𖥔 ݁ ˖KIRA

CR33D3AST /kri:d i:st/

Helloo^^ I’m Kira and welcome to my blog !!

— -She/her NOT A MINOR!!! wont share my age!!!! ENFP English is NOT my first language so I’m sorry if there are any mistakes! I’m open to criticism AS LONG as it’s not criticism disguised as hate!!

— - Groups/soloists i stan: P1harmony(ult!). Stray Kids. Aespa. XLOV. Cortis. BigBang. LE SSERAFIM. Park jihoon. 1verse.

— - biases: Yang Jeongin(ult!). Choi Taeyang(Theo). Winter. Kato Haru. Eom Sung-hyun(Seonghyeon). Dong Youngbae(Taeyang). Huh Yunjin. Yu Hyuk.

— - requests: open !! I am NOT comfortable with writing smut so please do not ask me for that

— - RULES:

Unfortunately I will write for stray kids only since I personally feel like they are the only group I can actually write good for(?) and I can easily kind of get into character for them(?) since most of the media I see is from them even tho p1h are my ult group…weird I know…this might change later on!!

I will not be writing any smut!!! suggestive? Yes! But not a full on scene!! A little spice? Yes but not a full on scene!

PLEASE keep in mind that I have my own life and cannot write anything in an hour. Sometimes I will loose motivation or won’t have any ideas but I will still try my best!!

— - masterlist

— - Taglist: OPEN!!! Fill out to join!!

For now this is it^^ Piece out!!——- — - - — -

© CR33D3AST

He accidentally heard her whining to her friend and now he’s searching up ‘how to learn French fast?’ In the middle of the night. Who would’ve thought it would end in a kiss?

wc: 2,2k Fluff, Jeongin wants that cookie baaad, misunderstanding

Inspired by “10 thing I hate about you” even tho I’ve never actually watched the movie…

— masterlist

He didn’t mean to hear it.

He was halfway out the door, already thinking about anything other than school, maybe he’ll hop on a game with Felix or go out with Seungmin again?then someone said “I think I’m going to fail French.”

He wouldn’t have paid attention.

Except…the voice was hers.

He slowed. Just slightly. Enough to catch the rest.

“I don’t get it,” she said, frustrated in a quiet way, like she’d been holding it in all day. “I’ve tried studying, I’ve tried listening in class, and it just…None of it sticks.”

“You could get a tutor?” her friend, Ningning suggested.

“I tried! Everyone who’s good at it is already helping someone else, or they charge way too much...” A pause then a sigh “It’s fine. I’ll figure it out.”

She didn’t sound like she believed that.

He left before he could hear anything else.

He told himself it didn’t matter.

—

The next day, he paid attention in French class for the first time all semester.

It was… the opposite of helpful.

“Repeat” the teacher said, pointing at a sentence on the board.

He didn’t.

Not because he didn’t want to. Just because he had absolutely no idea how.

The words blurred together, too many vowels, too many silent letters, too many rules that didn’t seem to follow any logic whatsoever.

He lasted about ten minutes before giving up.

By the end of the class, he had learned exactly one thing.

He was in way over his head.

—

It should have ended there.

It didn’t.

Because later that afternoon, he saw her again.

Sitting on the steps outside, notebook open, staring at a page like she was hoping it would rewrite itself if she looked at it long enough.

He hesitated

This was a bad idea.

A really bad idea.

“Hey” he said anyway.

She looked up. “Hey.”

He nodded toward the notebook. “French?”

She sighed. “Is it that obvious?”

“A little” he chuckled, his dimples coming out

“Great.” She closed it halfway, like that might make it less embarrassing. “I’m failing.”

He leaned against the railing, pretending this was casual “It’s not that bad.”

“It is when you don’t understand anything.”

He almost said ‘same’.

Instead, he said “What are you stuck on?”

She blinked at him “Everything?”

“Okay, but like..” he made a few gestures with his hands “Specify everything.”

That got a small smile out of her.

“Verbs” she said, flipping the notebook back open “and sentence structure. And…all of it, honestly.”

He looked down at the page.

He understood exactly none of it.

“Right” he said, like he did. “Yeah. That.”

She watched him for a second, like she was trying to figure something out.

“Do you…get this stuff?” she asked.

This was the moment where a smarter person would’ve said no.

He nodded.

“Yeah. It’s not that bad once you uh…break it down.”

There was a brief pause.

“Could you maybe…help me?” she asked hesitantly “Just until I catch up?”

And there it was.

The bad idea getting worse.

He should’ve said no.

He knew he should’ve said no.

“Sure” he heard himself say with the stupidest smile.

—

That night, he opened his laptop and typed: ‘how to learn French fast.’

By midnight, he had learned how to say hello, goodbye, and exactly one insult he was pretty sure he wasn’t supposed to use in class.

By one in the morning, he was questioning every decision that had led him here.

By two, he was still going.

Because the thing was

He could still hear the way she said it.

‘I think I’m going to fail.’

And now, somehow, that felt like his problem.

—

Their first ‘lesson’ was a disaster.

“Okay” he said, pointing at her notebook like he had any authority to do so. “Verbs. That’s…uh. That’s where we start.”

“Good” she said “because I don’t understand them at all.”

“Right. Yeah. That’s normal.”

He flipped a page, buying time.

He had studied for three hours.

Three.

Which was not nearly enough to be teaching someone else.

“Okay,” he said again, stalling. “So. In French…verbs change depending on… things.”

She frowned slightly. “Things?”

“People” he corrected quickly. “I,you,she,we…and other stuff.”

This was going terribly.

But she didn’t laugh.

Didn’t call him out.

She just nodded, like she trusted him to figure it out.

Which, somehow, made it worse.

So he kept learning.

Faster this time.

Harder.

Every day before their ‘lessons’ every night after.

Always just a little bit ahead of her.

Always one step away from being found out.

And every time she smiled and said “Oh! that actually makes sense” something in his chest tightened in a way that had nothing to do with stress.

He still didn’t understand French.

Not really.

But he was starting to understand why he hadn’t quit.

—

By the time it happened, he was exhausted.

Not the normal kind.

Not the “I didn’t sleep enough” kind.

This was the kind that came from constantly being almost caught.

“Okay see this is what I don’t get” she said, tapping her pen against his notebook. “Why is it ont here and not sont?”

He knew this one.

For once, he actually knew it.

“Because it’s the auxiliary verb,” he said, a little too quickly. “It’s part of the tense, not the main verb.”

She blinked “Wait really?”

“Yeah” he said, trying to sound like he hadn’t just learned that an hour ago.

Her face lit up in that quiet way it always did when something finally clicked. “Oh. That actually makes sense.”

Something in his chest twisted.

“Good” he said, looking away. “It should.”

They packed up a few minutes later, the usual routine.

Books closing, chairs scraping, that small pause where neither of them quite left immediately.

“Same time tomorrow?” she asked.

“Yeah” he said with his signature dimples “Same time.”

She smiled, and then she was gone.

—

He didn’t mean to stay behind.

He just…didn’t have the energy to move yet.

“Man, you look dead” his friend, Hyunjin said dropping into the chair across from him.

“I feel dead” he muttered, dragging a hand over his face.

“French still killing you?”

He let out a short, humorless laugh. “I hate it.”

“Then why are you even taking it?”

“I don’t know, okay?” he snapped, then exhaled, softer, “It’s just…”

He gestured vaguely at his notebook, like that explained anything.

“It’s exhausting. None of it makes sense half the time, the teacher hates me, and I spend hours trying to stay ahead just so I don’t completely screw it up.” He shook his head. “I swear, I hate every second of learning this stupid language.”

There was a pause.

Not from him.

Not from Hyunjin.

From somewhere behind him.

He didn’t notice.

“I don’t get why you don’t just quit” The Hwang said.

“Because I can’t” he said, quieter now. “I just…can’t.”

“…Why not?”

He hesitated.

And for a second, he almost said it.

Instead, he shook his head. “It doesn’t matter.”

It did.

Because she had come back.

She’d forgotten her pen.

She’d only been there for a few seconds.

But it was enough.

‘I hate every second of learning this stupid language.’

She didn’t stay long enough to hear anything else.

—

The next day, she didn’t show up.

—

He found her two days later.

Not in class. She’s been avoiding him there too, but outside, sitting in the same spot she always used to study.

Only this time, her notebook was closed.

“Hey” he said with an awkward smile.

She didn’t look up “Hey.”

That was already wrong.

“Did I-” he started, then stopped. “Did something happen?”

“No” she said quickly. Too quickly. “I’ve just been busy.”

“With avoiding me?” he asked.

That got her attention.

She looked up then, expression tight. “I’m not avoiding you.”

“Really? Because you haven’t shown up to a single session, and you won’t even look at me in class.”

“I don’t need the sessions anymore.”

He frowned “Since when?”

“Since I realized I was wasting your time.”

He blinked “What?”

She stood up then, like sitting still was making it worse. “I heard you” she said still not looking at him.

And there it was.

His stomach dropped “Heard what?”

“Your complaining” she said, her voice sharper now. “About how much you hate French. About how exhausting it is. About how you hate every second of it.”

He opened his mouth.

Closed it.

Because he had said that.

“I didn’t realize I was part of ‘every second’” she added, quieter, but it hit harder. Packing her things as her back was towards him. He could barely see her side profile.

“That’s not what I meant.”

“Then what did you mean?” she asked putting her books down with a slam before turning to face him.

He ran a hand through his hair, already frustrated with himself. “I meant the class. The teacher. The fact that I had to learn all of it from scratch in, like, a few weeks-”

She stilled “From scratch?”

He froze.

Right.

That part.

“You said you understood it” she said slowly.

“I do. Now. I just-”

“You lied.”

It wasn’t loud.

But it landed like it was.

“I didn’t-” he started, then stopped.

Because yeah.

He had.

“I was trying to help you” he said instead.

“By pretending you knew more than me?”

“I do know more than you now,” he said, then immediately regretted how that sounded. “That’s not- I didn’t mean it like that. I just-”

He exhaled, sharper this time. “I didn’t know anything at the beginning, okay? I heard you say you were going to fail, and I just…said yes before I thought about it.”

She stared at him.

“Why?” she asked.

And there it was.

The question he’d been avoiding since the start.

“Because it was you” he said, like that should be obvious.

It wasn’t.

Her expression didn’t change.

So he kept going.

“I hated it” he admitted. “I still do, most of the time. It’s confusing and frustrating and way harder than I thought it would be.”

He let out a quiet breath, then added, softer

“But I didn’t hate that part.”

She frowned slightly “What part?”

He looked at her then. Properly this time. Taking in her groomed furrowed brows. The crease on her forehead. The way her eyes shined even more from the sunlight. The curve of her nose. Her flushed cheeks. Her soft, pinkish, ajar lips.

“The part where it was you” he said.

“Sitting there, explaining things, or pretending I was explaining things. The part where you’d smile when something finally made sense.” A small, self conscious laugh. “The part where you said ‘same time tomorrow’ like you actually meant it.”

She didn’t say anything.

Didn’t move.

“I hated every second of learning it” he said, quieter now. “Except the parts that reminded me of you.”

The silence stretched.

“You’re an idiot” she said.

He huffed a short laugh “Yeah. I know.”

“You should’ve just told me...”

“I know.”

Another pause. Both of them stared at each other.

She licked her lips and stole a quick glance down at his. She knew she should’ve kept her eyes up but he seems to have noticed. She kept praying that he just zoned out. In reality he was doing the exact same thing. The second he saw her gaze fall further down his face, he felt his heart drop.

Should he?

No he shouldn’t…

But god did her licking her lips did something to him.

He could feel his mouth getting dry. This time he was the one to lick his lips. And she was the one who felt her heart drop.

They both looked into each others eyes at the same time.

Silence.

“Can I-“ “please” she said before he could even finish her sentence.

Before her answer fully processed in his head he closed the distance between them. Bridging the gap between them.

Their lips met. Intense and passionate but gentle at the same time. His lips crashed with her velvet-like ones. Her arms almost immediately clutched the front of his shirt as his gripped her hips. Both of them pulling each other closer than possible. The taste of her strawberry chapstick mixed with the scent of her vanilla perfume clouded his mind, while his tobacco smell, which she wasn’t really sure if it was coming from an expensive Tom Ford perfume or a cheap drug store one. Either way the smell made her feel undone and naked in front of him. The sheer power that his smell held was just enough to make her forget who she was. They pulled away, both breathless. The sudden silence of the room which was interrupted with a shared breathless laugh.

“You’re still a terrible teacher” she added, slightly out of breath, wrapping her arms around his neck

“That’s not fair” he said, his hands not moving from her hips “I worked hard to be slightly less terrible.”

That got a small, reluctant smile.

It faded quickly but not completely.

“So…what now?” he asked.

She looked at him for a long moment.

“Now you have to actually learn it properly.”

He blinked. “With you?”

She picked up her notebook, holding it out to him. “You’re the one who started this.”

A beat.

Then softer “Same time tomorrow?”

This time, when he smiled, it wasn’t forced.

“Yeah” he said. “Same time.”

He didn’t mean to hear it.

But he’s glad he did.

© CR33D3AST

A fan of both you and Minho decides it’s time to end the debate one and for all, trying to prove that you both are in fact dating.

ss: 15 Nothing really VERY MUCH INSPIRED BY MINSUG...ignore the battery and the time on the ss!

Idea from @bubble-gumm-drop !!

Masterlist Part I. Part II. Part III. Part IV. Bonus

I enjoyed doing these so much I might do more stuff like this in the future ngl🤓

© CR33D3AST

As the biggest award show of the year approaches, the tension between you and Minho reaches its peak. With emotions running high, cameras everywhere, and months of rivalry, chemistry, and confusion behind you, both of you are forced to face feelings that can no longer be ignored. What started as a competition has become something far more complicated.

wc: 2,8k Kisses😛 tension otherwise there’s nothing much

Idea from @bubble-gumm-drop !!

Masterlist Part I. Part II. Part III. Part IV. Bonus

The award show felt much louder from the audience than it ever had during filming.

Bright lights from the lights and big screens that zoomed into the award winners and other idols and performers waiting nervously for the next category.

Your hands rested in your lap.

At least they were supposed to.

Instead, your fingers kept fidgeting with the edge of your dress.

Sakura looked around with the other members smiling happily, seeming not even slightly anxious. While she and the other laughed about a joke Eunchae said, her eyes moved to you for a moment before staying there.

She noticed the clenched fists, the stiff shoulders, the unfocused eyes.

Her hand reached to lay on top of yours.

Your gaze immediately snapped onto her. She gave you a smile “Even if we don’t win, we tried our best”

You stared at her for a moment before smiling back at her. Even tho you acknowledged the words, they flew past your head. Of course the 6 of you tried your best.

That’s why you should win.

Across the aisle, several rows ahead, Minho sat beside the rest of his group.

Every now and then your eyes drifted toward him automatically.

Every single time he somehow noticed.

Which was annoying. And terrifying.

All the training, the practicing, the arguments. Through all of it, whatever existed between you and Lee Know had continued growing into something neither of you had actually put a label on yet.

Not publicly.

Not privately either, if you were being honest.

Neither of you seemed willing to be the first person to say it.

And now here you were.

At one of the biggest award shows of the year. Pretending your heartbeat had nothing to do with the man sitting fifteen feet away.

The category arrived far too quickly.

One moment you were smiling through conversations and pretending not to notice cameras.

The next, the giant screen behind the stage flashed:

BEST PERFORMANCE GROUP

Your stomach dropped instantly.

Around the room, applause echoed.

Your members immediately sat straighter.

Across the aisle, so did his.

Of course they did.

This was the award.

The one everyone talked about.

The one that had started everything.

Months of preparation.

Competition.

Pressure.

All leading here.

You swallowed hard.

The presenter stepped onto the stage.

Your pulse was already too fast.

Beside you, Chaewon reached for your hand under the table. A silent gesture. The other members, Yunjin, Kazuha, Eunchae and Sakura holding each other’s hands too.

Support.

Nerves.

Maybe both.

You squeezed back automatically.

The room slowly grew quieter.

On the massive screen, the nominees appeared one by one.

Clips.

Performances.

Crowd reactions.

Cheers.

Then your group’s name appeared.

The audience erupted.

Your heart nearly stopped.

A second later:

“Stray Kids”.

Even louder applause.

Your stomach twisted immediately.

Not because you wanted them to lose but because it suddenly felt real.

The rivalry.

The movie.

The arguments.

The rehearsals.

The way you’d spent months trying to prove yourself.

The way you’d spent even longer comparing yourself to him. Both on the movie and outside, the emotions of your character and your actual self mixing together so much you don’t even know if you’re actually mad at him or if it’s the script talking.

All of it came rushing back at once.

Across the room, Minho looked calm…Or at least he looked calm.

You knew him better now.

The slight tension in his shoulders gave him away immediately. He wanted this.

Maybe more than anyone.

The realization made your chest ache unexpectedly.

Because for the first time—

you wanted it for him too.

The presenter opened the envelope.

The entire room held its breath.

Nobody moved.

Nobody spoke.

Your pulse hammered loudly enough that you could barely hear anything else.

Then the presenter smiled.

A pause.

An unnecessarily long pause.

The audience laughed nervously.

You did not.

“And the winner is…”

Your heartbeat stopped.

The entire room held its breath.

“Stray Kids!”

The audience erupted.

For half a second you couldn’t move.

Couldn’t think.

Couldn’t breathe.

Across the aisle, his table erupted instantly.

The members beside Minho immediately jumped to their feet.

Cheers.

Applause.

Laughter.

Shock.

His members were already standing.

Lee Know wasn’t.

He just sat there staring at the stage.

Completely frozen.

Like he hadn’t processed it yet.

Then his eyes lifted.

Straight to yours.

And somehow the first thing you felt wasn’t disappointment. Wasn’t jealousy. Wasn’t the crushing competitiveness that would’ve consumed you months ago.

It was relief.

Relief because he looked happy.

Relief because after everything he’d gotten what he’d worked for.

You found yourself smiling before you even realized it.

Across the room, Lee Know saw it.

And for a second everything else disappeared.

The cameras.

The crowd.

The applause.

The award.

Just one look.

One silent understanding.

You weren’t rivals anymore.

And maybe that meant more than winning ever could.

Your smile widened.

His did too. Then his members practically dragged him toward the stage.

The acceptance speech was a blur of emotions.

Thank-yous.

Jokes.

Gratitude.

The audience loved every second.

But your attention stayed fixed on him.

Because for the first time since you’d met him…you weren’t comparing yourself.

You weren’t wondering if you were good enough.

You weren’t measuring your success against his. You were just happy. Happy that he looked so proud.

Happy that he looked so unbelievably happy. Somehow that realization hit harder than expected.

Because months ago that would’ve been impossible.

The applause faded as the group left the stage.

The ceremony continued.

More awards.

More performances.

More speeches.

But your mind kept drifting elsewhere.

Backstage.

To him.

—

The moment the show finally ended, the entire venue dissolved into controlled chaos.

Managers rushed everywhere.

Cameras followed winners.

Publicists called out instructions.

Security guided guests through crowded hallways.

You slipped away during the confusion.

Not entirely sure where you were going.

Only that your feet seemed to know.

Backstage corridors twisted beneath bright white lights.

Voices echoed from every direction.

Then. There he was.

Standing around near one of the side hallways as the members slowly walked deeper to the backstage.

Award still in hand.

His suit jacket draped over one shoulder.

For once he wasn’t surrounded by cameras. Or staff. Or his members.

Just him.

For a second neither of you moved.

The noise around you seemed to fade into the background.

Lee Know noticed you first.

A small smile appeared immediately.

The same smile that had somehow become your favorite without permission.

You walked toward him slowly.

Your pulse immediately betrayed you.

“Congratulations.”

Simple.Honest.

The words felt easier than they would’ve months ago.

Lee Know looked down at the trophy before looking back at you.

“Thanks.” Something about the way he said it made your chest tighten. Because suddenly neither of you seemed interested in talking about the award anymore.

You laughed softly.“You looked surprised.”

“I was surprised.”

“You almost forgot to stand up.”

“I did not.”

“You absolutely did.”

“I was being respectful.”

“You were panicking.”

His laugh escaped before he could stop it.

The sound immediately made something warm settle in your chest.

God.

You’d missed that.

For a moment it felt like the old days again.Before the tension.Before the confusion.Before both of you started pretending things weren’t changing.

Then Lee Knows’s expression softened slightly.

His eyes lingered on yours.

Longer than necessary.

“You seemed happier than I was.”

The comment caught you off guard.

“What?”

“When they announced the winner.”His voice was quieter now.

“You looked happier than I did.”

You stared at him.Then laughed softly.

“Maybe because I knew how much you wanted it.”

Something shifted across his face.

Small. But enough.

The hallway suddenly felt much quieter.

Much smaller.

Your heart sped up. Because now neither of you were talking about awards anymore.

Neither of you looked away. Neither of you moved. That felt far more dangerous.

Lee Know stepped closer first.

Only half a step. Barely noticeable.

Still enough to make your pulse stumble.

“You know…” he said quietly.

Your breath caught. “What?”

“I don’t think I’ve thanked you properly.”His gaze never left yours.

You frowned slightly.

“For what?”

A small smile appeared.

“For believing in me.”

Your chest tightened immediately.

Because months ago, during every argument and every rehearsal, you weren’t sure either of you had believed in yourselves.

Yet somehow you’d believed in each other.

Even when neither of you admitted it.

The realization settled between you.

Heavy.

Warm.

Terrifying.

“You don’t have to thank me for that.”Your voice came out softer than intended.

“Maybe I do.”

The distance between you suddenly felt nonexistent. Neither of you seemed interested in moving away. The hallway noise blurred completely.

The cameras.

The people.

Everything.

Gone.

For one impossible second it felt like the entire world had narrowed down to just him.

And the way he was looking at you.

Like he’d finally stopped fighting something. Like you’d finally stopped fighting it too.

A grin tugged at the corner of his mouth.“You know the internet already thinks we’re dating.”

You immediately groaned.

“Oh my god.”

“It’s true.” His smile appearing on his face.

“They think we’re dating because I handed you a water bottle.”

“You handed me the water bottle differently.”

“There are different ways to hand someone water?”

“Apparently.”

You laughed despite yourself.

Lee knows’s smile widened.

And suddenly being here with him felt easy again.

Not complicated. Not painful.

Just right.

For the first time in months, neither of you were rivals. Neither of you were pretending. And neither of you needed an award to prove anything anymore.

Your character was supposed to offer a handshake.

A symbol of respect.

A new beginning.

You held your hand out. Lee Know looked at it. Then at you.

Something shifted in his expression.

Something that definitely wasn’t in the script. The cameras kept rolling.

The crew stayed silent.

Your pulse sped up.

Slowly, he took your hand.

And instead of letting go immediately he pulled you closer. Close enough that your breath caught.

Close enough that the entire set seemed to disappear.

For a second nobody moved.

Then his hand lifted carefully to your cheek. Your heart nearly stopped.

The director didn’t call cut.

Nobody dared.

And when he kissed you this time…

it wasn’t fueled by frustration.

Or anger.Or confusion.

Just certainty.

Soft.

Gentle. Like both of you had finally stopped running.

The kiss lasted only a moment.

But when you pulled apart, neither of you stepped away immediately.

The silence that followed felt almost unreal.

“CUT!”

The set exploded.

Cheers.

Applause.

People yelling.

The director looked one second away from tears. “That” they announced dramatically “is officially a wrap!”

The cast immediately rushed forward.

Someone started crying.

Someone else was filming.

You barely noticed.

Because it was now Minho looking at you.

And for once neither of you looked away.

—

The interview area backstage was absolute chaos.

Cameras. Reporters.

Publicists trying to keep celebrities moving. Bright lights shining from every direction.

And somehow, despite all of it, your pulse hadn’t settled since the premiere started.

Maybe because every time you glanced across any room you were in, Minho was there.

And every time he caught you looking he smiled.

Which wasn’t helping at all.

“Alright, we’re live in thirty!”

A producer pointed toward a small interview setup. You straightened automatically.

The interviewer smiled brightly as both groups were guided toward the cameras.

“Congratulations, everyone!”

Applause echoed from nearby staff members. The camera light switched on.

Instantly, everyone snapped into professional mode.

Smiles.

Perfect posture.

Media training.

The works.

The interviewer beamed.

“First of all, congratulations on the movie! How are you feeling right now?”

The cast members immediately answered.

Excited. Grateful. The usual responses.

You relaxed slightly.

Easy.

Then the interviewer smiled.

Far too knowingly.

“And now for my favorite question.”

Oh no.

You immediately knew. Somehow.

Across the line, Minho visibly sighed.

The interviewer noticed. “Oh?”

The crowd behind the cameras laughed.

“Interesting reaction.”

Minho smiled politely.

“It’s nothing.”

“Liar” one of his members muttered.

The entire group burst into laughter.

Your stomach dropped. Absolutely traitors.

The interviewer practically lit up.

“Perfect. Then let’s talk about the movie.” Even worse.

“You two became one of the most talked-about on-screen pairings this year.”

Your smile became dangerously strained.

Beside you, Yunjin looked seconds away from causing problems.

The interviewer continued. “The chemistry between your characters was incredible.”

You nodded politely. “Thank you.”

Then came the real question.

“What was the secret?”

Silence. The members turned toward both of you. Waiting. Watching.

Enjoying this far too much.

You resisted the urge to leave.

Minho cleared his throat.

“Well you know we worked hard.”

Several people laughed immediately.

The interviewer blinked. “That’s it?”

“Yep.”

“Just hard work?”

“Correct.”

The interviewer looked unconvinced.

The camera crew looked unconvinced.

Your cast mates looked unconvinced.

Even you looked unconvinced.

The interviewer turned toward you.

“What do you think?”

You forced a smile. “Well I think the big part was that we trusted each other.”

The answer came out softer than intended.

The room reacted immediately.

A collective chorus of “Awwww.”

You wanted the floor to open beneath you.

Across the line, Minho looked suspiciously pleased with that answer.

Which was annoying.

The interviewer noticed. Of course they did.“Oh, that’s a look.”

Your head snapped toward them.

“What look?”

“The look you just gave each other.”

You nearly choked.

Minho laughed.Actually laughed.

Completely abandoning you.You stared at him in betrayal.His grin immediately widened. Unbelievable.

The interviewer pointed dramatically.

“There it is again!”

“There’s literally nothing happening.”

The response came too quickly. Far too quickly.

Everyone burst into laughter.Even the camera operators.

Han actually had to turn away because he was laughing so hard.

The interviewer looked delighted.

“You answered before I even asked anything.”

You closed your eyes. This was a nightmare. A very public nightmare.

Next to you, Chaewon looked one second away from walking off set from secondhand embarrassment.

The interviewer somehow wasn’t finished.“So no chance of a real-life romance?”

Your heart stopped. For one horrifying second. The room went silent.

Even the members froze.

Then Minho answered first.

“No comment.”

The crowd exploded.Absolutely exploded.

You whipped around so fast you almost gave yourself whiplash.

“What do you mean no comment?!”The words escaped before you could stop them.

The interviewer doubled over laughing.

The cast was losing their minds.

The camera crew weren’t any better.

Minho looked entirely too proud of himself. “I didn’t say anything.”

“You absolutely did.”

“I answered the question.”

“Wrong.”

The interviewer pointed between the two of you. “This. Right here. This is exactly why people ship you.”

Neither of you answered. Mostly because every possible response would somehow make things worse.

The camera zoomed in.

More screaming.More laughter.

You buried your face in your hands.

From somewhere beside you, Seungmin sighed dramatically. “They’re never beating the allegations.”

The entire room agreed.

The interview finally ended. The second the cameras cut, the room exploded into movement.

Managers.Stylists.Producers.

Everyone talking at once.

You barely heard any of it.

Minho was standing a few feet away, still answering a question from one of the staff members.

For a moment, neither of you moved.

Then his eyes found yours. And just like they always did lately, the rest of the room disappeared.

A year ago, you would’ve called this impossible.

You would’ve blamed it on competition.

On stress.On the movie.On anything except the truth.But the truth was standing right in front of you.

The rivalry.

The arguments.

The tension.

The kiss.

None of it had been part of the plan.

None of it had been in the script.

Yet somehow it had led here anyway.

Minho excused himself from the conversation and crossed the room.A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Thinking too hard again?”

You laughed softly.

“Maybe.”

“Don’t.”His fingers brushed yours briefly.

Small enough that nobody else noticed.

Warm enough that your heartbeat still stumbled.

For once, you didn’t pull away.

“Crazy how this all started because we were trying to beat each other” you said.

Minho huffed a laugh.“Yeah.”

He paused before saying quieter

“We really went off script.”

Your smile widened immediately.The words settled somewhere deep inside your chest.Because he was right.

The movie had ended.The cameras would eventually stop rolling.The story everyone expected was over.

But this?

This wasn’t written by directors.Or producers.Or screenwriters.

There were no marks to hit.

No lines to memorize.No script waiting on the next page.

Just the two of you.And for the first time, that didn’t scare you.

Minho squeezed your hand once.

“Come on.”

“Where?”

He shrugged.

“No idea.”

You laughed.Typical.

Together, you walked toward the exit as the noise of people faded behind you.

Toward something unknown.

Something unscripted.

And maybe that was the best part.

Because the most important thing that happened between you and Minho…

was the one thing nobody had written.

© CR33D3AST

Taglist: @soldantae

Somewhere between late-night rehearsals, brutal arguments, and a kiss that definitely wasn’t just acting anymore, everything starts falling apart off script and when the movie’s biggest performance finally arrives, neither of you can tell where the characters end and your real feelings begin.

wc: 4,3k Tension LOTS, a…kiss👀 THIS ONE IS LOOOONG the tumblr limit made me put the whole chapter in a weird way so it might be slight uncomfortable to read💔

Idea from @bubble-gumm-drop !!!

— Masterlist Part I. Part II. Part III. Part IV. Bonus

The atmosphere on set had changed.

At first, nobody really mentioned it.But people noticed.

The playful teasing between you and Minho happened less often now. Conversations became shorter. Rehearsals sharper.

Everything between you felt tighter somehow.

Like both of you were pulling a string too far without knowing when it would finally snap.

And the worst part?

The cameras loved it.

“Again from the top!”

The choreographer’s voice echoed through the rehearsal room as the music restarted for what felt like the hundredth time that day.

Your body moved automatically now.

Step.Turn.Reach.

Minho matched every movement perfectly across from you, expression focused as his hand slid to your waist during the turn.

Too naturally. Too comfortably. You hated how aware of it you’d become lately.

“Closer” the choreographer interrupted again.

You exhaled sharply through your nose.

“We are close.”

“No” they replied immediately. “Your characters are supposed to be fighting attraction right now. I need tension.”

A few backup dancers exchanged knowing looks nearby.

Heat crawled up your neck instantly.

Minho looked entirely too calm about it.

“Got it” he said easily.

You shot him a glare. That only made the corner of his mouth twitch slightly.

Traitor.

The music restarted. This time he stepped in closer immediately during the choreography, fingers settling firmly against your waist as he pulled you into the spin.

Your breath caught. Again.

And judging by the way his jaw tightened slightly…he noticed.

By the end of rehearsal, you were exhausted. Not physically. Emotionally.

“Nice work today” the choreographer said while checking something on the monitor. “The chemistry’s getting kind of insane now.”

Several people nodded in agreement.

You immediately reached for your water bottle to avoid eye contact with literally everyone in the room.

Minho leaned back against the mirrored wall beside you, annoyingly unaffected as always.

“You trying to outdo me or something?” he asked lightly.

The teasing should’ve felt familiar.

Instead, something about it irritated you immediately.

“Maybe keep up better and you won’t have to ask.”

Silence.

The words came out sharper than intended. Several staff members nearby suddenly became very interested in literally anything else.

Minho’s brows lifted slightly.Not angry. Just surprised.

Then slowly, he smiled. Small. Dangerous. “Careful” he said quietly. “You’re starting to sound competitive.”

Your pulse jumped unexpectedly.

“Maybe I am.” His gaze lingered a second too long before someone called him away for wardrobe.

And somehow the tension only got worse after that.

—

The inside of the trailer felt too small.

Too quiet.

You sat on the narrow couch near the window, script abandoned beside you while muffled sounds from the set echoed faintly outside.

You were supposed to be reviewing lines. Instead, you’d spent the last ten minutes rereading the same page without actually processing a single word.

A knock sounded against the door. Before you could answer, it opened.

Minho stepped inside and immediately, the air changed.

You looked away first. “Thought you had wardrobe.”

“I finished.” His voice was calm. Too calm. The door clicked shut behind him.

Silence settled almost instantly after that. Heavy. Uncomfortable.

You hated it. Usually being alone with him felt easy. Now it felt like standing too close to a fire and pretending you couldn’t feel the heat.

“You’ve been avoiding me.” The words left his mouth quietly. Not accusing. Almost confused. You scoffed softly, still staring down at your script. “That’s dramatic.”

“Is it?”

You finally looked up then. He was leaning against the opposite counter now, arms crossed loosely over his chest. Watching you carefully. Like he was trying to figure something out.

“You’ve barely looked at me all week” he continued. “Every time rehearsal ends, you disappear.”

You shut the script a little harder than necessary. “We’re working.”

“That’s not an answer.” Something sharp twisted in your chest immediately.Because the worst part was that he was right.

You had been avoiding him.

Not intentionally at first.

But after the rehearsals, after the choreography, after every lingering stare that suddenly meant too much…

being around him started feeling dangerous.

“You’re acting weird too” you shot back.

His brows furrowed slightly. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You know exactly what I mean.”

“No, actually, I don’t.”

You let out a frustrated laugh. “See? This. This thing you keep doing.”

“What thing?”

“Acting like nothing’s changed.”

His expression shifted slightly then. Smaller. Tighter.

“Maybe because nothing has.”

The answer came too quickly.Too rehearsed.And somehow that irritated you more than if he’d yelled.You stood abruptly from the couch.

“Right. Of course.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

You looked at him finally. Really looked at him. And suddenly all the frustration from the last few weeks came rushing up at once.“You keep pulling away every time things start feeling real.”The words slipped out before you could stop them.

Minho blinked once.

Caught off guard. “What?”

“You heard me.”

“No” he said quietly, pushing himself away from the counter now. “I wanna hear you actually say what you mean.”

Your heartbeat sped up painfully. Because that was the problem, wasn’t it? You didn’t fully know what you meant anymore. You just knew everything between you felt wrong lately.

Too tense. Too careful. Too loaded.

“You act like I’m making this all up” you said. “Like I imagined the way things have been between us.” His jaw tightened slightly. “I’m not saying that.”

“Then what are you saying?”

“That maybe you’re reading too much into things because suddenly everything feels like a competition to you.”

The words hit immediately.

Hard.

Your expression changed before you could hide it. And Minho noticed instantly. He regretted it just as fast.

But it was already too late.

You stared at him in disbelief. “Wow.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“Yes, it is.”

“No” he snapped suddenly, frustration finally bleeding through his voice. “I’m saying you’ve been pushing yourself so hard lately that it’s like you can’t separate work from anything else anymore.” The trailer felt suffocatingly silent after that.

You swallowed hard. Because there was truth in it. And you hated that he was the one saying it.

“You think that’s what this is?” you asked quietly. Minho ran a hand through his hair roughly.

“I think your mood depends way too much on whether you think you’re winning.”

That one hurt. Really hurt. Not because it was cruel. Because somewhere deep down, you were terrified it might be true. You laughed softly, but there was no humor in it. “Funny.” His expression faltered slightly. “You know what?” you continued, voice tightening. “Maybe I care because this actually matters to me.”

“You think it doesn’t matter to me too?”

“You don’t act like it!” The words echoed harshly through the small space.

Minho stared at you.Frustrated. Exhausted.

“Do you know how hard it is watching you do this to yourself?” he asked suddenly. Your breath caught. “What?”

“You keep acting like if you stop proving yourself for one second, everyone’s gonna realize you don’t belong here.”

Silence.The words slammed into your chest so hard it almost felt physical.

Your eyes dropped immediately.

Because that was the insecurity, wasn’t it? The one you never said out loud.

And somehow he saw right through it anyway.

When you looked back up at him, your expression had hardened completely.

“You don’t get to say things like that.”

“I’m trying to be honest with you.”

“No” you snapped. “You’re acting like you know me better than I know myself.”

“Maybe I do right now.”

That did it. Something hot and angry twisted sharply in your chest. “You know what your problem is?” you shot back. “You keep acting like you’re above all of this.” Minho’s brows furrowed immediately. “I never said that.”

“You don’t have to. Everyone already loves you. Everything comes naturally to you and you just—”

“That’s not true.”

“But it is!” you interrupted. “You walk onto set relaxed while I’m overthinking every single thing and somehow you still manage to make me feel like I’m falling behind.”

The second the words left your mouth, the trailer went silent again.

Because there it was. The real problem.

Not the movie. Not rehearsals.

Him.

And how much his opinion affected you.

Minho looked at you like he didn’t know what to say to that. Which somehow hurt even more.

“You think I don’t feel it too?”Your chest tightened painfully. The anger cracked slightly. Just enough. But neither of you knew what to do with that now.You looked away first. And Minho exhaled sharply through his nose, shaking his head once.“This is exactly what I mean” he muttered. “Every time things get difficult, you shut down.”

You stared at him in disbelief. “Are you serious right now?”

“What?”

“You don’t get to act like you’re the only one trying here.”

“I am trying!”

“Then why does it feel like I’m the only one affected by any of this?!”

The words exploded out louder than intended. Silence crashed into the trailer immediately afterward.

Minho’s expression changed instantly.

Not angry anymore. Just stunned. And that felt unbearable.You grabbed your script off the couch immediately.

“Forget it.” “Hey—”

“No, seriously, forget it.”

You pushed past him toward the door. But before you could open it.

“Why does my opinion matter this much to you?”

The question stopped you cold. Your hand froze against the handle. The trailer suddenly felt impossibly quiet.

You didn’t turn around. Couldn’t. Because you didn’t have an answer that wouldn’t ruin everything.

The silence itself answered for you anyway. And Minho knew it. You could hear it in the way his breathing shifted behind you. That somehow made everything worse. You yanked the door open hard enough for it to slam against the side of the trailer.Then you walked out before he could say another word. The door slammed shut behind you loud enough to turn heads across the set.

—

The next few days felt strange. You and Minho still talked. Technically. But it wasn’t the same.Too many loaded silences.Too many lingering stares.

Too many moments where neither of you seemed to know what to do with the other anymore.And because the universe apparently enjoyed making your life difficult the filming schedule kept pushing your characters closer together. More arguments. More emotional scenes. More physical proximity. It became impossible to tell where the tension was actually coming from anymore.

The director loved it.

“God, the tension between you two is insane lately” one of the staff members laughed quietly after a take.Neither of you responded.Because the tension wasn’t acting anymore.And that was the problem.Filming became strangely mechanical after the argument.Marks. Lines.Camera angles.Reset.

Repeat.

You stopped waiting for him between takes like you usually did. Stopped sitting beside him during makeup touch-ups.Stopped looking for him automatically whenever something funny happened on set. And Minho noticed every single thing.You could tell.

Even if neither of you acknowledged it.

“Scene 51, take 2!”

“Action!”

His hand grabbed your wrist as part of the scene. Usually he’d loosen his grip the second the cameras stopped rolling.Now he let go immediately.Too immediately.Like touching you burned.

“Cut!”

You stepped back first this time.

Minho looked away before the director could even finish giving notes.The distance between you felt deliberate now.Painfully deliberate.And somehow that hurt more than yelling ever could.

—

The staff definitely noticed.

How could they not? You and Minho used to be impossible together.

Constant bickering,inside jokes,

laughing between takes hard enough to ruin makeup.Now?Silence.

Not awkward enough for people to question directly.But enough for everyone to feel it.One of the makeup artists glanced between the two of you carefully one afternoon before muttering“…Did you guys fight or something?”

You answered at the exact same time.

“No.”“Yes.”

You glared at each other through the mirror.The makeup artist immediately decided they suddenly had somewhere else to be.

The worst part was how normal Minho acted around everyone else.Still polite.Still joking with staff.Still relaxed.

Meanwhile every time you looked at him, all you could hear was “Why does my opinion matter this much to you?”

You still didn’t have an answer.

At least not one you were willing to admit.Not to him.Definitely not to yourself.

—

Then came the scenes.

The emotional ones were the hardest.

Because suddenly every line carried double meanings now.Every stare lasted too long.Every argument scene felt dangerously close to becoming real again.

“Action!”

“You keep acting like you don’t care!” your character shouted.Minho stepped closer immediately, eyes locked onto yours.”And you keep acting like caring gives you the right to push everyone away!”Your breath caught slightly.

Because for half a second that didn’t feel scripted at all.

“Cut!”

Silence.

The director looked thrilled.You looked away first.Again.

—

The crew started reacting to your chemistry like it was entertainment.Whispers behind monitors.Knowing looks during rehearsals.Backup dancers going suspiciously quiet whenever the two of you stood too close.One afternoon during choreography practice, Minho’s hand settled against your waist for a transition.Completely normal.Part of the choreography.Still, your entire body tensed instantly.

And he felt it.

You knew he did from the way his grip faltered for half a second.The music kept playing.Neither of you acknowledged it. But after rehearsal ended, he left the room without saying a word.

You hated how much that bothered you.

—

Three days after the argument, you found yourself alone behind one of the stage sets, trying to breathe through the exhaustion settling into your chest.

You were tired.Of the tension.Of overthinking.Of pretending everything was fine.Voices echoed faintly somewhere nearby.Staff members.

“…I swear they act divorced lately.”A laugh followed. “Yeah, but whatever happened definitely made the acting better.” You should’ve walked away.

Instead you stayed frozen in place.

Because deep down they were right.

Something had changed.And no matter how hard you tried to ignore it every scene with Minho now felt like standing too close to the edge of something neither of you knew how to control anymore.

“Scene 42 in ten!”

You looked up from your script immediately.Right.The argument scene.

Your stomach twisted painfully.

He looked calm.Of course he did.

Meanwhile your own heartbeat habeen uneven all morning.

“Ready?”

You looked up as one of the assistants approached.You nodded automatically.

“Yeah.”

Lie.

—

The set had been transformed into the backstage area from the movie’s award show scene.Dim lighting.Neon signs.

Fake dressing rooms lining the walls.

Everything felt strangely intimate.Too enclosed.You stepped onto your mark while makeup artists fixed final touch-ups around both of you.

Minho still hadn’t really looked at you directly.That bothered you more than it should have.

“Alright everyone, quiet please!”

The room slowly settled.

“Scene 42, take 1!”

The clap echoed sharply.

“Action!”

The tension hit immediately.

You turned sharply toward him the second the scene started.“You think everything comes easy to you just because people already expect you to win” you snapped. “And you think wanting it more suddenly makes you better than everyone else?”

The line hit harder than it should have. Because lately, every argument between your characters felt dangerously close to reality.

You stepped closer. “At least I actually fight for it.”A humorless laugh left him.

“Right. Because nobody else here works hard except you.”Your jaw tightened.“That’s not what I said.”

“Then what are you saying?”The tension shifted immediately.Not scripted anymore.Something in his tone was too sharp.Too real.

“You think you’re the only person here working for something?” you snapped, stepping toward him.Minho laughed humorlessly on cue.“At least I’m not pretending this competition doesn’t consume my entire life.”The words landed strangely.Too naturally.

You crossed your arms tightly. “You don’t know anything about me.”

“Oh please” he scoffed. “Everything with you is about proving something.”

Something flickered in your chest immediately.Because lately that sounded less like acting and more like him.You stepped closer.“And what exactly is that supposed to mean?”

“It means you push yourself until nothing else matters.”There.That wasn’t in the script.You saw the realization hit him too late.Your expression hardened immediately.

“Cut—”

“Keep rolling” the director interrupted. Their voices muffled from your brain. You can only focus on Minho’s words.

The cameras stayed fixed on both of you. And suddenly neither of you were fully acting anymore.The director stayed silent behind the monitors.Watching.

You crossed your arms tightly. “Why are you acting like this?”“Acting?” he repeated quietly.There it was.That look.

The same one from rehearsals lately.

Frustrated.Tired.Something else underneath it.“You’ve been acting weird for days” you said quietly now, voice tighter than intended. “If something’s bothering you then say it.”Minho ran a frustrated hand through his hair.

“You wanna know what’s bothering me?”Your heartbeat sped up instantly.

“Yes” you shot back. “Tell me.”His eyes locked onto yours.“I’m tired of watching you act like destroying yourself is the only way to prove you deserve to be here.”

Silence.The words hit hard enough to physically hurt.Crew members shifted nervously somewhere behind the cameras.You stared at him.

Because some small part of you knew he meant it.You scoffed softly. “That’s rich coming from you.”

“At least I know when to stop.”

Your expression fell slightly and Minho noticed immediately.He regretted it the second it left his mouth…againYou could see it.But the both of you were too far in it now.Minho ran a hand through his hair roughly, frustration bleeding through his expression now, not his character’s.His.His jaw clenched.And then suddenly, Minho stepped closer now.Frustration was written all over his face now, mixed with something far more dangerous.

“You think I don’t notice it?” he asked quietly. “The way you keep pushing yourself every single day like if you stop for one second everyone’s gonna realize you don’t belong here?”Your throat tightened painfully.You knew he wasn’t talking about the movie anymore.Neither of you moved.

“That’s not fair.”

“No” he agreed instantly. “It’s not.”The honesty in that answer hit harder than yelling would’ve.You looked away first.

And somehow that made everything worse.

“Maybe you just hate that I’m finally catching up to you” you muttered.The second the words left your mouth, you regretted them.Minho’s expression shifted immediately.Hurt. Not angry.

That was somehow worse.

“You really think that’s what this is?”You opened your mouth.Closed it again.

Honestly?You didn’t know anymore.

The silence stretched painfully between you.Then his hand wrapped around your wrist.Your breath caught immediately.Too close.Your breath caught.

The next part of the scene was supposed to happen later.

A pause.More dialogue.Then the kiss.

But neither of you stopped.

His hand grabbed your wrist.Not rough.

Just desperate enough to make your pulse spike.“You don’t get it” he said quietly.Your eyes lifted to his.

“What am I supposed to get?”

“That I can’t keep pretending this doesn’t affect me anymore.”Your chest tightened.But nobody interrupted.

Because nobody wanted to ruin the scene.Or maybe because they couldn’t.

Your chest rose unevenly.“You don’t get to tell me how much this matters to me.”

“And you don’t get to pretend this is only about being validated anymore.”

Minho looked at you like he’d already lost the fight against himself.

That did it.Something snapped between you both at the exact same time.Frustration.Tension.Weeks of unresolved feelings.Maybe all of it.But suddenly

he was kissing you.

And it wasn’t soft.It was messy.Emotional.Too much feeling forced into one moment.Your hand grabbed the front of his shirt instinctively while his other hand settled against your waist, pulling you impossibly closer.You could feel everything in it.The anger.The confusion.The wanting.And somehow that made it worse.Because this wasn’t acting anymore.Not completely. The kiss deepened for half a second before reality came crashing back all at once.

“CUT!”

Nobody moved immediately.Your breathing was uneven.Minho’s forehead nearly brushed yours.And for one horrible second…you just stared at each other.Not characters.Not actors.Just you.Then suddenly you stepped back.

Too fast.The cold air hit your skin immediately where his hands had been moments ago.Noise rushed back into the set instantly.Crew members talking.

Someone praising the take.The director sounding almost thrilled.

But everything blurred together.

Because Minho still hadn’t looked away from you.And you suddenly realized something terrifying. You had no idea if either of you were still pretending anymore.Neither did he.That was obvious from the look on his face.

Confused.Breathless.Almost guilty.

Like he was trying to figure out which part of that kiss belonged to the script

and which part belonged to you.

“Okay,” the director finally said slowly. “That…”A pause.“…was perfect.”Neither of you answered.Because perfect wasn’t the word you would’ve used.Not when your heartbeat still hadn’t settled.

Not when Minho’s hand twitched slightly at his side like part of him still wanted to reach for you again.And especially not when the space between you suddenly felt more dangerous than ever before.The rivalry had gone completely off script now.

And neither of you knew how to fix it.

—

The backstage halls of the “award show“ buzzed with noise as the multiple cameras started rolling.’Managers’ rushing around with clipboards.‘Idols’ moving between waiting rooms.

‘Staff members’ calling out stage cues over the sound of music echoing through the venue.But somehow, despite all of it the silence between you and Minho still felt louder.Your ‘group’s’ waiting room was crowded with stylists fixing makeup and members pacing around nervously before the live broadcast.

Chaewon adjusted the sleeve of her stage outfit before glancing toward you from the mirror.“You’ve been staring at your phone for ten minutes.”You blinked once, locking the screen immediately. “No I haven’t.”“You literally have” Eunchae said from the couch.Kazuha looked up next. “…You two still not talking?”Your stomach tightened instantly at how…real this conversation felt, even if it was just the script.

You reached for your water bottle instead of answering.That was answer enough apparently.

Yunjin sighed dramatically. “This is painful to watch.”“Can we not do this right now?”“I’m just saying” she continued, completely ignoring you, “the tension between you two is getting ridiculous.”You scoffed softly. “There is no tension.”

All 5 of them looked at you.

Then at each other.Then back at you.

“Right…” Sakura muttered.A knock interrupted the room.“Joint stage performers to backstage please!”

Your pulse jumped immediately.

Right.The performance.You stood slowly, smoothing down your outfit while trying to ignore the nervous energy suddenly twisting in your chest.

Not because of the stage.Because of him.

—

Backstage near the stage entrance felt colder somehow. Two cameras following you and Minho, recording the whole backstage scene in one take.

Dark.Dimly lit.The bass from the ‘crowd’ outside vibrating faintly through the walls.You spotted Minho almost instantly, well spotted ‘Lee Know’ technically.He stood near one of the monitors while staff adjusted his in-ear mic, black stage outfit sharp under the low lights.Your eyes met accidentally.

And immediately both of you looked away.The memory of the argument still sat heavily between you.The kiss somehow made everything worse.

Because now neither of you knew what to do with each other anymore.

“Thirty seconds!”

Your heartbeat sped up.Minho stepped beside you near the stage entrance, the camera following, a moment later.Him standing close enough that your shoulders almost brushed.Still,he said nothing.You hated how much that bothered you.The silence stretched painfully.Then quietly

without looking at youhe spoke.

“Don’t overthink it.”

Your breath caught slightly.You turned toward him automatically.But his eyes stayed fixed on the stage curtains ahead.Like looking at you directly would make this harder somehow.

Before you could answer “Go!”

The lights exploded instantly.

The music hit hard enough to shake the floor beneath your feet as the two of you stepped onto the stage together.

The crowd screamed immediately.But the second the choreography started.

Everything narrowed down to him.

The performance began aggressively.

Sharp movements.Competitive energy.

Fast transitions designed to look almost confrontational.Your characters had spent the entire movie fighting each other.And the choreography reflected that perfectly.

You shoved past him during one formation.

He caught your wrist during the next.

Every movement felt like a challenge.

Like neither of you wanted to lose.The crowd lost their minds over it.But underneath all the sharp edges,

something else lingered now.Something softer.More dangerous.Halfway through the performance, the music shifted.

Slower.Heavier.The choreography changed with it.Less fighting.More tension.Your breathing had already become uneven from the intensity of the stage by the time Minho stepped directly in front of you during the center formation.Too close.His hand settled carefully against your waist as he spun you toward him.Your chest brushed his for half a second.The movement should’ve felt rehearsed by now.Instead your pulse stumbled instantly.

Because the way he looked at you had changed.No arrogance.No irritation.No competition.Just honesty.Raw enough to make your chest ache unexpectedly.

Your next movement brought your hand against his chest while he pulled you back toward him again.And suddenly…

the performance stopped feeling like rivals trying to destroy each other.It felt like two people trying desperately not to admit they understood each other perfectly.The realization hit hard enough to almost throw you off beat.

Minho noticed immediately.Of course he did.His grip against your waist tightened slightly.Grounding.The final chorus hit.Lights flashing wildly across the stage.The audience screaming loudly enough to shake the arena.

But all you could focus on was him.

The closeness.The tension.The emotion sitting painfully between you both now.

Every stare lasted too long.Every touch lingered slightly more than necessary.

And for the first time since the argument.It didn’t feel angry anymore.

The final pose arrived almost too quickly.You ended beside him, chest rising unevenly as the music faded out around you.The crowd erupted instantly.

But neither of you moved yet.

Your eyes locked.

And suddenly the silence between you felt different now too.Still intense.Still complicated.But no longer pulling apart.Minho stepped slightly closer while the lights dimmed around the stage.Not enough for anyone else to notice.Just enough for his voice to reach you quietly.

“…You stopped fighting me.”

Your breath caught immediately.Because somehow

you knew he wasn’t talking about the choreography, not about the cameras that were still rolling, nor about the mic’s picking up every single breath that leaves our lips and he was certainly not reciting the script.You swallowed slowly, heartbeat still racing from more than just the performance.

“So did you.”

Something shifted in his expression then.Small.Almost vulnerable.And suddenly, for the first time in a long while, being near him didn’t feel exhausting anymore.

It felt terrifying in an entirely different way.

“Cut!”

© CR33D3AST

TAGLIST: @soldantae

Rehearsals get more intense, the chemistry gets harder to ignore. The closer your characters get on screen, the more complicated things become off camera.

wc: 1,8k Lots of sexual and competitive tension, compering yourself to others,

Idea from @bubble-gumm-drop !!

— Masterlist Part I. Part II. Part III. Part IV. Bonus

“Scene 12! Flashback—everyone ready?”

The set feels different this time.

Quieter.

Smaller.

Less polished.

You adjust your mic pack as a stylist smooths down your outfit that’s simpler than before, less stage-glam, more rookie like.

“Positions!”

You step into place with your group members, the formation tighter, closer.

No distance.

No spotlight stealing.

Just a shared space.

Shared pressure.

“Camera rolling!”

“Sound speed!”

“Action!”

The music starts. It’s thinner, less refined than the present-day tracks.

You move automatically, muscle memory taking over.

Smile.

Eye contact.

Energy.

Even when the room doesn’t give it back.

The “crowd” in front of you is small. Half-interested. Some people watching, some whispering, one person scrolling on their phone.

You push harder anyway.

You have to.

Your character does.

The choreography ends cleanly.

You hold the final pose

And then the applause comes.

Polite.

Short.

Not the kind that lingers.

Not the kind that means anything.

You straighten, breath slightly uneven, forcing your expression to stay bright just a second longer than it should.

“Good job” one of your members, Yunjin, says a little breathless, a little hopeful.

You nod.

“Yeah… we did okay.”

But even to you, it sounds unsure.

You step off to the side of the stage, grabbing a towel, pretending to focus on anything but the feeling settling in your chest.

That quiet, familiar disappointment.

Then

Voices.

Not meant for you.

Close enough that you hear anyway.

“Did you see Stray Kids earlier?”

A low laugh follows.

“Yeah. That’s what a real stage looks like.”

Something in your chest tightens.

You don’t look up.

You don’t react.

You just dab at your face with the towel like you didn’t hear a thing.

“…They’ve got it all,” another voice adds. “Presence, energy… it’s just different.”

Different.

Right.

Your grip on the towel tightens slightly.

Your character inhales slowly, steadying herself.

Because she’s not supposed to react.

Not here.

Not like this.

“Next time” your group member, Sakura says beside you, softer now. “We’ll do better.”

You nod again.

This time more firmly.

“Yeah” you say. “We will.”

And this time

you mean it.

Because your character isn’t going to stay in that place.

She refuses to.

“Cut!”

The word lands, but it doesn’t fully pull you out right away.

The feeling lingers.

That tightness in your chest.

That quiet determination underneath it.

“…That was really good” the director says. “Let’s reset, but keep that internal shift. That’s important.”

Internal shift.

You exhale, rolling your shoulders back.

Right.

You step off your mark, reaching for your water and that’s when you notice him.

Across the set.

Leaning against the wall, script in hand.

Watching.

Not casually.

Not distracted.

Focused.

Like he’s seeing something he didn’t expect to.

Your eyes meet for a second.

Just a second.

You can’t quite read his expression.

But it’s not teasing.

Not light.

Something quieter.

He looks away first.

And somehow…

that sticks with you more than if he hadn’t.

You unscrew your water bottle, trying to ignore the strange tightness still sitting in your chest.

Around you, the set slowly comes back to life again. Staff moving equipment, makeup artists fixing touch-ups, someone adjusting lights for the next scene.

Normal.

Everything’s normal.

“You looked upset.”

Your head turns instinctively.

Minho stands beside you now, script tucked under his arm.

You blink once. “That’s because my character was upset.”

“Mm.”

That’s all he says at first.

Just that quiet little hum like he doesn’t fully believe you.

You take another sip of water. “You know it’s acting, right?”

A corner of his mouth lifts slightly.

“I know.”

The silence that follows isn’t uncomfortable exactly.

Just unfamiliar.

Usually with him, silence was easy. Filled with dumb comments, nudges, inside jokes.

Now it feels more careful.

Measured.

“You did good” he says finally.

The compliment catches you off guard and not because he’s never praised you before, but because of the way he says it.

No teasing.

No sarcasm.

Just honest.

Your fingers tighten slightly around the bottle.

“Thanks.”

He nods once, gaze drifting briefly toward the set where your members are laughing together near the monitors.

“That scene explains a lot.”

You glance at him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

His eyes shift back to yours.

“Your character” he says simply. “Why she wants the award so badly.”

Oh.

Right.

You let out a small breath, leaning back against the table behind you.

“She’s tired of being compared to everyone else” you say quietly, still half in character yourself. “Tired of always being almost enough.”

For a moment, he just watches you.

“That sounds exhausting.”

The words are soft.

Too soft.

Something about them makes your chest ache unexpectedly.

You force out a small laugh. “Good thing it’s fictional then.”

His gaze lingers for a second too long.

“Yeah” he says.

But he doesn’t sound convinced.

“Minho! We need you for wardrobe!”

The moment breaks instantly.

He looks away first this time, pushing himself off the table.

“Saved by the staff” you murmur.

That finally earns a real smile out of him.

“Don’t get emotional on me now,” he says lightly.

You scoff. “You wish.”

But as he walks off you notice something.

For the first time since filming started…

the rivalry between your characters doesn’t feel entirely fictional anymore.

Neither does whatever this is becoming.

—

The rehearsal room was colder than the rest of the set.

Bright overhead lights reflected against the mirrors lining the walls, the polished floor already marked with pieces of tape showing positions for the choreography.

You stood near the back, stretching your arms absentmindedly as staff moved around setting cameras into place.

This scene.

The joint stage collaboration.

The scene everyone had apparently been waiting for since filming started.

“Alright!” the choreographer clapped their hands once. “This number is supposed to be the first real shift between your characters. Still competitive, but there’s tension underneath it now.”

You tried very hard not to look at Minho at the word tension.

Failed immediately.

He was already looking at you.

Of course he was.

“You two need to look like you hate how well you work together” the choreographer continued.

A few staff members laughed quietly.

Minho looked entirely too amused by that sentence.

You rolled your eyes before turning away to hide the small smile threatening to appear.

“Let’s walk through it first.”

Music started playing softly through the speakers.

Slower than you expected.

Not soft exactly, but controlled. Sharp beats mixed with smoother movements.

You stepped into formation opposite him.

The mirrors made everything feel more intense somehow.

Like there was nowhere to hide.

“Five, six, seven, eight!”

You moved automatically.

Step.

Turn.

Pause.

Minho matched every movement perfectly across from you, expression focused now.

Serious.

The choreography itself wasn’t difficult.

The problem was the proximity.

One move had him stepping behind you, hand hovering near your waist before settling there briefly as you leaned back against him.

Another had your fingers brushing as you turned.

Another had your faces just inches apart before separating again.

It was acting.

Just acting.

So why did every touch suddenly feel so noticeable?

“Closer” the choreographer interrupted.

You blinked. “What?”

“Your characters are fighting the attraction at this point,” they explained. “You’re too careful around each other right now.”

A few people behind the monitors nodded in agreement.

You felt heat crawl up your neck immediately.

Minho, annoyingly, looked completely calm.

“Got it” he said easily.

Traitor.

“Again from the top!”

The music restarted.

This time Minho stepped closer immediately, one hand settling firmly against your waist during the turn.

Your breath caught slightly.

Not enough for anyone else to notice.

Atleast…you hope so.

You continued the choreography, trying to ignore how unfairly easy this seemed for him.

Then came the lift.

Well, not really a lift.

More like him pulling you toward him sharply before spinning you back out again.

You’d practiced it earlier.

It had gone fine earlier.

Now?

His hand slipped slightly against yours during the spin, throwing off your balance for half a second.

Instinctively, your hand grabbed the front of his shirt.

The movement stopped abruptly.

The music continued for another two seconds before the choreographer paused it.

Nobody moved.

Your hand was still curled against his chest.

His arm still around your waist.

Too close.

Way too close.

And for some reason neither of you stepped back immediately.

Your eyes lifted to his.

Something shifted.

Not dramatic.

Not obvious.

Just awareness.

Sharp and sudden.

You became painfully aware of everything at once:

his breathing coming out fast from between his slightly parted lips,

your grip on his shirt,

how warm his hand felt through the fabric at your waist, his deep brown,almost black eyes staring deep into yours.

The room suddenly felt too quiet.

“Okayyy.” One of the backup dancers dragged the word out teasingly from somewhere behind you.

The moment shattered instantly.

You stepped back so quickly you nearly stumbled.

“Sorry” you muttered automatically.

Minho blinked once like he’d just remembered where he was.

“Yeah. Me too.”

But he didn’t sound very sorry.

The choreographer clapped again, trying and failing to hide their grin.

“See? That. That’s exactly the chemistry we need.”

You looked away immediately, pretending to fix your sleeve.

Your heartbeat hadn’t settled yet.

And when the music started again…

you suddenly weren’t sure which part of the tension was scripted anymore.

—

“Again.”

The word leaves your mouth before you can stop it.

The choreographer looks up. “You already got it.”

“No” you say quickly, glancing toward the monitor. “The timing was off.”

Beside you, Minho raises an eyebrow slightly.

“It was fine.”

You cross your arms. “It could’ve been better.”

Something flickers across his face.

Not annoyance exactly.

Challenge.

“Alright then” he says, stepping back into position. “Again.”

The next run is sharper.

Harder.

The movements hit cleaner, faster, more precise.

You match each other step for step now.

Like neither of you wants to be the first one to slip.

By the third run-through, the room has gone quieter.

People are watching now.

Not because the choreography is difficult, but because of the energy between you.

Competitive.

Intense.

Addictive to watch.

“Cut” the choreographer finally says slowly.

“…That was kind of insane.”

You’re breathing harder now, chest rising unevenly as you glance toward Minho.

He looks exactly the same.

Annoyingly composed.

“You trying to outdo me or something?” he asks lightly.

The teasing tone should make the comment harmless.

Instead, it lands wrong.

You wipe at your forehead with your sleeve. “Maybe keep up better and you won’t have to ask.”

Several people nearby go silent instantly.

Oops.

Minho’s brows lift slightly.

Not offended.

Just surprised.

You immediately realize how sharp that sounded.

But instead of taking it back.

You hold his gaze.

Because part of you means it.

Then slowly,

he smiles.

Small.

Dangerous.

“Careful” he says quietly. “You’re starting to sound competitive.”

Your pulse jumps unexpectedly.

“Maybe I am.”

And for the first time since filming started…

the rivalry goes completely off script.

© CR33D3AST

You’re playing in your first movie with an experienced actor. Your characters hate each other, while in real life you’re best friends…until that line starts blurring.

wc: 1k Just a lot of tension between these two😛 they’re REALLY competitive

@bubble-gumm-drop posted this idea so you know I had to write this🙏 especially since Lee Know is my bias wrecker

— Masterlist Part I. Part II. Part III. Part IV. Bonus

The set was louder than you expected.

People rushing past, cameras being adjusted, someone calling out lighting cues, it all blurred together in a way that made your chest tighten.

Your first movie.

And somehow, out of everyone in the industry, you ended up cast alongside him.

“You look like you’re about to throw up.”

You turned your head, already knowing who it was.

There he stood. Lee Minho, completely relaxed, hands in his pockets, like this was just another Tuesday instead of the start of your entire career.

Both of you have known eachother for a long time now. Been inseparable even some would say but you both had gone sepparate ways.

Minho always knew what he wanted to do.

Ever since he was little he wanted to be on stage. He started off in the school theatre where he learned all the basics and got over the fear of messing up or just simply not being good at it. Then he switched to acting classes where they performed in the town’s theatre once in a while, always selling lots of tickets.

Now he’s here, five years and going strong.

And you?

You never really had a stable career path in your mind. Yes you’ve had dreams as a kid but with time and growth you lost interest in them. When highschool ended you took a gap year which… lasted a bit longer than a year.

You went to his movies in that time you were apart. After seeing the second one you started going down the Hollywood rabbit hole. You started watching more movies, went to see more plays, analyzing all characters, seeing their complex sides, seeing what a director or actor could’ve done different and what they did perfectly. You started practicing on your own, joining acting classes later on.

And now, here you are. Both of you together again.

“Oh wow, thank you. That’s exactly what I needed right now” you muttered.

He grinned, stepping closer.

“Relax. You’ve got me” he said, bumping his shoulder lightly against yours. “Five years in the industry, remember? I’m basically a professional at not messing up”

You huffed. “You’ve been in three movies.”

“Exactly. That’s basically legendary”

Despite yourself, you smiled.

And just like that, the nerves eased…a little.

The both of you are playing in a rivals to enemies film called “Off Script”

You’re both idols. Two ambitious people competing for the same goal.

The movie follows the two top idols you play from rival groups competing for the same “Artist of the Year” award.

He’s part of Stray Kids. A boy group with intense performances and a huge fanbase.

You’re a member of LE SSERAFIM. A confident rising girl group that’s already known and loved but constantly compared to others.

Two groups from two different companies makes the competition even more intense.

Media frames it as a rivalry. Fans fuel it.

Throw subtle shade.

Act like they can’t stand each other.

But behind the scenes?

They’re forced into a joint stage collaboration, just the two of them.

Intimate choreography. Close proximity.

And the entire industry is watching.

And apparently, the casting director thought it would be funny to put best friends in roles where you spend half the time arguing.

“Alright! Positions, please!” The director’s voice cut through the noise, and suddenly everything felt more real.

You straightened instinctively, fingers fidgeting with the sleeve of your outfit.

He noticed.

Of course he did.

“Hey” he said quietly, nudging your arm. “First scene’s easy”

You raised a brow. “Easy? We’re literally yelling at each other”

“Yeah, but we do that anyway.”

“…We do not.”

He gave you a look.

You gave him one right back.

…

“Okay, sometimes” you admitted.

“See? Natural talent.”

You rolled your eyes, but your shoulders relaxed just a little more.

A crew member waved you both over.

“Places!”

You stepped onto set, the lights suddenly warmer and brighter. The background chatter faded into something distant, like it didn’t quite belong to you anymore.

This was it.

Your mark was taped to the floor. You stood on it, trying not to overthink where to put your hands, your posture, your face.

Across from you, he was already in position.

And just like that… he changed.

It was subtle, but you saw it immediately. The easy going smile was gone, replaced with something sharper. Focused. Competitive.

His character, Lee Know.

For a second, it threw you off.

“Camera rolling!”

“Sound!”

“Scene 3, take 1!”

A clap.

“Action!”

You inhaled, stepping forward. Leaning into the character already.

“Try not to stare too hard.”

The line comes out smoother than you expect.

You turn your head toward him, letting just enough irritation show.

“I wasn’t staring.”

He steps closer, casual, like he has every right to be there.

“Sure.”

God, he’s good.

You fold your arms, tilting your head slightly. “Don’t you have somewhere else to be?”

“Probably” he says, and even you almost believe the nonchalance in it. “But this seemed more interesting.”

Theres a moment of silence filled to the brim with tension.

You step closer, just like you rehearsed.

But it doesn’t feel rehearsed.

“You always this confident” you say, voice lowering just slightly “or just when there’s an audience?”

Something flickers in his eyes.

Brief.

Gone almost instantly.

“Only when there’s competition.”

That wasn’t delivered the same way as before.

You notice.

You’re not sure why.

But you feel it.

Your next step brings you just inside the mark.

Close enough.

Closer than necessary.

“Good” you reply softly. “Wouldn’t want this to be easy for you.”

He leans in. Just a fraction.

“Wasn’t planning on it.”

For a second you forget the cameras are there.

“Cut!”

The word snaps everything back into place.

Noise floods in again. Movement. Voices.

You blink, stepping back automatically.

Your heart’s beating a little too fast for a first take.

“…That was great” the director calls. “Let’s go again, but keep that tension.”

Tension.

Right.

You glance at him.

He’s already looking at you.

Not as his character this time.

Just Minho.

There’s the hint of a smile but it’s smaller than usual. Quieter.

“Not bad for your first movie” he says lightly.

You roll your eyes, even as you exhale a small laugh.

“Don’t get used to it.”

But as you reset to your mark you can’t shake the feeling.

That something in that scene…

wasn’t entirely acting.

© CR33D3AST

The first time he sees her not as “the popular girl” and she realizes he’s not going to treat her like everyone else does.

wc: 1,2k Fluff, mention of familly issues

Shutout to my friend that helped and geeked out with me cuz of the ending

— masterlist

Who would’ve thought that the popular liked girl and the nerdish quiet boy would get along?

Well he certainly wouldn’t.

You were known the second you stepped in the halls of this school. Not only were you gorgeous and social but also rich. Which, let’s be honest, is what most people look at in high school. You quickly found a circle of friends and build a reputation for yourself. But you weren’t the typical Regina mean girl type.

You were the opposite, I mean yeah you gossiped once in a while, but you are always kind. Not just to your friends but to everybody. You believed everybody deserves respect. There wasn’t a time where you weren’t respectful to somebody.

He, in contrast, was a quiet, socially awkward high school senior who spends most of his time buried in books, coding projects, and obscure hobbies. He has long accepted that he exists on the sidelines of school life. He’s invisible to people, especially to her. The effortlessly popular girl who seems to glide through life surrounded by friends, attention, and expectations.

But one day…both of your worlds begin to collide in ways neither of you anticipated

The first time he sees her cry, being vulnerable, it isn’t dramatic.

No audience. No whispers. No shattered glass or raised voices.

Just the quiet hum of the old lights in an empty school hallway, long after most people have gone home.

He isn’t supposed to be there. He stayed late, like he always does, half to avoid people, half because the computer lab is the only place that makes sense to him. Numbers, code, systems. Predictable. Safe. And most importantly peace and quiet.

People aren’t.

That’s why he freezes when he hears it.

A sound that doesn’t belong in a place like this. Small, uneven, almost like someone trying to swallow it before it can exist.

He should leave. That would be the normal thing to do.

Instead, he takes one step closer. Then another.

And then he sees her.

Sitting on the floor, back against the lockers, knees pulled in like she’s trying to make herself smaller. Her phone lies down beside her. Her hair which is usually framing her face perfectly with the loose curls is falling loose, hiding a part of her face.

But not enough.

He recognizes her instantly.

Everyone does.

She’s the kind of person who exists at the center of everything, laughter, conversations, attention. The kind of person people have in mind without thinking. The kind of person who has never, not once, looked in his direction.

Until now. When she looks up. For a second, neither of them moves. Her eyes flicker with a hint of sadness but, oh God, do they look mesmerizing…

There’s a flash of something in her expression, not just embarrassment, but fear. Not of him, not exactly but of being seen like this.

He realizes, too late, that he’s made a mistake.

“Sorry,” he says quickly, already stepping back. “I didn’t— I wasn’t—”

“Wait.” The word slips out of her before she can stop it.

They both hear it.

They both know it changes something.

He hesitates.

She wipes at her face, but it doesn’t really help. “You—” Her voice cracks, and she looks away. “You’re not going to tell anyone, right?”

And there it is.

Not Are you okay?

Not Please help.

Just don’t let this exist outside of this moment.

He should say yes and leave.

That’s what anyone else would do.

But something about the way she’s looking at the floor like everything is already falling apart and this is just one more thing makes him stop.

“I wasn’t planning to,” he says. It’s an awkward answer. Honest, but not smooth. Not comforting.

She lets out a shaky breath anyway.

Silence stretches between them. It’s not comfortable, but it’s not unbearable either.

After a moment, he glances at the phone on the ground. The screen lights up briefly from a notification, just enough for him to see a name repeated over and over.

“Dad.”

Missed calls.

Messages.

He looks away immediately, but the damage is done. The context settles into place without him meaning it to.

“…You can stay,” she says suddenly.

He blinks. “What?”

She shrugs, still not looking at him. “Or whatever. It doesn’t matter.”

It clearly does.

He shifts his weight, unsure. “I’m not really good at… this.”

A weak, almost-laugh escapes her. “Yeah. I can tell.”

That should feel like an insult.

It doesn’t.

Carefully, like approaching something fragile, he sits down a few lockers away. Not too close, not too far.

For a while, neither of them speaks.

The hallway is still empty. The world outside keeps moving. Nothing about this moment looks important.

“You’re Han, right?” She asks through small sniffles.

He looks towards her so fast, faster than lighting, with the widest eyes you have ever seen.

“You know me..?” He hesitates, his eyes flying around between both of her eyes rapidly.

“Um…yeah? We have chemistry together, Tuesdays and Thursdays” he swears that he felt his heart stop.

She knows him. Not even him. She knows his name. She noticed him. She noticed when he says ‘present’ whenever the teacher calls his name, she noticed when he walks into class. She noticed.

“Yeah, Chemistry”

There’s another moment of silence, it’s filled with the sound of her sniffles and the sound of him shifting, trying to get comfortable on the cold floor. He leans on the locker behind him, his head falling back while he straightens out his legs.

She sniffs again, subtly looking towards him.

“I like your shoes” She says while looking straight at them. He stirs and looks at her before his gaze moves toward the shoes. The shoes… the dirty, worn out converse with the little star on the side. One of them untied.

His ears get red in embarrassment. “Thanks..I like your…” he says while pointing at his own eyes.

She stares at him for a second with a confused expression before it relaxes again. She chuckles “my eyeshadow?” He nods hesitantly, not exactly knowing what it is. “Is it not smudged by now..?” She asks. He looks at her, less nervous by now. It is smudged, she has those black under eyes that actresses from the films he watched always have after an emotional scene. But she doesn’t look any different, not better, not worse just like herself.

“You still look the same. Pretty” it doesn’t even occur to him what he just said, the feeling of embarrassment he feels 24/7 doesn’t even strike him for a second.

She stares at his side profile as she feels her face flush. Her eyes moving from his hair, his eyes, his nose, his jawline, to his lips. She sniffs again while turning back to the front, pretending like she wasn’t looking.

He turns towards his back taking out a bag of tissues he always carries but never uses. He opens it and pushes it towards her.

“Jisung, you can call me Jisung” she grabs the tissues from him while both of them look straight at each other.

She smiles. A real smile comes out for the first time since days. “Jisung” she says his name as if she has before. As if they knew each other for years and nothing changed.

But something has changed.

Because for the first time, she isn’t the girl everyone sees.

And he’s not invisible.

© CR33D3AST

This isn’t how it was supposed to go. Both of you were supposed to leave. All of you. And now you’re about to be publicly executed. Or are you?

wc: 1,8k Angst with happy ending, weapons, death of side characters, shooting, fighting, mentions of claustrophobia(?), dead bodies, blood

— masterlist Part I. Part II.

The land felt like a cage

Every path leading to another one that looked the same as the one you ran through a minute ago. Every street looked the same. Stone walls rose too high, too close, like they were trying to keep you in rather than anything else out.

“Keep moving!” The voice came from ahead this time low, rushed. One of the crew. Your mind not processing whose voice it was exactly. You followed without thinking, boots hitting the uneven ground as you were pulled through another narrow passage.

Left. Right. Down another alley.

You stopped keeping track.

Your lungs burned, but it barely registered. Everything felt distant, like you were watching yourself run instead of actually doing it.

Because part of you was still there.

At the window.

At the castle.

Watching from the outside, still covered in hay.

Your hand slipped slightly against the wall as you turned too sharply, catching yourself at the last second. The rough stone scraped your palm, grounding you just enough to make your chest tighten.

You remembered it too clearly.

The cold air rushing in.

The drop below.

And him…

Stopping.

Standing there.

Not following.

Just looking at you.

You swallowed hard, forcing your legs to keep moving.

No.

You couldn’t think about that now.

“Dock’s close,” someone muttered in front. “We just need to-“

A shout cut through the air.

Not yours.

Not the crew’s.

Guards.

Too close for your liking.

Your heart slammed against your ribs as everything snapped into focus at once. The fog in your head shattered, replaced by something sharp and immediate.

Footsteps echoed, more than before.

There were more.

“Faster!” someone urged, grabbing your arm and pulling you forward.

The alley opened suddenly.

And there it was.

The docks.

Ships swaying against the tide, ropes creaking, the open sea stretching wide and endless just beyond.

Freedom.

So close it hurt.

Your breath hitched as relief started overwhelming you, too fast, too strong

“We made it-”

“Stop!” The command rang out, loud and final.

Boots slammed against wood behind you.

Metal clinked.

You turned around and your stomach dropped.

They weren’t just behind you anymore.

They were already waiting.

Hands on the way to grab their guns and swords.

You felt another pull of your hand toward your ship. You were about to get on it. All of you. When you heard a loud sound.

A gun going off.

—

The ground was cold and rough as Seungmin was pushed into the cell which was already filled with others.

The guard, who was the one to push him, scoffed and murmured under his breath “another one” before closing the bars with a slam leaving not only the underground labyrinth but the echo of the metal and his footsteps.

Seungmin slowly sat up wincing from the pain of hitting the stone ground. He looked around just to be met with the eyes of strangers.

Not one.

Not two.

Several.

Just watching.

He stilled under the different gazes. The cell was filled with differently build people but they all carried the same thing.

Suspicion.

He didn’t have time for this.

—

The silence stretched longer than it should have.

Seungmin let his gaze settle, not challenging, just observing.

Counting. Measuring. The cell wasn’t as empty as it first seemed, the people weren’t just prisoners. But a crew.

He could tell, after all he’s a part of one himself.

“You’re new” a voice broke out. It came from somewhere to his left, low and with an edge.

Seungmin didn’t look away as he replied “Clearly.”

Another voice, sharper this time. “Then you should also know that new ones don’t last long here.”

A warning?

Or a threat?

Maybe both?

Seungmin exhaled quietly, leaning back just enough to ease the pressure in his side. His eyes flicked briefly toward the bars, then back to them “Depends” he said.

“On what?”

His gaze steadied “On whether they plan on staying.”

That got their attention.

A pause followed. Different this time. Not dismissive but interested.

Someone let out a quiet scoff. “And you don’t?”

Seungmin’s jaw tightened, just slightly.

A flicker of something crossed his mind…

The wind through an open window, your hand slipping from his, the look in your eyes when you realized something was wrong.

He didn’t have time for this.

“No” he said simply.

Silence again.

But the air changed.

“You got a plan?” the first voice asked, with less bite this time.

Seungmin glanced toward the far end of the cell, where the wall curved slightly, the older stone worn. His eyes moved back to the bars. The lock. The guard’s pattern. The way the torchlight outside dipped every so often, leaving shadows just a little too long.

He had been watching.

Since the moment he was thrown in.

“Not yet,” he admitted.

A few of them tensed at that but he didn’t stop.

“But I will.”

He pushed himself fully upright now, ignoring the protest in his ribs. His gaze moved across them again, slower this time. Intentional.

“I’m not staying here” he continued. “And I doubt you’d like me walking out of here alone.”

That earned him a sharper look from one of them. Something unreadable.

“Big words” someone muttered.

Seungmin didn’t react. Instead, he tilted his head slightly toward the bars.

“You’ve been here longer than me,” he said. “Which means you’ve seen things I haven’t.”

The group stilled.

“Guard rotations. Weak points. Anything.”

The group looked around each other.

Thinking now.

Not just watching.

That was all he needed.

Another pause then a quiet voice from the corner

“They change every few hours. But the one with the keys-”

“is careless” someone else cut in.

Seungmin’s face now adored a slight smirk.

There it was.

A slow breath left him. Not relief, not yet. But something close.

“Then we don’t wait” he said.

The words settled between them.

Firm.

Certain.

“For what?” someone asked.

Seungmin’s eyes flicked once more to the bars…then back to them.

“For the moment he makes a mistake.”

And this time no one argued.

—

The noise of the crowd was suffocating.

It pressed in from all sides, voices blending into something shapeless, something cruel. You couldn’t pick out words anymore, only the weight of them.

Your hands were bound, your knees ached against the hard surface beneath you, but you barely felt it. Everything was distant, like your body had decided this wasn’t worth processing.

This wasn’t how it was supposed to end.

Your gaze drifted, unfocused at first—then sharper, landing on the sea in the distance.

So close.

So close to him jumping through that window.

So close to him landing in that stack of hay.

So close to him getting it all over him.

Over his clothes

Over his hair.

So close that you can imagine his whining about getting dirty.

So close yet so far away.

A bitter laugh almost rose in your throat.

Of course.

Of course you would get this far just to-

A sudden crash split through the air.

Not from the crowd.

But from behind.

Shouts followed.

Not the ones of admiring.

Real ones this time.Panicked.Confused.

Your head snapped to the side but the only thing you could see was your crew trying to do the exact same thing.

More noise. Metal clashing. Someone yelling orders, then another voice cutting over it, sharper, commanding…

Familiar.

Your heart stuttered.

No.

That couldn’t be.

Another explosion of movement. Guards rushing past, the crowd breaking apart as chaos spilled into the square. Smoke curled into the air, thick and blinding.

And through it, figures.

Not guards.

Pirates.

Your breath caught as they surged forward, fast and precise, like they knew exactly what they were doing. This wasn’t random. This was planned.

Your pulse pounded in your ears.

No.

Don’t.

Don’t hope.

Not again.

You felt your hair being grabbed and pulled, letting out a short scream from the pain. The guard pushing you took out a dagger, ready to slice open your throat. The second the dagger was about to get too close. A gun went off.

You flinched, shutting your eyes as you felt a liquid splatter all over the left side of your body and clothes. Hesitantly opening your eyes you see the same guard lying on the wooden floor.

Dead.

A figure moved ahead of the others, cutting through the chaos like it parted for him. You couldn’t see clearly. Not yet,but something in the way he moved…

Your chest tightened painfully.

The guards around you faltered.

Another one dropped.

Another turned.

Then…

He stepped into view.

Everything else disappeared.

It wasn’t the smoke, or the noise, or the chaos.

Just him.

Alive.

Here.

With you.

Your breath hitched, sharp and uneven as you felt something in your chest, relief colliding with something heavier, something that had been building since the moment he didn’t follow you through that window.

He reached you quickly, hands moving to the ropes binding your wrists.

“You’re okay,” he said like he needed to confirm it, like he didn’t quite believe it himself, as your eyes didn’t leave his face.

The ropes loosened.

Fell away.

You didn’t move.

Didn’t speak.

Just stared at him.

“You didn’t come.”

The words slipped out before you could stop them. Quiet but sharp enough to cut.

His hands stilled.

For a second, just a second, something flickered across his face. Guilt, maybe. Or something deeper.

“I couldn’t risk it,” he said, voice low and steady but not unaffected. “Not when they were already coming. If they saw the both of us-”

“You still left.”

There it was. Everything you hadn’t said. Everything you couldn’t say before.

Around you, the chaos still raged but it felt far away now. Distant. Like it didn’t belong to this moment.

His jaw tightened slightly.

“I came back.”

The words weren’t loud.

But they landed.

Heavy.

Real.

You searched his face, like you were trying to find the truth in it and maybe you did. Maybe it was in the way he was still too close, like he hadn’t quite let himself believe you were actually there.

Your hand moved before you could think.

Grabbing his sleeve.

Pulling him closer.

There was not even a brief second of hesitation. You closed the distance.

The kiss wasn’t gentle.

It wasn’t careful.

It was everything at once.

Relief, anger, disbelief, something desperate and overwhelming that had nowhere else to go.

For a moment, he froze.

The feeling of your slightly quivering lips, the taste of blood from the guard he shot the second he had the chance.

Then his hand came up, steady, grounding, like he was anchoring himself to something real.

To you.

When you pulled back, your breath was uneven, your thoughts still catching up to what just happened.

But he was still there.

Still looking at you like you hadn’t slipped through his fingers for good.

“…We need to go,” he said quietly.

Then even softer.

“Together this time.”

This is what it was supposed to be like.

© CR33D3AST

Pirates belong to the sea, not castle walls but in the chaos of a rescue gone wrong, a single moment changes everything

wc: 1,5k Angst, mention of major character death, weapon (swords,guns)

— Masterlist. Part I. Part II.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this

You’re pirates. You’re supposed to be at the sea fighting other pirates or whatever pirates do. Instead you’re stuck in a castle as you had to get your comrate out of the hands of the royal guards.

The whole crew was just minding their business when Jisung, one of the people under Captain Bang noticed an unfamiliar ship in the distance. Turns out the ship was THE royal ship. They started attacking out of nowhere. Somewhere in the middle of the fight they took a hold of Felix, another person from your ship, and sailed away back to the land. You couldn’t just leave him to possibly be killed by the hands of them. You just couldn’t. Now you’re stuck in a castle as you had to get your friend out of there.

You and Seungmin, the navigator of the ship, had to run into the first room you saw as the sound of the footsteps of guards got closer and louder. You ran into the room as Seungmin closed the door fast without making any sound. Just in case the enemy was a bit more behind.

“We have to get out of here” he said to you as he blocked the door with some kind of rope he grabbed from the ship before you made it on land.

“We can’t leave Felix here!” You said not too loudly to attract unwanted attention.

“He got out already, I saw Hyunjin grab him while we distracted the guards”

“Thank god…” you said as he finished tying the door. You looked around for some kind of exit, touching around walls, maybe you could find some secret catacombs that lead outside? God what are you even saying.

Unknowingly, you were the only one looking for a way out as his eyes couldn’t look away from you. While you were thinking of a way to escape he was thinking of a way to protect you from harm. He already had the scenario ready in his head…

The door bursts open. Both of you immediately look towards the sound. The enemy stands there, swords and guns already pointed towards the both of you. Seungmins mouth opens to negotiate, if that’s even possible but before he can even utter a word.

The gun goes off. “Aha!”

He flinches and looks towards you as you shouted.

“Found it!” You walk towards a window, grabbing the handle and yanking it open. Seungmin walks up to you. You look over the window looking for a safe way to jump out.

“There” he says while pointing down at the stack of hay.

“Should be enough to cushion the fall” you stare at the hay, trying to see if there’s anything sharp in the way but find nothing, luckily.

You turn around just to realize how close he is. Your noses are almost touching. His eyes are moving around from one eye to the other as he swallows his saliva nervously. Your breathing stops for a moment. He raises his hand to move the hair that fell onto your face behind your ear. Your gaze falls slowly from his eyes to his nose to his lips.

“Y/n…” he pauses “if one of us gets hurt-“

“Don’t. Don’t say that”

“But if-“

“I said don’t. Stressing over Felix was enough.”

There’s a tension in the air. Did you go too far? Did you raise your voice too much? You knew Seungmin is not a fan of arguing with you. Of course you do argue but that’s only playful.

“I-“ you open your mouth to apologize but before you can…he pulls you into a kiss.

You don’t reciprocate at first. But when you feel his warm hand gently holding the back of your head, desperately pulling you even closer, the tension in your shoulders evaporates. Your lips start dancing together in the perfect rhythm. His other hand moving to your hip as your hands grip the front of his shirt. Non of you want to pull away but you both know this is not the right time or place to let yourself go in that territory.

He pulls away and looks at you before saying “let’s go” his voice weirdly cold as his gaze remains warm.

You stare for a moment “right…” You can tell from the way you said it that you’re still warm with the feeling of his lips on yours but surprised by the sudden coldness off his tone. You stare for a moment longer before turning around and safely jumping out the window as he stands behind you making sure it goes smoothly. You land in the hay, multiple blades of hay getting all over your clothes and hair, after remembering where you are you look up towards Seungmin. He looks towards you before taking a deep breath and walking towards the window sill.

Suddenly there’s a crashing sound coming from somewhere close to the room he is in. Because you’re already out and on the ground you do not hear it, but he certainly does. You quickly look around before monitoring for him to come down.

He looks towards the door where he could hear the guards trying to get the door to open, he looked down at her but not in fear, it’s that look in his eyes, the one he gets when he’s looking at the map, calculating how much longer till another stop on land where the whole crew can sit down in a tavern and forget about their worries even if it’s for one night or the one where he looks into the sky and figures out if there’ll be a storm coming and how to swim by it or how long would the ship have to wait for it to pass by.

You continue looking at him from outside not knowing what’s going on in that room but getting that feeling in the bottom of your stomach.

“Seungmin…”your voice barely left your throat but he could still hear your voice, not in the same way everyone else could, but in his head, even from far away and in the worst possible scenario, he remembered your voice perfectly. How could he not? He’s known you longer than the rest, he was one of the first people chosen by Chris to be a part of his crew as the navigator. He remembers all the nights of you playfully arguing with Jeongin just to hear Changbins laugh which never failed to make the whole ship laugh or the days in which you sit with Lee Know and Felix looking out at the sea and sharing all of your memories and stories from before all three of you choose this lifestyle. After all, who wouldn’t remember the voice of the person they love?

But in this exact moment, the voices right outside the room were louder than the one of the person he loves. That’s when he knew exactly what he had to do.

Without another word he closed the window shut. Your eyes widened “Seungmin.” You said a bit louder, but he wasn’t able to hear it now, no matter how loud you shouted.

He looked through the glass at You, trying to take every single detail of your face, just in case he wouldn’t see it again.

The sound of the wooden door creaking louder and louder made him avert his gaze and walk away from the window. Not only to not let the guards know where you are or how you escaped but because he knew that if he didn’t look away, he would never forgive himself after seeing your panicked and confused expression.

You watched from outside through the window that suddenly felt like it was getting smaller and smaller, not even looking if any guards are around, right now your main focus was Seungmin, your friend, the navigator of your group, the one you’ve known since you can remember, the one you kissed being safe.

That little hope was crushed when you saw the guards coming into the room.

Your breathing stopped.

You stared.

The small window not letting you see what exactly is happening.

A tear falling down your cheek.

Then his name falling from your lips again, this time louder than ever before but for some reason you couldn’t hear it at all.

Then the sound of someone running.

Calling your name.

Grabbing your forearm.

Pulling you with them into a sprint.

Your legs barely moving but still running.

Running far away from the spot you and Seungmin were separated.

Running even tho you didn’t want to.

Your eyes not moving from the spot you saw him last.

Even tho the window was far lost from your view by now.

In your view now were guards.

That’s when you gained back your consciousness and came back to the real word.

The hand holding your forearm feeling tighter than before.

“Y/n please for fucks sake run faster!” You looked towards the voice just to realize.

The voice that belong to the person holding your arm was no others then Chris, your captain.

Your own captain, the one taking care of the ship, of the crew, was the one who came for you.

He didn’t order someone to come get you.

He came to get you himself.

Which would make you feel soft inside.

But how can you?

How can you when the one you love is gone.

— © CR33D3AST