#actor/manager au spin-off | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

hueseok · 1 month ago

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( 01. ) GOOD GRACES.

kim seokjin doesn’t believe in luck. he’s someone who knows that in order to have good things coming your way, you have to work damn hard for it. however, that might not be the case when it comes to bad luck, because after a video of him goes viral wherein it looks like he’s screaming at someone’s grandma, he begins thinking maybe luck does exist—and it just so happens that he’s now being subjected to a lot of unluckiness.

he’s being cancelled. his career is getting destroyed. his manager is forcing him to take a hiatus. and on top of that, as if things could not get worse, the only hope he has on redeeming everything he worked hard on depends on you, the director’s daughter of the theater show that could propel him back to where he used to be.

that should have been a piece of cake. if only you weren’t his ex who he dumped via phone call and got threatened by to never show his face to ever again...

pairing: seokjin x reader

word count: 4.2k

rating: NC-17

content: fluff, light angst, humor, exes to enemies to friends to lovers au | ft. theater actor!seokjin + himbo energy!seokjin lmao, podcaster!reader + nepo baby!reader

warning/s: lots of swearing | lots of internal monologue by seokjin? lmao

[ chapter index. ]

EPISODE 01. there are worse things i could do !

seokjin never thought that the downfall of his career would happen because of a misconstrued video of him going viral where he was apparently yelling at a poor old lady in a grocery store.

but here he is, getting canceled on twitter and being informed by his manager that he was taken off the projects he was scheduled to do for the upcoming year, the brands who were once so keen on getting him on board suddenly backtracking and terminating the previously signed deals that were already discussed.

regardless of how he tried convincing yikyung, the said manager, that he wasn’t actually fighting the woman who was probably the same age as his grandmother on that short clip—and that all of this was just a stupid a misunderstanding, he’s told it’s too late. the public already made up their mind; they all hated him, and there were several gossip blogs publishing articles that had ‘receipts’ of his apparent bad and diva behavior over the span of his career.

“look, namjoon and I are working on it,” yikyung says, explaining that the PR and legal team are already in the midst of taking care of the whole problem. “but for the meantime, the best you can do is lay low for a while, buddy.”

“what?” seokjin exclaims. “are you saying—”

“you’ll be going on a hiatus.”

“hiatus,” he repeats, enunciating every syllable like he heard it wrong. he feels like he’s going to vomit, the whole room he’s in right now spinning before his eyes.

“yes. hiatus.”

god, seokjin hates that word. he’s been working his ass off since he knew how to act and sing and was the absolute fucking best at it. and now they’re putting him on a hiatus? it’s ridiculous. it’s unfair! he isn’t in some kind of boyband or anything, but he’s pretty sure that they use that term to sugarcoat the fact that the members are quitting the industry or going solo which doesn’t make sense for him so the former category is probably more applicable to his situation at the moment and—

“it’s temporary,” yikyung continues speaking, as if reading what’s going in his mind. “at most, it’ll be a year.”

that still doesn’t calm seokjin down. “you’re benching me for a year?”

“at most.”

“does it really have to be that long?”

“yeah, if we see that it’s necessary enough.”

“i don’t think a year is necessary.”

“we don’t know that yet.”

“but if you keep me away from the public that long… it's going to kill my career!”

yikyung gives him a pitiful look. “it's already dead, jin. let’s be real here.”

he gasps, genuinely offended that his manager would say such a thing. “take that back.”

“look, i’m not happy with this either,” yikyung says, “but the public needs to forget that video. It’s what everybody is talking about, it’s what every director or sponsor that’s asking us about too—nobody would want to associate themselves with your name anyway while the story’s fresh, so this hiatus won’t kill it. doing this hiatus will just induce your career into a coma. you’ll be like sleeping beauty.”

“then who’ll be the fucking prince?”

“a mindblowing project that’ll remind people that you’re the best leading man in the theater world.”

seokjin lets that sink in.

just days ago, he was being blasted with offers to do commercials and new productions due to the successful run of chicago where he portrayed billy flynn. A lot of columns praised his versatility, saying that despite reservations on how he was going to perform, he nailed the part and captured the audience’s hearts with how he made that character his own. it was the biggest ego boost he had in a while considering he was so passionate in bringing billy flynn to life and pulling off the long note he had in we both reached for the gun—now though? all the happiness that he felt before? all the acclaim he reckoned could last him a good few months to stay motivated in doing this? it’s being buried to the ground; he feels as if everything is crashing down and every good thing in his life is fading away.

guess it’s true that being too happy can cause too much sadness after.

“a year goes by so fast, you know,” yikyung tells him. “keep yourself busy. pursue other hobbies. the next time i’ll call you, i’ll make sure it’s about an offer that’ll jolt your career awake again.”

and so with no other choice, really… that’s what seokjin did.

he decides to follow yikyung’s advice and take a train back to his hometown with the plan to help his aunt run the small grocery business she had, residing there until circumstances appear better for him. he figures this break might be better than he thinks, taking into account the fact that he’s been working nonstop since he began landing solid roles years ago. maybe a restart is what he needs; maybe he can use this as an excuse to do other stuff and pursue other hobbies like he was suggested to do.

in the first month of his forced hiatus, he becomes some kind of apprentice at his aunt’s mentioned grocery store. he meets taehyung, a young man who looks way too handsome to be only arranging packed and canned goods in the aisles of the shop as another helper of his aunt; taehyung also apparently recognizes him, asking if he’s that “theater star harassing an old lady” he kept on seeing on tiktok which seokjin’s always quick to correct. taehyung never looks convinced though, regardless of how much seokjin explains, but he at least doesn’t treat him shit for some groundless scandal.

then in his second month, he begins to try pottery. there are classes for it in the same town, a 10-minute drive away and the instructor happens to be a family friend. however, after five sessions, he realizes that he’s horrible at the task and can’t produce anything that’s worth selling or admiring even. that doesn’t mean he doesn’t enjoy it though, ‘cause he does, and he still attends each class or goes on his own for the following months to use this activity as catharsis.

for the third month, he starts painting; on the fourth, he volunteers to walk the golden retriever that an elderly couple neighbor has; when the fifth month comes, he begins jogging around the area, continuing that until the sixth and seventh as he progresses to running—and then on the eight month, while he’s tending to the crops he’s growing at his aunt’s backyard, he finally gets the call from yikyung that he always pretends not to care about.

hurriedly taking off his gloves that are covered with mud, he picks up his phone from the table and answers his agent’s call. “please tell me you have something,” is what he says, not even concealing the desperation in his voice.

“i have something,” yikyung confirms, sounding excited.

“holy fuck,” he whispers to himself. he’s pacing around now, thrilled and anxious, praying to the gods of every religion that this will be a good offer. “what is it? tell me quickly.”

“they’re doing grease,” he says and seokjin does an impromptu super mario impression, just jumping all over the place because of the mention of the famous musical, the kind of musical that he knows would definitely benefit him if he wants to be within everybody’s radar again. “they already have a sandy young—it’s the producer’s niece—so now all they’re looking for is the rest of the cast. I already got you an audition for danny zuko and it’s two weeks from now.”

“god, i fucking love you, yikyung.”

“i’m amazing, aren’t I?”

“the best. you’re a goddamn gift from above.”

“and it hasn’t even been a year,” yikyung proudly points out. “you’ll be absolutely back on your feet after this project. your scandal has died down, anyway. not a lot are talking about it, and some of your fans are getting better at defending you, sharing encounter stories of their own to support the claim that you aren’t a dick who has a fetish in getting into a bickering war with an old woman.”

seokjin rolls his eyes. “never describe it that way to me again.”

yikyung chuckles. “i’ll hire a cleaning lady to clean your apartment here in the city maybe this weekend. when do you think you’ll arrive?”

“some time after the weekend. i’ll have to take care of a few things before i go.”

“like what?”

“well, believe it or not, i actually made some friends here.”

“damn. i told you this hiatus was going to be good for you.”

“yeah, you are right about that. i think it was healing for some reason. aside from the first weeks of me being depressed as fuck.”

“so, what does that mean? does this mean that you think you’ll nail the audition?”

seokjin grins. he isn’t cocky for nothing. even though it was advised to him before to lower it down a bit so that he wouldn’t come across as a complete ass, he knows he’s great at this pursuit of his. he’s charming, he has an amazing voice, and he can pull off any choreography instructed to him regardless of his initial lack of dancing abilities. being a hard worker makes you that way, and it’s what seokjin thinks will always help him in every endeavor he runs after.

“you bet, i will.”

“how’s your voice? your joints? do you need to warm up?”

“i’ve been singing for the community here every tuesday and thursday. i also haven’t been physically inactive like you think i am. i’ve been exercising regularly, improving my stamina and all that shit.”

yikyung doesn’t answer for a few seconds, a silence that seokjin translates into his manager being impressed that he hasn’t let go of himself despite the circumstances.

after a few more clarifications and reminders, the call ends and seokjin flops down on the wooden chair close to him, this goofy and giddy smile erupting on his face. it doesn’t occur to him until this moment that he’s been wishing for a miracle like this to come along because he’s been missing performing on stage like he used to do during shows and even when he’s in dance studios for the rehearsals. yeah, having a reason to take a break was nice too as he expressed, but nothing beats doing what he loves to do.

and playing danny zuko? wow, talk about a huge upgrade from being mandated by his management to disappear from the public to potentially being cast as one of john travolta’s famous roles. of course, the challenge with this is that he has to make sure that he actually gets the role, which he’s optimistic that he’ll be fine with.

his reputation may be questionable once he comes back, but there’s no denying that if there’s anyone who can emanate an arrogant greaser who cares too much about his image—it’s him.

****

seokjin’s aunt was devastated when she discovered that he’s leaving. she tried to persuade him to stay longer (if not for her, for the plants and the grocery store—and maybe the crowd of people he would sing for whenever there was an occasion in the neighborhood). however, regardless of her insistence, seokjin cannot be budged; he’s been waiting far too long for this to have second thoughts about it, to be swayed from this provincial life he has come to love and genuinely enjoy.

“are you coming back?” taehyung asked him when the news of seokjin’s immediate departure got to him too. “because if you aren’t, can I have your bike?”

seokjin rolled his eyes. over the course of his stay, taehyung has become some sort of little brother he never had. “i’m coming back. just to visit though,” he said. “so you can have my bike.”

on the weekend before he left, he spent time with the people he befriended. he arranged a bingo session with the elderly; he ran laps with that golden retriever he took on walks every morning; he did his last piece of pottery with the instructor he also became friends with; then, on his very last night, he shared a few drinks with his aunt and taehyung, promising them that if he gets the part, they’ll have front row tickets to the show.

if not, he’ll jump off the bridge because he doesn’t think he has a face to show to anyone anymore.

he earned a slap on the arm by his aunt with that one.

everything went smoothly when he came back to his old apartment the following morning, freshly cleaned like yikyung promised. nonetheless, seokjin felt it was necessary to check every nook and cranny of the place to verify that, even going as far as examining the decorations, memorabilia, and picture frames he had on display, his finger being swiped on the most random areas to make sure that every corner was polished. nobody lived here for eight months in his defense, and he really could catch a bad case of allergic rhinitis in the case yikyung was lying. he couldn’t have that. he had his voice to take care of; there shouldn’t be snot or phlegm getting in the way of the full prowess of his vocals.

for the next few days leading up to the audition, he did everything he can to assure that he’ll be in his best state when his time to shine comes. he practiced the song sandy, a solo piece sung by danny zuko, and rehearsed the lines for the scene where danny and sandy first meet again at rydell high.

in those hours he spent talking to himself, warming up his voice, making sure that he shaped his words right and exuded the energy of the greaser he’s aiming to play, he started thinking again that he seriously got a huge chance in landing this role. he’s superb at acting; he’s certain that he has the voice needed for this part; and not to mention that he’s got the looks for it, alright. his handsomeness is certainly one of the aspects that makes him so marketable as an actor.

plus, he manages to get a positive outlook regarding this because yikyung has been great in encouraging him, sending him inspirational quotes that sometimes were borderline annoying because it had nothing to do with his situation but still touching in a way.

like right now, as seokjin waits in the holding room of the theater for the audition, he receives a message from his manager with a GIF of a maneki-neko with an oversized arm and the quote by dr. seuss saying, “you have brains in your head. you have feet in your shoes. you can steer yourself any direction you choose. you're on your own. and you know what you know. and you are the guy who'll decide where to go”.

it is a little aligned to what he’s going through right now but seokjin can’t help but still grimace in distaste.

“kim seokjin?” the casting assistant calls, and he snaps his head up from the screen of his phone to peer at the person who called him.

he stands, gaining the attention of the casting assistant. “here.”

“great. follow me please.” she smiles and begins walking to where the stage is without checking whether seokjin followed her or not.

he does, as quickly as possible, thankful because he can finally get away from that enclosed space with fellow auditionees who were either gaping at him or chatting him up, asking about the hiatus he did. he’s smart enough not to give any specific details, instead saying the standard “mental health break” or “sabbatical leave” that they seemed to buy.

walking across the stage, his eyes squint a bit at the spotlight directed to him. then, stopping at the center, he averts his gaze to the two people who are sitting on the front row seats. hyunbin park the director and seungjoon ahn the producer. they both appear serious, like they’re bored, or like they’ve been unimpressed by the roster of auditionees they’ve been having so far.

it creates a spark of hope for seokjin who’s confident that he might just be the person that’ll blow their minds for today. even though this is his first time performing in front of a professional again, he’s learned over the years to trust his skills more, and he knows that he’s definitely adept for the tryout happening at the moment.

“kim seokjin, isn’t it?” mr. Park says. he’s the more intimidating one out of the pair. he’s famous for having directed a lot of shows that got to win several trophies in every award giving body that catered to the theater industry. aside from this production being an anticipated project of his, he’s scheduled to direct a movie with a star-studded cast.

seokjin nods. “yes, that’s me.”

“wait a minute, i know you,” says mr. ahn, an index finger pointed towards him. this man doesn’t look that much older than seokjin. give or take about only five years his senior. “i’ve seen you somewhere. where have i seen you?”

seokjin swallows hard. fuck, fuck, fuck. kill me now. bury me in the ground. shit. i hope he doesn’t realize that i'm—

“ah! i remember.” mr. ahn laughs, turning to mr. park. “isn’t he the guy who played corny collins three years ago or something?”

a huge breath of relief escapes seokjin.

mr. park nods unsurely. “yeah, I think so. did you play corny collins, son?” he asks.

“i did.”

their faces significantly brightened.

“well, i’m looking forward to your audition, seokjin,” mr. ahn says. “i watched the media preview of hairspray back then. i was a great friend of jiyong.”

jiyong was the director of the said show.

“you may begin,” mr. park adds, gesturing for him to go ahead before readjusting the glasses he’s wearing. “break a leg.”

seokjin flashes a dazzling smile and begins.

****

yikyung: how was it? yikyung: the audition should be over by now. yikyung: tell me how you did! yikyung: i’ll be like this for the whole day until you reply. yikyung:

seokjin: do you think sending gifs is cool? seokjin: bc it’s not

yikyung: you didn’t answer my question?

seokjin can’t stop grinning. he’s had this grin since he finished the audition and walked out to the lobby, his mind replaying the events that took place during his performance and the reactions of the director and producer after he was done.

even though the two didn’t make their verdict apparent, seokjin had a feeling that he was going to get cast in this show for the reason that as soon as he finished belting the last line of the song sandy, mr. park and mr. ahn shared a look with one another, their eyebrows raising in what comes across like understanding.

now, quick disclaimer, seokjin doesn’t read minds, but he’s pretty sure that that’s a good sign. he’s done his fair share of auditions and seeing an interaction like that from people who are in charge of casting always raises the chances that he’ll end up in the project. it’s a really big tell from what he thinks—and it’s what’s prompting him to almost skip like a little girl while walking to the café nearby where he’s planning to treat himself with the mouthwatering strawberry cream croissant he saw on their display earlier, nothing in his mind other than fantasies of receiving a call as soon as he gets home confirming he got the part.

maybe i should start incorporating black leather jackets into my wardrobe more… it is what danny zuko wears half of the time in the film and since i’ll be danny zuko, it can be some kind of way i’ll be able to internalize the character and be fucking amazing in this…

clearly, doing an inner monologue isn’t advisable when you’re walking along a busy street filled with people who are obviously in a rush to get to where they’re going.

because as he continues marching forward, taking a quick turn to the café he’s aiming to go to, his thoughts everywhere aside from the path he’s strolling on—his arm bumps against someone’s shoulder, ceasing his daydreaming and causing him to glance back, about to utter a quick apology if it wasn’t for the sight that greets him when he does.

he wrinkles his forehead, gazing at you.

there’s no doubt in his mind that it really is you who he’s looking at, but due to the fact that it’s been approximately 9 years since you last saw each other, seokjin asks himself whether this is legit or is his imagination taking a sinister route and letting him imagine how it would be like to meet the person he doesn’t want to see on a perfect day.

“well, shit,” you say, staring at him with the same surprised yet puzzled expression. your features look more mature, your hair is styled in a different way, your choice of clothes is more sophisticated—yet despite the subtle changes, you’re still as attractive as you were when he last got to see you. he might even dare to think that your attractiveness leveled up as well. “i’ll be damned. it’s you.”

seokjin feels his throat closing up, reality sinking in that you’re really here in front of him. “____?”

“i’m flattered that you remember.” you chuckle. “or that you’re not pretending to have amnesia to escape this conversation at least.”

to be fair, if it registered to him a few seconds earlier on who you are, he might have done exactly that.

but of course he doesn’t admit it. his ears just turn red while he utters a lie. “that’d be silly. it’s not like you’d believe me if i said that.”

“touché. but i still reckon you’d do it. you are an actor.” a smirk makes its way to your lips. “how’s that going, by the way? last time i heard, you’re being murdered on twitter and being called a world class asshole.”

he winces slightly. “that’s an exaggeration.”

“i don’t think so. you are on hiatus because of it, aren’t you?”

“not anymore.”

“oh?”

“you seem disappointed,” he retorts. “then again, i wouldn’t be surprised if you’ve been praying for my downfall ever since you-know-what happened.”

“you-know-what? do you mean when you dumped me?” you explicitly say, not even missing a beat after he was done speaking.

yes, you’re an ex-girlfriend. sadly, an ex-girlfriend he knows he didn’t treat well because of what you just reminded him of.

he presses his lips together, gathering all the confidence he has left. “yes. i do mean that. and i am sorry about it. truly.”

“you dumped me over the phone.”

“i’m aware of that too.”

“you didn’t explain why you wanted to break up.”

a pause. “yes, i didn’t.”

“and just because we coincidentally met again after so many years, you finally apologize?”

“that’s about right.”

“it doesn’t sound very sincere to me.”

he widens his eyes, surprised that you’re not letting this go as easily as he thought you would. from what he remembers, you’re the type of person who doesn’t hold grudges; you’re the type of person that everybody would say was genuinely good. in fact, it’s what he was mad about years back when you were still together—how you often let other people take advantage of your kindness, often putting you in a position of being a doormat or an emotional punching bag.

but that’s almost a decade ago. he feels bad that he’s not sure whether to be proud of you or to be a bit frustrated that he’s on the receiving end of this.

“anyways,” you add after the excruciating awkward silence, “as much as i want to give you a piece of my mind, i have to go. i’d say it was nice seeing you and that we should catch up sometime, jin, but that would be a lie.”

seokjin’s supposed to let you go despite his conscience eating him up. he’s not entirely stupid, it’s apparent that it’s better not to reopen healed wounds, and judging from the manner you spoke to him, you don’t want to give him an opening to enter your life again.

but then your phone rings, which you’re holding on one hand while the other holds a paper bag from the coffeeshop. And then, seokjin sees it—sees mr. park’s face on the screen with a caller ID named ‘dad’, that he can’t prevent himself from staying still and allowing you to leave without explaining what he’s witnessing right now.

“wait,” he holds your elbow as you’re trying to walk past him, “your dad isn’t mr. park, is he? i know your dad. He’s not hyunbin park.”

you blink at him, confused at the random question, however a wave of understanding swiftly washes over you. he watches you grin all of the sudden, eyes twinkling in amusement. he’s familiar with that expression, and it’s scaring him to death because he now has a pretty good idea on what your answer is going to be.

“you’re here in the city because of an audition,” you state, tone so sure that it makes him sweat. “don’t tell me… You’re auditioning for grease?”

he doesn’t tell you he’s auditioning for grease.

your grin widens even further, your next sentence inducing a sensation that might be a heart attack.

“then you’ve met dad. he is hyunbin park, the director.”

fuckity fuck fUCK FUCK!

note. AHHH first chapter is out! i hope y’all like this because i’m happy with how this turned out hehe. this drabble series will only have 10 episodes and i’m gonna pray that i get to finish this before the year 2024 ends 😭

gentle reminder: this author loves feedback! let her know your thoughts if you enjoyed reading this fic and you’ll add 100+ points in her writing motivation meter ♡

106 notes · View notes

fruitsoxs · 1 year ago

Note

hi socks just wanna let u know i have been thinking about those vashwood as roommates headcanons and i always come back to it cz it’s somehow??? so comforting??? 10/10 chef’s kiss thank u!

it's honestly my comfort au-- so here's a part two ! (here's part one)

Having Vash and Wolfwood as roommates would include(part two);;

warnings;; I included some nsfw headcanons this time. they're at the end and have a warning. This also has a bit of fighting/angst that ends in fluff notes: i have a couple of fics in the work for this au. let me know if there any big moments you would like to see written out into a full fic! (also possibly a knives spin off??)

Their jobs/majors

I kind of feel like Vash is studying in the science department. Specifically something that has to do with plant science? Botany, Environmental science, maybe even biology? I know it’s a little on the nose but I really do think it would work perfectly for him

Maybe he even opens up his own little flower shop in the future??

No matter what he has a lot of labs and he is always tired after them.

He probably has a part-time job as a barista at a little cafe on campus

No thoughts just Vash in a cute little apron

He’s a fan favorite among the college kids. They say he makes the best coffee, and he sometimes gives people little freebies when they look sad

His manager Meryl actively yells at him for it, but she doesn’t actually care that much.

He ALWAYS will give you freebies if you come in to visit him. He gets a free drink as an employee, and he’ll save it for you just in case you come in. Sometimes he’ll even take it to go and drop it off for you

Wolfwood gives huge phycology vibes. Mans had a messed up childhood and wants nothing more than to help other people through that stuff

Either that or he’s an art student. I can see that too

He takes school very seriously, but he is horrible at math. He cannot divide to save his life. He’s had to retake his math class like three times

His job? Well nobody knows and at this point everyone is too scared to ask. (He’s a security guard lol)

Whatever it is, he hates it. He comes home grumpy and needs lots of hugs and kisses.

He’ll be all pouty and pissed off, and then you’ll give him a little kiss on the cheek and a small smile will break out

Bonus; Knives is on the track to becoming a surgeon. I will die on the hill that he is going into the medical field. (he’d look so good in scrubs) and i know McDonalds knives is kind of funny, but I'm thinking he’s actually and EMT. Imagine getting hurt and having Knives be your first responder (id die on the spot)

First Date

It’s not really a date- well you don’t call it a date. Vash just walks in with a couple of free tickets to a haunted house event thing and asks if you and Wolfwood want to come

You’re like hell yeah

The drive there is like the calm before the storm. You listen to some music, seated in front with wolfwood driving. He definitely has his hand on your thigh. Vash is super excited about finally doing something that isn’t getting high and playing games

You all thought it was gonna be some dumb little spooky house. They’re never that scary. It’s just fun to see all the decorations and actors

Oh boy were you wrong

It’s so well put together. The actors are really into it, and they have amazing make up. When you’re standing in line, some clown girl walks up to Vash and you watch the regret build up on his face. The guy is already terrified

The first hallway is pitch black, and you have to rely on a feeling your way through it. Vash is mumbling about how much he hates it the entire time

Wolfwood is like “Don’t worry guys I’ll protect you.” And then proceeds to let out the loudest scream when the lights come on and there’s a girl dressed up as a ghost standing there

Soon all three of you are huddled up, holding hands, and shaking

These things should not be that scary!!!

It’s Vash who gets you kicked out

He gets so spooked that he runs into a bunch of boxes and knocks one of the fake walls down. The entire thing has to stop to fix it

You’re all banned

After that you go eat pancakes and complain about how scary it was

When things get tense

Fights can happen sometimes

None of you are perfect, and those boys have gone through some shit

Vash tends to shut himself away from you when he’s upset. He doesn’t come out of his room, and when he does he pretends like he’s fine.

He doesn’t like burdening other people with his problems.

Eventually it just starts to feel like he doesn’t trust you enough to let you in. SIt gets really bad when he tells you to go away one day, and you watch Wolfwood walk into his room 30 minutes later

It doesn’t really turn into a fight. You just get sad, and even a little insecure. So, you avoid him back. Not because you’re vengeful, just because you feel hurt

A few days of the two of you not talking and Vash is in tears by your door

He begs for forgiveness and explains why he’s like this

You tell him it’s okay, but what he does really hurt you. He promises to work on it, and he does

That night the two of you make up for loss time

Wolfwood and you fight a lot more

Most of the time it’s silly little arguments that you solve pretty fast

Wolfwood is bad at communicating in general. But especially when it comes to his feelings

He has really bad days sometimes, and he can get grumpy really fast these days, and one day you really piss him off

He won’t tell you what you did though, he just gives you the cold shoulder

That pisses you off because you’d so be willing to talk it out and apologize, but he won’t tell you what you did

So you’re mad now too

Things are tense between you too, and it all comes to an end on movie night when you start arguing about what movie to watch

You want to watch one of your favorite movies from your childhood and he says that it’s a stupid movie

Things get heated fast, while Vash just disappears into the background. He that the two of you need to workout your problems on your own (but he really wants to intervene)

When the tears start falling, Wolfwood immediately stops

He takes a breath, and the two of you sit down and just talk.

You talk ALL night about what happened, and what the two of you could have done better. In the end, you fall asleep on his chest while he plays with your hair.

You have movie night the next night to make up for it, and he puts the movie you wanted to watch in before you can even talk about it ( he ends up loving the movie and after that you two watch it all the time)

Id have to make an entire other thing for when Vash and Wolfwood fight because it’s no fun for anyone

NSFW stuff

After the three of you finally get past the awkward stages and start fucking, you find out these two are…horny

They’ll grab you and go to town any time

They really like to share you, but there’s no jealousy in the relationship so it’s okay for one on one time as well!

Wolfwood will pull you into steamy make out sessions whenever. He’ll do it out of nowhere. I imagine he just really likes you, and can’t get enough

He’s very handsy. He’ll constantly have his hand on your hips, or your thigh, and your waist. He likes touching you

He’s the type to sneak risqué touches in public. He like watching you struggle to not let anyone else know what he’s doing

Quickies everywhere with Wolfwood

Vash is a lot more loving (not that Wolfwood isn’t loving– he probably has cried during sex)

Vash takes his time though. He wants every moment with you to be special. He likes to do stuff like rubbing your back, and peppering kisses down your shoulders. He’ll run his hand up your shirt, and kiss your neck softly. He builds up to it

He really likes shower/bath sex. It’s intimate and relaxing

He also like when you take control (i know he’s a whimperer)

He is so bad at any type of public sex though. He gets embarrassed way too easily (and i think Wolfwood has fun with that)

When the three of you do it together it’s fucking electric

#wolfwood x reader #vash x reader #nicholas d wolfwood x reader #vash the stampede x reader #vashwood x reader #wolfwood headcanons #vash headcanons

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klaineccfanficlibrary · 5 months ago

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Looking for fics that are kind of a warbler spin off, with storylines of the warblers too not just klaine. Simillar to Dalton and Meet the Warblers. Thanks!

You could try our Warbler tag on tumblr, or I put in "Nick/Jeff Glee" as an alternative relationship, along with BA/KH as the main relationship, and 244 items came up on Ao3. I can't guarantee some other non Klaine ships are in there. ~Jen

Here are a few:

The Warbler by WhiteOwl

Kurt is a famous actor and singer who gets threatening messages and phone calls. One night his house is attacked and his manager suggests him to hire a bodyguard... Or better a whole team, the Warblers. Things just turn more complicated when Kurt finds out that the Warblers' leader is none other than Blaine Anderson, his former one-night stand.

~~~~~

Anderson Barbershop by paellaiscomplicated

AU where Kurt never visited Dalton.

Now it's December of 2016 and Kurt has graduated from NYADA. He's having trouble getting cast in anything and loses his apartment after he and Adam break up. So when he inherits an apartment in Hackensack, NJ from a great-aunt he doesn't remember meeting, he decides spending a few months cleaning the place out will give him time to regroup.

Blaine opened a barber shop and lives in Hackensack, NJ with his friends Nick and Jeff from Dalton. He's worried about making a success of his business, but not too worried to be intrigued when an attractive guy moves into the neighborhood.

Warnings for past Kurt/Adam, references to Finn Hudson's death, past Blaine/Sebastian

~~~~~

A night in the Ryerson House by @blurglesmurfklaine; @carmex; @esperantoauthor; @justgleekout; @klainetrashxx: numberone (honey_olives), @syntheticpoetry

The New Directions make a pact to spend the night in the old abandoned Ryerson house in the hopes of being blessed with good luck for Regionals. Will they make it through the night or will their hopes be dashed when they discover they are not alone in the house? ~~~~~

Crowded House by kellyb321

All of your favorite Warblers and a few new faces, too. Follow our boys as they start their lives in NYC, each couple facing their own challenges, heartbreak, self-discovery and redemption. Stick around as they realize support, acceptance and most importantly, true love can all be found in one big Crowded House. Heavy on the Klaine and Niff.

#klaine fanfiction #klaine fanfic #warblers

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mathanlin · 1 year ago

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// physical injury, emotional neglect

Actor AU where Tommy is hired as actor!Wilbur’s stunt double.

It’s the jump-start to Tommy’s career — no wonder his manager accepted without asking Tommy. Still, he’s elated.

Until he reads the script, and sees just how much pain he’s going to take.

No wonder his manager had a hundred waivers to sign. There’s fight scene after fight scene. Car crashes. Falls from heights — which makes Tommy’s gut flip at merely imagining it.

And still, meeting Wilbur almost makes him forget the fear.

Almost makes it worth it.

The first thing Wilbur does is toss a coat into Tommy’s arms.

“Gotta dress like me, right?” he says. No wonder he’s a star, that grin is brilliant. “I’ll get your wardrobe set up. Come by later, alright?”

Tommy just nods, wordless — there’s a reason he’s not the actor.

The first day of filming only solidifies that fact.

Wilbur’s on set, Tommy’s on the sidelines, manager at his side. Wilbur spits lines — a hero’s, quick & snarky. Tommy fights back a laugh at each.

And then Wilbur laughs, too. “I should probably get hit after that line, huh?”

Silence.

It’s… not in the script. Wilbur’s just improvising, they won’t— they won’t add *another* hit to Tommy’s list of injuries.

But Tommy’s manager pipes up, setting a heavy hand on Tommy’s shoulder.

“Yeah, we can do that.”

Tommy doesn’t speak. It’s not his job to.

But he still hopes that this’ll be it. The only scene Wilbur “adds his little flare to,” as his manager says — “He’s the actor. You do everything he wants. Everything.”

It’s a futile hope.

Wilbur’s relentless.

“Our character’s a right prick,” he says one day, throwing an arm around Tommy’s shoulders & grinning. “Should beat him up a lil more, huh?”

Tommy can’t mimic him. Not when he’s imagining being thrown further, hit harder, dropped from higher.

And when it’s Tommy’s turn to film, Wilbur never shows up.

A good thing. Tommy can always paste makeup over the bruises, shade his eyes from the stage lights with each concussion.

And cry when he hits the mat.

At least then it’s only his manager who mocks him.

“Come on,” they spit, as Tommy wipes blood from his nose. “Good stunt doubles don’t get hurt, Tommy. You know what you need to do?”

Tommy shakes his head, dazed by the lights. Another concussion, probably.

But he can still see his manager grin.

“Practice the falling scene.”

Tommy goes still.

“What?”

“You’ve read the script,” his manager says, eyebrow raised. “The final scene? The *most important* scene?”

*The scene where you’re thrown three stories down?*

Tommy shudders, already dizzy from terror at the thought of it. Of plummeting, smacking the unforgiving mat. Of having to jump off himself.

So his manager’s right.

He does need practice.

The set’s empty. Tommy’s alone.

That doesn’t make it easier to stare down at the mat thirty feet below.

To sway, dizzy from fear & one too many concussions. To force his feet forward, off the edge—

“Tommy?”

Tommy falls.

He— he knew he’d have to, but he’s not ready, he’s flailing, screaming, tearing through the air—

And hitting the mat shoulderfirst, head whipping to the side.

“my—Tommy, oh god, Tom—”

It’s… Wilbur, who falls at his side. Who gently picks him up from the mat as Tommy’s head spins. Who tries to haul him to the medical office, before Tommy bats his hands away.

Who rasps out, “What were you *doing,* Tommy?”

“My job?”

Wilbur stares, mouth moving silently. Like he… can’t think of what to say.

So this time, it’s Tommy who says his lines. “I— I was just practicing, Wil. I’m not *actually* hurt, that’s— that’s the whole point, right? I’m not—”

“Then why are you covered in *bruises?*”

Tommy’s gut goes right back into freefall.

He’s not wearing his coat. *Wilbur’s* coat, the one he’d given him that first day. Warm. Soft-scented.

Long-sleeved, to hide the bruises. He hadn’t thought Wilbur would be here.

He never has been.

“You actually get hit?” Wilbur says, voice hushed & shaky. “You actually fall? I thought— I thought it was for show.”

“It’s not that bad. I get hit *lightly,* it’s not like—”

“And I told them to hit you more.”

The realization is quiet.

Wilbur pulls away, shaking his head. Tommy stumbles, trying to stand with him, to get up as the lights blur—

“I need to go.”

It’s not a lie. It’s not a line.

Wilbur leaves.

(He doesn’t care. He can’t act in this role — not if it means every hit is directed Tommy’s way.

But he doesn’t fire Tommy. He doesn’t have the power to do that — but he can still stop the hits Tommy’s forced to take.

By quitting himself.)

#mcyt #dsmp #dsmp au #sbi #sbi au #threadfic #wilbur soot #tommyinnit

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abarbaricyalp · 4 months ago

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Hi! Can I hear about the Actor AU please? 😊

Oh the Actor AU, my beloathed (jk) WIP Game

This goofy story was supposed to be a 5+1 pwp that I wrote over the course of one weekend and then that did not happen. In this fic, Actor!Sam is filming an intimate scene, but keeps ruining it with various terrible o-faces because apparently he can give an Oscar worthy performance to a green screen, but he can't fake pleasure. Bucky, the director of photography for the movie (and Sam's partner), takes it upon himself to show Sam what he looks like in the throes of passion with mirrors or cameras or whatever. But even then Sam manages to close his eyes or look away or put his face in a pillow. It's a silly little light-on-the-plot story.

He peeled out of his shirt and stared at himself. Another thing he kind of hated doing. He didn’t mind watching his own movies, but actually examining himself? No thanks. Still, he trailed his hand over his chest, down his ribs and his stomach, to the waistband of his pants. As always, it sent pleasure skittering over him, like it wasn’t sure if it should sink in just yet. He used to be real good at turning himself on, but then he’d fallen into bed with Barnes and, unfortunately, nothing quite compared.

Maybe that was what the problem was. It wasn’t that he couldn’t fake an o-face. He just needed Bucky’s hands on him to do it. He wasn’t in the right mindspace to do it while he was over a woman he only half knew and liked slightly less.

With a sigh, he fell back across the bed and watched the cheap fan spin overhead, bouncing light and shadows around his room. He hated spending any time at all in a trailer. He was just contemplating turning the fan off when the door opened and Bucky noisily came inside. Sam listened to him kick off his boots and shuck off his jacket.

“You used too much soy sauce again,” he called.

“No such thing,” Sam called back.

“How come you’re still wearing pants?” Bucky asked, much closer this time.

Sam lolled his head so he could see the doorway and he gave a pleased little grin at finding Bucky there. “I know you like to unwrap me.”

Bucky rolled his eyes and came over to the bed. He kneeled down to unlace Sam’s shoes and pull them off, then his socks. He trailed kisses along Sam’s legs, over his jeans, until he had to crawl over him on the bed to keep going. Up his abdomen, his ribs, his chest, his neck. Goosebumps followed where he went.

“Hi,” Sam breathed against his mouth.

“Hi,” Bucky greeted back. “Your pants,” he prompted.

Sam quickly reached between their bodies to loosen the fastens on his pants and then kicked them away. The movement rubbed their bodies together, a tantalizing tease of friction against building desire. Bucky had dropped his head to mouth along Sam’s neck. He already knew the rules–no bruises anywhere, no excuses–and he knew exactly how far to push things before easing up. And, God, Sam couldn’t live without it.

“Why are you still dressed?” Sam asked, pulling at the hem of Bucky’s t-shirt.

“It’s not about me,” Bucky teased back, but he sat up to yank his shirt off, only slowed briefly as he untangled his prosthesis from it and threw the shirt across the room.

“Yeah, but I get off faster when I get to look at you.”

Bucky grinned down at him, an endearing quirk of his mouth to the left side of his face. “Well, if it’ll help you figure out how to make a face like you feel good and not like you’re constipated…”

“I do not look like that!” Sam objected. He sat up as well, chasing after Bucky’s mouth.

“I’m the one with the camera, baby. I zoomed in on it. Have the proof.”

“There better not be proof.”

“Gonna go in the gag reel.”

“You know what, I’ll give you something to gag on,” Sam threatened and wrestled Bucky back to the bed.

#sambucky #writing #i answer things

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deepfriedtrout · 9 months ago

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Cooking up this one modern au that wouldn't probably turn out to be something, but it is fun spinning it around my head.

bodyguard!sonetto, celebrity!vertin au.

They were childhood friends but due to life circumstances, both of them got separated, with nothing more but letters and gifts being exchanged over the years. The years go by and the correspondences grow less and distant as the two of them pursue their own careers and grow into their own persons. Sonetto turns to working as a bodyguard after realizing she's pretty good at it, Vertin works in the line of... something, i guess, feel free to throw ideas at me, that shoots her into stardom.

After years the two of them finally cross paths, in a formal reception where Sonetto's working as a bodyguard to some person and Vertin's there because she was invited. Something something they meet, catch up a little, on what's been up to them.

Then at one point Sonetto becomes Vertin's bodyguard and then after all these years she gets to know things about Vertin's life that isn't blared through the media, and somewhere along the way she kinda gets integrated into the little (massive) circle of friends and found family Vertin has picked up along the way. Everyone knows Vertin and she practically knows everyone lmao. She's the guy who knows a guy that knows a guy. Vertin also gets to know what Sonetto's been up to, and finds herself also quickly integrated into Sonetto's own circle.

Pretty fun thinking about what the other characters are doing in this world. Maybe i'll put a list here or something.

Pavia and Lilya are Sonetto's coworkers. Pavia teaches her italian/sicilian on their free time and Lilya's the one to keep nagging her to loosen up

And being coworkers for years Sonetto has been dragged to numerous gatherings courtesy of Lilya that she's a pretty common fixture in the Lilya-Druvis househould. Druvis' younger cousin Sotheby adores her.

Vertin and Sonetto were both orphans in the same orphanage, hence why they know each other.

i'm thinking the incident that takes Sonetto and Vertin away is some fuckery happening with the orphanage (cough cough constantine) causes it to be investigated and dissolved, with the orphans being sent to other ones. This is where the two part ways.

Though some time after that, Vertin gets adopted by everyone's favorite foundation parents, Miss Z and Tooth Fairy. something something the toffees Vertin sends to Sonetto on the mail is courtesy of Tooth Fairy.

Vertin Zhang-Campbell rolls of the tongue nicely.

Sonetto, unfortunately, does not get adopted and ages out of the system, but manages to get a good foothold into adulting by being... Sonetto, ever the diligent overachiever.

I need someone to give me last name ideas for her oh god

Verneider are married. The way they first met is as probably as whirlwind and chaotic as canon verneider, but less... murder and death. They have been happily married for a while : )

Feel like Schneider would be an actor. She is the embodidment of a femme fatale lmao

Anyways verschnetto endgame in my head. idk how it happens but the buildup of the three's dynamic is something like "hey my wife saw you from across the bar and we really dig your vibe. can we buy you a drink?"

I kinda want Blonney and Horropedia to be a brief fixture here. Both of them are horror afficionados that have made a name for themselves in their specific crafts (movie director and writer) and Sonetto has once bodyguarded them. She did not have a good time (had to sit through a horror-specific awarding ceremony type thing and had to listen to them talk each others ears off. she is forever traumatized.) also a scene im thinking off is that Horropedia off-handedly mentions Vertin, to which Sonetto of course focuses on, but all in all the scene goes like the one tweet about a dentist mentioning their son is captain america's actor but its Tooth Fairy and Vertin lmao

#trout talks #reverse 1999 #sonetto #vertin

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fanmoose12 · 1 year ago

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Actor AU. And everyone laughing and asking how this shoot was done cause there is no way Levi is taller than Armin and Eren. Questions about ladders and photoshops and a lot of Hange trying to prevent her co-stars characters from joining her in her retirement from the cast due to Levi.

"Have you seen this shit already?"

Levi bursts through the door of Hange's trailer like a whirlwind - a short hurricane of activity and black hair that nearly causes her to drop her phone and completely ruins the game she was playing on it.

A groan makes its way past Hange's lips - she was so close to establishing a new record! She was trying so hard to for the past few days! She almost got it! And now it's all for nothing!

She doesn't let her disappointment show, however. Neither does she express her irritation.

There is none, to be honest. At the sight of Levi in such a rattled, unusually distressed state, Hange forgets all about her silly game almost immediately.

A much more pressing and intriguing matter arises, one that requires her undivided attention.

Hange gives it freely, turning to Levi with a head slightly tilted to one side and a smile on her lips.

"Who dared to piss off my favorite midget?" she inquires.

"Don't," Levi mutters darkly. He shakes his head, jaw tightened, then throws his phone on Hange's lap.

She snatches it in her hands greadily and quickly opens it, pleased to find that Levi hasn't changed his password. He used to, many times, in hopes that he'd manage to pick the one that Hange wouldn't be able to crack. As his last desperate attempt, he set her birth date as his password. And for a while - Hange truly couldn't guess it, but ever since she finally did, Levi didn't bother to change it again. Her birth date is his password - if that's not sweet, Hang doesn't know what sweet is.

She unlocks the phone to a picture she knows too well - it is of her, Levi, Armin and Eren, the recent piece of promotional material. The picture is quite nice, if Hange can say so herself, serene and poetic in a way. She knows for a fact that Levi has seen this picute too - how could he not, when he's in it.

So why is he so angry about it now?

"Scroll down," he instructs, taking note of the lost look on her face.

Hange does as he has told, skips through nearly a dozen comments, and oh-

That is indeed quite unfortunate.

And also- absolutely hilarious. Hange has to bite the inside of her cheek to stop herself from bursting into laughter.

"I just-" Levi starts to pace around - which is quite a tedious task, considering that Hange's trailer is so tiny, it's barely four feet long. All this turning back and forth must make his head spin, Hange muses. It definitely would have made her head spin, just watching Levi does, but maybe - he's too vexed to notice. "I don't fucking understand. Why are all jokes about me? Only about me? I mean, you're right beside me. And you sure as hell aren't taller than Yeager."

"I was, once."

"Yeah," Levi deadpans. "More than five years ago."

Hange takes a deep breath, pushing down the chuckle that is nearly bubbling out of her throat. She pulls her face in as serious expression as she can manage right now and in the calmest voice that she can muster, says, "Well... maybe, it's 'cause I'm generally known for being..." she falters, searching for the correct, non-offending adjective, but Levi beats her to it, sharply turning on his heels to hiss out,

"Short?"

"Miniature," Hange blurts out, only to realize a second later that it's probably an even worse choice of words.

She winces, and Levi grimaces, but before he can explode again, she reaches out to tug at the back of his shirt and drag him closer. She gathers Levi in her arms, pulls him on her lap and snuggles to him.

"I like you just the way you are," she murmurs, wrapping arms around his slim waist. "What does it matter what idiots on Internet say?"

Levi huffs - not angry, which good, but still sulking, which is cute, as always, but not the reaction Hange was hoping for. To placate him, she kisses him in the corner of his mouth.

"Besides..." she begins in a low, sultry voice that she knows makes Levi shiver. "You know what they say about short men? My personal experience confirms it."

Snorting, Levi rolls his eyes. "You don't have that much experience, four-eyes."

"Quality over quantity, darling," she grins cheekily, earning a low, but fond grunt from Levi. "If you want, I can defend your honor," she continues, "Tell everyone the truth. That you're not small where it really matters."

Levi visibly shudders at the prospect. "Oh god, don't. You want Yeager and Kirstein to join in on this conversation? Because they will. And it will be fucking disgusting. I'm not ready for it. And the world is not ready either. And I don't want people to discuss that."

"Why not? I bet your ratings will skyrocket after that. Captain Levi will even get his own series."

"Nah," Levi waves her off, "that shit'd be boring people to death."

"Why? You don't want to explore Captain's life after the main events?"

"Why would I? It won't only be depressing as fuck, but as I've already said, boring."

"But!" Hange surges forward, nearly knocking her forehead against Levi's. "Captain is such an interesting character!"

"No, he isn't," Levi says matter-of-factly, then in a slightly softer tone and looking anywhere but at her, he adds, "Without yours anyway."

Hange's heart - as it's known to do whenever Levi's present - melts. She pecks him on the cheek, then nuzzles into his neck.

"Alright then, different plan. How about a prequel series? We can bring the old guard back! Erwin, Mike, Nanaba and Moblit! That'd be fun, no?"

"Insufferable, that's how it's going to be. You all won't be getting any shooting done, because you'd be busy trading jokes with Mike or discussing boring stuff with Erwin."

"Hmm," a smile makes its way on Hange's lips as she imagines it. "We can also explore the relationship between our characters in more details. Have nasty sex on screen, let people get a glimpse on your not so little friend."

"Four-eyes," Levi's voice is tight, strained. One would say that he's angry, exasparated with her. But Hange knows better, can see how hard he clenches his jaw to stop the laughter. "They won't ever let us do that."

Hange grins, fluttering her eyelashes. "I can be pretty persuasive..."

Levi snorts. "That shit only works on me, you know that, right?"

"Mm," Hange licks her lips, gaze falling and getting glued to Levi's mouth. "That I do know. So... how about a rehearsal?"

Levi curses when he catches just where her eyes are. But he weaves his hand into her hair and puts his mouth on hers all the same.

His kiss is deep, passionate, it leaves Hange breathless and desperate for more.

So more she gets. And rehearse they do.

#levihan

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dwell-the-brave · 6 months ago

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WIP 06/05/2024

Gasp, a new graphic!

It's a Bank Holiday Monday here in Blighty, so here's some WIP for you;

HWtC Pt 5

Alex is awake at least, when Henry comes in. Sofia has migrated into their room as well, sat in Henry’s side of the bed with the duvet over her knees, reading the Financial Times which she’s clearly stolen off Alex, who keeps trying to read the front page between her fingers. “Morning Daddy,” Sofia murmurs when she spots him, turning a page in the paper and flicking it to keep it all upright. He goes to the bed and presses a kiss to her hair, even when she tries to duck away. “Morning Poppet, Merry Christmas. No Arthur yet?” he asks Alex, who shrugs one shoulder. “Rumour has it he and Sadie were still awake at 3am,” Alex says. His side-ways glance suggests that their daughter in the rumour mill in question.

Professional dom! Alex x Actor! Henry WIP

The doorbell chimes precisely at 10am, exactly when Henry was told it would. He jumps on his barstool, the pot of Earl Grey in front of him well over-steeped now, probably bitter, but his mind is so frazzled he couldn’t - he can’t - The thought is gone. Lost to the haze of an overstimulated and overworked mind on it’s last legs. Henry reaches the front door without getting turned around in the maze of a house he only lives in six weeks out of the year, and takes a second to compose himself before opening it. He glances sideways at himself in the nearby mirror - tall, slim, dark bruised shadows under his eyes and wan skin. An expression that says he hasn’t had a good nights sleep in six months. He attempts to smooth his fine hair with one hand but that somehow just makes it look worse. With a huff, Henry gives up. He braces himself, takes a deep breath and opens the door.

Las Vegas Wedding! AU

He assesses his current state of being. He is seemingly still fully dressed in the same chinos and linen shirt combo he had been wearing yesterday. He has managed to take his shoes off, and one sock. He has a pounding headache settling in just behind his eyes, and his mouth feels like he went and licked the road on the Vegas strip, but he seems to be otherwise uninjured. He tries to remember what happened last night. It’s very rare he gets so drunk he loses time. They’d been sharing a bottle of Jack Daniels the last he could remember. Whatever happened will come back to him eventually… “Henry?” he calls, his voice like sandpaper. There is no reply. He tries again to lift his head and manages to get himself sat up, though the world takes a horrible swoop to one side. He breathes in deeply through his nose so he doesn’t hurl. Once his head and stomach have settled, he tries to stand. He doesn’t immediately fall on his face but the world spins alarmingly again. Groaning, eyes bleary, Alex slowly takes himself into the sitting room.

As always, if you like what you're reading, please check out my work on Ao3.

Until next time!

#WIP uh not Wednesday #wip #writing #red white and royal blue #my writing #current wip #alex claremont diaz #henry fox mountchristen windsor #rwrb #red white and royal blue fix #rwrb fic #firstprince #alex/henry #alex x henry

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imsparky2002 · 1 year ago

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Creepsters AU - The Creepsters

This is a spin-off AU of my Halloween Fun AU, only this time, the Creepsters are actually real. They all live together in a dark and spooky castle, and these creepy teens have grand old time scaring and killing people with their ghostly teacher, terrorizing the city of Paris.

Count Marcula - A bloodsucking creature of the night, Count Marcula hails from Transylvania and happens to be the teenaged ancestor of Marc Anciel. Loves writing terrifying tales and feasting on necks. A flamboyant, theatrical and villainous teen, compared to his more shy and kindhearted descendant. As the technically oldest teen of the group, being centuries old, he shares with them wonderfully wicked tales of his experiences. He and his best friend Phantom have a love of silks and capes, clearing dressing as elegantly as possible. Marcula wishes to turn his descendant to be a vampire like him, and to continue the Anciel vampiric legacy.

The Phantom of DuPont - A theatrical, dramatic, and terrifying phantom who haunts his old school of DuPont. Jacques Duparc was a bright young actor, clearly destined for greatness. Each of his performances in a school play were given a standing ovation. However, not everything was happy in his life. He was tormented and harassed for being in a relationship with his beloved Austine Tomassian, who just so happened to be a man. He was thankfully protected by Miss Boostier and Ghouselle, but tragedy struck when one night during a performance, Jacques and his two favorite teachers were killed by a fire, with the young actor receving horrible scars on his face as he died. When he became a ghost, he and his maternal figures decided to give into their previous love of scares, and haunted the school, with Jacques now known as the Phantom of the Opera. He mainly lives in the castle, but has a second home in DuPont, lurking in the sewers, playing the pipe organ, and striking fear into the hearts of students, including Jean, his ancestor. He looks after the theater, making sure what goes on inside the building is to his liking. It’s a good thing his beloved Austine is still with him as a ghost.

GhostRose - A sadistic killer who was obsessed with emulating everything about her sister, Thorn, and was sent to a “counseling camp” after stabbing a bunch of her classmates to death. Rose managed to escape, meeting her lovely JV along the way, and they spread carnage wherever they went. She’s known for her long dark robe, ghoulish white mask, and long sharp knife. Loves scary movies, and calling her victims on the phone. She and JV were happy when the other Creepsters found a spell to make the two of them immortal like themselves. Now they can haunt and murder for all of eternity. Hates it when people break the rules of her deadly games, and when you hang up on her.

JV - A childish serial killer, known for her hockey mask and machete. Juleka Voorhees and her twin brother Luka were troubled children. JV had shown signs of psychopathy from a young age. A love of murder that started with small animals and made it’s way to people. Luka had shown a devotion to the occult, and had begun murdering in the name of Satan. Eventually, Anarka Voorhees sent her children to Camp Healing Hands, leaving them behind to never return. They disappeared immediately, with JV becoming feared throughout the camp as a hockey-mask wearing maniac who brutally killed campers who came to her abandoned cabin near the lake. She was overjoyed to meet GhostRose when they were both 12, and they began a lovely relationship. Now that they’ve met their other creepsters, and became immortal, they’ll be able to spread carnage for all of eternity. What’s more romantic than that?

Austine - The ghostly lover of the Phantom. Compared to the others spectres, he looks just the same as he did when he was alive, and prefers not to spook people. Not out of the kindness of his heart, but because he’d rather just assist the Phantom on his scares. Shares a love of the theatre with Jacques, and students can still hear Austine singing opera pieces on stage at times. Was bullied by other boys for wearing dresses, but he got the last laugh, as they would face an early demise at the hands of the Phantom.

Nathfield - A mad artist who was turned into a vampire by his beloved Count Marcula. He’s been with his boyfriend for centuries, loving every second of immortality, as he always gets to create horrific artistic masterpieces, using the blood of his victims as paint. His favorite food to eat are bugs, and Marcula loves to feed him cockroaches that crawl in the dungeon. He is the ancestor of Nathaniel Kurtzberg, and as with Marcula, is trying to get the artistic boy to become a vampire like him.

Miss Boostier - The spooky spectre that happily teaches her creepsters about ways to scare and kill people. Her and Ghouselle help the Phantom to haunt DuPont. Caline Bustier’s ancestor who served as a teacher of history, poetry, and English at DuPont, with Jacques being her favorite student. Unlike The Phantom, her ghostly appearance is similar to a bedsheet. She and Ghouselle always moan and groan when they talk.

Ghouselle - The giggling ghoulish wife of Miss Boostier. She was the science teacher of DuPont, and Jacques saw her and Boostier as his maternal figures. She and Boostier died trying to save him from the fire. Now the couple happily look after the creepsters, with her teaching them all about scientific ways of spooking. Known for her chilling laugh, ghoulish grin, eerie green robe, and rustling chains. Her and Miss Boostier love to frighten the creepsters, who enjoy to be scared. They are also very soft with each other, happily wooing to each other and cuddling while out on a nice roam of the school.

Maestro - JV’s twin brother. A gifted yet sinister musician who was infatuated with the Devil and all things occult. He killed and sacrificed dozens to the Dark Lord of Satan. At 13, he made a deal with Satan to become a demon in exchange for his soul (not that he had much of one to begin with). Now he happily serves his master as a demonic maestro, shredding on the guitar and making music to control his army of darkness. Loves his twin sister dearly, and always assists her in kills. Marinette can’t find herself attracted to blue-haired teen demon, lurking in the shadows with his hooded black cloak, and asking for her soul.

And there you have these terrifying teens and their spooky teachers ready to haunt Paris. Let me know what you think in the replies, asks, posts, and reblogs, because the characters will be similar to the Haunted House AU, in which it’s all a performance. @artzychic27 @msweebyness

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hihimissamericanbi · 2 years ago

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Moulin Rouge x Wolfstar AU

Alright I couldn't find a complete Moulin Rouge x Wolfstar AU on AO3 SO I'M CALLNG DIBS. I'm gonna do it. Here's a snippet/preview/thingie. God I really am shouting into the void here.

It’s the turn of the 20th century, and artists of every disciple and creed have flocked to the very vanguard of all things nouveau: Montmarte, that city upon a hill indeed. Musicians, writers, actors, painters—they gather in brothels, dance in cabarets, smoke outside cafes and argue over balconies beneath the beaming Parisian sun, ignoring with the stubbornness of the French the biting spring winds whipping March into April. Remus joins in the fray, giddily anticipating a penniless existence spent waxing lyrical the bohemian ideals of freedom, beauty, truth and love.

However, upon setting his typewriter amongst a ramshackle bedsit located off la Rue Garreau, with mice sharing his day-old bread and water of suspicious origin dripping through the plastered ceiling, Remus encounters an unforeseen obstacle in his quest:

“I’ve never been in love.”

Before he has a moment longer to ponder this predicament, a tremendous crash sounds as an entire human comes tumbling through the ceiling, caught and suspended upside down by a complicated system of ropes.

Remus looks upon the dangling person, all messy blonde hair and tangled limbs, with mild curiosity.

“Hello, how may I help you?” he asks politely. Remus may be on French soil, but he is determined not to leave his English manners on the other side of the channel.

“Ah! Pardon, Monsieur! Please accept our sincerest apologies!” echoes a booming if frantic voice from the vicinity of the floor above.

Remus stands and goes to help the dangling human, looking up into said human-shaped hole in his ceiling, to find several curious faces peering back down upon him; the one with scruffy black hair and spectacles flashes a criminally white smile, bright against his caramel complexion.

“Ah! Bonjour, Monsieur!” Specs booms. “I see you have met our Marlene!”

As if on cue, Marlene, still hanging upside down, spins slowly around to meet Remus’s eyes. Her face—as fair as her hair—has grown tomato red with the blood rush, but she too maintains her composure as she struggles to extend an ensnared hand to her new host.

“Pleasure, I’m sure,” she purrs.

Without preamble, Specs jumps through the hole in the ceiling and slides down one of the ropes suspending Marlene, launching himself to his feet in front of Remus. Marlene yelps and swings ever more violently with the sudden momentum.

“I am James Fleamont Potter,” Specs announces proudly as he straightens, gesturing grandly and ignoring Marlene’s protestations behind him.

Mouth agape, Remus looks up just in time to see a beautiful person with ebony skin, a shaved head and ears full of shining metal shrug in nonchalance before gracefully leaping straight from the floor above, landing crouched and catlike next to James. They stand, tall and lithe, to level Remus with cool regard. An elegant hand, also heavily beringed, shoots out to steady Marlene, who is now a distinctive shade of maroon.

“Steady on there, love,” they murmur. Despite her already highly flushed cheeks, Marlene somehow still manages to blush even deeper.

“Dorcas,” the tall person says to Remus by way of an introduction.

“Um, perhaps we should—” Remus gestures to the swaying blonde upside down in the middle of his room whose face is rapidly nearing eggplant purple.

“Right you are, Monsieur!” James, still grinning with delight, removes a six-inch bowie knife from his belt and twirls it handily before slashing Marlene free with a single backhanded swipe. Chaos, Remus thinks. This man is chaos.

Dorcas neatly catches Marlene before she hits the ground, cradling her bridal style; they clear their throat as they hastily tip Marlene onto her own two feet. All three newcomers straighten to face their very bemused and rather horrified host.

“That’s IT!” a fourth person screeches from the room above. Remus looks up one final time to see a man in full makeup toss his hands in indignation. “I simply cannot work under these conditions anymore, Potter!”

“Caradoc, wait—” James has his head tilted comically upward, the other bloke’s own head now shoved downward over the lip of the hole. Remus’s mouth twitches.

“No Potter! This is the last straw! How am I supposed to write with that absolute oaf—” Marlene bristles and Dorcas’s eyes narrow threateningly. They place a protective arm around Marlene. “—mucking up every single rehearsal we attempt?! I am simply finished!”

With that, Caradoc stands, disappearing from view, and stomps to what Remus assumes is the door to the apartment. He is proven correct when he hears it swing open and then slam violently shut.

Caradoc’s footsteps echo ominously as he descends the stairs, crescendoing when they reach Remus’s floor and then fading away till the only sound that remains is the stilted breathing of four people all crowded around the foot of Remus’s musty bed.

“So, Monsieur,” James, though panting a bit, still has that goofy smile fixed firmly on his face. “You wouldn’t happen to know any writers, hm?”

(yes this Dorcas is deffo inspired by Keysie's smoking hot Dorcas in TML go read it) @lostmykeysie

#moulin rouge x wolfstar #moulin rouge au #moulin rouge #wolfstar #marauders #moulin rouge x marauders #they/them dorcas meadowes supremacy

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fr8les · 4 years ago

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Junhoon Actor/manager au spin-off

(if you didn't know this au, please click the link on the above)

✨

Fem!jun asked jihoon someone he liked when she already knew but jihoon just...

Ft. angry fem!soonyoung

Eng ver.

INA ver.

I got permission from the author to post this. Thank you for allow me to post this 😊

✨

Credits.

Original AU by : transit (dollyeo)

You can look author's series in here. Pairing: soonwoo and junhoon. The author posted it on AO3 ^^

Spin-off and fanart by me.

I also posted it in Twitter.

✨

#seventeen #seventeen fanart #woozi #lee jihoon #jun #wen junhui #moon junhwi #junhoon #actor/manager au by transit (dollyeo)#actor/manager au spin-off #fr8les fanart #please also look at author's works #gender bender #fem!jun #fem!soonyoung #hoshi #kwon soonyoung

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markresonates · 3 years ago

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that ‘90s show

summary: You wish you would’ve known that Jaemin was the lead actor of Netflix's new twist on That ‘70s Show before being hired as a production assistant. Now, it’s either quit your job or suck it up [update: i literally predicted the future that netflix would make that ‘90s show into a real thing]

pairing: actor!Jaemin x pa fem!reader

genre: porn with plot, lil angst, fluff

au/tropes: childhood friends to coworker enemies to lovers

word count: +8.1k words

for the 90's Love collab!

warnings: unprotected sex, creampie, oral (fem receiving), masturbation, fingering, kinda public, light manhandling, princess pet name, soft dom!Jaemin, sub!reader

“Hey, you!” the demanding production coordinator flicks his chin at the kraft services tables. “Get over here, PA, uh- what’s your name again?”

You lower the half-eaten sandwich from your mouth, immediately wrapping up your only source of nutrients within the past 17 hours. Tucking the catered food into your bulky bag, you start, “Oh, my name is-”

“Nevermind! It doesn’t matter. Go find Jaemin ASAP. The director wants a retake of the high spinning shot that Haechan screwed up yesterday,” he barks.

He points to the sole glimmer of golden evening light peeping through the narrowly parted door of the darkened film studio. If it was any other chore, you would readily slip through that bright sliver of freedom without second thought, accepting your free, one way ticket out of here and off the clock earlier than usual. Your long, exhausting work week would be over in another thirty minutes anyway. But no matter the level of exertion required from you daily, this certain task is harder than every chore you have faced within the last five days.

It would be worlds easier if it didn’t involve facing him: world famous actor, and ex classmate of yours, Na Jaemin.

Upon overhearing the shrill orders from your overbearing superior, Haechan stomps over to the show’s director to protest the perfectionist’s decision. “Mark, that scene was fine!” the actor whines.

No matter the context, hearing the over dramatic co-star whine, especially to the prodigy director, always brings the corners of your mouth to prick up in amusement. Suffice to say, you routinely suppress a tiny smile when your duties overlap with his scenes.

Whereas some might crack under the pressure of working as a PA for a major film studio, you take pride in the fact that you have always caught on quickly to any new responsibilities that come your way. This particular show consists of a majority of repetitive chores that range from small, trivial errands to ones that require a certain level of experience to keep the production running smoothly. Even if you lack in the lengthy experience that is typically expected of a PA for this scale of a production, you have a knack for these kinds of things, proven by the fact that you spent a total of 16 hours getting into the swing of things on the streaming services’ set on your first day. Being raised with high expectations, you eventually adopted that mentality as well. You showed up bright and early that morning, mind set that there was no challenge too big and no task too difficult.

Wait, no, that’s not true.

There is still one thing, or should you say one person, that contradicts that assertion.

Someone you have avoided like the plague since the second you stepped onto the film lot, a formidable challenge you would rather imagine is nonexistent for peace of mind. At the very least, you managed to steer clear of facing the dreadful inevitable for two weeks, an impressive feat if you do say so yourself. That is, if you leave out the 5 seconds it will take you to inform Jaemin that he is needed on set again. What a pity that the speakers routinely used for calling actors or crew to whichever studio they belonged just happened to be busted today.

The film production for Netflix's reboot of That ‘70s Show, retitled That ‘90s Show, kicked off two weeks ago. The writers modified the development of the show, moving the plot in a different, more practical direction that is tailored to the more recent era. Coincidentally, the first rendition’s creation was two decades after its own production, a quality that it has in common with That ‘90s Show, being that it is also two decades away from its period.

The dog of an actor you have been given orders to fetch plays the lead of the television program's revival. In this rendition, the main character is nowhere near as nerdy. Admittedly, you had not watched the show much yourself, but you knew that his role was drastically changed and rewritten with way more likeable qualities this time around. You hate to say it but you intentionally peeked over the shoulders of the film crew doing playbacks on their camera screen. Based on the scenes you caught a glimpse of, to deny that his character has a cute yet cool likeability would be flat out lying. It almost reminds you of high school actually.

You struggle to tune out the comedic banter between the eccentric actor and the show’s director. “I’m sorry, but which department is he in again?”

He scoffs at your novice question. “God, do I have to spell it out for you? I don’t know where he is! That’s why I said find…” He plucks a walkie talkie from his utility belt and yells strict instructions into the device abused by his booming voice regularly. He looks back to you, spotting your eyes locked on the celebrities behind him. “What are you still doing here? Do your job!”

You finally tear your eyes away from where Haechan has modified his approach to pestering Mark. He attacks him with a nauseating cuteness that Mark loathes more than the petty complaints he was receiving prior. (If someone was smart, they would give the entertaining soulmates their own sitcom)

“Okay, got it,” you reply with a head nod of confirmation. Pivoting on your heels, you head towards the dim-lit, neon red exit sign with purpose. You're only a mere five steps out the door before your elbow is caught by someone you failed to notice was on your tail. Spinning around, you meet the bright eyes of the charismatic actor you were just watching berate the director.

Since the second day of the production, Haechan has quickly grown to be a close, trustworthy friend of yours. He'd stopped by your side as you rushed to the makeup department, curious about whether you two had met before since you looked so familiar, to which you said no. You sure are glad you did though. It is one of those friendships that makes you feel like you have known each other since you were in the first grade, kind of like how it was with Jaemin in reality. The difference between Haechan and Jaemin is that you feel comfortable around the former as well, while your skin crawls being within close proximity of the latter. You feel lucky that Jaemin has not spotted you any of the times he showed up unannounced in some room you occupied, and even luckier that he was distracted long enough to give you the opportunity to slink towards an exit and out the door.

“Hey, y/n! I’m glad I caught you!” Haechan greets you, releasing your elbow and walking alongside you a few paces until you stop in your tracks. “Wait, are you heading home early right now?”

“Well I’m kind of heading home early. I just need to find Jaemin first because they need him back on set.. wait, you already knew that.” You impulsively express annoyance saying his name out loud.

To the perceptive, amateur detective, it’s hard to miss the way your tone of voice exchanges an even tempered one to a bitter sound at the last part of your statement. He also takes note of the fact that you’re awkwardly shifting your weight back and forth on your feet. You adjust your overfilled bag’s canvas strap, only now sensing how it is painfully digging into your shoulder.

“Hm, if I didn’t know any better, I would say you sound annoyed," Haechan theorizes with skepticism, squinting his eyes at you. “sooo is it that you can’t go home right away or because you have to see Jaemin right now? Because I know you’d never be annoyed with me,” Haechan states boldly. He flutters his eyes at you, clasping his hands together and lightly twisting back and forth.

You pause and stare at his feet, focusing on the tiny details of his high-end, expensive shoes that could cover at least one months rent of your dingy, yet overpriced, apartment. Mulling over your response to your cheeky friend, you lay out the options in your head: in one corner, you have lying to him, meaning there is no potential for possibly drawing a rift between the cast members. And in the other corner, you have confiding in Haechan about what happened between you two, gaining a scout that could warn you if he sees the opposition coming near or if you need a pair of ears to vent to about built up frustration from dealing with Jaemin. You’re very much aware you’ll have to deal with him the remainder of this job but having Haechan by your side would ease the agitated mood you’re bound to be in sometimes. Or all the time, depending on how often he will "accidentally" run into you after knowing you are working together.

In the three seconds you spend in silence, option two wins over the mental fight within your mind. “Okay, well, uh, I’m actually going to be honest, and tell you-”

“Haechan, get back in here!” an impatient voice shrieks from inside.

Haechan sticks his tongue into his cheek and rolls his eyes, head twitching close to his shoulder on impulse. “Hey, tell me that thing later, okay!” He squeezes your hand before turning away, and disappearing into the shadowy doorway of the comedy studio.

All jokes aside, you’re grateful for your tiring job. It’s demanding, draining, and time consuming, but your job gives you purpose, a quality that all humans search for in their lives but few feel they truly find. Although you believed your life had a different purpose when you were little. Your heart was cold set on becoming a famous actress. The first acting role you landed was at age 5. You were the cute, little organic juice box girl that played on every tv screen for years after you shot your last advertisement with them. Another handful of minor jobs followed that one until you found yourself being picked up early from school at a minimum of once a week. Your mom would pull up in front of the school in a hurry, rush into the office to collect her prized doll and zoom over to whatever studio or location you were scheduled for that day. Before she showed up, you were often forced to wait on the rickety, wooden office bench with the other child actor/model at your school. He would reside on one side of the bench while you made sure to take the far opposite. You sat on your hands and swung your feet to pass the grueling time you spent next to him.

This boy was quiet and well mannered at first glance. He was thought of as an angel, and in the eyes of every adult figure, he could do no wrong. But you knew better. Unfortunately, before that point, you had to learn that lesson the hard way on the second day of school in the first grade. Your mom dressed you in the most glittery lavender dress she could find because “first impressions are everything” even for the second day. You did not care much for the expensive article of clothing. Nonetheless you knew it meant the world to her, and therefore keeping it as pretty and stain-free as the condition it was in when she let go of your hand that morning was one of your top priorities. Your instructions were clear: No playing during your recess or lunch break. No sitting on the gray, concrete ground. No fiddling with the shiny hem line. And certainly no juice box drinking of your own. It did not matter in the slightest that it was your favorite beverage in the world, you were forbidden from drinking the grape juice that your face belonged to; it was a warning that you could not take lightly.

The person who had absolutely no problem drinking the juice in front of your eyes was your seat partner, the adorable boy you speculated you would eventually develop a crush on because of how cute he was. You easily made friends with the relatively shy boy on the first day but you could not say the same for the next one. You side eyed your seat partner as he toyed with the squeaky straw poked through the top. He offered you a sip, leaning towards you, holding out the waxy cardboard box so that the yellow straw was near enough to your mouth. He was trying to be nice but any attempts at niceties went down the drain when the juice squirted down the front of your dress. And that night, as you stood in the center of the living room receiving a loud, stern earful, that is when you decided you hated Na Jaemin. Whereas he kept acting long after high school, you chose to continue on with your education. There came a time after graduation when the frequency of your rambling on and on about your childhood dream of becoming a big time actress progressively shortened and came to a stand still.

There was no big epiphany when you wholeheartedly felt your dream change. There were no dramatic “I’VE CONNECTED THE TWO DOTS” moments, nor was there a stereotypical leaping up from your swivel chair with wide eyes screaming, “Ah-HA!” in revelation.

But what did happen was the cinematic, groundbreaking, coming of age movie scene where the devastated parental figure goes

“But you’re giving up on your dream...”

followed by you reciting

“...no, mom… I'm giving up on your dream.”

The intense, glowing allure of performing in front of the camera eclipsed silently within your consciousness, dimming a once fierce desire to become a recognizable, shining star. No longer was your success measured by on screen showbiz fame, nevertheless that did not mean some relation to the entertainment industry was not at the forefront of your ambitions. Your new life goal related to the happenings behind the camera.

Setting your sights on becoming a director or producer, you determined the best course of action was climbing up the production ladder and learning the ropes of all there is to accomplishing your new dreams in this field. You nearly screamed when you heard you landed this job because it meant you were just one step closer to the successful light at the end of the tunnel. You often scribbled notes down in a notebook that you carried around with you at all times so you would not forget some new technique that came up during your access to high quality production management. You wanted to know the ins and the outs of masterful cinema creation and that notebook's crumpled yellowing pages held the key to your dream. Admittedly though, you have been writing out your frustrations about working with Jaemin in the back pages at the very back.

Nearly 75% of the day you attend to numerous tasks and run errands, like this present messenger pigeon one that you despise. On top of rushing around a bustling set and suffering through your tiring job, you have grown accustomed to dealing with sleep deprivation after staying up late to attend university part time through online classes.

Every now and then a few doubts swirl in the depths of your brain. Doubts over whether you made the right decision to follow this particular path behind the scenes, rather than the glitz of stardom that you so desperately wanted before. Sneaky doubts peep through the fractured slender cracks of the semi transparent glass barrier encapsulating the realm of fantasy you lived in throughout your childhood.

It does not help that you are exposed to that grandeur of the entertainment industry on a daily basis. You still feel some sort of draw to the life of the glamorous actors you have met (or seen in passing) through your job as a set production assistant or child actor. A piece of your heart will always belong to your childhood dream of being the center of the eccentric, high quality film sets with authentic, replicated props, going into the hair and makeup trailers for hours upon hours of styling sometimes before finally being called to the stage for your important scenes, because, after all, they would have rewritten the script so you could be the main character in tv shows like That ‘90s Show. Not Jaemin.

You search for the real main character, starting with the makeup department, followed by hair, and then his personal, luxury trailer. His trailer radiates an opulence you had never witnessed before and you need to physically pinch yourself to bring you out of the life-like day dream of owning this trailer or spending time in such a place. You remind yourself that this is not the life you chose and carry on. Stepping out of the trailer, you continue along with the urgent search, only for your efforts to turn up futile. His whereabouts are a complete and utter misery. It was foolish to think you would get off work earlier than usual. There is nearly no other place he could be except for the wardrobe building on the furthest outskirts of the film lot.

Because this chore just had to be the type that takes up a ton of time and extends your work for the better part of an hour.

Arriving at the old building, nearly all your might is thrown into pushing the wardrobe department’s notoriously heavy door open. You're shocked by how little effort is needed from you to open the thick metal door. The door swings open twice as fast as any of your other confrontations with it. The force you put behind your determined action drives your body forward, smashing into the fit frame of the person that was pulling the door open at the same time you were pushing inward. Your body presses to his firmly as you trip over your feet. He grips one of your forearms to deter further stumbling while the other lightly feathers over your hip. Although, gravity has other plans.

You can’t help but let out twin pairs of high pitched yelps upon impact with his body. One is slightly pained then another out of surprise as you both tip over backwards and timber to the dusty, navy carpeting that has yet to be cleaned for about a half century. It is not so much a physical pain that draws out the noise from you. Obviously, he is the one that physically landed on the dirty ground. The accident plays out in a flash, but time feels like it moves in slow motion to you. His left hand loops around your back, sliding from where it rested lightly on your right hip to tightly squeezing your waist protectively. His other arm whipped towards the floor to brace the fall in any way possible. The pained grunt he makes is justifiably louder than yours since he softens your blow.

You both lay there for a split second, huffing loudly. A moment later he speaks before you can scramble off of him. “Woah, are you alright?” the handsome actor questions, genuine concern behind his words and ignorant to whom is pressed against his body. “Are you hurt? I’m really sorry about that!”

You are stunned momentarily, eyes bulging out of your head and heartbeat racing like an olympic track athlete. Blinking back into reality, you respond with hostility, “No, thanks. I’m fine, just a bit of pain, but don’t worry about it!”

Pulling away from his embrace takes massive self control, but the scenario is too awkward for you to put up with it any longer. You force yourself to hop off of him.

He clears his throat as your body leaves his touch, holding direct eye contact with you for a handful of seconds before he gets to his feet. Surveying the eccentric costume hats hanging above the door frame he finally looks down to you again. “Did you need something in here?” he shifts to the side, widening the pathway through the maze of decades-old costumes. “Wait, do I know you? Sorry if I've forgotten your name.”

“Ugh, you’re joking, right?” you scoff, crossing your arms.

There’s no way in hell he could forget about you. Maybe if you spilled some sticky beverage down his front it would jog his memory.

“Am I supposed to know who you are?” Jaemin scrunches his eyebrows together. His tongue swipes over his bottom lip subtly, looking you up and down with hooded eyes in a way that warms your skin to the point where it's nearly sizzling on a hot skillet.

You click your tongue. “What the fu-! You know what? I don’t want to do this right now. You need to go back for reshoots and I need sleep.” You bend down to collect your bag that had fallen and the handful of junk that has tumbled from its open mouth.

Jaemin sighs deeply. “I really thought I was done today.” Lowering to his knees without question, he helps you scoop the clutter back into your worn out, canvas bag where it belongs.

“I don’t need your help, Jaemin,” you grumble. "I can do things alone."

“I know,” he replies simply, "but just because you can doesn't mean you always have to."

Just when you think he was trying to be nice, like the sweet, kind little boy you met on the first day of school, the illusion shatters. “Why did you have to come get me yourself? Are you a fan who wanted to meet me or something?” he speculates with a cheeky grin and a wink.

“Yeah, you wish,” you snort, rolling your eyes. “The intercom is broken so they sent me.”

His picture perfect pearly whites shine on full display hearing you relay the technological information. “Well I'm glad it was you.”

The only thing that really catches his attention is the thick, wrinkled notebook with crumpled pages sticking out from its sides. The object of his interest has seams that are noticeably worn in from all the times it has been opened and presumably written in frantically. He plucks your treasured, tattered journal that you take notes in from the middle of the scattered belongings.

“What’s this?” Jaemin inquires with a mischievous smirk, tracing his thumb lightly down the spine. "Do you have any diary entries from high school about m-" He begins to open it, driving you to lunge for the treasured item and protect your private writing. The notebook ends up in your grasp at the cost of knocking him to the ground again, this time landing nearly flat on his back and knocking the wind out of him.

He grips his chest as he sputters and coughs, eyes bulging out of his head from the limited influx of oxygen. Standing up immediately, you place the book in the wide pocket of your bag that it typically resides in. Decades old dust clings to both of your clothes and you realize he will have to go through hair and makeup again for touch ups before he can shoot.

“Here,” you sigh, offer him your hand, feeling semi apologetic for knocking him over.

His gentle hand clasps yours and smoothly rises from the floor. He does not let go of you for a second longer after returning to an upright stance. You curse your active imagination for picturing his hands running over every crevice of your body and then in between your legs, finding your dripping arousal. Coming out of that unwanted intrusion of dirty thoughts, you yank your hand away when it becomes apparent he has no intention of releasing his grip willingly. “Thank you, princess.”

You return to the outside, relieved to find that the crisp air calms your warm body temperature slightly. “I’m not your princess.”

“NA JAEMIN TO STAGE 7, NA JAEMIN TO STAGE 7” roars across the lot, the words cranked up to a volume that is always amplified so loudly that no matter where you were, it would reach your ear. And if some unfortunate fool were to be standing directly underneath one of those blaring speakers (like you and Jaemin happen to be) then that voice would hit their eardrums like a powerful wave they didn’t see coming as they wadded in the beaches’ shallow water, unbeknownst to what was coming for them.

“I thought those were broken!” he yells without detecting how loud his voice is momentarily.

“They were before!”

“Nuh-uh, it sounds like you were using that as an excuse to come see me, right? How cute,” he coos with a pout.

You click your tongue and swing your deep bag onto your shoulder. “Shut the fuck up and just go already.”

He watches you walk away from him. He can read an exhaustion in your step from working so diligently on set, which gains you a few more points of respect in his eyes.

“I’ll see you next week, princess!”

“Okay, spill. Every detail, let's go,” Haechan urges. He sits forward in his chair, on the edge of his seat for the odyssey of a backstory he expects out of your experiences with the fellow actor. "I can't believe it took you this long to finally tell me."

“Every detail is way too much,” you groan, sinking deeper into the cushiony lounge couch built into Haechan’s personal trailer. “You’ll just have to settle for the summary-ish version, okay?”

You give him a rundown through the first time you met, the juice incident, and the grueling bench sharing occasions.

"So that's where I recognized you from! You were in ads and stuff!"

"Yes, that's the reason," you snicker along with his wide-eyed revelation. "Can I finish my story?"

He crosses his legs with haste and gestures with his hand as if saying "proceed"

Through the rest of your schooling, the roots of rivalry between you and Jaemin grew deeper. It was always about who was getting the most roles? Who was an extra in the most watched television shows? Who had worked with the most famous actors? Eventually that translated into who was missing the most school due to busy filming schedules?

He was the cool guy that every girl wanted to date at your performing arts high school because “he’s sensitive, sweet, hot, and talented” (and it didn’t hurt that he had already started his acting career and starred in movies with small roles, potentially giving them the opportunity to walk on the red carpet as a date). Who wouldn’t want a boyfriend like that? He would be the kind that is guaranteed to treat you like a princess because he is a prince all on his own.

A highly desired prince with dashing looks who had never gone out of his way to talk to any girl- they always came to him, and he was highly selective. Your high school experience was not too far from the way guys nearly worshipped you too. The only times you two crossed paths was in your acting classes and there was hardly any interaction between you two. For the most part the rivalry was unspoken, save for the snarky comments and taunting that was exchanged at a maximum of once a month. They were brief but long enough for your classmates to pay attention to and gossip about for the next week.

When it came to romantic matters, you and Jaemin had the same mentality: why spend your energy on someone that is

1. going to take time away from your acting careers and

2. not going to matter after high school.

You were both aware that relationships rarely last after graduation, so what was the point in having anything other than flings?

You also knew that the other shared the same logic… which is why there was a silent agreement that fucking in Jaemin's car meant nothing.

It only felt good and that was it. It was a one time thing the night after you graduated. And you could not dream of a better way to celebrate the end than to fuck your parallel equal under the stars. That is what you thought at the time. When he completely ghosted, you deeply regretted ever hopping in his car and riding him in the cramped back seat.

It only hurt a little bit when he said he didn’t remember you.

(lies)

It only stung a tiny bit that you weren’t memorable enough when it hasn’t even been that long since he was filling you up with his length and thrusting deep inside you at the most perfect pace. Apparently it didn’t matter when you swallowed his cock and he said your mouth was the best and prettiest he’s ever kissed and fucked hard and rough.

You wish it didn't matter to you too.

“After all of that, and he didn’t even remember you at all?!” Haechan yells.

“It’s whatever, seriously. He was joking when he said that just to fuck with me.” You would put money on the theory that Jaemin said that to push your buttons like you cared if he considered you a "has been" actress.

"dAamN," Mark squeaks under his breath.

You gasp, whipping your head around to see the director peeking his head around the corner of the trailer's entry way.

“MMMark!” Haechan scolds.

“wHaaT!? You left your door, like, wide open and I was coming to get you anyway but I didn’t want to interrupt!” He throws his hands up. Walking up the short set of stairs into the mini-room, he sits next to the actor. “I’m sorry for, um, overhearing-”

“Eavesdropping!” Haechan snaps, nudging his shoulder

"Yes," Mark grinds his teeth, “eavesdropping. I’m sorry about that, y/n.”

"It's no big deal, I guess. I’m just surprised you know my name…” you awkwardly laugh lightly.

You do not expect him to laugh harder than you do at your completely unfunny comment. Your authentic laugh harmonizes with his adorable cackling until he calms. “So, like, what are you gonna do now?”

"Well, I've been trying to avoid him but he mostly finds a way to get to me? It's not always bad per say, although it can be pretty annoying," you confess. You are not looking for sympathy although you gladly accept it when someone extends it to you.

“Yo, don’t worry 'bout it man, I gotchu," Mark states, shaking your hand out of nowhere. "I’ll try my best to make sure you have your space, like, somehow I'll do it… "

A warm smile spreads on your lips hearing his considerate response. "Thank y-"

"wait, but, um, except for, like, n-next week...”

“W-what’s next week?” you ask apprehensively. You exchange worried looks with Haechan.

“Uh, so there’s this thing, riGghT? And you’re not gonna like it…”

“Yeah right,” Jaemin taunts, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. "You love being around me, princess. Just admit it." He puckers his lips teasingly.

You poke at his chest aggressively. “What, you think I volunteered to spend time with you alone in a small space for multiple hours? There’s no way in hell I would want to do this by my own choice.”

“Then quit! No one’s forcing you to fill in for the sick actress who goes on a date with me in the show. Then you wouldn’t have to be running lines with me tonight!”

You let out an exhausted sigh. “Mark asked me to and I just, I don't know… I don’t want to give up on an opportunity to work on a big show like this.” You hoist yourself up to take a seat on the edge of his trailer’s table.

Leaning back against a cabinet in front parallel to your position on the table, he sticks his hands into the pockets of his grey adidas joggers. “I didn’t know this meant so much to you.” he says sincerely, an apologetic tone just beneath his words in place of the narcissistic one.

You loll your head back. Holding the edges of the table on either side you hesitantly reply, "Yeah, it really does. I want this. And I'm not quitting just because you're a pain in the ass." You tilt back, shifting the weight onto your hands and lolling your head back. Holding the edges of the table on either side secures you in place. The black, plastic ceiling of the portable living space is sleek and reflective, making it so that you can clearly see yourself staring straight up and Jaemin staring straight through the protective shell you encased yourself in after being hurt before. As you think about all the things you have wanted over the years, you shut your eyes.

When you were little, you wanted to play with the other kids, get dirty and scrape your knees, try out for sports and be on some kind of team. You wanted to act, or at least you thought you did. But when you stopped going to school with Jaemin, and you graduated out of high school, it felt like there was nothing motivating you to keep it up. The most important lesson you learned at that school was never let your guard down. Whereas that rule stemmed from your hatred of the guy standing in front of you, it was harder to hate him now.

Yes, he has been teasing you the past month, making his coffee orders extremely specific, intentionally not coming to set because he wants you to come get him personally, calling you princess because he knows it annoys you and a whole host of other things; and yes, he pushes your buttons and has gotten on your nerves to the point where you have stormed off thrice, but he has also done you favors, some without even asking, and gone out of his way to make you smile and laugh no matter the circumstances. He is a lot dorkier than you previously thought, regularly making silly faces and doing funny voices at random. You have observed how he is predictably unpredictable when it comes to a chunk of scenarios and how comfortable he feels in them but that there are a handful of habits that are set in stone.

The day after you slept together, you woke up and made up your mind to throw your “men are trash and aren’t worth your time” policy in the bin. The hot and steamy night that he managed to roughly ravish you while also treating you like an angel was followed by him unexpectedly opening the sunroof above your heads in the back seat of his car. You thanked the heavens that he happened to have a blanket in his trunk for you to wrap yourselves inside it. The cherry colored, polyester blanket covered your bodies while you snuggled into the warmth of his naked body. You don’t know how it came up or why you felt like you could trust him with personal subjects, but you both talked about the little things you hadn't told anyone in your lives. Confiding in the other about the secrets, the unpopular opinions you were afraid to share with anyone else, the awkward situations you experienced and have never spoken of out loud.

You made up this fantasy in your head that you had a connection with him, one you had never considered because you had been pitted against each other since the time you had learned to write your names. Being so young in an industry that was meant for adults, Jaemin understood what it was like to feel so alone and nearly empty at times. You had to grow up at the speed of light because you were expected to have such a high level of maturity. Your childhoods were swept out from under your feet falling into careers that corrupted your youth. There is no way to get that time back but you feel something warm in your heart when you're with him, spilling the precious, guarded details of your life as you're securely held in his arms with care.

The warmth spread through your veins, reaching your fingertips. It was an affectionate tingling in your bones that made you feel like you wanted him in every way possible.

You wanted to be his, while you also wanted him to be yours.

The thing is, you could never figure out why he suddenly just disappeared without a trace. In fact, the next time you saw his face was in the next teen box office hit and a slew of other successful movies the trailed behind.

Why did he do it?

You open your eyes at the exact second he takes a deep breath and steps dangerously closer to you. Your head snaps down to meet his line of sight. His expression appears nervous and ashamed, two faces you have sparsely seen from him unless it's from a script.

“I'm... I'm sorry for completely leaving and not talking to you again. That’s what you were thinking about right?”

You barely move your head to nod in confirmation.

“I thought you wanted nothing to do with romance.” He lightly places his hands on your knees, igniting the fire under your skin and buzzing in your core. “We both thought that relationships were stupid and our careers came first and I thought you didn’t want anything more than sex and that one night.” You suck on your bottom lip while he pries your thighs apart. The affectionate warmth you were imagining prior to this moment is exchanged for flaming hot lust. “I’m so fucking stupid for thinking it was better to not talk to you again because I didn’t want to grow attached to you if you didn’t feel the same. I felt like I never wanted to let you out of my arms and I thought that ghosting was the best way I could protect myself from heartbreak.” His hands slide up slowly, kneading your thighs as he goes along. “I’m sorry,” he whispers.

“I agree.” You grab the back of his neck and pull him close to you, stopping just short of placing your lips on his. Your noses brush against each others. “You're really fucking stupid.”

The moment your lips meet is more electrifying than the first time. Butterflies flutter faster as his tongue breaches your closed mouth. His eager tongue slips past the seam of your lips and tangles with your own in a messy kiss. You wrap your arms around his neck then into his tousled hair. He inches you closer to the edge of the table. Circling his hands around from your upper thighs to your ass, he takes handfuls of your skin and squeezes gently.

You pull yourself out of the kiss, breathlessly murmuring, "I forgot you were such a good kisser."

He smiles and runs his tongue over his bottom lip. His starry eyes leave your mouth, flicking up to meet your gaze with sincerity. "I remember every precious second I had with you." His hands claw at the waistband of your pants before taking a pause. "May I...?" he asks permission in a sweet voice.

"y-yes, please... "

He carefully tugs them off without needing your assistance. Your legs are parted a smidge as your pants disappear but not enough to meet his liking. He pries your thighs apart again and gets on his knees. His face is level with your panties, taking in the mouth watering sight of a growing wet spot through the thin material of your lace panties. “y/n, you're sooo wet for me,” Jaemin praises in admiration. He hooks his arms under your upper legs and pulls you to his mouth. His first action is to suck a slew of hickies into the inside of your thigh. The pool in your panties gets larger as your wetness increases, seeping through the material that confines your folds with every passing second. He rocks back on his knees to take a mental snapshot of the moment. "You really are gorgeous, y/n."

Thumbing your panties to the side, he exposes your throbbing entrance. You flinch when his forefinger swipes up your slit. He collects your wetness on his finger, making eye contact with you and sucking it off the tip. "God, I missed this." He proceeds to dive his tongue inside your hole with no warning. You throw your head back and moan, grip on the table tightening as his tongue then traces up and down through your slit.

“That feels good, right princess?” You purr and nod dreamily. “You made me come twice last time so I think it’s only fair I spoil you more this time.”

He watches your facial expressions attentively, feeling himself growing harder in his sweatpants as your mouth makes various O shapes and your brow twitches. Opening your heavy eyelids, you peer down to where his mouth now latches to your clit, working wonders on you. He removes one of his arms that was looped around you thighs and slides his middle finger inside your entrance. You feel like he has you so aroused that you're basically around the corner from climax.

"Baby, can you use your words? I want to hear how good it feels," he urges in a candied, sultry voice. His mouth reattaches to your most sensitive spot.

"It f-feels beyond good... your tongue is just, euhh, so amazing," you whimper with words that are barely comprehensible.

He adds a second finger, fucking you with his fingers rhythmically. He curls both of them up in the way that feels like heaven and as the tense cord inside you snaps, you truly reach the pearly gates. You press your lips together as you come on Jaemin's tongue, convulsing while he sucks down hard through the extended white hot flash of pleasure.

He retracts his arms, mouth and fingers from your skin. Whipping his shirt over his head, he gets to work removing his sweatpants that he wore without underwear. "Tell me, yn, how many times did you think about me when you were playing with yourself?"

Your surroundings are scattered with haphazardly tossed clothes but you pause in the middle of taking off your shirt, the last article of clothing on your body. "Fuck, um, I think lost track of how many times, honestly."

Hearing the answer he was looking for, Jaemin scoops you up in his arms, carrying you a short distance through the trailer. He throws you down rather gently onto the bed. Landing on the tall mattress, you part your legs readily like before. He grips your ankles and rips you to the edge.

"Well, I bet I thought about you way more," he huffs. His fingers meet your wetness again and he smiles when you shiver. “Aw, is my girl still sensitive?” he coos, rubbing your clit fervently again.

“y-yes, still sensitive,” you mumble.

“Too much?” He stops.

“no, just right,” you reply.

He leans down to give you a peck on the lips. “Hold on, I have to go grab a condom.” He spins to retrieve the rubber protection but you grab his wrist in time.

“wait, I’m clean and have birth control… Jaemin, I want to feel all of you,” you beckon, dawning seductive hooded eyes.

He smirks and grabs the back of your thighs, pushing your knees to your chest. “Fuck, anything you want princess, I’ll give you anything you want.” He strokes your cheek for a handful of seconds then shifts attention to his hard length. Watching you come for him made his blood rush and he does not need much physical stimulation. Rubbing the head of his cock through your wet lips, he rims your entrance but does not put you out of your misery right away. His antagonizing teasing milks a desperate whine from the back of your throat.

“Aw, your little noises are so cute,” he pouts, giving you a wink. Not a second later, he sinks his length inside your throbbing cunt. Your pleasured moans blend with his as he reaches the deepest point inside you. He stalls a handful of seconds while your silky walls stretch to accommodate for his big size. His shallow, gentle thrusts progressively intensify within a range of thirty seconds. “I don’t know how it’s possible but you feel even better than the last time," he grunts.

Jaemin was the best sex you had ever had then. And exactly like he said, sex is miraculously better now. He pulls out of you and grips your hips firmly, sliding you off the bed and turning you around with haste. You bend over the mattress without instruction and lay your chest to the comforter, keen for Jaemin to fill you up again.

"Mmmh, good girl, princess,” he rasps and even if you can't see his face, you imagine his flashy smile. He slides back inside you with ease, squeezing your ass firmly as he powerfully slams into you at an angle that has you squealing.

"R-right there, Jaem, right... there"

He grabs both of your wrists to hold your hands behind your back. One of his hands tightly secures your wrists in his grasp. Your upper body lifts off the bed and you whimper. Jaemin pounds your core with vigor, snapping his hips inside you repeatedly. Your vision blurs, eyes rolling back in your head as you bent over for him at the superior angle for him to fuck your cunt deeply, every pump hitting your magic spot.

You wish you could have this everyday, the affectionate part and the sex part, two things you could have had together if you only had better communication and were not so afraid of your feelings for each other. Hopefully you will be spending more time in his trailer than any of the others, more specifically in his bed, or on the table, or against the wall, or in the luxury trailer's black leather seats in the front for the entire crew to ogle at. You are not very picky about where Jaemin buries his cock inside you, you just want it to happen.

You rarely climax by penetration alone but you should have expected that Jaemin would be the kind of guy to give it to you so well that you come on his cock. “I’m almost there” you warn him, subsequently contradicting yourself. Within the blink of an eye, the constricting hot tightness in your abdomen intensifies to the point where it bursts, spasming as you reach your high. The overflowing tingling that explodes and echoes through your body, melts into a pulsating novacane, numbing the senses for a dozen seconds.

His pace increases with greater force, stretching your soaking core. You clench your core around his length as best you can manage after your trembling orgasm. He reaches his peak a mere two minute later, groaning from the intense feeling, all the while fucking your continuously pinching hole. He paints your walls with his white cum, then remains inside you for another moment. You savor the moments when you feel completely and holistically full in every fathomable way.

Pulling out slowly, you can instantly feel his cum start to drip out of your throbbing hole. He rushes to get tissues but before cleaning you up, he gets to his knees to marvel at the thick white trickling from your puffy slit. There is a strong temptation to take a picture of the breathtaking sight but he resolves to ask you about possibly filming him fucking you ruthlessly the next time. He touches your buzzing folds, invoking another wave of sparks to ripple to your toes. Seeing you physically twitch, he quickly gets to work with the janitorial clean up and returns to his feet.

Crawling back on the bed, you slide underneath the covers. Jaemin discards of the tissues and snuggles in next to you a few moments later. He maneuvers the blankets around you two perfectly and holds you to his chest protectively. It reminds you of your first time together. And just like that time, you couldn't care less about the fact that you are both glistening in sweat, making your skin stick together like the sticky juice he accidentally squirted down your dress when you were young.

“Princess, I can't promise I won't make stupid decisions anymore, but I swear I'll never be stupid enough to let you go again."

He feathers a tender kiss to your forehead, just as sincere and compassionate as an imaginary picture perfect prince... the kind that you learned about in fairytales when you were children.

happy belated birthday Jaemin!

pls ignore the terrible quality of my gif & posting a lil late

(FAST FORWARD 1 YEAR & 6 MONTHS…)

jan 2023: That ‘90s Show premiers on Netflix

???????? seriously y’all like im fucking psychic i totally called it ?? WILDDDD

➾ my masterlist

#neowritingsnet #jaemin #jaemin smut #jaemin scenarios #jaemin imagines #jaemin fic #jaemin oneshot #nct smut #nct dream #nct dream smut #na jaemin #nct dream 00 line #nct dream fic #nct dream scenarios #nct dream imagines #nct scenarios #nct imagines #nct fic

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doiefy · 3 years ago

Text

new moon // nakamoto yuta // preview

PART OF DAWN TO DUSK

Attractive, charismatic, and endlessly charming, Nakamoto Yuta found fame at an early age⁠. With his impressive repertoire of languages, he's done just about everything, from mainstream Japanese thrillers to indie Korean films, to random cameos in American sitcoms. And with the fuck boy mentality he's managed to maintain since senior year, he's also done everyone: from the cute waitress at your favourite diner to the mean girl cheerleader you went to college with.

So when he comes to you with a plan to finally settle down (he claims he's learned to keep it in his pants, after the five-year-long dating ban issued by his manager), you can't help but be a little suspicious. But as his close confidant and co-star, you can't possibly say no.

A manchild of a fuck boy, too many scandals behind him and a depressing vampire movie: what could possibly go wrong?

genre: celebrity au, fluff, angst pairing: actor!yuta x actress!reader (f.) warnings: just the usual language and suggestive scenes in this preview the rest of the fic will include alcohol, suggestive scenes, implications of sex. the movie magic includes: blood, violence, death, murder, toxic relationships, this list will probably continue to grow as we go expected word count: somewhere between 15-20k, 2k preview

expected release: i don't fucking know (some time between may and july) tag list: @naptimed @roohnyk @neonun-au @uzumakioden @yujaesbestiee (ask, comment or message to be added!)

some important notes:

the movie yuta and reader are filming is based on my vampire yuta fic, respice finem (basically I still haven’t recovered from writing that and this fluffier spin-off is supposed to be my free therapy) this fic can be read on its own, but do be mindful of spoilers if you plan on reading rf!

thank you @heartshyuck mina for helping me come up with this! she's also working on a fic for actor!johnny in the same universe. you can read the preview for 'breaking dawn' here.

I. My mom reckons I'm going to be a star. And stars don't fall from the sky.

Don’t laugh, don’t laugh, don’t laugh, don’t laugh, don’t fucking laugh—

All it takes is one knowing glance, and you lose it.

Hovering just a few inches above you, Yuta throws his head back in a boisterous cackle, his face scrunching up with hysterical amusement. It’s a bright sound, so loud and triumphant that the entire set grows just a little darker in juxtaposition. You groan, sliding out of his grasp and down the wall to sit on your ankles. And then you bury your head in your hands, embarrassed; because four takes for one simple scene is three takes too many.

Well, maybe simple is an understatement, when it really entails making out on camera, with one of your closest friends to boot. You may be professionals—but the director must have the two of you pegged as stupid middle schoolers trying to share their first kiss. From his chair at the other end of the room, Taeyong stares at the two of you with a bit of disbelieving amusement, no doubt enjoying your plight, but also wondering how long it will take you to finish up.

“I’m so sorry,” you hear Yuta apologizing profusely, to no one in particular, as a staff member rushes over to fix up his outfit. “I really don’t know what came over me there.” He turns to you, lending you an arm to help you up from the floor. “Sorry, hon. We got it this time, yeah?”

“Sure,” you grunt, not entirely doubtful, but a little wary of the mischievous twinkle in his eyes.

“Wrap it up, kiddos. Some of us have families to get back to,” Taeyong’s voice cuts through the silence, deliberately deadpan, and distorted by the cheap toy bullhorn he likes to pull out whenever he means business. You’d expect it to have the opposite effect, but strangely, it works. “If my kid gets stranded at daycare and cries the whole way home, that’s on you.”

Yuta leans over to whisper in your ear, “Ever since he became a family man—”

You roll your eyes and whisper back, “—it’s become his entire personality.”

“I heard that, dipshit.” A vulgar comment, but there’s a smile in his voice now; the crew erupts in laughter, and you use it as an opportunity to get everything out of your system, lest you start laughing while the cameras are rolling.

It quickly grows quiet again, save the shuffling of the cameraman and lighting director as they move around to make final adjustments. You let the rest of the world fade as you settle back into character: Kuse Airi, a devious woman courting danger for thrills. And across from you is the aforementioned danger: a charming vampire whose outward beauty and intelligence are mired in iniquity and corruption. In Yuta’s place is an unknown horror lurking beneath a pretty face—in the next couple months of filming, the next couple of decades for your characters, you’ll uncover his true form.

“Action!”

There isn’t a single second of hesitance this time.

His lips crash into yours immediately, and then so does the rest of him: a chaotic encounter of skin, teeth, tongue. You find yourself up against the door a second later, your wrists pinned above your head while he kisses you breathless. He does so with purpose. Hungrily and impatiently to contrast his patient words when he pulls away:

“At a certain point, when you’ve accumulated as many years as I have, you’ll learn to cherish it.” There’s a breathless groan as he swings you around and sets you on the king-sized bed. He’s back in an instant, stealing a comparatively chaste kiss before he finishes the thought. “Eternity isn’t as monotonous and mundane as you’d think.”

You let your teeth graze his neck, just as a warning. The sound released from your throat is nothing short of guttural; the voice of someone too used to getting exactly what she wants. “I didn’t come here to listen to your musings, pretty boy.”

And giving in, his lips twitch upwards in response. “Shall we, then?”

He makes deft work of his shirt, swiftly undoing the buttons to reveal toned muscles and a black tattoo along the side of his chest. And having never seen it before the cameras started rolling, your reaction to it is real.

The SFX makeup artist really outdid themself in making it look ancient. The ink looks faded, eroded in some places and completely missing in others, like it’d been stone-chiselled into his skin centuries ago. A winged serpent creeps up his ribs and coils around the blade of a sword, its forked tongue flicking a row of sigils out onto his chest. To think that it’ll all go down the drain once you’re done filming—a shame really. Especially when it looks so damn good on him.

“Not so much in a rush now, are we? Content to take our time?” he laughs when he catches you trailing your fingers over his skin. A completely improvised line, and it throws you off guard. He takes you by the wrist, drags you closer, and guides your touch over his chest in a way that’s maybe a little too endearing for the scene.

“Hardly,” you manage, and lean in to kiss him again. No sooner than the words are out of your mouth, a loud thump at the door jolts you away from him.

“Police! Open up!”

“Cut!”

You break apart, and your surroundings come spiraling back to you. Yuta is himself again, and he flashes you a proud smile before turning his attention to Taeyong.

“I forgot my line,” Yuta admits sheepishly, shaking his head. “I hope the improvisation was fine.”

“I liked it. It was very much in character,” Taeyong nods thoughtfully, flipping hurriedly through the papers on his clipboard. “Dare I say I liked it more than the original line? Maybe. Just don’t tell Fei or Mina.” He pauses for no one to laugh, instead waving over a couple of his assistants and technicians. “Let’s move onto the next scene. Almost done here, folks.”

You get through the rest of the shoot in one piece, settling more soundly into your role with each take. You’ve practiced, you’ve read all the source material from cover to cover, you often sat in silence scribbling down Airi’s thoughts—but nothing can quite compare to the real thing. Even after years in the industry, sinking deep into character feels strangely surreal when you’re on set. Like a lucid dream you can’t wake up from, so tangible and real that it feels… eerie, in some sense. Unsettling.

And unsettling would be the perfect word to describe the character itself. Kuse Airi is a nightmare to understand, and a nightmare to portray, which is often the case for immortal (not to mention immoral) characters. Centuries of life behind her, two world wars, the rise and fall of empires—now in the 1980s, she searches purposely for thrills that can keep the boredom of vampirism at bay. Though when she chooses not to feel many emotions, when she shuts out just about anything associated with trauma, such thrills can only be in the form of danger. Perilous joyrides. Lethal vampires she somehow lures to their downfalls.

Yuta’s character, on the other hand, is careful. Not just careful, but strategic. Scheming and calculating. Picture a charismatic businessman with a touch of psychotic, obsessive behaviour, and you stumble upon Yamakawa Isao. Isao plays by the rules of the human government. He momentarily puts his pride aside to secure power in the long run. He values loyalty, and loves endlessly—in his own perception of self, anyways. In a reality far uglier than his imagination, his wrath is unmatched, and always a perfect undoing of everything he works so hard for.

Sometimes you see bits and pieces of yourselves in them. Yuta, for one, has been playing villain roles for years. Paired with some of his past scandals, he gets a slightly bad rep for it (but also an army of thirsty fan girls yelling “Nakamoto Yuta, step on me!” at movie premieres). Apart from that, perhaps he thinks of himself a little too highly sometimes. Hubris, certainly.

As for you, you can be just as simultaneously bold and cowardly as Airi. Sometimes you’re all bark no bite, other times all bite and no bark. You’re stubborn. But then indecisive. Sometimes too thoughtful, other times not at all.

You do feel more pressured than usual; and not just because of the characters, or the scandalous nature of the narrative. Of course, acting insane and promiscuous will be a jarring change from your usual roles, but aside from that, it’s a big production. The media had deemed Lee Taeyong insane for signing, and they really had every reason to: the prequel film to a hugely successful thriller, a massive collaboration with Origin Studios in Japan, a strange mash of languages and cultures… there are a lot of expectations to live up to.

Naturally, you called Yuta the second you found out that you’d gotten the role: half-screaming, half-crying, thrilled to co-star with him again, but terrified at the prospect of failing. And with that carefree, easygoing attitude he’s maintained since senior year of college, he only laughed at you. You knew he was just as worried. That he’ll always mirror your sentiments, even if he pretends not to the way he does now.

“Nervous, hon?” he asks you when Taeyong finally calls it a day and rushes out of the studio to get to the daycare. You raise a brow, confused.

“Isn’t that something you’re supposed to ask at the start of a shoot?”

“It always feels more real after the first day, you know? The nerves start kicking in? Start thinking a lot about the coming weeks?” he shrugs. “We’ve got a big day tomorrow.”

You wrack your brain for the filming schedule your manager sent you. Oh. Day 2 is Chapter 4. Isao murders Seojun in cold blood after he discovers the latter embezzling company funds, leaving Seijin and Airi to dispose of the body. Your friend in practical effects has already warned you it’ll be rather grotesque.

“Oh god,” you groan. “I can’t believe they scheduled that one for so early on.”

“Something about the rental fees for the set. Heard the place is gorgeous, though,” Yuta supplies as the two of you walk back to the costume department. The dress you’re wearing is a vintage number you suspect costs more than your monthly paycheque, and the stylist had made it known earlier: she would kill you if you don’t return it to her directly after the shoot.

“Anyways,” Yuta says when you’ve arrived at the designated room, a little singsong—the way he talks whenever he has some sort of mischievous proposition. “You doing anything tonight?”

“Nothing in particular.”

He raises a brow. “Could I interest you in drinks?”

Your feet are killing you, your head is spinning, and you’re still thinking about the vanilla cherry ice cream waiting for you at home—but it’s Yuta. You haven’t gotten to hang out with him since the script reading weeks ago, and probably won’t have another chance once filming gets busy.

You grin. “Sure. They better be on you, bitch.”

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