Elevatorcrush!Yunho x reader

You had a confession to make. You took the elevator in your apartment complex every chance you could get. Not for any medical or physical needs, not because you were too lazy to take the stairs, not because your bag is heavy, no. None of that. It’s all because of him.

The first few times you saw he didn’t really register in your brain. You only took in his towering height and slender form before focusing on whatever else was on your mind again. Probably because the first few times you really were always too tired to climb the seven flights to your floor.

You’ve taken notice of him again and again since then though. He looked to be a few years, three or four at most, older than you, and judging by the briefcase you thought he worked in some higher profession. The business casual style also doesnt stop your fantasizing, quite the opposite actually. You wont lie, you’ve imagined once or twice what he works as; a doctor? A lawyer? Dare you imagine, a professor? The thought alone makes your head swirl, so you’re quick to dismiss it every time.

Since you started paying more attention to the people (person) on the elevator with you, you may or may not have started to synch up your routines with a certain man your eyes find time and time again. You didnt know much about him, other than that he always got on and off the fourth floor, and the times he came and went.

It started with a simple coincidence. You left a few minutes earlier than usual because you had a project at Uni that required a lot of materials, prompting you to take the elevator for convenience. Lo and behold, there he was again, stepping into the elevator as it made a stop on the fourth floor. You nodded at one another, and he sent you a small, seemingly sympathetic smile as he eyed all the materials you were carrying. Since then you knew that he left for work at 7:15 sharp, and since then you’ve subconsciously started your morning 15 minutes earlier too, to match schedules, but he didnt have to know that.

In terms of the time of return, you didnt have to change much (not that you were changing anything in the first place, you told yourself). You simply had to get home a tad bit faster, and then take the elevator. There, you and him would shuffle into the small space and share a moment of silence before he would step off, leaving you to ascend further on your own.

Today was a day like most other, you made it though all your classes managed to hand in the work that was looming over your head, and your timing was right on the money to see a certain someone. You might be a little very exited to see him, you admit, but you allowed yourself the unsolicited giddiness that spread through your body at the thought of him.

Youre glad you were wearing a bit of a nicer outfit that day, because by some high heavens grace, something in his appearance had changed. You felt stalker-ish for noticing the change, but you couldn’t stop yourself from gushing over it. His forehead. Where normally the black bangs would lie against his skin, kissing his eyebrows, his hair was pushed back for a change.

Your reaction was very normal. Yes, you were feeling extremely normal about this change. Nothing like a man from the middle-ages seeing ankles for the first time, no, nothing like that at all.

You stood a little stiff in the elevator next to him, heels pressed against one another to keep you grounded as you practically buzzed where you stood. Oh my gosh girl get a grip! You wanted to curse yourself, but before any of the self deprivation could really start, the silence in the elevator broke.

He cleared his throat, hand coming up to shield his mouth as he coughed into his fist. Your head whipped over to his and you could see him glancing at you from the corner of his eyes. Never in a million years would you have expected to hear a noise from him, but you would have to thank the heavens later for the cold-seasons. You were content now, happy to have heard his voice.

He really threw you for a loop when he spoke again however, leaning down to match your height, probably make you a little more comfortable. „This might be a little out of nowhere, and i hope i dont sounds really weird and creepy but your perfume is really nice.“ his voice was low, as not to disturb the silence in the apartment complex.

Before you have time to soak in his words, even less to think of a response, the elevator has already reached the fourth floor. He‘s swift in his exit, leaving you reaching out for him dumbly, scrambling to think up some words. No success, so you just watch his leaving form with an open mouth.

Once his words sink in though, your face starts warming, your stomach spinning and your knees becoming embarrassingly weak. „Thanks…“ you say to no one in particular as the doors open again: on the seventh floor this time. You float to your apartment, unlocking the door with a wide smile on your face. What was the chance of something like this happening? Slim to none at all, you think as your smile widens again (if that’s even possible).

Was this the start of something? Only time could tell… well, ten hours and nineteen minutes, but you weren’t counting…

Hate you! Love you! (Part 2)

„I dont know what to do anymore..!“ San’s got his head in his hands, huffing loudly as he finally finishes his rant.

„Wasn‘t this what you wanted though? You were always complaining that they didnt get along, and now that they are you’re getting second thoughts?“ Jongho is the first to break the silence that falls over the room. As per usual, he was a little loose lipped, not afraid to speak what the rest were so obvsiously thinking.

Once a month or so, San would meet up with his former roommates, just for old times sake. During these little lunches the four of them would share what each of them had been up to lately, making up for the lost time. This also included all the updates about you and Wooyoung, the very reason that San no longer shared the apartment with them. Jongho, Seonghwa and Hongjoong were actually the reason that San ever met you and Wooyoung.

He got to know Wooyoung first, curtesy of Jongho when they had a project to work on together. Wooyoung would come over to work with Jongho in their apartment, and glances and little greetings soon blossomed into more: an offer to go gyming together, then an offer to grab coffee, then an offer to teach baking, and so on. This slow and steady approach really lead to two together naturally, growing strong together through blushy smiles and teetering glances.

You however, were a bad decision dropped right into his lap. He had heard your name from Seonghwa and Hongjoong, as they mentioned you in passing conversation every so often. He finally got to put a face to the name in one fateful night though. It was a party hosted for Seonghwa’s birthday, and of course you were invited. You, pretty little young thing, showing up at the birthday party with your tiny shirt and even tinier skirt, cheering for Seonghwa with a bottle of Tequila and a very expensive gift. Oh, you were trouble, alright?

There was nothing slow or steady about how you and San got involved one anther. No, your relationship moved at a breakneck pace, flustering him so hard and fast it gave him whiplash. You pulled him in quicker than he could fathom, having him wrapped around your lithe little fingers the moment you first spoke to him, inviting him on the balcony to share a Malbro red. You and San were fire and flame, ferociously bouncing off another with thick tension and high energy.

The contrast between the double-life he lead in terms of dating was polarizing. He was nervous to introduce the two of you to say the least. He knew that realistically there was no good way to do this, and that of course both of you would be displeased with the whole „side-piece double timing“ thing, but eventually San had to bite the bullet.

He had it planned… sorta.

He invited Wooyoung over early the day prior, taking him out to brunch, then shopping and dinner. He hoped that it would help ease the waters, make Wooyoung a little more open. Those efforts were for nought though when the two of them came back into the shared Appartement.

The two of them, Hongjoong and Seonghwa that is, had invited you over on a whim to pregame a little for a function that night. Not ideal, not ideal at all. San hadn‘t planned for you two to meet until tomorrow, when you were supposed to drop off one of the many hoodies you had conveniently „borrowed“ from San. No, this isnt at all how he had imagined this going.

Not a word had been exchanged between you and Wooyoung, yet the both of you had San figured out immediately. Hongjoong and Seonghwa, well aware of the complicated situation they had caused were quick to flee, heading out early, mumbling an excuse about „helping to set up“. Setting up my ass San thought, more than a little frustrated with the untimely manner of this meeting.

The tension between Wooyoung and you was palpable. You both had boisterous and individual perssonalities, egos big enough to kill a man, and most importantly (dangerously) a vicious sense of pride. It was only a matter of time, only a question of who would break the seal placed upon this moment. Then you would be neck and neck.

It was you who broke the silence, of course it was. „So you’re the side-piece? Didn’t know San went that way…“ your voice was too sharp, your tongue lined with silver as you snarked at Wooyoung, your head tilting to the side with passive, masked aggression.

From that moment onwards, it was nothing but poison and daggers flying hitherho between you two. San didnt know what to do, he was more than lost. Helplessly he had looked between you two, wincing at the harsh insults being carelessly thrown around.

In retrospect San should have known better than to jump in the middle of a cat-fight, especially because he was the very topic at hand. But he didnt know at the time that it was more than stupid, so he raised his voice to catch you attention and spoke: „Listen! I know this is-„

He didnt even get to finish his sentence before there was a rare moment of union between Wooyoung and you when both of you snapped „Shut up!“.

A moment of silence fell over the dorm again, and Wooyoung and your eyes met, wide with bewilderment. The moment was short (but sweet, San thought) before you and Wooyoung both turnt up your noses, brushing past another as you stormed out the door to follow Seonghwa and Hongjoong whilst Wooyoung stomped into the kitchen.

From then on it was always one of two situations when you and Wooyoung met: a clash filled with hateful words and hurt feelings, or dead, uncomfortable silence. No in-between, no hope of improvements.

Pulling himself out of the memory, and the following months, San looks at the deadpan faces of his former roommate. „You said you’d do anything for them to get along…“ San would like to agree with Jongho, but he just shakes his head ferociously. Seonghwa and Hongjoong share a look as they try to assess the situation appropriately.

„What changed, then?“ Seonghwa‘s voice is careful, trying his best to figure out a possible red string to connect all the pieces San had been laying out, „What’s bad about them getting along?“

„Well I mean yes it’s wonderful that they get along, sure! But-„ San stops himself, biting his tongue as he considers whether or not to say it out loud. „Oh what now San? You really cant hit us with the TMI, we know too much about you already, there’s no shred of dignity left for you to destroy anyway.“ Hongjoong speaks up, finally calling for some literal clarity.

„But not when they’re at it like Rabbits!“ San hisses, slightly embarrassed as he feels his face warm dangerously. Hongjoong and Jongho burst out laughing and Seonghwa covers his face to hide the way that his jaw dropped. „Oh my god San!“

San groans, hands falling into his face as he leans back in the chair. „Im so fucked you guys have no idea!“ Jongho, the little shit, only laughs louder, „I thought the problem is that you aren’t!“

Professor!Yunho’s fuckle-upple [professor!Yunho x brat!Reader]

“You, miss are in real trouble when I get word out about what happened yesterday.” He seemed to be seething, chest rising and falling quickly with his breath as he ran a frustrated hand through his hair.

Business and pleasure don’t mix, especially not to Professors. He knows better, he should at least. Normally, Yunho doesn’t have any trouble separating the two worlds from one another, but for some reason this time it just happened. It’s not some minor mishap either, not a spilled secret to a student or an entanglement with a coworker, no this was a real A-class fuck up.

“Oh…” you groaned from where you were laying on his couch. You rub your hand over your forehead, trying to force the sleepiness away as you reach for your phone, unlocking it swiftly.

“Is that so professor?” His eyes narrow at your tone of voice, it’s too calm, too relaxed and almost a little teasing. You should be freaking out considering yesterdays events, but he reasons with himself that you have yet to remember them.

“For damn sure, you’re lucky I even let you stay the night, lucky that I’m not the type to throw girls out on the street!” You tap around on your phone for a few silent seconds, nodding your head at nothing in particular until a devious smile crosses your face.

“Is that so Professor? I’m in trouble?” Your voice has that same lilt to it as it did last night, and he feels that same tingle up his spine. He wants to curse himself for recognizing, almost embracing the sensation for a second before he snaps out of it. “Damn right you are.” His voice is strong and clear, but it doesn’t manage to phase you.

“Interesting professor, considering that you did a line from between my tits yesterday, which you asked me to record, by the way.” You flash your phone screen at him, displaying the very events you were describing.

He feels the ground crumble beneath his feet as he realizes that you have the upper hand. His eyes stay transfixed on your phone screen, in which he regrettably, can clearly recognize his face. He holds his head, memories of yesterday swarming back to him as if you summoned them.

“Fuck.” He Mutters underneath his breath, and you cackle when you hear it. “Damn right!” You mirror him, flopping back onto the couch as you check your phone again, comfortable and content in his home. “I own you now, professor.”

Night Air - bartender!San x reader

It hasn’t been long since you started, maybe two months, but you and him have already fallen into perfect tandem with one another. Given your previous expertise, having worked in the Gastronomy long since you started at “Halazia”, you were a very welcome and reliable workforce.

You had managed the place wonderfully, despite not being in a very high position of power in terms of the chain of command. That didn’t seem to matter though, as you coworkers all learned to navigate your natural charisma and strong personality, gratefully accepting your commanding persona. You could handle loud and rowdy customers, drunk, overdone men and whiny ladies alike, and were quick to alert the security should you notice tensions arising. You knew the regulars by now, and bartered with them, playing off the groups’ energies. To put it shortly- you were loved by Staff and Patrons alike.

What came to a surprise to everyone though, was how well you and San clicked. San, to put it lightly, wasn’t very personable or social. He was professional though, he did his job and damn did he do it well. With a degree in mixology and good years of bartending experience he made the best bartender the city had to offer.

It was another typical night, business was moderate enough to take the promised break, and San found himself grateful for it as he folds the cuffed sleeves of his dress shirt up. He glanced around, which quickly found your eyes, watching as you returned to the counter, ready to deliver the last drink he made to a private booth.

It was wordless communication between you two as you and him made eye contact. You turned on your heels, making your way to the drink’s destination with a charming smile on your face. In the mean time, San was fast to start one espresso, grabbing a packet of sugar and unceremoniously dumping it in before dishing it and starting a second one.

By the time you returned to the counter and made your way behind it, the second espresso was done as well. You passed behind him, hand ghosting over his shoulders as a quiet thanks as you make your way to the back door, heading for the terrace area.

Dutifully San followed with the espressos, his feet carrying him to your regular spot. You were leaned against a low window sill- half sitting on it, fingers making quick work of the pack in front of you.

San sighed inwardly as he remembers not even a week ago when he talked to his mother last, promising he would quit smoking, but he couldn’t find it in himself to feel ashamed. It’s only half bad, he reasoned as he watched you roll one cigarette with expert speed and tuck it behind your ear, immediately starting a second one.

Every shift you shared (which were plenty), the two of you had this ritual and San wouldn’t give it up for the world. San set down the unsweetened espresso on front of you (he didn’t understand how the hell you drank it black, he tried to once and almost died), taking a sip of his own cup.

You hummed in contentment as you saw the cup appear in front of you, and you passed the finished cigarette to him, fishing a lighter from your back pocket. Taking your own cigarette from behind your ear you clicked the lighter once, twice before a flame erupted from the device.

You took a long drag, the tabacco crackling quietly as it burned, and you passed the lighter to San with your eyes shut, focusing on the comforting silence between you two. He accepted it and watched as you exhaled, smoke billowing in front of you. He lit his own; smooth nicotine filling his chest where he held it for a second before blowing it back out of his nose.

He ashes off glowing embers with a flick of his thumb and watches you pick up the espresso with the same hand that held the cigarette. You sip it calmly, miraculously not burning yourself whilst doing so, probably thanks to many many times you have done it.

He’s impressed every time you do it, he tried it once when you weren’t there and he wasn’t successful.. at all. He burned himself when the coffee spilled, and almost blinded himself in one eye when the lit end of the cigarette got a little too close to his face. He won’t mention it to you though, so he settles on watching some loose strands of hair fall across your face.

The low, yellow light outside the terrace makes your hair shine magically, but San fears that his stomach might flip, but he figures that it’s just the fact he hasn’t eaten in way too long. He forces his eyes away from you, looking towards the surprisingly clear sky, afraid of being caught staring once you open your eyes again.

There’s no need to speak, there never is when you two are on break, but for some reason San can sense something in the air between you two is different tonight. He’s not the best at reading the room, that’s more your forte, so he’s a little nervous the moment he picks up on it.

You must have noticed it too though, because your face is suddenly turned towards him, eyes half lidded as you blow another cloud of smoke from between your lips, setting down your empty cup of espresso. There’s a lazy smile on your face, and San curses himself for looking over, because this time he thinks that his heart might really stop in his chest this time. He waits expectantly for you to say something, anything, he can tell there’s something on the tip of your tongue.

But you don’t say anything at all, instead you just rub the ball of your palm over your eyebrow and sigh, ashing off your cig and tipping your head to rest on your shoulder.

“I’m so tired San.” You finally whisper into the cold night air.

The statement should be simple, evidenced by the hours you two work, but something tells San that there’s more to it.

It hurts in his chest, the way your voice sounds so fragile, and in a moment of unexpected confidence San scoots closer to you on the ledge, wrapping a strong arm around your shoulders, allowing your head to nestle into his chest. You sigh and pull at the cigarette again before throwing it on the ground, not even bothering to snuff it out as you stay laying on his chest.

“I know.” He says after a beat of silence passes between you two, stubbing out his own cigarette next to him on the ledge and throwing it into his empty espresso cup.

He rests his head upon yours and breathes in your scent, thankful for this little moment of perfect calm. He decides not to think of having to return to the bustling bar in a few minutes, or of the exhausting trip home, or coming home. Neither does he think of the way that his fridge is empty at home, deciding not to pay any mind to the lack of dinner he has. He doesn’t find the energy to care about it though. No, he decides, this doesn’t bother him right now. Not when he’s here, with you wrapped so nicely in his arm, not saying a word, simply existing with one another.

Imagine: Gymcrush!San x pilatesgirlie!reader

It’s not your fault that he‘s somehow always there when you do your sessions, even less so that your eyes keep finding him and his tiny waist. Him and his thick arms, him and his muscular chest, him and thunderous thighs. Not your fault that he wears those skin-tight tops, paired with the iconic grey sweats, or on days where you thank the lord, workout shorts. No, not your fault at all when he looks like sex on a stick after running cardio on the treadmill, even more so when deadlifting, a belt cinching his waist in deliciously.

So, after a particularly successful gyming session for you (you had completed a new Pilates routine with increased weights, and held your yoga stretches for a whole 20 seconds longer than usual, and even the 15-minute warm up run seemed easier than usual), you finally manage to walk up to him.

You’re regretting it the moment you start walking towards him, only now noticing that he isn’t here alone fuck fuck fuck what do you mean he’s got his bros here?!. You almost make a 180 to turn to leave, but decide to kick yourself in the ass you’re going to die anyway, why not take the chance?. Your Yolo attitude carried your feet across the gym hall, and by some miracle the two guys standing with San start drifting towards a machine, probably to start the next set.

Taking deep breaths you try to hype yourself up, you look down at your clean shoes and revise what you’re going to say. Once your confidence if built up enough (and your short trek across the gym is complete), you muster up the courage to speak to him, lightly tapping his shoulder to call his attention.

He pulls the headphones off his head completely, and turns to look you in the eyes. His eyebrows raise slightly once he takes in your appearance, and you can feel your face heating up at the way his eyes scan your figure. He remains silent but nods his head to you once his gaze returns to your face, bidding you to say your piece.

You collect your scrambled thoughts and practically squeak out the semi-confession „Hi, sorry to disrupt you but I find you really admirable, I hope this doesn’t come out of the nowhere but could I have your number?“ Your eyes are hopeful, and by now you’re sure that a blush has crept its way onto your face- you can feel it down your neck.

You‘re fidgeting with your phone a little, watching his eyes widen and his mouth drop open a little, tongue coming out to dart at his lips before he speaks. „Yeah, sure. No problem.“ His voice is gravely but kind, and you can feel your heartbeat pick up at the success you’ve garnered from the interaction. A little too giddily you open your phone contacts and select a new contact.

Holding out your phone for him to take, you’re caught off guard by his grumbling voice again. „You do Pilates, right?“ your breath halts for a second. Never in your life had you considered it a reality where he would perceive your existence, too. It really didnt occur to you that just as much as you watch him, he could be observing you as well.

„Uh- yeah, yeah i do Pilates. Im usually in the open space though.“ you reply once you found your voice again. He nods thoughtfully in response, „yeah, thats right.. Ive seen you do your routines once or twice. Impressive as hell, i couldn’t do that stuff to save my life.“ a small smile tugs at the corner of his lips as he finishes typing on your phone, passing it back to you and looking into your eyes again.

You bite back a smile and look down at your phone to avoid his eyes, shy from the compliment. „Oh, thanks…“ you hear him chuckle. „Hey, lemme get your number too, ill reach out first since you beat me to taking the first step.“ your eyes flick up to meet his again, wide in surprise. „Huh?“ you look down to his hands where he holds out his phone on front of him, eyes expectant and warm.

He sighs and gestures for you to take the phone, which you do almost reflexively as he explains: „Well, you’re braver than me for approaching first, I’ve been noticing you for a while now, never had the confidence to go up to you though. I was worried I’d scare you away.“ You look at him in disbelief, your mind racing with thoughts as your gaze shifts to the heavy phone in your hand.

„Oh…“ your voice is quiet as you numbly type in your number, filling the contact as your name. A smile that mirrors his crosses your face when you look back at him, and you both end up giggling as you stare at another in silence, smiling like teens.

Once you’ve calmed down you avert your gaze again and shrug. „So… see you around??“ he nods almost immediately, arms flexing as he reaches up for his headphones again. „Yes! I mean- yeah sure.“ he corrects his overzealous tone and coolly coughs to cover it up, cringing a little at himself, and you laugh a little. „Okay, bye then!“ you send him a little wave and turn around to collect your things and head to the changing rooms to leave, a little pep in your step.

Glancing into the contacts of your phone you notice that not only did San leave you with his number, but he added a note into the contact itself: „Meet me tomorrow in/after gym, same time as today? Maybe i can spot you, and maybe you can help me stretch? And maybe we can grab some food afterwards???“ you almost die right then and there, head floating in the coulds as your cheeks hurt from how hard you’re smiling.

What you dont see though, is the way his friends rush over to him once you’ve left, bombarding him with a million questions and clapping him on the back in congratulations. „Wow! Sannie!!! The cute little Pilates chick? Fuckin‘ score man!“ Mingi claps his hands in approval, nodding hard as he watches your form leave the gym. „Who knew that San had this kinda game, damn good on you.“ Wooyoung still has his hands on San‘s shoulders, rubbing them up and down roughly.

San doesnt say anything, just standing there, soaking in the moment, chest warm and stomach fuzzy as he thinks back to your interaction. From one moment to the next however, his face falls. „Fuck.“ he curses, voice flat. Both Mingi and Wooyoung look at San‘s face, and then one another. „What do you mean? You just bagged all that, and you’re worried about anything??“ Wooyoung looks at him incredulously, expression almost comical. San shakes his head with a blank face his eyebrows ever so slightly furrowed. „Where do i take her to eat? And how the hell do i become flexible by tomorrow?!“

Hate you! Love you! [Woosan x reader]

San wasnt quite sure when exactly the shift happened, but he was afraid that if he were to question it out loud, it's effect would be nullified.

Usually, under normal circumstances, You and Wooyoung would be at each other's necks all the time. He couldn’t take both of you out on cute dates becasue all you would do is complain about the other. He couldn't spend more time with one of you in a week, becuase all hell would be rained upon him from the other. Heaven forbids he mentions the other one on a private date, he'd never hear the end of it.

In short, San was sure that his boyfriend and his girlfriend couldn't stand another. It took him a short while after you three first got together (more like you and Wooyoung discovered one another because San was more or less double-booking the two of you), to come to terms with this mutal hatred betwen you two. More often than not he would grieve the lost chances: the dates, the study sessions, (the steamy threesomes). He soon accepted it as a truth, and settled for daydreaming instead.

If you would have told him this morning that he would see you and Wooyoung coexisting without a fight pending, he would have laughed. But here he is regardless of his disbelief. He's standing in the doorway to his bedroom, freshly stripped off his coat and shoes form the outside, cheeks flushed from the cold weather. His mouth is agape and he thinks his eyes are about to pop from their sockets from shock. San has to double take to make sure he's seeing right, because he could swear up and down that his eyes are decieving him. When he blinks, and then again, however, nothing changes - his head spins a little from an overzealous joy.

You're halfway through detangling your hair with your fingers, sitting pretty and fresh on the large bed in San's bedroom. You're muttering something, voice soft to cherish the comfortable silence in the room. San checks you out in less than a second, his eyes habitually trailing your familiar form; legs stretched out in front of you, back resting against the headboard. It takes him a second to realize that the sweater youre wearing isn't yours, but it strikes him as a surprise when he realizes that it isn't one of his either.

Wooyoung's sitting right next to you, backed up against the headboard, hair equally as wet and skin equally as fresh as yours. He seems half-interested in whatever is on his phone as he scrolls mindlessly with one hand. The other hand is resting in your lap, kneading away at your thigh. Wooyoung turns the phone to face you, and you give a small, reassuring nod, which Wooyoung wordlessly confirms with a nod of his own.

San stands still, completely silent, heart melting in his chest as he looks at the two of you. He's impressed neither of you have noticed his shameless staring yet, since especially you seemed to have a seventh sense for things like those. As if you heard his thoughts, you turn your head away from Wooyoung's phone to look at him in stead.

"Hey Bae." you say to him, breaking the quaint silence, which causes Wooyoung to shift his attention as well. "Hi.." San replies, a little breathless and unsure due to the surreality of the situation. "You guys are... okay?" San wants to bite his tongue for the awkward wording, wishing that he could have curbed his curiosity a little longer, just to selfishly enjoy the moment.

Anticipating the two of you to jump apart and start fighting like cats and dogs, San's eyebrows furrow and he almost grimaces as he waits for something, anything to happen.

One, two silent seconds pass in which you and Wooyoung simply stare at him before Wooyoung speaks up, „Yeah, we just got out of the shower. Your showergel is empty by the way."

"Oh okay. Thanks for telling me I’ll get some new... hold on we?" San is on autopilot for the first half of the sentance before his brain even registers all of what Wooyoung said. You get up from where you were sitting, causing Wooyoung's hand to slip off your thigh. Wooyoung 'tsks' at you childishly, throwing a glare at the back of your head as he watches you walk over to where San is standing. Without missing a beat you 'tsk' back at him, coming to a halt in front of San and reaching up on your toes to press a quick kiss to his cheek, "Welcome home Prince." Then you're quick to slip past him, making your way to the kitchen no doubt to brew tea.

San has to double take your figure again, then his questioning gaze lands on Wooyoung, who is already looking at him. "What?" Wooyoung asks with a bored look on his face, phone now neglected next to him. San can't really bring out words so instead he points back and forth between Wooyoung and the doorframe where you left.

"Did yall- are you-- what is happening?" and with that, a look of recognition crosses Wooyoung's face. "Oh that? It's nothing, don't worry about it."

San wants to choke Wooyoung. Badly.

"What the heck do you mean nothing? Also is she wearing your sweater? Don't tell me you guys-" he's about to finish his sentence when he feel his sides being pinched, causing him to flinch and yelp, ducking out of the doorway and into the room to escape the ticklish touch.

You pass San nonchalantly, as if you handn't just given him the fright of his life and then climb onto the bed again, this time on all fours and dropping into a stretch that works your back. This movement (the puppy pose, as San can recall from the one time you tortured him though your Yoga routine), causes the sweater to ride up and bunch at the top of your stomach where it pools around the swell of your very much braless breasts.

You groan as you sink deeper into the stretch, words coming out a little strained, but he could hear the amusement in your voice anyway. "Whatever you’re thinking should probably stay in your head, ponyboy."

Wooyoung chuckles at your scolding as he leans forward a little, reaching for your sweater and pulling it up over your hips. He looks at San again, and the latter doesn't miss the way that Wooyoung's hand rubs circles over your ass softly.

"Come on Babe, I think he of all people have the right to say something here." Wooyoungs voice is too smooth for San's liking as he watches the younger pull your hips over to his side again, throwing an arm around yor shoulder cooly. Your response to Wooyoung's actions is, in San's opinion, uncanny. It was almost too natural- watching you lay your head back into Wooyoungs chest and flick your eyes to him, shrugging. "Fair enough."

"Oh my god." San looks between the two of you with an odd mix of joy and disbelief in his eyes. "You guys totally fucked."

Imagine: Mingi and Horrormovies

Imagine finally convincing !bf Mingi to do a horror movie marathon with you, getting nuzzled up on the couch with him. You’re all decked out: blankets, snacks, Red Bulls, you name it. He’s reluctantly sitting next to you, stiff as a board as you start queuing up the first movie.

“Relax Mingi.” You laugh, noticing the way he can’t seem to come to rest. “Im relaxed.” He replies, a little too quickly. Your shoot him a knowing look, your lips coiling into a smirk. “Are you sure you’re gonna be okay?” Mingi doesn’t say anything, nodding a little too hard as he forces himself to lay back into the couch.

You’re half way through the first movie, and Mingi keeps flinching for all the wrong reasons. Being more into horror than he is, you enjoy making little quips and comments throughout the duration of the movie, voicing thought and opinions. What you didn’t anticipate however was the way he would flinch violently every time you talked.

“I think-“ you can’t even finish your thought as Mingi’s body next to you goes rigid. Hands shooting up and head whipping to face you “OH MY GOSH! Oh my god don’t do that are you crazy?” His voice goes from a shout to a whisper as he slams a hand over his chest, catching his breath. You can’t stop the giggle that escapes you as you look over to where he’s sitting, eyes locked on the screen.

Imagine him asking to switch positions at one point, so that you’re laying on him. He tells you it’s because he wants to hold you, that’s he’s missing your touch, and you think it’s cute so you don’t give it a second thought. You happily lay down on his chest, hugging his stomach as your legs nestle with his, focusing back on the movie.

When however you can feel him conveniently shift whenever there’s a tense or scary scene, you look up to face him, catching him entirely red handed as he turns his head away from the movie playing, eyes squeezed shut.

“Oh my lord Mingi. Did you really ask to move so that you could look away when you’re scared?” You gape at him in disbelief, a wide, teasing smile on your face. “No!!” He stressed, eyes wide open now as he looks down at you on his chest. “That’s not what I was doing…” you say nothing, deciding to spare him the teasing as you nod and lay your head back down, patting his chest reassuringly. “Don’t worry babe, I’ve got you.”

Anyway, you love him for doing this with you despite how much he hates horror, even if you had to listen to his never ending whining when you called it a night, practically begging to keep the light on.