mind. leehan's too busy building, and you're too busy staring at him.
"is this what you meant when you said you'll make it up to me?"
leehan hums absentmindedly in response, and you laugh fondly.
"i can't say i'm surprised. you're more focused on that lego set than me."
a soft click! as the last pieces stick in place and leehan drops everything in his hands and turns to you. you're almost startled with how close he is; you can see the twinkle in his eyes, crescent-like as he smiles, and a subtle tinge on his cheeks, though you're not sure if it's because of the lights or of something else.
"now i'm not." leehan has always had this habit of staring at you, quietly, and looking as if you're the most beautiful person he has ever seen. his eyes sweep across your face, lingering on every feature like he's committing them to memory. you've never gotten used to this, and even after years of dating, it still makes you warm all over.
"you're so pretty, love." he murmurs, impossibly sweet.
"how'd i ever get so lucky with you?"
you laugh, face now positively flushed. of course, he has to top it off with something cheesy. you squirm, trying to escape from your boyfriend's sappy antics but he doesn't let you go, giggling along with you and wrapping his arms tighter around you, pulling you close.
"leehan! let me go!"
he shakes his head, burying his grin against your neck. "not a chance."
a/n: it's so funny you can tell the difference between my writing styles now and two years ago 😭 this was originally an enha drabble but i never finished it lols
tag list (open!): @cinnamorollhyuka @taestulipss @starriniqhts @ivehan
✶.˚˖࿔ ࣪ don't want to hold another's hand - leehan.
✶ part of the memories to a song event!
⋆｡°✩ pairing leehan x gn!reader wc 0.813k tw none genre fluff, uni!au, pining (so much pining), leehan is Down Bad, girl this is like no plot just yearning
⋆˚꩜｡author's note requested, everyone go wish my twin lialia @ihanzzn the bestest birthday ever !!!! dedicating this fic to u hehe ily <3 also why can i not escape writing friends being in love w/ each other... not proofread oops anyway enjoy and happy reading <3
˚₊‧꒰ა prompt "their breath hitching whenever the other gets a little closer, feeling crushed when that action is taken as a sign of discomfort, and they watch them slowly back off".
⋆˙⟡ synopsis you're the hand that anchors him to the ground, the hand he never wants to let go of.
♬⋆.˚ listen to falling in love (no na).
⋆⭒˚.⋆ reblogs + feedback very much appreciated! ^^
to be honest, he doesn’t know how long ago it all started.
all he remembers is feeling breathless when your bright smile greeted him upon meeting you. it was the first day of a shared class, bright and early at the beginning of the school year. your friend had spotted his friend, they’d started chatting it up, and now he was left facing a very pretty individual.
“hi!” you’d beamed at him like he’d known you forever, holding out your hand. “i’m y/n.”
“leehan,” he’d offered back, and you’d repeated his name in a way that made him wonder what it would take to hear you say it again.
“leehan!”
he blinks, eyes focusing back on your hand waving in front of his face. you’re leaning forward, propping yourself up on the desk you’re both seated at. the hum of the library is thick, the clacking of computer keys and shuffling of papers nearly overwhelming in what one would normally consider to be relative silence.
“hey,” you say, tilting your head ever so slightly. “hey, you okay?”
leehan nods slowly, the effort needed to do such a simple motion surprisingly similar to moving underwater. “yeah. just… been staring at this computer for far too long.”
you ponder this for a moment before reaching out, tilting his laptop screen so that the document on screen disappears and the fish stickers on the back of the laptop come into view. he stares at you in surprise, watching as you close your own device and push back your chair, coming around the table to hold a hand out in front of him.
“come with me.”
“what-”
“leehan,” you say with all the mock seriousness that you can muster (he knows it’s not real because of the twinkle in your eyes, the way you’re fighting back a wide grin). “come with me.”
and who is he to refuse, when you’re right there and asking him to hold your hand?
so he takes your hand. he takes your hand, just like he’d taken your hand back then, and then you’re running through the shelves and the halls, muffled laughter bubbling up between the both of you, and your bright smile is back and your cheeks are round with happiness and gods, how is he here with you?
your hand is warm in his, much warmer than the burst of cold night air that envelops the two of you when you finally make it outside. the hour is late, but somehow the grassy field in front of the library feels different under the moonlight. you turn to him, breathless and all smiles, and the realization of just how close you two are crashes into him. he can see his face reflected in your eyes, wide and melding into the dilated pupils you’re gazing at him through, and he wonders what he must look like, from your point of view. he’s all you can see right now.
all he can see is you.
his breath stutters in his chest, heat rushing to his cheeks. they say the deeper you go in the ocean, the more the weight of the water presses down on your chest, heavier and heavier until you can’t breathe.
how far deep must he be right now, to be feeling like all the air has been sucked out of his lungs?
“oh,” you breathe slowly, and leehan cannot deny the simple fact that even such a small sound from you is lovely. you blink in what feels to be slow motion (or is the entire world underwater? the way your hair shifts in the wind, could it not be from the currents that hold the two of you afloat? the moonlight filters over the both of you like sunlight through water, the stars dotting the sky above you like seashells on a beach. is anything not possible when you’re standing here with him?)
you let out a breath, looking away from him, and leehan feels the currents twisting between you. “i’m sorry,” you say, stepping back and letting go of his hand, and now he’s falling, sinking, and his surroundings are so much colder now that you’re not anchoring him to the ground. something in his chest clenches (his lungs, still searching for air? his heart, searching for your warmth?), and it takes everything in him to push down all his inner turmoil and simply smile.
well. smile and reach back for your hand.
you glance up in surprise, inhaling sharply when he squeezes your fingers between his own. “don’t apologize,” he murmurs. “please.”
the look in your eyes is one he can’t read for one terrifying, endless moment. then you’re smiling again, squeezing back, and leehan knows he’ll fight back against the currents, swim up from the depths to get back to the surface, to the source of the light that filters over both of you.
a/n: something something depths of space... depths of the ocean... yeah. :]
hii! just read through your fics and i genuinely find them so interesting☺️
i was wondering if i could suggest a prompt where leehan is a well loved emperor of the seven seas, yet somehow finds himself stranded on the beach. one summer evening, reader finds him while taking a stroll and puts him back to shore (obviously terrified upon seeing his tail). when he wakes up, he finds reader unbelievably beautiful and wants to make her his empress. of course though, that’s basically impossible (is it though?🧐) considering he’s a merman and reader is human. to add on that, reader also has thalassophobia, and it’s bad…
just came up with this cuz i remembered his love for fish lol. pls notice me!
hello my wonderful anon!
you have been noticed!
thank you so much for sharing this idea, it's so beautiful T^T the detail in it too! Sheesh i can totally see this play out!
I honestly thought that there would be many fics out there with merman leehan already HOWEVER i would like to honour ur efforts because you provided so much detail. I can't say it will be written immediately since i have exams and other fics i need to work on, but because you reached out to me with hope, i will reward it and actually write this (i'll try to get on it as soon as i can)
I will say, your prompt really stirred up a few ideas in my mind so the story will generally follow your suggestion but i have some inclusions i'd like to add. I hope you won't mind! (could u pls send another ask letting me know if you do mind tho, i dont wanna stomp on your parade!!!)
this is just a small recap/rec of some of the best fics i've read in the past couple months (and have talked about on my reblogs over here) in case any new readers are looking for bnd fics to read! in no particular order:
war with heaven (hts) by @dat-town - this one was so fun for me bcs i was looking for some mecha bnd fics and kathy magically read my mind and wrote the most awesome pacrim series ever!! if you like hurt/comfort infirmary scenes, this is the one for you!
moe @moesthinking's roommate sungho smau! reader is so amusing and the texts are all so funny and enjoyable. this one's a light-hearted work that can cheer you up if you're feeling low
puzzle piece, you're my missing part (kwh) by @starriniqhts - tender is the word for this one. if you too are overheating from the wrath of the sun this summer, this sweet lil winter fic will cool your burning heart with some refreshing sweetness :)))
conquest of spaces (lrw) by @mwotgata - had the time of my life reading this fic because it's a. RIWOO and b. SPORTS! i think i've been desperate to get out of the sun these days lol you'll see a pattern in the stuff i've been enjoying. this one's written so well and all the characters are fleshed out and relatable and lovely in so many ways. big rec! (+ the spoiler-heavy ask i left in june's inbox lol)
maggots for brains (kwh) by @coriihanniee - also been very olivia pilled and i was begging for an album-inspired fic when kimmi showed up like an angel with wings. she wrote the feelings of the initial stages of a relationship and all the anxieties that come with it so so well.
mr. vampire (klh) by @beomtomie - GENIUS! FABULOUS! FUNNY! this is ongoing and im so so excited for updates oml,, if you want to read a vampire au but balance it out with some lightheartedness and humour, this is the perfect choice!
spidermyung drabble (mjh) by @mwotgata - was not ready to get hit with this angsty spidermyung on a random weekday my junebug. but im still thanking you for it bcs it was amazing <33
these are just a few of the things that i read and loved, there are many more under my tags on @rosycanread that you guys should totally check out. if you like any of it, do remember to drop by the authors' inboxes and let them know your thoughts!! they're all so awesome and deserve to be showered with love for the work they put into creating these stories for us <3333
syn: where tennis is the sixth and best love language
genre: sports, romance, ACTUAL love triangle, inspired by challengers (2024)
cw: SUGGESTIVE - including mlm (making out, suggestive language etc. etc.), mention of past injury, ts is a bisexual disaster
wc: 3k
a/n: this one is for my junebug @mwotgata who requested a childhood friends love triangle gfz for my 1st anniversary event and somehow we yapped it into becoming a whole codependent trio sportfics challengers situation. it was so hard to hold back on how explicit this was about to turn, but i think i managed to save my need to write a codependent trio for the ao3 drafts for now lol. I HOPE YOU LIKE THIS JUNEBUG!!!
main masterlist
Childhood friends are like calluses.
Irksome, distracting things that follow you around wherever you go. But hard to peel off once they've hardened into your skin and you've grown too comfortable with it to get rid off—until you don't know how to live without it.
Sometimes you want to crush them into an all-consuming hug.
And sometimes—sometimes—you want to ram a racket through their heads.
“GET YOUR FUCKING HEAD IN THE GAME, LEEHAN,” you scream from the bleachers, tightening your fingers around the tennis ball in your fist—the one you keep with you for your anger issues, as recommended by your therapist.
It doesn't fucking work; the vein in your temple throbs twice as hard when he misses an easy shot. Taesan is smirking from the other side of the net, proud like he'd done something commendable by flailing his arms around and getting that point on luck alone.
His form’s all wrong, his movements too stiff, and he's as observant as a fucking fruit fly to notice anything amiss.
Leehan, on the other hand, doesn't even care that he sucks. He just shrugs like it's a pastime of his to get on your nerves. Which it probably is—but you aren't going to entertain that shitty personality of his right now, not when championships are in barely a month and you still haven't perfected their playing styles like you'd sworn you would.
If you can't win—then you'll at least make sure that they do. For you, and because of you. Your name will headline one way or another, that's a vow you've engraved into your soul.
“Take five,” you huff before sitting back down, letting the cool evening air brush your cheeks as you calm down from the rage of the game, abusing the heck out of the tennis ball like it's a stress toy.
All you want is some alone time—but Leehan is bounding over like a bunny rabbit as though you hadn't just threatened his life (and/or his potential to have mini Leehans) not even ten minutes ago.
“Pass me the water, Y/N-ie,” he’s gleeful as he takes the seat next to you. When you refuse to budge, he just giggles and leans over to take the bottle himself, easily ignoring the way Taesan regards him with a glare when his arm brushes over your knee.
“I played well, didn't I?” Taesan shifts your attention to him, nudging your shoe with his.
“Meh,” you sigh. He deflates at once, then groans as he slumps into his own seat on your other side.
The thing is—playing well isn't enough. Doing the bare minimum isn't enough to get you that gold medal like you intend to. Collegiate tennis might not be as serious to the two of them, but it's your only ticket to securing a spot in a Grand Slam tourney one day. Not as a player like you'd always hoped for—but as a coach, now.
But what's the point if they can't listen properly?
“Work on your fucking grip,” you say one last time before kicking Taesan’s feet out of the way and leaving them both in the dust, forcing them to watch after your retreating figure in various levels of dejection.
//
Taesan is a good player.
He is—he knows he is. He does his due diligence when it comes to studying the sport, rigorously, until he's all but breathing it. He eats the right things, sleeps the right amount, works out as told by the instructor, has his weekly check-ups to remain in top condition. He's going to go professional eventually, so he's quite proud of all that he's achieved so far.
Except for the fact that he can't seem to make you proud no matter how hard he tries to.
The steam goes hazy over his vision, the running shower drowning out his loud thoughts for some time.
For exactly two minutes actually, because suddenly he's being crowded from the back by a familiar body, pushing into his personal space like there aren't five other shower stalls in the same row.
“Move over. Gotta wash hair,” Leehan demands as he scruffs up his blond hair like a shaggy retriever.
It's a good thing Taesan has learnt to live with his whims—at least he'd been smart enough to wear a towel around his waist this time. A decade of friendship makes you guaranteed to guess the other person’s next actions right. While it works to his favour when he's going up against his best friend in a match, it's detrimental to his sanity during other times.
And Leehan, he has a horrible habit of ignoring boundaries.
“Shampoo my hair, won't you? My arms are all sore to stretch it all the way back,” he whines, sending a weird prickle down Taesan's spine.
Must be annoyance.
But he knows there's no point in pushing back against his demands. He'll just start pouting and pretending to be heartbroken over the rejection and eventually, wear down Taesan into being the one to apologise. He doesn't know how you do it, but the only person who seems to thoroughly render his charm useless is you.
“She went hard on us today, huh?” Leehan says passively, letting Taesan tilt his head sideways to push down on a stiff muscle near his neck, groaning at the relief. “You think her knee’s hurting again?”
“Hm,” is the only response Taesan gives, knowing that you're not the type to like bringing attention to that career-ending injury from two years back even if the sporadic pains eat away at your senses.
“She's doing that thing again, y’know that right?” the blond continues, eyeing Taesan from the corner of his eye. “The ‘vicariously living through us’ thing.”
“I don't mind if she does,” he replies simply.
“Weak, aren't you?” Leehan giggles, but there's no bite there; he's genuine. “I am too. I'd let her do anything to me.”
“Because you love her,” Taesan notes, gently pulling at his scalp, lathering properly. He says it like it's a fact—because how do you not love the person who showed you this sport that's half your life now? The three of you were interwoven from the first day, when you had pulled him into your little duo and turned it into a trio—a bunch of inseparable preschoolers who'd met at the junior tennis club.
“You love her too,” Leehan replies in like. “I'd take her injury for her if I could, and I know you would too.”
He would, but he doesn't say that for now. “Championships are about to start soon. I think she's serious about dropping us if we don't show her what she wants… I don't want that to happen,” he admits instead, letting the anxiety bleed through. You might be a loyal and long friend, but he's aware that nothing comes close to the love you have for this sport—not him, nor Leehan. If he fucks this up, he might as well say goodbye to all of it.
The shower dies down as Leehan twists the tap off, and Taesan only snaps out of his musings when he’s moving to grab his own towel from where he'd haphazardly strewn it over the door, brushing his arm all over Taesan’s exposed ones.
“It won't happen,” Leehan assures, casually fluffing up his wet hair as he rubs it dry. Taesan kind of wants to help; he's doing it all wrong. “We're going to make her proud, okay? You just have to fix that grip of yours,” he winks as he tosses a suggestive look towards Taesan’s hand, making him go red all over.
But before he can make it clear that he is not flustered by the comment and that he's just overheating from the hot shower, Leehan is already brushing past him—but not before backtracking to plant a light kiss on his already pink cheek.
Taesan grumbles at the touch. He's been doing this since they were kids—being all touchy and affectionate—it’s nothing weird.
Whatever he feels for you and Leehan, his best friends—it’s normal.
Normal, he tells himself.
Completely normal.
//
They make it. Regional championships for the doubles teams. You've been staying up all night trying to correct every one of their gaps, studying the opponents with an intensity that almost leaves cracks in your brain.
There's a relief that you've never felt before laving over you as you toss a shot of vodka into your mouth, not minding the obnoxious chatter around you for once in your life.
It's not like you can relax for a long time. But for two days, you can manage with some alcohol in the system. In fact, it might be better to not be sober for the time period if it means you have to engage in small talk with strangers and network all night for the boys’ sake.
“—brilliant for your age. It's such a shame you don't play anymore,” some old, balding guy in a suit is saying. He's someone important to the tennis association, but it was never in your nature to care for the business side of the sport—charming people's pants off is more of Leehan’s department.
“Wow. Barely into the welcome party and you're already getting plastered,” the smug voice shows up at your side, blond hair accompanying it. Speak of the devil.
He makes conversation with the older man, all the while suavely slipping a glass of water into your hand. You swallow it without complaints, knowing you won't want to deal with a headache tomorrow.
“Nervous?” Leehan returns back to you, poking your head with his finger.
“No. Why would I be?” you wave him away.
“Taesanie is. And the two of you are weirdly similar sometimes.” He gestures to the corner of the room where Taesan is squirming on the spot, trying to leave the obviously flirtatious advances from some guy. “Think we should rescue him?”
You don't know why you nod yes. Usually, you couldn't care less about what your friends do outside of tennis in their private lives, as long as it didn't interfere with their work ethic. But maybe that's because they never gave you a chance to see they had lives outside of it—or of you.
Taesan is popular. All three of you are, in your own capacities. But seeing him affected by something that's not you or Leehan…does something to you. A weird bitter feeling on your tongue that isn't alcohol.
Ugh. Why can't you just go back to thinking about tennis? It's better than whatever the fuck this complicated mess was.
“Save him. Yes,” you manage with as less words as possible, but Leehan reads between the lines quick enough.
He loops him arm through yours and makes his way down to where Taesan is desperately trying to excuse himself away with no luck.
“Hello, there!” Leehan greets the strange flirty man with a wiggle of his fingers, flashing his dimpled smile at him. You just watch the scene with interest until your eyes eventually stray to a surprised Taesan’s. But Leehan continues, coy, but also sweetly condescending, “I’m sorry, but can we steal away our Taesanie for a bit? There's something we need to give him.”
He says it with so much conviction that the man immediately backs off, and Taesan’s arm doesn't wait to move to grip Leehan's other side, the three of you maneuvering through the crowd speedily under his control.
There's a decent amount of alcohol swimming between the three of you—Leehan giggling more nonsensically than usual, Taesan wincing at the taste inside his mouth, and a strangely easy smile threatening to creep up near the corner of your lips—all giddy and warm all the way up to their hotel room, never once not touching.
“Keys,” Taesan orders, and it takes Leehan several tries before he finds the card in his suit’s pocket. You kick off your heels the second the door swings open, collapsing onto the bed and feeling the other two do the same on either side of you, peeling off their suit jacket and vests, loosening their ties.
“Ah! This is heaven!” you proclaim funnily, the ceiling looking wonky in your vision.
Taesan still finds a way to debate you in the middle of his drunken state—“I thought tennis was heaven.”
“Two things can be heaven,” Leehan adds with a grin, stretching so that his fingertips touch yours. “Like the two of you. You're both like heaven.”
“You're cheesier when you're drunk,” you scoff, but you're also smiling at his antics.
“M’not,” he protests but the way he scoots closer to you tells a different story. But he's turning around to look at you properly, leaning on his elbows and looking over you with his pretty lashes and his sunny hair falling around his face. “You're nicer when you're not killing yourself over winning,” he whispers.
“I think you're great when you're being an asshole to us,” Taesan chuckles, bumping his head lightly against yours like a cat would. “But yeah—chill you is also…nice.”
There's something about this, the familiarity, the way the three of you know exactly what to say and when to say it, predicting everything that comes after with pinpoint accuracy. Leehan will continue to pinch your cheek, then offer his own up to be pinched, Taesan will huff about it until he gets his pinched too, and then he'll secretly grin about it thinking neither of you notice that he likes it. Then you'll collapse into a bundle, wrapped up in each other until the sun is up and you have to return back to tennis.
Except.
Except, tonight Leehan breaks the innocent tradition by opening his mouth to utter, “Hey—” His eyes shine brightly from where they look down at you, his other hand playing with a loose strand of Taesan's hair from where his head lays touching yours. “—can I try something new?”
He says it so tenderly, like it's something fragile. You nod.
“Can I kiss you?”
If you're surprised, then your second nod doesn't show it. But maybe Taesan’s slightly dilating pupils do it for you as Leehan brings his mouth down to slot against yours, warm and plush, a press that steals the air right out of your lungs. You taste him everywhere in your mouth, sweeter than any cocktail from before.
When he breaks the kiss and leans up, he's smiling. Then his eyes catch Taesan's clueless ones.
“Jealous?” Leehan wiggles his brows, but before the other boy can process the question, let alone come up with a refutal, the blond adds, “you don't have to be. I’ll make it even.”
A tiny gasp-whine slips out of Taesan’s mouth when Leehan dives into his second kiss, catching the other man's bottom lip between the ridges of his teeth, sharp enough to elicit something pleasant.
Taesan reciprocates in no time, almost like the subconscious part of him had been waiting for this moment all along, moving with a rhythm that only comes with knowing each other in and out in all senses.
Leehan pushes him up to sit so they can kiss properly, but he cuts the act short to coax you to do the same, pulling you close enough that you're pressed up against each other now, your face so close to Taesan’s.
And it's desperate and stupid and tempting, when his eyes meet yours. And his hands find your waist. When you're gripping his tie and you're pulling, melting into his open mouth. Leehan's giggle is a distant melody, although his hands on your backs are grounding.
You're friends, the sensible side of your brain tells you. The other one restates—you love each other. There is no one else but them, never was and never will. You're best friends. You love them, they love you. And suddenly, it's the most sensible thing in the world.
Leehan is greedy with it: he’ll watch his best friends make out for each other with a devious glint behind his eyes, then he’ll demand he be pleased as well, coaxing both mouths into his own with the same self-assurance you've seen from him during his matches.
He may be cocky—but god, can he kiss.
It's a mess of Chapstick and undone buttons and hands in hair, not knowing which mouth is whose by the time you've lost yourself in the feeling of it all.
And maybe it's okay for one night. One night when you don't have to think at all, just let yourself feel everything you don't let yourself. The fucking bitterness of the fact that you'll never play on a court again and face a real opponent, the solace you find in the two of them—how they'd try to bring you the moon if you asked, how the only way to your dream now is through them. You love them. And more than that, you need them. They need you, too.
Without one of you, the other two might as well be nothing. You need their company, and their skills, and their loyalty. You need them in order to forget how much you've lost to this game, and for you to remember that you're loved.
The kisses keep coming, shallow, needy breaths that mingle into one in the space between. The three of you are flushed from head to toe, sweaty from the heat of bodies and from the party that had come before.
It's a lovely kind of mess.
But you'll just have to deal with the consequences another day—when you're less drunk, and you can pour all the passion into a game of tennis instead.
a/n: the only reason i haven't expanded on their feelings and the sports aspect in more depth is due to lack of time. its super hard to condense character motivations into just 3k, especially when there's 3 of them involved... but i hope u were able to get a glimpse into their brains. for those interested, i rec watching challengers (2024) with my whole heart bcs its such a spectacular movie with interesting characters that are complex and 3 dimensional hehe. thank you for reading!!!
In which you're hopelessly smitten with your sleepy boyfriend.
MAINS. boyfriend!Leehan & female reader
TROPES. established relationship, domestic fluff, slice of life
WARNINGS. birthname used, skinship
WORDS. 0.6k
NOTES. small surprise for the lovely maya @mirouie ♡
inspired by this and leehan's post-hairwash look in this
You look up from your book at the sound of padding footsteps and smile fondly at the sight of your approaching boyfriend.
Donghyun looks particularly soft in his cozy set of pajamas, with bare face and wet hair. He has washed off the smell of grilled meat and sweat from the day, and now he smells like your shampoo, all sweet and lovely. It’s one of your favourite versions of him: unguarded and yours.
He’s currently leaving a trail of water droplets on the floor behind him while towel drying his hair. Another day, you might have scolded him for making a slippery mess, but it’s late and you can see how he’s dragging his feet and slouching his shoulders. He must have had a long day.
“Tired?” You ask just to fill the void and put the book from your lap away.
Donghyun hums quietly with a little pout and it makes you want to wrap him in a blanket.
“Come here,” you pat the edge of the bed and Donghyun doesn’t even question you. He obediently lowers himself onto your pastel colored bedcover and watches with attentive eyes as you get up like a girl on a mission.
You cross the room in a few steps to get haircare essentials from your vanity and dump them all on the bed beside him. Then you smoothly nudge his knees apart with yours to be able to stand close enough to comfortably take the towel from his neck and gently soak up the rest of the dripping water from his locks. Once you’re satisfied with his hair’s reduced dampness level, you reach for the heat protectant mist and make sure to cover the boy’s eyes as you spray it over his head. Only when you pull your hand away do you notice that Donghyun’s big, sparkling eyes are trained on you. Like he never even looked away.
“Stop staring,” you chide him, actively fighting the heat creeping up on your cheeks.
“Can’t,” your boyfriend says simply, terribly determined yet blinking innocently.
You’re weaponless against him when he’s like this, so you give up on arguing and plug in the hairdryer instead. You set it to a low setting and rake your fingers through Donghyun’s locks under the warm airflow. His hair has gotten quite long lately and playing with it has become one of your favourite things to do. He especially likes it when you scratch his scalp and stroke his hair while his head is in your lap during movie nights.
You move along with the blow drying methodically from one section to another, making sure to not accidentally pull on any tangled hair. By the time you’re done, Donghyun has his eyes closed and breathes so quietly you momentarily think he has fallen asleep. His eyelashes cast shadows onto his cheeks and they flutter when he blearily opens his eyes and looks up at you like you’re an angel haloed by the dimmed light of the overhead lamp.
Finally, you apply argan oil on his hair ends and brush his fringe back, securing the side bangs with two hair clips to keep them out of his face.
He’s the prettiest boy ever, you think with a dreamy sigh as you brush a thumb across his cheek.
“All done,” you tell him and smile down at him when he presses his face against your stomach, mumbling a thank you into your cotton sleepwear. He seems reluctant to detach from you, so you keep stroking his warm, freshly washed hair.
“I love you,” Donghyun whispers sleepily and your heart overflows with affection, the kind that wants to spoil him rotten.
Your mouth curls into a soft smile.
“I love you, too.”
END NOTES. title from so let's go see the stars and header pic is from the home concept photos
