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andawaywego · 3 years

Note

Your fics are my favorite! Could you write one where some guy hitting on Dani too aggressively and won’t leave so Jamie has to step in? Maybe punches him, Dani takes care of her hand after and has a lot of feelings

okay! so i also got a more recent prompt for someone asking for Jamie to defend Dani, so this is for both of you guys. i hope you like it!

(check it out in my prompt collection for a bonus ending written by my hilarious bud, Julia)

Growing up, the storybooks always made Dani think that heroes come in suits of armor. Broad-shouldered, tall, handsome strangers who wait for you at the bottom of the tower asking you to let down your hair, give them your heart, just let them save you and they’ll love you forever, promise. And there was something about that she never wanted—she’s never seen herself in that throne room or glass coffin or anywhere else where a princess might need saving.

Because, no. She doesn’t need any saving that she can’t provide for herself. And she knows that. Really, she does.

But then again, she’s never had anyone knock a guy on his ass for her. At least, not until—

_____________________

Rewind.

The last night of Owen’s visit, they go to a bar in Burlington for drinks. It’s not a place they frequent, no, but it’s nearby and always seems busy. Certainly that can’t mean it’s unliked.

And it is nice enough. Clean booths, even if the benches are cracked vinyl, nice enough waitresses, good lighting and, importantly, not too loud. It’s a Friday, so it is fairly packed and it’s late, too, what with them having decided to come last minute after letting Owen cook them one more meal (“You’ll have plenty of leftovers,” he’d said, “so you won’t have to do take-out for a bit”; always trying to take care of them, even when he lives on the other side of the ocean).

He and Jamie are trying to outdrink one another, though neither of them had said this aloud. Dani sits beside her girlfriend, arm around her waist, and watches them fondly as some of Jamie’s beer dribbles down her chin. Somehow, she manages to finish before Owen does, and then she’s slamming her glass back down on the table in front of her, liquid spilling into her lap and Dani laughs.

“Oh my god,” she says, reaching across the table for the napkin holder. “You’re a mess.” She grabs a handful of them and turns Jamie’s head her way, mopping her face up while Jamie smiles and laughs at her own ridiculousness.

Owen stops drinking with just a splash left and sets his own mug down, shaking his head as he makes himself swallow. “I refuse to look like that,” he says, gesturing to her beer-stained flannel. “You win.”

“You refuse to look like what? A winner?” Jamie counters, a triumphant gleam in her eye that makes Dani sort of feel like swooning, even though that’s silly.

“A wet winner,” Dani amends and Jamie must be buzzed because her smirk only gets wider and she wiggles her eyebrows at Dani. “Stop.” Dani pretends to push her away as Jamie darts in quickly to plant a kiss on her cheek.

“God, stop being so bloody happy,” Owen complains, not an ounce of animosity in his voice or his expression. “You’re making me ill.”

“That’s probably because of the beer you just guzzled down,” Dani tells him and Jamie cackles.

“She’s got your number,” she says. She lifts her hand up then, burping into her fist and then apologizing and Dani rolls her eyes.

Sometimes, it’s a wonder that this is the same woman who could make her weak-kneed with just a look. More than anyone Dani has ever known in her life, Jamie contains multitudes.

“I’m gonna get you two some water,” Dani says, getting up.

Jamie throws her a happy grin and Owen gives a sincere, “Thank you,” that Dani waves off. She’s only a foot away from the two of them resume their childish bickering.

Slowly, Dani weaves her way through the other patrons and makes her way to the bar, keeping to herself as much as possible. It isn’t as if she’s been in many, but it seems strange, almost, how the atmosphere of the place can change with the types of people who choose to inhabit it. When they first arrived, the place seemed warm and friendly—lots of clean lines and light greys. A modern-looking chandelier strung above the main tables past the bar. An exposed brick wall beside the booths. Without too many people in it, the space had seemed almost bonhomous. Welcoming.

Now, as the evening grows later and people are getting more and more into their cups, it’s begun to lose some of what made it convivial.

So she tightens up her posture, holds her shoulders and head higher, and finds an empty space beside the bar to wait while the bartender assists someone else. There’s a song playing from the jukebox in the corner, but she can’t make out any of the words or even tell what key the melody is in. All she can hear is the distant, seemingly random scatter of an asynchronous beat.

“What have I done to deserve this?”

It takes Dani a moment to realize that, despite the phrasing, the question is being asked in relation to her presence. There’s a man sitting on a stool beside where she’s standing and he’s looking at her with dark eyes that make her feel even more on display. He’s smartly dressed, like he’d come to the bar directly from his office, and his tie is loosened around his neck, the top buttons undone in a blatant show of after-hours leisure.

There’s something to the way he’s looking at her—the parting of his chapped lips—that makes her feel trapped. Makes her heart speed up in her chest.

“Excuse me?” she asks. Wanting to ignore him. Knowing in her heart of hearts that he will likely only persist even if she does.

“What brings a girl like you to a place like this?” he asks, eyes dancing with slight intoxication. Leering at her.

Dani taps her fingers against the bartop, a quiet prayer of, “Come on, come one, come on,” escaping her lips as she stares down the busy bartender. Wanting a rescue. Wanting a way out.

“Did you hear me?” the man asks, and there’s a quality to his voice now that makes her feel even more on edge than before.

Dani decides that the best course of action is to simply play dumb. “Sorry?” she asks, turning his way again with a stiff smile.

He smirks. “I asked what a girl like you is doing in a place like this.”

“Um…” She clears her throat. “Waiting for the bartender.”

“Why don’t you sit down and stay a while.” He gestures at the empty stool beside him. “Let me buy you the next one.”

Dani presses her lips together. Takes a deep breath. “Thank you, but I’m uh...here with people.”

His expression darkens even further somehow. “Boyfriend?” he asks.

Her immediate reaction is to deny it because no. There is no boyfriend. Just her beautiful, silly, and very, very far away girlfriend. But then she thinks of Owen, also with them. Not necessarily intimidating, no, but another man at least.

She grits her teeth. “Yes, actually. Right over there.” She points to the booth where Owen and Jamie are still talking amongst themselves. The man follows her gaze and stares them down. As he does, Jamie perks up, frowning at the sight of him and catching Dani’s eyes.

If there were a way to send for an SOS, Dani would have done it already. Instead, she has to settle for hoping that, after three years together, Jamie might be able to simply read her mind.

“Him?” the man asks. He turns back around and fixes Dani with a hard look that makes her skin crawl.

“Yes,” Dani says. “Him.”

“He looks a little busy with your friend, wouldn’t you say?” He leans a little closer, and Dani jumps when she feels his hand touch her waist, trying to pull her in. “Come on, baby. One drink.”

“No, thank you.” Dani pulls away from him, anger flushing up her neck and chest. “And don’t call me that.”

He grips her arm next, a little too tightly, and Dani’s certain her heart is going to pound directly out of her chest. “What?” he asks, showing his teeth in a way that is so, so different than a smile. “Baby?”

Dani wrenches herself out of his grasp and pulls away. “Yes,” she says, a note of slight hysteria tinting the word. “Now—”

“Somethin’ the matter, Poppins?”

It’s as if her lungs can finally expand when Dani hears Jamie’s voice, feels her warm, gentle hand on her waist. Immediately, she leans into the touch and turns to meet the worried, heated gaze of her girlfriend. She opens her mouth to say something, to ask for Jamie to please, please get her out of here, but she’s cut off by an irritated, “Oh,” coming from the man on the stool.

When she turns, he’s looking between them knowingly, eyes tracing the way Dani has turned herself into Jamie’s touch.

“I didn’t realize you were one of them,” he spits.

Something hot and panicked shoots through Dani’s chest at his words, like lightning, like a bullet. She feels rather than sees Jamie stiffen beside her, pull herself up to make herself seem taller.

“What’s that?” Jamie asks, teeth bared and feral, already pushing herself in front of Dani to stand between him and the man.

He scoffs, and rolls his eyes. “If I’d known, I wouldn’t have wasted my time on a d—”

Thankfully, he doesn’t even have time to finish the thought. Instead, there’s a sickening, fleshy thump as Jamie’s fist collides with his cheekbone.

Hard.

Caught off guard, the man falls off his stool and lands on the floor with an even louder noise. As he does, his arms flail out and knock his glass off the table, and it lands beside him, crashing as it breaks apart upon impact.

Immediately, the entire bar goes quiet as everyone turns to stare at what’s just happened. Owen is standing by the booth, mouth agape and wide-eyed as he looks between a seething Jamie, fist still cocked, and the man on the floor clutching his face.

Dani is clutching Jamie’s other arm, pulling at her and trying to let her mind catch up with the quickly-unfolding events that have just taken place.

“You bitch!” the man yells. He turns to look at the shell-shocked audience around him. “She hit me! You crazy bitch!”

“You’re lucky that’s all I did you fucking dickhead!” Jamie shouts back. “When a girl tells ya’ no thank you, keep your greasy fucking hands off her or I’ll—”

“Jamie,” Dani says softly, tugging at Jamie’s sleeve. “Come on. Let’s just—”

Jamie is wild-eyed when she turns to look at her, as unhinged as Dani’s ever seen her and she looks so angry and beautiful that it’s a wonder Dani keeps standing at all. “He fucking—” she begins, but Dani shakes her head.

“I know, I know.” She throws a look at Owen who is already making his way towards them. “We need to leave, okay? Please.”

It’s the final word, perhaps, that finally brings Jamie back into herself. Her expression softens and she lowers her fist, nodding and letting herself be pulled toward the exit before anyone wises up enough to call the police. As they go, whispered conversations start trickling through the crowd again, muffled shock cupped behind hands as the man begins to pull himself to his feet, deflated and looking very much like a child.

The front door squeaks loudly as they step out into the bitter, November air. It’s shockingly sobering, despite the fact that Dani hasn’t had a drop to drink all night. Her cheeks are flushed with the emotion of the last few minutes and she realizes that she’s trembling, even as she’s gripping Jamie’s wrist.

Fortunately, it seems to have the same effect on Jamie, who’s begun to calm herself down and breathe normally again. The normal sounds of the evening feel otherworldly now—the rush of cars and voices and regular life crashing down on each of them.

The door squeaks again and then Owen is there, coming towards them with a still-surprised gleam in his eye. But there’s something else there, too. Something that Dani thinks might be pride.

“What happened?” he asks, looking between them both.

“Bloody wanker grabbed Dani,” Jamie mutters and she’s inspecting her punching-fist now, eyebrows furrowed.

Owen’s eyebrows raise in even more surprise. “You okay, Dani?” he asks, turning his worry her way.

Dani nods. “I’m fine, I just—”

“Yep,” Jamie says. “It’s broken.”

“What?” Dani squeaks and Jamie looks up at her with a wry smile, clutching her hand to her chest.

“My knuckle. It’s broken.”

“Oh my god,” Dani breathes.

“It’s okay.”

“You broke your hand. How is that—”

“I’m fine. It’s not like I—”

“Jesus, Jamie, why did you have to—”

“What was I supposed to do, Dani?” Jamie asks. “Let him touch you like that when you were trying to get away from him? You looked so scared and he was just...I just...I’m sorry.”

Dani blinks. Tries not to cry. “You big, dumb hero,” she says softly and Jamie looks hurt for a moment until she realizes that Dani is smiling. “You broke your hand defending my honor.”

For a moment, she forgets that Owen is there at all. It’s just her and Jamie and Jamie’s battle wound, wrapped up in a bubble of their own design. Jamie smiles a little, clearly in pain as her adrenaline drains away.

“So out of character for me,” Jamie breathes, laughing a little. “I’m sorry that I—”

Dani cuts her off again, but differently now. Leaning in, she cups Jamie’s face and kisses her, hard and heart and i can’t believe you did that. Jamie lifts her good hand, resting it on Dani’s shoulder as she kisses her back. It lingers for a moment, just long enough for Dani to feel like the earth has stopped spinning beneath her feet.

When she pulls away, Jamie breathes shakily against her lips, resting their foreheads together as they each try to settle down.

Owen clears his throat, bringing them back into the moment. “If you two are done, I really think we should get her to the hospital.”

Reality washes over Dani like an icy ocean wave. “Oh my god, Jamie, your hand.”

The last evening of Owen’s visit, they end the night in the emergency room; Owen buys them food from the vending machine, Jamie makes too many jokes about being temporarily handicapped (“Handicapped,” she says, smiling at herself. “Get it?”) and Dani holds her good hand, remembering all of those heroes she never wanted to be rescued by.

Jamie’s nothing like them. She isn’t a knight or a prince or anything like that. She’s the hard-headed, unbelievable, wonderful love of Dani’s life. And that’s better than any hero she could have ever wished for.

#seriously tho #check out that alternative ending #it's iconic #damie #damie prompt #dani x jamie #dani/jamie #thobm #the haunting of bly manor #dani x jamie fanfic #andawaywego fanfic

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knifefather · 4 years

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KnifeFather’s Kinktober 2020, 18+ NSFW ➼ Day 18: Anal play or coercion ➼ Pairing: Goth!Bruno Bucciarati ➼ Word count: 2.1k ➼ Reader is AFAB and female pronouns are used. ➼ This is part one of two. ➼ Also available on Ao3. ➼ Warning: Both the reader and Bruno are intoxicated during this fic. If drinking or recreational drug use is not your jam, please be cautious while reading this.

You attend a concert and meet the perfect stranger.

The feeling of alcohol stinging the back of your throat distracted you as best as it could from your anxiety. The club was loaded--many other people dressed in the same black clothing as you stood about, talking amongst themselves while they waited for the band to begin their set. Your friend, Narancia, was busy chatting up a girl that he had met on the way into the joint. She was petite with bright pink hair, and her sizeable, poofy black skirt bunched up around her like a cloud. You sat on the other side of him, shooting back the second shot you ordered. Or was it the third?

You were never good at these kinds of things. Even though you were surrounded by like-minded people, you could never get past that incredible hump of social anxiety. You were kinda lost without Narancia and found yourself sticking close to him when you went to shows. The club began to grow smoky pretty quickly. The stench of weed filled your nostrils, and your head began to swim.

Suddenly, you heard the place erupt in noise, whoops and hollers coming from near the stage. The two girls performing came on to set up their equipment, and already they were getting a positive reaction. The lead singer strummed her guitar, testing out the speaker. At least the music was about to begin and that would give you something to focus on. You looked over at Narancia, and he was still busy talking with the girl. Interestedly, the girl wriggled a finger under one of the black leather straps that Narancia wore on his chest. She smiled at him and tugged on it flirtatiously, her blood-red lipstick making her wolfish smile all the more predatory. He began to blush, sputtering at the attention. He was definitely going to get laid tonight. You figured you would leave him to it.

You rose from your seat and decided to start making your way towards the stage as well. The girls introduced their band and thanked the audience for attending. Most of the clubbers were near the stage now. You looked around, taking in the crowd. A few people looked interesting and you thought about going up to talk to them, but the feeling of anxiety in your gut held you in place. As you checked out the group of people, your eyes fell on possibly the most gorgeous man you’d ever seen. His chin-length dark hair blended into the background, admittedly, and his equally dark outfit fitted his body wonderfully. He was talking to another man, tall and with long silver hair. They were mostly keeping to themselves, making chitchat while the music started. As you gazed at them, the man looked over in your direction, noticing your gaze. You quickly snapped your eyes away, trying to act like you weren’t looking. You were thankful when the drummer began playing the opening notes. You tossed a gaze over your shoulder, hoping to see Narancia close by, but you couldn’t see his dark purple hair anywhere. Great. You swallowed thickly and paid attention to the display on stage.

They began to play the next one. The instrumentals went much harder than the last song, and a pit began to open up behind you. You were too skittish for mosh pits, so you quickly ducked out of the way of the other concert-goers. As you moved away, you felt your back collide with someone, hard. You whipped around to apologize, only to see it was the casanova you were checking out only moments before. His painted black lips tugged into a smile while you apologized to him over the loud music.

“You’re fine,” he insisted.

“What?” you asked, the floor and stage vibrating from the sounds around you.

“I said, ‘you’re fine’,” the stranger said again, ducking down to your level and speaking a little louder. Still, you had no idea what he fucking said.

“I’m so sorry, but I have no idea--” you began, yelling over the music. Carefully, he grabbed your arm and ushered you away from the edge of the pit. It was becoming intense as they switched to another fast-paced song, the lead singer still screaming with gusto. As he led you out of the crowd, it was already noticeably quieter. You didn’t see his tall friend anywhere near. “I said,” he began, chuckling, “‘you’re fine’.”

“Thanks. You are too,” you responded without thinking. When you realized what you said, you quickly looked away from him. Did you really just do that? The man’s eyebrows shot up to his hairline. He looked you over, taking in your appearance. His eyes lingered a bit too long before he looked back up into your eyes. His blue ones were hypnotizing--they made you feel oddly special. They were a bit hazy, just like yours.

“What’s your name?”

“Y/n. You?”

“Bruno. Y/n, would you perhaps like to come back to my place after the show?” he asked. Just then, the lead vocalist announced they were going to slow down the set. A soft, lachrymose guitar settled over the club. The singer was singing sweetly now, the steady beat of the drum syncing up with your heartbeat.

“Yes,” you answered, again without thinking. You shouldn’t--you should stay at the club with Narancia. But you had no clue where he was, and he was probably getting some. Why shouldn’t you do the same? Besides, you’d text him after a while to let him know where you were. “Do you… wanna leave now?” you asked boldly, giving him a sly smile.

“Let me tell my friend that I’m leaving,” he said before politely excusing himself to disappear into the crowd. You were alone again, hanging on the outskirts of the crowd. You smelled the skunky stench of marijuana again, and suddenly a joint was being passed to you from another stranger, a woman in a cloak with large, blocky brows. You accepted the joint and took a toke for bravery before passing it to the person next to you. It wasn’t long before Bruno was back at your side, guiding you out of the club with a hand on the small of your back. The sound of the new song playing disappeared into the background.

The night was quiet, yet clear, the streetlights illuminating more than the club did. You had a better look at Bruno under the light. Your interesting new partner was tall, with a muscular but slender built. The brilliant color of his irises stood out even more under the streetlights. You were astounded at how lucky you had gotten. Bruno was beginning to lead you away from the club, down the sidewalk.

“I live near here, so I figured we could walk a bit,” he said, waving his hand in the direction of down the street. You told him that was fine, and you both disappeared from the outside of the club. “I’m not exactly sober, so I wouldn’t want to chance driving." "I'm in the same boat as you," you replied. The slanted lights elongated both of your shadows, making your dark forms look all the more threatening. Bruno’s shirt jingled softly as he walked along, the zippers and chains shifting. You narrowed your eyes to his legs and saw more, along with form-fitting pants that you observed for longer than necessary. He began to make conversation with you, learning more about who you were and where you came from. He was native to Napoli and you were not, so he gave you many pointers about the city and what kinds of places to eat at. Specifically, one restaurant that he claimed had the best food in the city, Libeccio. He was full of knowledge about Napoli and tips on how to live in it. You had been living there for a few years and knew everything that he was telling you, but you enjoyed hearing him speak, so you didn't interrupt.

You realized how intoxicated you were when you arrived at Bruno’s place and there were steps. The platforms that you wore wearing didn’t help you either, and you struggled to climb them straight. You felt Bruno’s arms curl around your waist, and even though he was fucked up too, he still helped you. You did better than you would have on your own, so you allowed it.

When you entered his apartment, you were greeted by a grand window overlooking the rest of the city. You weren’t surprised to find that his place was decorated according to his fashion tastes. Most of his furniture was black leather with appropriate matching tables, as well as minimalistic decor mimicking an almost Victorian aesthetic. What fascinated you the most was the large collection of records that Bruno proudly displayed in his living room. The collection was contained in about three large shelves, all several inches taller than you, and all full. You then observed a small stack of records sitting on the edge of the coffee table nearby.

“I need to get another shelf. I’m running out of space,” he said, his tone a bit bashful. “You can choose some for us to listen to.” You nearly felt honored being allowed to touch his music collection. While you looked over the shelves, you realized there were several different genres contained on them, including older jazz like Miles Davis. You were relieved to be with someone that had an open ear. Days of Future Passed by The Moody Blues called out to you, so you grabbed that one and tucked it under your arm.

“So, tell me about you. You haven’t really said much about yourself,” you said without looking at him. You were busy choosing between two albums now. Bruno raised a pierced brow before responding.

“Is there anything in particular you would like to know?”

You gave a nervous chuckle before choosing The Gold Experience by Prince. “Just mostly making sure you’re not gonna murder me or something,” you said, half-joking. He was quiet for a moment, and you looked over to see his expression. He gave you a dismissive look before replying.

“I don’t want to murder you, I promise. I don’t think it would be within either of our interests,” he said, the corners of his plump, black lips pulling up in a smile. “I’m trying to make you feel good, not hurt you,” he whispered beside you, and you felt your shoulders tense. His little comment caught you off guard, and soon, you felt your stomach flutter pleasantly. You looked over at him, and he gazed back, giving you an interested, heavy-lidded look. “Unless you enjoy a little pain?” he asked, looking you up and down like he did at the club. He was closer than you remembered him being.

“Maybe I do,” you teased, setting down the records, forgetting all about them. The truth be told, you were kinky in a lot more ways than just being a masochist. “Would you like to find out?” you invited, folding your hands behind your back coquettishly. Bruno drew closer to you, pulling your hips into his grasp. When he looked down at you, his long black hair framed his face, his jaw appearing perfectly chiseled. The dark makeup he wore around his eyes made the man's gaze pop. His pupils dilated as he looked down at you.

“I would,” he responded simply, before leaning in and capturing your lips in his. Your lips--no, your whole face --tingled as the man moved his mouth over yours, smacking softly in the room. You moaned into the kiss and fisted your hands in his sweater, pulling him as close as he could be. The exchange was hot as Bruno’s warm lips slotted against yours. His kiss was hungry, yet respectful, and you could tell he was holding back on you. To get a reaction out of him, you slid your hands down his sides and to his waistline. You began to fiddle with his belt-buckle, but he caught your hands in his.

He pulled away from the kiss and gave you a pointed look. “Not yet… I want to have my fun with you first, dolcezza,” he said. He gave you a few more kisses and gazed down at you, his forehead pressed against yours. “I want this to last a while,” he spoke softly, his deep voice rumbling in his chest. All you could do was nod and gaze back at him, your voice failing you. Still holding your hands, he guided you away from the shelves and down the hall to his bedroom. The rest of his home was decorated in the same style as the living room. The exciting adrenaline pumping through you made your vision blur, like you were caught in a whirlwind but perfectly fine with it.

#bruno bucciarati #jjba #not sfw #day 19 part 1 #my work #backup #kinktober entry #tw substance use #tw alcohol #tw marijuana

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queensdivas · 3 years

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Turntables (Roger x O/C)

The first one of the gif board fics! This one was given to me by @freddie-moments and was super excited to make this the first one on my list of things to write. For those waiting for theirs don’t worry it’s coming! I have to get a good understanding of them, (And I have like four other fics, and school) But I got this okay!

Also sorry that it’s short. I promise the other ones are going to be much longer!

FOR YOU GUYS!

HUZZAH!!!

Warning: There is a lot of vulgar language in this short fic. You’ll see why because I get the feeling y’all will enjoy it in the context.

Alright here we go!

Masterlist

Kensington

Janurary 2nd 1974

Let’s see the archies go right here and..and..The Amboy Dukes go right here! Finally got a good supply of The Amboy Dukes and I know they’re going to sell out quickly. Walking around the stand to then open up the curtains for the front window.

Moving my way back over behind the counter to make sure the registrar was ready for the day. After the registar I began going through the records of the day stack to see Aurora Borealis by Jigsaw next in line. Not my favorite album in the world but it’s decent for an opening time slot. Sliding the record out of the sleeve to then place it on the turntable for the needle to gently place it down.

The delivery truck should be here any second since we’ve got a new shipment of magazines coming in today. There’s an issue that people have been asking about that feature The Who and apparently more secrets will be unlocked about them. It’s mostly the same information just told in different forms.

Last step is to unlock the front door! Grabbing my keys that I left on the counter. Walking to the door to unlock it. After unlocking it I flipped the open side then plugged in the christmas lights that were hung around the window of the shop. With it being only noon I won’t really see anybody till four.

One hour…

Had some grumpy old man come in to yell at me for not having Doris Day in stock when in fact we did..just not what he wanted exactly. You’d be surprised how often that happens here and each time it’s just nitpicking for solo vinyls from people that aren’t even printed at the moment. If this is how today is going then I’m ruined for the day!

Two hours later...

It took almost two hours for a group of tourists to come in and mess up half of my cleaning from this morning! Stupid Americans. They thought it would be fun to rummage through The Beatles trying to find anything exclusive since it’s England. (It’s not the first time it’s happened but it gets extremely annoying after a while.)

The record ended for it was time to change the record. Hmm let’s see what else we got here today. Peggy Lee is perfect! Pulling the vinyl from the sleeve to gently place it on the turntable. The snapping began as I began swinging my hips back and forth a little.

Never know how much I love you

Never know how much I care

When you put your arms around me

I get a fever that's so hard to bear

You give me fever,

When you kiss me

Fever when you hold me tight

Fever

In the mornin', a fever all through the night

Sliding from behind the counter to slowly dance throughout the store as I began checking the stock of everything on the floor. Sashaying over to the blues section of the shelf to start going through them.

Sun lights up the day time

Moon lights up the night

I light up when you call my name

And you know I'm gonna treat you right

You give me fever,

When you kiss me

Fever when you hold me tight

Fever

In the mornin'

A fever all through the night

Everybody's got the fever

That is somethin' you all know

Fever isn't such a new thing

Fever started a long ago

Ah the key change. One of my favorite moments in this song. My hips swayed back and forth as I slowly worked my way through the aisle till the door opened. Immediately stopping as the small group came into the shop. Turning around from the shelf to see that they were circling around the shelves nicely.

“Welcome to Itty Bitty Records.” Greeting with a smile as I began going down Ike Turner's collection as they began looking around.

“Um excuse me?” The man stood next to me as he had really curly hair and stood tall like a giant before me goodness.

“What can I help you with?” Smiling as I turned to face him.

“Do you have any Mungo Jerry?” He asked as I had to think for a second.

“We do actually.” Motioning him to follow as we made it to the “M'' section for me to try to find them. Ma..Me...Mo...Mungo Jerry!

“Right there. Now I am expecting a shipment to be delivered in the next week if you’re looking for something specific of his?” He looked at the few records that were there and smiled at me.

“This is good. Thank you.” He smiled as I walked back over to the Blues section to finish where I left out. Definitely need a lot more Aretha Franklin in this shop or I might go mad.

“Excuse me?” Looking up to see another customer who wore a huge fur coat with his hair about shoulder length. It was pretty blonde but sort of odd to see a man in such a big fur coat to come into my store. Normally if they’re looking into records they head into more of the London London area.

“Do you have The Surfaris?” Not a lot of people listen to them. Mostly because they were really popular in California and I think that’s literally it for popularity. I find them interesting with a fun old sound that people still enjoy.

“We do. Didn’t think anyone listened to them on our side of the woods.” Commenting as we walked over the “S” section.

“Sort of a sucker for the classics.” He commented as we rounded the corner into the “S” Shelf.

“Most people our age would call you an old chap. Right here.” Pointing at them with my pencil.

“Fantastic you have Hit City. Is it 65’?”

“Yes. We have a first edition in the back if you’re interested.” He formed a huge smile on his face as that was my cue to go and get it.

“Give me a few minutes.” Smiling as he went back to looking at the records. I walked back into the back to begin looking for the box I usually keep them in.

IT should be around here somewhere. Making it into the back as I was skimming up and down on the shelf looking for one of the original boxes. Is it more back than I thought it would be and I can’t exactly leave the front alone this long.

C’mon...you sneaky little devil where are you hiding?

FOUND IT!

Reaching up to grab the box labeled 10 y/o originals. Should definitely be in here since it only arrived the past two three years. And again no one is going after The Surfaris. If it was anything major mainstream then I would be worried for him.

Walking back out onto the floor to see him waiting patiently at the counter for the record. I went around the counter to open the box and start going through all the records that are in there. It’s a little more dusty than I enjoy it but it’s a good reminder when my workers come in to take over that I can stay later and go through everything.

“Let’s see..we’ve got an original Yardbirds, Velvet Underground, Juicy Lucy who I will make sure plays next. Ummm..” I kept going through them till I saw the yellow truck and red lettering of the album.

“So why The Surfaris? Some small band from California?” Asking him as I handed him the record.

“Nothing was more fascinating than surfing rock. It sort of helps with the gray winters of home.” This is true. England does get rather gloomy and very bright music can always make those gray clouds fly away.

“To think the Americans went from surfing music to heavy rock in a matter of ten years.” We laughed as I noticed that his eyes were...were these beautiful blue pools. Almost like beautiful sapphires.

“If you’re interested I’ve got plenty of more originals in the back. More than just American surfing music.” Smiling at him as I offered him to look into the box.

“I would definitely be interested. Can I put my coat somewhere?” He asked as I pointed over to the coat rack.

“Roger by the way.” He smiled as he took off his coat with a long striped scarf.

“Anya.” Smiling as his group of friends he came in with approached him by the coat rack.

“I’ll be a little bit. Meet you there at the studio around six.” His group left as I began pulling out the rest of the records from the box.

“You seem like a trustworthy chap. Do you mind if I leave you in charge of the front. Just don’t let anyone steal anything please while I get a few more boxes.” Asking him as I am hoping he doesn’t rob me either.

“Of course.” Nodding as I walked from behind the counter to then hurry into the back.

Grabbing the small step ladder for me to start grabbing boxes from the shelf and placing them on the ground. I really need to take a few days and go through all this junk, maybe save me some money on orders if I have almost originals in here. I wouldn’t even sell them for that much more than the ones I already have, just a few more extra pounds maybe.

Lightly kicked the door open to carry two cases of records to then towards the counter. He was already looking through the ones I laid out for him to look at. I’m taking a wild guess that he’s some musician and a very dedicated one to that fact. Or he’s a conicor kind of person who wants to get his hands on this stuff before it comes obsolete.

“These should be good for now. Thank you Anya.” He smiled as I opened the lid of the boxes. He was smiling the entire time as I began going through them to see the amount of records that I had so far in the back. His smile is really cute and it brings a nice warmth into the store.

“The Chocolate Watchband? Holy hell it’s been a few since I listened to them.” I completely forgot about them. I love psychedelic rock but there were so many these past five years that it’s hard to remember each and every one of them.

“There’s something that I’ve noticed with a lot of these types of bands Roger. Their band name has some sort of food in it, guess when the acid is gone you get the serious taste of the munchies.” He chuckled a little to then go through half of the bands.

“The Chocolate Watchband, The Lemon Pipers, The Flying Burrito Brothers, The Peanut Butter Conspiracy, Chicken Shack, and Apple Pie Motherhood?” I don’t think I’ve listened to them before actually.

“Let’s hear it.” He handed me the record as I took off Peggy Lee who to then replace it with their 1968 record. That’s also called Apple Pie Motherhood. The first song that was played was Born Under a Bad Sign. It definitely reminds me of watching Woodstock on the television.

“Let us not forget Vanilla Fudge.” Roger showed me as he did a little jazz hand underneath the record. I just noticed..he has beautiful hands. Not a lot of men have just hands..but they look so rough around the edges. They look stunning.

“Good god this was my first record I think I bought for the store. I’m not surprised that it’s still here. They were a little too hard and felt like they we’re trying too hard. After working in this store for two three years now I can definitely tell when a band is trying too hard or not.

“Do you think this decade will be any better than the previous one?” I asked Roger for him to perk up at my question.

“Well think about it. The movement in California changed music. Little Richard and Elvis Presley brought blues back into light, Lucille Bogan showed that you can write literally whatever you want.”

“Lucille Bogan?” Oh my god Lucille Bogan!

“Lucille Bogan! The raunchy blues singer?” He drew a blank as I practically ran around the counter and towards the Blues section. Bogan bogan bogan AH HA! Snatching it from the shelf to then back to the turntable. Practically tossing off the record from the turntable to replace it with Lucille Bogan.

“Now just listen to the lyrics, let the lyrics flow through you Roger.” Placing the needle down to then watch the show before me. I know Roger is going to be shocked when he hears this song.

I got a man I love

I got a man I like

Everytime I fuck them means

I give ‘em the doggone clap! Oh baby!

His eyes widened for him to take a look at the album cover.

Give ‘em the doggone clap

But that’s the kind of pussy that they really like!

“Jesus Christ Anya!” He laughed. But we couldn’t stop listening to it because it’s just so fantastic!

I told him I gotta have a good cock!

And it’s got four damn good names!

Rough top

Rough cock

Tough cock

Cock with a bone!

“Dear God Anya! How much?” Looking at the front of the album then back at him.

“Fifteen pounds?” Roger immediately pulled out his wallet to hand me the money. Opening the register to give him back his change, with the music still playing around in the background. Till I took the needle off the record to pack it up for him.

“Listen. What time are you out of here?” Roger asked which made me gulp a little.

“Four. Why?” I could feel the rush of blood going through my body at an alarming rate.

“Come by Trident Studios around six if you would like to.” He offered as he placed a small card on the counter.

“Okay. I will definitely be there.” Smiling as he walked over to the coat rack to put on his fur coat then scarf.

“See you later Anya.”

“Bye Roger!” Smiling and waving to him as he left the store.

What just happened?

#roger taylor #Roger Meddows Taylor #Roger and Freddie #roger taylor one shot #roger taylor x reader #roger taylor fluff #Roger Taylor x o/c #Queen #Queen band #Brian May #freddie mercury #John Deacon #fan fiction #Roger Taylor Fan Ficiton #70s Roger Taylor #record #record stores

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iamartemisday · 5 years

Text

The Highest Bidder- a Pepperony fic

A/N: This is my unfortunately late gift for @xxdustnight88 as part of the @womenofmcu‘s Valentine’s Day exchange.

Hope you enjoy!

Pepper had been working as Tony Stark’s personal assistant for nine months, one week, and six days. Here’s what she’d learned:

He drank dark roast coffee with two sugars and one milk.

His favorite band was AC/DC, and she was ninety-nine percent positive he secretly owned the rights to all their music.

He would wear the same pair of jeans multiple days in a row even though he had two closets full of designer clothes.

He preferred blondes with large breasts and long legs, though he’d happily take a brunette to his bed. Very few redheads, though. Not that she cared.

He had no concept of circadian rhythms and didn’t realize he was the only one.

That was how she found herself awake at two in the morning on February 14th, her ill-chosen pop song ringtone cutting holes in her skull with a rusty knife. Tony’s face appeared on her Call ID, grinning like a fool. He was drunk when she took it. Kind of mean, but sometimes, she needed a laugh.

She hit accept. Reminding herself that she made more in a month than most people made in a year, she refrained from cursing him out and settled for a non-committal, “Good morning, Mr. Stark.”

“Club Forty on Eighth Avenue at six.”

“Excuse me?”

“Be at Club Forty on Eighth Avenue at six o’clock tonight. I’ll get Hogan to pick you up. Wear the most expensive outfit you have, and if you don’t have anything that’ll make you look suitably rich, buy whatever you need on my tab. Hogan will give you cash.”

“Wait, Mr. Stark, I don’t understand.” She made the fatal mistake of looking at her glowing blue clock radio. Now her eyes were about to explode. She rubbed them fiercely, struggling to keep them open. “You want me to go to a club?”

“Club Forty. Eighth Avenue. There’s going to be a charity bachelor auction and I need you to buy me.”

“...why?”

“Because if you don’t, Angelica Spooner will.”

“Who’s Angelica Spooner?”

“Some heiress I met at a party a few months ago. I was going to invite her back to my place, but it turns out, she’s kind of completely nuts and obsessed with me. So I must avoid her at all costs.”

“She can’t be that bad.”

“She showed up at my office the next day in a wedding dress.”

Okay, that was pretty bad.

“You know, there should be other women at the auction.” Pepper didn’t actually remember seeing that on Tony’s schedule. Knowing him, he agreed after his seventh daiquiri and failed to remember until yesterday. “There’s no guarantee she’ll win.”

“I’m not taking any chances.” Pepper heard clanking in the background. Sounded like he was elbow deep in a radiator again. “I’m sorry if you had plans-”

She didn’t, and they both knew it. She’d been between relationships since long before Stark Industries was on her radar.

“-but if you do this for me, I will give you anything you want. Extra pay, double vacation days, you name it. Just please, please-”

“Okay, relax. You don’t have to beg.” Not that she didn’t kind of enjoy it. “I’ll buy you at the auction and keep you far away from your bride-to-be.”

She could hear him shudder. “Thank you. I’ll get Hogan to pick you up at five. Unless you need to run some errands first? Get your hair done or something?”

“No, that’s fine.” Pepper ran her fingers through her hair and hit multiple knots. She pushed through and managed to only wince in pain. “I can get myself ready. See you tonight, Mr. Stark.”

“You are a dream, Ms. Potts.”

He hung up and Pepper stared at the phone, watching the time change from 2:32 to 2:33. Now there was a sign-off she’d never heard before. Once, in her first week of work, he told her her eyes sparkled when she laughed and left him mesmerized. She’d taken the compliment as it wasn’t about her ass or her breasts, but assumed it was just him being his usual self. Charming all the girls like a regular Casanova. Knowing she’d never in a million years say yes because that violated so many workplace regulations and just, in general, would be in poor taste.

Never did she think he actually meant it.

Because obviously, his type was elegant, classically beautiful Gwyneth Paltrow type women. Not mousy failed model Pepper Potts.

But the way he called her a dream, in the exact same tone of voice he used to wax poetic about her eyes, almost like he did find her as beautiful as those other girls. Almost like he had a whole different reason to ask her this favor.

Almost like…

Pepper rolled over and fell back asleep. By morning, she should be fully rested and returned to sanity.

Her nicest outfit was a midnight blue evening gown she bought herself as a Christmas gift. It was made of a material she didn’t know the name of but felt like wearing a waterfall. The neckline was on the lower end, but still presentable. The skirt molded to her body like a glove, flaring just a bit at the ankles. Pepper had yet to wear it, but the shopkeeper had insisted, in broken but passable English, that she was a dish in it and men would adore her.

Her doorman, a stone-faced man who could catch flies out of midair, swallowed his tongue as scrambled to open the door for her, and Hogan forgot how to speak for a few seconds as he tried his best not to stare at her.

The shopkeeper was right. Good.

She’d showered earlier in the day and given herself a simple updo. Her make-up was neatly applied and her nails cleaned and manicured. It was a quarter after five and there was nothing to do but get to the club with a half hour to spare.

Of course, traffic being what it was, she just barely made it before the clock struck six. Happy opened the door for her and handed her a platinum credit card.

“From Mr. Stark,” he said. “There’s fifty thousand on there. Should be more than enough to win the auction. Don’t worry, it’s in his name.”

“Thanks, Happy,” she said as the bouncer removed the velvet rope to allow her entry.

She checked her coat and entered the party. It was a swanky event devoid of the usual drunks grinding against each other to pounding dubstep beats. Instead, a pianist played a jazzy tune while men and women in their black-tie best sipped wine and talked about how great being rich was. Pepper recognized a few of them as Tony’s business partners. They greeted her warmly and she responded in kind. Nobody was looking to make conversation, so she found an empty seat near the stage without much trouble.

A man was at the podium organizing his notes. He was short and nearly bald with wire-rim glasses. When he coughed into the microphone, the feedback made Pepper’s ears ring.

“Attention everyone. The auction will begin in five minutes. Please retrieve a paddle from the front desk if you haven’t already.”

Pepper’s paddle was flat in her lap, made from polished cedar wood and lined with gold. Unnecessarily ornate to the highest degree, but all she could’ve expected from the one percent of the one percent.

More people were filing into the dining room now. So many new voices, it was impossible to pick out more than one or two at a time. She distinctly heard a husband and wife arguing over the former’s fixation on their twenty-something babysitter and a waiter rushing through the crowd with a drink in hand.

“Your margarita, Miss Spooner.”

Pepper turned all the way around in her seat. The waiter, grinning foolishly, handed the drink to a woman in a black sequin cocktail dress. She was blonde, leggy, and had boobs bigger than her head. Definitely Angelica.

Despite her objectively pretty face and clear skin, Pepper couldn’t say what made her especially attractive. She stared at the woman as long as she could without being noticed, and there wasn’t a single distinguishing feature to be found. Maybe it was just the distance.

A bell was rung, signaling the start of the night’s main event. The balding man had fixed the microphone and now spoke without causing physical or emotional damage.

“Thank you, everyone, for coming. We’d like to first take the opportunity to wish you all a happy Valentine’s Day. We hope tonight will be a night to remember.”

Some polite applause and then the balding man continued.

“We will begin with our charity bachelor auction. First up, we have Mr. Thomas Holloway, CFO, and co-founder of Datson-Holloway Incorporated. May I start the bidding at five thousand dollars?”

Pepper watched silently as each consecutive bachelor took the stage. She had no idea what Tony’s place in line was or where he was sitting. Most of the men came out from behind a curtain, so it was possible he was back there having as many drinks as he needed to stand before the crowd like a piece of meat and hopefully not go home with someone who probably had his name carved into her arm. Not once did she raise her paddle, earning a few inquisitive looks from the women around her.

“I’m waiting for someone,” she whispered when the stares wouldn’t stop.

Mr. Blake Matthews of Hammertech sold for a cool forty thousand. Then the room hitched a collective breath as the man of the hour appeared.

“Last, but certainly not least,” said the balding man, “Mr. Tony Stark needs no introduction. Let’s start the bidding off at-”

Every paddle was in the air. So was Angelica Spooner.

“Twenty thousand!”

A few paddles went down, but most were furiously waved. Tony’s eyes locked on Pepper, his smile turning horribly fake as a silently pleaded with her. This brought her back to the reason she was here and she rose to her feet.

“I bid twenty-five thousand,” she said.

Angelica Spooner looked like she wanted leap across the room and tear Pepper apart like a rabid cheetah.

“Thirty thousand,” she cried instead.

“Thirty thousand!” The balding man clapped his hands together. “Very good. Do I hear thirty-five thousand? Thirty-five thousand, anyone?”

“Thirty-five thousand,” a random woman in the audience yelled.

“Forty thousand,” said Angelica.

“Forty-five thousand!”

This was actually getting pretty exciting. Even Tony seemed to be enjoying himself. He flashed Pepper a thumbs up, emboldening her to put an end to this once and for all. The credit card burned through her dress into her skin. Fifty thousand dollars. Even the biggest spenders wouldn’t dare go that far all for one measly dinner date. Indeed, more than three-quarters of the paddles were down and what remained were only half as high as they had been.

Pepper didn’t dare look at Angelica, no matter how weirdly tempted she was to give the woman a smirk.

“Fif-”

“Seventy-five thousand dollars!”

A wave of gasps as Angelica pranced on stage and clung to Tony’s arm, so assured of her victory now that her insane bid was on the table. She whispered something in Tony’s ear. He turned snow white and couldn’t bother to fake smile anymore. Now, he just looked sick.

“Well, we have a real battle royale here tonight,” the balding man cheered. “All right, seventy-five thousand. Do I hear eighty thousand?”

Crickets. Pepper couldn’t move. Couldn’t speak. It didn’t matter in the slightest because Tony was her boss and a flirt and about as far from serious boyfriend-husband material one could get outside of convicted felons. Him going on a date with this woman meant nothing to her aside from the legal ramifications if she was as bad as Tony claimed. Otherwise, it was nothing she had any involvement in. Nothing she cared about.

He was just her boss.

But Angelica’s hands on his arm and her lips in his ear…

“No? All right.” The balding man prepared his gavel. “That’s seventy-five thousand dollars going once… going twice… s-”

“ONE HUNDRED THOUSAND!”

It didn’t sound like Pepper’s voice. If she hadn’t felt the vibrations in her throat, she wouldn’t have known it was her at all. Angelica’s eyes bugged out. Tony looked like he’d just seen Jesus. The balding man sputtered and nearly dropped his gavel.

“Wha- you- you can’t-” Pepper kind of liked how presumptuous Angelica had been in going on stage. In the proper lighting, it was now perfectly clear how unpretty she really was.

“That’s it,” a male voice snapped from the audience. Then a middle-aged man stood up. “Angelica, get down here. It’s over.”

“But daddy,” she whined, “you said-”

“I said no more than seventy thousand. No more. Now move. We’re going home.”

It took a few more seconds of pouting and clutching Tony’s arm with her tentacles, but finally, she uncurled herself and stomped off stage, muttering obscenities to herself.

The crowd was silent as father and daughter left the room. He could still be heard yelling at her for embarrassing him even as the balding man cleared his throat and brought the event back to order.

“All right. That was… well, I think it’s safe to say we have a winner! Sold to Virginia Potts for one hundred thousand dollars. Thank you so much, Ms. Potts.”

Pepper waved awkwardly as those daring enough to applaud whistled and whooped for her. She stepped towards the stage where Tony was shaking hands with the balding man. They left after Pepper handed over the card and signed a few papers promising to clean out her bank account to pay for a dinner with her boss. The whole process made her head spin and her stomach churn, even after Tony took the organizers aside and most likely arranged to cover the payment himself.

“Hell of a show there, Potts,” he said while they waited for Hogan to bring the car around.

“Tony, I’m so sorry,” she said, clutching her dress and leaving behind unsightly wrinkles. “I know I was only supposed to bid fifty thousand. I didn’t mean to let it get so out of hand.”

“What are you talking about? You did exactly what I told you to.”

“But you gave me fifty thousand and I ended up bidding twice that.”

“So? I have twelve more cards just like it. Even if I didn’t, I’d give every cent I have and most of my major organs not to go home with Alex Forrest over there.”

“That reminds me,” Pepper looked around but thankfully didn’t see Angelica anywhere. “What was she saying to you?”

Tony shivered as beads of sweat dripped down his face. “Let’s just say I’m really glad I don’t believe in love spells. And that I didn’t drink the wine.”

“Okay then,” Pepper took him by the arm without thinking. “Let’s get a move on.”

“Yes indeed,” Tony took a breath to calm himself down. “How does Monica’s sound to you. Or maybe the Dancing Goose?”

“What’s the Dancing Goose?”

“This little hole in the wall I found one night while bar hopping in college,” Tony said. “It’s a lot ritzier than it sounds and they make amazing crepes. I think it’s a great date location.”

“Are you saying we should actually go on a date?”

Tony shrugged. “I mean, you did spend one hundred thousand dollars on me. Just because I’m paying it doesn’t mean you shouldn’t get my money’s worth.”

Pepper tried not to laugh. She really did. “You know there are a few big reasons why you and I can’t date. Reasons which I have listed to you several times already.”

“Yeah, I was thinking we could skip that part and just go for the crepes.” Tony tried to look endearing and innocent with his puppy dog eyes. If Pepper was a giggling fangirl, it would’ve worked like a charm. When she didn’t break, he sighed. “Okay, tell you what, we go for a friendly dinner and talk about work and other boring stuff. So instead of being a couple, we’re just two co-workers chatting over a candlelit dinner on Valentine’s Day. Sound good?”

Part of Pepper wanted to say no, and not at all for the right reasons. “I suppose an impromptu work meeting in a public place followed by returning to our seperate homes at a reasonable hour would be all right.”

Tony slumped a little. “You sound like my junior prom date’s dad.”

“Or I could just go home.”

“No, no, friendly work not-date is fine. I can live with that.”

Happy arrived with the car and honked the horn. He didn’t say a word as they got in the backseat, which Pepper made a note to give him a good tip for. She sat several inches from Tony, nodding along as he sung the Dancing Goose’s praises, interspersed with directions on how to get there for Happy. As they pulled out, Pepper caught sight of Angelica out the rearview mirror. As she stormed down the steps with her father, her heel snapped on the bottom step, sending her plummetting forward. She landed face first in a puddle from the morning’s rainfall, ruining her hair and dress.

Pepper was not someone who took pleasure in other people’s suffering, she really wasn’t, but she couldn’t help the warm fuzzy feeling in her stomach as Angelica struggled to stand with tears running down her face. Nor could she stop herself from ‘accidentally’ laying her hand on Tony’s forearm and squeezing.

#Tony Stark #Pepper Potts #Pepperony #womenofmcu #Valentine's Day exchange

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weretigerkun · 6 years

Text

Here’s a late post for Fic Writers’ Week Day Four: The Devil’s in the Details

I had already planned to annotate a history of me and you (Dazatsu Period AU) anyway, so here it is!

Selected lines are quoted and arranged according to their chronological appearance in the story. I suggest you read the Author’s Notes on the AO3 fic page itself, as I didn’t repeat some links anymore.

What’s under the read more? References to canon and future side-stories, a timeline of Period AU Atsushi’s life, info about the real Nakajima’s and Dazai’s lives, as well as historical background to explain several details in the fic. Okay? Read on~!

The boy reads it carefully, attention fully captured by the words in front of him. A new character is introduced—it’s a young man whose kindness the protagonist tries to return for the first time.

A scene inspired by their first meeting in canon

Spring blooms, breeds flowers As I breed ink on these hands, Remember the shape Of your brightest smile, Your warmth in my cold embrace, Sunrise in your eyes Beautiful boy beside me For spring, summer, fall, winter— Let me taste your name.

One poem made out of three haikus (5-7-5). Except the third to the last line, because it wouldn’t fit in just five syllables. So have an outtake:

Beautiful bishie, you are my squishy.

Oh look, 5-5! lolol

“Oh no, that one’s private—for the eyes of mon amour only.”

The real Dazai Osamu enrolled in the French Literature department of the University of Tokyo but never attended any lectures. Several well-known contemporary Japanese writers also took up French Literature in their college years. I wonder why.

Instead, the man gives an awkward cough, eyes flitting away briefly. Atsushi yanks the collar of his yukata upwards, tightens it around him.

Dazai is shameless.

Once again, today I wake under frozen sky Trapped by memory But my lips warm with your name, Your body rising like the sun Like winter has passed

This time, I attempted a tanka (5-7-5-7-7) , albeit a modern and modified one.

He’s used to Western clothes, but this white suit feels too foreign, too expensive

Atsushi never buys his own clothes, so Dazai spoils him. To be expounded on in a future side-story.

“Ah, yes, I did hear rumors.”

“He’s doing very well under me.”

“Indeed he is.”

I can’t help slipping in fancy innuendo. This is how I roll, okay.

Also, about “He’s doing very well under me” (NSFW link)…

Kunikida grumbles, but a woman with short hair taps at his arm

It’s Yosano-sensei! She’ll appear in a future side-story.

…a new ballad oozing out of the nearby gramophone.

I wish I could link to an actual song from the 1930s here AHAHA (I really love big band jazz and swing tbh) but instead, I ended up listening to a bunch of 1930s Japanese music. They’re all… really interesting, to be honest.

The short-haired woman that had been with Kunikida laughs into her palm, listening in to the hushed words of the grinning man next to her.

Yosano laughing with Ranpo. He’ll appear in a future side-story too, along with Fukuzawa-shachou and the rest of the ADA. They all work together in the same publishing company, with Fukuzawa as the president and Kunikida as an editor. Tanizaki eventually interns here too after graduation (he’s Atsushi’s classmate).

He’s about to suggest getting a bite to eat when he turns and sees a gawking face in the corner—some middle-aged man in a Western vest, his hair slicked back. Atsushi swallows, hoping to shuffle away…

But then Oda Sakunosuke arrives next to him. He places a heavy hand on the other man’s arm, giving him a blank stare. The stranger looks at him, blinking, taking in murmured words as he’s led away. Oda’s grip is strong, quiet but firm, and so they make their way out of the room, almost as if nothing’s happened.

Oda Sakunosuke protecting his friends and his writer from seedy journalists. <3 Nobody’s writing anything hateful about these two lovers, not under his watch. (As proof: see “the very first article that mentions him publicly”)

One famous photograph of the young Nakajima depicts him in his home […]

Only he and Oda Sakunosuke were privy to some joke.

Wow, okay, I was supposed to write another scene to this BUT I LOST MY NOTES!! :((

By the 1930s, cameras were already smaller, lighter, easier to use, and cheaper. They had become available to the masses and were starting to gain some familiar features: an instant shutter, a timed shutter, as well as the start of color photography. Even folding cameras existed, which could fit into your pocket. I imagine Oda or Ango had one, and so they’d take lots of cute photos of Dazai and Atsushi (and their other friends) whenever they’d come around.

There’s a companion photo to the one published in the book. It was taken a few minutes before Atsushi’s portrait. It depicts Dazai and Atsushi seated side by side, with Dazai’s head on Atsushi’s shoulder, and the boy looking down at him with a bright smile. Very cute. Very sappy. Oda still has this photograph in his personal collection.

After hearing the click, Dazai had laughed and pulled away. “You should take one of Atsushi-kun instead, Odasaku,” he’d said. “He’s much more handsome.”

Atsushi batted him away, but Dazai only replied with something so charming and funny that Atsushi, caught off-guard, let out a wild laugh.

He tugs at Dazai’s sleeve, rubbing the fabric absentmindedly. Smooth and silky, dark against his skin. The edge of a crane’s wing embroidered on the side. “But at least… you like the present I picked out for you?”

Dazai’s kimono based on the Kyoto collaboration art. (1, 2)

I find this incredibly interesting, as the crane is a symbol of happiness and long life. I doubt Dazai would choose it himself (or if he did, imagine the irony), so I headcanon that Atsushi picked it out for him. That boy is so pure and loving <3

The sun rises.

But this time, there is no warmth or light. The sun rises on another day without Atsushi-kun by his side.

No need to waste paper after all.

War effort.

Dazai pulls out a small, clean piece of paper from underneath a messy stack. In the process, he nudges the newspaper unfurled across the table, its headline notifying young men of required conscription.

Young men being drafted for the war effort wouldn’t be sudden news in 1941-1942, as Japan’s Conscription Law was already established in the Meiji Era 1873. This allowed men aged 20 to 40 to bear arms (any man, no longer just samurai) and required them to serve three years of active service, and then four years in reserve. Firstborn sons, students, teachers and widowed men with children were allowed to be exempted, aside from those who were physically unfit. Upper class citizens could probably pay their way out of conscription as well.

The real Dazai Osamu was excused due to his tuberculosis. I imagine this Period AU Dazai could pay his way out of Atsushi’s conscription as well, but Atsushi wouldn’t think it was right.

The real Nakajima Atsushi died in 1942 due to pneumonia. He was 33. I wanted Period AU Atsushi to die before he hit thirty (sorry, Atsushi-kun. I love you, I promise), so, um, here’s a potentially weird timeline of his life. Please keep your suspension of disbelief for a while!

1913: Period AU Nakajima Atsushi’s birth

1918: his first memory, being in the orphanage

1929-1931: his high school years. He discovers Tsushima’s works during this time (maybe a little earlier, maybe in his last year of junior high) and those works impact him greatly.

1932: Atsushi’s first year of university. Probably meets Dazai around this time, late in the year.

1936: Graduates university. Publishes his first short story.

1936-1940: His short literary career before having to fight on the front.

I was going to kill Ooba off in the latest chapter, but I know that as soon as you return you'd yell at me for it.

Ooba is the protagonist in Dazai’s novel No Longer Human.

He had stood here once. In the same city and under the same sky. I pull my coat closer around myself and begin walking, hoping to get home before the roads pile up with snow.

The narrator means Tsushima, and she’s not wrong, but in the tradition of bookends, he would refer to Atsushi.

(Making this post was really fun! I’ll probably make one for every major Period AU side-story too)

#ficwritersweek #bungou stray dogs #period au #fic extras #mine

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khunvegas · 7 years

Text

Stucky Feels!

I’ve always shipped them but it’s recently that I’ve been reading fics in this fandom and they are amazing. This is my collection of amazingness in words. My Stucky fanfic rec.

6:13 AM by @halerogers

It was routine, getting on the train that early in the morning, and Steve had it down to a damn tee. It was tiring, waking up that early to catch a train to work, but it wasn't so bad.

Especially not after he started showing up.

He was the man with murder eyes and shockingly good looks despite the whole hobo vibe but with a soft center. Steve liked to call him the Human Impersonation of the Grumpy Cat in his head; Grumpy Cat for short when he whined about him to either Natasha or Sam.

OR – in which Steve falls in love with a stranger.

A Christmas Game by @that-girl

Bucky loses his pet mouse and yells at his very hot neighbour to keep his cat away from his baby. And Natasha regrets the day she met Bucky. It's a fluff fest.

An Accident of Time by Pickitup

Boys weren’t omegas. Not outside of blue movies, or bluer songs, at least, the kind of anecdotes too ribald even for soldiers to tell. Girls were omegas, sometimes, but rarely, even in those days. Dying breeds, he guessed. When he was the asset it had stopped entirely, he had thought it all over: feels sick thinking of what they would have done to exploit him if he had suffered back then. But now, 2014, eating three meals a day, sleeping regularly in a safe bed, the old ghost has come back.

Bite Your Tongue by Avaaricious

AKA the "I work at a department store and if you take out and unfold a shirt and then leave it one more time I'm going to stuff it down your throat" AU

Captain Fantastic and the Pineapple King by @bucky-fucky-barnes

Shit. She hadn't noticed him yet. Maybe he could turn and leave without them noticing – Sam would understand. Sam was the most empathetic person he knew. He wouldn’t scold Steve for coming home spice-less to avoid an awkward encounter with an ex. Surely. They drew closer Fuck Please don't notice me, please don't notice me, please don't notice me... "Steve?" Fuck. In which Steve is saved from his ex in a grocery store, Bucky Barnes is Way Too Chill about absolutely everything, and Sam has had enough of all of these goddamn pineapples in his fucking house. Or: The five times Steve received a pineapple (and one Piña Colada) and the one time he didn't

Come On, Leave Me Breathless by @emphasisonem

“Shit, I don’t want to talk to him,” Bucky huffs, running a hand through his hair and blurting out the first idea that comes to mind, “I really- would you make out with me real quick?”

“What?” the blond bleats, blue eyes wide as he stares at Bucky.

In which Bucky really doesn't want to talk to his ex and enlists the help of an attractive stranger to avoid him.

Cool Beans by @emphasisonem

“Guy looks a little like a hobo,” Pietro smirks, and a whoosh of breath leaves the young man as his sister elbows him in the stomach.

“Be kind,” Wanda admonishes him. “He’s very handsome, Steve. He looks strong.”

“Don’t be gettin’ any ideas there, Wanda,” Steve smiles at his friend. “I’m doing just fine on my own. I have the shop to think about. I don’t need any romantic entanglements right now.”

“We’ll see,” Wanda’s lips turn up at the corners, and Steve can’t help but laugh at the mischief sparkling in her eyes.

In which Steve owns a coffee shop and Bucky is a carpenter who buys the property next door.

Did you really just ask....? by Kare

"I just want to sit on the couch with you, watch bad action movies, eat greasy pizza and marry you. Is that really that much to ask?"

Steve can deal with the first three wishes. He isn't really sure if he heard the fourth one correctly...

Well, only one way to find out... maybe...

Enjoy the Silence by neversaydie

Silence used to be peaceful for Bucky. These days it makes him feel like he's waiting for something, like he's listening for the warning sounds of predators approaching.

Now silence means he's waiting for the other shoe to drop.

He lives in a beautiful apartment with his husband-to-be and tells himself that everything is just fine. He doesn't sleep, he's scared of putting a foot wrong in case Brock snaps again, and he's desperately lonely, but he has everything he ever wants and that should be enough. It's not like he can complain about being taken care of, even if parts of it aren't exactly his choice.

Running into his childhood friend (literally) just might change everything. 'Just fine' doesn't seem like enough once Steve walks back into his life. The problem is, Bucky's been stuck in his cage for so long that he's not sure he can leave it on his own.

Filthy Things You Say by Limoncello_Bella

Bucky wanted to kiss him, kiss him and then press him against the wall or desk and do things to him that would leave them both as a pile of sexually sated human mush. Mentally, he swore, he didn’t even have a type, but spitfire twinks more stubborn than a mule were quickly becoming number one on the nonexistent list.

Or.

Steve is a cuddle-slut drunk and his latest victim is one Bucky Barnes.

For Who I've Not Yet Become by @thebestpersonherelovesbucky

Bucky Barnes -- powerful Wall Street tycoon -- has everything he needs. Money, good looks, a life in the fast lane. He's living on top of the world in a Park Avenue Penthouse in Manhattan, is the youngest vice president ever over at Stark Industries and might even be named Forbes Man of the Year -- again. Nothing can bring him down.

That is until Bucky has a strange encounter with a young man named Eli on Christmas Eve and wakes up Christmas morning married to his old college sweetheart, Steve Rogers.

With his entire world turned upside down, Bucky must find a way to navigate his way through marriage and fatherhood and suburbia. And maybe find the unique answer to the age old question... What if...?

Heat Wave by HandsAcrossTheSea

Sometimes, you just have to let nature take its course.

Hey, Bartender, Pour ‘Em Hot Tonight by @emphasisonem

Steve looks down and catches sight of a bright pink drink in a hurricane glass. Moisture is beaded on the outside, and the cool feel of it is nice on Steve’s sweaty hand as he picks up the monstrosity Sam has ordered for him.

“What the hell is this?” Steve asks, a disbelieving smile on his face. “You couldn’t just order me a beer?”

“You said to surprise you,” Sam smirks. “And you made me wait.”

“But what is it?” Steve repeats, and is answered by a deep, unfamiliar voice.

“It’s a Singapore Sling,” the man behind the bar is smiling. “Not what you were expecting?”

In which Bucky is a bartender and Steve is immediately smitten. He's not the only one.

Honestly, I Just Came Out To Have A Good Time by @youngavengersfeels

The first time Steve met Bucky, Bucky was jumping into a pond only a smidge less polluted than the from The Simpsons, butt naked. Things could really only go up from there.

I Get Knocked Down (But I Get Up Again) by @emphasisonem

“You sure you’re ok?” the blond asks, and Bucky really appreciates the fact that the guy isn’t laughing, considering his friend can’t seem to help snickering at Sam’s outrageous display.

“I’m fine,” Bucky huffs with a smirk. “Pride’s a little bruised, and I’m guessing I look like a fuckin’ drowned rat, but no permanent damage.”

A slow- and frankly, evil- smile makes its way across the blond’s lips. There’s a flicker of uncertainty in those blue eyes, but it’s replaced with a nearly-predatory look that gives Bucky goosebumps.

“Shame,” the other man teases Bucky. “I’m pretty good at kissin’ things better.”

In which Bucky Barnes is a show off at the beach and pays the price.

I Need Coffee in an I.V. by @emphasisonem

Bucky points at the counter, pouting. “They took my coffee maker.”

Steve looks like he wants to laugh, but Bucky thinks he does an admirable job of biting it back.

“Good god, how ever will you survive?” Steve asks, and Bucky usually kind of adores that sassy mouth of Steve’s, but he doesn’t fuck around when it comes to his coffee.

In which the office coffee maker breaks and Bucky is forced to rely on the kindness of an unknown coworker.

Is It Pretending If I Already Want You? By @ohcaptainmycaptain1918

Based on prompt: Pretend Boyfriends AU where one of their families is always wondering why they're never in a relationship, so the other offers to pretend to be their boyfriend for some family event"

Basic Steps to Getting Yourself In a Pickle With Both Your Family and The Guy You've Secretly Crushed On For Five Years (A Guide):

STEP 1: After being perpetually single and constantly making up excuses to your family, give in and lie about having a boyfriend. STEP 2: Agree to bring said boyfriend to the family cottage for a week so he can be your date to your parents' wedding anniversary party. STEP 3: Panic. STEP 4: Say 'yes' when your best friend and closet crush - who you're convinced isn't interested in you that way in the least - offers to be your pretend boyfriend. STEP 5: Try your best not to fall in love with them during the trip. STEP 6: Fail miserably.

Kinda Like the Way He Dips by @uhtredthepagan

‘Jesus, Bucky, are you wearing a mesh tank top?’ ‘Like it?’ ‘You look ridiculous.’ ‘Excuse me, this was a serious part of my teenage angst, Nat. I wore these boots to school.’

Let your heart be light by @relenafanel

Bucky looks like he’s had a difficult month, what with the eviction notice and all, but that’s not the reason Steve gives for allowing him to stay on his couch.

“You have somewhere to go?” Steve questioned, crossing his arms and attempting to look casual, not like he was worried for Bucky. He stepped into the apartment, ignoring how bare it was.

Bucky paused and gave him an exasperated look. “I’m not completely hopeless.”

A fic spanning from mid-November to early-February.

Of Broken Dreams and Mended Hearts by @thebestpersonherelovesbucky

When the House of Barnes is left in massive debt after the death of George Barnes, their oldest son and heir, Bucky, is forced to sacrifice his own hopes and dreams by entering an arranged married to Steve Rogers. Steve seems kind enough, has a prominent job in the government, and was even voted Society's Best Catch. But the House Rogers is significantly higher in status than Bucky's family, which means Bucky is marrying up in Society, and marrying up doesn't only come with rewards, it also comes with certain...expectations and losses--some of which Bucky might be willing to do anything to avoid. And those opportunities might come his way.

Unless, of course, he actually starts falling in love with his new husband...

One Way Or Another by @chiyume @rogersxbarnesx

When Steve volunteers to help Tony launch Stark Tech’s new Military Prosthetics Project, the last person he expects to see as he walks into the lab is the same guy who had him shoved up against a wall in the back of a club the weekend before.

Back then he had just been Steve Rogers; a civilian looking for a good time just like everyone. Here, he’s Captain America; hero, justice, and patriotism personified. Bucky, however, is still the flirtatious devil he had been back at the club, and he’s obviously not going to let something as trivial as Steve’s occupation get in the way of what he wants.

Patches of Memory by LokiNeedsHugs1031

What if soldiers hadn't shown up at Bucky's apartment while he was in hiding. What if Steve found him instead and no attack followed. Steve finally gets the chance to trigger Bucky's memories and they re-discover their romantic past.

Slide to Answer by @relenafanel

Note: a series that explain you how a stranger gives you relationships advice and then becomes your boyfriend.

Telluride by @captain-winterdaddy

Bucky's mom refuses to believe that he has nobody to bring to their annual Christmas family vacation. She also refuses to believe that he's gay, which in turn leads Bucky to tell her some maybe untruthful things.

Shenanigans ensue.

The artist and his coffee shop muse by Little_Lottie (tfwatson)

“Umm…” Steve glances up to find the waiter standing there with a smirk and a raised eyebrow looking expectant and arguably more delicious than the pastry. “I didn’t order this." “No,” the man says through a huff of laughter. “But technically, you didn’t order the coffee either.”

"Huh?"

Opposite him, the man slides into the booth, light bouncing off his shirt and drenching his eyes with even more blue.

Steve’s eyes dart left and right, looking for whatever it is he’s missed.

The Proposal by @steves-winter-boobear

Steve Rogers works as an executive assistant for his demon of a boss James Barnes, at Pierce Publishing. Everyone HATES working with James Barnes, the epitome of Satan himself in every way possible. But when his Visa for immigration is denied, James quickly hatches a plan and drags Steve into a plot to thwart the United States Government into thinking they are engaged to avoid deportation. Thus follows the weekend from your wildest imagination as boss and employee learn about themselves and what it means to be truly happy.

The Super-Dick of Freedom by raeganrolland

Short story of a slight misunderstanding, underwear that doesn't fit, and the gosh darn Super-Dick.

The Winter Soldier vs. Twitter (hashtag BuckRogers) by @galwednesday

“Remember what I said about internet trolls?”

“Don’t feed the trolls.”

“Exactly. Did I not say the same thing to Barnes?” Tony asked rhetorically. “Were those not my exact words? I could have sworn they were, and yet.”

“Bucky’s feeding the trolls?”

“He’s throwing a goddamn seven-course troll banquet. Every time someone on Twitter asks if your relationship announcement is real, he replies. Colorfully.”

Steve opened his mouth to ask what “colorfully” meant, then caught the gleam in Tony’s eye and put two and two together. He blushed. Colorfully. “Oh.”

(Steve and Bucky announce their relationship in a very dignified press conference. Bucky then replies to every goddamn tweet asking him to confirm it with a different dirty euphemism. Things escalate from there.)

These American Dreams (ain’t no white picket fences left for me) by @kariye

In which Bucky has a house, a dog, an herb garden, and a serious case of insomnia. Welcome to Havensport, Indiana (population 8,294), where Tom’s Neighborhood Grocer stays open all night, little old ladies call the car shop to get their refrigerators repaired, and the heat of summer days and the length of summer nights can make you think that this perfect world will last forever.

Thirty-Eight Days and Counting by @thecommodoresquid

It didn’t escape him that Steve shared his assumed last name. “Are you gonna be my cousin?” Bucky asked dully.

Steve frowned. “Husband, actually,” he said easily, holding up his left hand to show a typical golden band.

Bucky scowled and closed the door.

AKA An AU in which Bucky is put in the witness protection program and Steve is the agent hired to protect him/pretend to be his husband.

Three Men in a VW by Slenderlock

Steve steps back into the car and closes the door, lips still tingling.

“You don’t like blondes,” Bucky says.

Sam chokes.

Worth It by @lesserknownhero

While debating on going through with an ill advised hook-up Bucky is caught by his best friend Natasha. Forced to lie about his whereabouts and nightly activities he invents a fake past with a handsome stranger. Little does he know that once the lies begin they will be hard to stop.

Steve is out alone trying to force himself to be social and failing miserably. The only bright spot in his disappointing evening is comes when he inadvertently eavesdrops on the hot guy next to him as he blatantly lies to his nosy friend. The entertainment takes a turn for the bizarre when suddenly he's pulled into the lies and is forced to play along.

Yours for the Taking by @cookie-book-took

Bucky really should not have got in the car. He shouldn't of stolen the mystery case. He shouldn't of lied about it. He shouldn't of thought he could outsmart everyone. Bucky did all of the above and is firmly on Steve Roger's radar.

But it's exciting and his bland life needs excitement...what's the worse that can happen...

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joonsoulmap-archived · 7 years

Text

hold me by the heart || {two}

What: BTS Fic Genre: Angst Pairing: Min Yoongi x Reader Words: 1.8k Warning: Strong language, curse words etc.

{ONE}

Morning has dawned and now it is time for both parties to face the consequences of last night.

The sun streams through the crack in the blinds and causes Yoongi to twitch in his sleep. His body spasms once more as the words, “Y/N’s boyfriend” reverberate in his skull. He tries to shift more comfortably into the bed to rid himself of the noise but the presence of a warm body tucked into him makes him pause.

A gummy smile splits his lips, and he turns to hold the person closer to his chest. It was all a bad dream, you are here now in his arms, right where you belong.

With his eyes still closed in contentment, he lays a soft kiss on the top of the mass of hair tucked under his chin. “Wow, you're never this cuddly, what’s gotten into you? Not that I’m complaining.”

His eyes shoot open at the painful familiarity of the voice. It isn’t you. It’s her. The shock hits Yoongi as he struggles to get out of bed, the desire to remove himself from this situation getting stronger by the minute. He finally unlatches himself from her and swings his legs off the bed and onto the soft carpeted floor. Getting up, his head spins and he is unstable on his feet for a second before grabbing the arm of his desk chair.

Pain shooting through his temples makes him squeeze his eyes shut and that is the first mistake he makes, for your hurt face comes swimming into his view again. “Fuck.” he whispers before he makes his way to the kitchen to grab a glass of water to down some much needed pharmaceutical help.

Taking stock of the situation he looks around his studio loft. First, he needs to get her the fuck out of here. He’s disgusted with himself, he wants to blame his intoxicated self but he knows it’s a cheap cop out.

How could this have happened he begins to think but his heart has the answer even before his brain can form the question. “She’s moved on you fool, she’s happy with some douche-bag, and you’re still stuck here. 3 months later you’re still stuck in the same place.” it seems his heart has gained sentience and his currently whispering in his ear.

Yoongi has had enough, he clears his mind and looks at the sleeping form still lying on his bed, the shape of her curling up like a snake in his chest and he knows what he must do.

“I’m called you an uber, you should leave.” Yoongi says in a loud voice from the kitchen, sipping on his coffee, not even bothering to kick her out politely. “I know I’m a big distraction to you baby, but let’s go get some breakfast first and then we can repeat last night.” she says in a poor attempt to entice Yoongi again. “For fuck’s sake. Get up and get dressed.” he growls in a dangerous timbre

He doesn't know if it's the hangover or her use of a term of endearment that has him almost gagging. A loud beep from the blonde man’s phone causes them both to jump.

He checks his phone with a furrowed brow but instantly relaxes when he sees the notification. “Your über is here.” Yoongi says in his lazy drawl while waving the phone in her general direction. His back is now turned to her, he cannot bear to look at her face again. It only serves as a painful reminder.

He steps into his mobile recording studio that he set up with great pain after everything shattered to smithereens. It's the only place he can breathe, his only sanctuary. Yoongi can hear the distinct rustling of clothes and a shrill voice yelling, “You’re kidding yourself if you think you can ever get this in your life again, you asshole. Oh and btw, my name is Sun-mi, not Y/N!” a loud bang echoes through his loft and Yoongi finally lets out a deep breathe.

He is finally alone.

He sighs as he picks up his noise-cancelling headphones and snaps them to his ears. Mellow beats of the track he’s been working on flow through and pervade his senses.

He shuts his eyes and unconsciously (or is it on purpose?) his mind drifts to the 3 years ago, when he was grappling with the growing pains of a startup record label. He had known absolutely everything about making music. He had known absolutely nothing about running a business.

3 years ago DaeguBeats Inc.

“So why should I hire you Ms. Y/L/N? You have no previous experience in the music industry, I’m not sure how much of an asset you will be to the company.”

“You didn’t have any experience in running a startup but I don’t see you doubting your abilities to do so. Speaking of assets and liabilities, do yo have any ideas as to what current assets you possess?”

“Your interview strategy is quite unique I must say. Has pissing off the interviewer worked for you before?”

“I’ve never had an interviewer pissed off at me before, but then again I’ve never had an employer who’s as passionate about his brainchild as you seem to be.” “I’ll be honest here Mr. Min, I came to this interview, because I’m a fan of Agust D. Yes I know that’s your pseudonym. Don’t look that surprised, doesn’t take a genius to figure out. Anyway, the passion that you pour in your music really speaks to me and if you’re as passionate about this company as you are about your music, I have no doubt that this venture will be a smashing success.”

“I...I don’t know what to say really. You don't seem like the kind of person who would be into my music. You look very, how should I phrase this, straight edge? Anyway, fact of the matter is I don’t think we will be able to hire you. Your credentials are astounding however we can’t possibly afford you.”

“Aaah I came prepared for this, I know how startups work, I’m not going to hound you for financial remuneration. I might have an idea that may be mutually beneficial to us. Let me buy some DaeguBeats equity.”

“Excuse me? You're being quite presumptuous if you think I'm just going to hand over a piece of my baby over to a stranger.”

“Exactly, I understand that this company is your brainchild and I know how to work in such a way that will both preserve its integrity and increase profit manifold. You have my contact information, give my proposal some thought. Should you choose to agree to it, give me a call. No one can take better care of a this place than a fan.”

The memory makes Yoongi smile as the song continues to flow through his headphones. He was so taken aback by your boldness that he thought he would never call you back in. That was until he realized that the company needed someone exactly like you if it was to grow. With his tail between his legs, he had called you back, setting some terms to your offer.

Slowly the two of you built DB from the ground up, running into your fair share of troubles but nothing that the two of you couldn't overcome. As the label grew, so did your friendship and soon the two of you were inseparable.

Things came to a head when Yoongi saw you walk away from him to go on a blind date. He felt wretched that entire night and couldn't understand why he felt like that until he saw you walk into his studio at 1 am in a red dress crafted by the gods.

He wasted no time in claiming you for himself that night, his hands flying over your body’s map. Thus you had come barraging into DaeguBeats and Min Yoongi’s life.

Neither had ever been the same again.

“So tell me again, why you pretended to be my boyfriend last night? Sorry I was too out of it to interrogate you last night.” you say sternly to your roommate and best friend of 3 months, Jung Hoseok.

“I don't know Y/N, it was totally spur of the moment, clearly that dick can't take no for an answer, so I decided to handle it man to man.” Hoseok answers sheepishly, looking everywhere but towards your face.

“Really Hobi? Because this whole “macho” act of yours is going to open a whole can of worms that I do not have the energy to deal with.” you say to the orange haired man in a tone that comes off angrier than you intend.

Hoseok winces at acid in your voice and replies softly, “Y/N I care about you ok? I wasn't going to just stand back and let some ass stand in our doorway and treat you like that. I don't regret what I did for a second, and I would do it again.” he finishes defiantly.

Your features soften at the unwavering loyalty Hobi shows, that is one of the reasons why you opened up to him so quickly and why you trusted him enough to let him move in with you. He is the exact antithesis of Yoongi. The best best friend you could have asked for.

“I'm being ungrateful. Thank you for what you did for me last night. I was so flustered I wouldn't have known how to react. I owe you big.” you say with the biggest smile you can muster, hopping off the bar stool in your kitchen, heading to the bathroom to get ready for work.

“I'll come collecting one day so don't you forget it!” Hobi hollers after your retreating figure with a giant smile on his face.

“I hope the next time I call myself your boyfriend, it won't be a lie.” Hoseok whispers to himself in the quiet of your living room.

3 months ago YSJ Entertaintment HQ

“Err.. are you ok? You've been crying in the dance studio for half an hour. Usually I would've let you have the space in peace but my trainees are coming in to practice soon and I don't want your privacy disturbed.”

“Oh my god, I'm so sorry. I'm such a mess. I'll get out of your way right now.”

“It's not a problem… by the way I’ve never seen you around here. You look a little older than our average trainee age.”

“Oh sorry I'm so impolite I didn't even introduce myself, I'm Y/L/N Y/F/N. I'm the new associate director for finance for the company.”

“You're a director? What are you doing down here with the little people? Wait, don't cry again… err… I'm the company choreography, the name’s Jung Hoseok but you can call me Hobi. Stick with me kid, I'll show you the ropes.”

“Th-thank you Mr. Jung. I appreciate the kindness. It's my first day I could really use all the help I can get.”

“Please call me Hobi. Let’s start with the staff cafeteria, they make the best kimbap this side of Seoul. While we’re headed there you can fill me in on what has got such a beautiful lady like you in such copious tears.”

#kwritersnet #bts writing squad #noonanet #armiesnet #yoongi.net #daegulinenetwork #bts fic #bts #bts imagines #bts scenarios #yoongi #yoongi imagines #writing #mine #hold me by the heart

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jaeyulliehyung · 7 years

Text

Yixing Goes Unicorn Hunting

Xiao Zhu suggests a road trip, and Yixing just knows this is the worst idea in history. Or is it?

Featuring Yixing and Luhan being bros, Xiao Zhu being a sassy little shit, and these boys all being dumb babies.

Crossposted from AFF. 5k Showxing roadtrip ft. Luhan, essentially just a bunch of fluff. Written for the 2016 Showxing and Tell fic fest.

This was a bad idea.

Yixing had known this was a bad idea, and yet he had agreed to it, and he still couldn’t quite work out why.

Perhaps it had been Xiao Zhu’s winning smile as he’d bounded into Yixing’s room.

“Yixing! You, me, road trip, this weekend.”

“I can’t,” Yixing had said, “it’s my one weekend off, I have plans.”

“Cancel them.”

“No, Luhan’s coming for the weekend and I haven’t seen him in ages.”

“Well, bring him too.”

And that had made Yixing pause, because he had been hoping to introduce Luhan to Xiao Zhu at some point. He wasn’t entirely sure a weekend trapped together in a car was the best way to go about it, though.

“Fine,” he’d sighed, after a moment of deliberation. “I’ll ask him. But if he says no, I’m not going.”

And that was how they had ended up here: the three of them all piling into Yixing’s old van on a Friday afternoon, with a big bag of snacks and no particular destination.

“Here’s how this works,” Xiao Zhu said, turning sideways in his seat to look at Yixing in the driver’s seat. “We get on the highway, pick a car, and follow it until we get somewhere interesting.”

“Sounds good,” Luhan said from the back seat. “Let’s go.”

“I just… follow someone?” Yixing put on his turn signal and pulled out onto the road, mentally kissing his quiet weekend goodbye as he did so. “What if they realise I’m following them?”

“That’s half the game,” Xiao Zhu grinned. “Don’t get caught.”

“Okay, then.”

As they merged onto the highway Luhan leaned over into the front seat, a bottle of Red Bull in each hand.

“Here you go,” he said. “It’ll probably get warm if we leave it, so we might as well drink it now.”

“Thanks, bro,” Xiao Zhu said, “but I will literally die if I drink that, so I’m gonna pass. You have mine.”

Luhan shrugged. “Okay. Yixing?”

“Sure.” Yixing indicated for Xiao Zhu to take his drink and put it in the centre cup holder. “So, who shall we follow?”

Xiao Zhu hummed thoughtfully, then snickered.

“That guy.”

“Which one?” The words were barely out of Yixing’s mouth when he realised which vehicle Xiao Zhu was pointing to: a giant semi truck with half a dozen different shipping destinations advertised on the back.

“Oh god,” he said. “We’re gonna end up in Nanjing.”

“I told you,” Xiao Zhu said. “We keep following until we get somewhere interesting. Or until I have to pee. Whichever comes first.”

“This is gonna be the weirdest road trip ever,” Yixing muttered.

“Woo, road trip!” Luhan yelled from the back seat, then coughed as a mouthful of Red Bull went down the wrong way.

Xiao Zhu plugged his phone into the radio and cranked the volume up.

“Song requests?”

“Ooh, play some Drake,” Luhan said. “I love Drake.”

“Coming right up.”

Checking his rearview mirror thirty seconds later, Yixing caught a glimpse of Luhan dancing in his seat, sipping his drink dramatically as he lip synched. Yixing grinned to himself and looked back at the road. He’d missed Luhan – not that he would ever admit it in front of Xiao Zhu, who hardly needed the opportunity to tease him mercilessly. Having the two of them in the same room was weird, but nice. It was like two distinct parts of Yixing’s personality were finally allowed to co-exist.

It took maybe half an hour for them to get bored. The semi truck moved at least ten miles an hour slower than everyone else, and it was getting harder and harder to ignore their frequent opportunities to pass it.

“Okay,” Luhan said, resting his chin on the shoulder of Yixing’s seat, “maybe the truck was a bad call.”

“Yeah, Yixing,” Xiao Zhu said. “Bad call.”

“It wasn’t me!” Yixing protested, “It was you!”

“Excuses.”

Yixing sighed and looked back at the road. “Shall we choose someone else, then?”

“No!” Xiao Zhu smacked his fist into his palm. “I told you, we stick it out until we get somewhere interesting, or I have to pee!”

“What if I have to pee?” Luhan said. “Or Yixing?”

“Until I have to pee!” Xiao Zhu repeated.

“I shouldn’t have had that second Red Bull,” Luhan murmured.

Yixing leaned his head against one hand, his elbow resting on the window.

“I spy with my little eye…”

They followed the truck until long after the sun had gone down, by which time the highway had turned rural and other cars were few and far between. Xiao Zhu was staring blankly out the window at the dark, and Luhan had his head resting against the back of Yixing’s seat, making small noises of discomfort every time they went over a pothole.

“Guys,” he said, “I really need to pee, can we pull over somewhere?”

“No,” Xiao Zhu insisted, “we’re not giving up! We’re following this guy until we get somewhere interesting.”

“I don’t even know where we are,” Yixing said.

“I really, really need to pee.”

“Just hold it,” Yixing said. “We’ll get somewhere soon enough.”

Luhan leaned back against his seat and groaned.

“I definitely shouldn’t have had that second Red Bull.”

Finally the truck’s blinkers came on. Xiao Zhu let out an excited whoop, sitting up straighter in his seat.

“Yes! Where’s he going, is he turning off?”

“It’s a truck stop,” Yixing said. “No, a weigh station.”

“Good,” Luhan said. “Pull over, I gotta go.”

“I don’t think I’m allowed,” Yixing bit his lip. “It’s only for trucks.”

“Just pull in- nooooo-!” Luhan smacked his hands against the window and staring longingly as they passed the truck stop.

“Keep going,” Xiao Zhu insisted.

“Wait, guys-” Yixing turned his head, trying to catch a glimpse over his shoulder.

“Noo…”

“Keep driving, we’ll find something-”

“Guys-”

“I gotta pee…”

“Guys was that a unicorn?”

“What?” Xiao Zhu turned to look out the rear window.

“You guys I swear I just saw a unicorn!”

Luhan peered back at the truck stop receding in the distance.

“There’s a horse float there… was it a horse?”

“It had a horn, I’m sure of it.”

Yixing debated pulling over; a real live unicorn was too good to miss. As if reading his mind, Xiao Zhu nudged him with an elbow.

“Keep going.”

When Yixing hesitated, Xiao Zhu slid one foot over and tapped Yixing’s foot on the accelerator.

“Keep going!”

“Ahhh! Feet off the pedals!”

“Oh my god, I’m going to die,” Luhan muttered from the backseat.

Xiao Zhu removed his foot but continued to poke Yixing in the arm.

“Keep driving, let’s take the next exit and stop as soon as we reach civilisation.”

Yixing nodded and adjusted his grip on the wheel.

“Okay great,” said Luhan, “but first can we pull over so I can pee? Cause I need to go like right now.”

“Hold it in,” Xiao Zhu said. “We’ll be there soon and then you can go.”

There was a silence of about five seconds. Then Luhan unbuckled his seat belt.

“Fuck it,” he muttered, “I’m peeing out the window.”

“Do not,” Yixing insisted, eyeing Luhan worriedly in the rearview mirror. “Luhan!”

“Ugh, fine.” Luhan sat back down. “Okay, in that case…”

“What?” Yixing prodded, when Luhan didn’t elaborate. “Luhan, what are you doing?”

“It’s fine, keep going,” Luhan said.

“What are you doing?”

Xiao Zhu craned his neck to look over his shoulder.

“He’s peeing into a bottle,” he said.

“Try not to go over any potholes.”

“Oh my god,” Yixing groaned. “Please don’t pee on my floor.”

“Believe me, I’m trying.”

“Aiyowei,” Yixing groaned, tilting his head briefly against the window.

“Aiiiyooooweeeeeiii,” Xiao Zhu mocked. “Aiyowei, wo de tian ah!”

“Stoppp,” Yixing protested.

“Stoppp,” Xiao Zhu repeated.

“Aiyooo, Xiao Zhu-”

“Aiyooo, Yixing-”

“Okay, I’m done,” Luhan interjected.

“Make sure the lid’s on tightly,” Xiao Zhu said, giving Yixing a gentle poke in the arm as he turned to look over his shoulder. “If that spills you gotta do a floor-suck.”

“That’s disgusting.”

“Hey, man, it’s your pee.”

Yixing cut in as he spotted an exit sign. “Should I turn off here?”

Xiao Zhu turned back to look. “Yes, take this exit.”

Luhan leaned forward over the seat. “Do you know where we are?”

“Not a clue,” Xiao Zhu said. “But I’m sure we’ll find something interesting if we keep driving.”

“You’ve been saying that for the past five hours,” Yixing said.

“And it still could be true!”

Another sign appeared shortly after the first, this one proclaiming five miles until the next town.

“Excellent,” Xiao Zhu said. “We’ll stop there for the night.”

The town, when they arrived upon it, was barely a blip on the road: a small collection of houses clustered around a general store, an outdoor pool, and what looked like a community hall.

“Do you think there’s more?” Luhan said, craning his neck to look out the windscreen. “Should we keep driving?”

“I’m pretty sure this is it,” Xiao Zhu said.

“There’s not even a motel or anything,” Yixing murmured.

“Yeah, but we brought sleeping bags, right?” Xiao Zhu said. “Just park in the lot there and we’ll sleep in the car.”

Yixing pulled into the parking lot of the general store and cut the engine. The three of them sat in silence for a second, looking at each other.

“Well,” Xiao Zhu said finally, “let’s go to bed, I guess.”

Luhan looked around doubtfully. “How are we all going to sleep in here?”

“Just put all the bags on the floor, the back folds down…” Yixing got out and opened the back door to help Luhan. In a matter of minutes they’d managed to fold the back seat down to lie flat, and pushed the passenger seat down enough to create a relatively level bench.

“I call dibs on the front,” Xiao Zhu said. “You guys can share the back.”

“The back’s more comfortable anyway,” Luhan said, stretching out like a starfish. “It’s like a double bed.”

“Yeah, but you have to share it with Yixing,” Xiao Zhu pointed out.

“I’m used to it,” Luhan said. “We used to do this all the time.”

“It’s true,” Yixing added. “We shared everything for four years.”

“It’ll be like old times.”

“Suit yourselves,” Xiao Zhu said, flopping down and putting his hands behind his head. “Yo, Xing, pass me my sleeping bag.”

Yixing reached over to grab all three sleeping bags from the far back of the van, then tossed one to Xiao Zhu and another to Luhan.

“Awesome.” Xiao Zhu unrolled his sleeping bag on the seat. Instead of climbing into it immediately, though, he pulled off his shirt and wriggled out of his jeans. “Aw yes,” he sighed. “Xiao Xiao Zhu is free.”

“Xiao… really?” Luhan looked mildly perturbed.

“That’s what he calls it, yeah,” Yixing said.

Luhan raised an eyebrow.

“Should mine be Xiao Xiao Lu then?”

Xiao Zhu began to laugh, a hiccupping snort reminiscent of an actual pig.

“Xiao Xiao Zhu and Xiao Xiao Lu,” he chortled. “Yixing, what’s yours called?”

“I am not participating in this conversation,” Yixing huffed, turning away and pulling his sleeping bag up over his head.

As the other two laughed themselves stupid, Yixing couldn’t help but grin.

Yixing awoke with the early morning sunlight streaming through the window onto his face. He blinked to try and clear the sleep from his eyes, yawning as his body resisted waking. Luhan’s head was resting on his shoulder, his face snuggled into the side of Yixing’s chest, and each gentle snore gave a light puff of breath against Yixing’s shirt. Yixing smiled as he pressed his face briefly to Luhan’s hair. He knew Luhan would never admit to missing him – to missing all of them – but it showed in moments like this.

“Cute.”

Yixing looked up. Xiao Zhu was smirking at him from the front seat.

“Good morning,” Yixing said.

“I already took like three pictures of you,” Xiao Zhu grinned. “You were cuddling in your sleep. It was adorable.”

“Luhan and I have been brothers for a long time,” Yixing said simply.

“I’m glad to see you still are,” Xiao Zhu said, then turned away to grab his clothes.

Yixing wasn’t quite sure what to make of that comment. On the surface it was a lovely sentiment, but something about Xiao Zhu’s smirk gave Yixing the impression that this was one of those “Oblivious Xing” moments where everybody seemed to be saying one thing but meaning something completely different. He shrugged it off and blinked out the window instead.

“So it’s about seven o’clock,” Xiao Zhu said, after a moment. “We should go into the store and get some breakfast. And maybe ask if there’s anything to see here other than grass.”

Yixing nodded and shifted his arm under Luhan, tapping him gently on the back until he snuffled awake.

“Get up, bro,” Xiao Zhu said. “Time to face the new day.”

Luhan sat up and stretched.

“You’re right,” he mumbled. “That seat’s comfy.”

“That wasn’t the seat,” Xiao Zhu said, “that was Yixing’s tit.”

“Aiyowei,” Yixing muttered under his breath. Xiao Zhu just laughed and climbed out of the van.

The clerk in the general store was excited, if a bit bemused, to see tourists.

“Well, there’s nothing really to do here,” she said as she served them all huge bowls of rice and soup from the pot on the counter. “But if you keep driving west for about half an hour there’s a bigger town, and they’re having their summer fair this week. It’s probably nothing as fancy as what you’re used to, being from the city-” she giggled self-consciously, “-but they always have games and music, and some of the farmers bring their lambs and piglets for a petting zoo.”

The words “petting zoo” flashed in front of Yixing’s eyes.

“Xiao Zhu,” he whispered, reaching out to tug on his sleeve. “Can we go?”

Xiao Zhu glanced at him amusedly.

“Do you want to pet the little piglets?” he grinned.

“Maybe they have a unicorn,” Yixing muttered. He’d seen one at the truck stop, he was sure of it. Maybe it had been on its way to the fair with its unicorn babies for the petting zoo.

Luhan laughed and paid the store clerk, who smiled and bowed as they left. They climbed into the car and put the seats back up so they could sit and eat comfortably. Yixing sniffed appreciatively at the soup and took a tiny sip, careful to avoid burning his tongue. It was good, reminiscent of the kind of dish his grandmother used to make when he was a child.

“Okay,” said Luhan, once they were finished. “Shall we drive over to the fair and check it out? It sounds like the best thing to do for miles around.”

“Hell yeah,” Xiao Zhu agreed. “Xingxing, you want me to drive?”

Yixing nodded. “Sure. Be careful with her though, she’s old.”

“Don’t worry.” Xiao Zhu slid over into the driver’s seat and buckled his seat belt. “I’m very respectful of ladies. I’ll take good care of you, won’t I, Nainai?” He leaned forward and patted the dashboard.

Luhan snorted as Yixing rolled his eyes.

“Don’t you laugh at me,” Xiao Zhu muttered as he started the van.

As they turned back onto the main road and sped out of the tiny village, Luhan looked over at Yixing.

“Hey, I was wondering,” he said. “Do you happen to have Minseok’s number, by any chance?”

“Yeah, of course,” Yixing said. “Why?”

“Cause,” Luhan looked down at his hands, thumbs twisting together between his knees. “I, uh- I think he must have gotten a new phone a while ago, right? And I don’t have his new number… and I haven’t talked to him in a while, that’s all…”

Without a word Yixing fished his phone out of his pocket, scrolled to Minseok’s name in his contact list, and passed the phone to Luhan. Luhan took it with a murmur of thanks and began copying the information into his own phone.

“Are you going to text him?” Yixing asked as Luhan passed the phone back.

“I don’t know,” Luhan admitted. “I haven’t really thought about how… Maybe I should call him? No. Yeah, I’ll text him. Or. I don’t know. What do you think?”

Yixing shrugged. He could barely manage his own relationships, let alone advise others on theirs – the people he loved most kept leaving him, so how could he possibly give good counsel on how to repair old friendships?

“You gotta play it cool,” Xiao Zhu called from the front seat. “Send him a casual picture of you doing something awesome. Then it’s up to him to decide if it’s awkward that you somehow have his number.”

Luhan nodded, looking just slightly less worried. “Okay. Okay, I can do that.”

“Listen to Mister Pig,” Xiao Zhu said. “Mister Pig knows what he’s doing.”

Luhan laughed, shooting Yixing a grin across the backseat. Yixing grinned back as he turned to look out the window at the countryside flying by.

The fair wasn’t quite as small as Yixing expected, though by no means as big as anything he’d seen in Beijing or Shanghai. Hand-painted signs directed them one way towards games and rides, another way to the petting zoo. Yixing grabbed Xiao Zhu’s hand and marched him off determinedly in the direction of the barn.

“You really think you’re going to find a unicorn here?” Xiao Zhu said.

“I will examine every horse,” Yixing insisted. “One of them must be hiding a horn. I’m sure of it.”

Xiao Zhu shrugged and took Yixing’s hand more comfortably in his own as they reached the barn.

“Well, I’ll help you look.”

Yixing glanced around at the various pens and stalls.

“Horses are over there,” Luhan called, pointing to the far wall. Yixing jogged over to catch up with him, Xiao Zhu trailing along happily in his wake.

The horses were a mix of large and miniature, from the good-natured Clydesdale currently letting three small children climb his neck to the tiny Shetland ponies trotting in circles around their pen. Luhan began exclaiming over their tiny little legs and fluffy bodies, but Yixing had only one goal: find the horse that was secretly a unicorn in disguise.

“Come here,” he said to one particularly reticent colt. “I want to see what you’re hiding under all that mane.”

The colt just shook its head and trotted away to the opposite corner of the pen.

“I’m watching you,” Yixing whispered.

At the end of half an hour’s thorough examination he had to admit that none of the horses were concealing secret horns – except for perhaps that one colt, about whom he had his suspicions.

“Come on,” Luhan said as he appeared at Yixing’s elbow. “Xiao Zhu’s found some of his family, it’s hilarious.”

Yixing followed Luhan across to the other side of the barn, where Xiao Zhu was chatting away to the piglets.

“This is my uncle, Da Zhu,” he explained, as Yixing arrived. “This is my grandmother, Zhu Nainai, and this one is my little cousin, Mini Zhu.”

Yixing laughed and bowed to the pigs.

“Hello, Xiao Zhu’s family. It’s an honour to finally meet you.”

Xiao Zhu proceeded to carry on a happily one-sided conversation with the pigs, while Yixing turned to look around at the other animals in the barn. Goats, calves, chickens…

“Bunnies,” he whispered.

“Huh?” Luhan glanced up from where Xiao Zhu’s aunt was nibbling at his fingers.

“Bunnies,” Yixing repeated. “Bunnies!”

He took off across the barn. The pen, when he reached it, was overflowing with rabbits. Tiny bunnies and giant lops alike hopped around the enclosure, snuffling eagerly at any food or friendly hand that appeared.

“Aiyo, look at them!” Yixing cried. “They’re so happy!”

He reached a hand in to stroke one of the smallest bunnies, tracing a careful finger between her ears and down her back.

“Hello,” he cooed. “How has your day been? Are you having a good time at the fair? Have the people been kind to you?”

Behind him, he heard Luhan laugh and mutter something to Xiao Zhu. Yixing didn’t care. The bunny was twitching her whiskers against his thumb, and he had never been happier in his life.

Yixing lost track of time somewhere between the third and fifth bunny he snuggled. Eventually, though, he felt a tap on his shoulder and looked up to see Xiao Zhu smirking down at him.

“Come on, Beatrix Potter. We’re keen to go play some games. You coming?”

“Okay.” Yixing stood up and gave the smallest bunny one last regretful pat goodbye. “Be good, small friend! I hope you have a happy life with all your brothers and sisters.”

Xiao Zhu linked his arm through Yixing’s elbow. “She’ll probably end up in a pet store and be bought by some ten-year-old girl. She’ll have to suffer through a thousand boring tea parties, but at least she’ll be properly snuggled every day, and cleaned up after by the girl’s long-suffering mother, who already has too much to do. It’s a pretty happy ending, for a rabbit.”

Yixing nodded. “Rabbits have a good life.”

“Do you wish you were a rabbit?” Xiao Zhu grinned.

“No.” Yixing shook his head firmly. “I like being a person. Rabbits can’t dance or sing. I can. I’m glad I’m a human.”

“Yeah?” Xiao Zhu laughed, squeezing Yixing’s arm briefly before letting go. “I’m glad you’re a human too.”

Outside the barn, they found Luhan at one of the carnival booths, handing over a few coins in exchange for half a dozen balls to throw for prizes.

“I’m excellent at these games,” he said, as Yixing and Xiao Zhu stepped up beside him.

His first shot bounced out of the hoop. The second teetered on the edge and rolled out. The third went straight in.

“I’ve got it now,” Luhan declared.

The fourth and fifth shots were clean baskets, but the sixth, in its enthusiasm, smacked straight off the backboard and went down.

“Ehh,” Luhan shrugged, claiming a small Iron Man figurine as his prize, “could have been worse.”

“Would you like to try?” the stall holder asked Yixing. “Three baskets wins a prize!”

Yixing eyed the shelves full of prizes. They were mostly knockoff plastic models, like Luhan’s Iron Man, but there were a few stuffies among them: emojis, teddy bears, and – Yixing’s eyes went wide – bunnies.

“Yes,” he said, pulling out his wallet. “Yes I would.”

The stall holder took his coins and lined up six balls in front of him. Yixing picked up the first and looked at the hoop. It was smaller than he would have expected for the size of ball he had. That was probably the point, he thought, to stop too many people winning. He lined up his shot and threw the first ball.

“Kkaebsong,” Luhan muttered as the ball skittered off one side of the hoop.

“Bring it back a bit,” Xiao Zhu suggested.

Yixing tried again – that one fell short of the hoop entirely.

“Here, let me help,” Luhan offered.

“I haven’t played basketball in ages,” Yixing admitted, as Luhan stepped up next to him.

“Yeah, me neither. So you don’t want to go forward so much as up-” Luhan grabbed Yixing’s hand to demonstrate the movement. “Try it like that.”

With Luhan’s hands hovering above his own, Yixing took the next shot. The ball rolled around the rim of the hoop, and after a tense second dropped through the net.

“Yes!” Luhan cheered. “High five!”

“Nice work,” Xiao Zhu said, standing off to one side with his arms crossed. “It’s like I’m watching a romcom.”

“Okay next one, next one.” Yixing grabbed the fourth ball and lined it up. “What was it, Lu? How far up do I go?”

“Just like this.” Luhan guided Yixing’s hands through the movement again, and the ball dropped straight through the hoop. “Nice one!”

“One more for a prize,” Yixing murmured under his breath.

The next shot went straight in as well. Luhan cheered and slapped him on the back.

Yixing picked up the last ball. He’d gotten three baskets, which earned him a prize. There were cute anime figurines on the bottom shelf, and he was sure Junmyeon or Sehun would enjoy one of those, but what he really had his eye on were the bunnies on the second and third shelves, and that meant an extra ball. This was his last chance.

“You can do it,” Luhan said, switching unexpectedly to Korean for a second. “Fighting!”

“Yeah, whatever he said,” Xiao Zhu muttered.

Yixing lined up the last shot, took a deep breath, and threw it. The ball bounced for one terrifying second on the far edge of the hoop, then rolled forward and dropped through.

“Yes!” Luhan punched the air. “You did it!”

“We did it!” Yixing beamed. He pointed out the stuffie he wanted and thanked the stall holder as he handed it to him. Yixing turned around, hugging the little bunny to his chest, and grinned at Luhan.

“Thanks, Lu!”

“Hey, you did that all yourself,” Luhan said, reaching out to clap Yixing on the shoulder. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and threw an arm around Yixing. “I want a picture of this.”

They snapped a couple of selfies, the bunny sitting on Yixing’s shoulder between their grinning faces. As Luhan put his phone away, Yixing glanced around.

“Hey, where’d Xiao Zhu go?”

“I dunno,” Luhan said, glancing over his shoulder. “He was here just a minute ago.”

“I want to show him my bunny,” Yixing frowned.

Luhan considered for a second.

“You wanna go have a look for him?”

Yixing nodded, and they turned to walk down the row of stalls.

“Maybe he went to get food,” Luhan suggested.

“Yeah, maybe. It is lunchtime.”

They wandered over to the food stands, but there was no sign of Xiao Zhu. Perplexed, they decided to eat while they waited for a new idea.

“Okay,” Luhan said. “Okay, oh my god, I just sent that picture of us to Minseok. What have I done? I didn’t even say anything, I just sent the picture, should I say something?”

“It’ll be fine,” Yixing said. “Just wait and see what he says.”

Luhan nodded and put his phone down on the table. He eyed it obsessively as he ate, as if by boring a hole in it with his eyes he could make it ring faster.

It was as they were finishing their lunch that Yixing saw it. Bobbing above the heads of the crowd milling between the games and the rides was a single, glowing horn.

“UNICORN!”

By the time Luhan could glance up from his plate, Yixing was already on his feet and sprinting between the tables and benches. He darted through the crowd, the unicorn’s shining horn his guiding star. As it disappeared around the corner he vaulted over a trash can and dodged a herd of small children. When he skidded around the corner after the unicorn he saw it still drifting away from him, only its horn visible over the heads of the crowd.

“Unicorn, wait!”

The unicorn stopped, and Yixing quickened his steps. As the last few people moved out of his way, he saw-

Xiao Zhu. Xiao Zhu, standing there holding above his head a giant unicorn stuffie with a long, glittering horn. Yixing hurtled to a stop in front of him, looking between Xiao Zhu’s determined face and the huge unicorn.

“You were looking for a unicorn,” Xiao Zhu explained, lowering the unicorn and holding it out to Yixing. “I found it for you.”

Yixing just blinked at the unicorn for a second. Xiao Zhu had found a unicorn… for him?

“I mean,” Xiao Zhu shrugged. “If you want it.”

Instead of answering Yixing threw himself at Xiao Zhu, who caught him clumsily, the giant unicorn still dangling from one hand. Still seeming bemused, Xiao Zhu pecked a kiss to Yixing’s cheek. And Yixing wasn’t quite sure why, but he turned his head and kissed Xiao Zhu right back.

Xiao Zhu’s small yelp of surprise was muffled against Yixing’s lips. Yixing, suddenly realising that this was far outside the usual realm of friendship, began to pull back, but then Xiao Zhu’s empty hand came up to cup the back of his head, and he pressed forward again, opening his mouth to Xiao Zhu in a way that felt more natural than he ever would have expected.

After a moment Xiao Zhu stepped back, his cheeks flushed. Yixing could feel the blush rising in his own face, and he looked down at the ground.

“So, uh,” Xiao Zhu cleared his throat. “You want the unicorn, then?”

Yixing, equal parts thrilled, embarrassed and confused and thoroughly unable to speak, nodded vigorously. He took the unicorn and hugged it to his chest, scooping its legs up in one arm so they wouldn’t trail on the ground.

As he was searching for something to do or say other than throw himself back on Xiao Zhu, Luhan burst through the crowd.

“There you are!” he panted, doubling over with his hands on his knees. “God damn, you’ve gotten fast!”

“Look what Xiao Zhu got me,” Yixing said, still fighting the blush in his cheeks.

“Yeah, I noticed that,” Luhan said, looking up at Xiao Zhu. “Where’d you go, dude? We looked for you for like twenty minutes.”

Xiao Zhu shrugged. “I was unicorn hunting.”

Luhan rolled his eyes and straightened up.

“Whatever, dude. Oh man, I should not have run like that on top of lunch. Jeez. I need some water.”

Yixing looked back at Xiao Zhu. “Are you hungry? We were just having lunch.”

Xiao Zhu nodded. “Yeah, sure. Lead the way, Luhan.”

As Luhan turned away, Xiao Zhu reached down and took Yixing’s hand. Yixing looked at him, and Xiao Zhu leaned over to give him another quick kiss. As they began to walk, Yixing ducked his head and bit his lip, grinning madly.

“Oh my god, you guys!” Luhan shouted. “Minseok texted me!”

“Congratulations!” Xiao Zhu called. “Now send him a dick pic!”

As Luhan walked away laughing, Xiao Zhu turned to speak into Yixing’s ear.

“You’re cute when you’re flustered,” he whispered.

“Aiyowei,” Yixing murmured.

“Aiyowei,” Xiao Zhu repeated. “Aiyowei. Wo ai-yowei ni. Oh, look. Your ears are going pink.”

If you liked this fic, you should check out capyshota (aka @okayqueer) on AFF. She writes a bunch of Showxing and it’s all funny as hell, not to mention really well written.

Happy New Year! - JJY

#showxing #fanfic #exo #show luo #friendstolovers #roadtrip #fluff

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