[fic] Baila Baila Baila (prologue)
Title:Baila Baila Baila
Pairing: HoMin/MinHo
Rating: PG-13 (for this chapter)
Genre: Crack
Warning: This fic is full of nonsense. Don’t read if you’re into using your brain.
Summary:
Amongst K-pop idols storm, actors begin to feel pressure in the filming industry. To boost their popularity up, some who specialized in action genre even have to rip their ego and sell themselves to reality shows, even if it means wearing tight, sparkly pants and swaying their asses.
A/N: YAAYYYY!!! My first attempt other than soulfighters!! xDD This will only be a short-chaptered fics though.
Prologue
Dj, turn it up, pump it loud
Let’s get wild
Get your freak on the floor
That’s what we came here for
Feel the heat
Bump and grind
Pack it up
Add some whine
Shake it up, shake it down
One, two, three, quick, quick, slow, and turn. Hips sway left, right, left, right, foreheads met, smirks only an inch in distance. Hand glided along a slim waist before gripping it tight and leading another turn, arm muscles stretched and flexed, long legs swung lightly in a Samba rhythm.
"Papi, I’m ready come let’s go~" Jaejoong sang a line from the song seductively. He draped an arm around his partner’s neck and threw his head back; blissful smile rose on his lips as his partner Changmin lifted him a bit and brought him into a turn, with the tip of his toes barely reaching the floor. His smooth, brown hair flung gracefully, as if a crowd of butterflies might come out from it.
It was the last move before they stopped with a pose, shooting a blazing smile to their own reflection on the mirror. With that, they ended their tenth attempt at the Samba routine practice.
"How was I?" Jaejoong asked, looking proud and satisfied. He did another twirl as Changmin walked away to turn the radio off.
"Better than those naked girls yesterday." Changmin dropped himself on the wooden floor, sitting with knees bent as he brushed a towel over his sweaty neck.
Jaejoong shot him a teasing grin. "You seemed to enjoy it though."
"I had to. The critiques would be all over my neck if my boobs-phobia was shown during that Chacha routine.”
The assistant snickered, clapping his hands in amusement. "It was fun, really. I almost fell from the chair when one of them shook her boobs on your face just like that."
"Yeah, I know, it's part of the disastrous choreography."
"Weren't you the one who made it?"
"Some parts were requested by the producer to boost the rating up."
"You poor soul." The brown haired shook his head in exaggerated sympathy. He puckered his lips and came to Changmin with arms spread wide, letting him fall into an embrace. They don’t mind sharing the sweat.
"You should've flown there and saved me from the doom." Changmin mumbled into his apprentice’s pecs, whining with a pout.
Jaejoong popped his chest. ".... And shoved you better boobs?"
The younger instructor bated his eyelashes and shot a naughty grin for a second, before he drastically dismissed the friendly look and pulled away from the slick chest. He quickly wiped the other guy’s sweat on his cheek as if it was virus.
"Oh, you know what?” Jaejoong released the guy and ignored his attitude. “The dance community netizens have been debating whether you're a Nureyev or Baryshnikov. * ”
“Well, I’m not into chasing ladies’ skirts, but that doesn’t mean I have to shave my eyebrows to a sad size to prove that. Either way, I don't wear super tight spandex to boast the size of Minnie jr.”
“Which is not really a Minnie…”
“Compared to you, yeah.” Changmin licked his lips and spread his legs wider, boasting the object of pride, in which Jaejoong immediately lashed a handful of towel to it.
“I pity Nureyev though.” Jaejoong changed the topic. “His era had never allowed him to dance with his preferred kind of gender. In public, I mean. Unlike.... did you see the TV show where two boys from SHINee attempting to do couple Salsa last week?”
Changmin bit a feral smile. Taemin, Minho. Cute, fresh-faced idol boys. Exactly Noona’s (and gay men’s) fapping material. “They sucked. The TV edited it so much to hide the flaws.”
“Who cares? Those buns are hot. And I bet you jerked off to the image of Minho Chacha-ing you afterward.”
There was silence, and a moment later a desperate groan mixed with loud giggle filled the room.
“Fuck! Feed me that image and I’d have to have you Chacha-ing me instead…” The instructor screamed.
Loving the reaction, Jaejoong inched further and got on his hands and knees to give Changmin a good show of his wiggling ass. Changmin snickered and lashed the ass with his towel, before they ended up reaching legs to kick each other.
They stopped when Jaejoong had shifted too far for Changmin’s leg to reach.
"But seriously…” Changmin continued between his pants. “Those idol boys try anything, don’t they?”
“Yeah, even comedy and movies are full of them nowadays. I can understand though. When good looking boys are able to do comedy and acting, why use ugly comedians and actors? Idols sell better after all.”
“Is that why some actors lose their popularity lately?”
Jaejoong shrugged. “Maybe, I don’t know. Well, I think even senior actors need to forget the pride and sell themselves once in a while.”
Changmin nodded, seemingly registering something into his mind. Now that Jaejoong said that, he remembered the important notice he got earlier that day. “Have I told you that I get Jung Yunho for the show next month?”
Apparently it was quite a shock since Jaejoong almost dropped his eyeballs out upon hearing it.
“You’re kidding me!” He shrieked.
“I’m not. Even his manager, Park something had called me to confirm it this afternoon.”
Still with extremely wide eyes, Jaejoong crawled towards the younger guy to ensure what he had heard. “The Jung Yunho, the ‘I’m-straight-because-I-wear-ramboo-vest-and-covered-in-grease Jung Yunho?”
Changmin smirked. “Yeah. The I’m straight because-I-swim-across-poisonous-swamp-with a pack of missile- to-save-a-lady-from-being-raped Jung Yunho.”
“The I-run-with-sweaty-six-packs-and-jump-from-one-building-to-another Jung Yunho!?”
“The I-manage-to-stay-alive-even-after-my-car-crashed-down-the-hill-and-exploded Jung Yunho.”
Jaejoong gawked.
Few seconds later he closed his gaped mouth as Changmin lightly kissed his upper lip to bring back his consciousness.
“Is it because of global warming?” Jaejoong wondered as he rested his head on the younger’s lap.
“Believe me, these crashing actors will do anything to save their threatened existence"
*
*
“What the fuck is this!?”
Jung Yunho abruptly got up from his chair, causing uncomfortable sound as the wooden legs scratched against the floor. In front of him was a piece of paper, list of clauses were written down, ended with a space for him to sign.
Also in front of him, his manager Park Yoochun dragged a cigarette nonchalantly. His wavy hair was tied on the back of his neck, and with the thick-framed glasses he was wearing, ‘unbeatable’ message was emitted from every pore of his skin.
"I've talked to one of the residents on that show. By lottery, you get him as an instructor starting next week." Yoochun said firmly. He shoved the paper closer to the actor.
Yunho slammed his palms onto the table. "How could you do that without telling me!?"
"This is an emergency. Many out-of-dated celebrities are into this show."
The actor’s eyes narrowed at the term used by his manager. “Out-of-dated, you said?”
Yoochun sighed, massaging his nose bridge. Then he glared from behind his glasses, with a look that could freeze a baby’s backbone. “Yunho, face the reality.” His voice was full of authority. “You’re a mess right now. What do you have that those breastmilk-smelled boys don’t? Body, they have. Face, they have, even younger. Acting skill? Don’t underestimate them.”
“Well, I have these experiences since I was ten--”
“That’s why you’re expensive.” Yoochun cut him. “Those idols lack experiences, therefore they’re cheap and don’t damage the producer’s budget. Cheap, bubbly, fun, have no wrinkles and shake their ass. Do you shake your ass? No you don’t.”
Yunho scratched his head in frustration. His next fight-back came like a tsunami, “I don’t see why shaking my ass has something to do with….” He grabbed a note of his filmography from somewhere around the table. “Mission Unpredictable, Niagara 9095, Chestmate, Purple Loan, Rising Speed, O-Jung-Yun-Ho...”
“Ow, it has.” Knitting eyebrows in the middle, curling a cynical smile, using mocking tone. If not for a friendship over ten years, Park Yoochun would have been found dead in one of his mornings. That was what Yunho had always thought.
But considering that his words were mostly true, the actor let him continued:
“Do you think nowadays, ladies prefer to see stiff assed, muscled hunk with wrinkles running through the desert, bathing in sunlight, and knuckling dirty geezers? No. They prefer pretty boys with fresh skin and red lips, sprinting and wiggling a pair of obviously-untrained butt cheeks, struggling to bring bazooka on their frail shoulders, especially if there’s a scene when they get caught and tied and tortured by the aforementioned muscled hunk. So the muscled hunk is only there as a supporting actor, to emphasize the pretty boy’s prettiness. They might not get too many screen time. This is the cause of your degrading popularity.”
The paragraph was uttered in one breath.
Yunho shrieked, “This era has gone crazy!!”
“That’s the reality. Accept it and deal with it.” Without letting the actor retorted, he grabbed him by the shoulders and pierced another power gaze into Yunho’s eyes. “And this. This is what you have to do. Show Korea, Yunho. Show them you can shake your ass just like those K-pop idols do."
"W-why should I...
“Be in the same line with them regardless your age!!” Yoochun raised his volume abruptly, causing Yunho to jerk in shock. “And you may impregnate me if your next movie doesn’t sell well.”
Yunho shivered in fear at the mere permission to do it. But then he shakily looked down to the paper his persuasive manager shoved into his nose. Sweat trailed from the side of his forehead.
So You Think You Can’t Dance
Everybody can dance, even those who don’t seem to have talent in it. The problem lies in whether they have good instructors, supports and of course determination. Our show invites celebrities from various fields -actors, fashion designers, models, even wrestlers, solely to prove that everybody, regardless their profession, have a dancer lies within.
With Latin Ballroom as the theme of our second season, decide whether they dance as bad as you think!
“This is obnoxious!!!” Yunho yelled and ripped the contract paper furiously. "You want me to sell my booty!? I'm not Shakira!" Too bad, Yoochun had prepared another one and he immediately put it on the same spot.
“Obnoxious? Let’s see what do you mean by obnoxious…. “ Yoochun pulled out his iPhone and read one of the notes in it. “So You Think You Can’t Dance, SYTYCD in short. First season got 28% rating at the highest, which was their final episode, and 21% at the lowest.” He closed the note and opened another note. “Let’s see…. Purple Loan starring Jung Yunho. Rating 9% at the highest. O-Jung-Yun-Ho, starring Jung Yunho. Rating 6% in the final episode. A critique commented, ‘Jung Yunho is dooming himself in this self-destructing series. He’s old and desperate.’”
Yunho’s jaw dropped.
“Care to explain what is obnoxious to you, Yunho?” Yoochun asked, tone even colder than before. “And for your information, last week somebody from SHINee’s company called me. They offered me a chance to be Lee Taemin’s personal manager.”
“T-that bastard...”
“Do you even know, which one Lee Taemin from SHINee is??”
Yunho scoffed and leaned back loosely to his chair, smiling in confidence. “That scrawny mama boy whose thighs are only half the size of my arms? Naturally gay from the womb? Heh! How dare them to just-“
Yoochun sighed loudly, stopping Yunho’s line on purpose. He bent down, and from the suitcase near his feet, he took out a clipping from a quite respectable magazine, dated recently.
“At first I want to keep this a secret from you, Yunho. But seeing you act this difficult, I guess I have no choice.”
Feigning a regretful look, he spread the clipping in front of the actor, letting him see the crystal clear headline:
Lee Taemin: The Next Jung Yunho, Only Better.
Thanks to it though, he was able to get the contract paper signed in less than two seconds.
[to be continued]
* Nureyev & Baryshnikov: Both were legends in ballet, Nureyev was known as gay, Baryshnikov was on the other hand, a lady killer.
Pairing: HoMin/MinHo
Rating: PG-13 (for this chapter)
Genre: Crack
Warning: This fic is full of nonsense. Don’t read if you’re into using your brain.
Summary:
Amongst K-pop idols storm, actors begin to feel pressure in the filming industry. To boost their popularity up, some who specialized in action genre even have to rip their ego and sell themselves to reality shows, even if it means wearing tight, sparkly pants and swaying their asses.
A/N: YAAYYYY!!! My first attempt other than soulfighters!! xDD This will only be a short-chaptered fics though.
Prologue
Dj, turn it up, pump it loud
Let’s get wild
Get your freak on the floor
That’s what we came here for
Feel the heat
Bump and grind
Pack it up
Add some whine
Shake it up, shake it down
One, two, three, quick, quick, slow, and turn. Hips sway left, right, left, right, foreheads met, smirks only an inch in distance. Hand glided along a slim waist before gripping it tight and leading another turn, arm muscles stretched and flexed, long legs swung lightly in a Samba rhythm.
"Papi, I’m ready come let’s go~" Jaejoong sang a line from the song seductively. He draped an arm around his partner’s neck and threw his head back; blissful smile rose on his lips as his partner Changmin lifted him a bit and brought him into a turn, with the tip of his toes barely reaching the floor. His smooth, brown hair flung gracefully, as if a crowd of butterflies might come out from it.
It was the last move before they stopped with a pose, shooting a blazing smile to their own reflection on the mirror. With that, they ended their tenth attempt at the Samba routine practice.
"How was I?" Jaejoong asked, looking proud and satisfied. He did another twirl as Changmin walked away to turn the radio off.
"Better than those naked girls yesterday." Changmin dropped himself on the wooden floor, sitting with knees bent as he brushed a towel over his sweaty neck.
Jaejoong shot him a teasing grin. "You seemed to enjoy it though."
"I had to. The critiques would be all over my neck if my boobs-phobia was shown during that Chacha routine.”
The assistant snickered, clapping his hands in amusement. "It was fun, really. I almost fell from the chair when one of them shook her boobs on your face just like that."
"Yeah, I know, it's part of the disastrous choreography."
"Weren't you the one who made it?"
"Some parts were requested by the producer to boost the rating up."
"You poor soul." The brown haired shook his head in exaggerated sympathy. He puckered his lips and came to Changmin with arms spread wide, letting him fall into an embrace. They don’t mind sharing the sweat.
"You should've flown there and saved me from the doom." Changmin mumbled into his apprentice’s pecs, whining with a pout.
Jaejoong popped his chest. ".... And shoved you better boobs?"
The younger instructor bated his eyelashes and shot a naughty grin for a second, before he drastically dismissed the friendly look and pulled away from the slick chest. He quickly wiped the other guy’s sweat on his cheek as if it was virus.
"Oh, you know what?” Jaejoong released the guy and ignored his attitude. “The dance community netizens have been debating whether you're a Nureyev or Baryshnikov. * ”
“Well, I’m not into chasing ladies’ skirts, but that doesn’t mean I have to shave my eyebrows to a sad size to prove that. Either way, I don't wear super tight spandex to boast the size of Minnie jr.”
“Which is not really a Minnie…”
“Compared to you, yeah.” Changmin licked his lips and spread his legs wider, boasting the object of pride, in which Jaejoong immediately lashed a handful of towel to it.
“I pity Nureyev though.” Jaejoong changed the topic. “His era had never allowed him to dance with his preferred kind of gender. In public, I mean. Unlike.... did you see the TV show where two boys from SHINee attempting to do couple Salsa last week?”
Changmin bit a feral smile. Taemin, Minho. Cute, fresh-faced idol boys. Exactly Noona’s (and gay men’s) fapping material. “They sucked. The TV edited it so much to hide the flaws.”
“Who cares? Those buns are hot. And I bet you jerked off to the image of Minho Chacha-ing you afterward.”
There was silence, and a moment later a desperate groan mixed with loud giggle filled the room.
“Fuck! Feed me that image and I’d have to have you Chacha-ing me instead…” The instructor screamed.
Loving the reaction, Jaejoong inched further and got on his hands and knees to give Changmin a good show of his wiggling ass. Changmin snickered and lashed the ass with his towel, before they ended up reaching legs to kick each other.
They stopped when Jaejoong had shifted too far for Changmin’s leg to reach.
"But seriously…” Changmin continued between his pants. “Those idol boys try anything, don’t they?”
“Yeah, even comedy and movies are full of them nowadays. I can understand though. When good looking boys are able to do comedy and acting, why use ugly comedians and actors? Idols sell better after all.”
“Is that why some actors lose their popularity lately?”
Jaejoong shrugged. “Maybe, I don’t know. Well, I think even senior actors need to forget the pride and sell themselves once in a while.”
Changmin nodded, seemingly registering something into his mind. Now that Jaejoong said that, he remembered the important notice he got earlier that day. “Have I told you that I get Jung Yunho for the show next month?”
Apparently it was quite a shock since Jaejoong almost dropped his eyeballs out upon hearing it.
“You’re kidding me!” He shrieked.
“I’m not. Even his manager, Park something had called me to confirm it this afternoon.”
Still with extremely wide eyes, Jaejoong crawled towards the younger guy to ensure what he had heard. “The Jung Yunho, the ‘I’m-straight-because-I-wear-ramboo-vest-and-covered-in-grease Jung Yunho?”
Changmin smirked. “Yeah. The I’m straight because-I-swim-across-poisonous-swamp-with a pack of missile- to-save-a-lady-from-being-raped Jung Yunho.”
“The I-run-with-sweaty-six-packs-and-jump-from-one-building-to-another Jung Yunho!?”
“The I-manage-to-stay-alive-even-after-my-car-crashed-down-the-hill-and-exploded Jung Yunho.”
Jaejoong gawked.
Few seconds later he closed his gaped mouth as Changmin lightly kissed his upper lip to bring back his consciousness.
“Is it because of global warming?” Jaejoong wondered as he rested his head on the younger’s lap.
“Believe me, these crashing actors will do anything to save their threatened existence"
*
*
“What the fuck is this!?”
Jung Yunho abruptly got up from his chair, causing uncomfortable sound as the wooden legs scratched against the floor. In front of him was a piece of paper, list of clauses were written down, ended with a space for him to sign.
Also in front of him, his manager Park Yoochun dragged a cigarette nonchalantly. His wavy hair was tied on the back of his neck, and with the thick-framed glasses he was wearing, ‘unbeatable’ message was emitted from every pore of his skin.
"I've talked to one of the residents on that show. By lottery, you get him as an instructor starting next week." Yoochun said firmly. He shoved the paper closer to the actor.
Yunho slammed his palms onto the table. "How could you do that without telling me!?"
"This is an emergency. Many out-of-dated celebrities are into this show."
The actor’s eyes narrowed at the term used by his manager. “Out-of-dated, you said?”
Yoochun sighed, massaging his nose bridge. Then he glared from behind his glasses, with a look that could freeze a baby’s backbone. “Yunho, face the reality.” His voice was full of authority. “You’re a mess right now. What do you have that those breastmilk-smelled boys don’t? Body, they have. Face, they have, even younger. Acting skill? Don’t underestimate them.”
“Well, I have these experiences since I was ten--”
“That’s why you’re expensive.” Yoochun cut him. “Those idols lack experiences, therefore they’re cheap and don’t damage the producer’s budget. Cheap, bubbly, fun, have no wrinkles and shake their ass. Do you shake your ass? No you don’t.”
Yunho scratched his head in frustration. His next fight-back came like a tsunami, “I don’t see why shaking my ass has something to do with….” He grabbed a note of his filmography from somewhere around the table. “Mission Unpredictable, Niagara 9095, Chestmate, Purple Loan, Rising Speed, O-Jung-Yun-Ho...”
“Ow, it has.” Knitting eyebrows in the middle, curling a cynical smile, using mocking tone. If not for a friendship over ten years, Park Yoochun would have been found dead in one of his mornings. That was what Yunho had always thought.
But considering that his words were mostly true, the actor let him continued:
“Do you think nowadays, ladies prefer to see stiff assed, muscled hunk with wrinkles running through the desert, bathing in sunlight, and knuckling dirty geezers? No. They prefer pretty boys with fresh skin and red lips, sprinting and wiggling a pair of obviously-untrained butt cheeks, struggling to bring bazooka on their frail shoulders, especially if there’s a scene when they get caught and tied and tortured by the aforementioned muscled hunk. So the muscled hunk is only there as a supporting actor, to emphasize the pretty boy’s prettiness. They might not get too many screen time. This is the cause of your degrading popularity.”
The paragraph was uttered in one breath.
Yunho shrieked, “This era has gone crazy!!”
“That’s the reality. Accept it and deal with it.” Without letting the actor retorted, he grabbed him by the shoulders and pierced another power gaze into Yunho’s eyes. “And this. This is what you have to do. Show Korea, Yunho. Show them you can shake your ass just like those K-pop idols do."
"W-why should I...
“Be in the same line with them regardless your age!!” Yoochun raised his volume abruptly, causing Yunho to jerk in shock. “And you may impregnate me if your next movie doesn’t sell well.”
Yunho shivered in fear at the mere permission to do it. But then he shakily looked down to the paper his persuasive manager shoved into his nose. Sweat trailed from the side of his forehead.
So You Think You Can’t Dance
Everybody can dance, even those who don’t seem to have talent in it. The problem lies in whether they have good instructors, supports and of course determination. Our show invites celebrities from various fields -actors, fashion designers, models, even wrestlers, solely to prove that everybody, regardless their profession, have a dancer lies within.
With Latin Ballroom as the theme of our second season, decide whether they dance as bad as you think!
“This is obnoxious!!!” Yunho yelled and ripped the contract paper furiously. "You want me to sell my booty!? I'm not Shakira!" Too bad, Yoochun had prepared another one and he immediately put it on the same spot.
“Obnoxious? Let’s see what do you mean by obnoxious…. “ Yoochun pulled out his iPhone and read one of the notes in it. “So You Think You Can’t Dance, SYTYCD in short. First season got 28% rating at the highest, which was their final episode, and 21% at the lowest.” He closed the note and opened another note. “Let’s see…. Purple Loan starring Jung Yunho. Rating 9% at the highest. O-Jung-Yun-Ho, starring Jung Yunho. Rating 6% in the final episode. A critique commented, ‘Jung Yunho is dooming himself in this self-destructing series. He’s old and desperate.’”
Yunho’s jaw dropped.
“Care to explain what is obnoxious to you, Yunho?” Yoochun asked, tone even colder than before. “And for your information, last week somebody from SHINee’s company called me. They offered me a chance to be Lee Taemin’s personal manager.”
“T-that bastard...”
“Do you even know, which one Lee Taemin from SHINee is??”
Yunho scoffed and leaned back loosely to his chair, smiling in confidence. “That scrawny mama boy whose thighs are only half the size of my arms? Naturally gay from the womb? Heh! How dare them to just-“
Yoochun sighed loudly, stopping Yunho’s line on purpose. He bent down, and from the suitcase near his feet, he took out a clipping from a quite respectable magazine, dated recently.
“At first I want to keep this a secret from you, Yunho. But seeing you act this difficult, I guess I have no choice.”
Feigning a regretful look, he spread the clipping in front of the actor, letting him see the crystal clear headline:
Lee Taemin: The Next Jung Yunho, Only Better.
Thanks to it though, he was able to get the contract paper signed in less than two seconds.
[to be continued]
* Nureyev & Baryshnikov: Both were legends in ballet, Nureyev was known as gay, Baryshnikov was on the other hand, a lady killer.