Request: Could you please do a 60s Barry AU or another Danny Zuko one? Love your imagines!!!
a/n: IVE HAD THIS IDEA FOR DAYS this is like ‘64, ‘65….
Barry is happy. He just finished his work day and he is really interested in this English band across the ocean. Swinging his brown book strap that held his books together, he whistles quietly, white tennis shoes padding against the sidewalk. It’s a beautiful spring day and the sun is shining, creating a golden halo around his neat hair.
Apparently, his humming morphed into singing at some point, but he doesn’t seem to notice. “In spite of all the danger…in spite of all that may be… I’ll do anythin’ for you…” he sings under his breath, switching the book strap to his other hand then back, repeating the process again. Biting his lip, he skips some of the lyrics, dodging a giant hole in the sidewalk. “I’ll look after you…like I never done before…”
He skips up the steps, knocking on your tan door, hearing you shuffle inside. “I’ll keep all the others…from knockin’-” The front door swings open just as he finishes, “at your door.” he grins, elbow on the frame. You giggle, hands smoothing your pale purple dress. “Hey darlin’.” he greets, trying to sound like one of The Beatles.
You shake your head, watching his ankles cross in his striped blue and white high waisted pants. “Come on, cutie.” you smile, pulling him by his white button down. He stumbles inside, hair falling out of its gel. “How was your third day of work, workin’ man?” you smirk, eyeing how the books land on the floor.
With a loud sigh, Barry flops on the plaid couch, golden button on his pants indenting his stomach right above his belly button. “Well, I went to a crime scene today.” he beckons you over, pulling you on his lap. You give an interesting noise, urging him to go on. “Couldn’t really do much of anything. No fingerprints. No DNA. Nothing. I think it’s a dead end.” he shrugs, one hand pressed to the small of your back while the other holds your knees.
Humming, you rest your head on his shoulder, nose gracing his pale neck. “I’m proud of you, Barr. You’ve done so much and you’re so young…” He blushes, playing with your lavender dress in embarrassment. You chuckle, pecking his sunkissed freckled cheek. “Oh! I got someone to fix the telie! Now we have three channels instead of two!” you exclaim in a giddy tone, waving your fingers in front of his face.
“Three?! No way! Aren’t we spoiled?!” he beams, green eyes wide as you kiss his cheek again. The clock goes off, signifying it’s five o’clock. “Dinner time.” he rejoices, picking you up to stand up. His long legs make there way to the kitchen and he smells the meat in the oven, grinning at you. “I have the best wife ever!” he calls out, putting you down, hands keeping your hips warm. “And she’s beautiful!” he yells, impersonating one of The Beatles again. You laugh, opening the oven as he grabs the clean plates in the sink.
He twists his hips as he sets the table, humming Twist and Shout. “Come on shake it up baby…twist and shout!” he smiles, making you burst in laughter. Barry is happy.
i always loved 50s rock n roll since i was introduced as a kid to elvis by my parents (they were teenagers in 50s). i love love Richard as well!! he has such a unique voice and energy when he sings! this song many ppl will remember from the movie Christine (gr8 movie btw) if they dont know it otherwise. on youtube richards music uploads all have positive comments, and from ppl not exposed to that music before! this song is very lively and fun so i thought i would load this song 1st! enjoy!
Okay whew. I’ve had this idea festering in my mind for a few weeks after seeing a list of AU fic settings and spotting this one in particular. I’ll be updating it as inspiration strikes, but hopefully it’ll strike frequently because I feel bursting with words right now. Anywho, let me know what you think, if you want to be tagged or not, etc. etc.
It’s set in the modern days, so iPhones are a thing. And while this chapter isn’t fluffy, it’s gonna get real fluffy up in this fic eventually. Here we go!
Walking dogs was a decent way to make a living while pursuing her dream of writing. There were definitely worse jobs that she could have fulfilled rather than being overwhelmed with enthusiasm from the wiggling tails of nine furry friends, and on a hectic day like today Rae is grateful that she works a job that allows her to set her own hours. In just a day’s time she will be showcasing some of her poetry at her friend Archie’s bookstore at the monthly local author’s tribute. Rae had agreed to the showcase two months ago, then sat staring at her empty notebook for the next seven weeks and six days. Had it not been for her nine dog pals she would have gone mad… well, madder. It was refreshing to get out of the house daily for a nice long walk around Stamford; it provided an opportunity to clear her mind and think out loud without looking like a complete lunatic, since talking to dogs is deemed more socially acceptable than talking to yourself while hustling down the road.
Rae tried her hardest to not pick favorites between the nine dogs, but of course there was the one pup that stole her heart the moment she met him: Damon, an adorable, loving pitbull who was always so happy to see her, and really anyone that the pack might encounter while out on walks. Rae always scheduled her pick-ups and drop-offs so she could have more time with Damon, and while she was trying to work through her writers block and anxiety regarding her upcoming showcase, she took to writing his owner a brief, exclamation point filled, synopsis of their daily jaunts. At first she was worried that Damon’s owner thought her notes were annoying, until she received one in return “Thanks for the updates Damon! I hope ya have a good walk today. Don’t go chasin squirrels again, gettin the whole group riled up. I didn’t raise ya to do tha!” Ever since that note she and Damon’s owner had been exchanging silly notes that had recently taken a flirty turn, and Rae looked forward to walking through his apartment door even more than usual (she guessed that Damon’s owner was a guy, the scratchy scrawl, and the overwhelming smell of man and a hint of CKOne and dog that permeated her senses whenever she crossed the threshold fed her suspicions).
I recently started playing Five Nights at Freddy’s. Terrifying as Hell, let me just say. The duck doesn’t like me much, but FOXY! I caught him slippin out of Pirate Cove and I shut my door. Every time Foxy escapes from Pirate Cove, I think of this.