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seospicybin · 7 months ago

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PLAY PRETEND.

Lee Know x reader x Han. (s,a)

Synopsis: Minho, a seasoned actor, is joined by Han, an idol stepping into his first major role for a BL drama and their chemistry on screen makes everyone wondering what’s real and what’s an act, including Minho’s girlfriend, you. (20,7k words)

Author's note: A fair warning, it's a tad bit angsty but hope you enjoy it. ♡

Minho is no stranger to the thrill of the spotlight. As one of the industry's top actors, he’s amassed a fan base that follows his every move, each role bringing him closer to becoming a household name. His charm and undeniable talent have carried him from promising rookie to revered star, and few can match his level of skill and dedication.

This latest role, though, is something entirely new. When the announcement breaks that he’s accepted his first BL drama, the news explodes across social media, every fan site, and entertainment news outlet. Fans can barely contain their excitement.

Minho is known for transforming into his characters with an authenticity that leaves them breathless, and the thought of seeing him in a romance with another man—something he has never done onscreen—sends waves of excitement through them. Speculation about his co-star and their potential chemistry runs wild.

But beneath the flood of supportive messages and the whirlwind of media attention, Minho feels a prickling of doubt. He’s heard whispers that he’ll be paired with Han Jisung, an idol who only recently turned to acting. Minho can't deny he’s apprehensive about working alongside someone with so little experience. Acting requires a kind of discipline that not everyone can muster, especially when the stakes are this high.

Even as the buzz around the drama continues to grow, Minho keeps his distance from the hype. He needs to stay focused, to treat this role like any other. After all, he’s a professional, and he’s made it his career to bring out the best in every character he plays—even if that means navigating uncharted waters with a rookie idol by his side.

The table read is set in one of the sleek, polished meeting rooms of the production studio, its walls lined with posters from past hit dramas. Minho arrives right on time, slipping into his seat with the practiced nonchalance of someone who’s done this countless times before. Around him, the director and scriptwriters are setting up, their expressions shifting between excitement and concentration.

Just as Minho begins flipping through the script, he notices a quiet stir as Han enters the room. Dressed casually, with a hint of nervousness shadowing his usually confident expression, Han greets everyone politely, bowing deeply. His gaze shifts to Minho, and he visibly straightens, flashing a hopeful smile.

“Minho,” Han says, inclining his head with respect. “I’m really looking forward to working with you.” His tone is warm, genuine, a mix of nerves and eagerness showing in the way he speaks. It’s clear he’s someone who looks up to Minho, eager to make a good impression.

Minho, on the other hand, keeps his expression carefully blank. He offers Han a curt nod, glancing back down at the script with an air of disinterest. His own reservations about the rookie’s lack of experience hover in the back of his mind.

“Let’s just focus on the work,” Minho replies coolly, turning the page. “I’m sure you’ll pick things up as we go along.”

Han, however, doesn’t seem discouraged. His eyes brighten, and he shifts his chair a little closer, leaning forward eagerly as the director begins discussing the scene they’ll be reading. Despite Minho’s chilly demeanor, Han listens intently, occasionally glancing over at Minho, almost as if trying to absorb his every gesture and expression.

As the reading begins, Han gives it his all, his voice rising and falling with emotion, even if his delivery lacks the polish of a seasoned actor. Minho remains composed, effortlessly slipping into character with every line, his calm, professional presence commanding the room. But he can't help but notice the way Han watches him, soaking in each subtle movement, as though he’s studying a masterclass.

Despite himself, Minho is somewhat impressed by Han’s dedication, even if he doesn’t let it show. Han’s energy is raw and unrefined, yes, but there’s a spark there—something that could, perhaps, be shaped. Not that he’s planning to admit it.

When the read-through ends, Han gives him another eager look. “Thank you for today. I hope I can learn a lot from you.”

Minho offers only the briefest nod, keeping his tone neutral. “Just do your best,” he says, before gathering his things and slipping out the door, leaving Han watching after him, still hopeful and undeterred.

It’s past midnight when he finally slips out of his car and makes his way down the empty street toward your apartment. The city feels different at this hour, like it’s holding its breath. He lets himself in quietly, his heart lifting the moment he sees you, curled up on the couch, waiting for him as if you knew he’d come.

“Hey, stranger,” you greet him with a sly smile on your face.

“Couldn’t sleep?” he asks softly, shutting the door with a careful hand.

“I figured you might drop by,” you say, smiling as you pat the space beside you.

He sinks down, the stress of the day beginning to fade in your presence especially after his lips touched yours in a rewarding kiss. You lean against him as he snuggles into your arms, comfortable, familiar, as if the world outside doesn’t exist.

“So, how was the table read?” you ask, curiosity lighting up your face. “Was it as intense as you expected?”

Minho sighs, running a hand through his hair. “Let’s just say it was… interesting,” he mutters. “They paired me with Han Jisung, you know, the idol who just started acting.”

There’s a slight edge in his voice, a hint of skepticism. “He’s eager, I’ll give him that, but he’s new to this, and it shows. I could see it right away. He’s trying hard, but…” he trails off, his tone resigned.

You rest a hand on him, giving him a reassuring smile. “Hey, give him a chance. You might be surprised. Once filming starts, he could be different. He’s probably just nervous being around someone like you.”

Minho huffs softly, though his expression softens a bit. “Maybe. But you didn’t see how he was watching me, like he was waiting for every word I said. I’m used to people wanting to learn, but with him�� I don’t know. He tries too hard.”

“Then try not to be so hard on him,” you suggest gently, tilting your head to meet his gaze. “You might be the only one who can help him get through this. You know, just… take it easy. He might surprise you.”

Minho chuckles, his fingers brushing lightly along yours and sneaks a quick peck on your lips. “I’ll try. No promises, though.”

“Good,” you say, leaning your head against his as you continue landing comforting rubs on his back.

For all the lights and cameras that follow him, Minho’s real life unfolds in the shadows, far from the glare of fame. To the world, he’s a household name—a sought-after actor whose every move is documented, dissected, and adored.

But here, in the quiet sanctuary of your apartment, he’s just Minho. Here, there’s no need for the polished charm, the unshakeable confidence, or the professional distance he maintains around others.

Here, he can simply exist, away from the world that claims to know him.

Dating someone outside the industry was never something he’d planned, but somehow, being with you—a person untouched by the demands of fame—grounds him in a way nothing else can. You work a steady, simple job, miles from the chaos of show business, and that’s part of what he loves most. Your world is calm, ordinary, real. He can shed the layers of expectation and just… breathe.

These quiet nights with you are his escape, a secret he guards as fiercely as his most cherished roles. And though it’s a thrill to keep your relationship hidden, it’s also a risk—a delicate balance he walks to preserve the one part of his life that fame hasn’t touched.

After a few minutes of peaceful silence, you shift against him, glancing up with a playful smile. “Are you hungry? I could whip something up.”

Minho’s lips curve in amusement, already anticipating your offer. “Depends. Are you on the menu?”

You chuckle, getting up and heading to the kitchen, dismissing his flirty attempt. “How does a bowl of noodles sound? Only the best for a famous actor like you, of course.”

Minho follows you, leaning casually against the counter as he watches you work, eyes warm with that familiar, easy affection. You go about filling a pot with water, setting it to boil before adding in the noodles and seasonings. He knows you’re not exactly a gourmet chef, and he’s well aware that these noodles come straight from a packet, but it’s never been about the food.

When you finally slide the bowl over to him, you can’t help but tease, “You know, you’re probably the only person who actually enjoys my cooking, and all I did is adding the seasoning packet.”

Minho only shrugs, picking up his chopsticks. “Doesn’t matter. I like it because you made it and you put your love in it,” he says simply, looking at you with that soft, genuine smile that’s just for you.

You sit beside him, resting your chin on your hand as you watch him dig in, a small warmth blooming in your chest. Moments like this, just the two of you, sharing a late-night snack in the dim glow of your kitchen, feel like little pockets of normalcy—something rare and precious amidst the fast-paced world he belongs to.

“So, how was your day?” he asks between bites, looking over at you with genuine interest.

“Pretty quiet,” you say, mirroring his casual tone. “Went to work, came back, and then… waited for you,” you add with a small smile, one that he quickly returns. “But nothing too exciting, really.”

He nods, listening intently, and after a moment, he begins to share bits of his own day, too—the rehearsals, the meetings, the endless stream of people he has to charm and impress. But there’s something about these late-night conversations that lets him drop the facade and just be honest, to talk freely without any pressure or expectation.

“But nothing too exciting, really.” He adds at the end of his sentence, copying your tone as he says it.

He finishes the noodles, setting the bowl aside and leaning back, his hand reaching for yours. “Now, how about...” he murmurs, his thumb brushing gently over your knuckles, “We make things exciting?”

When Minho says exciting, he doesn't mean brushing teeth together by the sink in the bathroom. He gets ahead of you, washing his mouth with a scoop of water and puts his tootbrush into its place, having something he wants to do to you as you're busy brushing your teeth.

He stands behind you, wrapping his arms around you before pulling you close until your back meets his chest. It stays like that for a moment until his hand wandering your chest and fondling your breast through your camisole.

“Now, this is exciting,” he murmurs as he sinks his mouth into your neck.

Through the reflection in the mirror, Minho sees you shoot him a glare as you keep brushing your teeth and it only makes him want to keep doing it, he uses both hands to slip under your camisole and continues fondling them, fingers circling on your blossoming buds.

You turn your head slightly to the side and this time, directly glare into his eyes. You let him have his way for now but as you need to eventually finish brushing your teeth, you yank his hands away from you so you can bend down to wash your mouth with water next.

But Minho takes advantage of this new position and lands a gentle slap on the back of your thigh, he then takes a step forward to close the gap, allowing him to rub his growing bulge against your ass.

You take a towel to dab your mouth and look over your shoulder at him, “You're so impatient, you know that?”

Minho shamelessly nods and pulls you close, making you feel his erection poking behind you, “Just trying to keep things exciting.”

There’s no way you can stop Minho from getting what he wants. He lays on top of you, elbows propped on each side of your body as his hands are busy fondling on your breasts. He gently squeezes on your soft mounds and then pushes them to the middle so he can take the two nipples into his greedy mouth.

“Be nice,” you warn him with your hand tangled in his dark locks as he has your nipple tugged between his teeth.

The way he responds with a menacing smirk only means that he'll likely do things that goes against your warning and you're right, he opens his mouth wide and takes as much flesh, he closes his mouth around it and sucks on it as hard as he can.

“Minho!” you hiss in pain and tug at his hair hard because that’s the only way to make him hear you.

He lets go with a loud pop, his lips are wet and so are the marks he made on your breasts. Even so, he begins making a trail of kisses down your front until his lips land on where you want him the most.

He looks at you as he starts lightly touching your clit with his fingers, and then he places the softest kiss on it. He replaces his fingers with his tongue next, pressing the tip of his hot tongue on it before moving in circular motions. His fingers teasing your entrance repeatedly, he pushes his two digits just enough to make you feel the stretch and make him feel how tight you are for him.

One long finger slipped into you, and grateful sighs and murmurs tumble from your lips. That is exactly what you need. He works a second finger in, and the stretching sensation has your head falling back. Oh yes, this is what you need. Your heels dug into the bed as you push into the penetration as his fingers easing in and out, curling against you to breathtaking effect.

When Minho abruptly removes his touch, you can’t bite back a protesting sound. “Minho, I need more, I—”

He lifts his glistening fingers to his lips and suck them into his mouth. The intensity of his eyes combined with his devilish grin has you fisting the sheets in you hands as your core tightens on itself.

Minho continues by placing caresses with deep, slow thrusts. It's good, so good, but he isn’t touching you where you want it, need it. Your hips writhed as you try to relieve the growing ache. When he withdraws again, you stroke your hands down your stomach in rampant frustration, but your own touch does nothing to excite you so you grip your knees, pull them apart to bare your sex to his eyes.

“I need more,” you mutter to him with a defeated sigh and a lustful glare. You spread your legs wider for him and seductively beg, “Please?”

The first push he makes is gentle and your body takes, and then takes some more until he's fully sheathed inside you. There’s no denying that every part of his body arouses you but but it’s his eyes, and the expression in them as he rolls his hips against you. His movement is slick and easy, there’s no hard impact, Minho moves against you with measured control.

You know he's not enjoying it when you're not making all kind of noises, Minho is frowning a little in concentration as he tries to angle his hips until he finds one that seems to nudge a little switch inside your body.

“Goodness!” You gasp in response as you grip the side of the pillow.

“There we go!” Minho mutters with a satisfied smirk as he hits it again and again, and the pleasure is so intense a sob catches in your throat.

You have no strength to raise your arms to his shoulders as every thrust that goes into you is taking you one step closer to something you’re fairly sure will kill you but despite of it, you want to savor every second of it. In fact, you want to live in this moment forever.

Minho is quick to notice what you're doing, you're trying to delay your orgasm. “Hey, quit holding off.”

“I'm not,” you breathlessly and innocently answer.

Your lie only causes him to increase his force, he slips his hands under your hips and angles you higher, he then adds more intensity to his thrusts and you have no idea how he's not tired.

“I don’t want it to end, please, Minho, please,” you whine as you're on the brink of free falling into a pool of unadulterated pleasure.

“Stubborn, aren't you?” He murmurs before pressing a hard kiss on your parted lips.

Instead of adding speed, Minho begins doing this smooth, deep rolling thrusts that slowly making you two losing it and on the second, you grip at him as your mouth snapped close. However, you can’t hold in your satisfied moans for long and even though they might be heard by the whole apartment building, you let them out.

Minho lowers you down and you keep your arms around his shoulders, not wanting to let him go so he ends up lying on top of you. He places kisses on your neck and jaw, he turns your head to the side to place a kiss on your lips next.

“Minho?” You softly call between your exhausted pants.

His hand lingers on your jaw, “Mmh?”

You softly smile as you look at him and say, "I still don't want it to end.”

The earliest light of dawn filters in through the curtains, casting a soft glow across your room. Minho stirs awake, his body tuned to early starts, but he finds himself reluctant to leave the warm comfort of your bed. He turns slightly, his gaze falling on you, still sound asleep beside him.

There’s something so peaceful in the way you’re nestled against the pillow, your breathing steady and even, and he doesn’t have the heart to wake you.

For a moment, he just watches, taking in every little detail—the way your hair falls across your face, the gentle rise and fall of your chest. It’s a side of you he rarely gets to see, and he wants to hold onto this quiet moment just a little longer.

Just as he’s about to slip out of bed, you stir, blinking sleepily as your eyes find him. “You’re awake already?” you mumble, your voice soft and drowsy.

He offers a gentle smile, brushing a few stray strands of hair from your face. “Yeah, I have to head out early today. Busy day ahead.”

You sigh, a little pout tugging at your lips as you nod. “Alright. Go home safely, okay?”

Minho leans down, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your forehead and then your lips. “I will,” he murmurs, his voice a quiet promise. He pulls back just enough to meet your eyes, his hand still resting against your cheek. “Now go back to sleep, mmh? I’ll see you soon.”

You close your eyes, letting yourself sink back into the warmth of the bed, feeling the gentle weight of his words wrap around you like a blanket. With one last soft smile and a long peck on your lips, he pulls away, leaving the room with quiet steps, careful not to disturb the peaceful quiet of the early morning.

As Minho steps out into the early morning chill, he pulls his jacket tighter around himself, his footsteps echoing softly in the stillness of the street. The sky is painted in soft hues of blue and pink, a quiet beauty that feels worlds away from the life he’s about to return to—the endless rehearsals, the flashing cameras, and the carefully managed image he has to keep up for everyone else.

He pauses for a moment, looking back at your apartment building, a sense of longing settling in his chest. Leaving you always feels harder than he expects. These brief, stolen hours together are like little fragments of a life he can’t fully claim—moments he can only touch in secret, moments he treasures more than he can ever say. With you, he doesn’t have to be Minho, the actor. He can just… be.

But out here, as the city begins to wake, he feels the weight of that distance between his two worlds, the one where he’s a public figure and the private one he shares with you. And as much as he longs to stay in this quiet, hidden world a little longer, he knows he has to step back into the other, slipping on the mask he wears for everyone else.

With a steadying breath, Minho turns and walks down the empty street, blending into the first stirrings of the city. But even as he goes, a part of him lingers behind, held by the warmth of the life you share, waiting for the next time he can return to you.

The lights are hot and bright as the cameras start rolling, casting the whole set in a surreal glow. Han can feel his pulse quickening as he glances over at Minho, who stands effortlessly in front of the camera, already slipping into his role with a natural ease.

It’s their first day of filming, and Minho’s presence on set is undeniable—commanding and calm, as though he belongs here. Han’s seen him in countless dramas, admired his work from afar, but seeing him in action up close is something else entirely.

Han straightens, pushing down the nervous energy bubbling inside him. He wants to do his best, not just for the role, but because he respects Minho’s work.

As they begin their scene together, he mirrors Minho’s every movement, every expression, trying to match his intensity. The world around them fades, and for a moment, Han feels like they’re the only two people in the room. Acting alongside him is exhilarating, like catching a glimpse of something real—something that flickers into life only when they’re on camera.

But as soon as the director calls “Cut!” and the cameras stop rolling, it’s like a switch flips in Minho. His face hardens, his expression going from warm to distant in a heartbeat. Han watches as Minho steps back, slipping his hands into his pockets, his gaze averted and indifferent.

The shift stings more than he’d like to admit. He’s tried not to let it bother him—after all, Minho is a seasoned actor, and Han knows he’s still new to all this. He tries to remind himself that it’s just how things are, that Minho has his own process. But a part of him can’t help but feel like he’s being shut out, that maybe Minho doesn’t think he’s good enough to be here.

Still, he brushes off the discomfort, plastering a grin on his face as he walks up to Minho between takes. “Hey,” he says brightly, a playful note in his voice. “That last line—you totally nailed it. I don’t know how you make it look so easy.”

Minho gives him a polite nod, his expression neutral, barely meeting his eyes. “Thanks.”

Undeterred, Han leans in, grinning wider. “You know, I really want to learn from you. I’ve never done this before, so if you have any tips or, I don’t know, actor secrets… I’d love to know them.”

Minho’s gaze flickers toward him, unreadable. “Just do what comes naturally,” he says coolly, his voice even, before glancing back at the script in his hand.

Han can feel the subtle rejection, but he’s not one to back down so easily. Despite the distance Minho keeps, Han finds himself wanting even more to prove himself—not only to show he belongs here, but because something about Minho’s presence challenges him to be better. He might not understand Minho yet, and he might never break past that calm exterior, but he knows he can learn from him. And no matter how many times Minho brushes him off, he won’t stop trying.

As they step back into place, the cameras ready to roll again, Han shakes off the lingering doubt, focusing instead on the spark of excitement he feels at working with someone he admires. He’ll keep pushing, keep learning, even if it means playing his own game just to get Minho to notice.

After all, this is only the beginning.

Minho leans back against his bed, phone pressed to his ear as he hears your familiar voice on the other end. Just the sound of you, even over the phone, has a way of easing the tension that clings to him after a long day on set.

“So,” you say, your tone warm and curious, “how was the first day of filming?”

Minho sighs, letting himself relax for a moment. “It went… pretty well, I guess. It’s strange, doing something like this,” he admits, feeling the honesty flow more easily over the phone. “But everyone was professional, and the scenes turned out alright. Han, too, was… surprisingly good.”

“Oh?” Your interest piques, and he can hear the little smile in your voice. “I thought you weren’t sure about working with him.”

“I wasn’t,” Minho replies with a slight chuckle. “But he’s… not bad. Maybe it’s just beginner’s luck, but he’s got this energy that fits well on camera. Still, I don’t know.”

He pauses, considering his words. “He seems eager, almost like he wants to prove himself. But sometimes I feel like he’s trying too hard to impress me.”

“Well, maybe he is,” you say lightly. “He probably respects you, wants to do a good job, and maybe he’s just a little nervous.”

He huffs out a laugh, not answering directly. The truth is, he knows you’re probably right, but there’s something about Han’s determination that catches him off-guard. Maybe he’s just reluctant to admit how much potential he actually sees in him.

You’re quiet for a moment, then your voice softens. “Just try not to be too tough on him, Minho. He could learn a lot from you, and you might actually enjoy it.”

He hesitates, then lets the subject drift. “Anyway,” he murmurs, shifting the conversation, “what about you? How was your day?”

“Pretty routine,” you say, a little laugh coloring your words. “Nothing as exciting as your day, obviously. Work, home, the usual. But it was good.” There’s a beat of silence, a comfortable pause, before you add, “I wish you were here, though.”

The words hit him more deeply than he expected, and a quiet ache settles in his chest. “Me too,” he says, his voice softening. “I miss you. It’s strange being away, not getting to see you.”

“Think you’ll get to come by this week?” you ask, hope in your voice.

He sighs, his mind going to tomorrow’s early call time. “I’d love to, but I’ve got to be on set early. It’ll probably be like this for a while.”

A small pause, and he can imagine you nodding, understanding even without him saying it. “That’s okay. Just call me when you can. I’ll be here.”

“I know.” A faint smile tugs at his lips as he shifts on the bed, pressing the phone closer as though he could close the distance between you. “Soon, alright?”

“Alright,” you say, and there’s warmth and understanding in your voice that makes him wish he could be there to hold you.

He stays on the line a little longer, savoring the sound of your breathing, the easy silence between you that says more than words could. Finally, reluctantly, he whispers a soft goodbye, letting the call end.

“Goodnight,” he softly murmurs into the phone while imagining himself placing a soft kiss on your lips as he says it.

“Goodnight,” you say back and Minho imagines you're lying close next to him as you say it.

As he sets the phone down, he feels the empty space around him a little more sharply, a quiet reminder of the life he keeps separate from the world he’s about to step back into tomorrow.

The set hums with quiet activity as staff members move props around, adjusting lighting and prepping for the next scene. Minho lounges in his chair, script in hand, as he studies his lines for the upcoming scene—a heavy, emotional exchange that requires all of his focus. He’s done this countless times before, but it never gets easier. Emotion, raw and real, always takes something from him, and he’s already gathering his energy to make the scene hit just right.

Just then, the faint shuffle of footsteps pulls his attention. He glances up to see Han approaching, clutching a steaming cup of coffee with both hands. Han looks a bit awkward, his gaze shifting between the cup and Minho, as though he’s unsure whether he should go through with whatever he came over to say. Minho raises an eyebrow, curiosity tempered by his usual calm, as Han finally steps forward, extending the coffee to him.

“Here,” Han says, offering the cup with a nervous smile. “Thought you might need a pick-me-up.”

Minho accepts the cup with a polite nod, trying to read Han’s expression. There’s something hesitant there, like Han’s searching for the right words, but they’re just out of reach.

“Do you need something?” Minho finally asks, his tone more detached than he intends.

Han shifts his weight, looking down at his hands, clearly gathering his courage. “Actually… yeah, sort of,” he admits, his voice a little lower. “I, uh, wanted to ask if—if you could give me a few pointers. For the next scene.”

Minho’s first instinct is to brush it off. He’s not here to be Han’s mentor; he has enough to focus on himself. But just as he’s about to deflect, your words come back to him: Try not to be so tough on him. He feels a quiet sigh building but swallows it back, deciding to give Han a chance.

“Alright,” he says, keeping his tone measured. “What part are you struggling with?”

Han’s eyes brighten, his expression earnest. “I just… I don’t want to mess up. It’s an emotional scene, and I know I should be able to make it feel real, but I feel like something’s missing. It’s like I can’t quite reach the right emotion.”

Minho studies him, caught a bit off-guard by how genuine Han’s concern seems to be. There’s no sign of the overly eager performer he’d expected, no arrogance. Just someone who truly wants to do well, who wants the scene to mean something.

“Alright,” Minho says after a moment, settling back into his chair. “If you’re struggling to reach the right feeling, think about what the scene means to you. Imagine if it was a real experience you went through—how would it make you feel? How would you react if it were happening to you?”

Han nods, looking down thoughtfully as he takes in Minho’s words. “That makes sense,” he says, his voice quieter, almost to himself. “I guess I’ve been trying too hard to think of it as a performance, instead of… just letting it be real.”

Minho finds himself nodding, feeling a faint respect growing. “The camera picks up on everything,” he says. “If you’re holding back, it’ll show. Don’t worry about looking a certain way; just feel the moment, and the rest will fall into place.”

Han looks at him, something almost like awe in his expression, and for the first time, Minho sees past the nervousness and the enthusiasm. He sees Han’s passion, the quiet intensity that fuels him, and he realizes that maybe, just maybe, Han’s not doing this for appearances. He’s doing it because he genuinely loves the craft.

As they’re called back to set, Minho watches Han head toward his mark, feeling a flicker of something new—a recognition, a sense that maybe Han isn’t as unpolished as he’d assumed. He has potential, real potential, and Minho feels a quiet challenge stir within him. He hadn’t expected this, but maybe working with Han might be more interesting than he thought.

Minho frowns as he glances at his phone, refreshing his messages again. Between every take, he checks, hoping to see a notification from you. Since last night, he hasn’t been able to reach you, and as much as he tries to focus on work, an uneasy worry nags at him. And, if he’s honest with himself, there’s a touch of frustration, too.

Finally, his phone lights up with a message from you: “Hey, sorry I couldn’t reply sooner! I’m okay, just got a little busy. Call me when you can.”

Minho doesn’t waste a second. He hurries to his car, slipping into the driver’s seat to get some privacy, and immediately dials your number. You pick up on the second ring, but before you can even say hello, he’s already starting in.

“Where have you been?” he says, his voice sharper than he intended. “I’ve been trying to reach you all night.”

There’s a pause on your end, then you reply, sounding a little sheepish. “Sorry, Minho… I went out with some friends last night, and I was exhausted, so I went straight to sleep when I got home. I didn’t think you’d be so worried.”

He exhales, some of the tension easing now that he’s finally hearing your voice. “You could’ve at least sent me a quick text. I don’t like waiting around, wondering if something happened.”

“I know, I’m really sorry.” You sound genuinely apologetic, but there’s a lightness in your tone as you add, “I assure you I’m totally fine.”

But even though he’s reassured, he can’t help the faint jealousy simmering beneath the surface. He hates that he can’t be with you for a normal night out, can’t enjoy the easy, carefree moments you have with others. Instead, he’s here, locked in this demanding schedule that keeps him away from you.

“What are you up to now?” you ask, breaking his thoughts.

Minho smirks, deciding to take advantage of the moment to get back at you, just a little. “Well, we’re on a break right now,” he says, his tone casual. “But I’ve got an interesting scene coming up later—a kiss scene, actually.”

There’s a pause, then you laugh softly, catching on to his little game. “Oh, I already looked him up,” you say, a hint of amusement in your voice. “And yeah, I can see why the fans think he's cute.”

For a second, Minho feels his own jealousy prickling again, but he plays along, leaning into the teasing. “You sound jealous,” he says, savoring the reversal.

You laugh, feigning an exaggerated sigh. “Well, maybe I am. It’s not every day you get to kiss someone as adorable as him. I hope you’re making the most of it.”

“I guess you’ll just have to imagine it,” he replies smoothly, though the truth is, he can already picture your playful glare. The thought makes him smile, and the frustration that had built up fades just a little.

At that moment, one of the crew members calls out to him, gesturing that it’s time to return to set. Minho sighs, reluctantly pulling himself back to reality. “I’ve got to go. They’re calling me back.”

“Good luck with the kiss scene,” you tease, your voice light and warm.

“Thanks,” he says, a hint of a smile still lingering. “I’ll talk to you later, okay?”

“Okay. Don’t enjoy the kiss too much, Minho.” You add with a sly smile that he can hear through the phone.

He chuckles, hanging up with a smile that lingers even as he steps out of the car. As he walks back to the set, he can still feel the warmth of your voice echoing in his mind, carrying him through the challenges of the day and making him feel, just for a moment, like he’s not as far from you as he really is.

Han’s heart races as he glances over the script again. Today’s scene isn’t just any scene—it’s a kissing scene. He knew it was coming, but somehow, seeing it in writing and knowing the cameras will be rolling any minute makes it feel ten times more intimidating.

Not only is this his first time acting in a drama, but it’ll also be his first time kissing someone with an entire crew watching. His hands feel clammy, and he can’t quite calm the flutter of nerves in his stomach.

He paces a bit, hoping the movement will help him shake off the jitters, but it only makes him feel more visible, more self-conscious. The pressure mounts, and he’s starting to doubt if he can pull this off without looking completely out of place.

Just then, he hears a familiar voice, steady and calm. “Hey, you alright?”

Turning, Han finds Minho watching him, his expression unreadable but maybe… a little curious. Han realizes he must look as nervous as he feels. He laughs, trying to brush it off, but his voice sounds too high-pitched, even to his own ears. “Oh, yeah. Just… you know. First kissing scene and all.”

Minho raises an eyebrow, an amused smile playing at the corner of his lips. “First one ever?”

Han nods, scratching the back of his neck, feeling his cheeks start to burn. “Yeah. It’s just… not exactly something you get to practice with an audience.”

Minho considers him for a moment, then nods thoughtfully. “Alright. Do you want some tips?”

Han’s eyes widen, and he nods eagerly, grateful for the offer. “Yeah, definitely. I just don’t want to mess this up.”

“Alright,” Minho says, stepping close enough for Han to catch a faint hint of his vanilla tinted perfume, a subtle warmth that somehow makes the moment feel more intimate than he anticipated. “When you’re filming a kiss scene, it’s not just about the kiss itself. It’s about building the moment.”

Han nods, listening intently as Minho explains, his voice calm and steady. “First, you have to make eye contact—hold it, let the camera pick up on it. It’s about anticipation.”

Minho’s gaze holds his, unblinking, his eyes drawing Han in. Han swallows, trying not to look away, but there’s something intense in Minho’s stare that makes his heart skip a beat.

“Then, just before you lean in, close your eyes slowly.” Minho demonstrates, his eyelids lowering in a way that looks so natural, so effortless, that Han feels his breath catch. “You want it to look like you’re losing yourself in the moment, even if it’s just for the camera.”

Han tries to mimic it, closing his eyes as he’s been shown, and he hears a quiet chuckle from Minho. When he opens his eyes, Minho is watching him with a slight smile.

“Not bad. Just a little slower next time.” Minho’s tone is relaxed, and Han feels himself start to loosen up, reassured by his guidance.

Then, Minho moves closer, reaching up to show Han where to place his hands. His fingers lightly grip Han’s shoulders, then slide down, positioning Han’s hands at a comfortable height. Han’s pulse races as he tries to focus on Minho’s instructions rather than the way Minho’s hands linger on his arms, warm through the thin fabric of his shirt.

“For the camera, small details make a big difference,” Minho says, his voice soft. “When you put your hand here” —he places Han’s hand gently on his shoulder— “it should look natural, like you’re pulling the other person in. You don’t have to actually pull; just let it look like you could.”

Han nods, and they go through the motion slowly, Minho guiding him with subtle adjustments. When he’s finally in position, Minho lets out an approving hum.

“Good. Now, when you’re ready to lean in, you want to pause for a second, let the anticipation build. And when you’re close…” Minho’s voice trails off, and his gaze flickers to Han’s lips, just for a heartbeat, before he looks back into Han’s eyes. “That’s when you close the distance.”

Han’s heart is racing by now, every word and movement searing itself into his memory. They practice the approach a couple more times, each time stopping just before their faces are close enough to kiss. Each time, Han tries to stay calm, to focus on the details of what Minho is teaching him, but his heartbeat keeps betraying him. He’s intensely aware of every movement, every breath, every inch between them.

“Alright, now put it all together,” Minho says, stepping back a bit, though his eyes stay on Han with an encouraging nod. “Eye contact, pause, and then move in slowly.”

Han tries, replaying Minho’s instructions in his mind. His gaze meets Minho’s, and he holds it just a little longer, letting himself linger in the moment as Minho had shown him. Slowly, he leans in, placing his hand on Minho’s shoulder and letting his eyes close just before he’s close enough to kiss.

When he pulls back, Minho gives a small nod, a faint smile of approval on his face. “See? You’ve got it.”

Han exhales, finally allowing himself to relax, though he still feels a strange flutter in his chest. “Thanks, Minho. I... really appreciate it.”

“Just remember what we went over,” Minho says, stepping back as he glances over at the crew setting up for the scene. “When we film, just focus on the details, and it’ll come across naturally.”

As Minho turns to join the others, Han is left standing there, still feeling the lingering warmth of Minho’s touch, his mind replaying every movement, every glance they shared. He tells himself it’s just respect for Minho’s talent, admiration for his guidance. Yet deep down, he’s not entirely sure if that’s all it is.

Minho settles into place, a breath away from Han’s lips, his heart steady as he prepares to make the kiss scene look effortless. He’s honed his craft over the years, and this should be no different—just another kiss for the camera, a routine step in building their characters’ chemistry.

But as he leans in, he can’t help but recall your teasing words, the way you’d feigned jealousy about him getting to kiss Han. The memory slips through his mind at exactly the wrong moment, and his composure shatters. He lets out a small laugh, quickly turning his head to cover it up. The crew and director glance his way, and Minho raises a hand in apology.

“Sorry, that was on me,” he says, trying to stifle the smile tugging at his lips.

Han watches him, visibly confused, but thankfully, the director doesn’t dwell on the moment. Instead, he calls for another take, and everyone gets ready to go again. As they reset, Minho notices Han still looking at him, a faint crease of curiosity in his brow.

“What was that?” Han whispers, leaning closer. “You don’t usually break character.”

Minho just shrugs, an amused smile lingering on his face. “Nothing. Just…something came to mind.” He doesn’t elaborate, and Han seems to sense there’s more to it but lets it go as they prepare for another take.

As the camera rolls, Minho resets his focus, this time with a playful plan forming in the back of his mind. A way to tease you a little, to get back at you for that playful jealousy you’d shown. He moves in, letting his eyes drift down to Han’s lips just before he closes the distance, leaning in a little closer than he has to, lingering just long enough for the gesture to feel personal. His hand finds its place on Han’s shoulder, and he holds it there with a slight squeeze, making the moment feel as real as possible.

He senses Han stiffen slightly, taken aback by the closeness, but Han doesn’t falter. They hold the moment just long enough for the director to call “cut,” signaling the end of the scene. Minho pulls back, noting the faint blush coloring Han’s cheeks, and gives a small, apologetic smile.

“Sorry if that was... more intense than you expected,” Minho says quietly, keeping his tone light. “Didn’t mean to catch you off guard.”

Han clears his throat, the blush still there as he offers a quick shake of his head. “No, no, it’s fine. I mean...the director was okay with it, so…” He trails off, looking away for a moment before adding, “You did what felt natural.”

Minho gives a nod, inwardly satisfied as he thinks about how you’d react if you’d seen that take. It’s a harmless bit of fun on his end, but he knows he’ll enjoy teasing you about it later, letting you imagine just how “convincing” he made the scene. And as they move on to the next part of the filming schedule, he can’t resist a quick, sly grin, already thinking about what he’ll tell you the next time he calls.

Han’s fingers twitch as he waits behind the stage, heart pounding in his chest. The noise of the crowd is muffled by the curtain, but he can still feel the energy thrumming through the air, making his nerves spike. This is his first press conference, his first time promoting a drama as one of the leads, and the weight of it all presses down on him. He’s used to being in front of a crowd, but somehow, this feels different—more personal, more vulnerable.

He closes his eyes for a second, trying to calm his breathing, but the anticipation only makes his anxiety grow.

“Hey.”

Han’s eyes snap open, and he finds Minho standing beside him, studying him with a slight, knowing smile. There’s a calmness in Minho’s gaze that immediately makes Han feel a little more grounded.

“You good?” Minho asks, his tone gentle, but with a trace of amusement.

“Yeah, yeah, just… you know, a bit nervous,” Han admits, rubbing the back of his neck.

Minho chuckles softly. “That’s natural. First press conference for your first drama—it’s a big deal. But hey, you’ll be fine.”

Han nods, trying to absorb the reassurance, but Minho seems to notice the lingering tension in his posture.

“Look, when you go out there, just remember this: you’ve worked hard for this, and you belong here,” Minho says, his voice low and steady. “All you have to do is be yourself. And if things feel overwhelming, just look my way. We’re in this together.”

The words settle over Han like a warm blanket, easing his nerves bit by bit. He takes a deep breath, finding comfort in the simple yet genuine support Minho offers.

“Thanks,” Han says softly, feeling a grateful smile tug at his lips.

Minho gives him a nod, a small smile of encouragement lingering on his face. “Let’s go out there and show them what we’ve got, yeah?”

With Minho’s steadying presence by his side, Han steps onto the stage, feeling a renewed sense of confidence. As the questions begin, he finds himself feeling more relaxed, anchoring himself with the occasional glance at Minho, just as he’d promised. And when the interviewer eventually turns to Minho with a question about him, Han listens, his nerves now replaced with a curious anticipation.

“Minho, as a seasoned actor, what’s it been like working with Han Jisung, given that this is his first major acting role?”

Han braces himself, expecting something polite but brief. But Minho’s expression softens as he pauses, clearly choosing his words carefully.

“To be honest, I wasn’t sure what to expect at first,” Minho begins, his voice steady and sincere. “But Han Jisung… he’s surprised me. His passion for acting and his willingness to throw himself into the role has been inspiring, even to me. He doesn’t hold back, and he’s constantly open to learning and improving. For a newcomer, he brings a depth and commitment that not everyone has, and I think audiences will be able to see that right away.”

Han’s cheeks flush as Minho continues, his words unexpectedly heartfelt. Minho looks over at him, offering a small, encouraging smile.

“Han's energy on set has honestly made this experience refreshing,” he adds. “He’s kept things fun and alive, which has been a huge part of why our scenes have felt so natural.”

Han’s heart swells, his initial nerves completely forgotten as he absorbs Minho’s words. This is more than he ever expected, more than he thought he deserved. Hearing Minho acknowledge his efforts, and in such a public way, strikes a chord he hadn’t anticipated. He tries to focus on the rest of the press conference, but Minho’s words echo in his mind, leaving him feeling both honored and somehow vulnerable.

When the event finally wraps up, Han lingers, watching Minho as he chats with the staff. He knows now, without a doubt, that his admiration has grown into something more. And he wonders how much longer he’ll be able to keep it hidden.

Han has lost count of the days since filming began, but one thing has become impossible to ignore: the way his admiration for Minho has shifted, morphing into something deeper than respect. It’s a constant pull at his thoughts, this warmth in his chest that surfaces every time Minho offers him guidance, shares a laugh, or even gives a simple nod of approval after a scene. At first, Han tried to brush it off, telling himself it was just awe for Minho’s talent and dedication. But now he knows better. He likes Minho—more than he should, more than he ever intended.

But he keeps it to himself, swallowing back his feelings each time they surface. He doesn’t want to risk their work, their growing camaraderie, over a confession he’s not even sure Minho would welcome. So, he lets it simmer beneath the surface, content with the moments they share on set.

Today, though, his heart is beating a little faster than usual. Tonight, the first episode of their drama will air. The whole cast and crew are buzzing with excitement, anticipation hanging in the air as they wrap up filming for the day. Han watches as everyone exchanges plans for the evening, talking about where they’ll be watching the show, who they’ll be watching it with. He hears a few of the cast members mention a get-together to watch it as a group, and a thought strikes him, simple yet daring.

When the opportunity arises, Han gathers his courage and approaches Minho. “Hey,” he begins, keeping his tone casual. “Some of us are planning to watch the first episode together tonight. I was wondering… if you wanted to join?”

For a moment, Han feels a flicker of hope as Minho looks at him, appearing to consider the offer. But then Minho’s expression softens, and he gives a polite smile, one that Han can already sense holds an apology.

“I appreciate the invite,” Minho says gently, “but I’m going to have to pass. I’ve already got plans.”

Han tries not to let the disappointment show on his face. He nods, forcing a small smile of understanding. “Ah, that’s cool. No problem at all.”

Minho’s eyes hold a kindness that almost makes the refusal sting less, but only almost. “Enjoy it, though,” Minho adds, his voice genuine. “And don’t stress too much. I know you did great.”

Han swallows back the lingering disappointment and musters a grin, forcing a lighthearted laugh. “Thanks, hyung. I’ll try not to cringe too hard.”

Minho laughs softly and gives him a supportive pat on the shoulder before heading off, leaving Han watching his retreating figure. The ache of disappointment settles in his chest as he tries to shake it off. He tells himself it was just a small ask, nothing major, and that Minho’s absence doesn’t mean anything. But he can’t help but feel a lingering sadness, wishing—just for a moment—that he could be close enough to Minho for things to be different.

You make your way through the back entrance of Minho’s apartment building, slipping in with a comfortable familiarity that comes from many late-night visits. Inside the elevator, you scan the keycard he gave you, a small but meaningful token of trust. As the doors close and you begin your ascent, anticipation builds. It’s been a few days since you last saw him, and tonight feels special, knowing you’ll finally get to see the drama he’s been working so hard on.

The elevator brings you directly to his floor, and with a quiet thrill, you step into his apartment. The place is dimly lit, warm and quiet. It’s clear Minho isn’t home yet, just as you’d expected. Setting the bags of food on the counter, you begin unpacking, arranging the dishes you brought on his plates. As you’re finishing up, placing the food neatly on the dining table, you hear the faint sound of the door opening.

A smile spreads across your face, and you walk quickly toward the foyer, meeting him just as he steps in.

“Hey, stranger,” he says, his face lighting up the moment he sees you. Before he can say more, you’re in his arms, hugging him tightly. He holds you close, pressing a warm kiss to your forehead, and then another, softer one on your lips. For a moment, the rest of the world disappears, leaving just the two of you in the quiet of his apartment.

You smile at him when he pulls away and take his hand, “Hope you're hungry cause I brought some food.”

“Famished, actually,” he says as he follows you to the kitchen.

Settling into the cozy embrace of the sofa after dinner, you snuggle up next to Minho, draping a blanket over your laps as the drama’s opening credits begin to roll. Minho’s arm rests around you, his hand tracing gentle patterns on your shoulder, though his eyes are fixed on the screen, already fully immersed.

As he appears in the first scene, you can’t help but smirk a little. He’s clearly playing up the brooding lead, leaning into every intense look and dramatic pause.

“Wow, look at you, Mr. Intense,” you tease, nudging him gently. “Are you sure you’re not laying it on a bit thick?”

Minho sighs in mock exasperation, but there’s a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. “It’s called method acting. Ever heard of it?”

“Oh, definitely,” you say, trying to hold back your laughter. “You’re giving ‘mysterious and misunderstood’ a whole new level. That little eyebrow furrow—does that come naturally, or did you have to practice in the mirror?”

He chuckles, pulling you closer. “I swear, you’re the worst critic I’ve ever met. You know I actually have to think about these things, right?”

As the episode progresses, you continue your playful commentary. When he delivers a particularly intense line, voice low and dramatic, you can’t resist muttering, “Ooh, that voice drop… it’s like you’re trying to win an award for ‘Most Serious Actor Ever.’”

Minho groans, but there’s a soft glint in his eye that shows he’s not entirely displeased. “What do you know? This is serious acting.”

You shake your head, laughing softly. “Of course it is. I’m sure your fans are swooning over every word.”

But as the scene shifts to one where his character opens up about a vulnerable moment, your smile softens. You watch as he delivers his lines with surprising tenderness, the usual edge in his voice melting into something raw and real. For a moment, you’re caught off guard, watching as he brings a sense of depth to his role that you hadn’t fully expected.

Noticing your silence, he glances over at you, eyebrow raised. “See?” he says, a little smugly. “Still think I’m overdoing it?”

You roll your eyes but lean in, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. “Maybe I spoke too soon. You’re actually pretty convincing.”

A triumphant grin spreads across his face. “Knew you’d come around.”

And then, Han’s character appears on the screen. You watch him closely, intrigued by the dynamic he’s creating with Minho. He’s got an earnest quality that’s surprisingly convincing, even charming.

“You know, he’s actually pretty good,” you comment, glancing at Minho. “Not as bad as you said he’d be.”

Minho sighs, leaning his head back against the couch. “Okay, maybe I was a bit harsh,” he admits, sounding a little reluctant. “I wasn’t thrilled about his casting at first. I didn’t think he’d be able to keep up. But I have to admit, he’s… he’s got something.”

You nod, watching his face as he speaks. There’s a thoughtful look in his eyes as he stares at the screen, and you sense that his respect for Han has grown, even if he’s too stubborn to say it outright.

“It’s nice that you two get along now,” you say softly, giving his hand a gentle squeeze.

“Yeah,” he murmurs, almost to himself.

As the first episode wraps up, the screen fades to black, and you let out a satisfied sigh, glancing over at Minho. He’s watching your reaction carefully, clearly curious about your final thoughts.

“Well,” you say, drawing out the moment just to tease him, “I have to admit… you and Han actually have pretty great chemistry on screen.”

He raises an eyebrow, his lips curving into a smirk. “Oh, really?”

“Yeah,” you continue, feigning a dramatic sigh. “Almost enough to make me a little jealous.”

Minho chuckles, shifting closer and wrapping his arms around you. “Don’t worry,” he murmurs, leaning in until his face is inches from yours. “It’s all just acting, remember?”

“Uh-huh,” you reply, jokingly doubting his assurance with an eye roll.

“You know who has the best chemistry?” he asks with mock seriousness, he pats his lap, gesturing you to sit on it.

Without hesitating, you obey his words and does what he asked, sitting on his lap with your back against his chest and he begins rubbing the side of your thigh.

“Who?” You ask as you rest your head onto his shoulder.

"You and me," He answers without a beat then pulls you into a kiss, his playful tone fading into something softer, more genuine.

As you relax into his embrace, you feel the ease and warmth that only he can bring, and for now, any lingering worries fade away as he captures your mouth in a kiss again, and it’s so gentle you could cry.

“Dress off. Come on now.” Minho’s voice is rough and cajoling.

You don't know what it is about him that always makes you always submit to his wishes even though nothing would happen if you didn't. Yet, you always do it. You tug the hem of your dress and slightly get up from his lap just so you can take it off over your head.

Minho immediately pulls you close and puts his veined arms around you, you don't want it less than that. His hand grabs your chin to turn your head his way and presses a kiss, his tongue touches yours.

“All I’ve been thinking about all day is all the ways we’ll fit together,” his lips graze yours as he speaks as he sinks his mouth on you again, hard.

You never know with Minho because next, he's giving your throat the softest bites imaginable. He then slides his fingers into yours and rests them together on your chest. Here, this moment is sweet, soft and gentle, and... Minho.

The two of you begin kissing again, and the friction of your ass against his crotch is spurring him into a slightly heavier rhythm. His mouth is wet, soft, delicious. The moment he stops, even to take a proper breath, you tug him back.

After an eternity, he tangles his hand in the strap on your shoulder. He runs it lasciviously through his fingers pulling it taut, releasing it with the faintest snap, and then does it again.

“I like this color on you,” he murmurs as he cups your breasts through your bra.

He crashes his lips on your open mouth, hot and intense, it goes on until he successfully takes off your bra. The second he breaks the kiss, you're gasping for air.

He continues to fondle your breasts, the friction between you and him blooming outward. He scoops your hair away and presses his mouth on the side of your neck. He slides under and weighs your bare breasts in his hands. Slowly, gently, his fingers pinch that earned him a gasp from you.

There's nothing you like more than seeing his hands on you but what's more arousing is how you're the only one naked. He slides one hand down your front and the scrape of his nails makes your skin break into goose bumps.

It doesn't take long until his hand slips between your legs, feeling your sex through the flimsy fabric, tracing that bundle of nerves that engorged the more he touches it.

The next thing you know, the underwear is off and lying on the side of the sofa. He lands his hand right where you need him and he licks at the sheen of sweat beginning to mist your neck, making you drop your head to the back.

His skillful fingers know how to please you and just the sight of his hand touching you between your thighs is enough to make you feel hot all over. When he begins pumping his fingers in and out of you, you hear a faraway sound that you realize is you, whimpering, begging noises. He takes no notice and shows no pity. He presses his perfect mouth on whatever section of skin he pleases.

“Minho, please,” you breathlessly plead with your hand flies to his forearm, it's unclear whether you're trying to stop him or gesture him to keep going.

“What is it, honey?” He casually asks with a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

“Want you inside me,” you rasp with a brief, sweet kiss on his lips.

He endearingly brushes your head and kisses your lips, “You can have it, honey.”

Minho watches as you work open his jeans and pull the zipper down, and the second his erection sprang free, you wrapped your hand around it, stroking it. You don’t want to waste any more time waiting so you position yourself and slowly easing yourself down.

“Oh...” you moan the moment you fully take him and rest your back on his chest.

The slightest of movement and you can feel his whole length inside you, hot and hard, you lowly whimpering as Minho continues, one hand squeezing on your breast and the other is rubbing on your clit. As the knot inside you tightens, your body instinctively responds by slowly rolling your hips.

“That’s cute,” Minho murmurs as his mouth lingers close to your ear.

Half listening to his word, you turn your head his way and look at him. “Huh?”

He presses a haste kiss on your neck and answers, “I haven't moved yet you're already clenching around me.”

You put your arm around his neck and tangle your hand in his hair. “And maybe you should start doing your part too.” you say with a pout.

Minho smirks and then he tightens his hold around you, “You'd better hold on then cause I'm not going to hold back.” he warns you a second before planting a hard kiss on your lips.

One thing about Minho is that he’s staying true to his words, he's bucking his hips from under you, fast and without any intentions to stop. His arms tightly wrapped around you, keeping you steady as you bounce on his lap for every time he thrusts into you.

Breathless, incoherent noises are spilling out of your parted mouth as you cling onto the last shred of sanity. And when you think you can't take it anymore, Minho keeps pushing through until you fall apart around him.

He doesn't even give you time to gather your senses as he puts all of your hair away and kisses your lips. “You good?” he casually asks like he didn't just fuck your brains out a while ago.

“I'm dead,” you breathlessly sigh, completely spent. “I'm a ghost.”

Minho lets out a low chuckle in amusement. “I didn’t know I was lethal.”

“Oh, trust me. You are,” you say, bringing his head close to plant a soft kiss on his lips.

Minho puts his arms around you as you curl into him. The way he holds you right now is different, he holds you as if he's keeping a fragile object on his lap. He trails the length of your arms and then folds them together on your stomach. Together, you stay like that, simply existing in this shared world that only belongs to you and Minho.

The morning after the drama’s first episode airs, Han sits with his phone in hand, scrolling through endless comments and reviews. His heart lifts slightly at the sight of fans praising his chemistry with Minho; they seem excited about the pairing, and some are already declaring themselves fans of their on-screen relationship.

But the more he scrolls, the more his excitement fades. Articles from entertainment sites flood his feed, critiquing his lack of experience, questioning if he’s ready for the screen at all. A few words sting deeply: "too green," "stiff," "not quite convincing."

He exhales heavily, running a hand through his hair, trying to shake off the disappointment. But as he glances up, he catches Minho watching him from across the room, brows knitted with concern.

“Reading comments?” Minho asks, his voice gentle but knowing.

Han hesitates, but he nods, letting out a sigh. “Fans seem to like it… but the critics? Not so much. They’re saying I’m not ready for this.”

Minho moves to sit beside him, leaning back with a casual calm that Han wishes he could imitate. “Critics are always like that,” he says. “They can be harsh, especially with new actors.”

Han swallows, looking down. “Yeah, but... maybe they’re right. I thought I was getting the hang of it, but maybe I’m just not cut out for this.”

Minho gives him a long look, then shakes his head. “I don’t think that’s true at all. You’ve got something that can’t be taught—genuine passion. I can see it, and that’s not something every actor has.”

Han glances at him, a small glimmer of hope returning to his eyes. “You really think so?”

“Yeah,” Minho nods. “Look, we’re a team here. You’re not alone in this. If there’s something you’re struggling with, tell me. I’ll help you.”

A warmth spreads through Han’s chest, the comfort of Minho’s words easing the ache from the criticism. “I appreciate it, really,” he says softly.

Minho gives his shoulder a reassuring pat. “Just remember, it’s early days. If we keep working together and building on this chemistry we have, the audience is going to feel it too. It’s not about perfection; it’s about being present, letting yourself believe in the character.”

Han nods, taking in each word. “I’ll do my best. Thanks, Minho.”

Minho smiles, a slight glint of pride in his gaze. “Good. Now stop overthinking, okay? You’re doing great.”

Han laughs a little, the weight on his shoulders feeling lighter. He’s not sure how he’ll improve overnight, but with Minho’s support, maybe this acting thing doesn’t seem so impossible after all.

As he glances over at Minho, still sitting close and offering a steady, reassuring presence, Han feels a warmth that has nothing to do with his career. It’s more than gratitude, more than admiration. This kindness, this unwavering belief in him—Minho didn’t have to do any of it. And yet, here he is, making Han feel like he’s more than just an idol trying to act, like he’s genuinely capable of this.

In that moment, Han knows he can’t keep denying what he feels any longer. It’s not just respect or admiration. It’s something deeper, something he can’t easily brush aside. As much as he wants to hide it, to keep their friendship untainted by anything more, he realizes he can’t. Not when Minho is the one who makes him feel this way—seen, encouraged, understood. And, with a sinking heart, Han knows that those feelings aren’t going away anytime soon.

Han sighs as he rubs his temples, trying to ease the tension that's been building since the morning. He can’t seem to shake the restless feeling gnawing at him ever since he read those online critiques. No matter how many times he tells himself to let it go—just as Minho advised—the words stick like thorns. As filming wraps up for the day, Han is lost in his own thoughts, trudging toward the parking lot, when he hears footsteps approaching.

“Hey, you’re not leaving yet, are you?” Minho’s voice breaks through Han’s clouded mind.

Han looks up, surprised to see Minho standing there with a casual smile. “Uh, yeah, I was heading out,” he says, trying to sound nonchalant.

Minho raises a brow, eyeing him thoughtfully. “Come with me, then. I know a place—quiet, private. Good for clearing your head.”

The invitation is sudden, and Han blinks, caught off guard. But Minho is already turning, expecting Han to follow. A slight thrill rushes through Han as he nods, curiosity piqued. He falls into step behind Minho, trailing him to a discreet, cozy-looking cafe perched on a hill with a stunning city view.

The lights are dim, casting a soft, golden glow, and the atmosphere is intimate. Han notices immediately that the place is empty, giving them complete privacy.

“It’s nice here, right?” Minho says, glancing around. “A friend of mine owns the place. I rent it out sometimes, just to get some space.”

Han nods, feeling a strange mix of excitement and nervousness. Just the two of them, alone, in a setting so... cozy. He can’t help but feel the weight of his own feelings pressing down, undeniable. His gaze lingers on Minho, wondering if he senses the energy between them, or if—on some level—he already knows how Han feels.

His heart races, and, feeling bold, he almost asks—asks if Minho knows, if he’s aware of the effect he has on him. But before Han can get a single word out, he hears footsteps. He turns, just in time to see you walking toward them with a bright smile, your eyes lighting up at the sight of Minho.

“Hey,” you greet, and Minho immediately rises to meet you, pulling you into a warm hug and placing a gentle kiss on your lips.

“Oh, you’re here!” Minho says, his voice softer, affectionate. He turns to Han, still holding your hand. “Han, this is my girlfriend.”

Han feels something in his chest tighten. His smile falters for just a second, but he quickly pulls it back together, offering his hand to you as he forces out a polite, “Hi, nice to meet you.”

You take his hand with a warm smile. “Nice to meet you too, Han! Minho’s told me a lot about working with you.”

Han manages a nod, though his throat feels tight. He wants to say something—anything—but the ache in his heart makes the words stick. The sight of Minho with someone else, with you, sends a hollow feeling through him. He sits there, struggling to maintain his smile, all the while painfully aware that the private moment he thought he’d been sharing with Minho was never just his alone.

The table is set, plates of food and drinks laid out perfectly in front of him. But Han can’t bring himself to touch a single bite. His appetite vanished the moment you walked in, and now every glance at the couple across from him—at you and Minho—is like a quiet, twisting ache in his stomach. He feels faint, like his insides are tangled with something heavy and painful. He knows it's not hunger or exhaustion; it’s something deeper, a pang lodged firmly in his heart.

Forcing a smile, he tries to keep the mood light. He clears his throat and asks, “So… how did you two meet?”

You exchange a warm look with Minho, and he squeezes your hand gently before you answer. “We met at an event at the gallery where I work. I’m a curator, so I was helping with the art exhibition. Minho came as a guest. We didn’t talk much that night, but he found a way to reach out after.”

You chuckle softly, glancing at Minho with an affection that’s obvious. “And the rest, well… it just happened naturally.”

Minho nods, adding, “But we decided to keep it private, for now. I wanted to keep you out of the public eye, spare you the complications.”

There’s a softness in his voice as he speaks to you, a gentleness that makes Han’s heart clench. He can see it—Minho’s care for you, how serious he is about this relationship. The easy comfort you share with him is everything Han wants but can’t have.

A bitter taste fills his mouth, jealousy settling in a solid knot in his chest. He tries to hide it, but he feels every bit of his resentment boiling beneath the surface. He hates it—the way you and Minho fit so perfectly, the way you both look so natural together.

“So, Han,” you ask, turning to him with a friendly smile, “have you been enjoying the drama so far? You’re really good, you know.

“Thank you,” he simply responds with a courteous smile.

“And you're really cute in person, I can’t help but wonder... is there someone you’re secretly seeing too?”

Han swallows, feeling his throat tighten. He forces a small laugh, glancing away. “No, no one. I’m… just focused on work right now.”

He hates that he can’t admit the truth, hates that he’s here, across from you, pretending like everything is fine when all he wants is the person sitting right next to you.

You nod, looking genuinely kind, and somehow that only makes it worse. Han hates how nice you are, how you’re trying to connect with him. He hates how you and Minho look so in sync, how he can feel his heart tearing just from watching the way Minho looks at you.

Most of all, he hates that he can’t just shut off his own feelings. Sitting across from you both, he feels as if he’s being reminded of something he can never have, a painful dream that he knows he needs to give up on, but that still clings to his heart no matter how hard he tries to shake it off.

Minho watches Han carefully, noticing how his usual lighthearted energy seems to have dimmed. As they film take after take, Han's responses lack the spark that usually flows so effortlessly between them. The director's frustration mounts with each retake, his voice tight as he finally calls for a break, clearly exasperated. Minho feels the tension, both on and off set, but his mind zeroes in on Han, who has been uncharacteristically reserved all day.

Taking a deep breath, Minho strides over to Han, watching the younger man stare blankly off to the side, clearly lost in thought.

“Hey,” Minho starts, voice low but firm. “Is everything okay?”

Han shrugs, barely glancing his way. “I’m fine,” he mumbles, but Minho can tell he’s anything but. Han’s usual enthusiasm is missing, leaving an emptiness that’s throwing off their whole rhythm.

Minho presses, not willing to let it slide. “Look, we’re here to work, and the scenes are getting held up because of this...whatever it is.”

He’s careful with his words, knowing that Han is struggling but still needing to emphasize the stakes. “If you’re distracted, if something’s going on, just tell me. We have to get this done right, or we’re going to keep everyone here longer than necessary.”

Han sighs, brushing him off again, though Minho can see a flicker of guilt in his eyes. Minho softens his tone, sensing he may have come on too strong. “I’m only saying this because I want us to do well—and I can help, if you’d let me.”

There’s a moment of silence before Han nods, glancing away to mask whatever emotion is flashing through his expression. “Alright. Maybe we can practice the scene together.”

They sit down, scripts in hand, and Minho begins walking him through the lines. But as they work through each moment, he can't shake the feeling that Han is holding something back, a wall just behind his eyes that wasn’t there before. He wonders if something personal is weighing on him, though he knows better than to pry.

Han's heart races as he prepares for today’s scene, a new layer of anticipation weaving through his nerves.

It’s another kissing scene—something he used to dread, but this time, there’s a different kind of excitement, a yearning that feels both thrilling and bittersweet. He doesn’t have to force himself to seem close to Minho; the longing that he’s held back for so long is simmering just beneath the surface, ready to seep into the scene. For once, he allows himself to embrace it, just a little.

They run through a quick rehearsal, and Han tries to focus, but every subtle brush of their hands and each lingering gaze threatens to undo him. As they step into position for the actual take, he forces himself to take a breath and hold steady.

The director calls “Action!” and, with it, Han leans into the moment fully, letting every hidden feeling flow from him as they close the distance between them.

When their lips meet, Han pours every unspoken word, every ache, into the kiss. It’s more than just acting now—it’s a fragile connection that feels achingly real to him, even if only for this stolen moment. He lets himself feel it all, knowing this might be the closest he’ll ever get to showing Minho how deeply he cares. His hand brushes Minho’s cheek as they linger just a second longer, not wanting to let go.

Finally, the director’s “Cut!” jolts them back to reality. They pull away slowly, and as Han opens his eyes, he sees Minho’s expression shifting, as if caught in an unsaid question.

For a heartbeat, he thinks that maybe Minho sensed it—that somehow, in that kiss, his true feelings slipped through. But then Minho’s face relaxes, a warm smile spreading across his lips.

“You’re really getting the hang of these kissing scenes,” Minho says with a casual laugh, a glimmer of pride in his eyes.

Han’s stomach twists with disappointment, the remnants of that brief connection slipping through his fingers.

As Minho turns and walks off set, Han watches him go, knowing that his feelings remain hidden, unreturned. He wants to believe Minho felt even a fraction of what he did—but as reality settles around him, he knows it was only ever acting for Minho.

After filming wraps up, Minho lingers on set, barely able to shake the scene that’s been replaying in his mind. The kiss with Han felt different somehow—charged with an energy that was hard to pinpoint. He replays it in his head, wondering if maybe Han poured a little more into it, making it all the more convincing. Maybe he was just that good at acting, Minho tries to reason, but the thought keeps tugging at him, unresolved and pressing.

His phone chimes, breaking him from his thoughts, and his heart lifts when he sees your name light up the screen.

Opening the message, he’s met with a picture that instantly brings a smile to his face—a hint of mischief and a lot of allure, just like you. You tease him in the caption, making it obvious that you want to tantalize him this nude picture of you.

With a grin, he types back, playfully: “Not enough to cure it, you’re going to need to send more.”

And right on cue, you do, sending him another that’s even more provoking, arousing even.

“What you've been missing when you're away.” You write in a follow-up text.

“Maybe you should come to me instead.” He writes bacm but even in his teasing, there’s an underlying wish that you were really here with him, grounding him.

As he looks at your messages, Minho feels a deep warmth. Beyond attraction, beyond companionship, there’s a completeness in his life with you—a sense that he has everything he needs. And maybe, that’s what he needs to focus on, even amid his rising fame and unexpected connections on set. You’re more than enough; you’re what matters most to him, reminding him of who he is and what truly grounds him.

The day begins with a hint of anticipation buzzing in Han's chest, something he can't fully ignore. After yesterday’s kiss scene, he feels oddly lighter, but it hasn’t lessened his feelings for Minho—if anything, it’s intensified them. He worries that this pull he feels toward Minho will linger far longer than he’s ready to admit.

His first scene of the day is an intense one, an emotional scene he’s been rehearsing tirelessly. Though he knows Minho isn’t in the scene, a wave of surprise rushes over him when he sees Minho watching from a distance, blending in with the crew lined up behind the camera. A tiny flicker of nervousness unsettles him, feeling as though he’s being carefully assessed by Minho, even if it’s just him being there. The thought of wanting to impress Minho nudges at him, urging him to pour his heart into this take.

As the camera rolls, Han steps fully into his character, letting each line carry the weight of the scene’s emotions. He loses himself in it, forgetting even the people watching until, finally, he hears the director call, “Cut!” He lets out a breath, a sense of release, noticing his co-star’s encouraging smile and the director’s approving nod. But just as he looks for Minho, he sees him disappear behind a wave of moving crew members, leaving Han feeling strangely empty.

Later that day, after Han’s costume change, Minho finds him in a quiet moment. Han’s heart jumps as he notices the way Minho looks at him—a soft smile lighting up his face, more genuine than anything he’s seen from him before. That one look sends a rush through him, and when Minho speaks, his words only deepen the effect.

“That was a really good scene, Jisung,” Minho says with a warmth that Han can’t help but soak up. “You did great.”

The praise hits Han hard, and he feels both flattered and resentful of the ache it leaves. This approval, this smile—it's exactly what he wants, yet he knows how dangerous it is to hold on to it. Minho’s encouragement fills him with a quiet joy but also makes him painfully aware of his own unresolved feelings. Han wrestles between wanting to hold onto these feelings or forcing himself to let them go, but the choice only feels harder with every small moment like this.

As you sit on the couch, phone in hand, you glance once more at your screen. Still no reply from Minho. You’d sent him a couple of texts earlier, just checking in, but the lack of response now is stretching into hours. You tell yourself he’s probably caught up in filming—it wouldn’t be the first time—but still, you can’t help wondering what he’s up to.

Tonight is the broadcast of the new episode of his drama, and you’ve set up everything to watch it: dimmed lights, a cozy blanket, and your favorite snacks lined up on the coffee table. Just as you settle into the sofa, there’s a knock at the door. You weren’t expecting anyone; Minho usually lets himself in, and you can’t think of anyone else who would come by unannounced.

When you open the door, there he is, pulling down his mask to reveal that familiar sly smirk. His eyes are bright with that hint of mischief you love, and before you can even say a word, he’s leaning against the door frame, clearly pleased with himself for the surprise.

“Missed me, stranger?” he says with a playful grin.

You barely wait for him to step inside before you practically throw yourself into his arms, wrapping around him in a tight hug. Excitement bubbles over as you press a series of quick, affectionate kisses all over his face, earning a warm laugh from him.

“Missed you,” You whine as you hold his face in both hands.

Minho’s arms slide around your waist, pulling you close, and he murmurs against your hair, “I missed you too. That’s why I’m here.” He’s smiling as he says it, his tone light but his gaze soft, as if being here with you is exactly where he wants to be.

“You could’ve at least answered one of my texts!” you tease, poking his chest gently.

“That would’ve ruined the surprise,” he counters, his smile growing.

The two of you are cozied up on the sofa, his arm around your shoulders as you lean into his warmth, both fully engrossed in the episode playing out on screen. Every so often, you toss out a playful comment about Minho’s acting, teasing him for an overly dramatic look here, a “heroic” line delivery there. He chuckles along with you, sometimes leaning in to nudge your shoulder in faux protest.

Then, the intimate scene comes on, the one you knew would happen eventually but hadn’t quite prepared yourself to watch with him right next to you.

On screen, Minho and Han move closer, the scene building until the two share a slow, meaningful kiss. The room goes still, and for a moment, neither of you say anything, just watching the scene in silence.

As the kiss fades to the next shot, you exhale a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding. You give Minho a sidelong glance, raising an eyebrow.

“You know,” you say with a grin, “you didn’t even kiss me like that. I’m starting to feel a little jealous here.”

He laughs, a bit of color coming to his cheeks, and he lifts his free hand, shrugging playfully. “What can I say? I’m just a great actor,” he jokes, clearly enjoying the teasing exchange.

But then, something shifts. He grows quiet, his gaze softening as he looks at you, his playful expression fading into something warmer, deeper. He reaches out, taking your hand in his and intertwining your fingers with a gentle squeeze.

“You know that I love you, right?” He asks out of the blue.

“All of a sudden?” You ask back in utter confusion.

“I mean it. I love you so much.” He murmurs, his voice lower than a whisper.

The sincerity in his tone catches you off guard, and for a moment, all you can do is look at him, feeling the depth of his words sink in. It’s not often that Minho expresses his feelings so openly, and hearing him say it like this—it’s almost overwhelming.

You give his hand a squeeze, your heart racing. “I love you too,” you say, your own voice soft with emotion and lean in to plant a heartfelt kiss on his lips.

And as you settle back against him, you feel a sense of warmth and reassurance, a quiet understanding that nothing could come between you, not even a screen full of on-screen kisses.

As he waits to be called to set, Han steels himself, trying to bury the emotion stirring inside him. But he can’t shake the thought that his heart might betray him when it matters most.

The buzz of excitement and nerves in Han’s chest grows stronger with each step he takes toward the set. He’s been preparing for this scene, both mentally and emotionally, and he knows how important it is to the storyline, but there's more to it—this is the scene where Minho’s character will finally confess his feelings.

Han’s heart pounds harder just thinking about it, knowing the lines that will be said, the emotions that will pour out between them, even if it's all scripted.

He spots Minho on set, dressed sharply, looking even more stunning under the warm, intimate lighting. The setting feels romantic, with subtle touches arranged to evoke tenderness, and everything about it draws Han deeper into the atmosphere.

He takes a slow breath, trying to calm his nerves, but his hands still feel clammy, his stomach flipping at the thought of what they’re about to portray. He reminds himself it’s just acting, but when it comes to Minho, it feels like anything but.

When the director finally calls action, Han barely has a chance to prepare himself before Minho starts speaking, his voice low and sincere. The words Minho’s character says are filled with yearning, with raw honesty, and as Han listens, he finds himself lost in them, his heart aching as if they’re directed at him.

Without thinking, his body responds instinctively, as if it’s moving on its own accord. He reaches for Minho, stepping closer, and in the quiet pause between lines, he leans in. The kiss isn’t in the script, but it feels right, a raw improvisation that spills over the line between their characters and themselves.

For a moment, he forgets the cameras, the crew, and everything else—just the warmth of Minho’s presence, the closeness, the sense of something deeper.

In that split second, Han lets his own feelings slip, letting Minho feel what he’s held back all this time. It’s terrifying, yet exhilarating, and he can feel his heart racing as he wonders if Minho will notice, if somehow he’ll sense the truth beneath the surface.

As the director calls cut, Han steps back, trying to steady his breathing and his emotions. The kiss lingers in his mind, an echo of feelings he knows he shouldn’t have let surface, and he’s torn between regret and the quiet thrill of that moment with Minho. It felt real—too real—and he can only hope no one else noticed the depth of what he let slip.

But as he glances toward the crew lined up behind the camera, his gaze lands on you. You’re standing there, just out of the frame but close enough that it’s clear you’ve been watching.

Han’s heart skips, panic rising as he catches a look on your face that makes his stomach turn. There’s something in your expression, a subtle knowing, a hint of suspicion, as if you saw more in that scene than the scripted performance. It’s a look that seems to cut through him, one that makes him feel as though he’s been caught, exposed.

Han’s heart beats faster, his eyes quickly averting, but the feeling lingers, heavy and suffocating. In that single glance, he fears you’ve seen everything he’s been trying so hard to hide.

Disguised as Minho’s assistant, you make your way through the bustling studio complex, heart fluttering with excitement at the thought of surprising him. His manager is in on it, guiding you through the maze of set pieces and equipment with a casual nod, helping you blend in as just another member of the crew. You can hardly wait to see Minho in action, to watch him shine in the role he’s been so invested in.

When you finally arrive at the set, it’s just as he and Han are about to start filming. Quietly, you settle yourself among the crew, standing beside Minho’s manager as everyone prepares to watch the scene. Your eyes find Minho instantly, and you feel a swell of pride watching him work, completely in his element.

As the director calls for action, you’re immediately drawn into the scene. Minho and Han stand together, their faces a mixture of vulnerability and intensity. Minho delivers his lines with that familiar, effortless passion, but there’s something more, something unspoken in the way he looks at Han.

The air between them crackles with emotion, a depth of connection that feels almost palpable. Han responds with equal intensity, his gaze fixed on Minho, raw and completely believable.

Watching them, an unexpected pang of jealousy cuts through you. You’ve seen Minho work with countless actors, watched him perform in intimate scenes before, but there’s something different here. Their chemistry is undeniable, powerful in a way that feels unsettlingly real. The way Minho looks at Han… you’ve seen that look before, but it was meant for you.

An uneasy feeling builds in your chest, making it difficult to stay there any longer. Suddenly, being in the midst of the crew, watching this connection unfold, feels suffocating. You don’t want to make a scene, but you need some space, somewhere to process what you’re feeling.

Without drawing attention to yourself, you quietly slip out of the studio and make your way to Minho’s car. Sitting alone, you take a few deep breaths, trying to shake the images of what you’ve just seen, to push away the unsettling thoughts.

But they linger, and for the first time, you feel a strange sense of distance, as if the Minho you’ve known might be drifting somewhere you can’t reach.

Minho still feels shaken from that last scene, his thoughts tangled between reality and the emotions that flared up so unexpectedly. He wasn’t sure if it was acting or something more; the way Han looked at him, the intensity of it, felt… different. He steals a glance at Han, hoping for some kind of clue or confirmation, but before he can say anything, his manager approaches, letting him know that you came to set to surprise him.

He barely manages a nod before making a quick exit to the parking lot. As he reaches the car and sees you there, he feels an instant rush of relief. But as he takes in your expression, he notices something—a subtle hesitation, a shadow he can’t quite read.

The surprise in your eyes catches him off guard, almost as if you hadn’t expected him to come out so soon, like you weren’t fully prepared to see him.

“Hey, stranger,” he greets you, a smile breaking through the confusion swirling in his mind.

He quickly closes the distance, taking your hand, pulling you close as he wraps you in a tight hug. He kisses your lips softly, grateful that you’re here, grounding him after the surreal scene he’d just finished.

“Thank you for coming to see me.”

You give him a gentle smile, though he senses a slight distraction in your eyes. “I watched that scene you did with Han,” you say, your tone warm but reserved. “You were… incredible. So was Han.”

Your compliment touches him, but there’s something in the way you say it that feels… off. Before he can put a finger on it, you take a bag from the backseat. “Figure you'd be hungry so I brought you food.”

Minho gladly takes it from because he's indeed famished, unknowingly has skipped on a meal. He delivers his gratitude with a quick peck on your lips. “You know me so well.”

“Minho, I...” you talk with an edge to your voice and Minho holds his breath as he waits for you to finish your sentence. “I don't think I can stay long.”

“That’s okay. I'm happy just to see you even for a bit.” Minho, knowing he’ll be filming well into the night, doesn’t press you to stay, though a small part of him wants to. He doesn’t want you waiting around all night in discomfort.

“Alright,” he says softly, releasing you but keeps his hand intertwined with yours. “Make sure to get home safe and thank you for the food.” He gives you a warm smile, savoring one last kiss before letting you go.

Just before you exit the car, he catches a faint hesitation in the way you return his kiss. It’s fleeting, barely noticeable, but something about it lingers as he watches you walk away. He brushes it off for now, telling himself it’s just a long day getting to him.

Han’s heart races as Minho approaches him with that bright smile, so full of energy, as if the last twelve hours of filming hadn’t taken a toll on him at all. Han has been trying to stick to a plan—finish each scene and make a quick exit, not giving his heart any more time to catch up to the feelings he’s been wrestling with. But seeing Minho like this, so openly pleased to be near him, has him feeling dizzy with hope and dread all at once.

When Minho pulls him aside, Han’s pulse quickens. He can’t tell if he’s nervous or just bracing himself, wondering why Minho would be so close, why he’s leaning in.

“It’s my girlfriend's birthday and I uh... we're doing a get-together tonight and she wants you to come,” Minho’s voice drops as he tells Han about it and his eyes are steadily scanning his surroundings just in case someone is eavesdropping.

“But it’s okay if you can't come,” Minho is quick to add that there’s no pressure, that Han is welcome to decline.

Han knows he should turn it down, excuse himself with work or exhaustion, anything to put some distance between him and this moment that feels far too tempting.

But the way Minho’s eyes look at him, with that open warmth, makes it so hard to walk away. A part of him longs to be with Minho just a little longer, even if he knows he shouldn’t.

“Alright,” he hears himself say, his voice soft. “I’ll come.”

Han hadn’t known what to expect when he agreed to come to your birthday celebration, but a small, intimate gathering of just the three of you was nowhere near what he’d imagined.

There’s a cake on the table, candles lit and flickering softly, casting a warm glow over the empty café. Han and Minho sing you a slightly off-key version of “Happy Birthday,” and when you blow out the candle, Minho leans in and presses a soft, lingering kiss on your lips, murmuring a quiet, “Happy birthday, love.”

The kiss is both beautiful and unbearable for Han. He forces a small smile, trying not to look too long at how perfect the two of you seem together, how he can’t help but wish he were the one beside Minho in that way.

When it’s his turn, he clears his throat and offers a sincere, “Happy birthday. I, uh… I didn’t bring a gift yet, but I’ll make sure Minho delivers one soon.”

“Thank you, Han,” you reply, giving him a warm smile. “You being here is more than enough.”

The three of you share the cake, and while you all laugh and chat, Minho’s phone rings, cutting the conversation short. He glances at the screen and sighs. “I should take this—it’ll just be a minute.” He stands up and heads outside, leaving you and Han alone in a silence that settles thick between you both.

Han shifts uncomfortably, trying to think of something to say. “I really am sorry I didn’t bring anything. I… I just didn’t know it’d be this, uh… personal.”

You smile, but there’s something different in it. “It’s okay, Han. Actually… can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

You look at him for a long moment, and then, out of nowhere, you ask, “Do you like Minho?”

Han blinks, taken aback but he knows better to opt for a safe answer. “Of course. I mean, who wouldn’t? He’s a great guy, and he’s an amazing actor.”

Your expression remains calm but your eyes locked on his, staring intensely. “You know what I mean, Han.”

He stares at you, his initial denial withering under the weight of your gaze. His chest tightens, and suddenly, he feels vulnerable, exposed. “I… I admire him, I really do. He’s just… easy to look up to.”

But you don’t let him off that easily. You look at him with quiet understanding, and he realizes you already know. His voice falters as he adds, “I… I didn’t mean for it to be this way. I’ve tried to make it go away, but…”

His voice trails off, and he watches you, waiting for anger, for judgment—something. But instead, you surprise him.

“Then tell him,” you say gently. “When filming ends. You have until then.”

He stares at you, his heart racing. “W-What?”

“I’m giving you the chance to tell him yourself, Han,” you say, your tone gentle yet unwavering. “Whatever happens after that… well, that’s for the three of us to figure out.”

Han can’t believe what he’s hearing. A thousand thoughts flood his mind, but he has no chance to respond. Just then, Minho returns, looking between the two of you, sensing the strange tension.

“What’s going on here?” Minho chuckles, oblivious. “Did Han just remember he forgot to bring you a birthday present?”

You smile, deflecting with a light laugh. “Pretty much.”

Minho laughs, taking a seat beside you. “Well, lucky for you, I didn’t forget.”

He hands you a small, wrapped box, eyes twinkling. “Here—open it.”

You unwrap the box and find a delicate necklace inside. It’s simple but elegant, the kind of thing that’s unmistakably Minho’s taste. Your eyes soften, and Minho smiles, reaching over. “Here, let me.”

As he moves closer, his fingers brush your neck while he fastens the clasp. Han watches from across the table, feeling something heavy settle in his chest as Minho’s attention focuses entirely on you.

“There,” Minho says softly, sitting back with a satisfied grin. “Looks perfect on you.”

“Thank you,” you say, a touch shyly, your fingers brushing over the pendant.

Han forces a smile as he sits, his mind swirling. He feels as though he’s been given a choice he never imagined he’d have to make—and he wonders if he has the courage to take it.

Minho pulls up outside your apartment building, letting the car idle as he glances over at you. He wants you to stay, he always does, and tonight is no different. With a hopeful smile, he asks, “Are you sure you don’t want to change your mind? Just one night won’t hurt, right?”

You laugh softly, the sound warm but faintly tired, and shake your head. “I’d love to, but I have to leave early tomorrow. It’s the opening for the exhibition at the gallery, remember?” You pause, then add with a teasing grin, “Besides, we both know there wouldn’t be much sleep if I stayed.”

He chuckles, understanding immediately, though he can’t deny the disappointment that lingers. He always craves more time with you, more moments like these, but he nods in acceptance.

“Okay,” he says with a sigh of defeat.

As you turn to say goodnight, leaning in for a soft, lingering kiss, Minho feels something different, something beneath the surface that he can’t quite put his finger on. Before you can pull away, he draws you back in, pressing his lips to yours again, deeper this time, seeking the reassurance he hadn’t known he needed. There’s a quiet intensity in the way he kisses you, like he’s searching for an answer to a question he doesn’t know how to ask.

When he finally pulls back, his hand still rests on the back of your neck, thumb tracing gentle circles there. He looks into your eyes, brow slightly furrowed. “Are we… okay? You and me?”

Your smile is soft but slightly strained, your voice gentle as you reply, “Of course we are, Minho. Everything’s fine.”

But as you pull away, Minho can’t shake the feeling that your answer isn’t entirely convincing. There’s something lingering in your gaze, something unsaid, and it hangs in the air long after you step out of the car and wave goodnight.

Watching you disappear into your building, Minho grips the steering wheel tightly, his mind racing. He doesn’t know what’s bothering you or what’s weighing on your mind, but he’s determined to find out. Whatever it is, he’s not going to let it come between you—not if he can help it.

The flowers arrive just as you’re beginning to settle into your day, a bouquet bursting with blush roses and delicate lilies. Tucked inside, there’s a small, handwritten note: “Missed you, stranger.”

You can’t ignore the pang of guilt that hits you as you read those words. Lately, you’ve been putting distance between you and Minho, caught up in your work and all too aware of how it must feel to him. You send him a quick text to thank him, hoping it conveys more than just words. But before you can put your phone down, it rings, and you see his name on the screen.

“Hey,” he says, and there’s a warmth in his voice that immediately pulls at you. “So… did you get them? Do you like the flowers?”

You can hear the hopefulness in his tone, and it stirs something deep inside. “I love them. They’re beautiful, Minho. Thank you.”

His laughter is soft, but you can tell he means it when he says, “I kinda had to. You’re starting to feel like a stranger to me, you know?”

The pang of guilt sharpens. He’s not wrong. Your busy schedule has taken its toll, and your relationship has been on the quiet side for too long now.

“I’m sorry,” you murmur, hating how small the words sound. “I didn’t mean for things to get like this.”

There’s a pause, as if he’s letting your words sink in. “I miss you,” he says finally, and it’s so honest, so simple, that it breaks through all the walls you’ve been putting up.

You close your eyes, letting the warmth of his words settle in. “I miss you too, Minho.”

His sigh is full of relief. “Then let’s see each other this weekend. I’ll come over, or we can go out—whatever you want. Just… let’s spend some time together.”

You hesitate, knowing what you have to say next. “I wish I could. But… I’m going on a work trip. I’ll be out until early next week.”

The silence that follows is thick with his disappointment. “Ah,” he says finally, and though he tries to mask it, you can hear the hurt in his voice. “I get it. It’s just... been a while since we actually spent time together.”

You feel his pain like it’s your own. “I know. I’ll be back soon, I promise.”

“Alright,” he says, a touch of resignation there now. “Just… don’t be a stranger too long, okay?”

“Okay,” you say softly. “I won’t.”

When the call ends, you’re left holding the phone, staring at the flowers, and hoping that when you’re finally back, it won’t feel like the distance has grown too much for either of you to cross.

Han has been caught in a constant tug-of-war with himself, torn between wanting to keep his distance from Minho and feeling that undeniable pull toward him. He can’t stop thinking about you and the offer you made, the chance to tell Minho the truth—a chance he knows is dangerous to take, but also one he can’t stop thinking about. But for now, he’s settled for a safer distance. Not too far, not too close. After all, it’s not his fault if Minho is the one who keeps stepping into that space, right?

Sitting alone in the empty changing room, Han studies his script, though the words feel hazy, his mind clouded with everything but the lines he’s supposed to memorize. Then he hears the door open, and Minho walks in, dropping down on the bench next to him. Han hates the way his heart betrays him, lifting and quickening just at the sight of him.

Minho speaks quietly, his voice low even though they’re alone. “Hey… about that night at the uh... birthday party. Did something happen that I don’t know about?”

Han tries to play it off, plastering on a look of confusion. “Not sure what you mean, hyung. Nothing happened, really.”

Minho lets out a soft sigh, eyes narrowing in the way they do when he’s trying to figure someone out. “It’s just… she's been acting slightly different around me since then. And I thought maybe… I don’t know, maybe she mentioned something to you?”

Han swallows, trying to keep his face neutral even as his mind races. He can feel the weight of Minho’s gaze on him, searching for something—an answer, maybe, or just some kind of hint. He should tell the truth; it’s right there, at the tip of his tongue. He could just say it, let everything out, let Minho know exactly how he feels.

But his nerve falters, and he finds himself shaking his head. “No, they didn’t say anything to me.” The lie slips out too easily, and he hates himself a little more for it.

There’s a moment, a charged silence between them, as if Minho is still trying to pry the truth out of him without words. Han’s chest tightens, his lips part, and for just a second, he thinks he might actually confess, might let himself finally say it.

But before he can, the door opens again, and a crew member steps in, breaking the moment. Han glances down quickly, hiding the expression on his face, and when he looks back up, Minho has already shifted back into his usual easygoing self, the vulnerable moment now lost.

As Minho returns to studying his own lines, Han can’t help but wonder if he’ll ever have the courage to take the chance you offered—or if he’s doomed to keep it hidden forever, just out of reach.

Even though you know he might not read it right away, you send Minho a quick text the moment your plane lands. Just something simple, letting him know you’re home safe, so he won’t worry. The exhaustion of the trip starts to settle in as you unlock your door, finally home, ready for nothing but a hot shower and some rest.

After your shower, you’re standing in the bathroom, towel-drying your hair when you hear the front door click open. It’s surprising because you hadn’t expected him. You’d assumed he’d be busy on set, wrapped up in his usual back-to-back schedule.

“Hey, stranger, I didn’t—”

Before you can finish the sentence, Minho crosses the space between you, pulling you into a tight hug, his arms wound around you like he’s trying to hold onto you with everything he has. His kiss is different tonight—there’s something raw, almost desperate, in the way he presses his lips to yours, like he’s afraid he won’t get another chance.

You feel his hand slide to the back of your neck, holding you close, and the intensity takes you by surprise. You pull back just slightly, searching his face, and see something you haven’t seen before: Minho’s usual confidence replaced by a quiet vulnerability.

“Hey…” you say softly, brushing a thumb over his cheek. “What’s wrong?”

He looks away, almost as if he’s gathering himself, before he speaks. “I just… I feel like you’re slipping away from me. Like, you’re here, but… I don’t know, it feels like I’m losing you, and I can’t stand it.” His voice is low, but there’s no mistaking the emotion behind it.

He holds your gaze, his eyes searching yours, his expression so open, so raw. “I don’t want to lose you. I love you so much, more than I know how to say.”

The sincerity in his words cuts through any distance that’s been creeping in between you two, and you feel your heart swell. You reach up, threading your fingers through his hair, brushing it gently away from his face.

“Oh, Minho,” you murmur, pressing a reassuring kiss to his forehead. “I’m here. I'm not going anywhere.”

Later that night, your naked bodies are tangled around each other on the bed, he has you under him, your hands are tightly clasped as Minho thrusts into you at a painstakingly slow pace. No games, no teasing, no playful, naughty comments in between kisses, it's just Minho making sweet, sweet love to you.

His brown eyes are deeply looking into your eyes, making you feel naked, more exposed than you already are. You know that he loves you but seeing him this vulnerable and openly admitted how much he fears losing you... you endearingly brush the hair falling over his forehead away and smile at him.

“Minho...” you place a tender rub of your thumb on his cheek and whisper, “I love you so much.”

Minho doesn’t say anything but tilts his head slightly to the side and lowers his mouth on you, placing kisses that trails up your neck and eventually finds its way to your lips. Soon, his body closing in the gap between your bodies until they mold into one and move in sync. You feel him relax around you, his arms loosening, but his grip on your hand remains firm. You lay close together in the quiet, his head buried in the crook of your shoulder, the room filled with an unspoken promise—one that feels stronger than ever.

You stir, feeling a warm, familiar presence beside you, followed by the softest kisses trailing across your bare shoulders. For a moment, you wonder if you’re still dreaming. It’s so rare for you to wake up with Minho still in bed—usually, his early mornings mean you open your eyes to an empty spot beside you, the only trace of him being the faint scent left behind on his pillow.

But this time, as you turn over, Minho’s face is right there, his eyes lighting up as he realizes you’re awake. He leans in, pressing a warm, gentle kiss to your lips.

“Good morning,” he murmurs softly, his voice still sleepy and fond.

You blink at him, smiling as you pretend to be in awe. “Is this real? You’re actually here, watching me sleep?” you tease. “I have to admit, I could get used to waking up like this.”

He smiles, a playful glint in his eye. “Guess I got lucky and don’t have an early call today,” he says. “Plus, I thought I’d stick around, make you breakfast for once.”

“Wow,” you say, dramatically widening your eyes. “Breakfast in bed? Someone pinch me—I might actually be dreaming.”

Minho raises an eyebrow, then grins mischievously. Instead of pinching you, he leans down and gives your shoulder a playful bite, making you laugh as you push him away.

“Okay, okay!” you say, laughing. “Guess I’m awake after all.”

He chuckles, leaning in to plant one more quick kiss on your lips before he gets out of bed, throwing on a t-shirt and glancing back at you with a smile that makes your heart flutter. You feel so at ease, so light, as you watch him head toward the kitchen. For once, he’s here, sharing an ordinary morning with you, and there’s nothing dreamlike about it—it’s perfectly, wonderfully real.

It’s a rare, quiet morning, and Minho can’t help but savor it. He watches you across the table, laughing over breakfast as you share your plans for the day. There’s a calmness in this moment that he rarely gets, and he wants to remember it—the way you smile, the way sunlight falls on your face, the easy rhythm between you.

As he thinks about the upcoming wrap-up party, he realizes it’s the perfect chance for the two of you to step out together, and he doesn’t want to hold back anymore. Setting his fork down, he gathers his nerve and finally asks, “Hey, would you come to the wrap-up party with me?”

Your eyes widen slightly, and Minho can tell you understand the risk—he’s putting his career, his privacy, all of it on the line for this relationship. But he doesn’t care; for the first time, he feels ready, willing to risk the whispers, the stories, the scrutiny.

“Okay,” you answer with a nod, agreeing without hesitation.

Minho feels a surge of warmth and relief. You’re ready, too, and that means everything.

But then you bring up Han, almost out of the blue. “How’s Han doing?” you ask, a casual question, but one that catches Minho off guard.

“He’s doing well,” Minho replies, not thinking much of it at first. He explains a little about the last few scenes they filmed, how the entire crew is working hard to bring the final moments together.

You nod, listening intently, but then you ask another question, one that feels a bit more pointed. “Are you two still filming those... emotional scenes?”

Minho studies your face, sensing something beneath the surface of your curiosity. You’re searching for something, a hint of something you’re not ready to say. He knows you well enough to see it, and while he doesn’t press you, a quiet worry lingers in his mind.

The last day of filming feels heavier than Han ever imagined. He should feel relief, maybe even pride—but all he feels is a gnawing sense of urgency. It’s his last chance to tell Minho how he really feels, and though he’s been avoiding it, he knows he’ll regret it if he never says a word.

Taking a deep breath, Han walks over to where Minho stands, chatting with a few crew members. His hands are clammy, his heartbeat loud in his ears as he taps Minho’s shoulder. Minho turns, and his expression lights up with that easy, familiar smile, but seeing it makes Han’s heart ache even more.

“Hey, Han!” Minho says warmly. “We did it. Congratulations on finishing your first drama.”

Han manages a small smile, mumbling, “Thanks... same to you.”

There’s a pause, a space where Han can feel himself teetering between holding back and letting go. He opens his mouth to speak, to say the words he’s been holding onto for so long, but before he can, Minho speaks again.

“You know,” Minho starts, his tone sincere, “I’ve had a great time working with you. Really, Han, we made a good team.”

Han’s stomach tightens, sensing where this is going.

“And what I really appreciate is how professional you were about everything,” Minho adds, a subtle emphasis lingering in his words. His eyes hold a quiet understanding, as if he already knows what Han was about to say and is gently letting him down.

The words stick in Han’s throat, dying on his lips. Minho’s kindness is unmistakable, and his meaning is painfully clear. Han swallows, a bitter taste filling his mouth as he nods, trying to keep his expression neutral.

“Yeah,” he replies softly, forcing a smile. “It’s been... really great.”

But inside, he feels his heart breaking, each beat carrying a weight he can hardly bear as he takes a step back, feeling as though he’s losing something he never even had.

Han manages to keep his expression steady, even as he feels the weight of the moment pressing down on him. Minho, still smiling, extends his hand.

"See you at the wrap-up party later?" Minho says, his tone light and friendly, as if unaware of the ache that’s slowly eating away at Han.

Han hesitates for just a second before he reaches out, clasping Minho’s hand. The handshake feels formal, a sharp contrast to all the warmth, laughter, and quiet moments they shared over the past months. For Han, it’s a goodbye he’s not ready to say, but he squeezes Minho’s hand tightly, holding onto it just a heartbeat longer.

“Yeah... I’ll see you there,” he says, forcing the words out with a nod.

Minho gives him one last friendly smile before letting go, his fingers slipping away, leaving Han’s hand cold and empty. Han watches him walk away, feeling the finality of that handshake settle deep in his chest. This was it—the end of everything they’d built together on screen, and perhaps, a reminder of everything that could never happen offscreen.

As the door closes behind Minho, Han is left standing alone, trying to gather himself for the celebration ahead, all while feeling like he’s quietly mourning a loss that only he understands.

The wrap-up party buzzes with excitement and laughter as everyone gathers to celebrate the drama’s success. Minho’s hand in yours is warm and steady as he leads you inside, a small but powerful gesture that feels like a silent promise. This is your first time stepping into his world, publicly, and your heart races with a blend of nervousness and exhilaration. You know what this means—for both of you. Minho glances down at you and smiles, a comforting reassurance that you’re right where you belong.

As he introduces you around, you find yourself meeting the director, the crew, and Minho’s fellow cast members. Each of them is surprised, but warmly so, learning that Minho is dating someone outside the industry. Their welcoming smiles help ease the tension you’ve been holding, though it’s Minho’s presence, steady and unwavering at your side, that really keeps you calm.

Then, across the room, you spot Han. He’s chatting politely with some cast members, appearing as cheerful as everyone else, but there’s a heaviness in his gaze that betrays him. You see through the calm facade, sensing a quiet sadness lingering beneath it.

When there’s a brief lull, you find a chance to speak with Han alone, pulling him aside to a quieter corner of the room. He looks at you, surprised, and then a hint of understanding softens his expression.

“Why didn’t you tell him?” you ask softly, not wanting to intrude, but hoping he’ll confide in you.

Han gives you a sad smile, his eyes flickering with something unspoken. “Because… I had Minho,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper.

You’re caught off guard. “What do you mean?”

He lets out a small, bittersweet laugh, his gaze drifting away as if he’s seeing something distant. “In those scenes, in the drama,” he begins, voice thick with emotion. “I had him. For that time, we were… everything I’d wanted us to be.”

He pauses, taking a breath, collecting himself before looking back at you with quiet acceptance. “It was enough. Because that’s what Minho and I could have been—but what we’ll never be.”

The weight of his words settles over you, a haunting realization of what he’s endured in silence. There’s nothing you can say, so you simply place a gentle hand on his arm, sharing in his sorrow, understanding the depth of his unspoken feelings.

Han gives you a small, grateful nod before he glances away, quietly pulling himself back into the celebration. Watching him go, you’re left with a mix of empathy and sadness, understanding now just how deeply he loved Minho—and how he’s finally letting him go.

As the party winds down and you and Minho leave, his hand finds yours once more, intertwining your fingers as you walk into the quiet night. There's a warmth to his touch, an unspoken reassurance that grounds you, yet Han’s words still linger, leaving a bittersweet ache in your chest. You feel torn between the happiness of being with Minho and the weight of knowing what Han silently gave up.

Once you’re inside the car, sitting beside Minho on the passenger's seat, you can’t shake the feeling that tonight has left a lasting mark, especially on Han.

Minho notices the quiet contemplation in your expression and turns to you, eyebrows raised with a gentle curiosity.

“Ready to go home?” he asks, reaching to gently trace his thumb along your hand.

It seems like he's just snapped you out of your trance as you get a bit startled by the gentle squeeze on your knee. “Mmh, yes, I'm ready.”

You offer a convincing smile as you lean into him and try again. “Let’s go home.”

As the car launches forward, you find yourself holding onto Minho’s hand with a newfound appreciation. Han’s journey may have ended in heartbreak, but in some way, it brought you and Minho closer, and you can only hope that one day, Han will find someone who will give him a real happy ending, but more importantly, he find a story that’s all his own—a story that doesn’t end when the cameras stop rolling.

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jellysmosh · 27 days ago

Text

I’ve Met Someone That Makes Me Feel Seasick

Summary: Why was it that every single time you saw your cute new neighbour you absolutely embarrassed yourself? Vaguely inspired by the song Kill the Director by The Wombats.

Pairing: Spencer Agnew x GN!Reader

Tags: Fluff, neighbours, silly rom-com vibes

Word count: 4.9k

Note: Hi! I haven’t written fanfic for years and this is my first time writing something for Smosh, so please be gentle with me lol. Please enjoy and let me know what you think!

☆

You were a retired hopeless romantic.

You were no longer big on romance. It wasn’t that you weren’t interested in potentially dating in the future, you just were not really keen to date right now. For the past few years you’d gone through your fair share of weird talking stages and situationships that kept leaving you more drained and emptier than the last. Unfortunately, the single men in the current dating pool brought you nothing but disappointment with a side of psychological trauma.

It was after you broke things off with your last partner/situation/ball and chain that you decided that maybe a celibacy oath was the way to go. Not only did you catch him texting other girls on Instagram, they weren’t even replying to his desperate messages. Somehow the failed attempt to cheat was more disgusting to you than the actual act of cheating. The optimistic side of you chose to push through and sail past the red flags only to find this guy was just as awful as your friends predicted. That was your problem for most of your life: you were full of hope and second chances and unconditional love (which is dangerous without the critical thinking skills to go with it).

But no more! You have had enough of men stepping all over you. You were tired of being used for your love and attention and emotional support, and if that meant you were going to be single for the rest of your life, so be it! That beats spending it with some guy working in finance whose opening line on Tinder was ‘you tryna send pics or nah?’ Your single era started now.

☆

Anti-Romance Day 30 was looking good until it wasn’t.

It was a rainy Saturday with no plans, which meant staying holed up in your apartment and watching movies in your pyjamas. Against your better judgment, you selected a romantic comedy, carefully opening a bag of popcorn fresh out of the microwave as How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days started up on your television.

By the end of the film, you were choking on tears at the thought of your failed love life as Kate Hudson and Matthew McConaughey made out on screen. This was a mistake, nothing made you yearn for romantic company more than a sappy movie. You wanted to dramatically curse at the universe for making real life dating such a complete hellscape.

Was it even the men who were the problem here? What if you were just undateable? What if you were such an awful potential partner that you only attracted the weirdo freaks and all the good ones hit skip?

You shook your head to clear it.

There was no point thinking like that when you knew it wasn’t true. You were attentive and loving and communicated very well, all the ideal components of the perfect partner. Your cooking was… questionable, but you gave great hugs!

Your thoughts were interrupted by your phone ringing.

It was your UberEats delivery man and he was pissed. Apparently the instructions you sent him to get to your apartment were too hard to understand, and you had to go down and meet him or he was going to drive away with your KFC family meal (don’t judge). In fear of losing your money and fried chicken, you practically flew out your apartment to retrieve your food from the lobby. Walking from the elevator back to your apartment, you make an earth shattering realisation, you forgot to grab your front door key before going to get your food.

A few things about this situation: your key fob to access the building and elevator were on your car keys (currently in hand), and your front door key was strapped to your bag (currently inside the apartment). Also, your apartment door was one of those heavy duty ones that automatically locked from the outside. To summarise: you were fucked.

“Shit!” You practically shouted, tightening your grip on the paper KFC bag, “fuuuck!”

“Uh, are you okay?”

You jumped in surprise. In all the chaos, you didn’t even notice that the door to the apartment next to yours was propped open and a man stood just inside the doorway, staring at you. He was holding a cardboard box with both hands, brown curls peeking out from under a baseball cap, wireframe glasses sitting in front of deep green eyes, and a confused expression on his face. He was so cute.

“Who are you?” You blurted out without thinking, your cheeks immediately flushing, “sorry, I mean- I thought Old Mr Chan lived here.”

“Oh, he moved out”, the stranger replied. He turned to place the box down on a nearby table before stepping out of the apartment. “My name is Spencer, I’m moving in today”, he held his hand out and you tentatively shook it with your free hand.

“I’m Y/N. Sorry about earlier”, you sighed, of course the first time you met your new neighbour was at a time like this. You were hyper aware of the fact that he probably watched you stand in the hallway cursing at your door while holding a giant KFC bag, hair greasy, in your Hello Kitty print pyjama pants, eyes obviously red from your little crying session a few minutes ago.

“No worries”, he smiled, oh god, his smile was beautiful. “I’m assuming you’re my neighbour?” He glanced at your asshole of a front door. “Why were you swearing at it?”

You sank even deeper into your embarrassment as you explained the situation to him. Talk about first impressions.

“Oh!” An idea popped into your head and Spencer looked at you expectantly. “What if I go through your apartment onto your fire escape and then like shimmy across to my window along the ledge-“

“What?” He exclaimed, eyebrows raised, “are you crazy? No way, that’s so dangerous. And are you sure your window’s unlocked?”

You paused.

“Yeah, you’re right… Do I really need to call a locksmith?” You scrunched up your nose. You could feel Spencer still looking at you and it made you extra self conscious. You knew you looked insane right now.

He hummed in thought. “The building manager was meant to come by in a bit to drop some stuff off for me, maybe you can ask him to help you out when he comes?”

You perked up a little, “yes! Sounds good!” You smiled at him despite yourself. You may have given a terrible first impression to your new neighbour, but at least you would probably get back inside your apartment today.

After some only slightly awkward small talk with Spencer, the building manager arrived and after explaining the whole mess, shot you a disappointed look and went to retrieve the spare key to your apartment.

“You’re a lifesaver”, you gushed to the building manager, offering him a now cold chicken tender which he rejected before grumpily entering the elevator. You were just happy your front door was now open, merrily sliding inside, you called out, “welcome to the building, Spencer!”

For a second, the sweet smile he showed you in response made you forget that you looked a mess and was just having an emotional breakdown. Your cheeks turned red as the door clicked shut.

☆

“Coming!” You yelled out, abandoning the dishes you were washing and jogging over to your front door after hearing the doorbell ring. You checked the peephole only to find Spencer standing there, hands in pockets, waiting.

You gulped. The situation where you were locked out with a big bag of fried chicken had happened a couple weeks ago and you hadn’t really spoken to Spencer since. You saw him only a couple times in the hall and you did not exchange much besides quiet ‘hello’s and nods of acknowledgment. You took a deep breath and swung the door open.

“Spencer! Hi!” You tried to smile like a normal person. “What’s up?”

“Hey, Y/N”, he looked at you with those pretty eyes and you silently thanked god you weren’t dressed in pyjamas this time. “Sorry to randomly pop over like this.”

“It’s fine”, you waved your hand, pretending to be nonchalant, “what can I help you with?”

“I’m totally being a bother but could I please borrow a couple eggs?” He sheepishly grinned, slightly rocking back and forth on his feet as if he was embarrassed this time, “I’m in the middle of cooking something and I didn’t realise I was out.”

“Sure”, you opened the door wider for him, “come in, I’ll go grab them for you.”

Now was it wise to let an almost stranger into your apartment? No. Was it neighbourly though? Kind of!

He thanked you before following you into your apartment. He even left his shoes at the door upon noticing all your shoes sitting on racks right next to it. You were flattered by his observance, it had been a while since a man with any kind of consideration of your habits and taste had been in your residence.

You led him to the kitchen.

“I’m certain I have some in the fridge”, you said over your shoulder, “I get through them pretty slowly.”

“Your place is really nice”, he complimented you while walking through the kitchen doorway. You glanced over at the mismatched chairs at your dining table and the clock on the wall painted to look like a pizza. You couldn’t tell if he was being sarcastic or not.

“Thanks…”, you murmured tentatively, “I don’t often hear that honestly-“

Your sentence got cut off when you slipped on the small puddle under your shitty kitchen sink left from when you were doing the dishes. You were midair just for a half second before landing on your butt.

“Oh my god”, Spencer rushed over to you, “are you alright?”

You groaned at the literal pain in your ass.

“Yep”, you choked out as if your tailbone wasn’t killing you, “just a little trip, I’m all good.”

He helped you up anyway, hands steady but touch soft. You felt yourself blushing at the contact, suddenly realising this was the first time he had touched you since your initial handshake. Once you were upright again, you turned your head toward him and felt your heart jump at how close he was to you. If you wanted to, you could have counted his eyelashes. You immediately broke eye contact and sped over to the fridge, this time making sure to step around the water on the floor.

“U-um, just two eggs, was it?” You shoved your face into your fridge, both checking how many eggs were in the carton and hoping the cold air would cool your face down.

You heard Spencer clear his throat after a pause, “yeah, yeah, just two.”

You handed him the eggs as he replied with a soft ‘thanks’, and on his way out he seemed to hesitate. Stopping halfway out the door, he turned to face you.

“Not that I was, like, purposely looking or anything”, he said quietly, eyes not meeting yours, “but I think when you slipped, you landed in the puddle because there’s a wet patch on the- uh… back of your jeans.”

You blankly stared at him.

“Just thought I should let you know before you sit down and make your couch wet or something”, he finally looked you in the eye again and he also seemed to flush when he saw your clear embarrassment.

“Thanks for letting me know”, your voice came out almost like a squeak. He nodded as he thanked you again for the eggs and scurried off back to his apartment next door.

Once your door shut again, you felt the back of your pants. Yup, your entire ass was wet.

Look on the bright side, you thought to yourself as you unzipped them so they could dry off of your body, at least he knew it was water and you didn’t have to convince him you didn’t pee your pants. You dryly chuckled to yourself as you stood in your underwear, hanging your jeans on a clothes rack.

No romance, you thought to yourself, don’t even let yourself think about it.

☆

“I really don’t know if we can fix it”, Spencer furrowed his brow. He was bent down next to you as your hands fumbled around the pipes under his sink with one hand and a wrench clasped in the other.

You two had been speaking to each other more since he saw you with a big wet patch on your ass. You had exchanged numbers in the elevator a few days after, Spencer claimed it was in case you got locked out again or he needed more eggs. Brief text conversations every now and then gave way to livelier elevator conversations and amicable chats in the hallway. You would consider him an almost-friend at this point and you were glad you were getting along well with him, despite you embarrassing yourself seemingly every single time you interacted.

And here you were, knelt down in his kitchen after texting back and forth about his sink no longer working.

“Have some faith”, you murmured, preoccupied with fiddling with a valve you located on the side of a pipe.

“Do you know anything about plumbing?” He asked incredulously, running a hand through his unruly hair. It was late Sunday morning, and he had clearly not styled it. Your heart rate had picked up when you saw him, in his sweatpants and messy bed head, it felt so intimate to see him not done up and ready to leave his house. You had ignored the thumping in your chest and followed him to the kitchen.

“Well… no”, you leaned back, grinning at him. That earned a loud laugh from him that caught you a bit off guard. Even his laugh was cute, that was so unfair. “But I think we can D.I.Y this, maybe we should check YouTube?” You stood up to grab your phone off the counter and he laughed again.

“You want to check YouTube?” His tone indicated he didn’t seem to take your suggestion seriously.

“What?” You were playfully defensive, “I go there for all kinds of tutorials, it’s great. I love YouTube!”

He got up to stand next to you, watching over your shoulder as you opened the app.

“Yeah, me too”, he muttered, “I kinda work there.”

“What?” You looked away from your screen to address him. He was closer than you realised, head hovering over your shoulder. You willed your heartbeat to slow down lest he heard it. “I didn’t know you worked at YouTube.”

“Well, not at YouTube. I work for a YouTube channel”, he pointed at your phone, “don’t worry about that right now, I’ll tell you about it later. Try finding something that will help us fix my sink please.”

He said he was going to tell you about it later. He wanted to talk to you later. You felt like you could float out the window and fly away. You pushed the feeling down and made sure your feet were solidly planted on the floor.

“Oh right”, you locked back in, searching for a video that looked helpful. After skimming through a few, you had a bit of an idea. “Okay, let’s try checking that thingy pipe and if that doesn’t work, we might need to do more research.”

“So technical”, Spencer replied, bemused. His eyes sparkled when he smiled.

“Well, if this fails, you can come over and use my kitchen while it gets fixed”, you tried your best to keep your tone level, as if the image of Spencer cooking in your kitchen didn’t make you giddy with excitement. “My sink works perfectly fine.”

“Yeah, I know”, Spencer laughed, referring to the last time he was there.

You looked away from him, flustered. You swung your wrench around a bit and headed back to the sink before he could notice. He watched as you bent down. You decided you probably needed to get as low as possible to find the pipe they were talking about in the video. You squatted down as deep as you could go and froze. A loud ripping noise stopped you in your tracks.

“Uh oh”, Spencer chimed from behind you and you didn’t dare to turn around to see his expression.

You closed your eyes. This couldn’t be happening. You were so sure today was going to go well, you had visions of hanging out with him and him being so impressed you could fix his sink. It was meant to be the start of your redemption arc. Well, it looked like things had headed in the opposite direction because you had just fucking ripped your pants like a cartoon character.

“There’s no way”, you whispered in disbelief, “there is absolutely no way that just happened.”

You slowly stood and turned to see Spencer leaning against the opposite counter, eyes on the ceiling.

“Oh, it definitely did”, he was so clearly trying to hold in his laughter. “I’m not looking so you can preserve your modesty.”

Your face was beet red, feeling the backside of the pair of old jeans that had failed you twice in the span of a couple weeks.

“Shit, did you see my underwear?”

“I don’t want to lie to you…”

“Spencer!”

“I’m sorry!” He put his hands up in surrender, failing to hold in his giggles now, “I didn’t mean to! How was I supposed to know you were planning on splitting your pants on my kitchen floor?”

You groaned in frustration, hands covering your crotch. He looked back down at you, hands still in the air. You stared at each other before you both burst into laughter. As embarrassed as you were, the situation was far too funny for you to take it seriously. You were both doubled over with tears in your eyes.

“You took playing plumber too literally”, he gasped out, “you showed crack and everything.”

“No, I did not!” You shouted, tears of laughter spilling down your face.

Once the hysteria passed, Spencer lent you a sweater to tie around your waist in case somebody in the hall saw you with your pants crotch split open.

“You should probably call the building manager”, you said to him as he walked you to his door, “I fear I’m not cut out to be a handyman.”

“Yeah, not really,” he said bluntly, but the smile on his face was wide.

“I’ll give your sweater back later today”, you stood just outside his door, he leaned against the doorframe.

“It’s okay, you can hold onto it for a while”, he replied. The softness in his voice made your stomach turn in a way that was both pleasant and upsetting. “I have to head out later and run some errands so I won’t be here.”

You had this urge to ask to hang out with him a little longer, to ask if you could come with him to run his errands, to prolong the time you spent with him as much as you could. He had this gravitational pull that made you want to stay in his orbit. But you knew that feeling well and it had gotten you tangled up in too many messes for you to count. You steadied your emotions again.

“No problem”, you shrugged, like it meant nothing to you that you had his sweater on you. “Thanks again!”

You waved as you side-stepped over to your own apartment. He lingered in the doorway for a little longer, watching you unlock your door. You could feel his eyes on you, you wondered if he was staring because you looked good or completely ridiculous. You glanced at him one more time before entering your apartment. He looked like he wanted to say something more but crossed his arms and smiled instead.

“See you, Y/N.”

“Bye, Spencer.”

☆

Texting Spencer slowly became part of your everyday routine. It was one of the highlights of your day - random thoughts, memes, both of you complaining about stuff happening at work. He had taken up a comfortable spot in your mind and he didn't show any signs of leaving soon. You had begun to value him so much as a friend, you tried your hardest to ignore any kind of romantic attraction you felt for him.

Like you had decided before, you were taking a break from romance anyway. He had become such a good friend to you that you were focussing more on getting close to him platonically.

You felt like you could tell him anything. You had both opened up to each other over the past weeks. He had told you all about his work at Smosh, the pressure he felt that kept him up at night sometimes, but also the absolute blast he had working with the people he loved so much. You had told him about your terrible luck for your entire dating history and the conclusion you came to recently that being single for the rest of your life was on the table, but at the same time, the tumultuous nature of your love life had brought your close friends even closer. You had shared these moments with him where you felt like time was standing still, smiling at your phone in the dark while in bed, hushed conversations in the hallway walking from the elevator to your doors, smiling tiredly at each other in the lobby before work on a Monday morning.

You loved spending time with him, whether it was 30 minutes or 30 seconds. But sometimes his cute smile made you feel like you couldn’t breathe, his charming sense of humour made you feel like you were being knocked off your feet, and when those beautiful eyes gazed at you with all his attention, it made you feel positively seasick.

Shit.

☆

You had a day off work and you spent it doing a bit of shopping (you needed new jeans) and got home in the afternoon to a few texts from Spencer. He was going to get back to his place in about half an hour and asked if you wanted to have dinner together. This was not anything new, a huge perk of becoming good friends with your neighbour is that you got to hang out whenever you wanted.

‘Sure thing’, you texted back, ‘bring some takeaway and you can choose the movie.’

‘Deal.’

Less than an hour later, you heard your doorbell chime and then he was handing you a bag of food from Homestate while kicking off his boots. It just felt so easy, letting him into your space, making you belly laugh with a story about Angela from work. You bet he knew it too, how much you loved his presence, he had that twinkle in his eye whenever you gave him attention, with that cheeky smile, how could you look away?

“I can’t believe you haven’t seen Alien”, Spencer sat back on the couch after hitting play on the movie.

You shrugged next to him, “it’s not that I don’t watch horror movies, I just never got around to it.”

“Well, prepare to get your mind blown”, he turned to stare at you like this was life or death.

You laughed. “God, you’re corny.”

“Yeah, yeah, you love it.”

You didn’t bother replying to him, rolling your eyes playfully, you began to dig into your food while the movie started. With your head down, you hoped he didn’t notice you still blushed like an idiot when he spoke to you like that.

It was really good, hell, it was probably a great movie. The problem was you kept getting distracted. Finished food abandoned on the coffee table, you kept glancing over at the man comfortably laid back next to you like he belonged there. You were sitting tight together, arms touching. You resisted the urge to cuddle him, you were friends for sure but you didn’t want to cross a boundary that he might not be comfortable with. Anyway, if you guys did cuddle, he would definitely feel how fast your heart was beating. Even now, with your upper arms pressed against one another and your knees occasionally knocking together, it felt like a million tiny electric zaps every time you made contact.

Spencer loved movies, he was a movie guy, and you loved that he was a movie guy. You loved the way he lit up talking about them, his eyes glued to the screen and reacting to everything that happened like it was personally happening to him. He really felt the films he liked, he was open-minded and enjoyed being immersed in them. You couldn’t help being attracted to his passion and excitement, and watching every microexpression on his face instead of the movie itself. It was alright though, because he would always answer your questions when you got confused.

“You’re so patient with me”, you grinned absentmindedly, trying to focus on Sigourney Weaver running through the spaceship. When you realised what you said, you tried to play it off, “like, as in, you never get mad at me for getting confused.” You attempted to laugh in a light, casual way, it came out sort of hollow sounding though.

Yeah… playing it real cool, you thought to yourself sarcastically. You forced yourself not to look at him but you could feel his gaze on you.

“Of course”, his voice was so soft, you almost missed it. Your will broke down immediately and you turned to him. You didn’t think you had ever seen that expression on his face, it was gentle and open, ignoring the movie for once. You felt your breath leave your lungs, like your chest was about to collapse and you were going to throw up.

“Thank you”, you murmured, not knowing what else to say. “For being so… good to me.”

What the fuck were you saying? Oh my god, oh my god, shut up-

“I can’t imagine ever not being good to you”, he mumbled back, “and I’m not that patient.”

Your heart was in your throat, your heartbeat was so loud in your ears, you couldn’t hear the yelling from the television. You slowly pressed the pause button and tossed the remote aside without looking away from him.

“What do you mean?”

“Something about you makes me so impatient”, he was whispering now and you felt yourself being drawn closer like a magnet. “Sometimes”, he swallowed thickly, “I think about you and I lose all my chill. I just want to stop what I’m doing and see you.”

Seeing him like this, cheeks slowly reddening and eyes wide and vulnerable, it felt more intimate than sex.

“S-sorry”, he stuttered out.

“No”, you rushed, your hand instinctively grabbing his forearm and he jumped like you had just shocked him. You slowly realised that while you had been trying to ignore your attraction to Spencer, he may have been doing the exact same thing. “I feel the same way”, you said breathlessly, “I think about you every single day.”

“Me too, every day”, he nodded in agreement, “it’s been hard to not think about you all the time ever since I saw you sprint down the hall in your Hello Kitty print pyjamas.” You threw your head back in laughter, his gorgeous laugh mixing with yours. “I couldn’t help falling for you, you landed in a puddle in front of me in your own kitchen. And then you ripped your pants in mine.” You were in hysterics at this point, as embarrassed as you were in those moments, it was absolutely hilarious in hindsight.

“Oh my god, I can’t believe you like me”, you caught your breath, “I had no idea.”

“I didn’t want to push anything”, he said sincerely, “I had no idea if you liked me like that, and after learning about your whole swearing off romance thing… I thought I had no chance at all.”

“Well”, you reached up and fiddled with the string of his hoodie, almost feeling the heat coming off his body, “that was before I met you.”

His smile at that moment was so bright, you swore it lit up the entire room.

“You’re amazing, Spencer”, he held your free hand in his, gently running his thumb along your knuckles, “I tried to avoid my feelings but I couldn’t do it. I like you so much it makes me sick.”

“Sick?” He laughed. You loved making him laugh.

“Yes, sick”, you giggled in reply.

Both of you were slowly inching towards each other, noses almost bumping. His eyes flicked down at your lips and then back up to your eyes. You gave the tiniest of nods, giving permission, and he immediately leaned in. And then your lips connected, it was like every romantic movie you had ever seen combined and ten times better. You could almost hear the swelling music score as his hand delicately cradled the side of your face. You felt like electricity was running through your veins and roses were blossoming inside your chest. He tasted sweet like the lemonade he just had, and you tightened the grip you had on his hoodie string. He hummed contently against your mouth, his other hand pulled you closer, until you felt engulfed in his arms, his scent, him.

So much for a retired hopeless romantic.

✩

♡ masterlist

#starsfics #smosh #smosh fanfiction #spencer agnew #spencer agnew x reader #spencer agnew fanfiction #smosh x reader #spencer smosh

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wachinyeya · 4 months ago

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From Mossy Earth on Youtube (3/2/25):

Big news - we’ve been awarded £544,558.76 of funding to plant 4.2 ha of seagrass meadow in the Scottish Highlands across three years!

🌱 🌱 This project follows extensive baseline and investigative surveys, as well as small seagrass translocation trials undertaken in 2024, supported by the Scottish Government’s Nature Restoration Fund (NRF) that’s managed by NatureScot. The delivery of planting 4.2 hectares of intertidal seagrass meadow over three years will be supported by the Scottish Marine Environmental Enhancement Fund (SMEEF), an initiative supported by the Scottish Government’s Marine Scotland Directorate, NatureScot and Crown Estate Scotland.

🌊 The vision of Wilder Firths (Linneachan nas Fhiadhaiche), formerly known as Cromarty Seascape, is for the firths surrounding the Black Isle to be home to a resilient mosaic of biogenic habitats that support diverse and thriving ecosystems. Central to achieving and sustaining this vision are local communities that are connected to and invested in their coastal environment.

🦪 Historically overlooked in the area, seagrass meadows are one of the focus habitats of Wilder Firths alongside native oyster (Ostrea edulis) reefs. Seagrass species in the area are dwarf eelgrass (Nanozostera noltei), common eelgrass (Zostera marina) and beaked tasselweed (Ruppia maritima). Common eelgrass encompasses variants that are found either inter-tidally or sub-tidally whereas dwarf eelgrass and beaked tasselweed are only found in the intertidal zone.

🔎 As well as collecting and planting seed with other members of the local community, our team will trial more experimental approaches such as transplanting seagrass with sediment (coring) and mechanised seed collection and planting. Small scale trials of intertidal seagrass coring, a method previously used by Restoration Forth, indicate that the method could be an effective way to restore seagrass meadows when compared with other methods such as seeding or transplanting bare root seagrass plants.

💪 Want to be part of the team delivering this project? We’re hiring a Seagrass Officer and a Community & Funding Officer. There’s still time to apply! Applications close midnight on the 7th of March. Learn more here: https://www.mossy.earth/jobs?utm_sour...

#scotland #mossy earth #restoration #seagrass #marine life #rewilding #environmentalism #good news #science #environment #nature #conservation #conservation biology #ocean life #oceans #sea life #sea

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sieglinde-freud · 5 days ago

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ONE HOUR?!

need to binge every fogado support i need to refresh my memory of him completely

#ann gets engaged #‘just read the script’ NO #it would be faster but i feel like for sov houses and engage the voice acting is REALLY important in setting the tone for each support #bc the actors and voice directors chose these deliveries for a reason!#in past fire emblems u figure out how each character said each line urself but if theyre doing it for you i think that is important #and my GOD i love zeno robinson i think hes fantastic and i think he rly gets fogado so #it would be a crime to not listen to how he chose to portray him #BUT MAN. ONE HOUR?!

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fearfulfertility · 8 months ago

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CONFIDENTIAL LOGISTICS REPORT

DRC, Planning & Evaluation Office, Logistics & Infrastructure Division

Date: [REDACTED]

To: Director [REDACTED]

From: Administrator [REDACTED], Logistics & Infrastructure Division

Subject: Facility Expansion: New Paternity Compound Construction

Executive Summary

This report outlines the ongoing expansion of DRC-operated paternity compounds across several strategic locations nationwide. In response to increasing insemination rates and projected surrogacy demands, we have begun constructing new high-capacity compounds to accommodate more surrogates. These expansions will enable the DRC to streamline the conscription process, optimize surrogacy cycles, and ensure our ability to meet the population sustainability targets outlined for the next fiscal period.

The new compounds focus on enhanced security, specialized medical equipment, and increased surrogacy capacity.

I. Facility Expansion Overview

Strategic Locations and Site Selection

To ensure regional coverage and minimize travel time to detain and inseminated surrogates, the DRC has approved the construction of [REDACTED] new paternity compounds in FEMA Zones 4, 6, 7, and 8. These facilities will be situated in [REDACTED] areas, selected for their proximity to population centers, existing transport infrastructure, and relative isolation, ensuring operational security.

Zone 4: Atlanta, GA

Zone 6: Houston, TX

Zone 7: Omaha, NE

Zone 8: Denver, CO

Each compound is designed to accommodate [REDACTED] surrogates at any given time, with the ability to scale up to [REDACTED] in emergencies. Construction is scheduled for completion within the next [REDACTED] months, with the first inspections set to begin by [REDACTED] this year.

Paternity Compound Design Features:

High-Capacity Paternity Wards: Each compound contains specialized wards designed to manage surrogates carrying up to sedecatuplets (16), with private rooms for those at risk of premature labor.

Enhanced Monitoring Systems: Advanced surveillance and biometric monitoring ensure constant oversight and swift response to emergencies.

Security Enhancements: Reinforced containment protocols, secure access points, and patrol routes have been established to prevent unauthorized access and ensure surrogate compliance.

II. Specialized Equipment and Medical Support

Given the unique demands and expectations placed on surrogates, each paternity compound will be equipped with advanced medical infrastructure to ensure the safety and effective management of extreme weight gain, reduced mobility, and increased risks of organ stress.

Key Equipment and Infrastructure:

Reinforced Support Beds: Traditional hospital beds have proven insufficient for surrogates carrying high multiples, whose pregnancies can lead to total weight gains exceeding 200 lbs. Each ward will feature reinforced, adjustable support beds capable of accommodating extreme weights. These beds will be equipped with pressure-relief systems to minimize discomfort and reduce the risk of bedsores for near-immobile surrogates.

“I hate that I’m here! But… all I have is this bed! I can’t move, I can’t breathe half the time, but at least I have a fucking memory foam mattress!” - Surrogate S118-176-J, 27 days pregnant with decatuplets (10)

Automated Feeding & Hydration Systems: Automated systems will ensure continuous nutrition and hydration to support surrogates with reduced mobility. Given the caloric intake requirements for such pregnancies, these systems will monitor and adjust fluid and nutrient delivery, reducing the need for frequent staff intervention.

“I’m basically just a machine now, aren’t I? They hook me up, pump me full of these stupid protein shakes, and keep me breathing so I can keep carrying these bowling ball-sized kids. It’s disgusting!” - Surrogate S117-138-N, 18 days pregnant with quattuordecatuplets (14)

Custom Mobility Aids: Custom-designed lift systems and mobility aids will be integrated into each ward to facilitate the movement of surrogates. These devices will allow for safe repositioning, transfers to specialized birthing chairs, and support during transport.

“I don’t know how they expect us to move with this much weight on us. Even standing feels like my legs are going to snap. Those lifts? They’re humiliating... but without them, I wouldn’t be able to get out of bed at all.” - Surrogate S120-494-P, 30 days into a sedecatuplets (16) pregnancy

Advanced Fetal Monitoring: Each compound will have real-time ultrasound and biometric monitoring stations to track fetal development. Given the accelerated gestational period, these systems will continuously update fetal positioning, size, and viability, enabling rapid response to complications.

"It’s terrifying. Knowing how big they are, how many there are… they’re not coming out normal. When I finally pop them all out, they’ll get better care than I ever did!" - Surrogate S119-667-N, 22 days pregnant with hendecatuplets (14)

Dedicated Obstetrics & Neonatal Care Units: Immediate neonatal care is essential, and each compound will include state-of-the-art neonatal intensive care units (NICUs) to support newborns. Advanced incubators and respiratory support systems will ensure the survival of even the most premature babies.

"They always tell me how important it is to ensure the babies survive, even if I don’t. I get it, I do… but knowing there’s a whole team of people ready to take over the second I’m gone? It’s like they’ve already decided how this ends." - Surrogate S117-856-M, 8 days pregnant with tridecatuplets (13)

Pain Management and Sedation Systems: Surrogates will experience extreme discomfort and physical strain. Each paternity ward will be equipped with integrated IV pain management systems, allowing for both localized and systemic pain relief. Sedation protocols can be initiated remotely if a surrogate's distress becomes vocal, ensuring they can not incite civil disorder.

“I’m so big I can’t even see my dick, which is now buried under all these babies and fat. I’d be lying if I said the meds didn't help to blitz me out of my mind... a caring them I'm a gigantic incubator now.” - Surrogate S119-461-L, 11 days pregnant with dodecatuplets (12)

Future Equipment Developments: Research teams are exploring next-generation mobility aids, including exoskeleton support harnesses, to provide mobility assistance for late-term surrogates. These innovations aim to improve surrogate survival to deliver full-term pregnancies. Once available, prototypes will be tested in select compounds.

III. Expansion Strategy: Future Projections and Scaling

Projected Surrogacy Demand: With the increase in insemination rates, each compound is expected to handle up to [REDACTED] inseminations per month once fully operational. This translates to a need for approximately [REDACTED] newborns annually to meet population sustainability targets. Our current projections indicate that these numbers are achievable.

IV. Conclusion and Recommendations

The successful construction and operation of these new paternity compounds are critical to effectively maintaining the DRC’s ability to enforce surrogacy mandates. Our specialized equipment and infrastructure improvements will ensure we meet demands while preserving control over our surrogate.

Report submitted by: Administrator [REDACTED], Logistics & Infrastructure Division

----------------

Sending...

Read...

----------------

To: Administrator [REDACTED], Logistics & Infrastructure Division

From: Director [REDACTED], DRC

Subject: RE: Facility Expansion: New Paternity Compound Construction

Dear Mr. [REDACTED],

I’ve reviewed the latest progress report on the new Paternity Compounds, and I must commend your team on the impressive strides made thus far, even with the ambitious timeline we’ve set.

I have been particularly interested in the improvements to our birthing suites. As you are well aware, managing multiple pregnancies presents unique challenges.

We are entering a critical phase. I want to emphasize that these upcoming births will set a precedent for all future operations. The successful use of these new facilities will allow us to demonstrate that our methods ensure the next generation's survival and that we can handle the demands without sacrificing efficiency or outcomes.

I look forward to seeing the first results when the initial surrogates reach full term and the birthing suites are fully operational.

Keep up the excellent work, and do not hesitate to reach out if additional resources or support are needed to ensure success.

Regards, Director [REDACTED]

----------------

Click Here to return to DRC Report Archives

#ai mpreg #male pregnancy #mpreg #mpreg kink #mpreg belly #pregnant man #mpreg morph #mpreg caption #mpregbelly #mpregstory #mpreg birth #mpreg art #mpreg story #mpregnancy #mpreg roleplay #male pregnant #caucasianmpreg

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hotvintagepoll · 1 year ago

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Propaganda

Ava Gardner (The Killers, The Barefoot Contessa)— She's so goddamn hot. Her and Frank Sinatra could've sandwiched me and I would've thanked them for the privilege

Dorothy Dandridge (Carmen Jones, Porgy and Bess, Island in the Sun)— The first Black actress to ever be nominated for best actress, Dorothy Dandridge was a groundbreaking actress who deserved better. She started her career as a singer, being put in a song-and-dance duo with her sister by their stage mother, and singing in soundies (I highly recommend cow cow boogie, it's adorable), proto-music videos. She started appearing as a featured singer in films. Her star was on the rise and she soon became a star solo performer. She continued acting, but had limited options because she refused to do stereotypical roles. She finally landed a starring role in Bright Road in 1953, but it was the movie Carmen Jones that truly cemented her as a star and sex symbol. Not to sound cheesy, but she literally sizzles on screen. You can't help but understand how poor Harry Belafonte gets caught in her trap, just look at her. This is the role that got her that Oscar nom. She didn't win cause I mean #OscarsSoWhite, but she was a sensation and continued starring in films, despite troubles in her life (including a shitty director bf who fucked with her career and a traumatizing pregnancy/delivery). Outside of her filmwork, she was also an activist, fighting against racism. She left behind an amazing legacy, and continues to inspire many actresses to this day (including also very hot first (and only) black woman to win best actress, Halle Berry).

This is round 4 of the tournament. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage woman.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut.]

Ava Gardner:

Ava Gardner is one of my favorite actresses of all time. Although a lot of her roles in movies are about her being beautiful and nothing else, there are some films where her acting truly shines.

Gifset: https://www.tumblr.com/pelopides/721438308726603776/ava-gardner-as-pandora-reynolds-pandora-and-the

Gifset 2: https://www.tumblr.com/portraitoflestatonfire/731899355804598272/if-the-loustat-reunion-doesnt-look-like-this-then

HER FACE. LOOK AT IT. Also was a life long supporter of civil rights and a member of the NAACP, had lots of fun love affairs with other stars, bullfighters, married several times but was also happy in between to just have lovers and was unapologetically herself.

I literally gasp every time I see her.

Between 1942 and 1964, Ava Gardner was credited in no less 50 films, and is still considered by some to be the most beautiful actresses that ever graced the silver screen. Despite life-long insecurities regarding her talent as an actress, she weathered public scandal, industry hostility, and outright condemnation by the Catholic Church with fearless grace. She would later in life talk candidly about the reality and pain of living through two (studio approved!!) abortions during her short marriage to Frank Sinatra, and while the two of them could not make their relationship work, they remained in each other’s lives for nearly 30 years. She would forever describe herself as a small-town girl who just got lucky, but always felt like a beautiful outsider.

Really genuinely one of the most beautiful human beings I have ever seen. An autodidact. Had amazing chemistry with Gregory Peck to the point where I do think about watching On The Beach again sometimes because they're so good together even though that movie did destroy me. Was a great femme fatale in many movies.

Dorothy Dandridge propaganda:

Beautiful actress and hand-working and talented singer, she's especially notable for the number of firsts she accomplished such as the first African-American woman to receive a nomination for the Academy Award for Best Actress and the first African-American woman to appear on the cover of Life magazine.

Dorothy Dandridge was a classic Hollywood triple threat, singing, dancing, and acting with the best of them. She was the first African American nominated for an academy award for Best Actress for her role in Carmen Jones and she was just jaw-droppingly beautiful.

youtube

this og of black film needs no introduction (star on the hollywood walk of fame anyone?), voice of an angel, heavenly features, just an overall stunning lady :)

Look at her!!! She is so unbelievably charismatic in Carmen, it’s insane. Her chemistry with Harry Belafonte is off the charts, and every time she puts another outdoor [sic] on it’s like ‘oh god this is a whole new level of stunning’ 🥵. She was so so talented, when she’s on screen I genuinely dare you to tear your eyes away from her. Deserves to be known so much better but due to Hollywood racism and a tough personal life she didn’t make it as big as she should have done. She’s incredible.

First Black actress to be nominated for the Oscar for Best Actress! Was the first choice for the role of Cleopatra that went to Elizabeth Taylor (we were ROBBED).

#dorothy dandridge #ava gardner #hotvintagepoll #fuck that old woman #ladies 4 #Youtube

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romanceboys · 25 days ago

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(250527) shinee_atoz translation: < the results of 2025 shinee 52-con's dinner party lucky draw > *all shinee members pitched in 1,000,000 won each + supported by the ceo's 1,000,000 won + nonsense gifts prepared by each team ✅the concert team prepared 'shinee concert merchandise set' as gifts - shinee merch umbrella went to: bpm's youngest manager - shinee merch shirt to: sound engineer / band drummer ✅the contents team prepared 'a custom set of miscellaneous shinee-coloured items bought from the convenience store near the dinner party venue' as gifts - [won by] dancer taemin (to be confirmed) ✅hair team prepared a 'sudoku puzzle' as gift - [won by] griffin's youngest manager ✅the a&r team prepared mini shating star keyring (a.k.a official one) as gift - [won by] director lee seongsu ✅the dance team prepared '3 DIY coupons' as gifts *must show proof - a coupon for 1:1 dance class with dancer hwakyoung: a&r mori jibsa-nim - a coupon for 1:1 comedy class with dancer beagle: ceo jang cheolhyuk - a coupon for a four-cut photobooth picture with the dancers: bpm's head of management ✅the makeup team prepared ‘a cute sponge in a bottega veneta box inside a givenchy shopping bag' as gift - [won by] artist visual team member lee ** ✅ the stylist team prepared 'pollack as an elegant protection amulet' as gift - [won by] ceo tak youngjun ✅ the artist visual team prepared 'a tabletop/desk broom and beach ball, two things that are cute but i would never buy with my own money' - [won by] nutrition centre *said they're putting up the gifts on the karrot marketplace ✅ to 'lucky goldstar' who was sad [about losing], flaming charisma minho sent him money for an ipad after the event *order was completed with delivery set for today ✅ later, nakcheon won the new samsung galaxy smartphone and earbuds set prepared by griffin. happy ending! (the winner was originally namgung euisoo, but we skipped him because he wasn't in his seat at the time) >>> please check out the video on youtube📹 by kimoff

#shinee #onew #key #kim kibum #minho #p:minho #p:taemin #p:key #p:onew #taemin #250527 #ig:shineeatoz #poet|artist #e:poet|artist #translations #griffin #bpm #Instagram

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rtv-puzzlevision-studios · 2 months ago

Text

☆ THE RTV!PUZZLEVISION TOUR [Part 2]

Participants actions:

Becky

Marie

Loyboo

Astro

Nia

Nicknack

Harley

Grinnames

Asper

Vex

Lucas

Lari

Rayas

Lily

Creature

Sci

The Director

Bunnybot

The Scammer

KuromiPuzzles

Messy

Orion

Nira

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

While the voting continued, RTV was kind of just pacing around near Colores giving a smile here and there, asking how it’s going.

Typical host behavior.

Okay, maybe he was also shooting a few glares, especially in the direction of a certain head of the Delivery Department.

He was really considering not paying her that overtime because her grumpiness was starting to piss him off.

Something she managed quite often.

Tearing his eyes away from Nicknack, he now turned his attention towards that same brown-haired rough looking girl he talked with before.

Now she looked even worse, oh boy.

“Okay! I’m not sick, just sleep deprived!! The nightmare realm takes out on me a lot.”, she defended herself, even though RTV never even voiced his suspicion that she was sick. Apparently he had been a bit too obvious, whoops.

“I never MEANT to imply-”, he tried to say, but was immediately cut off again as the girl ranted on.

“All because my “friends” abused me and left me to die in a crumbling castle, which was my home. But the King - of the Nightmare Realm - is my friend and took me in. But… he doesn’t understand that keeping me up and having a panic attack every 5 minutes-”

“Miss.”, he interrupted her now, really trying to keep the exasperated tone out of his voice, as he folded his hands behind his back. “With respect but that sounds like something you should discuss with a professional.”

The TV head gave her a faked look of pity, before patting her shoulder once and moving past her.

“Preferably someone in the PSYCHOLOGY department…”, he muttered to himself, before quickly distancing himself from this particular participant before he was there to witness a live breakdown.

Perhaps incidents like this were why he should get some sort of therapist or psychologist on the team, but he really didn’t need people to think that his studio was a bad work environment. It was fine! Aside from a few hiccups here and there everyone was satisfied with the pay, the work-

Okay who was he kidding, alone the Film Department was a mess. Internally sighing, he put it on his very long to-do list.

Note to self: Hire mental health support.

His attention was briefly diverted to another person he had talked to before. The brown haired guy with the missing arm.

They were currently happily yapping about all the props and Puzzlevision elements before noticing RTV’s glance and slightly shrinking.

“Ahem…apologies, Mr.Puzzles.”

Was he that intimidating?

Flashing the participant a smile, he waved the apology aside.

“Why apologize? You came here to ADMIRE after all!”

He extended his arms.

“Please, feel free to look AROUND the studio while we are still here!”

In the next second, RTV’s smile slightly froze as he got a notification from Wr3n.

Taking his phone out of his coat, he spared it a quick glance.

Got one sneaking away.

Attached was a screenshot of a blonde figure sneaking towards a certain office door. Ah, that explained why Wr3n was notifying him and not security.

He raised his eyes, muttering an “Excuse me”, before moving towards the crowd straight towards the target which was just about to open the office door.

Mask’s office door.

“Now now, GOING somewhere?", he now spoke, placing a hand on the person’s shoulder watching with satisfaction how the deviant froze and then looked up to him.

“Sorry, thought I heard something, thought someone maybe wandered off and uh, well you know, figured I get them." they said, giving a shrug with a chuckle, before they looked off to the side, and avoided eye contact.

RTV was not buying it for a second, but right now he was way more interested in the person’s resemblance to Mask.

Another doppelganger no doubt, either from another universe or an insert without background. He was betting on the first.

Either way, they had no business being here.

His eyes narrowed a tad at the familiar feeling that cursed through his cold hand as he touched the participant’s shoulder.

Could it be…?

“Oh but of COURSE, can't have that, can we? However I assure you everyone is accounted for, perhaps NEXT time, let security do their job, no need to wander off, hmmm?" RTV now snapped out of his observations, before his hands clasped together.

For now he needed that one away from this office.

Luckily, they seemed to play along, giving the TV head a nod.

"Very good! Now, why don't you join the OTHERS and cast your vote, we'll be leaving for the next department shortly!”, he announced before placing his hand on their back instead now and pushing them along, back to the crowd.

As soon as he had led them back there, his smile dropped and he gestured for Chris to keep an eye on that one.

What was their name even again…? He typed the question to Wr3n.

Astro.

Astrovision AU.

Ah, that explained a lot.

“Ah, Sorry-”

Stuffing his phone back into his coat, he turned to look down at the horned girl who had bumped into him a second ago.

His dry stare slightly softened as he saw the Puzzles Plushie in her hands.

A fan apparently.

If a clumsy one.

“No worries, go along, but do take CARE of your surroundings, yes?”, he spoke in a forgiving voice, gesturing for her to go along, before shaking his head and moving back to his previous position.

One that was approached by an individual with swirly eyes, black and red horns and weirdly floating ribbons around her waist a few seconds later.

He recognized this one as “Grinnames”, as she was one of the people whose submissions he had read through and saw sometimes when on the site for business with his ask box.

Well, at least the visitors seemed to warm up to them enough to ask questions now.

And he didn’t have to wait long for Grinname’s.

Raising her arm, she voiced her question in the next question.

“Colores! Mr. Puzzles! I have a question! Two questions actually. First, why aren’t Bob and Saiko on the crew anymore?”

Ah.

Well, he should have seen that one coming.

“Also…”, Grinnames now continued more sheepishly, tapping her fingers together. “Could I… possibly… if it’s no trouble… have the box of fan mail from Valentine’s day?”

RTV’s eyebrows rose in the air.

Luckily, Colores managed to ask the question that was running through his own head, but nicer.

“And… why would you want the fan mail? They’re not… addressed to you, you know.”, she asked Grinnames, confusion clear in her voice.

“Well, to be completely honest with you, I was planning to read all of them. And then eat them.”

“…”

The silence was deafening as even more questions filled RTV’s head.

“So can I have them?”, Grinnames repeated.

Feeling Colores’ helpless stare on him, he now sighed, crossing his arms as he looked down at the menace.

“I highly advise you against eating these letters, as they probably taste like tears, CHEESY romance and PARASOCIAL relationships.”, he spoke dryly, before smirking. “So that’s a no, I’m afraid.”

Next to him he heard Colores hide her chuckle behind a cough.

“As for your first question, well, Saiko and Bob have been…let go a while ago due to some HEAVY tension in the crew.”, RTV explained with a saddened tone, one hand absentmindedly tapping on the long scar that was hidden behind his sleeve.

Why did that guy even have blades for hands?

“So, I fear they won’t be appearing on the shows anytime soon.”, he continued, shrugging with a shake of his head. “Rest assured though they are just FINE.”

Physically.

“Oh yeah, I also heard someone ask about Luigi.”, Colores now added, folding her hands. “He’s fine as well, but he resigned from the crew even before I was hired because of what happened to his brother.”

“And there you have it. Now, if you would excuse me…”, RTV spoke, his solemn expression immediately turning back to a bright smile as he now turned to the next asker.

This was going to take a while.

☆

“ALRIGHT, THE VOTES ARE IN! WE ARE GOING TO THE FILM DEPARTMENT!”

Lucian who had been leaning against a wall next to the door after his talk with Sci, now watched how the people slowly started to leave the studio and started gathering in the hallway.

Chris and Swag already followed the crowd which meant that he was staying in the studio until the last people had left.

He briefly looked up, watching as his sister talked to that one anxious participant with the fox ears, visibly assuring them.

“Lucian.”

The object head tensed as RTV suddenly stood next to him.

For someone this tall, the TV head had the uncanny skill to sneak up on people.

“What’s up…boss?”, he forced himself to a casual attitude even though he felt like throwing his fist right into that man’s screen.

RTV gave him a narrowed glance for a second, the condescension visible in his eyes for a few seconds, before he lowered his voice.

“What’s the status on Animsay?”

Ah, so this what it was about.

“Worried she has more things planned that you didn’t know about?”,Lucian couldn’t help but mock, clearly referring back to the fanmail talk.

A scowl slowly faded into RTV’s expression.

“You already managed to ruin your relationship with your sister all on your own.”, he slowly drawled, slightly leaning down to Lucian. “Do you think I can make it worse?”

Everytime he brought Colores into this Lucian felt like taking his gun and ending this story once and for all, but he lost once before.

He was surrounded by people who obeyed RTV, followed him.

His sister included.

If she killed him, she would be one of the first to call security on him, probably hate him forever too because you didn’t just break out of brainwash like that.

RTV had a solid grip on his sister’s mentality and he wasn’t afraid to remind Lucian of it.

“Wr3n set her loose shortly before the tour began.”, Lucian now answered, forcing the hostility out of his voice. “If she’s not here, she’s probably roaming around. You know she’s not exactly caring about set timelines.”

“She better be about THIS one.”, RTV muttered, now walking past Lucian towards the crowd, screen displaying a happy face again though his muttered sentence did not match. “Or her vacation is going to be permanent.”

Lucian lowly snorted at that.

As if.

Without Animsay this whole tour would not even have been set up.

RTV needed her if he wanted to manage that whole 4th wall business even if he was too proud to admit it.

The sound of rustling paper made him glance up the ceiling where he saw Colores now picking something up from some of the cubicles.

Some kind of paper.

He quickly looked away when she looked over to him, not wanting to spark another argument because of his “overprotective brother behavior”.

Tsk, if she knew.

“Do me a favor?”

“Huh?”

Lucian looked up as his sister floated over to him, handing him the paper.

“So now we are talking again?”, he asked, but took it, giving the paper which turned out to be a drawing a puzzled look.

It included several versions of Puzzles with RTV in the middle.

Absolutely something that belonged to the tour participants.

“If you could stop for once to stop behaving like I can’t do my job-”, Colores started.

“It’s not about your job, it’s about the boss-”

“-that gave YOU a job after you wrecked your whole life and that of a bunch of others.”, Colores hissed, before shaking her head. “No, I’m not going into this again with you today. Take the drawing, give it to the one with the striped uniform. See you later.”

With that she turned around, giving a desk with what appeared to be a star on it a side glance before shrugging and disappearing into the depths of the studio.

Lucian stood there for a second, hesitating before cursing and turning around to catch up to the group which RTV had meanwhile began leading to the next destination.

Finding the owner of the drawing wasn’t too difficult as her uniform stood out quite easily and she was at the back of the group.

Putting a hand on the robotic fox-like girl’s shoulder, Lucian turned her attention towards him.

“Keep going.”, he told her reassuringly, noticing her startled expression before handing her the drawing. “Don’t lose it, alright?”

Taking it, she muttered what appeared to be a thanks before turning around and moving on.

Lucian did notice how the tension he had previously noticed on her seemed to slightly leave.

Well, his sister always had been better at making people happy.

Sighing, he crossed his arms, as he proceeded to walk at the end of the group, blending out RTV’s speech.

☆

“The Film Department makes the CORE of the Headquarters, after all Puzzlevison’s main thing is to create MOVIES and SHOWS for everyone!”, RTV meanwhile explained while leading the group back the way they came. Luckily for them, there was a second less cursed staircase in the hallway to the left that led back to the ground floor. “I could of course show you all the different studios we have, but I think you may be interested in a PARTICULAR part of said department.”

RTV now stepped to the side, gesturing for Swag to take the lead for a second.

He had to check up on something.

While Swag began leading the group onto the ground level over the staircase, RTV moved past it and a few meters back to the elevator they passed beforehand.

Pressing the button he called for the elevator, before slipping inside as soon as the doors opened.

If anyone were to step in as well, they would have seen RTV slightly sizing down to fit better into the lift.

It had been a premonition pretty much, a little hunch if you will and lo and behold, he was right to have taken this way.

A scowl placed itself on his screen as he glance at the floor buttons.

Below the two buttons that were accessible to everyone, were three other buttons that led to the basement levels.

Floors which were usually hidden behind a secret panel, one that a certain other TV head had carelessly left open.

He was seriously regretting his decision now.

It's always something like this.

Small things that could cause disaster, intentionally left around for her amusement.

To bring in some action as she would say.

RTV didn't want action in this tour, he just wanted a civilized little event, gather some data about these people and that was it.

With a loud sigh, he now put the panel back in place with a practiced motion, before pressing the button to the ground floor.

Really, one of these days he was going to-

Ping!

The doors of the elevator opened, revealing a much smaller TV head with a turquoise scarf and black and green clothing.

The black screen, which only displayed a few blue lines, temporarily showed a digital sweatdrop running down the face, before it revealed a curled smile.

“Oh, hey RTV-”

“YOU.”

In the next second, Animsay was lifted off the floor by the collar of her jacket and came face to face with a very angry RTV.

“I decided to let you back for the first time in MONTHS and this is how you repay me?”, he snarled at her.

“Weeeeeeelll”, Animsay drawled slowly. “If you look at it, I’m simply trying to fulfill our promise to the other audience by leaving narrative devices that could be used later to-”

“-to RUIN me?”, RTV ended the sentence for her, glowering.

“...well, it’s all a matter of chance…?”

“One. Just ONE more of these shenanigans and I swear I will-”

“Ahem.”

The fake cough made RTV halt in his threats as he turned his head to look at the rest of the tour group which had now arrived around the corner.

….great.

“- haaave a TALK with you.”, RTV now finished his sentence, before placing Animsay back on the floor.

Said TV head gave a thumbs up, before turning to walk away.

“Great! I will keep that in mind, See y-”

“Don’t even try.”

“On the other hand, staying with you sounds like a very good idea!”, Animsay announced, making a U-turn to join the group to which Swag let out a groan.

She wasn’t exactly beloved among employees.

“Hello, bonjour, assalamu alaikum, hallo!”, she now began shaking several random people’s hands, among them those of Asper’s, Nia’s and Vex who seemed to be zoned out by all the talking, before pointing at herself. “The name’s Animsay, some of you may know me from a certain site, wink wink, others maybe not. I’m the head of the Social Media Department but we will probably get to that later! Probably.”

She turned her head away from RTV, whispering behind her hand.

“Depending on your choices, yada yada. You read the rules.”

Running a glove down his face, RTV’s eyes closed for a second as he mumbled something under his breath before he turned back to the group.

“MOVING ON- if you would start following me again.”, he now raised his voice again, this time a clear strain to his cheery tone.

He began leading them down the hallway with several doors with name tags on the one side and windows that showed an open area outside on the other side. In the near distance one could spot a familiar purple themed castle.

Animsay had efficiently placed herself in the middle of the crowd just far enough away from any security guard who would rather have her standing not to them.

Whistling, she now slowly moved next to a certain trio consisting out of a Siren, a robot and an undercover TV head.

“Glad to finally meet you face to face! Hope you’re enjoying the tour so far.”, she innocently began small talk, before nodding to the side.

“Oh, by the way, the many doors we are passing? All offices, mainly of the Administration Department. Pretty neat, right? The offices of the heads, such as myself, each have their own office in the building block their department belongs to. Well, with exception for 3 he prefers to keep in the castle. Mine and Colores are in B!”, she happily began rambling.

The Director just quirked an eyebrow, confusion and scepticism in his gaze, while the Siren blinked in surprise but seemed intrigued.

Bunnybot on the other hand grinned, greeting the fellow, what he assumed was a robot, with a bright smile and a wave.

"I can't speak for everyone here," he shrugs, "but I'm having a great time!~"

He listens quietly as the newcomer begins to ramble about this and that, leaning in with interest whilst stealing a glance at "Micheal" out of the corner of his eye.

“Well, anyway I probably shouldn’t hang around too much or the boss gets weird, bye bye!”

With that she moved on to search for the next victim to yap to, in this case a former employee and friend.

“Hey Mi, wait for me!!”

“Ani??”, the black haired girl gave the TV head a hug, before lowering her voice. “Are you okay?”

“Yep! No need to worry!!”

“I’m sure you’ve GUESSED by now where we are heading.”, RTV now spoke again, now opening a set of doors that led to the inner courtyard. “The SMG4, now SMG3 castle has gotten a bit of a rework to fit more to it’s NEW crew.”

Setting the doors so they wouldn’t move he now took the lead again, walking past the grassy fields and a few planted trees and benches.

“This area is often used by employees during BREAKS by the way. It can be accessed from ALL building blocks. Building Block C contains the studios of the Film Department. If you WISH we could take a look at them later, but I think you may be much more interested in the crew’s residence.”

A few moments later, they arrived in front of the SMG3 castle’s gates which Chris and Swag opened for them.

Stepping inside, they were welcomed by the familiar yet recolored interior.

Checkered floor, two staircases leading up to a room above and several doors with pillars next to them leading to more side rooms.

However, instead of being blue shaded and decorated with SMG4 banners, the interior now was colored in several purple shades and Puzzlevision as well as SMG3 logos.

If one looked above they could also see that the ceiling had been turned into looking like a star filled sky.

“WELCOME TO THE SMG3 CASTLE!”, RTV announced, now moving in the middle of the room, next to the crew who had meanwhile been gathering while the group fully walked in.

Behind them, Lucian closed the doors in front of Animsay who had tried to slip back outside.

The “SMG3 gang” looked pretty similar to its original self if with less members and slight signs of overwork and aside from Tari missing Clench.

All were in uniform, now greeting the group with Meggy and Boopkins giving a bright smile and a wave, while Tari settled on a more sheepish and hesitant one, avoiding eye contact.

The head of the group, SMG3 meanwhile stepped next to RTV, looking awfully tiny next to the 12ft TV head.

Barely hidden dark shadows could be seen below his eyes and although it was clear that he had tried to look his best for today, there was still an aura of exhaustion surrounding him.

Clearing his throat, he now gave the group a two-fingered salute.

“Hey! I’m SMG3, but I’m pretty sure ya know that already.”

He now waved over to the rest of the crew.

“I’m the head of the Film Department and also the leader of the SMG3 gang.”

He then nodded to the other three.

“Me, Tari, Meggy and Boopkins welcome you to our crib- I mean base of operations!”

The meme guardian let out a small sigh of relief as Meggy now took over.

God, he was so tired.

“The film department is responsible for creating all the shows and movies that you know from Puzzlevision.”, Meggy now continued. “Of course, we don’t make alone at headquarters, some of our other locations also have their own studios, but all the movies and shows containing our cre- gang, specifically, are made here in the headquarters.”

SMG3 couldn’t help but rub over his eyes as he remembered the bunch of work he had to go through the next few days.

Maybe he should start asking for a vacation, but what would people think?

The Film Department was already known as the most dysfunctional part of the headquarters ever since he took over.

Constant bickering, overtime, deadline stress and then Saiko and Bob got fired.

Even now he hated himself for doing that, but he just couldn’t do it anymore.

Had he overreacted?

Sure, maybe, but he didn’t think it would end with them cutting contact with everyone.

He really thought they would come around eventually, understand why he pulled Puzzles into this and maybe they could have talked it out.

No such thing possible apparently and now-

…and now he was zoning out.

Blinking a few times, SMG3 forced himself back to the present, clearly feeling Tari’s concerned look on him.

“The Film Department consists of the whole castle and a few studios and offices over in Block C.”, he now heard Meggy move on. “Aside from acting, we are of course also responsible for editing, the whole technical aspects like cameras and sound and script writing though the latter is often taken over or proofread by Mr. Puzzles.”

RTV nodded at that.

“So yeah, if you have any questions, don’t be afraid to ask them! Other than that feel free to explore the castle! I know a lot of fans always want to see it, so go ahead.”

“You can go anywhere except for the room upstairs.”, SMG3 now butted in, stuffing hands into the pockets of his overalls. “It's, uh, not cleaned up.”

In reality he simply didn’t want people putting their nose into his and SMG4’s setup that he still didn’t put away.

It just felt…wrong.

“Yeah, aside from that you can access the kitchen where we have a few snacks and drinks standing, the storage where honestly ain't much except a bunch of equipment and whatever we stuffed in there, the gaming room if you want to play a few games with Tari, the guest room if you just want to relax for a second I guess and lastly the bathroom if, ya know.”, Meggy added on, before crossing her arms and giving a nod. “Thaaat’s pretty much it! Have fun exploring!”

“Oh-oh! Can I play some animes on the TV in the guest room, pleeeease?”, Boopkins now perked up, prompting the gang to all look over to RTV to make the decision.

Said TV head looked like he would rather not have that happening, but sighed.

“...sure. Whoever wants to watch an ANIME, though I doubt we even have the time-”

“-I will put on the mini-episodes-!”

“-they can follow Boopkins into the GUEST room.”

“Yippeee!”

SMG3 watched the small green fish waddle off in the direction of the Guest Room.

Despite all the exhaustion of the last days, he was still somehow the most enthusiastic of them all.

The meme guardian used to find that trait of his annoying, now he really wanted to desperately know his secret.

Unfortunately the price for it was a sleepover and an anime marathon.

Well, until he got over to doing that he would just have to stay through this.

Answer questions.

Play nice.

☆

After a while, RTV figured that it was time for another vote.

In the meantime he had pulled SMG3 away from the interacting crowd and next to himself for better observation.

The man was done, he could tell as much and it may have been the fault of the last movie deadlines that got way too close to each other.

Well, it stressed RTV too so he wasn’t the only one suffering.

What he was more worried about was the fact that SMG3 tended to overthink when in this state and when he overthought stuff it often came to him questioning everything about the event that started his whole career.

The Puzzlevision movie.

And that was something RTV would rather not deal with today.

“ALRIGHT, NEXT VOTE STARTS NOW!”, he announced, his loud voice making SMG3 flinch for a second, before he quickly tried to hide his reaction by rubbing over his neck.

The rough feeling of missing texture quickly made him lower his hand.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Tag list

@niranutcake @fenicearts420 @leirom71000 @entityarts @alelathedragon @mylifeisfakeenjoy @lari-the-dragon @lislelycan-i-am-dumb-lol @rat-n-atty @nia1sworld @untitled14360 @Irayasostripes @theclosetcreature @jovialoddity @purpdrawsthings @varian-the-alchemy-boi

All characters of mine are able to be interacted with as usual! If you questions about how they would react, never be afraid to shoot me a message!

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