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Yoga
title: yoga
length: drabble ; 508
genre: fluff
rating: pg-13 (??)
summary: Chanyeol gets dragged to yoga by Yura.
a/n: i call dibs on writing this to a full fic later lol
“Chanyeol, let’s go.”
“I really don’t want to fucking do this—”
“Chanyeol, get your ass in the car, we’re going to be late!”
“Yura!”
“Get in this car or I’m telling mom you failed your college midterms. Get in. Now.”
-
-
Yoga.
Chanyeol hates yoga. He likes the hot people and the ass. He just hates yoga. Not that he’s ever tried it before, but he had a feeling he wouldn’t like it on the way there.
The class is weird. Yoga’s weird. He hates yoga. Why is the instructor a tiny, brown-haired male? Isn’t it always a woman teaching the class?
Chanyeol wants to question it. He scrutinizes the man up front who probably thinks he’s being cute and funny, but Chanyeol can see through all that fakeness. This is a scam, he thinks. This man’s just in it for the breasts.
He’s wrong.
The brunette is flexible and Chanyeol finds that he’s not really that flexible. Yura’s satisfied with proving her point that her brother needed help with his flexibility, but Chanyeol isn’t going to let her know that he can’t do most of the poses for fear that the tent in his shorts would stick out (like a pun).
It’s a natural reaction! That’s what he mutters to himself. What else can he do when that cheeky brunette was also cheeky in the ass department? Nothing. Except get hormonal.
Chanyeol’s favorite pose is the turtle pose. He can hide his face and fantasize about plowing the instructor’s defined ass. He can think about using scissors to cut a hole in the instructor’s yoga pants right where the small male’s little (bleep) would be and doing nasty things to it using his long (bleep).
The worst pose is the one where it’s not even a pose. They lie on the floor and breathe. Chanyeol knows he can’t breathe. He has to put a hand on his tent to cover himself. He hates it. He hates yoga.
But he likes the instructor. A lot.
-
-
“How was it?”
“Meh.” Chanyeol looks out the car window. He’s disappointed. Suddenly, as his sister is blabbing away about the class and fitness while backing the car out from the parking lot, Chanyeol sees the spunky little brunette come out of the studio with his duffle bag slung over his shoulder. Then, in those tight black yoga pants, he gets on a pink scooter, starts the motor vehicle, and drives off.
The giant’s attention is back to his sister again, who asks him, “Do you think you want to come again?”
“Yes,” Chanyeol says quickly. He realizes he said it too quickly, too eager, so he clears his throat. “Uh, not like I have anything else to do.”
“Whatever,” Yura snorts.
-
-
While they’re driving back home, Chanyeol gets the courage to ask, “So, the instructor. Who was—”
But Yura cuts him off short with a smile on her face. “His name’s Byun Baekhyun. He’s twenty-three. He’s single. And he likes them tall.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah. Oh.”
length: drabble ; 508
genre: fluff
rating: pg-13 (??)
summary: Chanyeol gets dragged to yoga by Yura.
a/n: i call dibs on writing this to a full fic later lol
“Chanyeol, let’s go.”
“I really don’t want to fucking do this—”
“Chanyeol, get your ass in the car, we’re going to be late!”
“Yura!”
“Get in this car or I’m telling mom you failed your college midterms. Get in. Now.”
-
-
Yoga.
Chanyeol hates yoga. He likes the hot people and the ass. He just hates yoga. Not that he’s ever tried it before, but he had a feeling he wouldn’t like it on the way there.
The class is weird. Yoga’s weird. He hates yoga. Why is the instructor a tiny, brown-haired male? Isn’t it always a woman teaching the class?
Chanyeol wants to question it. He scrutinizes the man up front who probably thinks he’s being cute and funny, but Chanyeol can see through all that fakeness. This is a scam, he thinks. This man’s just in it for the breasts.
He’s wrong.
The brunette is flexible and Chanyeol finds that he’s not really that flexible. Yura’s satisfied with proving her point that her brother needed help with his flexibility, but Chanyeol isn’t going to let her know that he can’t do most of the poses for fear that the tent in his shorts would stick out (like a pun).
It’s a natural reaction! That’s what he mutters to himself. What else can he do when that cheeky brunette was also cheeky in the ass department? Nothing. Except get hormonal.
Chanyeol’s favorite pose is the turtle pose. He can hide his face and fantasize about plowing the instructor’s defined ass. He can think about using scissors to cut a hole in the instructor’s yoga pants right where the small male’s little (bleep) would be and doing nasty things to it using his long (bleep).
The worst pose is the one where it’s not even a pose. They lie on the floor and breathe. Chanyeol knows he can’t breathe. He has to put a hand on his tent to cover himself. He hates it. He hates yoga.
But he likes the instructor. A lot.
-
-
“How was it?”
“Meh.” Chanyeol looks out the car window. He’s disappointed. Suddenly, as his sister is blabbing away about the class and fitness while backing the car out from the parking lot, Chanyeol sees the spunky little brunette come out of the studio with his duffle bag slung over his shoulder. Then, in those tight black yoga pants, he gets on a pink scooter, starts the motor vehicle, and drives off.
The giant’s attention is back to his sister again, who asks him, “Do you think you want to come again?”
“Yes,” Chanyeol says quickly. He realizes he said it too quickly, too eager, so he clears his throat. “Uh, not like I have anything else to do.”
“Whatever,” Yura snorts.
-
-
While they’re driving back home, Chanyeol gets the courage to ask, “So, the instructor. Who was—”
But Yura cuts him off short with a smile on her face. “His name’s Byun Baekhyun. He’s twenty-three. He’s single. And he likes them tall.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah. Oh.”
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OMFG babe, really looking forward to reading the lengthy version of this!!
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