i'll give you the heimlich manouvre
>> kwon jiyong, leader extraordinaire!
>> jiyong/seungri. ninja!youngbae/seungri. ot5? idek.
>> pg13. for language and homo-ness.
>> this is not real okay. i don't own them.
>> it started off with, among others, a phone call. crack!fic. (1736words)
>> so rawryaoi pointed out that there's not enough happy!fics around. my attempt at fixing this situation proves to be an absolute failure. i'm sorry, fandom, for mangling you like this. i really. am. :||
>> comments are appreciated and loved for infinity!
{kwon jiyong, leader extraordinaire!}
It was all part of a worldwide conspiracy to ruin him.
That’s definitely it, because nothing else could explain the pure and plain madness of the whole situation.
And Jiyong, poor, unsuspecting Jiyong with his excellent fashion sense and wonderful hairstyles, was inexplicably dragged into this mess because he couldn’t help being such an excellent and wonderful leader to his small bunch of misguided troublemakers.
(Except. Youngbae, because Youngbae wasn’t misguided or a troublemaker. Calling him both would probably bring upon humanity the wrath of deities who looked over ridiculously sweet and shy virgins.)
So. It started off with, among others, a phone call.
♠
The rice was nowhere to be found and Jiyong had rummaged through the kitchen twice (the electric cooker thrice) just to be sure when he heard the distinct and slightly annoying repetition of ‘I got chu~ unda mah skin!’ echoing from the direction of their bedrooms. He even halted in his search for the elusive rice to frown and reassure his pride that yes, he was infinitely better than Junsu in every aspect because pfft, he didn’t see Junsu being referred to as a genius fashionista, thankyouverymuch. And if Seungri didn’t find a better idol soon, Jiyong would have to avail himself to the noble cause, no matter how tiresome that might be.
(Although in retrospect, Jiyong very much doubted that Seungri could find anyone better to worship than Jiyong. Ah, such was the weight of the world.)
The ringtone went on obnoxiously for a few minutes and coupled with the fact that they would have to eat noodles again for the day, Jiyong was rapidly developing a migraine.
“Yah, maknae! Your damned phone’s ringing!”
There was a second of silence. And then Yoochun’s even more distinctly ‘I wanna touch myself!’ bounced off the walls.
Jiyong carefully counted to ten and used his fingers to smooth the frown lines on his forehead, since YG had been bitching about bills for facials he went for the last month alone. Which was totally wasn’t his fault, since he had his company’s best interest in mind when he embarked in the journey to preserve his natural good looks for as long as humanly possible.
Perfection didn’t come easily and wasn’t cheap, okay.
And Seungri’s phone was still blasting off every DBSK songs in existence, goddamnit.
“MAKNAE!” Jiyong pressed a hand over his forehead as he stalked towards the bedrooms. “I’m going to kill you now so don’t bother escaping because Gaho will smell your ass out and-”
Jiyong paused. And stared.
“… What the fuck are you doing?”
Seungri had wrapped himself in an impressive collection of blankets that Jiyong didn’t even know existed and had somehow managed to wedge himself to the furtherest corner of his bedroom. His face was the only thing sticking out from makeshift armour of fluffy white and it was moments like these that Jiyong couldn’t really explain why he even bothered to pretend Seungri was still within help.
Seungri blinked and looked at him with such adorably confused eyes that Jiyong was momentarily distracted from his anger.
“Hyung?”
The phone screamed and Jiyong remembered that he was supposed to be furious.
“Don’t you ‘hyung~’ me!” Jiyong hooked both hands on his hip and resumed a pose that Seunghyun christened ‘The Impending Bitch Fit Manoeuvre’, although Daesung just called it ‘Let’s Get The Hell Out Of Here And Let Youngbae-hyung Handles This’. Daesung was never poetic to begin with. “Did you suddenly forget how to answer you phone?”
“But hyung-”
“Do you know how annoying it is? And on that note, I think you have a poor taste in idols because Junsu? Isn’t that special.”
“Hyung, I can’t-”
“How dare you cut me off, boy! Who do you think you’re talking to?”
The phone then decided that it didn’t want to be ignored and chimed with Seo Taiji & Boys’ ‘Nan Arayo’.
Jiyong grabbed the phone despite Seungri’s panicked fumble (which resulted in a faceplant, thanks to the blankets). “Yes, this is Seungri’s phone and no, he can’t talk right now because he’s too busy sucking me off so stop calling.”
The silence that followed was awkward and highly expectant of something. Jiyong mostly thought that Seungri could make a pretty accomplished goldfish if he continued gaping like that.
“Well?”
Seungri just gaped more.
Jiyong pursed his lips.
“Hyung, t-that last phone call…”
“Yeah?”
“That’s…” Seungri moaned something unintelligible, rolled onto his face again and it was at that moment that Jiyong experienced a slight sense of impending doom.
Which was what prompted him to flip open the phone and check the recent call list.
President Yang <333
Okay. Yeah. He was definitely in trouble now.
(Jiyong had to admit, however, that the added ‘<333’ annoyed him more than his possible retirement from the music industry from divulging private, albeit false, sexual situations. Because he checked his own number and Seungri listed him as ‘Jiyong-hyung :)’. What. He didn’t even get a ‘<333’ now?)
♠
“So.” Seunghyun was finding it hard to keep a straight face and Jiyong was finding it hard to resist punching that face. The television flashed through a succession of beautiful women in bikinis and Jiyong had hoped that those were enough to distract Seunghyun from further ruining Jiyong’s day with stupidity. Apparently not. “I heard fans everywhere are waiting for wedding bells.”
“Fuck you, hyung.”
Seunghyun’s grin turned a hundred and ten percent lecherous. “You sure Seungri won’t mind?”
Jiyong calmly set the remote down. And punched Seunghyun.
Daesung walked in on them and promptly joined the foray.
Somehow, Jiyong had the vaguest suspicion that Daesung wasn’t really play-wrestling as much as trying to permanently disfigure Jiyong’s face.
♠
If there was one consolation in the midst of this chaos, Jiyong would confidently call it Youngbae. Youngbae was a god-given comfort with reassuring smiles and happy eyes and Jiyong could always count on Youngbae to make everything right again because that was what the Youngbaes of the world existed for.
Only that Youngbae was looking at Jiyong with a slow smile and hooded eyes.
Jiyong felt guilty and he didn’t even know why.
“Congratulations, Ji,” was what Youngbae said when Jiyong had found a comfortable position on Youngbae’s bed, pillows tucked under his chin and all set to spill the wrongdoings that had been done to him in the last twenty four hours. Because yeah, he had been spending too much time in meeting rooms apologising to the president and promising to politely inquire the identity of the person on the other line before detailing the adventures of his sex life. It was traumatising, to say the least.
And here was Youngbae, offering congratulations.
Jiyong grimaced.
The guilt just increased exponentially.
“Uh. For what, exactly?”
All the puppies in this world could’ve been steamrolled in one violent massacre and it couldn’t have been worse than the sad, defeated look on Youngbae’s face.
“Just take care of him. You know he can be reckless and… well, an idiot but he’s a sweet, sensitive kid. He just needs someone who can listen and make him laugh and I’m glad it’s you, Ji.”
Youngbae took one of Jiyong’s hands in his and squeezed.
“I’m very happy for both of you.”
Jiyong wanted to say ‘have you been smoking hyung’s weed, Bae?’ and ‘you don’t look too happy actually’ but his mouth decided to detach itself from his brain and spluttered out,
“Don’t tell me you like maknae too?”
Jiyong briefly flirted with the idea of jumping off the balcony when Youngbae simply squeezed his hand again and started telling him how, even though Seunghyun-hyung can be a bit childish most of the time, Jiyong shouldn’t ever resort to physical violence to shut him up. Seungri might have gotten dragged into the scuffle (both physically and mentally) and really, Jiyong should now keep in mind that maknae was too delicate to handle the stress.
Youngbae ended his little speech with another squeeze, another sad smile.
Jiyong found it outrageous that Seungri was making him lose comfort zones left and right.
♠
“We have to fix this.”
“Bwuh?”
Jiyong rolled his eyes and skipped onto the bed, ignoring the bewildered, half-awake squawk from its owner as he settled somewhere on Seungri’s left leg and tried to make himself comfortable. Jiyong decided that Seungri was too bony and made a mental note to inform Youngbae about this particular discovery, since Youngbae seemed quite insistent in ensuring the well-being of their youngest member. To the point of being creepy, Jiyong thought but it couldn’t bring much harm if that made Youngbae happy.
(As long as he didn’t try to sneak in any moves but Jiyong knew Youngbae wouldn’t. Youngbae wasn’t the kind to steal people’s boyfriends. Even pretend ones. Even accidental ones.)
“Hyung. It’s…” Seungri squinted at his alarm clock and Jiyong wriggled deeper into the blankets, patting down the folds and creases to please his neat eyes. It took a couple of seconds but Seungri finally found the mental power to read the blinking red numbers. “… three am. What do you want?”
“I already told you.” Jiyong knew that Seungri could be a bit dim but he was never this slow. “We have to fix this.”
Seungri’s brows knotted in confusion. Dim. Right. “Fix what?”
Jiyong waved his hands in a grand gesture of explanation and he wasn’t sorry when he hit Seungri in the chest. At least it transformed the half-awake stare into an alarmed wince. “This whole ‘Jiyong and maknae are having sex’ thing. When we aren’t really having sex, you know.”
Seungri gaped.
Jiyong was getting pretty tired of that, to be honest.
“Then… are you here to have sex with me, hyung?”
Jiyong heaved a sigh and was about to inform dim, pretty Seungri that it would’ve been easier if they just explain the whole situation, call everything a bluff and have a good, hearty laugh ho ho ho.
And then his mind caught up with the question.
Oh. Wow. Okay.
“Is that even an option?”
If Seungri looked a bit surprised and a lot terrified, Jiyong took that as a ‘yes’ and proceeded to happily and vigorously fix the misunderstanding. Because well. He’s their brilliant and wonderful Kwon Jiyong, leader extraordinaire. It had become his responsibility to rectify situations that might affect the performance and reputation of the band.
Ah, the sacrifices he made for Big Bang.
{END}
>> jiyong/seungri. ninja!youngbae/seungri. ot5? idek.
>> pg13. for language and homo-ness.
>> this is not real okay. i don't own them.
>> it started off with, among others, a phone call. crack!fic. (1736words)
>> so rawryaoi pointed out that there's not enough happy!fics around. my attempt at fixing this situation proves to be an absolute failure. i'm sorry, fandom, for mangling you like this. i really. am. :||
>> comments are appreciated and loved for infinity!
{kwon jiyong, leader extraordinaire!}
It was all part of a worldwide conspiracy to ruin him.
That’s definitely it, because nothing else could explain the pure and plain madness of the whole situation.
And Jiyong, poor, unsuspecting Jiyong with his excellent fashion sense and wonderful hairstyles, was inexplicably dragged into this mess because he couldn’t help being such an excellent and wonderful leader to his small bunch of misguided troublemakers.
(Except. Youngbae, because Youngbae wasn’t misguided or a troublemaker. Calling him both would probably bring upon humanity the wrath of deities who looked over ridiculously sweet and shy virgins.)
So. It started off with, among others, a phone call.
♠
The rice was nowhere to be found and Jiyong had rummaged through the kitchen twice (the electric cooker thrice) just to be sure when he heard the distinct and slightly annoying repetition of ‘I got chu~ unda mah skin!’ echoing from the direction of their bedrooms. He even halted in his search for the elusive rice to frown and reassure his pride that yes, he was infinitely better than Junsu in every aspect because pfft, he didn’t see Junsu being referred to as a genius fashionista, thankyouverymuch. And if Seungri didn’t find a better idol soon, Jiyong would have to avail himself to the noble cause, no matter how tiresome that might be.
(Although in retrospect, Jiyong very much doubted that Seungri could find anyone better to worship than Jiyong. Ah, such was the weight of the world.)
The ringtone went on obnoxiously for a few minutes and coupled with the fact that they would have to eat noodles again for the day, Jiyong was rapidly developing a migraine.
“Yah, maknae! Your damned phone’s ringing!”
There was a second of silence. And then Yoochun’s even more distinctly ‘I wanna touch myself!’ bounced off the walls.
Jiyong carefully counted to ten and used his fingers to smooth the frown lines on his forehead, since YG had been bitching about bills for facials he went for the last month alone. Which was totally wasn’t his fault, since he had his company’s best interest in mind when he embarked in the journey to preserve his natural good looks for as long as humanly possible.
Perfection didn’t come easily and wasn’t cheap, okay.
And Seungri’s phone was still blasting off every DBSK songs in existence, goddamnit.
“MAKNAE!” Jiyong pressed a hand over his forehead as he stalked towards the bedrooms. “I’m going to kill you now so don’t bother escaping because Gaho will smell your ass out and-”
Jiyong paused. And stared.
“… What the fuck are you doing?”
Seungri had wrapped himself in an impressive collection of blankets that Jiyong didn’t even know existed and had somehow managed to wedge himself to the furtherest corner of his bedroom. His face was the only thing sticking out from makeshift armour of fluffy white and it was moments like these that Jiyong couldn’t really explain why he even bothered to pretend Seungri was still within help.
Seungri blinked and looked at him with such adorably confused eyes that Jiyong was momentarily distracted from his anger.
“Hyung?”
The phone screamed and Jiyong remembered that he was supposed to be furious.
“Don’t you ‘hyung~’ me!” Jiyong hooked both hands on his hip and resumed a pose that Seunghyun christened ‘The Impending Bitch Fit Manoeuvre’, although Daesung just called it ‘Let’s Get The Hell Out Of Here And Let Youngbae-hyung Handles This’. Daesung was never poetic to begin with. “Did you suddenly forget how to answer you phone?”
“But hyung-”
“Do you know how annoying it is? And on that note, I think you have a poor taste in idols because Junsu? Isn’t that special.”
“Hyung, I can’t-”
“How dare you cut me off, boy! Who do you think you’re talking to?”
The phone then decided that it didn’t want to be ignored and chimed with Seo Taiji & Boys’ ‘Nan Arayo’.
Jiyong grabbed the phone despite Seungri’s panicked fumble (which resulted in a faceplant, thanks to the blankets). “Yes, this is Seungri’s phone and no, he can’t talk right now because he’s too busy sucking me off so stop calling.”
The silence that followed was awkward and highly expectant of something. Jiyong mostly thought that Seungri could make a pretty accomplished goldfish if he continued gaping like that.
“Well?”
Seungri just gaped more.
Jiyong pursed his lips.
“Hyung, t-that last phone call…”
“Yeah?”
“That’s…” Seungri moaned something unintelligible, rolled onto his face again and it was at that moment that Jiyong experienced a slight sense of impending doom.
Which was what prompted him to flip open the phone and check the recent call list.
President Yang <333
Okay. Yeah. He was definitely in trouble now.
(Jiyong had to admit, however, that the added ‘<333’ annoyed him more than his possible retirement from the music industry from divulging private, albeit false, sexual situations. Because he checked his own number and Seungri listed him as ‘Jiyong-hyung :)’. What. He didn’t even get a ‘<333’ now?)
♠
“So.” Seunghyun was finding it hard to keep a straight face and Jiyong was finding it hard to resist punching that face. The television flashed through a succession of beautiful women in bikinis and Jiyong had hoped that those were enough to distract Seunghyun from further ruining Jiyong’s day with stupidity. Apparently not. “I heard fans everywhere are waiting for wedding bells.”
“Fuck you, hyung.”
Seunghyun’s grin turned a hundred and ten percent lecherous. “You sure Seungri won’t mind?”
Jiyong calmly set the remote down. And punched Seunghyun.
Daesung walked in on them and promptly joined the foray.
Somehow, Jiyong had the vaguest suspicion that Daesung wasn’t really play-wrestling as much as trying to permanently disfigure Jiyong’s face.
♠
If there was one consolation in the midst of this chaos, Jiyong would confidently call it Youngbae. Youngbae was a god-given comfort with reassuring smiles and happy eyes and Jiyong could always count on Youngbae to make everything right again because that was what the Youngbaes of the world existed for.
Only that Youngbae was looking at Jiyong with a slow smile and hooded eyes.
Jiyong felt guilty and he didn’t even know why.
“Congratulations, Ji,” was what Youngbae said when Jiyong had found a comfortable position on Youngbae’s bed, pillows tucked under his chin and all set to spill the wrongdoings that had been done to him in the last twenty four hours. Because yeah, he had been spending too much time in meeting rooms apologising to the president and promising to politely inquire the identity of the person on the other line before detailing the adventures of his sex life. It was traumatising, to say the least.
And here was Youngbae, offering congratulations.
Jiyong grimaced.
The guilt just increased exponentially.
“Uh. For what, exactly?”
All the puppies in this world could’ve been steamrolled in one violent massacre and it couldn’t have been worse than the sad, defeated look on Youngbae’s face.
“Just take care of him. You know he can be reckless and… well, an idiot but he’s a sweet, sensitive kid. He just needs someone who can listen and make him laugh and I’m glad it’s you, Ji.”
Youngbae took one of Jiyong’s hands in his and squeezed.
“I’m very happy for both of you.”
Jiyong wanted to say ‘have you been smoking hyung’s weed, Bae?’ and ‘you don’t look too happy actually’ but his mouth decided to detach itself from his brain and spluttered out,
“Don’t tell me you like maknae too?”
Jiyong briefly flirted with the idea of jumping off the balcony when Youngbae simply squeezed his hand again and started telling him how, even though Seunghyun-hyung can be a bit childish most of the time, Jiyong shouldn’t ever resort to physical violence to shut him up. Seungri might have gotten dragged into the scuffle (both physically and mentally) and really, Jiyong should now keep in mind that maknae was too delicate to handle the stress.
Youngbae ended his little speech with another squeeze, another sad smile.
Jiyong found it outrageous that Seungri was making him lose comfort zones left and right.
♠
“We have to fix this.”
“Bwuh?”
Jiyong rolled his eyes and skipped onto the bed, ignoring the bewildered, half-awake squawk from its owner as he settled somewhere on Seungri’s left leg and tried to make himself comfortable. Jiyong decided that Seungri was too bony and made a mental note to inform Youngbae about this particular discovery, since Youngbae seemed quite insistent in ensuring the well-being of their youngest member. To the point of being creepy, Jiyong thought but it couldn’t bring much harm if that made Youngbae happy.
(As long as he didn’t try to sneak in any moves but Jiyong knew Youngbae wouldn’t. Youngbae wasn’t the kind to steal people’s boyfriends. Even pretend ones. Even accidental ones.)
“Hyung. It’s…” Seungri squinted at his alarm clock and Jiyong wriggled deeper into the blankets, patting down the folds and creases to please his neat eyes. It took a couple of seconds but Seungri finally found the mental power to read the blinking red numbers. “… three am. What do you want?”
“I already told you.” Jiyong knew that Seungri could be a bit dim but he was never this slow. “We have to fix this.”
Seungri’s brows knotted in confusion. Dim. Right. “Fix what?”
Jiyong waved his hands in a grand gesture of explanation and he wasn’t sorry when he hit Seungri in the chest. At least it transformed the half-awake stare into an alarmed wince. “This whole ‘Jiyong and maknae are having sex’ thing. When we aren’t really having sex, you know.”
Seungri gaped.
Jiyong was getting pretty tired of that, to be honest.
“Then… are you here to have sex with me, hyung?”
Jiyong heaved a sigh and was about to inform dim, pretty Seungri that it would’ve been easier if they just explain the whole situation, call everything a bluff and have a good, hearty laugh ho ho ho.
And then his mind caught up with the question.
Oh. Wow. Okay.
“Is that even an option?”
If Seungri looked a bit surprised and a lot terrified, Jiyong took that as a ‘yes’ and proceeded to happily and vigorously fix the misunderstanding. Because well. He’s their brilliant and wonderful Kwon Jiyong, leader extraordinaire. It had become his responsibility to rectify situations that might affect the performance and reputation of the band.
Ah, the sacrifices he made for Big Bang.
{END}