#cruise people the ice is barely there | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

mssishipi · 7 days ago

Text

1: stuck with you - psh

PAIRING: korean sunghoon x non korean reader

SYNOPSIS: All you wanted was a relaxing vacation—a break from your soul-crushing job, some cocktails by the sea, and, if the universe was feeling generous, a tall, handsome man to sweep you off your feet. So, like any desperate (but classy) woman, you booked a cruise. But instead of a dreamy vacation romance, you got a shipwreck. Now, instead of sipping margaritas and flirting with rich men, you’re stranded on a deserted island with a random Korean guy who, by the way, does not speak a single word of English. Flirting? Impossible. Communication? A disaster. Survival? Highly questionable. Well, at least, he's tall and handsome.

genre: strangers to lovers, romance, crack, maybe angst.

chapter contains: sunghoon is a chaebol, reader is a salary woman, both of them have no survival instinct, language barrier, half of the chapter is them being chaotic, charades as a form of communication, reader is sex deprived, sunghoon is a soft shy baby but he's so down bad, mentions of arranged marriage warnings: long introduction, profanities, explicit content (smut) contains blowjob, pussy eating, unprotected sex (don't do that!) MDNI. WC: 19.6K. click here for pt.2

a/n: "italic quotation" - characters speaking in korean

the plot was inspired to the story i read on wp, title island trapped. i'll upload the pt 2 within this week, i will add and edit some parts. happy reading!

Ah, the good old days.

When your biggest problem in life was Tom catching Jerry, and the most stressful decision you had to make was whether to beg your parents for vanilla ice cream or chocolate. When crying was reserved exclusively for math homework, and your daily schedule was just playing, eating, and napping like a well-fed cat.

But now? Oh, now life has decided to slap you in the face with responsibilities.

Screw being an adult. You wake up, work 12 hours for a salary that barely covers your existence, and then proceed to pay rent, taxes, and bills as if you personally owe society for breathing. And groceries? Groceries feel like a scam at this point—how is it that you spend a fortune but still end up eating instant noodles? And let's not even talk about new clothes or makeup. Once upon a time, you could buy cute outfits just because. Now, you stare at a price tag for ten minutes, do complex mental calculations, and decide that your 5-year-old jeans still have some life left in them.

But the real kicker? You're so overworked you don't even have time for a love life. No dates. No romance. No action. And it hits you—dear God, you need to get laid.

You blink at your computer screen. The fluorescent office lights hum above you. The existential crisis settles in.

"I need to get laid," you mutter under your breath.

Your desk mate side-eyes you. You don't care. Office work is bullshit. You work ridiculous hours making rich people even richer, and yet somehow, you're still broke. No promotion. No bonuses. Just emails, spreadsheets, and the quiet realization that capitalism has scammed you.

You exhale. You need a break. A vacation, maybe? A beautiful, tropical getaway where you can sip margaritas and pretend your life is not a train wreck. But wait. Vacations cost money. A lot of money. On the other hand... getting laid? That's a significantly cheaper investment.

Your mind starts spinning. If you take a vacation, you'll relax, but your bank account will be in ruins. But if you choose the other option... well, technically, that could happen during vacation. Two birds, one stone.

You imagine it now—a handsome stranger at a beach bar, offering you a drink. He's tall, has a deep voice, and smells like expensive cologne. You exchange flirty banter, he leans in and whispers something sinful, his fingers graze your waist. The music pulses, your bodies move together, and just like that... BAM. Sex!

You giggle to yourself.

Decisions, decisions.

Enough of the soul-crushing 12-hour shifts. Enough of the never-ending bills. Enough of staring at your sad bank account, wondering where all your hard-earned money magically disappeared to. And most importantly—enough of being painfully single.

You needed to fix your life. Immediately.

So, in a moment of either pure genius or complete recklessness (you'll decide later), you booked a cruise. A full, glorious, luxurious cruise that sets sail in exactly 20 days.

This was it. The perfect opportunity to relax, refresh, and—most importantly—find a hot stranger and finally get laid.

Of course, securing that last part required some strategy. You couldn't just show up on the cruise and expect men to start throwing themselves at you. You needed to connect first. Build a connection. Make them fall in love with your personality before you let them fall in love with... other things.

Step one: file a vacation leave. You march into your boss's office, ready to fight for your well-deserved break. He barely looks up from his laptop.

"Hey, boss. I'd like to file for a vacation leave."

"When?"

"In 20 days."

"How long?"

You hesitate. Screw it. "Two weeks."

He sighs. "Fine."

You blink. That's it? No argument? No guilt-tripping? No sudden speech about "dedication to the company" or "teamwork"? This man did not care. You could've told him you were leaving to climb Mount Everest, and he probably would've just waved you away. Whatever. That's a future-you problem.

Step two: mentally prepare yourself for this adventure. Suddenly, everything feels better. You hum while doing your usual soul-draining office work, tapping your fingers happily on your keyboard. You even smile at Kai from accounting, who normally drives you insane with his unsolicited life advice.

"Someone's in a good mood," he says, sipping his overpriced iced coffee.

You nod. "I'm going on vacation."

"Nice! Where?"

"A cruise."

Kai wiggles his eyebrows. "Ooooh, a little romance on the sea, huh?"

You wink. "Maybe."

Step three: go shopping. This is where the real fun begins. Because if you were going to seduce a man on a fancy cruise, you needed the right outfits.

Dressed in your comfiest clothes, you head straight to the mall, swaying your hips as you walk. You don't even check your bank balance before swiping your card—your motto for the day is simple:

"Money always comes back." Does it? No one knows. But it sounds inspiring.

You grab bikinis, sundresses, high heels that you probably won't be able to walk in, and way too many accessories. Because who knows? Maybe you'll meet a rich man on this cruise. A sexy billionaire with a mysterious past and a yacht twice the size of the one you're boarding. Maybe he'll fall for you instantly, whisk you away to his private island, and you'll never have to work again. Unrealistic? Probably. But a girl can dream.

Step four: prepare for the glow-up. The next few days become a self-care montage. You book a hair appointment, get a facial, and even buy one of those expensive serums that promise to make your skin glow like the moon. You do squats, just in case your future cruise boyfriend is a butt guy. You even attempt a new makeup routine, though you end up poking yourself in the eye with an eyeliner pencil.

Step five: mentally rehearse your flirt game. Because let's be honest—it's been a while. You're so used to working, eating, and passing out from exhaustion that your social skills have atrophied.

You can't just walk up to a hot guy and blurt out, "Hi, I'm desperate for love, attention, and possibly a vacation-funded situationship."

No. You need smoothness. So, you practice in front of the mirror.

"Hey, sailor. First time on a cruise?" No, that sounds like a weird pirate joke.

"Wow, the ocean is interesting. But not as interesting as you." Ugh, cringe.

"Hey. I like your... aura." What does that even mean?!

You sigh. Maybe you should just go for the classic: "Hi, I'm YN ." And let the universe handle the rest. The countdown continues. The excitement builds. You are ready.

Ah, the moment had finally arrived. With a flowy maxi dress that swayed dramatically in the ocean breeze, perfectly curled hair, sunkissed cheeks that made you look like you just stepped out of a romance novel, and accessories that said, I'm expensive even though my bank account disagrees.

Your heels clicked against the polished cruise floor as you strutted through the entrance, suitcase rolling behind you like you were the main character in a summer blockbuster.

The cruise staff smiled politely.

"Welcome aboard, Miss!" a staff member chirped as they guided you to your room.

"Thank you," you said, smiling.

They showed you around your cabin, a cute little space that felt like luxury despite being, well... a glorified floating hotel room. But you didn't care. This was your kingdom for the next two weeks.

The moment the staff left, you sprang into action. Clothes were unpacked of a woman on a mission. Outfit planning was key - You slipped into a simple but elegant knee-length dress, paired it with a sun hat.

You traced your fingers along the railing, watching the ocean waves crash against the ship. The warm glow of the setting sun kissed your face, and for a moment, you just breathed.

This—this—was the life. The soft girl era you had been manifesting. But let's get real. You weren't just here for peace and relaxation.

Night fell, and you found yourself perched at the bar, drink in hand, eyes scanning the room like a hunter. You had one goal: Find The One

A man approached. He smiled, offered to buy you a drink. You took one look at him. Nope. Not your type.

He had... soft boy energy. The type to cry if you ghosted him after the cruise. You needed spice. Someone who looked like he owned a boat—not someone whose mother still packed his lunch. You sighed dramatically as he walked away.

Day one: unsuccessful.

The next morning, you decided to take a different approach. Maybe the universe was testing you, making you work for it. Fine. Challenge accepted. You booked yourself a massage therapy session on the cruise spa. If nothing else, at least your body would feel amazing while your soul continued its manhunt. The therapist's hands worked their magic, kneading out every ounce of stress from your overworked life. You almost moaned. (Almost.)

After that? Socialize. That was the game plan. If the men weren't coming to you, then maybe you needed to create a network. You strolled through the ship, engaging in small talk with other women, hoping one of them would say something like: "Oh, you have to meet my brother, he's a billionaire!"

Unfortunately, that didn't happen. Instead, you just ended up bonding with a group of fun girls who, shockingly, were also on the same mission: Find A Hot Man Before The Cruise Ends. You were not alone. But still... no man.

Day three. No. Man.

You were starting to think this cruise was rigged. Where were the hot, mysterious strangers who were supposed to sweep you off your feet? Where were the rich men, the ones who could afford to casually spend a month on a cruise without blinking at the price tag?

You sighed dramatically, staring out at the ocean once again. The sun was shining, the waves were beautiful, and yet—no one was whispering sweet nothings into your ear.

Day seven. Still nothing.

Sure, you were enjoying yourself—partying every night, walking around the cruise like you owned it, and having the time of your life with Julie and Yunjin. But let's face it, no amount of cocktails and dancing could distract you from the harsh reality: You were still single, dry, and desperate.

Tonight, you were absolutely slaying in a red bikini, playing volleyball by the pool with the girls, when a random woman approached you with an invitation to a private party. A private party. Exclusive. Rich people. A potential husband waiting for you.

The universe was finally giving you a chance. Or so you thought.

Fast forward to the party, and—huge disappointment. Yes, the men were crazy rich Asians.

But none of them were your type. Too soft. Too awkward. Talked too fast. And let's not forget—you had read way too many articles about their strict family traditions. You weren't about to end up in some dramatic arranged-marriage situation.

So, with a sigh, you stepped outside for some fresh air. The night was peaceful, the ocean stretched endlessly before you, and the only lights came from the cruise, glowing softly against the dark water. You leaned against the railing, deep in thought.

Spending all this money on yourself was worth it... right?

Right? Even if you didn't get laid?

Before you could sink deeper into self-pity, voices caught your attention.

"I told you, I don't want to get married!" Your ears perked up.

Slowly, you turned your head, catching sight of two Asian men standing a few feet away.

One of them was tall. Very tall. His skin was almost porcelain, his sharp jawline looked like it belonged in a Renaissance painting, and his deep-set eyes paired with those moles on his face. What a sight.

You swallowed hard and took a tiny step closer, pretending to admire the scenery (totally normal, totally casual).

"You don't have a choice. It's for business."

"I don't want to! Fuck!"

And that was when they both turned—and locked eyes with you. Your body? Froze. Your brain? Also froze.

You immediately turned your head away, hands clasped behind your back, pretending to be deeply invested in the night sky. It's not like you even understood what they were saying, right? Right?!

You were about to open your mouth, maybe throw in an awkward wave, when a loud crash echoed through the ship, making you jolt.

The two men snapped their heads toward the sound, and you followed their gaze, eyes widening as you saw a wave of panicked people sprinting in your direction.

"What's happening?!" one of the men exclaimed.

Yeah, great question. You also wanted to know. But guess what? You don't speak Korean.

Before you could even attempt to process what was going on, the ship's lights suddenly went out. Screams of people reached your ears.

"What the fuck?!" you shrieked as people shoved past you, some even falling off the cruise. Falling. Like this was Titanic but with zero romance and just pure disaster.

Someone slammed into you hard, and your knees hit the floor. Pain shot through your legs, and just when you were about to unleash the most ungodly curse words, a strong hand grabbed yours.

You looked up—Tall, Handsome, and Mysterious. His sharp features were now shadowed by panic, his grip soft as he yanked you to your feet.

You barely had time to react before he started dragging you away.

"Ya! Sunghoon! Where are you going?!" His companion shouted, but Tall, Handsome, and Mysterious—apparently named Sunghoon—didn't even glance back.

"Wait, what— Where are we going?!" you yelled, stumbling as he pulled you through the frantic crowd. Did he answer? Of course not.

Because one, he was too focused on running for his life. And two, well... he probably didn't understand you either.

Oh God. You were going to die. On a cruise. With a hot stranger. And you didn't even get laid first. Fucking unbelievable.

The two of you came to a screeching halt at the end of a very long line of panicked people. The ship's crew was lowering lifeboats.

"Please, children first!" a crew member yelled, which only made the passengers more hysterical. People were pushing, screaming, and fighting for spots.

You clutched the man’s hand tighter, your anxiety skyrocketing as the ship tilted slightly lower. You nudged him desperately.

"Okay, look—is there a way we can get on a boat faster?! You're rich, right?!"

He turned to you, brows furrowed in deep concentration, clearly trying his best to understand whatever nonsense was spilling from your mouth.

"...Yes?" he finally said.

A relieved breath left your chest. Thank God. Finally, some progress!

"Okay, great! Call your dad! Bribe someone! Do something!" You frantically made a phone-call gesture with your hand, looking at him like this was life or death—because, spoiler alert, IT WAS.

But Sunghoon just stared at you. Blankly. Then, his gaze dropped to your hand gesture, his lips parting in complete and utter confusion.

Oh. Oh no.

A terrible realization dawned on you.

"Wait... do you speak English?!"

His eyes flickered between yours. Then, with the most serious face imaginable, he nodded and said:

"Yes?"

You nearly screamed.

"Is that the only word you know?!

This was certainly not the vacation you had envisioned.

A luxury cruise? Yes. A wealthy, attractive companion? Preferably. Plummeting into the ocean amid chaos and destruction? Absolutely not.

With a death grip on the railing, you watched in mounting horror as the ship tilted further, the ominous creaking of metal sending chills down your spine. All around you, passengers screamed, objects crashed, and luggage—along with some unfortunate individuals—slid helplessly toward the abyss below.

Tears welled in your eyes as you turned to the Korean man beside you, his sharp features illuminated by the dim emergency lights. Desperation clung to your voice as you wailed, "This is not the vacation I asked for!"

Sunghoon, for his part, simply blinked at you, his expression torn between mild concern and complete bewilderment.

The ship groaned once more, sinking lower into the sea. The reality of the situation hit you. You were going to die.

"Oh my God, I'm going to die!" you shrieked, voice cracking as panic consumed you.

Sunghoon continued to stare, his brows knitting together in what could only be described as confusion mixed with secondhand embarrassment.

This was not the time for him to have a language barrier.

"I JUST WANTED TO GET LAID!" you sobbed, squeezing the railing with every ounce of strength you had left.

Still, Sunghoon offered no response. Just that same perplexed expression—one that strongly suggested he was internally running your words through the world's slowest translation process.

Meanwhile, the water was rising fast.

"I'm going to die, I'm going to die, I'm going to die—" you chanted, spiraling into complete hysteria as the ocean climbed closer, swallowing everything in its path.

Ice-cold water crashed into you with unforgiving force, stealing the breath from your lungs. Before you could fully comprehend the overwhelming shock, Sunghoon seized you, his arms encircling your body in a firm, desperate hold.

A moment later, the sea consumed you both. Everything after that was a blur. The waves tossed you around like a ragdoll, the darkness swallowing you whole. Every time you managed to break the surface for air, another merciless wave would crash down, dragging you back under.

You flailed, arms reaching desperately toward the sky.

"I don't want to get eaten by a shark!" You tried to scream, but the ocean rudely muffled your voice with another mouthful of saltwater.

Somewhere in the middle, you felt a strong grip on your waist— the Korean man. He was holding onto you, trying to keep you afloat as the ocean threatened to devour you both. Around you, screams and cries echoed in the distance. Floating debris—luggage, chairs, life vests—came hurtling toward you.

Then, darkness came over you.

You woke up to the feeling of something cool and soft beneath you. Your eyes fluttered open, the bright sun blinding you for a moment. The distant sound of gentle waves lapping against the shore filled your ears.

Sand. White sand. The water lazily brushed against your bare legs.

You slowly sat up, your body aching everywhere. Your legs were covered in bruises and scrapes, your back felt like you had been slammed into a brick wall, and your head was pounding.

Tears pricked at your eyes as you took in the scene before you—baggage, broken furniture, random objects from the cruise all scattered across the shore. The ocean had spit everything out onto the island.

Everything... except the people. Your breath hitched. Where were they?

Your chest tightened, panic bubbling in your throat. You were alone.

The realization hit you hard, and you did what any normal, rational person would do in this situation.

You sobbed. Loudly.

You stumbled to your feet, kicking at the sand in frustration. "No, no, no, no—" You stomped forward, your mind racing—until you suddenly tripped over something.

Or rather, someone.

Your heart nearly exploded out of your chest as you whipped around.

There, lying on the sand, completely still, was the Korean man.

His eyes were closed. His body unmoving. Panic smashed into you.

"Wait... Are you dead?!" you shrieked, scrambling toward him.

You pressed your ear to his chest, listening for a heartbeat.

...Was that his pulse, or just the waves in the distance?

You bit your lip, shaking hands moving to his wrist.

You don't know. Without thinking, you shot up, hands hovering over his chest.

Did you know CPR?

Absolutely not.

But now was a great time to learn.

"Okay, okay, stay calm," you told yourself, immediately panicking as you placed both hands on his chest and began pressing down. "One, two, three— Come on! Wake up, oppa!"

After a few more uncoordinated chest compressions, Sunghoon suddenly jerked upright, a massive gush of water spilling from his mouth.

You gasped, staggering back, clutching your own chest in shock.

His eyes darted around, his breaths ragged. Then, in a hoarse voice, he finally spoke.

"Beach?" Your jaw dropped.

"What did you just called me?!" you shrieked, standing up so fast you nearly toppled over. You pointed an accusatory finger at him, voice dripping with betrayal.

"After I saved your life, you have the audacity to call me a bitch?!"

Sunghoon, still catching his breath, blinked at you with an expression that teetered between exhaustion and utter bewilderment. Slowly, he lifted a shaky hand, pointing at the sand, the waves, the scattered debris around you.

"Beach?" he repeated, this time with a bit more certainty—like he was trying to confirm a very simple fact with a very unstable person.

Your mouth hung open as realization dawned.

Then, much to Sunghoon's evident concern, you let out a sharp laugh and dramatically dropped down beside him.

"No! We're not on a beach!" you declared, flinging a handful of sand in frustration.

"A beach is where you go on vacation! A beach is where you sip margaritas, flirt with people, and—" you gestured wildly, "—engage in adult activities! This? This is a shipwreck. This is a disaster. This is the exact opposite of a beach!"

You let out a deep, frustrated groan and kicked at the sand like a petulant child.

Sunghoon simply stared.

For a moment, the only sound was the gentle crash of waves and your heavy breathing.

Then, hesitantly, he tilted his head. "...Beach?"

You whipped around so fast your neck nearly snapped.

"Aren't you rich?!" you shrieked, pointing a finger at him. "Where are the rescue teams?! The helicopters?! The life-saving butlers?!"

Sunghoon looked at you, then at himself—shirt tattered, hair an absolute mess, shoeless—before giving you a flat, unimpressed stare.

"Do you even understand what I'm saying?!" you shouted.

Sunghoon flinched.

And then—you broke.

With a loud, dramatic sob, you collapsed forward, your head landing squarely on his lap.

Sunghoon froze.

It was unclear whether he was more alarmed by your breakdown or the fact that you were now clutching onto his pants.

"I just wanted to take a vacation," you whimpered, voice muffled against the fabric.

Sunghoon swallowed hard, his entire body stiffening as though any sudden movement might send you spiraling further.

For a moment, his hands hovered awkwardly, unsure of what to do. Then, hesitantly, he placed one hand on your back, patting you in the most cautious, unsure manner possible. It was clear he had no idea what you were saying, but somehow, he understood exactly what you meant.

After a long silence, you finally lifted your head, eyes puffy and red, and stared at him with all the hopelessness in the world.

"Are we going to die?" you asked softly.

Sunghoon swallowed hard, clearly trying not to panic at your proximity. His Adam's apple bobbed, his gaze flickering from your eyes to your tear-streaked face.

Sunghoon scratched the back of his head as he tried to process your words—or, at the very least, pretend he understood them. He glanced up at the sky, as if hoping divine intervention would provide him with a proper English response.

"E-Engrish... n-no," he stammered, his accent thick and adorable despite the very serious situation. Then, placing a hand on his chest, he introduced himself, "I'm Sunghoon."

You stared at him, tilting your head slightly, waiting for him to continue.

"Chaebol, uhh... b-boat, I do not know."

You squinted.

What the hell was a chaebol? Was that a type of rescue plan? A fancy emergency yacht? A secret society of ridiculously wealthy people who parachuted in to save their own?

"Okay, Sunghoon," you said, leaning in a little closer, placing your hands on either side of him, effectively trapping him in place. "I assume you're rich, right?"

Sunghoon blinked rapidly, visibly gulping at your sudden proximity. His entire body stiffened.

"Rich... big money... uhh," you raised your hand, flashing three fingers at him in an attempt to mimic a money sign.

"Yes," he nodded quickly. A breath of relief escaped your lips. You immediately sat up properly, crossing your legs in front of him.

"Okay, Sunghoon. I'm Y/N," you said, placing a hand on your chest as if introducing yourself to a lost toddler.

Sunghoon nodded, seemingly pleased with this exchange of names.

You then motioned dramatically between him, yourself, and the wide, endless ocean surrounding the island.

"Do you know when we're going to be rescued?"

Sunghoon followed the movement of your hand. His eyes drifted towards the vast expanse of nothingness.

There was a long, tense pause.

Then, slowly, Sunghoon turned back to you, his expression hesitant, searching for an answer in the endless horizon of nothingness. Your shoulders slumped in disappointment.

Of course. Of course, this was your luck.

With a heavy sigh, you stood up, brushing the sand off your legs and walking a few steps away from him. Tears welled in your eyes, blurring your vision.

First, you did not get laid.

Second, you experienced a shipwreck.

Third, you were now stuck on a deserted island with a man who could barely string together a full English sentence.

What was next? Would a coconut fall on your head for comedic effect? Maybe a monkey would try to pull your hair. At this point, you wouldn't even be surprised.

Throwing your arms up dramatically, you turned towards the ocean and screamed at the top of your lungs, "Help!"

Silence. Not even an echo. Just the sound of gentle waves and a very distant seagull that clearly did not give a shit about your crisis.

"Help!" you screamed again, voice cracking slightly. "Somebody, anybody, rescue me!"

Nothing. You were on your own. No WiFi, no room service, no air conditioning.

"God," you muttered bitterly, hands on your hips, "my life is a fucking joke."

You collapsed onto the sand, pulling your knees to your chest, forehead resting against them. Your body shook with quiet sobs.

If only you had just stayed home. Worked some overtime. Maybe downloaded Tinder and lowered your standards. You could have been having a perfectly miserable date with an emotionally unavailable finance bro instead of... whatever this was.

Footsteps approached you.

You didn't look up, just continued to sniffle pathetically into your knees.

A hesitant voice finally broke the silence.

"S-sorry," Sunghoon said.

Your head slowly lifted, eyes red and puffy as you blinked up at him.

"Why are you saying sorry?" you asked, voice raspy from all the screaming.

He scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. "C-can't speak Engrish. Y-you angry."

Your chest softened.

Oh, great. Now you felt like an asshole.

You shook your head, sighing. "No, I'm not angry. I'm just..." You searched for the right word. "Frustrated. This isn't your fault."

Sunghoon stared at you, unsure. You sighed again, rubbing your temples. "I'm sorry for the way I treated you."

For a moment, the two of you just sat there, the sound of the waves filling the silence between you.

Then, Sunghoon exhaled deeply, looking at the endless stretch of ocean before him.

"Maybe... no die," he said, nodding to himself as if convincing both of you.

You sniffled, raising an eyebrow at him. "Yeah? And what makes you so sure?"

Sunghoon turned to you, giving you a small, confident smile.

"Rich," he said simply, pointing at himself.

And for the first time since this whole nightmare started, you laughed.

"Clothes—essential. Toothbrush and toothpaste, thank God. A picture frame? Weird, but okay. Slippers—wait, where's the other pair? Glasses... maybe useful." You muttered under your breath, rummaging through the scattered belongings that had washed up on shore.

Sunghoon sat in front of you, watching with quiet curiosity, as if trying to decipher some kind of complex survival strategy.

The sun was beginning to dip below, the waves growing louder, and most importantly—your stomach was still empty.

You continued digging through the suitcase, hoping for something practical, when your fingers brushed against a small plastic packet. Pulling it out, you squinted at the object in your hand before realization dawned.

"You have got to be fucking kidding me," you deadpanned, holding up a condom like it was an insult to your very existence.

Sunghoon's face turned a deep shade of red as he immediately looked away, pretending to admire the trees.

With a defeated sigh, you flopped onto the sand. "This is not going to work out."

After a moment, you sat up again, looking at Sunghoon as an idea formed in your mind.

"They're probably looking for you, right? Because you're rich?" You rested your chin on your hand, studying him. "Maybe we won't be stuck here for long."

Sunghoon blinked at you, clearly lost.

Your gaze drifted over his sharp features—the dark moles scattered across his skin, his thick brows, his annoyingly flawless complexion.

He was attractive, sure, but not exactly your type. He had that soft, polished look, like he walked straight out of a K-drama. And while that might make some people swoon, you preferred your men a little rougher around the edges. Maybe someone like Thomas Brodie-Sangster—slim but scrappy, and preferably fluent in English.

Sunghoon swallowed hard under your scrutiny, shifting slightly.

"You're, like, super handsome," you admitted, gesturing at him. "Do you have a girlfriend?"

He opened his mouth. "M-marry?"

Your eyes widened. "You're married?!"

Sunghoon's hands flew up in protest, frantically shaking his head. "No, no! I don't want marry, but... I have marry."

You squinted at him, processing his words. Then, after a few seconds, you clapped your hands together. "Oh! You mean you're supposed to get married, but you don't want to?"

Sunghoon nodded, letting out a frustrated sigh, his expression a mixture of frustration and resignation.

You huffed, crossing your arms. "Well, that sucks. Arranged marriage?"

He hesitated before nodding.

You let out a dramatic gasp, clutching your chest. "Wow. Straight out of a K-drama."

Sunghoon blinked at you, obviously not understanding a word you just said.

You sighed, leaning back on your hands. "So, let me get this straight. You're rich, engaged against your will, stuck on an island with me, and completely at my mercy when it comes to survival."

Sunghoon frowned slightly. "M-mercy?"

You grinned, rubbing your hands together. "Exactly. I could totally make you my servant right now, and you wouldn't even know how to argue back."

Sunghoon narrowed his eyes at you, clearly sensing mischief but unable to form a proper response.

You raised the condom still in your hand. "For example, I could totally tell you this is an emergency water container, and you'd believe me."

Sunghoon's face turned even redder, and he quickly looked away, pretending to be very interested in the sand.

Laughing at his reaction, you finally tossed it aside. "Relax, Sunghoon. Not like I can use it anyway—no boyfriend, no food, no shelter. Priorities."

Sunghoon cleared his throat, still avoiding eye contact.

The hunger pangs in your stomach reminded you of your actual priorities, and you groaned, clutching your middle.

"Okay, serious question, do you know how to start a fire?"

Sunghoon furrowed his brows. "Fire?"

You mimed striking two rocks together. "Fire. Heat. Warmth. Cook food—" You paused, suddenly remembering you had no food to cook. "Okay, fine. Just warmth for survival."

Determined, you stood up and made your way into the forest, not venturing too far but gathering leaves and scraps of wood along the way. Sunghoon followed closely behind, mimicking your actions with quiet concentration.

Once you had collected a decent pile, you dropped everything onto the sand with a satisfied sigh. Grabbing two stones, you struck them together, fully expecting a spark to appear.

Nothing happened.

Sunghoon tilted his head, watching with clear confusion but staying silent.

You huffed in frustration, then grabbed two sticks instead. Placing one between your palms, you furiously rotated it against another piece of wood, convinced this would be the breakthrough moment.

Still, nothing.

"U-uh... Y/N, what you do?" Sunghoon finally asked, breaking the silence.

You shot him a deadpan look. "Fire. I'm making fire so we don't freeze to death." To illustrate, you hugged yourself for warmth, then dramatically mimed flames with your hands.

Sunghoon blinked, then casually reached into one of the scattered bags that had washed up on shore. After rummaging around for a moment, he pulled out a small, sleek object.

You squinted.

Then your eyes widened.

"Motherfucker," you muttered, staring at the lighter in his hand.

He held it up proudly, flipping the cap open and striking the wheel. A tiny flame flickered to life instantly.

You blinked. Then, slowly, you looked down at your raw, aching hands, still clutching the two useless pieces of wood you had spent the last ten minutes vigorously rubbing together.

Sunghoon, still not oblivious to your growing frustration, smiled and tilted his head.

"Fire," he said helpfully, as if you had not just been struggling to invent it from scratch.

"Yeah. Fire," you deadpanned, dropping the wood onto the sand and rubbing your sore palms. "Great discovery, Sunghoon."

Sunghoon beamed, clearly proud of himself, and you had to physically restrain yourself from throwing a rock at his stupidly handsome face.

Sighing, you sat back down. "Alright, whatever. At least we won't freeze to death," you muttered, watching as Sunghoon carefully set up the fire like a man who had never camped a day in his life.

A small flame flickered, the dry leaves catching quickly.

You exhaled in relief, finally feeling the warmth seep into your skin.

Sunghoon sat beside you, grinning.

"So," you said, glancing at him. "You know that the bag had a lighter this whole time, huh?"

Sunghoon blinked innocently. "Yes?"

You inhaled sharply, forcing a smile as you stared into the flames.

This man was going to kill you before the island did.

You had no idea how you even managed to fall asleep, but exhaustion had clearly won. When you woke up, the first thing you saw was Sunghoon sprawled beside you, mouth wide open, snoring so loud.

Your nostrils flared as you sat up, rubbing your face and trying to shake off the grogginess. Survival. Right. That was still a thing you had to figure out.

Glancing out at the sea, you searched for any signs of boats or people. Nothing. Just endless waves mocking your misfortune. With a sigh, you stood up and began collecting the scattered items that had washed ashore, piling them near your makeshift sleeping area.

A chair? Seriously?

Some wooden planks—those could be useful.

A knife—now we're talking.

Plastic bottles.

And... a fishing rod.

Your eyes widened. A fishing rod!

Determined, you set off further down the shore, hoping to find more supplies—or, by some miracle, another human being. You combed through the sand, picking up anything remotely useful, before finally returning to your spot.

By then, Sunghoon was awake, squinting against the sunlight like a grumpy toddler.

"What you do?" he asked, voice deep and groggy.

You stared at him, then dramatically gestured to the growing pile of survival essentials.

"I'm gathering things to help us survive," you explained. As expected, Sunghoon tilted his head like a confused puppy but nodded anyway, accepting your words without question.

"We can improvise with these. Maybe even explore deeper into the forest... but I don't know. It might be dangerous. We need a strategy." You tapped your chin, thinking hard.

From Sunghoon's perspective, you looked extremely serious—like a survival expert. Meanwhile, you were just winging it.

"Are you hungry?" you asked, signing with your hands—pointing to your stomach, then miming eating.

Sunghoon immediately nodded, clutching his stomach.

That was... adorable.

No. Focus. Survival first.

You sat down and started rummaging through the bags you had collected, treating it like an unboxing video. "Come on, help me. Maybe there's food in here!"

Both of you tore through the bags, tossing useless items aside. Clothes, chargers, toiletries—no food. The tension built with each disappointing find until—

Sunghoon gasped dramatically, holding up a plastic bag of biscuits.

Both of you locked eyes, pure joy spreading across your faces. You snatched the bag, ripped it open, and shoved a biscuit into your mouth.

Tears welled in your eyes. Food had never tasted this good.

The two of you ate in silence, savoring every bite. Biscuit after biscuit disappeared—until there was only one pack left.

You froze. Sunghoon froze.

Slowly, his hand inched toward the last pack.

Without hesitation, you smacked it away.

He looked at you, betrayed.

"We need to ration our food! We don't know how long we'll be stuck here!" You crossed your arms, glaring at him.

"B-but hungry," he pouted.

You wagged your finger at him. "Nuh-uh! No more until we figure out how to get more food."

Sunghoon sighed, pouting his lips.

Ignoring his silent suffering, you grabbed the fishing rod and held it up proudly.

"We can use the biscuit as bait and catch a fish! Boom—instant lunch!" You grinned, excited by your own genius idea.

Sunghoon blinked at you. "mulgogi?"

You frowned for a second before assuming he was saying "fish" in Korean. Nodding confidently, you handed him the fishing rod. "Yes! mulgogi. We catch. We eat."

Sunghoon nodded in understanding—or at least, you hoped he did.

The two of you marched toward the shore.

You broke a small piece of the precious biscuit, carefully hooking it onto the line. Sunghoon watched, tilting his head.

"Now, we wait," you said, tossing the line into the water with a triumphant flick of your wrist.

And so, you waited. And waited. And waited.

The waves gently lapped against the shore. A seagull screeched in the distance. Sunghoon scratched his head. You started humming a tune.

Nothing.

After what felt like an eternity, you sighed, passing the fishing rod to him and crossing your arms. "Okay, maybe they just don't like biscuits."

Sunghoon tilted his head, looking equally disappointed.

You scoffed, throwing your hands in the air. "How dare they? If I were a fish, I'd take a bite!"

Sunghoon blinked at you. "You... fish?"

You sighed, patting his shoulder. "No, Sunghoon. I am not a fish."

He nodded slowly, still looking confused.

Sunghoon squinted at the rod, as if trying to communicate with the fish telepathically. Then, without warning, he yanked the rod back—so forcefully that the biscuit flew off the hook and straight into the ocean.

Both of you gasped in horror.

Sunghoon turned to you, wide-eyed. "Biscuit... gone."

You inhaled sharply, fists clenched at your sides. "Sunghoon."

He gulped. "Y-yes?"

"You just fed the fish."

Sunghoon opened his mouth, then immediately shut it. He glanced at the ocean, then back at you, then at the fishing rod in his hands.

Slowly, he placed it on the ground and took a step back.

You groaned, rubbing your temples. "Okay. New plan."

Sunghoon nodded eagerly. "New plan."

Silence settled between you both.

"...What plan?" he asked after a moment.

With an exasperated sigh, you pulled yourself to your feet and marched toward the forest.

"Y/N, what plan?!" Sunghoon hurried after you, watching in alarm as you grabbed a knife and a bag before stepping into the thick greenery.

"Don't follow me! It's dangerous—we don't know if there are wild animals or some dangerous tribe that eats humans!" you warned.

Sunghoon shook his head stubbornly. "N-no! Uh... alone here, no!"

"I'm trying to get us food! Or maybe water!" You walked faster, pushing aside vines and leaves with the knife.

You knew this was risky. Venturing into a dense, unfamiliar forest on a deserted island was far from a smart move. But you were out of options. If you couldn't catch anything in the ocean, you at least needed fresh water. Otherwise, dehydration and hunger would do you in before rescue ever arrived.

How long was that going to take anyway?

"Y/N!" Sunghoon's voice snapped you out of your thoughts.

You halted, eyes widening at the sight before you—tall coconut trees stood proudly above, their fruit clustered high above your reach.

"Liquid secured!" You grinned, pointing upward.

Sunghoon followed your gaze, squinting at the coconuts.

"Can you climb?" you asked, turning to him.

Sunghoon opened his mouth to respond, but before a single word could escape, a sharp hissing sound cut through the air.

Both of you froze.

Sunghoon glanced down and immediately went pale. Something slithered near his foot.

His face contorted in horror. "Snakeu!!!"

Panic surged through you both.

Without thinking, you stomped your feet, hoping to scare the creature away. Meanwhile, Sunghoon did the only logical thing in his state of sheer terror—he leaped onto you, wrapping his legs tightly around your waist like a terrified koala.

You didn't even process the weight before pure adrenaline kicked in. Screaming, you took off sprinting, charging back toward the beach, carrying him in your arms as if your life depended on it.

By the time you hit the white sand, your legs finally gave out. You collapsed, Sunghoon landing beneath you.

And then, he looked at you.

The sunlight framed your face, casting a soft glow over your features. Strands of your hair stuck to your forehead from the sweat of running, but somehow, it only made you look more effortless—wild, untamed, yet undeniably beautiful.

Your wide eyes, still filled with leftover adrenaline, shimmered under the golden light, and your lips, slightly parted as you tried to catch your breath, looked softer than he'd expect for someone who had just sprinted for their life.

Sunghoon gulped.

Pretty, his mind supplied unhelpfully. Too pretty.

Forgetting himself, he continued staring, his gaze following the curve of your nose, the way your eyelashes fluttered slightly, the way your brows furrowed just a little in confusion.

"...So," you finally said, voice still breathless, "did we outrun the snake or was that just a leaf?"

Sunghoon blinked rapidly, snapping out of whatever trance he had fallen into.

"Maybe... leaf," he mumbled.

You huffed heavily, peeling yourself off of him and rolling onto the sand. "Unbelievable," you muttered under your breath, staring up at the sky.

Sunghoon sat up beside you, still catching his breath. His gaze lingered on your face, noting the way your chest rose and fell steadily, the slight pout of your lips, and the faint traces of exhaustion on your features.

"You... not angry?" he asked hesitantly.

You turned your head toward him, flashing a sarcastic smile. "Oh, no, not at all, Sunghoon. I love sprinting for my life from imaginary snakes. It's my favorite cardio workout."

Sunghoon nodded slowly, pretending to understand. Smiling at you sweetly in relief.

You almost roll your eyes. With a sigh, you pushed yourself up, dusting the sand off your legs. "Let me take a break, and then I'll go back to the forest."

At that, Sunghoon's eyes widened, and he shook his head frantically. "No, no, no. Uh... plan. Me and you." He pointed at himself, then at you, then toward the dreaded forest.

You raised a brow. "You want to join me in the forest?"

Sunghoon nodded determinedly.

"But you're scared," you teased, a smirk tugging at your lips. "Snakeu."

At the word, Sunghoon visibly tensed, quickly making an X with his arms before pressing his palms together in a solemn promise. "No scared. Protect you."

You stared at him for a moment, amused by his attempt at bravery. He's terrified, you thought, but the way he sat up straight, brows furrowed in mock seriousness, was kind of... endearing.

With a small chuckle, you rolled your eyes. "Fine, you're coming with me. But if we see another snakeu, you're on your own."

Sunghoon gulped, but he nodded nonetheless.

"Tarzan is so hot," you muttered, arms crossed as you admired the imaginary image of him in your mind. "The muscles, the biceps, the way he moves like a monkey but still looks insanely attractive—"

A loud grunt snapped you back to reality.

You turned your head, watching Sunghoon struggle with the coconut tree like his life depended on it. His entire body was wrapped around the trunk, clinging awkwardly, legs flailing as he tried to inch his way up. It was like watching a very determined sloth attempt a pull-up.

You sighed, placing your hands on your hips. This is the smallest coconut tree you’ve ever seen, you thought, and this man still can't even reach halfway.

Sunghoon let out a final, defeated grunt before—

"Agh!"

With an unceremonious thud, he slid down, landing flat on his back.

You blinked.

"Wow. That was... impressive," you deadpanned.

Sunghoon exhaled heavily, staring at the sky. "Tree... no good," he muttered.

You crouched beside him, suppressing a laugh. "You okay?"

He sat up slowly, wincing as he rubbed his back. "Yes. But... coconut no like me."

You snorted. "Maybe we should try something else before you break a rib. Or your dignity."

Sunghoon nodded, still dazed. "New plan."

You clapped your hands together. "Okay! New plan—you're gonna carry me on your shoulders so I can reach the coconuts. Got it?"

Sunghoon just blinked at you.

Right. Language barrier.

Sighing, you resorted to charades, dramatically pointing at him, then at yourself, and then mimicking climbing motions. Miraculously, his eyes lit up with understanding. Thank God.

Moments later, you found yourself perched on Sunghoon's shoulders, gripping his head for dear life as he carefully guided you toward the coconut tree.

You gulped. Holy shit, he's tall. The ground seemed miles away, and your legs instinctively tightened around his shoulders.

"Sunghoon, I'm gonna stand now—hold me steady, okay?" you said, voice laced with nerves.

Sunghoon let out a small grunt, bracing his hands on your legs to keep you balanced. Slowly, you placed your feet on his broad shoulders, wobbling slightly as you adjusted.

Then you realized something.

"Sunghoon, lift my butt!"

His whole body stiffened. "H-huh?!"

You wiggled your hips impatiently. "Lift it! Come on, boost me up!"

Sunghoon made a choking sound. He stared up at you, his hands hovered awkwardly, debating whether to touch or run for his life.

"Sunghoon!" you urged.

With a face so red it could rival the sunset, he hesitantly placed his hands under you and lifted you up—his movements stiff, careful, and very, very flustered.

"You—uh, Y/N—uh, this okay?" Sunghoon stammered, barely breathing.

"Yes, yes! Just hold still!" you hissed, gripping the tree like your life depended on it.

With a few forceful climbs and some questionable wobbles, you somehow managed to hoist yourself up to the top.

You let out a triumphant breath, balancing yourself against the trunk. Looking down, you spotted Sunghoon still standing right beneath you.

"Move away!" you shouted, one hand gripping a coconut, ready to drop it.

Sunghoon blinked up at you, clueless. "Huh?!"

"Move! Get away—shit!"

The coconut slipped from your grasp.

Sunghoon yelped, narrowly dodging the potential skull-cracking disaster as the coconut crashed into the ground beside him. His eyes were as wide as saucers, his breath ragged.

"You almost kill me!" he gasped, clutching his chest as if his heart might leap out at any moment.

You let out an exasperated sigh, rolling your eyes. While you didn't understand the exact words, his tone—and the sheer terror on his face—was enough to fill in the blanks.

"Well, I did tell you to move!" you retorted, balancing carefully atop the tree.

Sunghoon scowled up at you, still visibly shaken.

"I'm just trying to get us food!" you added, plucking another coconut and holding it threateningly. "So, unless you want a concussion, I suggest you listen next time!"

He promptly scrambled further away, eyes never leaving the coconut in your hand.

"Liquid secured."

You exhaled deeply, taking a moment to appreciate the small victory. At the very least, thirst would not be your cause of death. The sky, now dimming into a darker shade of blue, hinted at impending rainfall—an additional blessing in disguise.

However, food remained an unsolved predicament.

As you and Sunghoon trudged back from the shore, he struggled to balance four coconuts in his arms, his gait slightly unsteady as he maneuvered around scattered debris. You, on the other hand, scanned the surroundings in search of anything remotely edible. That was when you spotted them—clusters of goose plums nestled among the greenery.

A wave of relief washed over you. At least we won't starve completely. Thank God for your basic fruit knowledge, or you'd probably be chewing on something poisonous by now.

But that wasn't the only thing you noticed.

It was bright afternoon when your feet reach you at the shore. Right there, lying on the damp sand, was a peculiar, cucumber-shaped creature. It wriggled slightly, looking almost alien-like.

Sunghoon, sipping coconut water through a plastic straw he salvaged from one of the washed-up bags, stepped beside you and followed your gaze.

His eyes followed your line of sight, and together, in perfect synchrony, the two of you tilted your heads.

A long silence ensued.

You crouched down first, carefully extending a finger toward the mysterious creature.

Tap. Nothing. You tap it again, still no reaction.

You narrowed your eyes. "Are you edible?" you murmured, voice barely above a whisper, as if trying to communicate with the unknown entity. And then— Without warning, the creature released a sudden jet of thick, white liquid from its opening.

Sunghoon, caught mid-sip, choked violently on his coconut water, his body jerking forward as he coughed uncontrollably. His face contorted in sheer disbelief as he desperately tried to regain control of his breathing. Meanwhile, you froze, eyes blown wide in shock.

For a brief moment, there was only stunned silence between the two of you. And then, the laughter erupted.

You collapsed onto the sand, wheezing, clutching your stomach as the absurdity of the situation washed over you. Sunghoon was now lying on his back, laughing so hard that no sound was coming out. His entire body shook as he hit the sand repeatedly, as if trying to exorcise the memory from his mind.

"Did—did that just happen?!" you gasped between fits of laughter. Sunghoon, still struggling to form coherent words, simply nodded, his entire face red from either laughter or oxygen deprivation.

Tears gathered at the corners of your eyes as you wiped at them. "Oh my god, we broke it." Still chuckling, you reached forward and picked up the poor, unsuspecting creature once again. Sunghoon, immediately wary, scooted backward.

"Touch it," you urged, barely holding back another laugh. Sunghoon furrowed his brows, shaking his head vehemently. "No. No, no, no. I do not trust."

Rolling your eyes, you tilted the creature toward him. "Come on, it's harmless! Just one little poke!" He hesitated. Then, after much internal debate, he extended a single, reluctant finger—

Another burst of white liquid shot out. This time, Sunghoon shrieked. An actual shriek.

You collapsed onto the sand, utterly useless, consumed by another fit of uncontrollable laughter. "It looks like a cumming dick!" you wheezed, barely able to breathe between your giggles.

Sunghoon, already red from laughter, turned an even deeper shade of crimson. He smacked his hands over his face, groaning between chuckles.

The two of you continued laughing until your stomachs ached, rolling on the sand like complete idiots stranded in the middle of nowhere. Eventually, the hysteria died down, replaced by exhausted breaths and occasional snickers.

Now, both of you sat in silence, crouched by a small fire, cooking the very same sea cucumber you had been laughing at moments ago.

You poked at it with a makeshift stick, watching as it sizzled in the weak flames. "This feels morally wrong," you muttered.

Sunghoon, eyes trained on the fire, hummed in thought. "It... safe?" he asked, looking at you as if you were supposed to be the survival expert here.

You gave him a deadpan stare. "You tell me. You're the one who said it's edible."

Sunghoon pursed his lips before shrugging. "Maybe... maybe die?"

You smacked his arm. "Don't joke like that!"

"Maybe not die?" he corrected quickly, holding back a laugh.

Days of being stranded on an island were the last thing you ever wanted to experience. It was nothing like the adventure movies made it seem—those always ended with the survivors thin, sunburnt, and borderline insane.

At first, you had dreaded ending up the same way. But now, on day four, you weren't so sure.

You glanced at Sunghoon, who was currently sitting in the sand, attempting to build a very questionable-looking sandcastle. Despite his hopeless survival skills, he was surprisingly unbothered by the entire situation.

He ate whatever you managed to scavenge, tried (and failed) to catch fish with his bare hands, and even helped you construct a pitiful excuse for a tent.

What stood out the most, though, was how quickly he picked up on your words. Each day, his English improved bit by bit—though not without some truly hilarious mistranslations along the way.

You watched him pile more wet sand onto his lopsided creation, his expression one of pure focus.

Maybe being stranded wasn't that bad. Not if you had someone like Sunghoon around—someone who didn't crumble under stress but instead found joy in the smallest things.

"Sunghoon," you called, watching as he paused mid-sandcastle, hands covered in damp grains of sand. He lifted his head, tilting it slightly in curiosity.

"Are you happy?"

For a moment, he didn't answer. Instead, he glanced up at the sky, his usual thinking habit, before nodding. "Yes."

His smile was soft, genuine—like he truly meant it.

You found yourself studying his face, taking in the details you had unconsciously memorized over the past four days.

The way his cheeks and nose were always tinged red from too much sun exposure. The way his eyes flickered upward in thought before he gave you a response. The way he would bring back scraps of wood for the fire with a proud grin, as if he had just conquered the wilderness.

And, of course, the way he flexed his arms at you as a joke, despite not being particularly muscular.

Sunghoon was... unexpected. A person you would have never imagined being stuck with, yet somehow, he made the situation bearable. Maybe even enjoyable.

Lost in thought, you almost didn't notice when he suddenly struck a pose, flexing again with an exaggerated smirk. "Strong man."

You snorted, shaking your head. "Yeah, yeah, whatever you say, Tarzan."

Sunghoon furrowed his brows. "Tar...zan?"

You rolled your eyes, leaning back onto your hands. "Forget it."

The playful atmosphere lingered for a moment before Sunghoon's expression shifted, his hands slowing as he traced patterns into the sand. His voice was quieter when he spoke again.

"In Korea, I am not happy," he admitted, gaze fixed downward. "Marry a girl I do not love."

You stared at him, letting him talk.

Sunghoon sighed, his fingers drawing absent-minded circles in the sand. "Family say... must marry. No choice." He looked up at you, something heavy in his eyes. "I do not want marry."

You frowned, hugging your knees to your chest. "That's... kind of messed up."

Sunghoon tilted his head, not fully understanding, so you sighed and tried again. "I mean, forcing you to marry someone you don't love? That's not fair."

He nodded slowly, as if letting the words sink in. "Yes. Not fair."

"Is that why you separate yourself from them when the cruise is sinking?" you asked carefully. "Were you... running away from them?"

Sunghoon hesitated, then gave a small nod. "Yes."

You let out a low whistle, leaning back on your palms. "Damn. So, technically, this island might be the best thing to happen to you."

Sunghoon blinked, then let out a dry chuckle. "Maybe."

You nudged him with your foot. "So, what's the plan? When we get rescued, are you going back? Or are you gonna pull a full-on lost prince escaping his royal duties situation?"

He seemed to think for a long moment before exhaling. "I... do not know."

You had no sarcastic remark, no teasing quip. Instead, you just sat there, watching as Sunghoon absentmindedly drew a stick figure in the sand.

After a moment, you sighed, resting your chin on your knees. "Well, at least you're safe here. No family breathing down your neck, no forced marriage... just me, you, and our little slice of survival hell."

Sunghoon chuckled under his breath, shaking his head. "Hell?"

You gestured around dramatically. "Oh, absolutely. No internet, no fast food, no soft beds—this is prime suffering, my friend."

He gave you a lopsided smile. "But... you smile."

You blinked, caught off guard. "Huh?"

Sunghoon pointed at you, tilting his head. "Say suffering... but smile."

Your lips parted, but you had no immediate response. You hadn't really thought about it, but he was right. Sure, the situation sucked, and yes, you'd kill for a burger and an actual shower, but... you were still smiling. Still laughing.

Maybe it was because of him.

Shaking off the thought, you huffed dramatically. "Well, what can I say? Misery loves company."

Sunghoon furrowed his brows. "Misery... loves company?"

You waved a hand. "It just means suffering is easier when you're not alone."

He nodded as if absorbing the meaning, then gave you a small, knowing smile. "Then... we suffer together."

You snorted, nudging him again. "Damn right."

The conversation could've turned heavy again, but Sunghoon suddenly gasped, eyes wide as he pointed behind you.

"Y/N! Look!"

You whipped around, expecting something dramatic—maybe a rescue boat, a wild animal, or even another poor soul who had washed up on the shore. Instead, it was a coconut crab. A big, ugly coconut crab, waddling sideways near your pathetic attempt at a fire pit.

You turned back to Sunghoon, unimpressed. "Seriously?"

Sunghoon grinned, grabbing a stick like a spear. "Dinner."

You watched as he dramatically stood, stick raised like a warrior about to go into battle. The crab, oblivious, continued its slow march across the sand.

"You realize if you miss, that thing is coming for revenge, right?"

Sunghoon ignored you, focusing on his target. You watched, highly entertained, as he took a deep breath.

—And lunged.

And missed.

The stick bounced off the sand, the crab flinched, and Sunghoon yelped as the angry crustacean turned and started scuttling toward him at full speed.

"YA!" Sunghoon scrambled back, arms flailing.

You burst out laughing, clutching your stomach as he ran in circles, trying to escape the vengeful crab.

Day Eight. Still no rescue.

The massive SOS you had carefully arranged with coconut leaves on the white sand remained untouched, unnoticed. No planes overhead, no boats in the distance—just the endless ocean mocking you.

With a sigh, you decided to push deeper into the forest, hoping to find something useful. Sunghoon followed closely behind, gripping his makeshift spear like he was the lead character in a survival movie. His eyes darted around cautiously, scanning for any signs of danger.

You rolled your eyes. "Relax, Tarzan. The worst thing we've seen so far is that angry coconut crab."

Sunghoon frowned. "Crab scary."

You snorted, adjusting the bag slung over your shoulder. It was filled with random toiletries you had salvaged—mostly useless, but at least you had toothpaste, and body wash. Now, if only you could find fresh water.

You stopped abruptly, causing Sunghoon to bump into you.

"Yah!" he complained, rubbing his chest.

"Shh!" You raised a hand, listening. There was a faint, trickling sound. Your eyes widened, and you spun around to Sunghoon, grabbing his arm.

"Do you hear that?"

He tilted his head, listening, before his expression brightened. "Water?"

"Water!"

Without hesitation, you grabbed his wrist and took off running toward the sound. Sunghoon stumbled after you, nearly tripping over roots in his rush to keep up.

The two of you crashed through the foliage, excitement building—until you finally broke through a clearing.

And there it was.

A beautiful, crystal-clear stream, flowing gently through the rocks, shimmering under the sunlight. Birds chirped overhead, the air smelled fresh and clean, and for a moment, it felt like you had just discovered paradise.

Tears pricked at your eyes. "Sunghoon... we did it. Fresh water!"

Sunghoon, equally amazed, crouched down to inspect it. He dipped a hand into the stream, watching as the water ran through his fingers. "Cold..."

"That's a good thing!" You practically shoved him aside in your eagerness, cupping your hands to drink. The cool liquid hit your throat, and you nearly moaned in relief. It wasn't salty, it wasn't muddy—just fresh, actual water.

Sunghoon watched you with a mixture of amusement and fascination before cautiously taking a sip himself. His eyes widened. "It's delicious..."

You grinned, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. "We're so smart."

Sunghoon chuckled. "Smart... but smell bad."

You gasped, shoving him. "Excuse me?!"

He laughed, dodging your attack. "Water here! Bath!"

You looked down at your clothes—torn, dirty, stained with sand and sweat. Okay, maybe he had a point.

But before you could respond, Sunghoon ripped his shirt off and stepped into the stream without hesitation.

You choked. "Wait—what are you doing?!"

Sunghoon turned to you, grinning. "Shower!"

Your face burned as you turned away. "Warn a girl next time, Jesus!"

Sunghoon only laughed, splashing water in your direction. You shrieked, grabbing your bag and hugging it to your chest.

Sunghoon happily swim to the fresh water, fully immersed in the crystal-clear water, his shoulders relaxing as he let out a contented sigh. He dipped beneath the surface, disappearing for a moment before resurfacing with a dramatic whip of his hair, water droplets spraying everywhere. His palms ran down his face, fingers sliding through his wet strands, slicking them back.

You gulped.

Your gaze unwillingly traced the sharp line of his jaw, down to the smooth expanse of his broad shoulders and sculpted back, muscles shifting effortlessly as he waded deeper into the water. The golden sunlight filtering through the trees made the droplets on his skin glow, highlighting every defined ridge and curve.

Was it suddenly hotter out here? Or was that just Sunghoon looking like a scene straight out of a movie?

You snapped out of it, clearing your throat and turning away, firmly fixing your gaze on a tree. Not today, hormones.

Sunghoon chuckled, as if sensing your distress. "You come, too?" he called, voice teasing.

You smirked, deciding to mess with him. "What if there's a snake in there?"

Sunghoon's eyes widened in sheer terror. He immediately glanced down at the water, frantically scanning his surroundings. "No snakeu!" he pouted, splashing water as if to scare off imaginary threats.

You burst out laughing at his panicked reaction. "Okay, okay! I'll swim."

Sunghoon's lips stretched into a pleased grin as he floated on his back, arms spread out, completely relaxed.

Smiling to yourself, you grabbed the hem of your tattered, eight-day-old dress, tearing off the ruined fabric until you were left in your two-piece swimsuit.

You rummaged through your bag, pulling out a tiny bottle of body wash from the toiletries kit you salvaged. With a satisfied nod, you stepped into the cool, refreshing water, slowly wading toward the center where Sunghoon drifted.

Despite the language barrier, you and Sunghoon had grown remarkably close over the past week. Most days were filled with silly games of rock, paper, scissors, where Sunghoon was a consistent loser—a fact you never let him forget.

Conversations, though sometimes broken and grammatically questionable, flowed naturally between you two.

You learned that Sunghoon's favorite food was something called misutgaru, a Korean grain powder drink, and he loved having it with bananas.

He was also obsessed with steak—to the point where he once ordered the same steak dish at the same restaurant for four consecutive days. The way he told you the story, with his endearingly bad grammar and exaggerated hand gestures, had you wheezing with laughter.

Sighing, you lathered the body wash onto your skin, enjoying the rare luxury of feeling somewhat clean again. Meanwhile, Sunghoon floated effortlessly on his back, arms and legs spread out, drifting like a carefree child.

For a brief moment, you allowed yourself to relax—until something brushed against your foot.

Your scream shattered the peaceful atmosphere as you kicked wildly, causing waves to ripple across the water. Sunghoon suddenly resurfaced right in front of you, grinning mischievously.

"You—!" you sputtered, eyes narrowing. "Was that you?!"

Sunghoon, completely unfazed by your outburst, tilted his head innocently. "What me?"

You scoffed, immediately cupping your hands and sending a massive splash of water straight at his face.

Sunghoon yelped, shielding himself. "Yah!" He barely had time to react before you splashed him again—this time, full force.

He lunged, sending a wave of water crashing into you. You shrieked, retaliating with even more aggressive splashes. It turned into an all-out war, both of you laughing uncontrollably as you tried to out-splash each other.

At one point, Sunghoon managed to sneak behind you, his strong arms locking around your waist as he lifted you out of the water.

"Got you!" he announced triumphantly.

You gasped, flailing your arms. "Sunghoon, you idiot—!"

Before you could finish, he dropped you back into the water with a loud splash.

Emerging with a gasp, you slicked your wet hair back, wiping water from your face before fixing Sunghoon with a glare.

"Oh, you're dead."

Sunghoon burst into laughter, backing away with his hands up in mock surrender, though the mischief in his eyes remained.

You were already preparing for another attack when he suddenly paused, his laughter fading into something softer.

"Y/N," he said, his voice gentler than before.

You blinked, lowering your hands. "What?"

He hesitated for a moment, then offered you a small smile. "You pretty."

You froze, the words catching you off guard. Your heart did an embarrassing little flip, and you were momentarily stunned into silence.

"Y/N always angry, but still pretty."

Your cheeks burned, and you whipped your head toward him, mouth opening in disbelief.

The sunlight filtering through the trees reflected off the water, making his damp skin glow, droplets trailing slowly down his sharp jawline.

Nope. Absolutely not.

Desperate to escape whatever weird, butterfly-inducing moment this was, you splashed him again—hard.

"Ugh, shut up!" you huffed, turning away quickly before he could see your very obvious blush.

Sunghoon yelped, laughing as he wiped the water from his face. "Why? Is true!"

You ignored him, stomping toward the shallow end. But, of course, Sunghoon followed, completely unfazed.

Spotting the tiny bottle of body wash in your hand, he plucked it from your grasp before you could protest, giving it an experimental squeeze onto his palm.

You sighed, watching as he lathered it onto his arms, "Y/N, Y/N, Y/N," he hummed your name happily, grinning as he rubbed soap onto his chest.

You stared at him, bewildered. There it was again—that stupid fluttering in your stomach.

"What's with you today?" you grumbled, narrowing your eyes.

He simply shook his head, still grinning. "Happy. We bath."

You blinked. That was it? That was the grand reason behind his weird, flirty behavior?

You sighed dramatically, leaning back against the rock. "God, you're so weird."

After a few hours, both of you remained at the same spot, basking in the rare moment of peace. The sun had dipped lower in the sky, casting a warm glow over the water. You were now wearing an oversized polo that you had salvaged from the washed-up luggage, while Sunghoon remained topless, his skin glistening with the remnants of water droplets.

You watched the gentle stream, absentmindedly tracing patterns in the damp fabric of your shirt when—

"Y/N, what's 'laid'?"

You choked on absolutely nothing. Your whole body stiffened.

Slowly, you turned to him, eyes wide, brain short-circuiting. Did you hear that right?

Sunghoon, meanwhile, looked completely innocent—his usual curious expression firmly in place.

"You... what?" you asked, as if giving him a chance to correct himself.

"You want laid, right?" he repeated, tilting his head. "What's 'laid'?"

Your soul left your body.

A thousand thoughts ran through your head, ranging from "oh my god" to "is this really happening" to "do I have to explain this to him?"

"W-Where did you hear that?!" you stammered, your face heating up.

"You said before boat sinks, you want laid."

Your hands flew to your face, muffling a groan. Of all the things he could've remembered from your endless rambling, it had to be that.

Taking a deep breath, you peeked at him through your fingers. He was still waiting—completely oblivious.

"There are two meanings," you sighed, already regretting this conversation. "The first one means to rest. Like when we lie down? That's called 'laying.' Past tense is 'laid.'"

Sunghoon nodded, seeming satisfied. But then, of course, he asked—

"And... the other?" You hesitated. Your foot tapped against the ground anxiously as you slowly raised your hands.

Left hand: circle. Right hand: pointer finger. You moved them together in a very telling motion.

Sunghoon's eyes followed the gesture. He tilted his head. Then, his ears turned bright red.

"Oh."

You nodded solemnly.

"OH."

His entire face flushed deep red, and he immediately covered his mouth like you had just said the worst possible thing. His body went stiff, and his gaze darted around.

"You say... you want laid?!" His voice cracked at the end, and his hands flew to his head in pure secondhand embarrassment.

"I didn't mean it like that!" you shrieked, slapping his arm. "It's just an expression! It doesn't always mean that!"

Sunghoon groaned loudly, collapsing onto the ground, his hands over his face.

"Nooo, Y/N, my brain!" he whined, rolling around like his entire existence had been shattered.

You couldn't help it. You burst out laughing.

"I can't believe you remembered that, of all things!" you teased, hugging your stomach as you watched him dramatically suffer.

Sunghoon peeked at you through his fingers, still blushing furiously. "You say bad thing," he muttered, shaking his head.

"You asked!" you shot back, still giggling.

Then you paused, tilting your head. "Wait... are you a virgin?"

Sunghoon's ears turned an even deeper shade of red. He avoided your gaze.

Your eyes widened. "No way! Aren't you, like, twenty-five?!"

He mumbled something under his breath, barely audible.

"What was that?" You leaned in.

Sunghoon exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. "Marry first, laid after."

You stared at him for a second before bursting out laughing. "That's so cute!"

Sunghoon scowled, clearly flustered. "W-why? You... you laid without marry?"

You grinned, casually reaching out to wipe a stray droplet from his thick eyebrows. "You don't have to be married to get laid, Sunghoon. People do it whenever they want."

Sunghoon's brows furrowed, his mind clearly working overtime as he processed your words. "Whenever... they want?"

You nodded, swallowing. Why was the air suddenly so thick?

Sunghoon blinked, his voice lower this time. "You want laid... now?"

Your breath hitched. The question hung between you, heavy and unspoken. Heat crept up your neck as you caught the way his gaze flickered to your lips before quickly darting back to your eyes.

Your heart pounded. "Why are you asking me that?" Your voice came out softer than intended. "Do you... want to get laid?"

Sunghoon swallowed hard. His Adam's apple bobbed, and you noticed the way his breath had deepened, the way his fingers twitched slightly at his sides.

He bit his lip—a nervous habit you had come to recognize over the past days. But this time, it felt different.

"I..." His voice wavered, his chest rose and fell in deep, uneven breaths. When he finally met your gaze, his eyes were dark.

The air pressed around you. The stream murmured softly behind you, the wind whispering through the trees—but you barely noticed. All you could focus on was him.

Then, your gaze dropped—lower. Your breath hitched. His shorts did little to hide the tension coiling in his body, his bulge are visible and you almost moaned at how huge it was.

"Fuck," you whispered under your breath, leaning in without thinking. Sunghoon tensed. His palm braced against the rock, as if trying to ground himself. His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed thickly.

"I-In Korea... m-marry first," he stammered, voice strained. But his body betrayed his words, drawn to you like a magnet.

You hummed, leaning closer, fingertips grazing his jawline, tracing the sharp edges down to his lips. His breath shuddered, his lashes fluttering.

"But I want you," he murmured, voice rough, sending a heat straight to your core.

You traced his face—his high cheekbones, the curve of his nose, the thick lines of his brows. He trembled under your touch.

"Want you," he whispered again, barely audible, but the desperation in his voice are obvious.

Your forehead pressed against his, your lips hovering a breath away. "Where do you want me?"

His grip tightened around your wrist, slowly guiding your hand to his crotch.

Your fingers brushed against him, and he sucked in a sharp breath, eyes screwing shut. "Hurts," he rasped, hips jerking slightly. "Please... help."

A rush of heat pooled in your stomach, but you hesitated. "Sunghoon..."

His grip tightened, your fingers tracing at the outline of his bulge before tugging down his shorts.

Heat rushed to your face as you took in the sight of him—hardened, aching, a bead of arousal gathering at the tip. Sunghoon let out a sharp exhale, his fingers twitching at his sides.

Lowering yourself onto your knees, ignoring the rough scrape of stone beneath you, you leaned in, placing a featherlight kiss at his tip before trailing lower. Sunghoon's breath hitched, his hands instinctively finding your face, fingers caressing your cheeks

His lips parted as he released a quiet, shuddering moan when you finally took him in, your mouth warm around him. His fingers threaded through your hair, hesitant at first, before tightening slightly when you hummed against him.

His hips jerked involuntarily, and he muttered something in Korean—words too soft, too breathless to understand, but the way his voice trembled sent heat curling in your stomach.

His body trembled beneath your touch, breath growing heavier, more unsteady. His fingers tangled deeper into your hair, a soft groan escaping his parted lips as his hips moved instinctively.

"F-feels... so good," he murmured, his head tilting back, exposing the sharp line of his jaw. The sound sent a rush of heat through you, your own body reacting to the way he surrendered so easily to your touch.

Your jaw ached, your knees stung against the rough ground, but none of it mattered. Not when he looked at you like that—half-lidded eyes glazed over, lips swollen from biting down his moans. You cupped him gently, tracing soft circles, and his breath hitched.

His voice turned breathy, laced with a desperation that made your stomach tighten. More words spilled from his lips in Korean, a mix of pleading and praise. You pulled away briefly, a thin strand of saliva still connecting you, and wrapped your fingers around him instead, stroking with a teasing rhythm.

"Are you close?" you whispered, watching him unravel beneath you.

Sunghoon nodded frantically, chest rising and falling in deep, shaky breaths. Then, with a sudden burst of need, his hands guided you back to him, his touch rough but hesitant.

"Marry you after... just, please—help me," he gasped, voice breaking as he gave in completely.

A flicker of amusement mixed with the heat curling in your stomach, but you didn't laugh. Instead, you leaned in, letting him lose himself to the feeling, his body tensing beneath your touch. The moment stretched, until his breath stuttered, and he finally let go—shuddering against you, gripping onto you.

"Ngh,” Sunghoon gasped, his breath coming in uneven pants as you continued, helping him ride out his high. His body trembled beneath your touch, muscles taut with pleasure.

Slowly, you pulled away, swallowing as you caught your breath. When you looked up, Sunghoon's eyes were already on you— wide, shock and confused.

You wiped your lips with the back of your hand, "are you okay?"

Still dazed, Sunghoon averted his gaze, his face burning red. His hands twitched, shifting uncomfortably as if unsure what to do next. He muttered something under his breath in Korean, words too soft for you to catch.

"You didn't like it?" You frowned, suddenly feeling self-conscious.

His head snapped toward you, eyes widening in alarm. "N-no! Like! I like!"

You barely had time to react before he grabbed your wrist, gently pulling you to sit beside him. He cupped the water in his hands and suddenly tried to bring it to your lips, his expression shifting into pure panic.

"Why you drink it?! I-It’s dirty," he blurted, as if you had just done something irreversible.

You blinked before bursting into laughter, swatting his hands away. "Oh my God, you're adorable."

Sunghoon groaned, covering his face as his ears turned even redder. You reached forward, grabbing his cheeks between your fingers, squeezing playfully.

"Seriously? Have you never watched porn before? I thought Korean guys were supposed to be wild." You teased, grinning.

Sunghoon gulped, his gaze flickering to your chest for a split second before meeting your eyes again. He nodded, shy yet honest.

You chuckled, shaking your head in disbelief. "Wait... was that your first time?"

He hesitated, then nodded again.

You stared at him before letting out another laugh, the realization making you grin. "No way."

Sunghoon huffed, pouting. "Stop laugh."

You only laughed harder, nudging him playfully. "No, no, it's just—damn, I feel honored."

His ears turned impossibly red, and he groaned again, burying his face in his hands.

"What have you even been doing with your life for this to be your first blowjob?!" you teased, laughter bubbling out of you.

Sunghoon just shook his head, fingers still covering his face, his embarrassment almost too much to handle. His reaction only made you laugh harder.

"Seriously, not even once?" you pressed, poking his side.

He mumbled something incoherent, but the way his ears burned was answer enough.

Amused, you sighed and moved closer, draping your arms around his shoulders from behind, pressing your chest lightly against his damp back. You leaned in, lips hovering just over the shell of his ear. "Do you not want to continue?"

Sunghoon stiffened instantly. His breath hitched, his whole body tensing at your words. Slowly, he turned his head to look at you, eyes wide and filled with eager. His gaze flickered downward, drawn to the droplets of water sliding down your collarbone and disappearing beneath the fabric of your oversized polo.

You smirked, watching his throat bob as he swallowed thickly.

Just when he parted his lips to respond, you burst into laughter, pulling back. "I'm kidding! No pressure, virgin boy!"

Sunghoon blinked, his expression shifting from anticipation to exasperation. "Y/N!" he groaned, throwing his head back.

You grinned mischievously. "What? You looked like you were about to pass out!"

He pouted, grumbling something about you being evil under his breath.

Still, you could see the way his hands twitched on his lap, how he stole quick glances at your legs, your lips—anywhere but your eyes. It made something stir inside you, something warm and thrilling.

"You're curious, aren't you?" you murmured, tilting your head.

Sunghoon hesitated before nodding, his gaze flickering to your mouth.

"Do you want me to teach you?" you asked, voice softer now, teasing.

He exhaled sharply, his fingers clenching against the rock he was sitting on. "Teach?"

You smirked, reaching for his wrist, guiding his hand to your waist. "Mhm. If you want to learn, you have to be hands-on."

Sunghoon's breath stuttered, but he didn't pull away. Instead, his grip tightened ever so slightly, his thumb hesitantly tracing over your damp skin.

Your heart raced as you leaned in closer, voice barely above a whisper. "Do you want me, Sunghoon?"

His fingers tightened around your waist, his grip both hesitant and desperate as he gave a small, breathless nod.

Back at your makeshift tent, the world around you faded, leaving only the sound of the waves lapping against the shore and the rustling of the fabric beneath you. Sitting on his lap, your fingers tangled in his damp hair, your lips molding against his in a kiss.

Sunghoon moaned softly against your mouth, his hands gripping your hips as you ground against him, his inexperience evident in the way his lips moved— so hungry, so desperate.

The warmth of his breath mingled with yours as his tongue hesitantly met yours, a shiver running through his body at the sensation.

His kisses were messy, teeth clashing at first, but you guided him, deepening the kiss until he melted into you, his breath hitching every time your hips moved against his.

You tugged at his hair, forcing his head back, and he let out a quiet whine, his lips parting slightly, eyes half-lidded as he gazed up at you. He was completely under your control, chest rising and falling rapidly.

When he tried to chase your lips again, you tugged harder, making him gasp. The sound sent a thrill straight to your core.

"Impatient, aren't you?" you teased,

Sunghoon swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing as his fingers twitched against your waist. His lips, swollen from your heated kisses, remained slightly open, as if he wanted to respond but couldn't find the words.

You rolled your hips slowly, grinding against the hardness straining beneath his shorts. The friction makes him exhaled sharply, his grip tightening as his fingers dug into your flesh.

His hands moved on instinct, sliding up your torso, fingers trembling slightly as they reached the hem of your oversized polo. He hesitated for just a second before tugging it up, his breath hitching as you lifted your arms, letting the fabric slip off your body.

You flipped your hair over your shoulder, your eyes locked on his as you reached for his hand, guiding it to your chest. A sharp inhale escaped him the moment his palm met the soft swell of your breast, his thumb instinctively pressing against the lace of your bra.

"Fuck, touch me more." You sighed, closing your eyes as you rolled your hips again, the sensation making heat coil low in your stomach.

Sunghoon's breathing grew heavier, his thumb flicked over your nipple through the thin fabric, the light pressure making you lightheaded. A small moan escaped your lips, and the sound seemed to unravel something inside him.

He whined softly, His other hand reached behind you, fumbling with your bra strap before tugging at it. His touch was eager, his fingers brushing against your skin as he finally let the lace fall away.

You gasped as the cool air kissed your exposed skin, but the warmth of his palms quickly replaced it. His fingers traced over your bare nipple before giving an experimental flick, watching your reaction with fascinated intensity.

You bit your lip, arching into his touch, your nails digging into his shoulders. Sunghoon groaned, his eyes flickering between your face and your chest, drinking in the sight of you.

His other hand found your waist again, pulling you flush against him. "Y/N..." he breathed, his voice barely above a whisper.

You cupped his face, guiding him closer until his lips hovered just above your chest. "Suck it, Hoon," you whispered.

His breath fanned across your skin before his lips finally closed around your peak, his tongue swirled experimentally, tasting, savoring, his grip on you tightened. Your fingers threaded through his damp hair, tugging slightly, earning a low groan from him.

His free hand found your other breast, kneading it gently making your head tilting back in pleasure.

You pushed him gently, guiding him to lay back against the blanket. His dark eyes stayed locked onto yours, filled with anticipation.

"Want more," he whispered, his voice breathless, his hands already reaching for you.

"Shhh," you soothed, leaning down to brush your lips against his, letting them linger, teasing. "I'll give you more."

Your fingers traced down your body, grazing your heated skin until they reached the slick warmth between your thighs. Sunghoon's gaze followed your every movement, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed hard.

"You want to please me?" you murmured, and he nodded eagerly.

Taking his hand, you guided him, his fingers trembling slightly as they brushed against you. "Slip a finger inside," you instructed, voice barely above a whisper.

The moment he obeyed, you gasped, your body clenching around the unfamiliar but electrifying sensation. His fingers were long, slender, exploring you.

Sunghoon's brows furrowed in concentration, his lips slightly parted as he watched your reaction.

The need pooling inside you intensified. "Add another," you breathed, your nails digging lightly into his wrist.

He hesitated for only a second before sliding another finger inside. The stretch made your thighs quiver, and your hips instinctively rolled against his hand. He let out a shaky breath, eyes flickering between where his fingers were buried in you and the way your lips parted in pleasure.

"You feel..." He exhaled deeply.

"You're doing so well," you whispered, your hand cupping his cheek as he leaned into your touch. Encouraged, he moved his fingers, slowly at first, then faster, finding a rhythm that made your back arch and your breath hitch.

Then, without warning, he curled them. A sharp cry left your lips, your body jolting as he unknowingly pressed against the very spongy spot that sent sparks of pleasure shooting through you.

Sunghoon's lips brushed against your chest again, his tongue flicking over your areola as his fingers moves. "Good?" he asked.

"Yes," you gasped, gripping onto his shoulders. "So good."

His eyes darkened, his cock strained against his shorts, He wanted to hear that again. To make you tremble, to pull more of those breathy, needy sounds from you.

"Can you go faster?" you begged, voice breaking slightly. "Please, Hoon."

The sound of his name on your lips, so sweet and hungry for more, sent something wild through him. He obeyed, fingers working you with increasing intensity, his own breathing ragged as he watched you unravel beneath his touch.

Sunghoon was completely focused on you now—his fingers moving faster, deeper,

Your hips rocked against his fingers, chasing the pleasure that built inside you. His jaw clenched in concentration as he adjusted his rhythm, curling his fingers just right, watching as your body reacted to every movement.

"Sunghoon," you whimpered, nails digging into his arm. "I—I'm close."

His lips parted slightly, chest rising and falling with heavy breaths. "Close?" he repeated, his voice almost reverent, as if he couldn't believe he was making you feel this way.

You nodded frantically, grinding against his palm, your body wound so tightly you thought you might snap. Sunghoon's free hand skimmed up your waist, his thumb grazing your hardened nipple, making you arch your back. His fingers inside you never slowed, working you open with a hunger he didn't even know he had in him.

"Gonna cum, gonna — fuck, please!"

A cry tore from your lips as pleasure crashed over you, your body trembling violently as you came around his fingers. Sunghoon froze for a moment, mesmerized, his breath hitching as he felt you clench and pulse around his finger.

"Fuck," you gasped, body going lax against him as aftershocks rippled through you. Your thighs trembled as he slowly withdrew his fingers, watching the way they glistened with your release. His ears burned red, his lips slightly parted in awe.

His jaw clenched, and he swallowed hard when you pushed him back down against the blanket.

"Y/N," he rasped, his hands settling on your waist.

"Hmm?" You hummed in response, lips trailing down the sharp line of his jaw, teasing him with the lightest brush of your tongue.

"I—" He bit his lip, eyes blown wide. "I need you."

You smiled, pressing your forehead against his. "Then let me take care of you."

Slowly, teasingly, your fingers trailed down his stomach, dipping beneath the waistband of his shorts. His breath hitched, his muscles tensing in anticipation.

"Relax, Hoon," you whispered, placing a soft kiss on his lips before finally slipping your hand lower.

Your fingers trailed lower, slipping beneath the waistband of his shorts. You took your time, watching him, memorizing every expression—the way his brows furrowed, the way his lips parted in silent moans, the way his throat bobbed with every swallowed gasp.

Growing impatient, Sunghoon lifted his hips, helping you slide his shorts down. Your eyes drank in the sight of him, flushed and aching, his body taut with need. You slowly straddled him, rolling your hips teasingly, feeling the heat of his arousal press against you. A soft moan slipped past your lips at the friction, pleasure sparking up to your clit.

Sunghoon's breath grew heavier, his hands gripping your hips, thumbs rubbing slow, soothing circles on your skin.

You repeated the motion, grinding against him, your body craving more. Slowly, you reached between you, guiding him to your entrance.

The moment he pressed inside, a sharp gasp left your lips, your brows knitting together at the stretch. Sunghoon choked on a moan, his fingers digging into your skin as he watched, mesmerized, the way your body took him in.

"Fuck," you breathed, adjusting to the fullness. "You're fucking big."

His jaw clenched at your words, his grip on your waist tightening as he fought the urge to thrust up into you.

With a deep breath, you sank down further, finally seating yourself fully. The feeling stole the air from your lungs, your thighs trembling from the stretch. Sunghoon threw his head back, a guttural moan escaping him, the feeling of being buried inside you unlike anything he'd ever felt before.

His hands found yours, fingers intertwining, making your heart flutter.

With a steady grip on his hands, you slowly rolled your hips, testing the movement, feeling every inch of him inside you. A sharp exhale left his lips, his eyes locked onto where your bodies were joined. The sight alone had his cock twitching inside you.

"A-ah," You lifted your hips, feeling the drag of him leaving you before sinking back down.

His grip on your hands tightened, his jaw slack as a breathy moan escaped him.

"Breathe, baby," you coaxed, moving against him, setting a slow but deliberate rhythm.

Sunghoon released a shaky breath, his lidded eyes drinking in the way you moved, the way your body reacted to him. His head fell back against the blanket, pleasure written all over his face as he let himself get lost in the sensation.

You clenched around him, drawing a deep groan from his throat. His hips bucked up instinctively, meeting your movements, pushing deeper inside you.

His name fell from your lips, your body arching as the pleasure intensified. "Sunghoon—!"

The sound of your moans only pushed him further. His restraint snapped.

In one swift motion, he sat up, arms wrapping around you, pressing your body flush against his. His hands gripped your ass, lifting you only to bring you down again, fucking up into you with deep, slow thrusts. It was messy but so damn good.

You gasped, nails raking down his back as he took control, his movements are needy. The sounds of skin against skin filled the air, the slick heat between you driving you both closer to the edge.

His lips found your chest again, tongue swirling around a hardened peak before sucking harshly. The sensation sent a jolt of pleasure making your walls clenching around him.

"Shit," you whimpered, your voice breaking as you reached between your legs, fingers rubbing quick circles against your clit.

Sunghoon groaned at the sight, his hips snapping up faster, his cock throbbing inside you.

"Sunghoon, fuck! Slow down!" Your body trembled, pleasure coiling tighter and tighter. His name spilled from your lips in breathless moans, your body arching against him as the heat built to an unbearable peak.

His grip on you tightened, his thrusts turning erratic. Your nails dug into his shoulders, your entire body tensing as the coil inside you finally snapped.

A sharp cry tore from your throat as your orgasm crashed over you, waves of pleasure washing through every nerve in your body. Your walls clenched down around him, pulling him deeper, milking him for everything he had.

Sunghoon's head dropping to your shoulder as his hips jerked one final time. A deep, broken moan escaped him as he came, his cock twitching violently, spilling hot inside you.

Your bodies remained tangled together, your breathing heavy, hearts still pounding. Neither of you spoke, both lost in the lingering haze of pleasure, wrapped in the warmth of each other's presence.

You lifted your head, brushing a gentle kiss against Sunghoon's lips.

"You okay?" you murmured, running your fingers through his damp hair.

His hooded eyes flickered open briefly, a lazy, satisfied smile tugging at his lips before he let out a breath and sank back against the blanket, pulling you down with him.

His arms instinctively wrapped around you, his body still nestled intimately against yours. His breathing slowed, becoming softer, steadier—and before long, you heard the quiet, rhythmic sound of his snores.

You almost rolled your eyes, a small smile playing on your lips as you stayed still for a few moments, listening to the gentle lull of the waves. But when you finally moved, a sharp hiss left your lips, your body still sensitive, his warmth slipping from you. You took a deep breath, carefully fixing yourself, deciding against your panties as you could still feel his release trickling down your thighs. Instead, you tugged his shorts back onto him before settling down beside him again.

Lying there, you watched him, your gaze softening. His face was peaceful in sleep, lips slightly parted, chest rising and falling in a slow, steady rhythm. Without thinking, you reached out, brushing a few stray strands of hair from his forehead.

You grabbed an extra piece of clothing from the bag you had organized earlier, using it as a blanket to cover both of you. As you pulled it over your bodies, Sunghoon stirred, shifting in his sleep before instinctively wrapping his arms around you. He nuzzled his face into your chest, his warmth seeping into you.

A soft sigh left your lips, your eyes fluttering shut as sleep finally claimed you.

The warmth of the sun stirred you awake, but as soon as you shifted, you noticed something was off. The weight of Sunghoon beside you was gone.

Your brows furrowed as your fingers brushed over the blanket, still faintly warm from where he had been. Blinking the sleep from your eyes, you sat up, pushing your hair back as you looked around.

Where is he?

You stepped out of the tent, stretching as your gaze drifted toward the shoreline—only for your breath to catch in your throat.

Out in the open water, Sunghoon was swimming. Not just floating near the shore, but deep in the sea, diving and resurfacing.

Your mouth fell open slightly.

"Sunghoon, what the fuck are you doing?!" you called out, hands cupped around your mouth.

It took him a moment, but soon enough, he began paddling back toward the shore, something bobbing alongside him in the water. Squinting, you saw him dragging a plastic bucket and a makeshift wooden spear with the knife you had improvised.

Your eyes widened in disbelief as he reached the surface, standing up and shaking the water from his hair like an excited kid.

"What the hell—" you gasped, rushing toward him as he made his way up the sand.

As soon as you reached him, your hands flew to his face. His skin was flushed red from the sun and the saltwater, his eyes slightly bloodshot, but his expression was nothing short of triumphant.

Your gaze dropped to the bucket he was holding—and your jaw nearly hit the floor. Inside were several freshly caught fish, and even a lobster.

He grinned at you, voice still breathless as he murmured, "Food to eat."

Your heart squeezed at the sight of him, standing there, drenched and sun-kissed, smiling at you like this was the most natural thing in the world.

"Y-You didn't have to do that!" you scolded, concern laced in your tone as you quickly pulled him under the shade. Dropping the bucket, you made him sit down, inspecting his skin. "Look at you, you're so red! Does it hurt? Is it itchy?"

Sunghoon chuckled, shaking his head. "I'm fine," he assured, though his voice was softer now, almost sheepish.

You frowned, lightly brushing your fingers over his sun-kissed shoulders, worried despite his reassurances.

"Idiot," you muttered under your breath, but your touch was gentle, tracing over the marks left by the sun and sea.

Sunghoon just smiled at you, watching you fuss over him. "Worry too much," he whispered, and before you could scold him again, he caught your wrist, pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles.

Your breath hitched, warmth creeping up your cheeks at the unexpected tenderness. "L-Let's just cook and eat!" you stammered, quickly changing the subject.

The two of you sat by the bonfire, watching the flames flicker as the fish slowly cooked over the open fire.

Then, without warning, Sunghoon reached for your hand again, his fingers lacing hesitantly with yours.

You turned to him, startled. "What—"

"Feel good. Did it feel good for you too?" he blurted out, his voice quiet but serious.

Your lips parted in surprise before a small laugh escaped you. His bluntness, paired with the slight flush creeping up his ears, was almost too endearing.

"Of course, I had a good time! You're a natural—are you sure you were a virgin?!" you teased, nudging him playfully.

His face turned impossibly red. He opened his mouth, seemingly struggling for words, before blurting out, "I-I should marry you."

Your laughter died instantly. You blinked at him, stunned. "What?"

Sunghoon met your eyes, completely earnest. "I should marry you," he repeated, as if that was the most obvious conclusion to what had happened between you.

Panic flared in your chest, and you waved your hands in front of you. "No! No, it's not necessary!"

He frowned. "But—"

"Sunghoon, you don't have to marry someone just because you had sex with them." You exhaled, trying to gather your thoughts. "That's not how it works. So stop thinking about marriage, okay? Don't pressure yourself. We're on this island, not in Korea. No rules, no expectations."

His frown deepened. "You don't want to marry me?"

Your mouth opened, but nothing came out at first. You hadn't expected him to take it that way.

"It's not that," you started carefully, searching for the right words. "Marriage is a big step, Sunghoon. It's not something you do just because of one night. You have to really love someone, commit to them fully. In your case, you're already being forced to marry someone you don't love, right?"

His jaw tightened, and he looked away, silent.

You sighed, reaching up to brush a few damp strands of hair from his forehead. "What we had... it was fun, right? But it doesn't have to mean anything more than that. Don't overthink it, okay?"

Sunghoon didn't respond immediately. His eyes stayed fixed on the fire. You could see the conflict in his expression—the way his fingers tightened slightly around yours before he pulled his hand away.

"I see," he finally muttered, his voice quieter now.

The shift in his demeanor made your chest tighten.

The two of you ate in silence. Your eyes flickered to Sunghoon every few moments, watching the way he quietly picked at his food, his usual energy replaced by something.

It felt... unfamiliar. Uncomfortable.

Then, to your surprise, he picked up a small piece of lobster and placed it gently in your palm. You blinked at the bright orange meat, then at him. "Oh... thank you."

He only gave a small nod before returning to his meal.

You chewed slowly, watching as he silently reached for his shirt, pulling it over his head before standing up. Without a word, he grabbed one of the coconuts he had gathered earlier and began cracking it open.

Once split, he handed you half and then walked away, his footsteps barely making a sound against the soft sand.

Your stomach twisted as you watched him settle near the shoreline, his back to you, eyes fixed on the sea. He idly ran his fingers through the sand, but his posture remained stiff, shoulders tense.

Sunghoon wasn't the type to sulk—at least, not from what you had seen of him. His usual carefree nature was nowhere to be found, and you couldn't shake the feeling that your words had somehow hurt him more than you realized.

You hesitated, debating whether to give him space or approach him.

But the way he sat there, quiet and withdrawn, made your decision for you.

Taking a breath, you stood up and walked toward him. The sand was warm beneath your bare feet as you settled beside him.

At your presence, his hand momentarily stiffened in the sand, but he didn't pull away. Instead, he continued absentmindedly tracing patterns, his fingers digging and smoothing the grains in a rhythmic motion.

For a moment, you just sat there, letting the waves fill the silence. Then, softly, you spoke.

"Sunghoon... I think I upset you."

His jaw tightened slightly, but he remained silent.

You sighed, wrapping your arms around your knees. "I wasn't trying to dismiss you or make you feel like what we shared didn't matter. It's just... marriage is something huge. It's not something you decide overnight."

His fingers stopped moving.

Encouraged, you continued. "You said you're being forced to marry someone, right? And you don't want that, because you don't love them. So shouldn't you marry for love, not obligation?"

Sunghoon's fingers dug into the sand, his gaze still fixed on the waves. "You don't want to marry me," he said quietly.

His words caught you off guard. "No, Sunghoon, I—I didn't mean it like that..." You open your mouth trying to find a word to say.

You struggled to find the right words, but before you could, he spoke again, his voice trembling.

"I want to marry you."

Your breath hitched.

"You pretty, you kind always to me, angry but still kind. You is funny, y-you -" His voice was small, then, suddenly, his face crumpled. His breath hitched, and before you could react, a string of hurried Korean words spilled from his lips, his voice cracking as his shoulders trembled.

"If I go back, I won't be able to marry you. Then I don't want to go back. I want to be here with you!"

"Sunghoon—" you whispered, reaching for him, but he dropped his face into his hands, his shoulders shaking violently.

Tears welled up in your own eyes as frustration gnawed at your chest. You hated this. Hated how lost you felt, how you couldn't fully grasp what he was feeling.

"I'd rather fight a hundred coconut crabs than go back. I know it's selfish, but I don't want to leave. If going back means losing you, I'd rather stay here with you forever."

You wanted to understand every word, every thought racing through his mind. But all you could do was watch as he cried, his sobs muffled against his palms.

You bit your lip hard, fighting back the sting in your own eyes before moving closer, wrapping your arms around him. He didn't hesitate—his fingers curling into the fabric of your shirt as he buried his face into your chest, shaking.

You rested your chin atop his head, running your fingers through his hair.

"I'm sorry," you whispered. "I didn't mean to upset you. I just think... marriage is a big decision, Sunghoon. It's not something you should rush."

He stiffened slightly, but you held him closer.

"I like you too," you admitted, rubbing small circles against his back. "But we're on this island, just the two of us. It's easy to feel like this is all that matters, but we need time. When we go back, we'll experience so many things together. And if, after a year, you still feel this way... if you still want me, if we're both sure, then you can propose. And I'll say yes."

Sunghoon's breath hitched. Slowly, he pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes red-rimmed, cheeks tear-streaked. His lips trembled as he swallowed hard.

"Really?" His voice was raspy from crying.

Your heart clenched at the sight of him—so vulnerable, so sincere. You cupped his face, thumbs gently wiping away the wetness on his cheeks.

Smiling softly, you whispered, "If you treat me right, then of course, I'll marry you."

His lips parted slightly, a flicker of something hopeful shining through his sadness. Then, without warning, he pulled you into another embrace, holding you.

You and Sunghoon grew even closer as the days passed. You loved the way he smiled—how his lips curled just before he laughed. The way his voice softened when he spoke your name. The way he held you close at night, arms wrapped tightly around you.

You adored the way he stubbornly dived into the ocean for hours, determined to catch fish, even when you told him not to.

And you loved the way he spent long, lingering moments between your legs.

"Just like that," you gasped, your back arching as your fingers tangled into his hair, pulling him closer. His tongue worked you experimentally, exploring your wet pussy with slow, deliberate strokes.

Sunghoon groaned against you, hands gripped your thighs, holding you in place as his mouth latched onto your clit, sucking with just the right pressure.

His soft eyes flickered up to yours, watching your every reaction. "Good?" he murmured between licks.

You couldn't even speak—only nodding frantically, tugging him back to your core in silent plea. He chuckled softly before burying himself deeper, his tongue slipping inside you, sending you over the edge with a loud cry of his name.

The following days were spent exploring the island together, finding food, and encountering the wild creatures.

You'd both seen more insects than you cared to count, and even had a close call with a snake.

Sunghoon had frozen in place, legs visibly shaking, though he tried his best to look brave. You fought back a smile, resisting the urge to tease him.

"Shh, don't panic," you whispered, your voice steady. "It won't attack if we don't bother it."

Sunghoon swallowed hard, nodding stiffly as you both carefully walked past, keeping your eyes locked on the snake.

It wasn't long before island life became second nature to you. You stopped bothering with shorts most days, wandering the jungle in just your underwear and a loose shirt.

Sunghoon followed you closely, his eyes glued to the sway of your hips, the curve of your thighs and the way your ass bounced with every step.

And somehow, it always ended like this—your hands gripping the rough bark of a tree, his body pressed flush against yours, his breath hot against the back of your neck as he took you from behind.

"You're really into this, huh?" You half-laughed, half-moaned, feeling the way he filled you so perfectly.

Sunghoon groaned in response, too lost in the pleasure to form words. His hands slid up your body, cupping your breasts, rolling your nipples between his fingers before kneading them roughly. The sensation make you moan, making your legs tremble.

Before you could even process it, your feet were off the ground. He lifted you effortlessly, holding you in place, still thrusting deep inside you.

Your head fell back against his shoulder as he angled himself just right—hitting that spot that made you see stars. "Oh my God—"

The way he learned your body in just weeks had you unraveling faster than expected. One of his hands found your clit, fingers circling it in tight, fast motions, making your entire body shudder. Your release came hard and sudden, ripping through you.

"S-Sunghoon!" You sobbed, your walls tightening around him.

His grip on you tightened as he pushed deeper, his own pleasure following right behind yours. He groaned into your skin, biting down on your shoulder as his release spilled inside you, warm and thick. The sensation had you rolling your eyes back, utterly wrecked in his arms.

Later, as the sun dipped beneath the horizon, the sky bathed in orange and pink hues, the two of you stood by the shore. The gentle waves lapped at your feet, the salty breeze cooling your flushed skin.

You sat behind Sunghoon, your arms draped over his broad shoulders, chin resting atop his head as you both gazed at the endless sea.

"No way, you want a chicken as a pet?" you teased, a smile tugging at your lips.

Sunghoon faintly smiled, his hand reaching up to rest over yours. He nodded.

"I will cook it, though," you added playfully.

His head snapped toward you, brows furrowing in instant offense.

"No. Chicken pet. Not food." He pouted.

You burst into laughter at his reaction, the sight of his serious expression making it even funnier. Unable to resist, you leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. "Why do you want a chicken in the first place? It's not exactly an ideal pet in the city."

He hesitated, his lips parting slightly before he finally muttered, "Chicken is cute."

Your laughter bubbled up again as you wrapped your arms around him. "You're cute," you teased, nuzzling against his shoulder.

Sunghoon only huffed, but his ears turned pink.

Three weeks. Twenty-three days.

That's how long you had been stranded on this island.

What was supposed to be a luxurious cruise had turned into a nightmare when the shipwreck left you here, alone—until you met Sunghoon. And somehow, against all odds, he had turned this disaster into something that didn't feel entirely like a curse. If anything, meeting him felt like a blessing.

But right now, as your stomach churned violently and a wave of nausea overtook you, the island didn't feel so forgiving.

You sat by the fire, watching Sunghoon prepare food when dizziness suddenly washed over you. Your throat tightened, and your vision blurred at the edges. You swallowed thickly, willing the sensation away, but it was no use.

Sunghoon noticed immediately. His head snapped up, his sharp gaze locking onto your face. "Are you okay?" He asked, his voice laced with concern as he reached for you.

You waved him off weakly, attempting a reassuring smile. "I'm fine—"

The words barely left your lips before your stomach lurched. You barely had time to turn away before you were on your knees, retching into the sand.

Sunghoon was by your side in an instant. "Hey—hey!" His hands found your hair, holding it back as he rubbed soothing circles against your back.

You coughed, wiping at your mouth, but the nausea didn't subside. Your head felt light, your limbs weak as you slumped against his chest.

His arms encircled you immediately, holding you up as panic flickered across his face. "You sick," he murmured, pressing the back of his hand to your forehead. "Sweat cold."

You took a shaky breath, trying to calm both yourself and him. "I just need to rest a little. Maybe it's just the heat."

Sunghoon wasn't convinced. His grip on you tightened, his jaw clenching as he scanned your pale face. "No. It's not normal."

Despite the warmth of your body, an unbearable chill crept through you, making you shiver uncontrollably. Sunghoon noticed immediately. Without hesitation, he wrapped every piece of salvaged clothing around you, pulling you into his arms.

His embrace was gentle, his hands rubbing soothing circles along your back. Your hot breath fanned against his neck, your weak fingers curling into his shirt as you tried to fight the cold that had settled deep into your bones. Sunghoon held you tighter, pressing his cheek against your forehead, silently praying that whatever was making you sick would pass.

But it didn't. Days passed, and Sunghoon felt he was about to go insane.

He watched helplessly as your condition worsened—you barely ate, spending most of your time curled up in the tent, too weak to move. The once-bright light in your eyes dimmed, and your skin had turned ghostly pale.

He tried everything. He brought you fresh coconut water, hoping it would help. He caught fish, even managed to cook them better so you wouldn't be disgusted by the taste. But no matter what he did, you barely managed a few bites before the nausea overwhelmed you again.

And at night, when he cradled you in his arms, whispering soft words of comfort, you barely responded. It was driving him insane.

One evening, after putting you to sleep, Sunghoon stepped out of the tent, walking toward the shore. His fists clenched, his chest rising and falling with ragged breaths. There was no medical kit. No medicine. No doctors.

Tears welled in his eyes, his frustration boiling over as he stared at the ocean. The only thing keeping him sane was you, and now, he was watching you waste away before his very own eyes.

He wiped at his face roughly, inhaling a shaky breath before turning back to the tent. He couldn't afford to fall apart.

"A sushi would be nice," you whispered weakly against Sunghoon's ear, your voice barely above a breath.

His arms tightened around you, he cradled you closer to his chest. He looked down at you, his heart sinking at the sight of your pale face, your lips trembling despite the warmth he tried so desperately to give you. Even now, sick and barely able to keep your eyes open, you still smiled at him.

"You're so nice, Sunghoon," you murmured, your fingers grazing his jaw. "You're so handsome, I love your smile... your personality... I love everything about you."

His throat tightened. He forced a small smile, resting his forehead against yours. "You pretty always."

Your only response was a soft sigh as you curled deeper into his embrace, eyes fluttering shut.

That night, your condition worsened.

Your shivering became violent, your body burning up. Sunghoon held you as tightly as he could without hurting you, rubbing your back, whispering reassurances.

"Shhh, it's okay... " Sunghoon whispers to your ear, hands on your back when he saw something passed through. A white circle light.

Sunghoon's breath hitched as a bright beam cut through the darkness, flashing across the tent. He blinked, his heart pounding in his chest as realization dawned.

A boat not too far away from them.

Without hesitation, he gathered you in his arms and stumbled out of the tent, feet sinking into the cool sand. His eyes locked onto the distant vessel, a boat approaching from the far side of the ocean.

"Help!" he screamed, desperation lacing his voice. “Please, help us!"

He ran closer to the shore, his breathing erratic, his arms tightening around you. The boat turned, its engine roaring as it made its way toward the island.

Relief crashed over him in waves, but it was short-lived. He looked down at you—your body limp in his arms, your face ghostly pale. His heart clenched painfully.

"Wake up," he whispered, patting your cheek gently. "Wake up, please."

But you didn't stir. Panic surged through him as the boat finally reached the shore, figures jumping onto the sand, rushing toward him.

"Help!" Sunghoon choked out, tears stinging his eyes. "Please, her... she's sick."

An older man knelt beside him, his fingers pressing against your wrist. His expression turned grave. "Her pulse is weak. We need to get her to a hospital—fast."

Strong hands reached for you, lifting you carefully from Sunghoon's arms. He stumbled forward, unwilling to let go, but someone held him back.

"What are you doing in this island?" one of the crew members asked. Sunghoon barely heard the question. His gaze remained fixed on your unconscious form as they carried you onto the boat. His fingers clenched into fists, his heart hammering against his ribs.

As the reality of the moment set in, a new kind of fear settled deep in his chest.

They were going back. Back to his old life. Going back.

Sunghoon clenched his jaw, stepping onto the boat without hesitation. His grip on your hand tightened. He stared at your pale face, the slow rise and fall of your chest the only reassurance that you were still holding on. He swallowed hard, his heart hammering painfully against his ribs.

Closing his eyes, he sent a silent prayer into the vast, open sea. Whatever happened next—whatever fate awaited him back in the real world—none of it mattered as long as you were safe.

His family could try to pull him away, society could try to dictate his future, but his body, heart, and soul had already been claimed. They belonged to you. Only you.

perm taglist: @won4me @ikaw-at-ikaw, @kristynaaah, @fancypeacepersona @tunafishyfishylike @vvenusoncasual @arclviie

#enhypen fic #enhypen #enhypen fanfic #park sunghoon fanfic #park sunghoon x reader #sunghoon imagines #sunghoon #sunghoon x reader #park sunghoon

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keepthedelta · 7 months ago

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what would you consider Rosberg's best race? (wanna hear people wax poetic about their special interest)

it's going to be a list because i am weird about nico

singapore 2016. an absolutely dominate weekend for him, fastest in every single session, outqualified lewis by 7 tenths (and danny ric by 6) setting what was (at the time) a track record. spent the entire race managing brake and engine issues, got screwed over by merc strategy when they were trying to get lewis back onto the podium after he got overtaken by kimi, had to make his tyres last an extra 20 laps with danny ric chasing him down 2-4 seconds a lap faster than him. won the race and then posted a slutty shirtless photo of him being cooled down by a fan in what could be considered the ancestor of the ice bath videos that teams post now.

canada 2014. a real contender for my favourite ever nico race even though he didn't win. both merc cars had mgu-h failure about 20-30 laps in thereby losing half of their power. nico switched brake bias to the front brakes so that less strain would be put on the rear brakes because on the lack of power and potential overheating. about five laps later lewis dnfs with rear brake failure. nico should have been overtaken by just about everybody, but instead he spends the next 30 laps using all of his power and speed in one specific sector (the one with the drs detection point) so that checo (now in second) is too far behind to get drs, and then, even though nico's car is barely alive for the rest of the lap, he can never overtake him. it literally took checo's car breaking down and allowing danny ric (now driving the best car in the field) for nico to lose the win. the mechanical masterclass of modern f1 (and yes it might not have worked at another track or i f someone other than checo had been in second, but i firmly believe that the lowest nico could have ever come given the circumstances was third) and it is not appreciated enough.

china 2012. i rewatched this recently and literally no one believed that nico was going to win until about five laps before the end. he was driving one of the world's shittiest mercs (i promise every single merc pre-2013 was worse than any car since then), got pole by half a second, got a perfect start, flawless tyre management, cruised to victory while everyone else was fighting for their lives behind him (the battle for second was absolutely insane, and nico was just minding his own business about 15 seconds ahead of them all).

singapore 2008. crashgate has entered the building. back then cars refuelled during the race and so another factor in the strategies was fuel load. nico and a number of others were running low initial fuel loads, so they would have to stop relatively early. except, just before they were going to stop, nelson piquet jr binned it into the wall (on purpose) and the stewards closed the pitlane for safety reasons. however, nico and the others on similar strategies needed to refuel so they had to enter the pitlane anyway which earned them a stop and go penalty which had to be served within three laps. nico did those laps as fast as he possibly could, meaning that after he served his penalty he only lost a handful of places (i think 3). robert kubica who also took a stop and go penalty on the exact same lap for the exact same reason (and was in a better car) lost far more places and i don't think he even finished in the points. nico spent the rest of the race rising up the field and finished second only to fernando (who got there by cheating) with lewis in a distant third (tbf i don't think he needed to try that hard by the end as he got a massive points gain over felipe massa his championship competition due to the ferrari pitlane incident).

malaysia 2016. casuals will tell you that this is the race where lewis lost the championship because of his dnf (and if you're a lh hater i recommend watching it because the level of conspiracy that emerges from lewis and sky sports is genuinely quite funny) but i think that's very misleading. in the very first turn seb crashed into nico, spinning him around and leaving him in dead last by the end of the first lap. nico fought through the field, pulled off a rallycross overtake on kimi, got a penalty for it, and was already sitting in fourth when lewis's engine blew up. he then pulled a ten second gap over kimi so that he kept his podium place, got danny ric to make max do a shoey, nearly threw up when he did one himself, told a room full of reporters that he didn't want danny ric to win another race (that year) and filmed one of the funniest ever post-race vlogs where he fidgeted with the neckline of his t-shirt while describing how seb had apologised to him for the crash and that was nice but it didn't get him any points back. truly iconic.

there is definitely a running theme in these choices i think. mostly that i think nico was at his best when he was fighting against the potential capabilities of the car/circuit/circumstances rather than other drivers 🤷🏿‍♀️

#this got quite long sorry anon #you said you liked people rambling about their special interests and i have very strong opinions on nico #asks #anon

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violetstormms · 2 years ago

Text

FNAF Sun/Moon x Reader MerMay Fics

MerMay DCA x yn fic list

With Mermay coming to a close I decide to make a list of all the fun fish filled fics I have found so far. Remember to look at the tags and read at your own discretion.

Call of the Abyss by Buligete

archiveofourown.org/works/41191230/chapters/103261704

It was probably all very silly, considering the precarious situation I found myself in, but it really was all I could think about.

Could you really blame me? I never expected to find myself in this kind of a mess. I was not some big shot, thrill seeking space explorer. I was no seasoned freight worker. No avid alien world survivalist. Not even a simple cruise liner flight attendant.

I was a gardener. My feet belonged firmly planted in the soil of a garden world. I had spent my entire life up to now solidly anchored on Earth, and never dreaming of leaving the safety of gravity and atmosphere, despite the increasingly uncomfortable quality of life on the crowded homeworld. Sure, I dreamed of greener pastures. Of fresh air and fertile land. But frontier life and adventures in the big expanse of space? Not quite.

---

A FNAF x Subnautica crossover, about the challenges of survival, surprise friendships with quirky software and alien merfolk, man made horrors beyond our comprehension and unexpected mysteries to be uncovered within the depths.

Below The Surface by Justaduck6432

archiveofourown.org/works/46186750/chapters/116275786#workskin

You aren't what people would call friendly. No. You're not even polite. Much like the salty old sailor who raised you, you're short-tempered and not too social. And that's how you like it.

One day, a dirty-rotten fish steals something important to you. You know better than to tangle with a creature so large and dangerous. But you have little to lose and, by the gods, you're not about to let that smug fish keep what's yours.

Dive into this chaotic tale of merciless mers and our hot-headed protag who has to wrangle them!

Growing Pains by Celticwolfie

archiveofourown.org/works/46891666/chapters/118117984

It was going to be a normal fishing trip. Just a normal hike to the secluded river beach and maybe relax while listening to the forest waking up around you. However, that isn't how things go for you and now you managed to gain the attention of a legendary creature. Now everything seems to be turned on its head. Hopefully, you can adapt to it quickly enough and help these living legends out as their world is starting to shrink around them.

Free Space by omenofthevoid

archiveofourown.org/works/46904299/chapters/118150342

As a Leviathan, you aren't meant for the shallow water which inhibits your growth and keeps you small. You finally move to the Dead Zone, where you hope to be able to grow.

Galaxies, Lost in Ice by StarvingMe

archiveofourown.org/works/45778489/chapters/115203013

(Subnautica/Subnautica: Below Zero AU)

Sun went hunting, and he's been gone for a few days, and so it's up to Moon to drag Sun's Human Scientist Best Friend out into the ocean to find him.

(Leads into romance with aliens, no spice, that'll be a separate work that won't be necessary to enjoy this)

Abyssal Lights by PhoenixDaNeko

archiveofourown.org/works/46600771/chapters/117353191

You used to be powerful. Feared. Vicious. A man-killer. You were one of the most fearsome myths in the sea.

Then, despite everything, you were caught. Stolen from the depths of your home. Your older siblings had always cautioned against going too close to the surface. You wished you'd listened. Captured, placed into barely big enough tanks, traded between rich bastards and unethical scientists. Losing weight, power, sanity, you're beginning to give up, when a mysterious 4 armed... Person (?) comes by.

Who is this metal man, and why is he so interested in you?

My Lungs are Full of You by Xmimi89eR

archiveofourown.org/works/47111743/chapters/118694248

You didn't like the ocean.

The water felt like it would burn (and it does). Your lungs would give out sooner than others and you didn't even know how to swim!

You never asked for this trip, never asked to be here. Yet, here you are, stuck all alone and waiting for rescue that probably would never come.

Or, well, not really alone. The burning gaze of something in the water wouldn't leave you alone.

There Are Many Benefits (To Rethinking This Career Path) by moonliched

archiveofourown.org/works/47449438/chapters/119573569#workskin

Life is cushy, working on a subterranean research facility on an underexplored ocean planet. As the resident handyman, most of your work takes place underwater - lucky for you, cave diving is your passion. With the building between bi-annual research teams, and the next lot yet to arrive, you find yourself with an excess of free time. All you have to do is fulfil your weekly duties, prepare the facility for the next team of researchers, and relax. Oh, and track down the net that went missing some time ago.

And then you find it.

In a submerged cave.

Trapping a mermaid.

You really wish this wasn't your responsibility.

(Moon thinks he should have listened to Sun and stuck to hunting in warmer waters. Why does this bizarre two-tailed mermaid keep coming at him with sharp instruments?)

Song of the Sea by TheDreamerFae

archiveofourown.org/works/38958630/chapters/97435890

You always loved the tales of Mermaids, of Selkies and of Sirens, of people who lived in the ocean as a child. You remember vividly seeing merfolk, but chalked it up your imagination. But then a boating accident with your grandpa had left you scarred, and you no longer wanted any association with the sea. But life has other plans

INSPIRED BY BAMSARA’S FIC god I love Celestial Omens.

Unusual by BlueMoon_13_31

archiveofourown.org/works/47008036/chapters/118422505

Your love for the ocean has sent you all around the world. However, the beaches of your coastal home have always been your favorite. Returning to the cloudy skies along the Pacific, the last thing you expected was to run into two creatures far from their natural habitat.

The Sea Has Always Known Your Name by CleverButDevastating

archiveofourown.org/works/47410663/chapters/119469997

Everyone is so caught up in your expulsion from the ship that they don’t see the pair of dark, sinuous shapes that slip up through the water only half a dozen yards away. No one notices the flashes of vivid yellow and luminous blue, or the intelligent eyes that take in the human spectacle with inhuman curiosity.

No one except you.

Clownfishing by Sujithe2DWaifu

archiveofourown.org/works/47314285/chapters/119220796

A night fishing trip lends itself to a chance encounter with a siren. After unknowingly showing it some kindness, your life is derailed in an extremely bizarre way.

Special thank you to Bug, who puts up with me, and Tobi(@Glambots on Tumblr)-This was originally a short story written in their ask box. While the first chapter will be short, they will get longer, just so you know what you're getting into. ;) Please also remember that I’m still learning and this is my first time posting on Ao3 specifically. I apologize in advance for any formatting issues.

Also warnings for this chapter and future chapters of thalassophobia, megalohydrothalassophobia, ososphobia, injury, body horror, animal death, offscreen minor character death, and something at bare minimum reminiscent of drugging. While these may be removed during the editing process as it currently stands these will apply at some point.

Turquoise Love by Wcat03blu

archiveofourown.org/works/47208670/chapters/118947625#workskin

You finally visit the aquarium by your college and fall absolutely head-over-heels for some celestial mermaids. Then you chill with them a lot :)

Leviathan Storms by TheDreamerFae

archiveofourown.org/works/47008924/chapters/118518967#workskin

Moving back to your old home rims has brought with you a sense of nostalgia of being. Sure most of the time it was cold and rainy but it didn’t make the scene any less beautiful. But a song keeps making itself known to you, and you must find it.

But who would’ve guessed Mers existed?

Bubbly by Robin_Green

archiveofourown.org/works/47513692/chapters/119741380

A little waterlily mer guppy is trapped, home destroyed, and taken to a pet store to be sold. After spending some time living in a fish bowl, our little guppy is saved and moved to a tank that has been dubbed the daycare by the human tending to it. The daycare tank is set up to rehabilitate fish before they are released back into their natural habitats. There our guppy meets Sun and Moon, two fish that live full time in this tank taking care their healing guests.

Sun and Moon and our guppy fall in love and then shit goes down.

Pearl Eye by NaffEclipse

archiveofourown.org/works/47400922

Movement. A mer swims overhead, speaking to someone, blocking out the starlight. The interloper lays a hand on the rim of the entrance but doesn’t look down just yet, and doesn’t see you, red-handed.

Your gut clenches with the urge to flee, your strength already spent in the fight moments earlier, and you heed the warning.

A Sleuth Jesters MerMay Fic

The Sea Jesters are Real Science by MatosaurusRex and sixty_nine13

archiveofourown.org/works/38833821/chapters/97107810

You stare into the glass. At first you see nothing, just a greenish-blue landscape, peaceful and ordinary. There is nothing special about it... Or so you think. As the seconds pass, two figures become more and more visible, slowly growing from two distant dots to two large figures, easily two metres tall. The two creatures stare at you, and you raise your hand, slapping it against the cold glass that holds the creatures trapped. These two beings, which until now had been considered to be legends, raise their hands to clasp yours as well. The most wonderful living beings in the world stand before you, separated by thick glass, suffering every day at the hands of greedy people.

How long will they resist this?

((This fic was inspired by Tumblr shenanigans and merMAY! Thank you all for inspiring us to create this <3))

And the Sea Swallowed My Screams by Burnt_Chicken_Lookin_Ass

archiveofourown.org/works/39115788/chapters/97855353#workskin

"Thalassophobia is the persistent and intense fear of deep bodies of water such as the sea, oceans, pools, lakes. [...] Thalassophobia can include fear of being in deep bodies of water, fear of the vast emptiness of the sea, of sea waves, aquatic creatures, and fear of distance from land."

You are a freelance diver. You are hired to perform difficult dives for item retrieval, research, and/or maintenance checks in less than safe underwater environments. Rule of thumb is to never dive alone; you live by that religiously. Hardly will you ever do a job without your diving partner: Iris. You have a deep seated fear of the open ocean, so if you cant see the bottom of a given body of water, then you simply wont go in.

One day, you receive a job from Fazbear inc. to retrieve the body of an employee at the request of their family. They had drowned when a company ship they worked on had spontaneously combusted and subsequently sank. The company is willing to pay big hush money to keep both the family and your retrieval team from mentioning the wreckage for some reason.

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Looking for more stories? I have a list of DCA stories sorted by type here https://www.tumblr.com/violetstormms/710457016218435584/sunmoon-fnaf-fanfic-recommendation-list (or my pinned comment if you don’t like clicking links)

Also if you have any recommendations please leave a comment, its always fun finding new fics. :)

#fnaf moon #fnaf daycare attendant #daycare attendant fnaf #fnaf sun and moon #fnaf sun #fnaf sundrop #fnaf moondrop #daycare attendant x reader #mermay 2023 #mermay #fnaf sunrise #fnaf moonrise #moon x reader #security breach au #Violetstormm's fic list #sun x reader

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wolfpants · 2 years ago

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saturday wip snip

Thank you for tagging me lovely @tackytigerfic! Check out Tacky's incredible snip here, I am foaming at the mouth (respectfully) for this fic! Here's a little something from my upcoming Drarry fic, Terrible People, aka the Gay Cruise Fic™️ If you haven't already, check out a preview of @getawayfox's art for the fic here!

a bit nsfw

Harry blinks, giving himself permission to remember that exact moment he wandered up to the Tower. It had been a cold winter’s night, and he hadn’t felt like going straight to the common room after dinner.

“A, er. Handy.”

“Classy.” Draco dips his hand into the bag of crisps. “Were they enjoying themselves?”

Harry’s laugh is weak. “Yeah. I mean. We were eighteen and we’d all just survived a war? I think a nice little congratulatory hand job would have felt fantastic.”

“Hm, well, I wouldn’t have known,” Draco says, looking into his drink. “Not back then, anyway.”

Harry scoffs. “Come on. You’re telling me you didn’t get your tackle tickled at all during Hogwarts?”

Draco makes a face, still looking at the melting ice in his plastic cup, his cheeks flushing scarlet. “Don’t be crass.”

“What?” Harry asks too quickly. The colour on Draco’s cheeks intensifies. He frowns at Harry. “No way,” Harry says. “I thought you and Theodore Nott were shagging all through Eighth Year.”

“Well I can tell you right now, that is categorically untrue,” Draco says. “He and I were barely friends, let alone—that. We studied together, because we were both interested in… studying. That’s all.”

Harry tries to remember that part. Hanging back in the common room late at night, lounging across the red velvet sofa because it’d been his favourite: the one in front of the windows that looked down onto the Quidditch pitch. Sometimes he’d be with friends, sometimes he’d be alone, sipping Butterbeer or whisky snuck into the castle from the village, the honeyed smell of it tickling his nose, reminding him of Sirius. How he’d just lie there and listen to the radio or Dean’s CD player and stare: at the sky, at classmates playing chess, at the door, waiting for Draco and Theo to return from the library, both of their heads down, their arms full of books because at that point, no one else was carrying them for Draco. At that point, Draco had taken to carrying everything himself.

“I had a lot to reconcile with, in 1998,” Draco says, speaking when Harry doesn’t, pulling him out of memories that are worn and fuzzy around the edges. “I wasn’t really in the mood for casual sex.”

“I think it’s all I wanted,” Harry says.

no pressure tagging @skeptiquewrites @thehoneybeet @kbrick @mintawasalreadytaken @moonflower-rose @shealwaysreads @magpiefngrl @phoebe-delia @nv-md and anyone else who wants to share words!!!

Read another Terrible People Snip here 🍋🏳️‍🌈💖

#wip snip #thanks for the tag tacky!#drarry #terrible people #writing

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arachnxphobe · 2 years ago

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random miguel hcs

will not admit it but he has cried to multiple animated kids movies

definitely the classics like toy story 3, the iron giant, and inside out

but he also BAWLED at the end of finding nemo because he was thinking about gabriella

he thinks that toothless from how to train your dragon is cute

no i will not elaborate on that

secretly celebrates st patrick’s day

likes to wear something green under his suit or have one piece of decor hidden in the depths of his office

has really low spice tolerance BUT really likes it and also he has a reputation to keep up as the big and tough guy so he WILL try and hide how much water he is chugging

he likes the dad ice cream flavours like pistachio and rum raisin

but hates dad hobbies like golfing or collecting stuff like antique coins or dioramas

he just doesn’t have the patience for it

can cook and bake!!!! actually scratch that he can do all of the chores and is basically a househusband but is simply unwilling to do it

peter b may or may not have gotten him a kiss the cook apron that may or may not be the only apron he owns…

he could 100% have gourmet meals every day but he doesn’t have anyone to impress but himself so most days he just lives off of the sealed, pre-cooked chicken breasts from the convenience store and reheated rice that he makes in a big batch once a week

because yes chicken can be store bought but microwaved rice tastes too much like chemicals, especially for his heightened taste buds

is a shower guy

he thinks that baths are too inefficient and most tubs can’t fit him

but if you somehow manage to find one that’s big enough…oh boy he’ll act like you are waterboarding him but honestly he’s having the time of his life

competitive as hell, even when he acts like he could not care less

like he does not understand the concept of letting somebody else win, why is he handicapping himself and letting them think they’re better than they actually are?

he doesn’t mean it in a way to establish dominance or superiority

he just thinks that it’s weird to let someone win because wouldn’t lying to them be worse? now they can’t even improve

designed his own suit and probably gets a little bit self conscious when someone comments on it because he really isn’t an aesthetics guy but he worked really hard and is proud of his suit 🥺

was perhaps a little bit salty about the dark garfield comment but you didn’t hear that from me

please never trust him with naming or decorating though because if left on his own, it’s either going to be the most disgusting combination of items ever known to man or quite literally the bare minimum

don’t even think about a bed frame, there’s a chance that he doesn’t even have a mattress

he’s good with personal hygiene though

a slight germaphobe in the sense that he wants everything to be sterile (a habit he picked up from always being in the lab) but is more than okay with getting his hands dirty, just as long as he can thoroughly sanitize them afterwards

a terrible movie watcher

he either does not understand the movie whatsoever and keeps on asking questions that they just answered a minute ago

or he’s ripping them apart for their weird pseudoscience

honestly his ranting ends up being more entertaining than the movie at times

be prepared for a full lecture if you don’t stop him at some point though

i’ve heard a lot of people throw out spanish songs that they think he would listen to but might i suggest some non-spanish songs

he gives me doja cat vibes, don’t ask me, i just feel it

personally, i don’t think he would actively listen to kpop or be into the fan culture but he probably enjoys some songs without even realizing they’re kpop

i’m thinking newjeans and maybe epik high??

ABBA

mitski and hozier (where are my depressed wlw at) because you know that when he’s in his brooding self hating mood that he needs suitable bgm

HATES cruises

something about being on water does not vibe with his spider-catness

neither does the overall cruise ship experience

hot tubs and buffets just don’t really do it for him

there’s not much space for privacy except for your own room but even then the walls are fairly thin

so it’d be nearly impossible for him to get any sort of peace

me and the rest of the internet all seem to have agreed that he has insomnia and i feel like a cruise ship would not help whatsoever

would complain about how the mexican food is just what americans think mexican food is like

is too much of a workaholic to take an extended break, and it’s too difficult to jump back into work should there be an emergency

#i am mentally unwell but i am free #do i know where these came from?#no they simply spawned from the void #miguel o'hara #across the spiderverse #atsv #miguel o’hara hcs #miguel o’hara headcanons #atsv hcs #atsv miguel

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hanakihan · 2 years ago

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man you have no idea the sheer DESIRE to write something about Titanic esque chulwoo AU

The main drill is that Sungs come from a rather wealthy old noble family (courtesy of Ashborn as their predecessor being royal knight or smth), Jin-Woo is a next heir while Jin-Ah studies to become a doctor (or a nurse depending on timeline it happens im not even completely sure with setting but probably og titanic vibe mixed with Korean Idek wheeze) and parents send them on a cruise ship for vacation (and in hopes jinwoo will meet nice noblewoman or any woman since sungs are pretty chill about bloodline)

Then there’s Jin-Chul who’s a ship engineer/captain in training courtesy of navy captain on pension Gun-Hee. Gun-Hee comes from rather humble background but managed to reach rather prestigious position of first navy and then civil ship captain but now he’s on pension, and this man is an example to Jin-Chul that you can reach your dream despite your upbringing. Jin-Chul himself also comes from rather humble background on verge of poverty but money and fame never fascinated him, but ships and sailing did. When Jin-Chul was assigned on Gun-Hee’s ship as a new engineer, Gun-Hee saw talent in boy and unofficially took him under his wing teaching him to be a captain. Then Gun-Hee left (or honestly more likely was forcefully dismissed) and Jin-Chul got assigned as one of engineers/coal workers on this giant ship, but Gun-Hee still sails under his own name as a trader or smth like that.

Cue sailing day and at evening Jin-Woo excused himself since noble parties bore him to death and anyway, evening is beautiful and sea is calm. Wandering around he stumbles upon Jin-Chul doing small repairs and who nearly hit Jin-Woo in nose with his elbow because he came too close without announcement. Jin-Chul stiffly apologizing because he knows how annoying nobles can be but is surprised when Jin-Woo is the one to apologize for being so careless and invites him for an apology tea or coffee since compared to other choices Jin-Chul seems as a perfect company thanks to his sharp tongue, wits and knowledge.

Some day of cruise pass and they become rather close friends, Jin-Woo visits Jin-Chul in lowest decks which surprises everyone here and they have a rather nice drinking and dancing session, while in turn Jin-Woo helps Jin-Chul to sneak in 1st class deck so they can chat and play chess in peace of room (and so he can introduce Jin-Chul to Jin-Ah). Jin-Woo even tries to gift Jin-Chul his sapphire brooch so he can sell it for nice sum of money and get his own ship or even open his own company or smth, but Jin-Chul politely refuses, satisfied with their friendship.

Cue disaster night. Now think about captain being an incompetent prick (maybe even on levels of Costa Concordia captain damn) and fucking up entire probably miss into sure hit (even if Jin-Chul risked it and asked people to follow his instructions despite it being a big ass discipline insubordination but no one really minded because people saw that captain gives shit orders) but since bridge was still under captains command, instructions contradicted, but it still allowed a graze hit rather than direct one. So yea this gets worse, Jin-Chul was in section that suffered from impact and got tore, barely got out of here along with most of his men. Seeing how fast water fills decks he tells people to go higher and himself runs to find Sungs or other people he knows. Apparently he finds panicking Jin-Ah and through dangers of ice cold water and falling construction manages to cross paths with Jin-Woo until they got separated again. They manage to get out of sinking shell that nearly becomes their coffin (because he promised Jin-Woo to take care of and save Jin-Ah no matter what goddamnit), Jin-Chul manages to place Jin-Ah on some drifting wood before starting to sink because of cold water.

Now, I’m a sucker for happy endings despite shit looking really bad, so let’s say Jin-Woo with others on safe boat manages to find shell shocked Jin-Ah wrapped in Jin-Chul’s coat, pointing at water and trying to say something with her teeth chattering and managing to say that he’s drowning, Jin-Woo saying ‘not on my fucking watch’ and jumps after, managing to grab him and drag on surface, man is absolutely freezing with lips blue and not really conscious but still weakly breathing.

ANYWAY they safely get back on shore, they all get medical treatment, Jin-Chul earns himself pneumonia (well fuck his sailing dreams ig), Sungs’ gratitude for saving their children and a fucking trial because captain blamed entire catastrophe on lower deck crew defying his orders and following engineer’s ones and that’s a big ass crime in navy. Things ain’t looking good because they want to prosecute him in shortest time to give people answers who’s the guilty one, Jin-Woo is really ready to throw hands with people, Jin-Chul’s patient explanations through coughs ain’t helping because no one can confirm accuracy of his words and that’s when Gun-Hee himself enters court saying smth like ‘maybe you should interrogate deck staff too to hear what commands captain was giving’ and then our sir proceeds to destroy this captain‘s whole career. Jin-Chul is cleaned of accusations and becomes a sort of a good example semi-legend, but thanks to extreme colds diving he now can’t sail on long distances but fear not Gun-Hee invites him to work for him since Jin-Chul is out of commission and Jin-Woo once again gifts Jin-Chul a sapphire brooch but this time asking if Jin-Chul will share future with him. Jin-Chul honestly having ??? reaction while Jin-Woo with the most deadpan face asks ‘You seriously think I’ll dive into cold waters of ocean at night to drag you on surface and then using my body warmth to keep you alive if i didn’t cared about you???’

#solo leveling #woo jin chul #sung jin woo #titanic au #sort of #okay listen I’m a sucker for good catastrophe stories that have good developing romance #jinchul trying to prevent it by being a badass and MVP #still failing tho but at least ship didnt kiss obstacle directly #jinwoo looking at slightly tipsy smiling jinchul who passionately tells about ships while covered in coal and old repaired clothes:#god I love him so fucking much #jinah staring at these two cringe flirting without realizing it from behind her book #‘man the ultimate form of chess homoerotism mixed with density of idiots’#she totally approves tho #jinchul smiling and saying dumb things to cheer hysterical jinah on drifting wood even if they both know it’s pointless #it still works and she laughs and slightly calms down so she won’t flip herself in water #jinchul trying his best until his muscles in water give out and he disappears under water when jinah turns away to yell for a boat #imagine her turning back excitedly only to find herself alone #and being a medical student she knows what it means #jinchul having more bonding moments with jinwoo before catastrophe and with jinah in middle of it #ha I got you #now I made myself sad ffs

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allegrabanner · 2 months ago

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Blood Into Snow, Chapter 1: Out of the Frozen Stone (incomplete)

Sasha awakens to the same out-of-body numbness he remembers from the last time he’d been left to die. He feels snowflakes land, gentle and biting, on his twitching eyelids; his dry lips; the bridge of his freezing nose. Experimentally, he flexes the fingers of his right hand. They snap with the familiar sound of frostbite, and his eyes fly open of their own accord as he scrambles to prop himself up on his bare arms, looking for the sight of a misery he knows has returned.

As he rolls onto his side, he groans with the effort. However long he’s been out here, it’s long enough for the snow to have started claiming his body for the plains, and he leaves an imprint behind him like a chalk outline behind the police tape of the sea and the treeline far in the distance. The space where his head had been is a dark, damp brown. He frowns. It’s clear he’s been here for a while. He looks to the right, and can only sigh in resignation at what he finds.

The snow has stained red, a smear of blood arcing beneath the surface where he’d dragged his hand out of its icy cocoon. Raising it closer to his face takes all of his concentration, and what he sees is damning. His whole hand is black with death, save for the rings of broken exposure that drip bloody rivers down to his elbow. There’s a deep ache in his knuckles, throbbing and heavy, but not much else. He’s not shivering. His lips must be blue by now; the rest of his limbs in much the same state as his right arm.

Sasha flops back down into the snowy mould the snow had formed around him, and immediately regrets it when the action snatches the breath from his lungs. His eyes close, his teeth clench, and despite the rest of his unfeeling body, he allows himself to revel in the simple pain of suffocation. It’s not like he can feel anything else.

The soft silence of snowflakes takes up his entire world. In the back of his mind, Sasha knows that he should move. A quick death is always better than a slow one, and from what he’d managed to see of his body he still had everything he’d been taken out here with, which means he also has his hunting knife. If he concentrates, he can feel the familiar weight of it at his back, between him and the half-frozen mud. But he simply inhales once, long and slow, and imagines the cloud as he exhales. Like a sperm whale breaching the surface of the water one last time, before plunging into the deepest, darkest depths of the ocean, searching for something once known as a frightening sea monster, but now just another earthbound soul.

After a few more minutes, the snow fall stops. By then, Sasha has already sunk below.

❄️ ❄️ ❄️

Maria has, admittedly, not been doing all that great with the whole concept of working in the field. This might be mostly because the field in question is rarely above zero degrees, and almost always requires a drill to get to.

Qasigiannguit, as Greenland’s second oldest town, whose industry revolves around fishing and the occasional cruise ship stopping by, is a nice place – Maria can’t lie about that. The people are friendly, the views are spectacular, and if she were after a quiet life of small-town tranquility and more than a little ice and snow, she’s sure she’d be perfectly happy here.

But if she’s being really, truly honest with herself, Maria just wants to go home.

She’s spent a month out here, getting to know the single Pilersuisoq supermarket and her fellow colleagues like the back of her hand. There are only three of them, since the project of rock sampling in this specific part of Greenland is neither large nor of major significance, but they’ve found themselves getting along – largely – like a house on fire.

Tilly is all curly brown hair, freckles all over, and a smile to light up a room. Maria had been friendly with her before, but more because she was friends with everyone. This trip, though, had really brought them together. Tilly had done a lot of field work before, loved it to death, and had been a massive help during the adjustment period. She’s their project lead, and had approached the both of them to ask if they’d assist her after finding out about their shared interests in arctic rock formation and composition.

Then, there’s Cory – with a whole head of difference between him and Maria, and another half down to Tilly, accompanied by wire-framed glasses and a heart of gold. He’s one of Maria’s youngest coworkers, fresh from university and mostly around for his height, but definitely with the same spark of passion that drove Tilly to do what she did, and sure to follow in her footsteps. He was almost painfully shy when she’d first met him, but now, he’d talk for hours about everything and nothing without any input from either her or Tilly to keep him going.

They had twelve days left in Qasigiannguit until they’d fly back to the UK and gather their findings into something passably coherent for the rest of their coworkers to review before publication. In all honesty, Maria’s pretty sure they’ve collected all the data they need, but Tilly’s insistence on needlessly thorough exploration of the surrounding ridges, shores and mountains puts a light in her eyes that Maria can’t quite bring herself to refuse.

So, they pack for the day – all their equipment goes into a trailer connected to the ATV the company had rented in advance for their study, along with three packed lunches and thermoses, since they planned to be out for most of the day. Maria ends up being the last one out of the small elevated building they’re staying in, and finds Tilly and Cory waiting for her in the ATV. As she approaches, she smiles, shaking her head as she spots the empty driver’s seat. She raises an eyebrow at a – only slightly – guilty-looking Cory in the back seat next to a rucksack, then at the decidedly gremlin-like grin of Tilly in the passenger seat.

Maria, used to their antics by now, just huffs out a tiny breath of laughter. “I see how it is,” she says, hoisting herself up into the driver’s seat and tossing her bag to Cory.

“You snooze you lose,” Tilly says in that sing-song way of hers that has been growing on Maria since the taxi ride to the airport back in London.

“On your head be it, then,” Maria responds, turning the key and feeling the ARV rumble to life. She puts it in reverse, then braces her arm against her seat as she twists around to get them on the road. “Since you’ve forced me into this, no complaints about my off-road driving skills.”

“Oh, no worries there – I’d take you over Tilly any day,” Cory reassures, and Maria smiles to herself at the expression she knows is plastered all over Tilly’s face.

“Cory O’Sullivan!” Tilly exclaims in mock outrage. “How dare you talk about your mother like that!”

In the corner of her vision, Maria catches Cory rolling his eyes. “You’re six years older than me, but okay – Mam.”

As Maria turns to face forward again, she sees Tilly looking back at Cory with mock disapproval, and pulls her snood up over her nose to hide her grin. The field work part might not be anything she wants to do again any time soon, but this part… This part, she decides, is more than worth it.

brainworms lol. in other news maria and tilly are in love you can’t change my mind

#alley posts shit #writing #original character #original story #blood into snow #story

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hypocriticaltypwriter · 1 year ago

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MORE FOR THAT ✨A Unique Self Ship Ask Game With Unique Questions!✨

Because I love when my wife rants and I love learning more about their silly and adorable relationship ((both Donnie and the vampy bois🤭))

1. Everyone always asks about the first kiss. What about your first make-out session?

3. What was your SECOND date like? Was it an improvement on the first in some way?

6. What kinds of kisses does your F/O give you? What kinds of kisses do you give your F/O?

((I don’t remember if i added this question in the first one but I’m gonna add it here just to make sure kdkdkjde))

9. What's your F/O's favorite cuddling position? Yours?

MJ OUT HERE BEING THE BEST WIFEY LETTING ME RAMBLE ABOUT MY BBGIRLS 🥺🥺🫰🏻🫰🏻🫰🏻💜💜💜

⚠️Warning! Spicy content in the first question! (No NSFW) You've been warned... 👀🔥⚠️

1. Everyone always asks about the first kiss. What about your first make-out session?

OK but let's be honest here... When are these boys NOT looking for an excuse or place to make-out??? 🙃😏

LMAO but on a fr note 👏 the first time any of the boys actually got all smoochy with Chrysta was out of pure spite.

Marko and Paul had gotten into a stupid hissy fit over which of their bikes Chrysta was gonna ride home on. It got to a point David had stepped in to tell them to act like the dumbass adults they were or she'd riding home with him.

Yeah... They didn't like that.

The blondes were already at each other's throats for most of the night, even with Chrysta squished between them with her arms linked with each of theirs, leading them around the Boardwalk happily (and obliviously. 🤭)

So, it wasn't until later into the night when Paul decided to get all hot and bothered near one of those mini photo booths after Chrysta had mustered up her best puppy-dog-eyes and asked Marko to go get her some ice cream.

Paul really wanted to get on his buddy's nerves, apparently. He wanted to make Chrysta a sight that'd get his curly-haired friend baring his fangs in jealousy. Legit went down like this:

"Oh! When Marko gets back, can we go on the ferris wheel, Paulie? Pretty plea-AEEK-!" *gets dragged into the photo booth*

By the time Marko got back, he saw Paul cooly walk out of the booth with the smuggest side-eye, quickly followed by a VERY flustered Chrysta.

You know in the cartoons when they get covered in kisses and have that lazy dopey love-drunk look on their face, hair and close all unkempt and crazy, and sunglasses crooked, and they walk around all dazed and in a dream-like state, unable to stand straight?

That was Chrysta.

She also drove home with David that night. :/

3. What was your SECOND date like? Was it an improvement on the first in some way?

So, given her true first date was probably the night she even met the boys (which was just a cruise around the boardwalk and beach on the back of David's bike.) The actual/official second date was a movie night at Chrysta's house (the first time ever invited them in too 👀) in her attic bedroom.

She rented Fright Night (OH THE IRONY CHERRY), and they all got an excuse to get snuggly with her and let her cling onto them when she got scared. She was whining and complaining the whole time how they didn't even flinch at any scares or the twists!

... They're exscuse was that they've just seen it too many times. 🤭😏

6. What kinds of kisses does your F/O give you? What kinds of kisses do you give your F/O?

David is probably first (or at least comes into a hot second) when it comes to being one to kiss Chrysta the most. Wether it be a little peck on the lips after she comes running over to him perched on his bike, asking for a couple dollars so she can go buy a sweet or pretty jewelry.

Or a slow, passionate kiss to show her off and who she belongs to if he sees people staring at her just a little too long for his liking. 🫣🙈

Marko is probably more touchy than he is kissy, but he isn't gonna deny his angel-face from a little kiss here and there if she's just being too cute - he can't help it! Especially when he picks on her enough to see her pout her lips out - he just has to steal a quick peck. 🥺

Or he gives her some chaste kisses to her shoulder or cheek from behind her if they're sat and doing nothing for too long and he just wants to start shit. 🙄

Dwayne’s a guy who does not PLAY when it comes to kisses. Either go big or go home. 🫠🫡

And he also doesn't do them as constantly as the other Boys do, so much so when Chrysta wants a good kiss before she's taken back home for the night, she usually just stands in front of him, her lips pursed and her index finger tapping against them. Waiting patiently for when he leans his head down just a little, a hand reaching to the back of her head and one sneaking into the back pocket of her jeans to tug her closer.

And oh MY HEAVENS IF YOU THINK PAULS MAKE-OUTS MAKE THIS GIRL A PUDDLE-

She's literally sneaking back into her room through her window giggling and twirling her hair, all in a tizzy with her cherry-favlored lipgloss smeared at the corner of her lips and chin. 💀💀

And fighting David for the most often smooches with Cherri is probably Paul. Without a doubt there isn't a second in the night when he isn't trynna do something to get kiss as a reward. Winning her gifts, buying her jewelry or clothes, spoiling the ever loving guts out of his Dime-Piece so he can get that feeling of her lips against his for just a little longer. 🫠🤤

And sometimes, he gets way too impatient to wait for the kisses to just come to him and takes matters into his hands. It's become normal/second nature to the curly-haired brunette to feel Paul just come up behind her and start leaving a few kisses on her neck or pout against the back of her ear, making huffing noises till she's finished talking to whoeever so he can snatch up a little smoochy.

TBH she probably learned the nature from Paul himself when it comes to getting kisses from Dwayne LMAO

9. What's your F/O's favorite cuddling position? Yours?

Given the boys sleep in rafters upside down, snuggles are rare. Even when they decide to bunk with Chrysta in her bed at her home, Marko and Paul are usually the only ones who are willing to take up the offer and gladly (+ literally) jump into her bed and spoon her.

But those rare days, when the summer chill runs through Santa Carla, and it's enough to irk they're cold undead bodies, they don't mind a cuddle puddle with they're own personal heater girlfriend.

Davids usually the one who has her laying facing him, her face buried into his neck, a leg lazily thrown atop his torso, or vice versa. Dwayne lays behind her, arms snuggled around her waist and face hidden away in his hair and her back. Marko lays squished between David and Chrysta's abdomens, arms wrapped around her hips below Dwayne’s and his face hidden into her stomach, resting against the soft chub on her tummy as his own (and favorite) little cushion. Paul lays at her legs, his body wrapped around them like a koala and his head rested on her rear.

It only takes about thirty minutes before Chrysta tries to pry all the cold bodies off of her feverish one... Pray for her these fuckers sleep like the DEAD. 🙏

🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻

THANK YOU MJ I ALWAYS GET SO GIDDY WHEN YOU POP INTO MY ASK BOX

#cherry rambles #ask #cherry answers #🍒daily dose of cherry🍒#🍒cherrys spice cabinet🔥#tlb #the lost boys #tlb 1987 #the lost boys 1987 #tlb oc #the lost boys oc #x oc #selfship #tlb paul #tlb marko #tlb dwayne #tlb david

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purplesurveys · 1 year ago

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1783

How long has it been since you moved out of the house you grew up in? I haven't moved out.

What color shirt are you wearing? It's light purple.

The last time you ate leftovers, what was it that you were eating? I think it's been a while since I have a terrible habit of keeping leftovers and then never coming back for them ever again... BUT OH I think it was a double cheeseburger from McDonald's? sometime earlier this week. I still have a handful of other paper bags in the fridge that I need to get to soon.

What was the last flavor of ice cream you ate? I had Aice's coffee popsicle when we went to Tanay over the weekend which I was super stoked about since it's my favoriteeeeeeeeeee and I haven't had the chance to have it since 2021 ehehehe. I must have finished it in 5 minutes and chewed my way through the ice cream for the most part lol.

Do you regret anything you've done in the last 24 hours, and if so, what? Not charging my laptop last night because I had to painstakingly migrate from one outlet to another today, given that I was out all day for work.

What is your favorite type of soup? 🍜 Miso soup, mushroom soup, and this last one is more stew than soup but I love kimchi jjigae.

When was the last time you saw a beautiful sunset? 🌅 It's honestly been ages. I haven't had the time to pause and simply watch a sunset happen and silently soak in those few minutes in a while. The last time may have been all the way back in June when my friends and I had dinner on a tiny cruise boat in Bangkok.

What is your favorite song at the moment? Cult of Personality by Living Colour for reasons that anyone who even slightly follows wrestling would know, haha.

What is your favorite board that you've made on Pinterest? I'm not that deep into Pinterest to have boards. I only ever use it for quick searches when I need certain pegs for work Powerpoints.

Do you get on Facebook or Instagram more? I'm on the Reels tab on Instagram more frequently than I would like to admit, lol. I'm connected to more people on Facebook but it's also still more boring, so when I'm on there I typically just look at the first 10, 15 posts on my feed to see what people are talking about then already close the app.

What color is your favorite sweater? I don't have a favorite sweater.

What are three things people would never guess about you just by looking at the photos you post on social media? I don't talk to my brother; I don't know how to ride a bicycle; I was deep into the British YouTuber invasion of the early-mid 2010s.

What is one thing you have too much of? Right now that would be boxes of my fave coconut-scented reed diffuser but that's only because that's what I got my workmates this Christmas and I have yet to wrap them and give them out, haha.

What was the last thing you ate or drank that was blue raspberry-flavored? It must've been months or years now; raspberry is definitely not something I encounter a lot.

What are three of your favorite scents? Vanilla, anything that's being baked, and apparently coconut.

What was the last flavor of tea you drank? ☕️ Lemon.

When was the last time you wore your hair in a fishtail braid? Almost exactly a year ago.

What is one annoying thing your computer does? I'm so attached to this laptop and it's my baby that I don't even have the heart to say anything bad about it lol. It's extremely slow and the 10 hour battery life has turned into 1 hour in the last six years and it barely has any storage left and has stopped becoming eligible for updates, but IT'S MY BABY DAMMIT.

What type of fruit do you eat the most? I avoid fruits.

How often do you go out to eat? Once or twice a month, I would say.

What would your dream wedding dress look like? 👰‍♀️ I'm too lazy to describe anything in detail as it is 10:30 PM and I'm too tired from work lololol but I would love anything that'd channel Audrey Hepburn. Something that'd be able to accentuate the waist with verrrrrrry subtle sleeves and a quiet yet elegant train that doesn't try to steal attention.

Which fall flavor do you prefer: pumpkin spice or apple cinnamon? Pumpkin spice. Got to try the Starbucks drink when they were randomly giving out pumpkin spice free samples and I came out of that store a changed and converted woman.

What is the most annoying thing about your life right now? All other PR/ad agencies are going on shutdown by the end of this week and my fuckin workplace isn't starting ours until next Friday.

Which holiday treat do you like better: candy corn or conversation hearts? Candy corn I guess, but I'm not a big candy person to begin with so eh.

What is your favorite apple-flavored treat? Chewy candies, like Mentos.

What are you counting down the days to right now, if anything? Our office shutdown. I'm so excited for it that I've started to stop exerting 100% effort at work lol.

What was the last book you read about? It's an autobiography.

Have you been daydreaming a lot lately about a scenario you wish would happen? I've been dreaming about it a lot, frustratingly enough.

What are three of your favorite things about camping? ⛺️ I've never gone camping before.

If you could choose what month to be born in, what month would you have chosen as your birth month, and why? My birth month has never really been an issue to me and I wouldn't change it even if I could.

...and what is your actual birth month? April.

What are three of your favorite things to do on a rainy day? 🌧️ If I had it my way I'd turn on the aircon, make my room as dark as possible, and take a long nap.

Would you rather eat strawberries 🍓 or watermelon 🍉? Neither.

Do you prefer smoothies or milkshakes? 🍹 Milkshakes.

Do you prefer hamburgers 🍔 or hot dogs 🌭? Burgers.

When was the last time you felt nauseous? I had the most awful motion sickness last Monday.

What was the last thing you ate that made you feel nauseous? The bagnet and bone marrow dish I had two weeks ago didn't necessarily make me feel nauseous but it did give me awful heartburn.

Do you enjoy going to your local county fair? We don't have one in my city.

How far away do you live from the place where you were born? I'd say it's a 1.5-2 hr car ride.

Do you prefer zebra print or cheetah print? Cheetah.

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mrs-starkgaryen · 14 days ago

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I died in this fic and I was just resurrected so here's the essay, Maggie, no fret-

1. "On the kitchen counter is a plate holding a single slice of wheat toast with a transparently thin smear of peanut butter. [...] In their vase, the sunflowers are perky and radiant, like the nuggets of gold that beckoned settlers to the West Coast in the mid-1800s, the hope, the possibility, the indomitable dream."

A) the diet stuff for famous people is already making an appearance

B) the gold reference from NTTF? (I don't have an obsession)

C) the allure of the gold, the hope, the dream? Her acting dream is so embellished here

2. “Try,” Baela insists, pushing the plate towards you. [...] “You aren’t going to make a good impression if you’re all woozy and retching everywhere. You don’t want to look half-dead when you meet Maroon 5, do you?”

A) being forced to do things under the guise of 'caring'...

B) HW people don't care about how you feel as long as you don't show it on the outside e.g: Dan

C) yes I actually do want to look half-dead to keep maroon 5 from me

4. “Oh my God.” You chuckle languidly, rubbing your forehead. Your eyes ache; you’ve barely slept. “I completely forgot they’re going to be there.”

A) she's already being affected- she's tired and losing sleep

B) I didn't forget 😭

5. "And a curse, you think before you can stop yourself. You nibble at your peanut butter toast reluctantly. “I shouldn’t complain.”

A) she said the title again, let's wrap it up.

B) no Sunshine, stand up for yourself

6. "You crack open the La Croix and take a sip: icy, sharp, oddly dry, Strawberry Peach, pretty awful. “It could be a lot worse.”

A) you think it will be sweet, but it let's you down. Sounds like the dream of being famous...

7. "Hair stylists, makeup artists, and costume designers will reinvent you when you get to set, so you are dressed for comfort: an olive green floral sundress with large buttons down the front, your trusty TOMS wedges, just a blur of eyeshadow swept across your lids with a fingertip so you don’t feel naked, sparkly gold Bold Moves by Huda Beauty. Aegon is already blaring Lose Yourself and rapping along loudly, wearing his aviator sunglasses and flashing gang signs, his sandy blonde hair brutalized from the wind:"

A) the fact you said reinvent, not words like stylise, etc is great cuz that's exactly what this part of Hollywood is like- get rid of the old you, hence botox etc.

B) her clothes are comfortable, ironic as she won't feel like this for long

C) the buttons all the way down... easy for aegon to you know...

D) the fingertip applied sparkly gold eyeshadow- barely there, symbolising maybe her innocent dream is disappearing, losing its spark?

E) lose yourself? Maybe someone is losing themselves: either Aegon (memory) or Sunshine (to fit in)

8. “I told my dad you drive one of these,” you say as you climb into the Sebring. “He said they’re super unreliable.”

A) the car is a danger waiting to happen? Interesting choice for Aegon who has something waiting to happen...

B) or does it imply that Aegon isn't a reliable partner? Not for cheating or anything but cuz he doesn't want to get close due to his illness

9. “Oh, absolutely,” Aegon replies. “But I have lots of money and very few responsibilities, so repairs aren’t a problem. And it cruises so smooth.” When he passes you a venti-sized iced vanilla latte, his right hand is shaking."

A) few responsibilities...hmmmm, possibly a child?!

B) he wants to look good on the outside despite breaking down in the inside (like the car)

C) he remembers what drinks she likes AND HER FAV FLAVOUR

D) his hand is shaking... how weird... defo not for a medical issue, the drink was just very cold

10. "Aegon flashes a grin. “Too much caffeine.”

A) sure

11. “Because they keep trying to get Steve to do his own stunts and I don’t want him to end up with a broken back like Brendan Fraser. Uh huh. Sure. Oh, and remind Steve that he’s invited to the charity gala thing. Yeah. I don’t know, call Aemond and ask. No, I don’t want to call him, that’s why I’m telling you to do it. Okay. Cool, thanks. Hey, I have no idea when we’ll be done with the Maroon 5 thing so no need to wait at the office, you can take off at three or four or whenever. Sounds good. See ya.” Aegon hangs up and glances at you. “You’re invited too, by the way.”

A) ooh i made a ref to Brendan Fraser in the first chapter

B) he doesn't want to talk to Aemond... interesting

C) The office is going to be empty? Perfect for sexy times

D) I can't wait for the drama of the gala. I bet Becca will be there

12. "The mansion is perched on the cliffside of Bendict Canyon, red-gold earth that glows under the rising sun, gnarled trees and shrubs twisting skyward from arid soil. The circular driveway is already crowded with trucks and vans, along with a few BMWs and Range Rovers. Aegon parks his convertible near the end of the driveway and then walks with you into the building: mid-century modern, glass walls and sand-colored marble floors to match the accents of amber and warm teak wood, jewel-tone velvet furniture and shag area rugs, statues that pretend to be gold and plants made of plastic. There are attendants brushing exotic cats, Ragdolls and Himalayans. There are people picking over trays of fruit and sandwiches, and others setting up light fixtures and placing marks on the floor with tiny Xs of white tape. You imagine yourself standing on them, and your knees and ankles feel weak as you toddle in your wedges."

A) sounds like hell with the red connotations

B) glass walls- no privacy

C) the house interior sounds very common like everyone in HW is the same

D) fake gold and plastic plants- all fake, like HW

E) everyone is picking at food....

13. "Dan waves Maroon 5 over, and you meet the band but even as it’s happening you can feel yourself not committing it to memory, your skull too full of rattling anxiety, fog-like doubt. They are here to tour the set, but they seem halfhearted about it, and soon they find an excuse to leave; the band is filming their scenes on a different day and presumably have more interesting things to do. If I had millions of dollars, you think distractedly, I would want to be on a film set every day of my life. You are also introduced to the male actor, and he is very attractive in a tan, gym rat, California sort of way, and he seems perfectly polite as well. Aegon hovers nearby until the actor casually mentions his husband, then Aegon slides his sunglasses into his suit jacket and wanders off to pet the long-haired and ill-tempered exotic cats.

A) not the band, don't seem the best to meet

B) she would stay even if she was famous but maybe she hasn't been around long enough for the effects of it to disappear like it has for m5

C) or maybe she's doing it for the passion whereas they're just in for the money?

D) lmao Aegon is so protective & jealous

14. "And then before you can think of how to protest, she herds the stylists out of the bedroom and you are left alone with the poltergeist of the near-future, cold pockets that make you shiver and the racket of furniture being rearranged in other rooms. You leaf through the script and then, when your hands start shaking, leave it on the low platform bed with a geometric print blanket.

A) "herds" all animals in the Hollywood zoo

B) poltergeist of the near-future... like Aegon is the ghost of what's to come..

C) everyone's hands are shaking

15. “Are you naked?”

A) how gentlemanly

B) but even if I was, come in

16. Aegon is confounded. “What scene?”

A) I knew he didn't know

B) let's get angry!

17. You reach up onto the bed behind you and fumble around until your fingers grasp the script. You give it to Aegon and he hurriedly skims through the pages. When he stumbles across the scene in question, he goes entirely still and his murky blue eyes turn dark and hard and focused in a way you’ve learned is rare for him.

A) desperate movements from her...

B) ooh he's turning into a werewolf- wrong genre

C) he's getting mad yippee

D) focusing is rare for him... woah alright sunshine (it's true but still), also calling g out his medical issue

18. Aegon looks at you. “He showed up at your house?”

A) I knew that was wrong

B) get extra angry

19. Dan is chortling with two other men and leaning against a wall. Aegon rages to him, shoves him so hard Dan stumbles, strikes the wall two inches from his face. Aegon’s knuckles come away bloody; there is now a dent in the wall marred with a stain of crimson. An assistant screams; everyone in the room is gawking.

A) ugh, men being happy ew

B) woah I love angry aegon but I don't want him to get in trouble for physcial assault buy Dan asked for it

C) also is Dan named after that Nickolodeon Dan cuz he was a creep too

D) I'll lick aegons blood up, no worries

20. “How about we take it from your life insurance policy?”

A) yes babe, I love this look

21. “No, you know what you did!” Aegon shouts, and Dan is bigger than him but Aegon is seething, fearless, unrelenting, giving him no space. He balls up the script and pitches it at Dan; it bounces off his temple. “You knew any changes to the script were supposed to go through me and you hid this, and that’s fucked up, and it’s not happening. Take the scene out.”

A) the little dogs are always the most ferocious 😂 ankle biters

B) can he be my bodyguard?

22. “Don’t act stupid. You went to her house and you sprung this on her and you thought you could get away with breaking the rules, and maybe you’ve done this before and no one stopped you because it’s just innocuous enough for you to have plausible deniability. But you’re not going to do it to me, and you’re not going to do it to my girl.”

A) ew men suck, ew hollywood

B) I hate that this probably happens, not just to young women but the young men too

C) MY GIRL? hot, squealing- ITS OFFICIAL

23. “And I will never work with you again. And neither will Aemond, or Helaena, or Daeron, or any of our people.”

A) and he goes in for another blow!! 🤜

B) oooh using the whole family? 💅 do it

C) I want to see how big his family is in Hollywood, like his Kardashian style (but with jobs in the industry). Also what are their jobs other than aemonds scriptwriting?

24. Aegon smiles, thin and tight and ingenuine. “I’ve been known to be sensitive.” He holds out his right hand; blood drips from his knuckles. An assistant drops to the marble floor and scrambles around wiping up the mess, viscous and scarlet. “No hard feelings?”

A) he's been known to be sensitive.. with what?

B) blood pact lmao

C) he is scary and we love that

25. Aegon returns to you, and your pulse is slow and hushed, and your breathing is effortless, and you are transfixed; you cannot look away from him, you cannot believe he’s real. “So, uh,” he says, quietly so the rest of the room won’t hear. “No need to worry about that anymore. You want to take ten minutes to chill and get in the zone, and then we’ll get started?”

A) same sunshine, same. Im stunned

B) why can't he be real

26. “Okay.” Aegon turns to Dan. “She’s ready.” Then he points at the male actor. Aegon probably doesn’t mean it to, but it comes out sounding like a threat. “You ready?”

A) calm down man, save that energy for something else

27. “Great,” Aegon says, and he steps out of the shot, and you step into it, and by the time the camera rolls you aren’t you anymore. You are a woman who desperately loves the man in front of her—instantly transformed from a stranger to a soulmate—and you are betrayal and jealousy and loss and wrath, and while your pink Prada dress is formal and wondrous your body is ever-contorting to be weak, vulnerable, breaking as you realize he is leaving.

A) he steps out, you step in? So like when he leaves the industry/ dies- that's her wish to carry on, to dedicate things to him?

B) damn her onscreen loves aren't great, they always leave. Much like Aegon will? I see your foreshadowing

C) and whilst she looks great, she will feel weak when she loses aegon?

28. Then you are clawing your way up the staircase in a heavy fur coat that seems to swallow you, then you are in a bedroom making unanswered phone calls in a lavender silk nightgown, then you are in the kitchen shattering plates and glasses in a neon green mini-dress, then you are in a leopard-print robe petting the exotic cats in the living room, then you are drowning in the swimming pool in a black empire-waist evening gown. Aegon follows you around the mansion and stands wordlessly in corners, chomping on his Juicy Fruit gum, holding the towels that assistants bring him against his knuckles; during every wardrobe change, he waits just outside the bedroom door.

A) she sounds like an animal trapped, is that gonna happen when she makes it? And aegon is gone?

B) he always has gum- that must mean something. Like is he trying to disguise a flavour of medicine or symptom? Idk like President Snow wore roses to hide the effects poison had on his mouth

29. “Aegon, please don’t be mad at him,” you say quietly. He’s driving very, very fast. The streetlights race by in a blur, the night wind tears like talons through your hair.

A) he is sounding reckless, dangerous,l

B) or with him, she feels exhilarated?

30. “It’s not fine.” And you don’t have the opportunity to correct him because Aegon is scrolling through his contacts, and despite his earlier aversion to calling his brother Aemond, soon Aegon is recounting what happened and warning Aemond to never work with Dan, never recommend him to actors, never sell him a script, that Dan is dead to all of them as soon as the music video is officially released.

A) I like the commitment Aegon

B) he's so mad at Dan that he doesn't mind (he needs to) calling his brother. I wonder what happened between them

31. Aegon merges onto the 10 and heads east towards his office in Elysian Park. You don’t wonder why he’s not taking you south to Harbor Gateway, because you don’t want to go home yet.

A) ooh I wonder why

B) sexxxxxx

32. Aegon sighs deeply and kneads the area just above his right eye with his fingertips, as if he has a headache.

A) a headache, my poor baby

33. He glances at the back of his hand as if he had forgotten about the damage incurred there: clotted blood, subterranean bruises. “No, that was just for you.”

A) forgotten? First goes short term memory then it's long term omg

B) hang on, that's hot

C) would he want to f*st me?

34. Then you step out of your wedges, reach beneath your sundress, hook your thumbs under the waistband of your panties and pull them down to your ankles. You kick them away and leave them on the scuffed wood floor with your wedges. Aegon is watching you, his lips parted and his dark blue eyes amazed, as you walk to his desk and sit on the edge, pluck a Honeycrisp apple out of the bowl there, and take a large, famished bite. When saccharine juice spills down your lips, you don’t wipe it away.

A) girl I was like what is she doing

B) also my lips were open in shock

C) but I was here for it

D) I knew that apple would come back woo

35. Slowly, Aegon’s own mouth blooms into a smile. “I was wondering if it was mutual.”

A) hot

B) we all knew it was mutual

36. You are afraid only once, when Aegon unclasps your bra and tosses it away, but then he’s touching and kissing you there, lips and tongue and teeth, and his need is so palpable, and you can’t believe you ever considered scalpels and stitches. “I knew you were perfect,” he whispers against your throat, and when his war-torn hand travels between your legs you are already slick and starving, and you tell him you can’t wait.

A) my goodness, same sunshine lmao

B) I knew he'd love her boobs

C) this is hot. One of the best sex scenes you've done. the feelings!!

37. You glance down as he rummages around in a drawer of his desk and eventually—seconds that feel like an eternity—finds a few condoms in silvery wrappers. “I’m sorry you have to use one,” you say, breathing heavily as you lie beneath him, not wanting to ruin this. “I’m sorry I’m not on the pill or—”

A) damn he has condoms on the ready?

B) does he and Becca like office sex?

C) or does he have secret sex wirh a lot of people?

D) girl don't apologise, always wrap it. Men should do that regardless- cooties

38. And then he’s easing himself into you, and it’s better than it’s ever been because you’ve never wanted it more, and you’re trying not to moan too loudly because you don’t know if there’s anyone home in the other half of the rundown little duplex, and when your eyes flutter open you see flashes of the mint green walls, beams of headlights raking across the windows, gleaming emerald shards of your Perrier bottle that has tumbled to the floor and broken there, hemorrhaging a sea of carbonated water. It’s not a climax but a plateau so high you can’t think, can’t speak, your fingers in Aegon’s hair and your hips moving with his, your legs linked around him and his voice in your ear, is this okay for you, is this good, and you are nodding and gasping and letting him take you to a place where you can have everything, magic that usually only exists on pages and screens.

A) a lot of green...

B) "broken & hemorrhaging".. interesting use of words

C) he wants to make sure its good, my baby

D) or does he feel like he csnt do it as good as he used cuz of his medical issues?

E) he's taking her somewhere she wants to go but will it be as good as she hoped?

39. Aegon kisses you, sweet and slow, and then he climbs off the desk and flings the condom somewhere, grabs your hips, drags you towards to him. You sit up when you realize what he’s doing.

A) passionate, stop. I want Aegon

B) is someone gonna find that condom?? Even if it went in the bin?

C) oh he's hungry

D) she feels like she's an inconvenience 😪

40. “Shut up and put your legs over my shoulders.” He yanks you closer and you fall back onto the desk, now damp and slippery with perspiration, and you are grinning up at the ceiling, astonished and euphoric and a little sheepish, not expecting it to work but then being overwhelmed by him, coaxed into it like tumbling down the crumbling wall of a canyon, plummeting into inevitable and effortless gravity, the earth disintegrating beneath your clawing fingers when you try to catch yourself. Then Aegon takes your hand and shows you that he is hard again.

A) yes sir, I will

B) all I'm thinking is that she's got paper stuck to her lmao

C) aegon do me next

D) she's falling but he's catching her. Will she have that next time when she falls for other reasons?

41. “More,” you plead in a whisper, and you go with him down to the floor, careful to avoid jagged flecks of glass and fragments of the shattered ceramic bowl, and you are helping him roll a new condom on because he’s taking too long and you can’t wait, and you’re both laughing as you straddle him, and then it becomes something quiet and slow and indelibly heavy, imprints in sand that eons of waves could not wash away, and afterwards you lie together on the floor for a long time, not saying anything, not tethered to reality, drifting in a bone-weary mirage of nightscape chemicals until the sun will rise and paint the world in color again.

A) amongst the rubbish (of hollywood) she has him, a safety net. She won't always have it..

B) is he taking too long cuz he's spent or cuz of his medical issues?

C) oh its something deep!

42. Aegon groans as he drags himself to his feet, pulls on his suit and misbuttons his shirt, surveys the damage done to his office and runs his hands through his disheveled blonde hair. He shakes his head and looks a little sad, vacant, meditative. Does he regret it? you worry; but then Aegon turns to you and smiles. “Let’s get going.”

A) 'misbuttons' because he's tired or forgetful?

B) is he sad because he wishes he didn't have to do her in his office, and something better like his house, like a wife would want?

C) he's always putting on a smile for her

43. You check the analog clock on the dashboard, a black box of green numbers. It’s just after midnight on July 4th. You murmur as you kiss Aegon one last time, your lips curled into a smile: “Happy Independence Day.”

A) green again...

B) independence day... yet they're not free

C) he's still engaged, has medical issues

44. Then you float up the concrete steps and into your apartment building, higher than the sun at noon.

A) aw she's floating

B) there's nothing higher and brighter than the sun at noon, and we know what that means.. the sun has to go down, so it's only bad from here guys 🌆🌃🌅

I hope you enjoyed Maggie! I loved thsi chapter and I love this fic, it is my second favourite Aegon one and possibly matched third overall: after nttf and martyrs, joined with comet donati cuz I love that croc Aegon with my heart. "Starboy, stargirl, starbaby"....

A Curse [Chapter 4: Beverly Hills]

Series summary: You are an aspiring actress. Aegon is a washed-up and disenchanted agent…at least until he sees something special in you. But within paradisical seaside Los Angeles you find terrible dangers and temptations, secrets and lies. Maybe Aegon’s right; maybe the City of Angels really is a curse.

Chapter warnings: Language, sexual content (18+ readers only), age-gap relationship, entertainment industry misogyny, lowkey sexual harassment, emotional distress/panic attack, Maroon 5, some shouting, minor injury, Sunshine and Aegon share an apple.

Word count: 5.8k

💜 All my writing can be found HERE! 💜

Tagging: @lauraneedstochill @mrs-starkgaryen @chattylurker @neithriddle @ecstaticactus, more in comments! 🥰

🏝️ Let me know if you’d like to be added to the taglist 🏝️

Baela has made you breakfast. On the kitchen counter is a plate holding a single slice of wheat toast with a transparently thin smear of peanut butter. You’re already nauseous; the smell of toast in the air is enough to make your stomach lurch and the caustic burn of acid rise in your throat. In their vase, the sunflowers are perky and radiant, like the nuggets of gold that beckoned settlers to the West Coast in the mid-1800s, the hope, the possibility, the indomitable dream.

“I don’t think I can eat anything,” you say.

“Try,” Baela insists, pushing the plate towards you. Jace isn’t shuffling around lackadaisically or sprawled across the orange couch; he must still be asleep. “You aren’t going to make a good impression if you’re all woozy and retching everywhere. You don’t want to look half-dead when you meet Maroon 5, do you?”

“Oh my God.” You chuckle languidly, rubbing your forehead. Your eyes ache; you’ve barely slept. “I completely forgot they’re going to be there.”

Baela grabs a can of La Croix out of the refrigerator and sets it down beside your toast. “You’re that freaked out about the bathtub thing?”

“I guess so.”

“You wanted to be an actress. You’re getting your wish. It’s a blessing.”

And a curse, you think before you can stop yourself. You nibble at your peanut butter toast reluctantly. “I shouldn’t complain.”

“No, you shouldn’t,” Baela says.

You crack open the La Croix and take a sip: icy, sharp, oddly dry, Strawberry Peach, pretty awful. “It could be a lot worse.”

“Yeah, it’s not like it’s a Harvey Weinstein situation.” And in her tone is a quiet condemnation: you don’t belong here, you don’t have what it takes.

“What are you doing today?” you ask to distract yourself.

“Gym, the farmers’ market, practicing French.” Because Baela is leaving for Paris in a few weeks, and her agent didn’t even have to forge her a resume to get her the part. “Maybe you’ll meet a guy on the music video set, like a camera dude or a boom operator or something, and then you can finally have a real boyfriend and stop fantasizing about your elderly engaged agent!”

I doubt it. Nonetheless, you smirk weakly as you nurse your La Croix. “Let’s hope he’s not a hobosexual like Jace. We’re running out of room.”

“Hey,” Baela says as she admires your sunflowers with a soft, fond smile. “Jace isn’t so bad.”

“No,” you agree. “No, he’s not.”

You are standing on the sidewalk outside your apartment building when Aegon rolls up in his white Chrysler Sebring convertible, just a few minutes shy of 8 a.m. Hair stylists, makeup artists, and costume designers will reinvent you when you get to set, so you are dressed for comfort: an olive green floral sundress with large buttons down the front, your trusty TOMS wedges, just a blur of eyeshadow swept across your lids with a fingertip so you don’t feel naked, sparkly gold Bold Moves by Huda Beauty. Aegon is already blaring Lose Yourself and rapping along loudly, wearing his aviator sunglasses and flashing gang signs, his sandy blonde hair brutalized from the wind:

“I’ve got to formulate a plot, or end up in jail or shot,

Success is my only motherfuckin’ option, failure’s not,

Mom, I love you, but this trailer’s got to go,

I cannot grow old in Salem’s Lot,

So here I go, it’s my shot,

Feet, fail me not,

This may be the only opportunity that I got…”

“I told my dad you drive one of these,” you say as you climb into the Sebring. “He said they’re super unreliable.”

“Oh, absolutely,” Aegon replies. “But I have lots of money and very few responsibilities, so repairs aren’t a problem. And it cruises so smooth.” When he passes you a venti-sized iced vanilla latte, his right hand is shaking.

“You okay?”

Aegon flashes a grin. “Too much caffeine.” He whips away from the curb and drives towards the interchange of the 405, five chaotic lanes that fly northwest towards Beverly Hills. He is wearing his haphazard suit again, his jacket too big and his tie too skinny, reminding you of the Jehovah’s Witnesses who used to come proselytizing to your parents’ house until one day Tripp got fed up and told them you were Satanists. That is apparently sufficient to get a family on some kind of blacklist. Mom was mortified.

You are slurping your vanilla latte—very slowly, so your queasy stomach will not rebel—and trying to think of how to bring up the new scene situation when Aegon gets a call. Eminem vanishes from the Sebring’s speakers, and Aegon unplugs his phone from the aux and lifts it to his ear.

“Hello?” Aegon is merging onto the 405, crossing dotted white lines until he reaches the High Occupancy Vehicle lane along the concrete barrier. “Hey, Brando. What’s up?” A pause. “Why, what’s on Monday?”

You look over at Aegon: one hand on the steering wheel, hair whipping in the wind, black sunglasses that the early light glints off of, thoughtful creases etching into his forehead and around his eyes as he listens, endless blue sky above and miles passing anonymously below. It’s the morning of Thursday, July 3rd, and you have known him for three weeks, and you—who once made Mason wait months to do anything more than kiss you—think that if Aegon laid his palm on your thigh right now, only a whisper-thin layer of cotton between you and the warmth of his palm, it would feel not just good but right, safe, destined, and your drumming heartbeat would turn calm like the sea after a storm, and you would believe you were capable of anything he asked for.

I don’t want him to think I’m weak. I don’t want him to be disappointed in me.

“Right, yeah, I have to go to that,” Aegon says. There’s a lull as Brandon asks him something. “Because they keep trying to get Steve to do his own stunts and I don’t want him to end up with a broken back like Brendan Fraser. Uh huh. Sure. Oh, and remind Steve that he’s invited to the charity gala thing. Yeah. I don’t know, call Aemond and ask. No, I don’t want to call him, that’s why I’m telling you to do it. Okay. Cool, thanks. Hey, I have no idea when we’ll be done with the Maroon 5 thing so no need to wait at the office, you can take off at three or four or whenever. Sounds good. See ya.” Aegon hangs up and glances at you. “You’re invited too, by the way.”

You startle; your thoughts had been drifting. “Invited to what?”

“The gala in a few weeks. It’s to raise money for UNICEF. All my clients are invited.”

Just like they’re invited to his wedding in Turks and Caicos, you think, and you are hit by another pang of nausea so strong you put your latte down in the cup holder next to Aegon’s drink, something topped with whipped cream and a swirl of chocolate syrup. “I’d love to go! It’s like grown-up prom!”

Aegon shakes his head, but he’s smiling. Again, you are mulling over if and how to mention the new scene—does he already know? will he think I’m complaining?—but now traffic is thick and a Tesla cuts Aegon off, and he is focused on driving and reading the directions on the screen of the GPS mounted on the Sebring’s windshield, and you don’t want to distract him, and when he plugs his phone back into the aux there is a Red Hot Chili Peppers song that comes plucking out of the speakers as the mid-70s breeze ghosts across your skin like feather-light fingerprints: She Looks To Me.

The mansion is perched on the cliffside of Bendict Canyon, red-gold earth that glows under the rising sun, gnarled trees and shrubs twisting skyward from arid soil. The circular driveway is already crowded with trucks and vans, along with a few BMWs and Range Rovers. Aegon parks his convertible near the end of the driveway and then walks with you into the building: mid-century modern, glass walls and sand-colored marble floors to match the accents of amber and warm teak wood, jewel-tone velvet furniture and shag area rugs, statues that pretend to be gold and plants made of plastic. There are attendants brushing exotic cats, Ragdolls and Himalayans. There are people picking over trays of fruit and sandwiches, and others setting up light fixtures and placing marks on the floor with tiny Xs of white tape. You imagine yourself standing on them, and your knees and ankles feel weak as you toddle in your wedges.

Dan is here, and he parts a sea of assistants and sound technicians to cross the living room to greet you and Aegon, beaming and energetic and showing no indications of deception or malpractice. You watch as he and Aegon chat and laugh at each other’s jokes, tales of their most disastrous filming experiences, and you think: If Aegon trusts him, shouldn’t I?

Dan waves Maroon 5 over, and you meet the band but even as it’s happening you can feel yourself not committing it to memory, your skull too full of rattling anxiety, fog-like doubt. They are here to tour the set, but they seem halfhearted about it, and soon they find an excuse to leave; the band is filming their scenes on a different day and presumably have more interesting things to do. If I had millions of dollars, you think distractedly, I would want to be on a film set every day of my life. You are also introduced to the male actor, and he is very attractive in a tan, gym rat, California sort of way, and he seems perfectly polite as well. Aegon hovers nearby until the actor casually mentions his husband, then Aegon slides his sunglasses into his suit jacket and wanders off to pet the long-haired and ill-tempered exotic cats.

A copy of the script is placed in your hands and an assistant leads you upstairs to a small bedroom filled with racks of clothing and a station set up for hair and makeup. The costume designer and stylists work on you, and you make small talk so you won’t think too much about what’s about to happen and start hyperventilating. The first scene, blessedly, is fully-clothed: blush pink Prada ballgown, four-inch heels, your updo gracefully falling loose, dramatic fake eyelashes and inky mascara tears snaking down your cheeks, a screaming match with your supposed soon-to-be-ex lover. You and one of the makeup artists chatter about favorite eyeshadow palettes as she paints your skin like a canvas: a base of matte pink Love Letter by Anastasia Beverly Hills, the sheen of dusk-colored Brink by Natasha Denona.

When you’re ready, the costume designer says: “I don’t think they need you quite yet. You can stay in here, if you’d like.” She smiles, believing she is doing you a favor. “I know you actors need your space to get into character.” And then before you can think of how to protest, she herds the stylists out of the bedroom and you are left alone with the poltergeist of the near-future, cold pockets that make you shiver and the racket of furniture being rearranged in other rooms. You leaf through the script and then, when your hands start shaking, leave it on the low platform bed with a geometric print blanket.

Knowing you shouldn’t, you go to the racks of clothing and paw through garments until you find the lingerie for the bathtub scene: all black lace, all semi-transparent, and while clever camera angles and post-production editing will conceal anything elicit from the audience, there will be no such discretion here. And even if only the essential crew is present for the scene—though there’s no indication it will be a closed set—that’s still a cinematographer, a key grip, a camera operator, a sound technician…and Dan the director, of course.

Your family’s words come rushing back to you, a chorus of skepticism and caution and an underlying conviction that no one could want you for the right reasons:

If she wants to embarrass herself, let her.

Well, be careful, darling.

Who knows what his intentions are.

Men can be so creepy.

You walk towards the bed in a daze and then sink to the floor, backing up until you hit the mattress, hiding there in the small shadow, a sanctuary from the daylight that is flooding in through the glass walls. You feel like you can’t breathe, like your vision is going dark, like the chambers of your heart are splitting open, and yet you know from all your father’s stories of people showing up at the ER erroneously believing they are dying that this is all in your head, and you force yourself to take deep, slow breaths so you won’t pass out.

I can’t do this.

But you have to.

Everyone’s right. I’m not the kind of girl who makes it in Hollywood. Not exceptional enough, not bold enough, not beautiful enough, not willing to do what it takes.

But you’re not ready to give up yet.

There is a knock at the door. “Hey, you camera-ready, sunshine?” Aegon says from outside.

You press your curled index fingers just beneath your eyes to try to stop them from watering. “Yeah. Two minutes.” But your voice cracks, and now he knows something is wrong.

“Are you naked?”

You sniffle. “No.”

Aegon opens the door, and then he has crossed the room and is kneeling down on the floor beside you in his black suit, and he’s completely mystified because he’s never seen you this way before, and he’s half-reaching for you but he’s also hesitating, not knowing if you want to be touched. “What happened? What’s wrong with you?”

“I think…um…” Another sniffle. “I guess I’m just a little freaked out about the scene they added.”

Aegon is confounded. “What scene?”

You reach up onto the bed behind you and fumble around until your fingers grasp the script. You give it to Aegon and he hurriedly skims through the pages. When he stumbles across the scene in question, he goes entirely still and his murky blue eyes turn dark and hard and focused in a way you’ve learned is rare for him.

He asks without lifting his gaze from the paper: “When did you find out about this?”

“Yesterday night. Dan brought the script to my apartment.”

Aegon looks at you. “He showed up at your house?”

“Yeah,” you whimper pathetically.

“Did he touch you?”

“What? No, nothing like that. He stayed in the hallway.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I’m sorry. I kind of assumed you knew.” A pause. “And I didn’t want to disappoint you.”

Aegon, still clutching the script, stands and bolts for the bedroom door.

“No!” you beg in a whisper, lunging after him and grabbing his empty hand. “Aegon, no, I can do it. I don’t want to lose the job. I’ll do whatever they want. Aegon? Aegon, please, I don’t want to give up, I don’t want to go home a failure—”

“Don’t talk,” Aegon says, low and violent. “Let me handle it.” And before you can reply, he has ripped away from you and is through the doorway, down the staircase, into the living room where people are gathered under bright lights and making last-minute adjustments to furniture, décor, equipment. Exotic cats lounge on the velvet sofas. Your faux lover paces in a flawlessly-tailored white suit; he smiles when he sees you, then it swiftly dies.

Dan is chortling with two other men and leaning against a wall. Aegon rages to him, shoves him so hard Dan stumbles, strikes the wall two inches from his face. Aegon’s knuckles come away bloody; there is now a dent in the wall marred with a stain of crimson. An assistant screams; everyone in the room is gawking.

Dan is not just stunned by irate. “What the fuck, man?! That’s coming out of her paycheck!”

“How about we take it from your life insurance policy?”

“What is your problem?!”

“No, you know what you did!” Aegon shouts, and Dan is bigger than him but Aegon is seething, fearless, unrelenting, giving him no space. He balls up the script and pitches it at Dan; it bounces off his temple. “You knew any changes to the script were supposed to go through me and you hid this, and that’s fucked up, and it’s not happening. Take the scene out.”

Dan throws his arms wide in disbelief. “You said no nudity and no sex scenes, and this is neither. I didn’t con you, man.”

“Don’t act stupid. You went to her house and you sprung this on her and you thought you could get away with breaking the rules, and maybe you’ve done this before and no one stopped you because it’s just innocuous enough for you to have plausible deniability. But you’re not going to do it to me, and you’re not going to do it to my girl.”

“You think I need her?!” Dan yells, as if it’s preposterous. “She’s a nobody, she’s nothing special! She should be down on her knees thanking Baby Jesus that she’s on this set right now. You think I don’t have ten other actresses I could call?”

“So call them,” Aegon says. “But you’ll have to reschedule the shoot, and I know you’re paying a thousand bucks an hour for this place.”

“Hey dumbass, I spent over a thousand dollars on wine last night—”

“And I will never work with you again. And neither will Aemond, or Helaena, or Daeron, or any of our people.”

For the first time, Dan looks uncertain, stymied, wary. He studies Aegon as his crew avert their eyes awkwardly. On the sofas, the Ragdolls and Himalayans lick themselves and swish their fluffy tails. Aegon glances back at you. Your eyes are wide, glossy pools of pleading.

I don’t want to lose the job. Please, please, don’t make me give up on the dream yet.

“Look,” Aegon tells Dan, now level and diplomatic. “Do the right thing. You fucked up, you own it. Take the scene out and we’re cool. You get your music video shot on schedule. We get the originally agreed-upon terms. Everyone goes home happy. You’re a very talented director and I’ve only ever heard great things about you. I’d hate to have to start correcting people when they’re singing your praises.”

There is a long stretch of silence, and then Dan chuckles and holds up his hands as if surrendering. “Fine, no problem, we’ll axe the scene. It was just an idea, and maybe I got carried away. That was my bad. I had no idea you’d be so touchy about it.”

Aegon smiles, thin and tight and ingenuine. “I’ve been known to be sensitive.” He holds out his right hand; blood drips from his knuckles. An assistant drops to the marble floor and scrambles around wiping up the mess, viscous and scarlet. “No hard feelings?”

Dan shakes Aegon’s wounded hand. “No hard feelings.” Then he marvels at the blood in his palm and an assistant descends to disinfect him. Another moves an abstract painting so it covers the damage to the wall.

Aegon returns to you, and your pulse is slow and hushed, and your breathing is effortless, and you are transfixed; you cannot look away from him, you cannot believe he’s real. “So, uh,” he says, quietly so the rest of the room won’t hear. “No need to worry about that anymore. You want to take ten minutes to chill and get in the zone, and then we’ll get started?”

“No, I can go right now,” you tell him.

“Okay.” Aegon turns to Dan. “She’s ready.” Then he points at the male actor. Aegon probably doesn’t mean it to, but it comes out sounding like a threat. “You ready?”

The actor nods frenetically. “I’m ready!”

“Great,” Aegon says, and he steps out of the shot, and you step into it, and by the time the camera rolls you aren’t you anymore. You are a woman who desperately loves the man in front of her—instantly transformed from a stranger to a soulmate—and you are betrayal and jealousy and loss and wrath, and while your pink Prada dress is formal and wondrous your body is ever-contorting to be weak, vulnerable, breaking as you realize he is leaving.

Then you are clawing your way up the staircase in a heavy fur coat that seems to swallow you, then you are in a bedroom making unanswered phone calls in a lavender silk nightgown, then you are in the kitchen shattering plates and glasses in a neon green mini-dress, then you are in a leopard-print robe petting the exotic cats in the living room, then you are drowning in the swimming pool in a black empire-waist evening gown. Aegon follows you around the mansion and stands wordlessly in corners, chomping on his Juicy Fruit gum, holding the towels that assistants bring him against his knuckles; during every wardrobe change, he waits just outside the bedroom door.

The shoot isn’t done until after sunset, and you thank everyone profusely before you leave: the crew, the male actor, and especially Dan. You still need him to promote and release the music video, and assuming he doesn’t hate you after Aegon’s outburst, he’ll be a valuable reference.

When Aegon speeds his Sebring out of the mansion’s circular driveway and onto winding cliffside roads presided over by the towering shadows of palm trees, the first thing he says to you is: “You are never working with that man again.”

“Okay,” you agree immediately. And before you can say anything else he has put his phone to his ear. Faintly, you can hear ringing, and then a voice that you think you recognize as Brandon’s.

“Hi,” Aegon snaps. “What do I pay you for?”

“Aegon, please don’t be mad at him,” you say quietly. He’s driving very, very fast. The streetlights race by in a blur, the night wind tears like talons through your hair.

Aegon ignores you. “Why was her address on the stuff we sent to the Maroon 5 video people?” A moment passes. “No, it clearly wasn’t redacted because Dan Sacco showed up at her apartment last night. Yeah. That’s what I’m saying. Well, open your email and find out.”

“Aegon, he’s supposed to be off work right now. He’s at home, I’m fine, it’s not important.”

“Shh.” And then, after a long pause, Aegon says to Brandon: “Oh. I get it. Okay, yeah, my mistake. Sorry about that. Enjoy the 4th tomorrow, I’ll pay you extra for this conversation. Alright. You too. Bye.” Aegon sighs and looks over at you, as if he’s asking for forgiveness. “I mislabeled the PDFs. Brando thought he sent them the redacted one but he actually sent the original. He should have double-checked anyway, he usually does, but I was rushing him to get it out because I was trying to make sure you got the job. So…it’s my fault and I’m really sorry.”

“It’s fine, Aegon,” you say softly.

“It’s not fine.” And you don’t have the opportunity to correct him because Aegon is scrolling through his contacts, and despite his earlier aversion to calling his brother Aemond, soon Aegon is recounting what happened and warning Aemond to never work with Dan, never recommend him to actors, never sell him a script, that Dan is dead to all of them as soon as the music video is officially released.

Aegon merges onto the 10 and heads east towards his office in Elysian Park. You don’t wonder why he’s not taking you south to Harbor Gateway, because you don’t want to go home yet. It’s well after 9 p.m., and the freeway is vast and open, silhouettes of skyscrapers and palm trees, reflective green signs indicating routes to Pasadena, San Bernadino, Santa Ana, San Pedro. Under the streetlights that arch overhead, you can see that the knuckles on Aegon’s right hand have turned violet and maroon, bruises down to the bone. When he reaches Downtown, Aegon’s Sebring takes the 110 north, and you are reminded of the route you drove to Elysian Park on the day you first met him, a girl with no prospects that he believed in anyway.

Aegon doesn’t hang up the phone until he’s at the curb outside the half-duplex he rents, a blinking blue neon sign that reads Targ Talent Agency in one window. He rests his wounded hand on the back of your seat when he twists around to look as he’s parallel parking. In the lobby, he goes to the minifridge behind Brandon’s desk and gets two green glass bottles of Perrier, passes you one of them, continues to his office and collapses into his chair, staring up at you as he swigs his Perrier and drops of condensation fall down onto his suit. He thumps his shoes up onto his desk, characteristically littered with gum wrappers and manilla folders and loose papers, framed photographs and his recently-acquired ceramic bowl of Honeycrisp apples. You are still standing.

“That happens sometimes,” Aegon says after a while. “Just so you know going forward, because I failed to make it clear before, script changes always go through me. I negotiate with the other party and if any modifications are approved I tell you about them, not the other way around. And unless you’ve cultivated some kind of working relationship with them, directors and producers should not be reaching out to you personally.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Why are you apologizing?”

You aren’t really sure. “I guess I should have known better.”

Aegon smirks, tired and cynical. “I told you this place is a curse.”

“You tried to warn me,” you concede.

“Do you believe me now?”

“No. I still want to be in Los Angeles.” I still want to be here with you.

He considers you, his head tilted thoughtfully to the side. “You did a really good job today, sunshine. Despite everything.”

“I hope so.”

He gives you a wry half-smile and takes another gulp of his Perrier. You haven’t opened yours yet. You are wearing your street clothes from this morning, TOMS wedges, unceremonious olive green sundress. Your hair is still damp from the scene in the pool and smells like chlorine. Aegon sighs deeply and kneads the area just above his right eye with his fingertips, as if he has a headache.

“Aegon?” you say, and he looks up at you. “Thank you for what you did for me.”

“I’d do it for anyone.”

“You’d almost break your knuckles?”

He glances at the back of his hand as if he had forgotten about the damage incurred there: clotted blood, subterranean bruises. “No, that was just for you.”

You set your unopened bottle of Perrier and your purse on his desk. Then you step out of your wedges, reach beneath your sundress, hook your thumbs under the waistband of your panties and pull them down to your ankles. You kick them away and leave them on the scuffed wood floor with your wedges. Aegon is watching you, his lips parted and his dark blue eyes amazed, as you walk to his desk and sit on the edge, pluck a Honeycrisp apple out of the bowl there, and take a large, famished bite. When saccharine juice spills down your lips, you don’t wipe it away.

Slowly, Aegon’s own mouth blooms into a smile. “I was wondering if it was mutual.”

He stands, harvests the apple from your hand, buries his teeth in the wet yielding flesh in the same place where you bit it. Then he lets the apple tumble to the floor as his hands rise to your face and he kisses you, and if you once discovered that this was easy with Mason then here it is instinctive, necessary, sheltering, and you have never felt so safe, and you have never been so sure of anything. You are unfastening the large buttons that run down the front of your sundress. Aegon is shrugging off his suit jacket and opening his shirt, his chest and belly soft and warm, no distance between you as you lie back across the desk and Aegon climbs on top of you, tasting like apples and Juicy Fruit and night air. Folders and papers cascade in a flurry. The bowl of apples is shoved off the ledge and shatters. Photographs are knocked to the floor, their glass panes splintering.

You are afraid only once, when Aegon unclasps your bra and tosses it away, but then he’s touching and kissing you there, lips and tongue and teeth, and his need is so palpable, and you can’t believe you ever considered scalpels and stitches. “I knew you were perfect,” he whispers against your throat, and when his war-torn hand travels between your legs you are already slick and starving, and you tell him you can’t wait.

You glance down as he rummages around in a drawer of his desk and eventually—seconds that feel like an eternity—finds a few condoms in silvery wrappers. “I’m sorry you have to use one,” you say, breathing heavily as you lie beneath him, not wanting to ruin this. “I’m sorry I’m not on the pill or—”

“I’d wrap up anyway. I’m serious about the no kids thing.”

And then he’s easing himself into you, and it’s better than it’s ever been because you’ve never wanted it more, and you’re trying not to moan too loudly because you don’t know if there’s anyone home in the other half of the rundown little duplex, and when your eyes flutter open you see flashes of the mint green walls, beams of headlights raking across the windows, gleaming emerald shards of your Perrier bottle that has tumbled to the floor and broken there, hemorrhaging a sea of carbonated water. It’s not a climax but a plateau so high you can’t think, can’t speak, your fingers in Aegon’s hair and your hips moving with his, your legs linked around him and his voice in your ear, is this okay for you, is this good, and you are nodding and gasping and letting him take you to a place where you can have everything, magic that usually only exists on pages and screens.

Aegon finishes—too soon, with some embarrassment—then pulls back and is alarmed to find tears on your cheeks. He wipes them away with his hands, bewildered, concerned. “What are you doing? Don’t cry, sunshine.”

You laugh shakily. “I’m fine, I swear, it’ll go away. I just get emotional.”

“Always?”

“When it’s good.”

Aegon kisses you, sweet and slow, and then he climbs off the desk and flings the condom somewhere, grabs your hips, drags you towards to him. You sit up when you realize what he’s doing.

“Oh no,” you say. “Wait, no, you don’t have to. Don’t worry about it.”

Aegon furrows his brow at you impatiently. “Do you want to come or not?”

“Well yeah, but it can take a while. So I’ll just do it myself later.”

“Shut up and put your legs over my shoulders.” He yanks you closer and you fall back onto the desk, now damp and slippery with perspiration, and you are grinning up at the ceiling, astonished and euphoric and a little sheepish, not expecting it to work but then being overwhelmed by him, coaxed into it like tumbling down the crumbling wall of a canyon, plummeting into inevitable and effortless gravity, the earth disintegrating beneath your clawing fingers when you try to catch yourself. Then Aegon takes your hand and shows you that he is hard again.

“More,” you plead in a whisper, and you go with him down to the floor, careful to avoid jagged flecks of glass and fragments of the shattered ceramic bowl, and you are helping him roll a new condom on because he’s taking too long and you can’t wait, and you’re both laughing as you straddle him, and then it becomes something quiet and slow and indelibly heavy, imprints in sand that eons of waves could not wash away, and afterwards you lie together on the floor for a long time, not saying anything, not tethered to reality, drifting in a bone-weary mirage of nightscape chemicals until the sun will rise and paint the world in color again.

You get up and start looking for your wedges. You have to shake them to get pebbles of green glass out. Aegon, still lying on the wood floor, watches you; you smirk guiltily. “I should probably go home soon. I have to be at Cold Stone tomorrow morning.”

Aegon seems surprised. “You’re working on the 4th of July?”

“Only until 6:30. Then Baela and I are going to see the fireworks.”

“And you’re driving to work, right? Not walking?”

“Right,” you promise.

Aegon groans as he drags himself to his feet, pulls on his suit and misbuttons his shirt, surveys the damage done to his office and runs his hands through his disheveled blonde hair. He shakes his head and looks a little sad, vacant, meditative. Does he regret it? you worry; but then Aegon turns to you and smiles. “Let’s get going.”

The long-gone daylight has been replaced by streetlights and headlights and coils of neon, glowing through the darkness like manmade stars, young synthetic constellations. As the Sebring sails down the ghost town of the 110 at midnight, Aegon passes you his phone. “Listen to whatever you want.”

You scroll through his Spotify playlist; there are five hundred songs, lots of Alanis Morissette and Pearl Jam and Third Eye Blind and the Red Hot Chili Peppers. You remember listening to one of their songs on the way to the mansion in Beverly Hills this morning; Aegon must really like them. You choose another Red Hot Chili Peppers song at random, one you’ve never heard of before, Hard To Concentrate. The hypnotic guitar chords spill from the speakers, and as you gaze dreamily over six abandoned southbound lanes, you can see on the periphery of your vision that Aegon keeps glancing over at you, his hair flying in the wind and his bruised right hand resting on the steering wheel.

Aegon parks illegally in a fire lane on the curb outside your apartment. “Hey,” he says when you open the passenger’s door, and you stop and return to him. “I’ll see you soon, alright?”

You check the analog clock on the dashboard, a black box of green numbers. It’s just after midnight on July 4th. You murmur as you kiss Aegon one last time, your lips curled into a smile: “Happy Independence Day.”

Then you float up the concrete steps and into your apartment building, higher than the sun at noon.

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dsandrvk · 1 year ago

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Sunday, February 18 - Polar Plunge and Skontorp Cove (Paradise Harbor)

What a day! We were supposed to scenic cruise down the Neumayer Channel but we were awakened to an announcement of Orcas off of the port bow, and we were dressed and on the deck in less than five minutes. We spent at least an hour following them from a respectable distance taking lots of photographs and watching with binoculars. Our resident expert later explained about all the different ecotypes of Orcas, and thought our pod was a "B" type. There are southern and northern Orcas and they don't mix, and the different ecotypes are different sizes and slightly different body styles and also eat different prey. For some, penguins are on the menu, while others prefer seals, although I'm sure none will pass up an easy meal.

We never did get to the Neumayer Channel, but slowly cruised into one arm of Paradise Harbor (which is not a harbor, but an area where three channels come together), and the wind completely died down for a while, so the glaciers and mountains were perfectly reflected in the sea. A touch of sun highlighted a couple of ridges, and then disappeared into a little light rain and snow flurries.

An announcement was made that today we would have the Polar Plunge for anyone who wanted to participate. As it was described, it can be a few seconds of agony for a lifetime of bragging, so of course we had to do it. The ship had stopped by then, and a Zodiac was positioned just like when we leave the ship, but this time was set up for two jumpers at a time. We were called down by color group, and the Landing Zone (the place where we change our boots, clean our items after landings, etc.) was full of folks in robes and our cruise director, James in a penguin suit, grooving to some music. A bar was set up (shots for courage - my choice was tequila), and we waited our turn to disrobe down to our swimsuits, go down the stairs and get ready. They put a weight belt around us (this was probably the worst part, because it was cold and wet on my bare back), but we quickly stepped onto the Zodiac, were clipped into a rope, stepped up onto the tube and jumped! One of the crew filmed us with my phone and the ship photographer took pictures from in front of us (I haven't seen those shots yet - I wonder what my expression was). The water was cold, but by the time I climbed back up the ladder, the adrenaline was pumping and I no longer was chilled. Just putting the robe back on kept me warm, along with another shot for celebration. Turns out there are two kinds of people on the ship - those that wouldn't miss this experience for the world, and those who would never consider it an option. 100 of us were in the first group - a fairly common percentage.

Since we were already wet and in our swimsuits, it seemed like a good idea to head to one of the hot tubs and swap stories with our fellow passengers. We have met a lot of really nice people on this cruise - because of the expedition nature of it, the passengers seem to skew younger and considerably more active than the usual cruise type. Most of the folks here take the stairs rather than the elevators - on other trips we have often felt like we were the only ones walking up and down. And this crowd is far more casual than on standard cruises - not sloppy, but most folks wear slacks and sweaters or flannel shirts and puffy vests rather than more formal outfits, even to dinner.

During lunch we sailed further into Paradise Harbor to an area called Skontorp Cove, and did a wonderful Zodiac cruise past another summertime Argentinian base (unoccupied this year) to an Antarctic Shag nesting area, and past some really great ice bergs. The Shags have pretty much fledged, so mostly there were just youngsters left, but they were also intermingled with Antarctic Terns. The cliffs here show blue-green streaks of copper, and a lot of vegetative growth - probably encouraged by all the natural fertilizer.

On the way back to the ship, there was a Zodiac with a Seabourn flag (and James the penguin), and when we got near they were handing out glasses of champagne! We toasted being in Paradise, and headed back to the ship, while the next few groups took their tours.

Then before dinner, we had a "sail-away" with more champagne and caviar on the back main deck. By now, everyone knows that events scheduled for outside will be happening outside, barring a major storm, so we all dress warmly. And although it is Antarctica, it's a lot warmer than the average Chicago winter!

Tomorrow we will hit our southernmost point, and it will be our last day down here. We're hoping to do one last Zodiac cruise in the morning and one last landing in the afternoon before turning west and then north towards the Drake Passage. We headed down through the Lemaire Channel this evening, but the clouds came down, so it was hard to see the spectacular mountains surrounding us, but it is starting to really feel like Antarctica.

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rad-review-of-gigs · 7 years ago

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Prodigy

Brixton Academy, 22.12.2017

Always speeding, never reversing, like unbridled, joystick mayhem

Six number one albums to the good, lurid dystopia has rarely been as thrilling as The Prodigy and the Academy is crackling with anticipation as the band finally steps out under the stage's roving searchlights. Vocalist Keith Flint, still wilfully perverse with mohican and black eye liner, prowls the stage in an adolescent slouch, like an indolent hyena scavenging off 1997's Fat of the Land, braces dangling torpidly by his knees. Alongside him the avowedly macho MC Maxim stokes all the 'hot and sweaty warriors on the floor".

Everyone hopes the music will change their picture. However the opening salvos, though reassuringly demented, are a confusion of noise that belie the guile of the group's quarter of a century of studio samplings. 'Wild Frontier' stands alone in this briny chaos as having some shape and coherence. 2009's 'Omen' was first up and fortunately the writing is not on the wall, as the set gradually mutates into the kind of shamanistic experience that avid clubbers yearn for. Whether this is through being bludgeoned, as promised, into another dimension or the sound has simply been tweaked down a notch, The Prodigy's timeworn breakneck and careering fusion of punk and techno, reminiscent of a video game carjack, is soon in cruise control.

The band shrewdly dispenses with a truncated 'Firestarter' early on, as if to say you're here to live this gig not just wait for an anthem, and from that point the malevolent hedonism assumes its distinctive form.

A delighted crowd parties frenziedly to the ominous, snarling 'Breathe' and there is barely a moment to exhale before Rob Holliday, a prototype Mick Jones inhabiting the corner of the stage, outs the heavy guitar riff of 'Voodoo People', Other gems are the pounding 'Get Your Fight On' and recent single 'Need Some 1'. After the ragga of 'Poison' the rapturous adulation almost kisses the ceiling. So Maxim hunkers the flock, like the raving crab of Fat Of The Land's iconic album cover, for a wash in the ethereal, levantine interlude inside 'Smack My Bitch Up', before erupting it from the sea bed for a final burst of hysteria.

The encore is a mission back through time to the group's undistilled dance roots with club classic, 'No Good' and the reggae-infused 'Out of Space'. As The Prodigy vanish in the sulphurous cloud of dry ice the audience is left to float alone the chorus of "I'm gonna send you to outer space to find another race."

Suitably skewed with its tilted floor, the Brixton Academy is sold out for three nights of this explosive delirium and, in an era of snowballing institutional decay and social entropy, the punk spirit of The Prodigy could be the zeitgeist once more and ensures the event is more than an outmoded and corroded panto. "I've got the poison, the remedy, the rhythmical remedy" screams Maxim. Music indeed for a jilted generation.

Words: Adrian Cross

Photos: Richard Gray

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nigel-oh-nigel · 2 years ago

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I Remember You

Chapter 1: accidence happens but acceptance don't always.

Do you believe in destiny? For me, it would be a very unfortunate obstacle to avoid if it does exist.

One could argue that destiny isn’t set in stone, that you are the one who can choose the best path for yourself. And i do agree with that.

What if, with certainty, a horrible series of events were destined to be lined before you?

A person threatened by such a calamity would choose to fight that pin pointed path and rip away from fate. They would deny it and avoid conviction, complain until the problem ceases to be. Such as the nature to survive, searching for a hole until the end.

But what if willingly, beyond all logic, you couldn’t say no? Despite the troubling circumstances, you rather fall deeper.

The roads through this busy city were icy and slippery, despite its ill conditions, cars still cruised across the street kicking up slushy ice onto the outer pavement as if quick-moving knives leading through water. Large piles of crushed flakes caked high and lined the sidewalk. Remembering the weather report, this was about four days' worth of fall.

You could imagine the outcome of so many snow days to be inconvenient, but it barely hinders the hardworking lifestyle of this city.

This amount of snow wasn’t what I was used to. My frail skin easily bumped up to the harsh still chilled air. Luckily it wasn’t windy, I'd snap to pieces if i walked too far. Coming from a more southern region where the air is, most of the time, dry, many are often bliss to the sight of seeing the trees, buildings, the ground and the roads glazed in this white wonder.

My childhood consisted of futilely waiting for a few flakes of snow. Any amount would have made me dazzled with joy, even if there was very little fun anyone could do with the amount we would receive. The kids would talk and hope for it before losing that hope as it neared March.

I know a place like New York would have an over abundant of this white stuff nearly all winter long. In fact, because of how busy its people can become and how dangerous traveling looks to be for them, people here have a deep complication with ice and will strive to get rid of it.

I guess we’d have trouble as well. Our little town would honestly freeze over if we had these inches of snow. Our fragile road system could crumble and fall apart to the first sighting of clear ice. The schools will shut down and few would dare risk their lives traveling to the stores for any minor reason.

The roads would be mostly vacate excluding the factory workers who bosses couldn’t care less if they died getting there.

Speaking of work, this job. Mister Young never told me that the interview would be so… personal, and being that i am far from home, it actually came off as creepy. Like I'm going to be abducted, without notice, at any moment, but maybe its just my imagination.

You see, i was offered this job position by a rich guy named Davidson Young, known widely for his mass production in green friendly vehicles, commercial to the public as well as to companies that demands savvy transporters.

If hired, I'll become an errand boy, a well-paid errand boy who’ll handle the task of suppling one of his many residential homes and satisfying the occupancy in it. Maybe it's more of a butler’s employment.

The questions, at first, were standard, only asking about existing past work experiences that might relate to the job I'm applying for.

I’ve worked at the store my parents run for four years, but getting a reference from my parents would be as valuable to them as asking about my mom’s cake recipe. Only a horrible son, or a son who had life crushing parents would get such a bad review. I doubt the employers cared for whatever gray that fell in, not that i had such a bad relationship with my parents.

The questions then evolved into hobbies or skills. Asking me about hobbies is really needlessly scraping for something, isn’t it? Being the monster company “Ventumio”, you’d think they’d aim for more professional level interns. Maybe someone that came from a more outstanding school than me, a person whose school can't afford to replace ten-year-old computers, and equipment our teachers been practically begging for their lessons.

No matter if i helped someone out or not, i doubt Mr. Young’s people will find a need for me on any level, even if it’s just helping to maintain a portion of the house. I was told that they had a lot of applicates already, so they didn’t want to spend too long on me.

Whatever. On the better side, a trip out of town wasn’t too bad. I had the pleasure of rooming with my older cousin, who moved up here a few years back. His personality was always hard to pin. It's in-between spastic, well-expressed, inner monologues that obsess over figurines from some shows he likes, and a monotone, laidback approach towards everything else living in the moment as if he was only inserted nearby to look and gleam.

He gives the BEST advice, but you kind of have to pry it out of him. For someone who’s “there” at times, other than his grave shift job, he does go out a lot, nearly every day. I tagged along with him once my three days being up here and found out that he was going to a pretty cool comic store. Apparently, he goes there so much that manager gives him the employee discount whenever he buys.

My cousin would joke and say that the comic store was his volunteer service for nerds everywhere. Though he doesn’t do any work as far as i can tell, I was told by one of his “friends” that he would sometimes dress up like a wizard, as he stood, smiled sleepily, and did nothing.

If somehow, the job did fall into my lap, there would be another problem to face later down the road.

It seems as though I've misunderstood the nature of the job. The position requires you to live within the residence, that may not boat well for my parents who barely allowed me to go in the first place.

They have been not only calling me constantly, but my cousin as well. Dad called me for the second time today, half an hour ago, and it isn’t far of a reach to expect a call from mom as soon as she gets on break.

I told dad the simplistic of how it went but didn’t really bring up any of my festering concerns the interview made me feel. He would either demand that I jump on a plane at the very moment of worry, or he would likely jump on a plane coming to get me.

I think there’s no need to worry. Living on the property and being within close corners of people, it’s natural to wonder about my contacts, right? If I… might be dating at the moment, how often I'm in contact with people. Just the… basics.

Who am i kidding, that was bothering. Mr. Young did give me his number just in case i had questions, but he told me, at times, it would be hard to reach him. A time to call never crossed yet, but when I get back to my cousin’s apartment, it would be good to get some sort of clarity.

Walking seemed to be the safest method of travel as far as snow is involved, but since leaving the building of said job review, I felt off. Was it really that necessary to go that deep into my personal life?

The moral dilemmas question was just the weirdest.

If I could betray a coworker for a large sum of money?

How grey was my perspectives on breaking the law?

Have you taken any self-defense classes?

Would you consider yourself a good person? If so, then why?

How do you feel around dead bodies?

With extreme stretches of the imagination, I could link a vague reason to each bizarre question, but should I run? Calling my parents and tipping them a bit might be best, but there’s no way they’d allow me to stay an hour more after hearing this.

I'll think about it and try to watch out for suspicious stuff in the meantime.

To be fair, it was pretty cold at the moment about 2:00 in the evening, but the temperature was already dropping, resting now at fifteen or so Fahrenheit. On the sidewalk with me there were few people traveling in these conditions, about twenty-ish people scattered around coming and from me.

A man appeared from the corner of my eye pacing himself just a bit quicker in his steps than I did. the well-kept styled mid-trimmed haircut aligned with his aura of being a well statured man. A long fancy beige pea coat fell just above his knees, protecting the suit that laid under it.

He didn’t seem as though he was late, the expression on his face was too casual for that. Still, to his side he carried a workbag that suggested that he was either going to or leaving work.

I'd guess work related reasons would be the only thing that would drag anyone out the house, but now thinking about it, Christmas was just around the corner, two weeks from now. Though the late shoppers are common, I'd imagine the early birds would get a jump on things when they can.

Surely this man didn’t come out for that reason, but maybe some others did.

My eyes glanced away from him for just a moment to study others who were out. There was another man who worn too little clothes and was suffering from it, clattering his teeth and bracing himself in a hug.

I could hear slight mumbling from him since he was crossing the street very close by me.

“Stupid weather…”

He faded behind me.

My mind trailed off to wonder why he was out here, but was torn away by another person, this time a woman with a fuzzy head and matching earmuffs. She was bundled up in practical, thick layers of coats and sweaters.

Another person behind her was tall and muscular wearing mostly a thin overcoat that wasn’t as thick as what I could handle in this weather.

The entire that I had on was a shirt, a sweater, and a jacket. It blocked me from the elements decently, only allowing me to feel cold air at the very edges from any openings of my wear.

Strolling, kicking up my feet just a bit higher than my shin level, a simple, mindless thought came to me.

Why do we go through this?

Clearly the world can’t stop because of a few feet of snow. As long as the buildings stand people will be called to work. no one would turn down a workday because that would mean no income. That's just how it was. Still, it wouldn’t hurt to wish everyone luck on their travels.

Before I could enlighten myself to an epiphany that wasn’t going to come to me anytime soon, something sudden and worrisome caught my attention.

The man who walked with an expression that suggested that his heart and mind was already in his office doing desk work and making careful business decisions, stumbled backwards fighting for balance but failed to even withstand the forces of gravity for half a second, hit the ground.

As you could guess, this man who seemed to never accept a lesser hand dealt to him already showed an enormous amount of spite, rage, disbelief and a noticeable instinctive urge to do harm.

To whom? Well, it turns out that he didn’t fall completely on his own. There was a boy a decent amount younger than me, maybe twelve laying on top of the toppled man.

The boy eyed the man with an enduring, sincere grin as though blind to the cold, damped man’s bent hostile frown. If this was a cartoon, surely smoke would bellow from the glaring man’s head.

“Sorry there, sir. I didn’t mean it.” The boy dragged his words out but froze with hesitation to remove himself.

As if to dig a deeper, more definite consequential hole that would be hard to crawl out from, the wide-eyed quirky boy reached for the man's shoulder to dusk the lingering debris of ice on his arm, with hard slaps.

The man who finally recovered from whatever ill violent thoughts possibly crossing his mind finally spoke. Loudly, the business barked an order at the boy to get off, then latched a hand to the boy’s shoulder, fixing him in place. You could see nails penetrate the skin of the minor’s arm, a cold glare to match.

The explosive man gave a quick, forceful jerk to the boy’s arm to remove him, yet his gripe broke first before the boy budged an inch.

“You little fuck! Get your ass off me before I break your arm.” still upholding a bitter tone, the tempered man settled for a threat despite already trying and failing to do major harm. “You ruined my coat and suit. Do you want me to break your teeth in for this?”

The genuinely confused young teen gawked at the heated older, less than gentle, gentleman, then made an effort to remove himself off of him.

“that’s not a nice thing to say. Bro says you should be polite to people. I said I was sorry…” the boy lifted his bottom lip to his nose, childishly, then bowed his head firmly at the man apolitically.

“My shoes you little fucker! My clothes! What are you talking about?”

To his chagrin, a frown formed, then widened over the ever-puzzled kid’s face; nonetheless, he extended a hand to the souring man. “Um… let me help you up.”

With a clawing motion, the also childish man snatched for the shamed teen’s upper arm, ripping and pulling down to get up. The physically abled boy took it nonchalantly, still showing no visible signs of suffering.

“Wow! That's some grip for a guy who works at an office. You must do a little working out too.” the delighted boy remarked, praising him. “If you pull too hard, you might rip my arm off, ha ha.”

As if bothered that again he failed to make this dorpie kid whine in some way, the man fussed again, loudly and shamelessly.

“Where the hell are your parents? Don't you lie to me.”

It was subtle, but there was a sobering glow washing over the otherwise meek boy’s face. He sorrowfully laughed. “My parents died a few years ago. It's just me and my brother now. He's busy right now, so I'll have to- um… handle this myself.”

“You better not be lying boy. Where is your brother? Get him here now!”

“The name is drake.” the boy, drake quipped with a smile. “i said that I'd handle it please. Just tell me how.”

The now inquisitive man paused, mostly from the feeling of being dumbfounded by the hopeful drake. The once mostly boiled, but now mildly more simmered man clashed his teeth together.

“PAY. FOR. IT.” he chanted, fuming at the mouth. “A stupid kid doesn’t have the money to pay for my clothes.”

The naïve early teen cocked a brow to his words, then squeezed his lips together showing a small amount of defeat. “Ah, how much would it cost?”

The man rolled his eyes, adding the damage with an invisible calculator. “400. Maybe 500 for dry cleaner and su-”

“HA HA HA HA!” drake, after hearing the outrageous inflated cost, burst into a fit of laughter, then glanced up at the man with a friendly grin. “Nah. We can’t afford that. It would take years for me to pay you that much.”

Drake's laugh tapered little by little as he occasionally seen the growing bitter look of the dead serious businessman. “Wait, you were serious. No no, we can’t afford that.”

Drake dug into his worn pants pocket, then fished out five dollars. “Here. Please consider this.”

Like a bee sting, an aggressive straightened hook of the man’s hand swiftly struck the money away. The money drifted, gliding to the snowy pavement. To add insult to injury, a car came spilling snow from under its wheels. The airborne slush landed on the five dollars, burying it quickly.

“That was… wasteful.” the boy mumbled under his breath. “But we can maybe buy you a new coat. Maybe something as fancy as the one you have on.”

“Don't you bullshit me! You ruin this, a thousand-dollar suit. No crappy, poor jacket will make up for this.” the blinded angry man roared.

The man, that was twice the boy’s size, lounged at him then grabbed his hair ready to start a fight. He pulled Drake closer, pointing a stern index finger inches from his face. “I'm going to make sure your ass goes to jail, and you won’t see your fucking brother again!”

Having my fill, sitting by to watch this unfolding disaster, I was ready to intervene, surprised that an adult would take it this far.

A few onlookers had paused to stare, but since there was now physical contact being made between the two, more people stopped to watch.

As I stepped in to try and detour the crazy, a glint in the boy’s eyes stunned me to my core just from the glance alone. It wasn’t an angered, festered response to the old man’s aggression. It was a calm flame that I couldn’t comprehend.

“i hope one of these people call the cops so they ca- GAH!”

The loudmouth man’s words were cut short by a hand seizing the freedom of his jaw. I'd imagine confusion overcame him, draining the anger from the man’s eyes.

“i really hate people like you.” the boy whispered. The man’s cheeks caved in by drake’s handle, growing plump and red from the fingers that sunk into its flesh.

The man raised a hand then latched it onto the boy arm. It was wary to watch. Despite the desperate man’s best attempts, the short dominant kid grip was absolute and unwavering, fastened tightly around his mouth.

More instinctively than not, I stepped quickly to the fearsome drake, then grabbed his arm along with the stupid man.

“you’re hurting him, you know. This’ll get you into trouble.” I grunted, straining to loosen his hold even a little.

It shouldn’t be this hard. I was near double his height as well, and our combined strength can’t equalize to his power. This was unreal.

The boy looked up to me with lazy eyes, displaying the impression that he was giving this full-grown man and me trouble without really trying. He wasn’t what I'd call a normal kid.

I mean, what were his hands made of? Robot parts.

A little larger than a normal twelve-year old’s arm. It seems enduring and tempered. He was well-trained by someone, for whatever reason.

“So, you want to get involved now?” those fearsome, dangerous eyes had faded into a more inquiring glare. He stared at me, then grew more empathetic to my attempt to stop him. “no… You’re not a bad person, I guess. Your eyes are too soft. I wouldn’t feel good hurting you.” The boy unlatched the man’s face, then I let his arm go.

With a smudged look, he pointed his body at me, expressing a knowing grin.

“i even doubted you would have even tried to hurt me.” with a tilt of his head and a cock of his brow, he glared at the man on the ground. “I would have let him hit me for knocking him down, but someone like him shouldn’t throw weight he doesn’t have around. I can’t believe she likes him. I don’t see it.”

Drake scratched his head, turning his body away as if to ponder his dilemma in isolation.

Curious to the nature of the boy, i even wondered what he meant by “she”. It implied a connection of some sort the boy and this man shared somehow, but their initial interaction earlier didn’t suggest that they knew each other at all.

I bent down, reluctantly, to the out of breath man, checking the reddening area surrounding his mouth that will be there for a while.

“Who the fuck are you? Get the hell out of my face.”

“Yeah, you seem ok.” I halfheartedly moaned.

“Did you really stop me to save that man?” the boy inquired, showing a displeasing shift of his head, facing towards the ground.

Shame filled my eyes to the fact that I was sympathetic to a man willing to beat up kids.

“This guy is a jerk, but there’s no reason anyone should be walking away with any serious injuries.”, a gave drake a glaring smile, “also it would be bad for you to go to jail for a thing like this.”

Drake seemed to ponder my consequential words but shrugged it off. “Jail wouldn’t be so bad; they have food in there. But if my bro found out that I went to jail… it would make him feel less of a man. Plus being away from my bro would suck too.”

“Wait. What?” less of a man? “What do you mean?”

“He wants me to have a better life.”

Well, that makes sense, but the way he worded it sounded weird.

Drake turned his attention back to the man on the ground, who only recently caught his wind.

“Because of the stories she told me, I was kinda excited to meet you, but you have nothing in common with the stories I heard. And that really is sad.”

She? “Who is sh-

“you brat!! Don't you have any damn training?! Who do you think you are?”

To be expected and in his right, the man who collected himself within drake’s assessment of me, again erupted, squaring his focus to the boy.

A bit of the bite the once overly brazen man had a moment ago tapered from the intimidating way he was treated, but for some reason he again searched for the high ground to scold his attacker.

I saw a small flash from a phone within the corner of my eye. Surrounding us were now a lot of people, ogling at the “show” the two had. I was now fully involved.

Some just stood there, staring. A few seemed to have been shocked, as well as tickled by all that happened.

No one intervened like me, but there were some who had a phone close to their ears, possibly calling the police.

It was becoming clear that this boy was in trouble. I looked with panic in my eyes, scraping up some plan to redirect the attention, but before i did anything extreme…

“where’s your parents?” only after asking the crude question that I remembered that they had died. “Oh… sorry. I meant your brother.”

He glanced at me in a way that acknowledge I was heard, but no response was made to answer my clumsy question. Instead, Drake drove his regard to the capsized business man, the seemingly and sudden sorrowful boy pinched his lips together, wrinkling his nose in disgust.

“We were… supposed to be friends? But how is that?” he rolled his eyes, turning his back to the bewildered man, “there’s no way we would be. You're mean. Hot headed. and Like stuff too much.”

The bold boy, with a sudden, deepened, burning grudge towards the not-so-unfamiliar man, digging into his worn jacket pocket to fish out a dark-brown leather quality wallet with a light-black buckle that sealed it.

“Here.” Drake tossed the wallet into the lap of the confused man, who grew brighter in the face the more he seen what was in Drake’s hand. “Sorry Clover, I don’t want to be his friend anymore.”

“These…” the businessman gazed at the well-designed wallet, stunned. “This is my Wallet you brat.”

“Yep, time to go. I did what I had to do.” he spoke gingerly.

“you STOLE his wallet?!”, I affinized, realizing if i helped him now, I'd likely become an accessory to a thief.

His arms raised above his head, folded to be tucked behind his neck, then he intertwined the fingers into a net. He started off in the direction that he came from.

Metaphorically sucker punched and finding himself yet again on the hard icy sidewalk, holding his disrespected livelihood in his lap, the pride businessman had to pick himself back up to face his shame-er. His feet twisted and wobbled, hardly finding suitable ground to stabilize his feet. The heels of the designer shoes had some grip but weren’t the best fit for pure ice.

“You think someone as poor as you can get away from me, untouched? No. I'll make sure somebody get you.” He then bowed his shoulders in rekindled fury. “I bet you and your brother are homeless trash. That's why you can't afford to clean my suit.”

the boy turned so swiftly, though it might have been a fabrication on my part, wind seemed to slide off his shoulders. Feeling a different spark of heat flaring within him, my chest tightened. though he seemed like a person who would prefer a peaceful outcome at first, that look he had on his face now suggested things can go either way.

Grinding teeth of the boiling man, parted and his fangs were tucked away, but he wasn't done. this shady short dark-haired man that had his pride tampered with, still showed deep feral eyes that wish for long suffering. “I don’t have to call the cops; I'll get you myself.”

“ok” the boy quipped with a smile. “Sounds fun.”

I shuttered. "you two are acting stupid. just drop it and walk away." i thought that i could reason with them, but clearly there wasn't room for that.

The man, who realized that drake was leaving, pulled his phone out, then began to take a picture of the boy’s face. combining the information about what he said, not involving the cops anymore, erected a crimson red flag. it was just a feeling but this wouldn’t end well if he gets a picture. I ripped my coat off the tossed it over the drake’s face.

“HEY!” Drake remarked somewhat allowing me to place it over him.

“QUIT GETTING IN THE WAY! It has nothing to do with you.”

Both drake and the man had a negative reaction to me stopping the issue from escalating. i thought things were put on hold, but the faint sound of a shuttering camera caught my ears. I think my picture was taken instead.

" Now he got YOUR picture instead." Drake barked, frustrated at me. " I get you're trying to help, but…."

the odd kid with abnormal strength overpowered me, pulling the coat off. "I'm used to monsters like him."

" yep, you're pretty strong. maybe I should workout more." I scuffed, glaring dumbfounded at the boy named Drake.

surely the man, with an odd sense of justice, would want to try and take another picture.

With no urgency to his safety, Drake’s eyes floated to the camera phone again, by chance and another shutter sound echoed. "there. now you can just come after me."

“I got you now, brat!” the man cooed.

With a swift step and all the strength, I could muster focused within my legs, I kicked the iPhone up into the sky, sailing it yards away.

The man’s jaw dropped when the phone practically exploded from his hand.

“Wha?! You! Why did you do that? That phone costed me over a thousand as well.”

“I don’t like where this is going.” I stated, showing to be truly disturbed.

Glancing to both sides of me, a hot-headed man that would give a therapist a field day, a boy who seems prone to possible harm and a steady growing crowd, I rolled my eyes to the new level of involvement I've become.

“That was a nice kick.” Drake laughed. “Please play kickball with me and my bro when you get the chance!”

I felt like yelling at him for not being aware of his immediate threat to life, but I bit my tongue, opting for a more practical explanation.

“That man wants to REALLY hurt you and the police will be here soon.” I connection some points together in my head, then thinned my lips. The boy looked back with a smile at me.

“Yeah, I know, and the guy does seem like the type of person who would have "special friends.”, Drake mumbled, showing the wrong interested in that fact. " i hope they're a little tougher than him."

"wha?" my stress was nearly crushed by the crippling bolder of confusion his boy spat. "no. you shouldn't be planning a fight with a group of people."

“What if I am?” he plainly asked, searching my eyes with a solemn prowl.

A thought comprised of many assumptions, ruptured in mind like a balloon. It made me wonder if he had the proper priorities in urgency. If the police saw him, he’d be in child service pretty soon after.

“it's pretty dangerous to be in the street like this. I'm sure if the police see you, they’ll want to question your living status. yours and your brother's.” I nudged the fact more, pressing him to see doubt in his control. that some level of sanity would acutely strike him with a sense of crippling worry. however, there still wasn’t panic present on his face.

“You don’t know the half of it. They tried taking me three times now. I punched a police officer the last time they tried putting me in their car and now I think, they might want to press me for that.” Drake stated, showing some regret to the fact. “i hate that I did it. He was just worried about me, but he wouldn’t let go.”

That's… something. My eyes bucked; shock visibly displayed. He punched a policeman; this guy is screwed. Since that’s a federal crime, it could get pretty serious. An apology might not be enough, but… you never know.

“So… maybe you should apologize for what you did.” I brought it up trying to sound earnest about the suggestion, but maybe came off as an unreliable source for wisdom.

“no.” he respectfully declined. “ he went to the hospital.”

My stomach sunk and poured out somewhere inside of my body. This guy is screwed.

“Is that so?” I sighed, sickly. “We… should go.”

Yep. I'm getting too involved.

We skipped away through the various colored views of the crowd in a jog. there was one person that asked, “what happened Drake?”

And Drake answering the voice flatly, “I'll tell you later.”

I wonder if this will hurt my chances of getting that job. Likely if they find out.

Up to this point, you could have made an argument that I had no involvement in the actual conflict, maybe worthy of praise in wanting to stop the fight, but when I chose to flee with a delinquent and foul a mad man’s attempts to get revenge, that does make me involved.

We ran for a while, rounding a few corners and me slipping on ice that nearly made me fall before we stopped.

I was heaving air into my lungs, sucking the sweet nectar of air as though I was breathing through a thick filter.

We ran nearly a mile, so this was to be expected, but looking over to the boy, who stood by me waiting, breathed hollow breaths as if he never ran that mile.

“don’t die on me, brah.” he teased, reaching out to pat my back. “You should do some cardio and get in shape.”

“pant I- pant I thought I could speak, but my lungs still needed more time to recover.

I exhaled long lengths of hot air, injecting it into the icy wind, then waited for my breaths to become shallow before trying to speak again.

“pant I'm ok.” feeling as though I've remained a puddle of myself long enough, my back straightened from its coiled state. “huff more importantly… what are you going to do? The police are after you?”

“Go back to the apartment and wait for bro to get back so we can do a lil workout.” he smiled, “that jog was a pretty good warmup, but my blood is pumping now!”

Warmup? Workout? Apartment…?

“What apartment do you and your brother stay in?” I pointed out. He has a place to stay after all?

“Oops…”, he covered his mouth, then side glanced me, wary in the eyes. “Forget you heard that.”

Ignoring his request, I leaned back onto the edge of a brick wall. “I thought you said you were homeless?” I was feeling pretty hot from the run, so the cold didn’t bother me from resting a bit.

He stared at me, lack luster, maybe reflecting on my words. “I’m not entirely homeless, at least, not anymore. You know, I was told NOT to tell anyone about this, but you act like a nice guy.”

Maybe they’re in the building without being known? Occupying an empty room, they’ve gained access to.

“We live in an abandon apartment that was supposed to be condemned.” he confessed, finding a spot on the wall beside me.

“Sounds dangerous… when you say ‘we’ do you mean just you and your brother, or….”

“Nope. Can't tell you that much.” he hummed, laughing under his tone. “‘we’re’ ok where we live so there’s no need to worry. It's not illegal.”

“Yes, it is!”

“we’re not hurting anyone.”

“Who owns the building?!”

“can’t tell you.”

“that’s suspicious.”

“Are you going to tell on us?”

“No….” though a tiny part of me was convinced that i should.

He swung his head to study me, then snickered to himself. “Yeah, I believe you.” then looked to the ground covered in snow.

I creased my brow. “It’s none on my business. I mean, I don’t know your… situation.”

“let’s keep it that way.”

“But…”

“But?”

That well-dressed but more than cranky man came to mind. Sure, everything he barked should be tallied as empty under-toned threats, but it’s stuck in my head.

“Not that I think you should worry, but making enemies like that guy you bumped into could turn into a bad thing if they’d mean their threats.”

“He DID mean his threat.” Drake spoke ominously, “He's the type of guy who will follow through with hurting someone. In fact, it wouldn’t shock me to see some people trying to find me.”

“Wait, WHAT! H-how can you be sure about that?”

Plain faced, yet not completely relaxed like before. Drake Inhabited the wall no longer, standing strong, facing me. A sudden pressure was practically visible, growing and incasing me as if I was a trapped animal.

“Me and my brother… ran into people with eyes like him. He's shady and his hands are dirty.” Drake gave my shoulders, arms, and legs a glance-over before floating his focus to mine. “You look fit enough to fight, but you should definitely run if you ever see him again.”

I tunnel-visioned. My muscles stiffen, locking in placed. Sensing the fat in my cheeks solidify. My jaw slowly dips until finally a split formed between my porched lips.

“you’re… overthinking it. He's just an office guy.”

An invisible object, weighted, but not too heavy to completely stop the flow of air, formed over my chest. I was gradually growing uncomfortable. I sprung off the wall as well to chase that slightly better feeling I had earlier, but Drake’s eyes followed me.

“You made him mad too, you know. I appreciate that you wanted to help me, but shouldn’t have. You placed a bounty on your head.” he resonated an aura that felt murky with awaiting prowl. There was just something about him that was stunning. “He’s going to try and kill us.”

He wasn’t that tall, so feeling intimidated by him felt unusual, but his stance screamed heedfulness.

“He did get the chance to take my picture, so that might buy you some time.” Drake reasoned, folding his arms.

As if defending myself from a threat, I raised my hands, fiddling with the air to reach a point. “But what about you?! You made him mad too.”

“Yep.” Drake plainly stated with no care.

“So, he’ll look to hurt you too, right?”

“Yep.” drake added.

“aren’t you… bothered if he does try to get us?”

“Like I said before, there’s no need to worry about me. If he finds me first, you don’t have to worry about the guy anymore.”

Was that a threat?

My hands dug deeper into my pockets, squeezing into a ball. “what’s that’s supposed to mean?”

“whao whao! I ain’t no killer. It's just that I know how to handle people.”

I cocked a brow lifting and shifting my head away, then hummed going silent. “You must have had… a tough life."

“You seem cool to share a few stories with, but I'm going to have to go soon and meet with someone.” he groaned suddenly, “I'm sure she saw me throw Thomas wallet back at him. I'm sorry Clover, but that guy isn’t a friend of ours. Why would she wait all this time to meet such a-”

“WAIT. Did you just say Thomas?!” I yipped, straining my voice to a nearly formless squeak. “that’s my…”

Drake, the Stranger I've met just fifteen minutes ago, seemingly by accident, spoke my name with a sense of familiarity that I was not comfortable with. How would he even know me?

Drake cut his gaze towards me, discerning my flaring tone as a shift in our friendly chat. He frowned at me as if to be on guard, but reasoned to ask me what was wrong.

“dude. Why are you acting like that?! You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

He looked confused.

“it’s just that you said Thomas. I never told you my name yet.”

“What? I'm talking about that guy we… oh…” his face sunk and fell pale, almost sickly.

“ ‘Oh’, what?!” a rant of annoyance escaped.

“ N-nothing. Bro.” Drake huffed, glancing up at me just to give a response. Obviously, something was caked on his mind, but this, he didn’t want me to know. “we can… I have to… just…”

His body was so stiff. Locked in a similar way i shut down when I was told the man from before might want my head too. Drake was debating something in mind, this as well fed into my concern as well. How does he know my name?

"I- I just want to thank you for, you know, helping back there." Drake side-glanced me with suspicion and mild embarrassment.

"sure, but whatever i did, didn't really-" as i was rambling, the boy suddenly hugged me. "uhh?"

this awkward encounter lasted for about ten seconds before he was ready to peel away from me. "well, i got to go. see ya."

my face freeze, displaying plain dumbfoundedness. "you're leaving after that?"

"yep. don't die out here." he spun around then trailed away with a wave of his hand.

"don't die out here?" i cocked a brow.

#mystery #thriller #ominous #deadly #city #adventure #fighting

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