#shiny porsche too

[hoshifighting]

Urban Hearts, Rural Souls

"Never had it this good before, huh?" he teased, his voice dripping with satisfaction as he watched you squirm beneath him. "And what about those boys from your city?" he taunted. "Do they fuck you this good? Huh?"

— Synopsis: Where you are a Rich Girl abruptly sent to the countryside by your worried parents, there, you meet Mingyu, the farmer's son, who introduces you to something that defies the shallow trappings of city living. — WC: 10.6k — WARNINGS: Smut, angst, fluff, oral (f. and m. receiving), intense sex, crying, dirty talk, cum eating, g'spot stimulation, wet pussy and etc. — Reader! Rich Spoiled Girl X Farmer! Mingyu

Wrapped in designer clothes from head to toe, strutting around in those expensive heels like you owned the world. And maybe you did, in a way.  You were the kind of girl who had it all – overpriced clothes hanging in your closet like trophies, expensive cars parked in the driveway like shiny jewels, and a life filled to the brim with luxury. Your every whim was catered to, your desires instantly fulfilled with the swipe of a credit card.

But behind all the glitz and glamour, there was a gnawing emptiness that even the shiniest baubles couldn't fill. Your parents, bless their worried hearts, watched from the sidelines, knowing they had a hand in creating this materialistic monster. They'd given you everything you ever wanted, but maybe they didn't realize they were also giving you a one-way ticket to blindness.

You were always craving the next big thing, the newest gadget, the trendiest outfit. But in your quest for more, you lost sight of what truly mattered. Genuine connections, simple pleasures, the beauty of a sunset—those things seemed to fade into the background against the allure of luxury.

Your parents, busy with their own pursuits of wealth and success, rarely saw you at home. They provided you with everything money could buy, but as time passed, they began to realize that they had unwittingly traded your presence for material possessions.

"Sorry, I can't go to this dinner, I already promised my friend that I would club with her tonight," you said, leaving the keys of a Porsche in your hands, closing the door.

"Sorry, I'm going shopping today," you said, looking at yourself in the mirror, leaving and closing the door again.

"Sorry, I'm going to hang out with Jisoo today," you said, once more leaving the keys of a Porsche in your hands, closing the door.

Your parents tried to intervene, gently nudging you towards a more meaningful existence. But you brushed off their concerns, too wrapped up in your own world of excess to see the wisdom in their words. After all, why settle for less when you could have it all?

Yet, deep down, a small voice whispered that maybe there was more to life than the next shopping spree or exclusive event. Maybe true happiness wasn't found in the gleam of a diamond or the purr of a sports car engine.

There you were, lounging by the pool with your phone in hand, completely engrossed in the digital medias. The sun beat down, casting shimmering reflections on the water's surface as you scrolled and tapped away, oblivious to everything else around you.

Suddenly, your mom emerged from the doorway, her expression serious yet gentle as she made her way towards you. She called out your name, her voice cutting through the haze of your screen-induced trance. With a sigh, you reluctantly tore your gaze away from your phone, realizing that this was no ordinary interruption.

She explained that it was time for a chat, a real one, away from the distractions of social media and status updates. You hesitated for a moment.

Eventually, you acquiesced, dragging yourself out of the pool and wrapping a robe around your damp skin. As you followed your mom back into the house, you couldn't shake the feeling of apprehension that settled in the pit of your stomach. 

You found your parents sitting at the dining table, their expressions unusually serious. With a nonchalant air, you plopped down in front of them, taking a leisurely sip of your juice.

Your dad cleared his throat, his tone carrying a weight of concern. "Sweetheart, we need to talk. Your mom and I have been growing increasingly worried about you."

You fought the urge to roll your eyes. Here we go again, you thought, another lecture about how you only cared about material things.

Your mom chimed in, her voice gentle but firm. "We know you might not like what we have to say, but we truly believe it's for the best."

You raised an eyebrow, already anticipating the worst. "Let me guess, you're cutting off my credit cards?"

Your dad let out a humorless scoff. "As tempting as that may sound, no. But we have decided that it's time for you to take a break from this lifestyle. You need to step back and reassess what truly matters in life."

You couldn't help but scoff, the corners of your mouth twisting into a mocking smile. "Let me guess, you're sending me to some remote island resort to 'find myself'?"

Your parents exchanged a glance before your dad spoke again, his tone grave. "Actually, we've arranged for you to spend some time in the countryside. In the home of some dear friends of ours. It'll be a chance for you to unwind, disconnect, and maybe gain some perspective."

You leaned back in your chair, disbelief written all over your face. "You've got to be kidding me. You're seriously sending me to some rustic farm in the middle of nowhere?"

But as you looked into their unwavering gazes, you realized they weren't joking. They were dead serious about this. And suddenly, the prospect of trading designer labels for mud-stained boots didn't seem so far-fetched after all.

Your dad's words hit you like a ton of bricks. "Wait, you're telling me you didn't even mention this earlier?" you exclaimed, eyes wide with disbelief. "This has to be some kind of joke, right? You can tell me now."

But before your dad could respond, his phone rang, interrupting the conversation. As he answered, you stood there dumbfounded, watching him hurriedly talk to the person on the other end.

"Oh hello, yes yes, she's traveling today. She's getting ready. Thank you so much, Mr. Kim," your dad said into the phone before hanging up.

You felt a rush of panic as reality set in. They were serious. You were really being whisked away to some countryside retreat without so much as a warning.

Rushing to your room, you flung open your largest suitcase, hastily stuffing it with your best clothes, your mind still reeling from the sudden turn of events. Designer dresses and high heels made way for practical boots and sturdy jackets, a stark departure from your usual wardrobe.

You barely had time to indulge in one last comforting soak in your oversized tub before the reality of the situation hit you like a splash of cold water. Sitting on the couch, arms crossed, your suitcase stood by your side like a silent sentinel.

Despite your indignation and discomfort with the whole situation, you knew deep down that your parents only wanted what was best for you. But seriously, how did they think this was a good idea? Just the thought of mosquitoes made you shiver involuntarily.

As you heard the honk from the driveway, you begrudgingly grabbed your suitcase and followed your parents to the door. Stepping outside, you were met with a man who greeted you with a warm smile, remarking on how much you had grown. He was the friend of your father, the same one you had seen in old family photos.

Despite your lingering resentment, you treated him with the utmost politeness. After all, he was just following your parents' instructions, and he seemed genuinely kind.

Your parents bid you farewell, their seriousness about the whole ordeal evident in their expressions. But before you could climb into the car, your mom stopped you, snatching your phone from your hands. You scoffed incredulously, "What, no phone too?"

She simply nodded, stating matter-of-factly, "There's no internet anyway."

With a frustrated sigh, you allowed yourself to be pushed into the car, the middle-aged man already taking your suitcase and stowing it in the trunk. As the car pulled away from the driveway, you couldn't help but wonder what kind of wilderness adventure awaited you in the countryside.

As the car rolled along the winding countryside roads, Mr. Kim struck up a conversation with you, perhaps sensing your unease.

"So, your parents tell me you're not too thrilled about this little getaway," he began, his tone light and friendly.

You glanced at him, unsure of how much to reveal. "Yeah, you could say that. I'm more of a city person, you know? This whole countryside thing isn't really my scene."

He chuckled softly, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "I figured as much. But hey, sometimes it's good to shake things up a bit, right? You might find you enjoy it more than you think."

You raised an eyebrow skeptically. "I highly doubt that."

Undeterred, he continued, asking you about your life in the city, your favorite hangouts, and the luxuries you were accustomed to. With each response, he laughed, seemingly amused by the stark contrast between your world and the one you were about to enter.

"You know," he said with a grin, "sometimes it's the unexpected experiences that end up being the most memorable. Who knows, you might discover a whole new side of yourself out here."

As the car rumbled along the road for what felt like hours, the familiar hum of the city fading into the distance, you watched as the asphalt gradually transformed into a dusty dirt road. The scenery changed from towering skyscrapers to vast expanses of green fields and rolling hills.

Finally, the car came to a stop, and the man turned to you with a smile. "Well, we're here," he announced cheerfully.

You peered out the window, taking in your surroundings. Before you stretched acres of farmland, dotted with quaint wooden buildings and surrounded by lush vegetation.

This was certainly a far cry from the luxury hotels and high-rise penthouses you were accustomed to, but there was a certain allure to its simplicity that intrigued you.

Mr. Kim gets out of the car, saying he's going to ask for help with your suitcases, and disappears into the house.

Stepping out of the car that had transported you from the city to the countryside, with a disdainful glance around, you smoothed down your summer dress and adjusted your sunglasses, attempting to shield yourself from the glaring sun.

Just as you were about to take a step forward, your designer boots caught on a loose cobblestone, and you stumbled clumsily, arms flailing wildly as you tried to regain your balance.

With a loud yelp, you crashed ungracefully into a pile of hay, your dress now adorned with specks of dirt and straw. Uttering a few curses under your breath, you began to clean yourself off, feeling thoroughly irritated by the whole debacle.

To your surprise, you heard a sincere laugh echoing from somewhere nearby. "Smooth entrance." came the amused voice.

Startled, you looked up to see a tall, muscular guy leaning against the porch, clad in a simple white tank top and worn jeans. He had the rugged look of someone who spent their days working the land, and you couldn't help but feel a pang of annoyance at his false amused expression.

"Very funny," you muttered, shooting him a withering glare as you brushed off the last of the hay from your dress.

The guy smirked at your retort, "Hey, don't blame me for your lack of grace," he teased, stepping closer to you.

You crossed your arms defensively, shooting back, "Well, don't blame me for your lack of fashion sense."

He chuckled, unfazed by your jab. "Fashion sense? Please. I'd take practicality over designer labels any day."

Rolling your eyes, you scoffed, "Easy for you to say when you probably haven't stepped foot in a city in years."

His smirk widened, and he tilted his head, challenging you. "And what's wrong with that? Country life has its perks, you know. Fresh air, wide open spaces... not to mention, real food."

You narrowed your eyes, feeling a surge of defiance. "Oh, please. I'll take a five-star restaurant over your farm-to-table nonsense any day."

With a shrug, he flashed you a knowing grin. "We'll see about that."

He furrows his eyebrows as he reaches for your suitcases, grunting slightly as he lifts them from the ground. "What the hell are you packing in here, bricks?" he mutters, struggling slightly under the weight. 

You couldn't help but roll your eyes at his dramatics. With his broad shoulders and muscular arms, it was obvious he could easily handle the weight. But instead, he seemed intent on putting on a show of struggle.

As he hoisted the suitcases up, you glanced at his impressive physique, a stark contrast to your own slender frame. "Oh, I don't know," you replied casually, masking your amusement. "Maybe you're just not as strong as you think you are."

His expression darkened at your taunt, and you could practically see the steam coming out of his ears as he begrudgingly followed you towards the house. "Yeah, whatever," he muttered, his voice tinged with annoyance.

You couldn't resist a small smirk as you walked ahead, enjoying the satisfaction of getting the last word in.

As you approach the quaint farmhouse, nestled amidst the serene countryside, you're greeted by a picturesque scene straight out of a storybook. Lush greenery and vibrant foliage surround the charming abode, a small porch extends from the front of the house, its weathered floorboards worn smooth by years of use, a few well-worn rocking chairs moving with the breeze. 

You glanced around the bedroom, taking note of the meticulously prepared bed with towels neatly arranged on top. Despite your initial skepticism, it was clear that some effort had been put into making you feel welcome.

Mingyu stood beside you, his expression unreadable as he watched your reaction. For a moment, there was silence between the two of you, the air thick with tension.

Just then, Mr. Kim appeared in the doorway, a warm smile on his face. "Ah, I see you've met my son, Mingyu," he said, placing a hand on Mingyu's shoulder. "He'll be helping out around here during your stay."

Mingyu flashed you a half-hearted smile, his expression tinged with a hint of mockery. "Yeah, we had the great pleasure of meeting earlier," he said, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

You raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing on your lips. "Oh yes, it was truly unforgettable," you replied, matching his mocking tone. "I especially enjoyed the part where I ended up covered in hay."

Mr. Kim chuckled at the banter between you and his son, clearly amused by the exchange. "I'm sure you two will get along just fine," he said with a knowing smile, before leaving you to settle in.

Feeling a bit lost and unsure of what to do with yourself, you decided to head back to the living room. As you entered, you spotted Mingyu in the kitchen, busy mixing something on the stove, while a woman arranged antique stamped dishes on the table.

Her warm smile drew your attention, and you couldn't help but admire her grace as she went about her tasks. When she noticed your presence, she immediately set aside her cooking apron and approached you, enveloping you in a tight hug.

You returned the gesture, feeling a sense of warmth and comfort wash over you in her embrace. She introduced herself as Mrs. Kim, and her genuine compliment about your appearance made you blush, a shy smile tugging at your lips.

Before you could respond, you caught Mingyu's glance from across the room. When your eyes met his, he quickly looked away, returning his focus to the task at hand.

Feeling a bit flustered by the unexpected attention, you cleared your throat and glanced around the room, searching for something to say. "Thank you, Mrs. Kim" 

Ah, but you missed your 16-seat table. Your silvered forks and knives…

She beamed at your words, her eyes sparkling with warmth. "Oh, it's nothing, dear. Just a simple meal to welcome you to our home," she said warmly, patting your arm affectionately.

Despite your initial frustration and discomfort with the abrupt change in scenery and the unfamiliar accents surrounding you, you couldn't deny the genuine warmth and hospitality of the Kims. As you observed Mrs. Kim bustling around the kitchen and Mingyu's earnest efforts to make you feel welcome, a sense of guilt began to gnaw at you.

As Mrs. Kim served you a plate of food, you couldn't help but feel a bit overwhelmed by the array of dishes laid out before you. Unsure of what to pick, you glanced around nervously, feeling the weight of everyone's expectant gazes upon you.

Taking a tentative first bite, the food was simple yet bursting with deliciousness, each bite infused with a warmth and comfort that you hadn't realized you were craving.

Your eyes widened in surprise as you savored the food, a genuine smile spreading across your face. "Wow, this is really good," you exclaimed, unable to hide your delight.

The Kims exchanged knowing glances, their smiles widening at your enthusiastic reaction. It was clear that they were pleased to see you enjoying their home-cooked meal.

As you continued to eat, you found yourself digging in with gusto, savoring every bite as if it were the most delicious thing you had ever tasted. It was a stark contrast to the fast food and gourmet dishes you were accustomed to in the city, and yet, there was something undeniably special about this homemade meal made with love.

Mingyu and his dad shared subtle, satisfied smiles, their eyes twinkling with amusement as they watched you devouring the food with such enthusiasm. It was clear that they were pleased to see you embracing their culinary traditions and finding joy in the simple pleasures, for the first time? 

As you rolled up your sleeves and began to help with the dishes, Mingyu appeared at your side with a teasing smirk. "Well, I'm surprised to see you know how to wash a plate," he remarked, his tone laced with playful incredulity.

You couldn't help but roll your eyes at his playful jab. "Oh, please. It's not like I've never washed a dish before," you retorted, scrubbing a plate with more force than necessary.

Mingyu chuckled at your defensive tone, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "I'm just surprised, is all. Figured someone with nails as pristine as yours would be afraid to get them dirty," he teased, gesturing to your perfectly manicured hands.

You shot him a pointed look, a hint of irritation creeping into your voice. "My nails will be just fine, thank you very much." you replied curtly.

After finishing up with the dishes, you managed to steal a quiet moment for yourself. Making your way to the bathroom, you were pleasantly surprised to find that there was hot water available, despite being in the midst of a countryside farm. And as you drifted off to sleep, the sound of crickets chirping outside lulling you into a peaceful slumber.

As the sun streamed through the window, bathing the room in a warm glow, you slowly stirred from your sleep, feeling more refreshed than you had in ages. The sound of a rooster crowing in the distance filled the air, a gentle reminder that you were far from the hustle and bustle of city life.

Just as you were about to stretch, you heard a familiar voice at your door. Groaning inwardly, you sat up, blinking away the remnants of sleep as you focused on the figure standing in the doorway.

There stood Mingyu, holding a pair of buckets in his hands. "Hey, sleepyhead," he called out, a hint of mischief dancing in his eyes. "Time to rise and shine. We've got a cow to milk."

You blinked in disbelief, your mind struggling to process the request. Milk a cow? Surely he must be joking. But as you glanced out the window and saw the sun rising higher in the sky, and the way he stood at the door, you realized that he was serious.

With a resigned sigh, you pushed back the covers and swung your legs over the side of the bed, steeling yourself for the unfamiliar task ahead. 

You couldn't help but roll your eyes at Mingyu's teasing remark as he caressed the cow with practiced ease. "Yeah, well, I figured I'd take precautions after yesterday's little incident," you retorted, gesturing to your brightly colored galoshes.

Mingyu chuckled at your response, shaking his head in amusement. "Fair enough," he conceded, his eyes twinkling with laughter. "But I've got to admit, you look a bit out of place here on the farm."

You huffed indignantly, feeling a pang of annoyance at his comment. "And what exactly am I supposed to look like?" you shot back, crossing your arms defensively. "Peppa Pig jumping in muddy puddles?"

Mingyu's laughter rang out loud and clear, the sound echoing through the barn as he shook his head incredulously. "Hey, I'm just saying, those boots aren't exactly farm chic," he replied, unable to hide his amusement.

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes again, instead choosing to focus on the task at hand. As Mingyu nodded towards the bucket under the cow and the small stool nearby, you took a deep breath, steeling yourself for the challenge ahead.

As you continued to milk the cow with gentle, tentative strokes, Mingyu couldn't help but chuckle at your cautious approach. "If you keep going at this pace, we'll be here until evening," he teased, shaking his head in mock exasperation.

You couldn't help but sulk at his teasing, feeling a pang of self-doubt creeping in. "I'm just afraid of hurting her," you admitted softly, glancing down at the cow's udders with concern.

Mingyu rolled his eyes playfully, squatting down behind you and gently taking your hands in his. "Here, let me show you," he murmured, his voice low and soothing as he guided your movements.

As his warm hands enveloped yours, you felt a jolt of electricity shoot through you, you couldn't help but be drawn to the way his chest pressed against your back, his breath tickling your ear as he whispered instructions. Lost in the sensation of his touch, you found yourself forgetting about the task at hand, your focus shifting entirely to him. 

"See? It's not so hard, is it?" Mingyu's voice broke through your thoughts, his tone gentle and encouraging.

Oh, it sure is, with those arms around you.

You nodded slowly, still feeling a bit flustered by the unexpected closeness between you. "Yeah, I guess not."

As you watched the chickens with a mixture of curiosity and apprehension, your mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water, unable to find the words to express your uncertainty.

Noticing your hesitation, Mingyu couldn't help but chuckle at your predicament. "Looks like it's time to collect some eggs," he remarked, gesturing towards the coop with a smirk.

Taking a deep breath, you steeled yourself for the task ahead and stepped into the coop, determined to prove that you were capable of handling farm chores. But as soon as you entered, the chickens seemed to sense your unease and began to peck at your legs and feet, their sharp beaks causing you to yelp in surprise.

Jumping back in alarm, you flailed your arms wildly, trying to fend off the feathery assailants as Mingyu looked on, shaking his head in amusement. "Well, that's one way to get the eggs," he quipped, unable to suppress his laughter at your antics.

Feeling flustered and more than a little embarrassed, you quickly retreated from the coop, shooting Mingyu a sheepish look. "I think I'll leave the egg collecting to the experts," you muttered, feeling defeated.

Mingyu grinned, his eyes twinkling with mischief as he watched you dust yourself off. "Don't worry, princess, I'll take care of it," he teased, reaching for the basket and heading towards the coop with a knowing smirk.

Mingyu couldn't help but chuckle at the sight of you sprawled out on the sofa, your face flushed from the sun and your body looking utterly exhausted. His mom joined in with a soft giggle, amused by your worn-out appearance.

"Looks like someone had quite the day," Mingyu remarked with a grin, his eyes twinkling with amusement as he observed you from across the room.

You let out a tired groan, your limbs feeling heavy and your muscles aching from the day's activities. "I feel like I've run a marathon," you admitted with a weary smile, unable to hide the exhaustion in your voice.

Mingyu's mom nodded in understanding, her eyes filled with warmth and affection as she looked at you. "It takes some getting used to, but you'll adjust," she reassured you, her voice gentle and reassuring.

Mingyu flashed you a reassuring smile, his gaze lingering on you with a hint of admiration. "Yeah, you'll get used to it," he echoed, his voice soft and reassuring.

As you lay on the sofa, your mind drifted to thoughts of your friends back in the city. You could already imagine their laughter and teasing when they heard about your countryside misadventures.

The image of them laughing at the idea of you "touching cow's tits" made you cringe, and you couldn't help but feel a twinge of embarrassment at the thought of being the subject of their jokes. And the mental image of you being chased by chickens while wearing bright yellow galoshes instead of your usual designer boots was almost too much to bear.

As you stood face to face with the towering horse, a surge of determination coursed through you. You were determined to prove to Mingyu that you were capable of handling any challenge that came your way, no matter how unfamiliar or daunting.

With a defiant glare, you met Mingyu's gaze head-on, refusing to back down from the challenge before you. "Did you know that horseback riding is expensive enough for me to know?" you retorted, your voice laced with confidence.

Mingyu raised an eyebrow at your defiant remark, his hands on his hips as he regarded you with a mixture of amusement and skepticism. "Is this a dare?" he asked, a hint of challenge in his tone.

You smirked, your eyes gleaming with determination. "It's not a dare if I'm going to win," you replied boldly, your confidence unwavering.

Mingyu chuckled at your bravado, shaking his head in amusement. "Well, we'll see about that," he replied with a smirk of his own. "But I'll have you know, a farmer can ride way better than a rich girly who did hipstism."

As you settled into the saddle and urged the horse forward, you felt a surge of exhilaration coursing through your veins. With each powerful stride of the horse beneath you, you felt a sense of connection and freedom unlike anything you had ever experienced.

Glancing back at Mingyu, who was hot on your heels, you couldn't help but smirk at the competitive gleam in his eye. With a determined flick of the reins, you urged your horse to pick up the pace, the wind whipping through your hair as you galloped across the long field.

Feeling the rhythm of the horse's movements beneath you, you couldn't help but feel a sense of exhilaration as you rode faster and faster, the thrill of the chase driving you forward.

But as you approached the towering mount of straw ahead, Mingyu's voice rang out behind you, announcing the end of the race. "This is it!" he shouted, his voice carrying over the wind.

You turned to face him with a confident smile, your eyes sparkling with determination. "Bet," you replied, your voice filled with certainty as you prepared to take on the challenge ahead.

s you crossed the finish line first, a victorious grin spread across your face. You patted the horse affectionately, thanking it for its speed and cooperation, a playful twinkle in your eye as if expecting a response from the animal.

Mingyu appeared right behind you, his expression a mixture of surprise and begrudging admiration. He glanced at you, clearly not wanting to give the impression that he was impressed, but failing miserably.

You couldn't help but laugh at his unsuccessfully concealed expression, a playful smirk tugging at your lips. "Looks like I win," you teased, unable to resist the opportunity to gloat a little.

Mingyu rolled his eyes, but there was a hint of a smile playing at the corners of his lips. "Beginner's luck," he muttered, trying to brush off his defeat with a nonchalant shrug.

But you could see through his facade, and you knew that deep down, he was impressed by your riding skills. "Sure, keep telling yourself that," you replied with a playful wink, reveling in your victory.

As the days turned into weeks, Mingyu and his parents couldn't help but notice a change in you. At first, they were surprised by your transformation. They had expected you to grow restless and bored, eager to return to the comforts of city life. But instead, they watched in awe as you flourished in your new surroundings.

While you may have initially viewed your newfound chores as a means to an end, a way to expedite your return to the comforts of home, you couldn't deny the genuine joy and fulfillment you experienced in caring for the animals and immersing yourself in farm activities.

With each passing day, as you spent more time in the stable and the fields, you discovered a sense of peace and contentment that you had never known before. 

Whenever Mingyu's parents were away in the center of the countryside, Mingyu took it upon himself to keep you entertained and engaged, determined to show you the lighter side of farm life and ensure that you didn't find the countryside boring.

Sometimes, he would teach you how to fish in the nearby stream, laughing as you fumbled with the bait and giggling as you shrieked with delight whenever you felt a tug on the line. From impromptu horseback races across the fields to makeshift picnics under the shade of a sprawling oak tree, Mingyu made sure that there was never a dull moment when you were together.

As the rain poured down outside, Mingyu looked at you with a mischievous grin, his eyes dancing with excitement. "Hey, since we're stuck inside anyway, how about we play a game of hide and seek?" he suggested, his voice filled with enthusiasm.

You couldn't help but raise an eyebrow in surprise at his suggestion. Hide and seek? Wasn't that a game for children? You hadn't played it in years, not since you were a kid back in the city.

"But isn't that game a bit... childish?" you asked, your tone laced with skepticism. After all, hide and seek seemed like such a simple and silly game, hardly befitting someone of your age and sophistication.

Mingyu laughed at your hesitation, shaking his head in amusement. "Come on, it'll be fun! Besides, it's not like we have anything else to do while we're stuck inside," he replied, his eyes sparkling with excitement.

You hesitated for a moment, unsure if you wanted to indulge in such a childish pastime. But as you glanced out the window at the dreary weather outside, you couldn't help but feel a spark of curiosity and excitement at the prospect of a little indoor adventure.

With a reluctant smile, you finally relented, nodding your head in agreement. "Alright, fine. But you owe me if I end up getting bored," you teased, unable to hide the hint of amusement in your voice.

Mingyu grinned at your acceptance, his eyes alight with excitement. "Deal," he replied.

As Mingyu's voice counted down from ten, you dashed around the house, your heart racing with excitement as you searched for the perfect hiding spot. His laughter echoed through the halls as he called out the numbers, his anticipation building with each passing moment.

Finally, you found it—a small space between the wardrobe and the wall in your room. It seemed like the perfect hiding spot, tucked away from sight with just enough room for you to squeeze into. With a quick glance over your shoulder to make sure no one was watching, you darted into the hiding place and pressed your back against the wall, your heart pounding with excitement.

As you waited in the darkness, the sound of Mingyu's footsteps grew closer, his laughter echoing through the room as he searched for you. You held your breath, trying to stifle the giggles threatening to escape as his footsteps drew nearer and nearer.

Suddenly, you heard a soft gasp as Mingyu's hand brushed against the wardrobe, his fingers grazing the edge of your hiding spot. Your heart skipped a beat as you held your breath, hoping he wouldn't find you.

As Mingyu's hand brushed against your shoulder and his fingers wrapped around your arm, pulling you out of your hiding place, you couldn't help but let out a startled gasp as your body collided with his. His laughter filled the room, echoing in the darkness, but you couldn't find it in you to join in.

"Sulking again, huh?" Mingyu teased, his voice warm and playful as he wrapped his other arm around you, pulling you close. 

You rolled your eyes in response, trying to hide the smile that threatened to tug at your lips despite your best efforts to maintain your facade of annoyance. "I don't sulk," you protested weakly, but even to your own ears, the protest sounded half-hearted.

Mingyu chuckled softly, the sound reverberating through the room as he held you close. "Sure you don't," he replied, his tone teasing but affectionate. 

Suddenly, you felt his hands on your face, his fingers tracing your features with a gentle touch that made your heart race. In the darkness, his touch seemed to intensify, his caress becoming more intimate as he explored the contours of your face with a tenderness that took your breath away.

As Mingyu's lips met yours, time seemed to stand still, the world falling away as you melted into his embrace. His lips were soft and warm against yours, sending a thrill of electricity coursing through your veins as he pressed your back against the wardrobe, his hand pulling you closer by your waist.

With a soft moan, you found yourself responding eagerly to his touch, your hands tangling in his hair as you deepened the kiss. Mingyu groaned against your lips, the sound sending a shiver of pleasure down your cunt as his tongue danced with yours.

As Mingyu's lips trailed down to your neck, igniting a trail of fire with each kiss, you couldn't help but moan softly, your body arching towards him in response to the overwhelming sensations coursing through you.

"M-Mingyu…"

"I can feel how much you want me," he continued, his voice low and seductive. "You're practically melting against me, begging for my touch."

His words sent a shiver of anticipation down your spine, your breath coming in ragged gasps as you surrendered yourself to the pleasure of his touch.

"You're so beautiful like this," he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear.

His hands roamed over your body, exploring every curve and contour with a hunger that matched your own. As he pressed his body against yours, you could feel the heat radiating from him, the intensity of his desire burning bright in the darkness.

As his fingers brushed against your hardened nipple through your top, you couldn't help but let out a soft gasp of pleasure, the sensation sending waves of heat coursing through you.

Feeling your reaction, Mingyu hissed in response, his desire evident in the husky tone of his voice. "I need to see you," he murmured urgently, his hands moving to lift your top, his fingers tracing the contours of your body in the darkness. "This darkness isn't helping."

With a nod of understanding, you waited patiently as he disappeared into the darkness, the anticipation building with each passing moment. And then, just as suddenly as he had left, he reappeared with two lanterns, the warm glow casting a soft light over the room.

And there you were, already naked and sitting on the bed, your body bathed in the soft light of the lanterns. Mingyu's eyes widened in surprise, a low hum of appreciation escaping his lips as he took in the sight before him.

"You're naughty," he murmured, his voice husky with desire as he approached you slowly. The warmth of the lanterns illuminated every curve and contour of your body, casting a mesmerizing glow that left him spellbound.

As the room filled with light, you couldn't help but catch your breath at the sight of Mingyu standing before you, his features illuminated in the golden glow of the lanterns. His eyes burned with desire as he looked at you, his gaze traveling over your body with hunger and longing.

With a soft smile, he stepped closer, the warmth of the lanterns enveloping you both. "Now I can see every inch of you," he murmured, his voice thick with desire. 

s Mingyu's hands deftly removed his shirt, tossing it aside with a casual flick of his wrist, your eyes were drawn to the sight of his toned, muscular body illuminated by the warm glow of the lanterns. His hard work and dedication were evident in the way his muscles rippled beneath his skin, sending a shiver of desire coursing through you.

Instinctively, your legs pressed together, the heat pooling between them as you felt the unmistakable arousal building within you. Mingyu's presence was intoxicating, his sheer physicality leaving you breathless and eager for more.

Unable to resist the temptation any longer, you reached out to him, your hands tracing the contours of his chest and abdomen with a hungry urgency. His skin was warm beneath your touch, his muscles firm and taut as you explored every inch of him with a sense of wonder and reverence.

As your fingers trailed lower, tracing the outline of his hardened arousal, a low groan escaped Mingyu's lips, his desire mirroring your own.

As you untangled his belt and lowered his jeans, your desperation was palpable, your need for him evident in every movement. Mingyu watched you with a knowing smile, his lip caught between his teeth as he observed your eagerness.

With a sense of anticipation building between you, you got down on your knees before him, your eyes pleading as you lowered his underwear, revealing his thick, pulsing cock. It lay heavy on your face, the weight of it sending a thrill of excitement coursing through you.

Mingyu's breath caught in his throat as he watched you, his desire growing with each passing moment. "That's it, baby," he murmured huskily, his voice thick with lust. "Show me how much you want it."

With a slow, provocative motion, you began to suck on the tip of his cock, teasing him with your tongue as you savored the taste of him on your lips. Mingyu groaned in pleasure, his hands tangling in your hair as he urged you on.

But then, with a sudden shift in his demeanor, Mingyu's voice took on a commanding tone. "Enough teasing," he growled, his gaze dark with desire. "I want you to suck it, all of it. Show me how good you can make me feel."

As you obediently lowered your head, taking all of Mingyu's length into your mouth, you could feel him groaning in pleasure above you. His hands tightened in your hair, gripping it firmly as if he were holding onto reins, his fingers wrapping around your locks like a lasso.

With each deep thrust, he urged you on, his voice thick with desire as he commanded you to take him deeper. "That's it," he moaned, the sound reverberating through your body as you continued to obey his every whim. "Just like that, baby, all the way in."

As you relaxed your jaw, allowing Mingyu's thick cock to press against the back of your throat, a wave of pleasure surged through him, causing his knees to falter for a moment. But you remained steadfast, your determination unwavering as you held your breath and took him deeper, allowing him to penetrate you fully.

Mingyu's grip on your hair tightened as he let out a guttural groan of pleasure, his hips bucking involuntarily as he was overcome by the intense sensation of your throat enveloping him. The feeling of your warm, wet mouth engulfing him completely sent waves of ecstasy coursing through his body, igniting a fire within him that threatened to consume him whole.

With each deep thrust, he felt himself losing control, his desire mounting to dizzying heights as he surrendered himself completely to the overwhelming pleasure of the moment. And as you continued to take him deeper, your throat accommodating his girth with ease, he knew that he was on the brink of an explosion unlike anything he had ever experienced before.

As Mingyu pulled on the lasso of your hair, halting just before he reached his climax, you let out a whimper of anticipation, your body trembling with need. He pulled you up and pushed you onto the bed, spreading your legs apart as he positioned himself between them. Your ass lifted off the bed, your breath coming in shallow gasps as you waited for his next move.

With a hungry look in his eyes, Mingyu dropped to his knees before you, his tongue darting out to lick a fat stripe along your slit. A moan escaped your lips as pleasure shot through you, your body arching off the bed in response. "Mmm... yes," you murmured, the sensation overwhelming as he continued to lap at your pussy with fervent eagerness.

Mingyu cooed softly as he tasted you, his tongue exploring every inch of your wetness with a skillful precision that left you dizzy with pleasure. "You taste so good," he whispered, his voice low and husky as he lavished attention on your sensitive folds. 

As Mingyu sucked on your clit, bobbing his head with a fervent eagerness that sent waves of pleasure coursing through you, you couldn't help but moan loudly, the sensation overwhelming you completely. "Ohh... yesss," you cried out, your voice filled with unrestrained passion as he worked his magic on you.

He held back a smirk as he felt your cunt throbbing with the approach of your orgasm, knowing that he had you right where he wanted you. With a wicked grin, he doubled down on his efforts, sucking your whole pussy hard, his tongue lapping at your juices with an insatiable hunger.

The intensity of his ministrations pushed you over the edge, your body convulsing with pleasure as the orgasm washed over you with a force that left you breathless. Mingyu smiled triumphantly as he felt you come embarrassingly fast, your moans filling the room with the sweet sound of your pleasure.

As Mingyu laid you down properly on the bed, he gazed into your eyes with a hunger that sent shivers down your spine. His voice was low and husky as he asked how much you wanted him to fuck you, and you could barely think straight, your mind clouded with desire.

With your orgasm still pulsing through your body, you almost drunkenly replied that you wanted him a lot, your words slurred with pleasure. Mingyu's lips curled into a wicked grin as he heard your response, his eyes smoldering with lust as he leaned in closer.

"And how much do you want this farmer to fuck you?" he murmured, his voice dripping with desire as he teased you with his words. The hint of his country accent sent a shiver of anticipation coursing through you, your body quivering with need.

You rolled your hips instinctively, searching for his cock, your movements desperate and needy. Mingyu chuckled softly at your eagerness, his hands roaming over your body possessively as he continued to taunt you with his dirty talk.

With a whimper of desire, you opened your mouth in an "o" of longing, unable to resist the overwhelming urge to feel him deep inside you. "A lot," you gasped, your voice trembling with need. "I want it... a lot... please..."

Mingyu's cock lay heavy against your belly, the sight of it making your breath catch in your throat. He looked at you with a wicked grin, his eyes burning with desire as he teased you with the promise of what was to come.

"Do you want my cock right here?" he murmured huskily, his voice sending shivers down your spine. "Inside of this pretty little pussy of yours?"

You could only nod eagerly, your body trembling with anticipation as you gazed up at him with lust-filled eyes. "Yes," you whispered breathlessly, your voice barely above a moan. "Please, Mingyu... I need it... I need you inside me..."

Mingyu's grin widened at your response, his desire reaching a fever pitch as he positioned himself between your legs, ready to claim you as his own. With a primal growl, he pushed himself inside you, filling you completely with his throbbing cock as you cried out in ecstasy.

As Mingyu kissed you with a hunger that matched your own, you cried out in pleasure, feeling your pussy clenching tighter around his throbbing cock with each thrust. Your hands roamed over his back, feeling every ridge and muscle beneath his skin as he moved with a primal intensity that drove you wild with desire.

Suddenly, he took his cock out and pushed back inside you with all his force, causing your head to be thrown back in ecstasy. The sensation of him filling you so completely, stretching you to your limits, sent waves of pleasure coursing through you, igniting a fire within you that threatened to consume you whole.

Mingyu's gaze locked with yours, his eyes boring into your soul as tears streamed down your cheeks, your body trembling with the intensity of his thrusts. He leaned in close, his voice low and husky as he whispered filthy words that sent shivers down your spine.

"You like that, don't you?" he murmured, his breath hot against your ear as he continued to pound into you with relentless force. "You like feeling my cock splitting you in half, don't you, baby?"

You could only whimper in response, your pussy clenching tightly around him at his words, sending a jolt of pleasure coursing through both of you. Mingyu stuttered for a moment, surprised by the intensity of your reaction, before letting out a low chuckle.

"Never had it this good before, huh?" he teased, his voice dripping with satisfaction as he watched you squirm beneath him. "And what about those boys from your city?" he taunted. "Do they fuck you this good? Huh?"

You shook your head vehemently, your legs trembling around his waist as you cried out in pleasure. "No," you screamed, the word torn from your lips in a primal moan. "They don't... ah!"

Mingyu grinned triumphantly at your response, his own pleasure mounting to dizzying heights as he continued to drive you wild with desire. With each powerful thrust, he pushed you closer and closer to the edge, determined to show you just how good it could be with a real man like him.

As Mingyu's cock pounded into you relentlessly, a white ring formed around his shaft, evidence of your overwhelming arousal. He looked down at you with a smirk, his voice low and husky as he taunted you with his words.

"Can you hear how wet you are, baby?" he murmured, his breath hot against your skin as he leaned in closer. "You're practically dripping for me."

You blushed furiously at his words, feeling a surge of embarrassment wash over you at the realization of just how turned on you were. But despite your embarrassment, you couldn't deny the overwhelming pleasure coursing through your veins, driving you to new heights of ecstasy with each thrust.

You bit your lip nervously, unable to form a coherent response as Mingyu's cock continued to pound into you with relentless determination. Your back arched involuntarily, your body betraying you with its desperate need for more.

Mingyu's hips plunged deep into you, sending shockwaves of pleasure coursing through your body as you jolted, desperately reaching for his hand. He chuckled softly, his voice dripping with amusement as he teased you mercilessly.

"Oh, looks like I found it," he taunted, his thrusts growing harder and more relentless with each passing moment. "Right here... and here again. Is this where you want me, baby?"

You could only whimper in response, your mind consumed by the overwhelming pleasure of his touch. "I-I'm going to cum," you gasped, your voice thick with desire as your orgasm approached with dizzying speed.

Mingyu's hand tightened around yours, providing you with an anchor to hold onto as he continued to pound into you with an intensity that left you breathless. His hips worked deep against your G-spot, driving you closer and closer to the edge with each thrust.

"Come for me, baby," he whispered huskily, his voice laced with desire as he urged you on. "I want to feel you cumming around me."

As Mingyu noticed the way you tensed hard and squeezed his hand tightly, he could feel the intensity building within you. "You're going to cum so hard for me, baby"

And then, as if on cue, you let go, your body convulsing with the force of the orgasm that tore through you. Mingyu watched in awe as you came apart in his arms, your screams filling the room as you lost yourself completely to the pleasure.

"Fuck," he breathed, his voice hoarse with desire as he drank in the sight of you, your body trembling with ecstasy as you rode out the waves of pleasure. He didn't want to blink, didn't want to miss a single moment of the beautiful sight before him.

As your body finally relaxed, Mingyu withdrew himself from your swollen, sopping cunt. You looked up at him with a lazy smile, feeling completely satisfied but still hungry for more.

"Did you cum?" you asked, your voice laced with anticipation as you waited for his response.

Mingyu hesitated for a moment, but before he could answer, you cut him off with a mischievous grin, sticking your tongue out of your mouth playfully.

"Don't worry about that," he began, but you interrupted him, your eyes sparkling with mischief as you pleaded with him to cum for you.

"Come on, Mingyu," you urged, your voice dripping with desire. "I want to see you cum. I want to taste you on my tongue."

Mingyu's eyes widened in surprise at your boldness, but a wicked grin spread across his face as he realized just how much you wanted him. With a low growl of desire, he leaned in closer, his lips brushing against yours as he whispered his response.

"You're insatiable, aren't you?" he murmured, his voice thick with desire. "But I like it. I like it a lot."

As Mingyu gently arranged your hair, he positioned himself so that his cock was within reach of your mouth. You eagerly complied, your saliva mixed with your own lubrication serving as the perfect medium for him to stroke his throbbing cock.

With his heavy tip resting on your tongue, you felt the anticipation building within you once again. Your lips parted as you watched him with hungry eyes, eager to taste him once more.

Mingyu groaned softly as he began to masturbate his cock, the sensation of your tongue and lips against his sensitive skin driving him crazy. With each stroke, he grew harder and thicker in your mouth, his arousal evident in the way his cock throbbed against your tongue.

You moaned softly around him, the vibrations sending shivers of pleasure coursing through his body as he continued to pleasure himself with your eager mouth. And as his release approached, Mingyu's movements grew more urgent, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he edged closer and closer to the brink.

Finally, with a low growl of pleasure, Mingyu reached the point of no return, his cock pulsating as he spilled his hot cum onto your waiting tongue. You eagerly swallowed every drop, savoring the taste of him as he rode out the waves of his orgasm.

"I'm feeling so good," you murmur, a contented smile gracing your lips as you lay beside Mingyu.

"Do you?" he asks, his voice soft and filled with tenderness as he gazes at you.

You nod, feeling a warmth spreading through your body at his gentle touch. Mingyu brushes your hair away from your face, his fingers trailing lightly over your skin as he lays on his side, his eyes fixed on you with a look of adoration.

"Yeah," you reply, your voice barely above a whisper as you meet his gaze. "I feel amazing."

Mingyu smiles, his expression filled with affection as he leans in closer, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead. The atmosphere feels incredibly comfortable, more intimate and peaceful than ever before.

You blinked, the soft morning light filtering through the curtains as you slowly roused from sleep, only to find yourself alone in bed. The warmth of Mingyu's big body, which had been so comforting throughout the night, was noticeably absent, leaving you with a sense of emptiness.

As you sat up, rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you couldn't shake the feeling that the events of the previous night had been nothing more than a dream. But then, just as doubt began to creep in, the door swung open, and there stood Mingyu, shirtless and wearing only jeans, a tray of breakfast in his hands.

He flashed you a warm smile as he entered the room, the sight of him banishing any lingering doubts from your mind. "Good morning," he greeted you, his voice soft and filled with affection.

"Good morning," you replied, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips as you watched him approach. The sight of him, shirtless and bearing breakfast, made your heart skip a beat, and you couldn't help but feel a surge of warmth spread through you at the sight of him.

Mingyu set the tray down on the bedside table before climbing back into bed beside you, his warmth enveloping you once more. As you sat together, enjoying breakfast in each other's company.

In the middle of the afternoon, you was alone in your bedroom, Mrs. Kim appears with her phone, it was your parents, wanting to talk to you. You take the phone from Mrs. Kim with trembling hands, your heart racing with anticipation as you retreat to a secluded corner of the house. With bated breath, you answer the call, hoping against hope that it's your parents finally coming to rescue you from this unfamiliar place.

"Hello?" you say tentatively, the sound of your own voice echoing in your ears.

On the other end of the line, you hear your mother's voice, filled with concern and urgency. "Sweetheart, are you okay?" she asks, her tone fraught with worry.

You feel a surge of relief wash over you at the sound of her familiar voice. "Mom, it's me," you reply quickly, trying to keep your voice steady despite the emotions swirling inside you. "I'm okay, but I really want to come home. Can you please come get me? I need to tell you something…"

There's a moment of silence on the other end of the line before your mother responds, her voice heavy with regret. "Honey, I'm sorry, but we can't come get you right now," she says, her words hitting you like a punch to the gut. "We need you to stay there for a little while longer."

Your heart sinks at her words, the sense of disappointment threatening to overwhelm you. "But why?" you ask, your voice cracking with emotion. "I don't understand."

Before you can say anything else, you hear a click on the other end of the line, signaling that the call has ended. With a heavy heart, you lower the phone from your ear and turn around, only to find Mingyu standing there, his expression hardened and unreadable.

You swallow hard, feeling a sense of unease settle over you as you meet his gaze. "Mingyu, I..." you begin, but he cuts you off with a curt shake of his head before turning and walking out of the room, leaving you alone with your thoughts and a sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach.

You ran after him, your footsteps echoing in the stillness of the countryside as you desperately called out his name. But Mingyu didn't turn to look at you, his gaze fixed on the horizon as he continued walking towards the lagoon.

"Mingyu, please," you pleaded, your voice thick with emotion as you struggled to catch up to him. "Listen to me."

He finally stopped walking, but he still didn't turn to face you. Instead, he spoke with a tone of resignation, his voice heavy with disappointment. "I understand now," he said quietly. "You were just using me to pass the time until you could go home."

Your heart sank at his words, the guilt weighing heavily on your chest as tears welled up in your eyes. "No, Mingyu, that's not true," you insisted, your voice trembling with emotion.

"I... I care about you. What about yesterday? What we shared..."

But he cuts you off with a bitter laugh, shaking his head in disbelief. "Yesterday was a mistake," he says, his words like a knife to your heart. "It doesn't change the fact that you were never really here for me. You were just biding your time until you could leave."

Your mouth hung open in shock as Mingyu's words sliced through you like a blade, leaving you reeling with hurt and disbelief. Tears welled up in your eyes as you struggled to comprehend his harsh accusations.

"That's mean!" you finally managed to choke out, your voice trembling with emotion. "I know I'm wrong, but you're being so mean right now!"

Mingyu's attention snapped back to you at the sound of your sobs, his heart clenching with regret as he watched the tears stream down your face. He hadn't meant to hurt you so deeply, but in his anger and frustration, his words had cut far deeper than he had intended.

For a moment, there was silence between you, the weight of Mingyu's harsh judgment hanging heavy in the air. And then, finally, you spoke again, your voice barely above a whisper.

"It was a mistake then?" you asked, your words barely audible over the sound of your own ragged breathing. 

Mingyu hesitates, his own emotions swirling inside him as he struggles to find the right words. "No, it wasn't a mistake," he admits quietly, his gaze softening as he meets your tear-filled eyes. "Yesterday... what we shared... it meant something to me."

Your heart races as Mingyu's words sink in, a mix of hope and confusion swirling inside you. "Then why are you saying all of this?" you ask, your voice trembling with emotion. "If it meant something to you, then why..."

Mingyu cuts you off with a heavy sigh, his gaze dropping to the ground as he struggles to find the right words. "Because it's not going to work," he admits, his voice filled with resignation. "You're going back to your expensive bags and imported cars, and I'm going to be alone."

His words hit you like a punch to the gut, the realization of what he's saying sending a surge of pain through your chest. "But how can you be sure that I want to go home?" you protest, desperation creeping into your voice. "You didn't even heard the whole conversation. I need to go home, yes, but not because I want to leave you. I need to go home to tell my parents, my friends, that I want to stay here."

Mingyu's shoulders sag at your words, a flicker of hope shining in his eyes. "You want to stay?" he asks, his voice barely above a whisper.

You nod, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. "Yes," you say softly. "And do you know what made up my mind?"

Mingyu's gaze searches yours, waiting for your answer.

"You did," you admit, your voice barely a whisper as you meet his gaze. "You and this life... it made me feel something real. Something I've never felt before."

For a moment, there's a glimmer of understanding in Mingyu's eyes, a flicker of hope that maybe, just maybe, things could work out between you. He takes a step towards you, reaching out as if to touch you, but you step back, your heart still raw from his earlier words.

"I'm hurt," you whisper, your voice breaking with emotion. "And I need some time alone to figure things out."

With that, you turn and walk away, leaving Mingyu standing there, his gaze following you with a mixture of longing and regret. And as you disappear from view, you can't help but wonder if you've made the right decision... or if you've just made a terrible mistake.

Mingyu stands in the doorway, his expression pensive as he takes in the sight of you curled up on the bed, your breath trembling from your recent tears. He hesitates for a moment, unsure of how to approach you, before finally taking a step into the room.

"I... I wanted to talk to you," he begins, his voice soft and hesitant. "I know things have been... difficult between us lately, and I just wanted to say..."

He pauses, struggling to find the right words as he searches your face for any sign of understanding. "When I first heard that a rich girl was coming to our farm, I'll admit, I had my doubts," he admits, his gaze dropping to the floor as he speaks. "I thought you would be like all the others – snobbish, entitled, looking down on us like we were beneath you."

He takes a deep breath, steeling himself for what comes next. "But you proved me wrong," he continues, his voice growing stronger with each word. "You learned everything we taught you, you got along with everyone, and... despite our bickering, you seemed so genuine."

Mingyu's words hang in the air, the weight of his apology lingering between you. He takes a step closer, his eyes pleading for understanding as he searches your face for any sign of forgiveness.

"I'm sorry," he says, his voice barely above a whisper. "I'm sorry for the way I've treated you, for the things I've said. I was wrong to judge you based on where you come from, and... I hope you can forgive me."

There's a vulnerability in Mingyu's voice that tugs at your heartstrings, a sincerity that you can't ignore. You feel a lump form in your throat as you meet his gaze, seeing the regret and remorse etched in his features.

"I... I forgive you," you whisper, your voice barely audible as you speak. "And... I'm sorry too. For the way I've acted, for... everything."

Mingyu's eyes soften at your words, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Thank you," he says, his voice filled with gratitude. "And... I hope we can start over. Put all this behind us and... move forward."

In the bustling city where love often feels like just another commodity, you found something rare and precious in the countryside with Mingyu – an intense and fast connection that seemed to defy all logic and expectation. It was as if you could parachute jump into this feeling without a second thought, without fear of falling.

[taub-truther]

Can we talk about Taub's Porsche for a second?

I read it as sort of a multipart symbol. First, his wife's love of him. The car is something that he wants as a fantasy, but that isn't even on his radar with all the shit House has been implying about Rachel's secret savings account. When she first reveals that he'll have a new car in a few days, Taub goes from expecting the worst to utter disbelief and joy that she would make that particular desire happen for him.

But we see some bitterness there too. That's because the car also represents the hill of lies on which Rachel has built her love. She sees Taub as someone who belongs behind the wheel of that car. But he has a moment of realization: I didn't trust her. I don't deserve this.

Third, I'd argue the Porsche Cayenne, as a classic "midlife crisis mobile," also at its core represents Taub's unfulfillment (or whatever you want to call it). It's pretty and shiny and impractical, very popular amongst middle aged dudes trying to feel young and cool, much like the younger women he can't resist. But even as a wish-fulfillment fantasy, it can't make him happy. He looks at the car and his expression is sort of empty, then guilt-ridden, almost pained. Beyond his betrayal of vows, he simply can't feel what Rachel wants him to feel. It's true of the car, and it's true of their marriage.

We find out later on that he wants to be a dad, but Rachel doesn't want kids. Looking back to this episode, we see that there's no room in his Porsche OR his marriage for the kind of life he wants deep-down. He knows this car is forever going to be a reminder of his failings as a husband, the love he really doesn't deserve, AND his longing for something he'll never have.

This is the moment where all his self-delusions (i.e., protecting Rachel's happiness by keeping up his lies) come crashing down, absolutely crushing him with guilt. Maybe he HAD hoped she'd been doing something underhanded so that he could forgive her for something... but no. All her secrets literally WERE to make him happy.

Taub simply can't live with that. He has to tell her the truth, come what may, because he wants to be the man who can deserve the car, the love, the life he needs. gee, let's see how long that resolve lasts...

[snickerdoodlles]

headcanons behind the fic: Kim's view on Wik in long & short

His Wik persona is just another mask, something shiny under a spotlight so that people watch it instead of him. It gives them something to love so he can pretend his little fantasy world is real, just for a little bit, but it's not fully him. Kim does not like people noticing him, career choices aside.

this actually isn't quite true. Kim's not lying, but he is struggling to put his feelings into words.

because Kim loves Wik. Wik isn't just an escape for him, Wik is who Kim wants to be. "the side of me I like best" except that side of him is the home he's been meticulously handcrafting and building for years into everything he desperately yearns to hold.

but Kim also seems to carry a lot of guilt over Wik, because Kim feels that he needs to give up his brothers to achieve his dream of Wik (see, his introduction speech). I think Kim's dream doesn't feel achieved or even fully real to him yet either because he hasn't truly given up his brothers (see, his motivation behind digging into Porsche). Kim sees Wik as a fantasy because he wants it so desperately, but Kim doesn't think he deserves the things he wants and he struggles to reconcile having Wik while also being involved in the mafia.

and then, on top of alllll that, I see Kim always having a bit of a weird relationship with the spotlight. on one side, he's a private person and I see him as having a lot of emotional baggage from the way Korn treats people as things (Korn raised his sons to fulfill roles, not be their own people). not to mention, social media by definition is a mask and I see Kim feeling that schism more acutely than the average socmed user because he masks so much for other (unsavory) purposes irl. but on the flip side, Kim desperately wants to be seen as a person not a tool or role. for all his inclinations to tuck away his vulnerable sides where they're hidden away from all, creative expression is putting out your vulnerabilities for others to see and feel and anyone looking on these soft spots and caring blows his mind in every way he craves. I think Kim loves using music to express himself, loves the ambiguity of how he puts himself out there through his creativity, and even likes that he does have a persona where he can express some of these things a little more directly, yet also struggles to reconcile it as a real part of him and shies away from the directness & closeness socmed provides.

(Chay is like, tailor made to reach into Kim's ribcage and shake. Chay's extreme knowledge on his music videos is someone choosing to put his art under a microscope out of love, his giggly happiness for just a signature and some words of encouragement even after Kim turned down his tutoring request (!!!!) probably had Kim poking his fingers together and smiling through the rest of the night, and then Chay has to go and say earnest and kind things like "i like all sides of you" and "you inspire me" their first proper meeting too boot. Chay looked at Wik (Kim) and saw someone worth being inspired by and Wik (he) impacted Chay's life in a good way. how was Kim ever expected to survive this?)

so, wrapping this thought up: Kim has a lot of jumbled feelings about Wik as a social media presence due to the cognitive dissonance of who you are as a person vs an online persona-- which can jumble up anyone even before we add in Kim's own reservedness or the tower of elephants that's the mafia-- but he loves Wik and desperately wants to be seen as a person by (everyone) those around him.

[mortimerlatrice]

Werewolf Kinn??? 👀

- @everybody-hit-the-pyro-cue

One snippet each!

Kinn indulges himself. He lets Porsche feed him and Kinn returns the favor, offering Porsche cooked fish straight from Kinn's hand. He delights in the way Porsche licks his lips after — running over the place where Kinn's fingers had grazed against them.

He lets Porsche believe there's no good way out of the handcuffs.

By the third day, late in the night after Porsche kissed him while they bathed, he's realized this is more dangerous than he expected. If Porsche rejected Kinn outright, even when Kinn has little control over his instincts from the full moon, Kinn is sure he wouldn't do anything.

But if Porsche goads Kinn on, like he did the night of the auction, Kinn won't be able to control himself.

The day of the full moon, Kinn wakes up feeling like his skin is too tight. His joints ache and his gums itch.

It's not like he has to shift every full moon. It's just easier not to fight the urge. In his current state, exhausted and hungry, he's not sure he'll have control over it at all.

NSFW behind the cut 😈

Warning for implied sex while shifted/in wolf/beast form. Mild dub-con warning because Kinn is shifted, has lowered inhibitions, and cannot speak, and Porsche hasn't figured out what's going on yet (but once he does he's enthusiastically on board). ENJOY ✨️

Porsche is suddenly so turned on that he's dizzy with it. Kinn knows how sensitive his chest is, just like he knows how sensitive Porsche's neck is. Porsche might not remember everything from the night they spent together, but he remembers Kinn teasing him, leaving marks over his chest, neck, and thighs.

Kinn isn't randomly nipping at what's in front of him; he is intentionally toying with Porsche.

Trying to rile him up.

He's proven right when the pressure on his shoulder move's downwards, mirroring the movement of Kinn's great muzzle, a claw scraping unerringly over Porsche's other nipple. Porsche can't help the whimpering moan that leaves his throat at the sensations.

Kinn's ears twitch forward at the sound and Kinn repeats the movement, running his tongue and claws across Porsche's chest, drawing another whimper out of Porsche.

This feels unreal. He's never even seen a fully shifted werewolf before — they're rare enough as it is — and now he's got one looming over him, like he's... like Kinn's trying to fuck him.

Porsche wonders if that's even possible.

He glances down, past where Kinn's eyes are glittering up at him, sliding his eyes past the shiny tongue, and the flash of white teeth.

Despite the brightness of full moon, Kinn's belly and between his legs is just a mass of shadows and dark fur.

Porsche swallows thickly. He probably shouldn't feel disappointed that he can't see Kinn's cock.

[aaakikoo]

EVEN EVEN MORE ODDLY SPECIFIC BAKUGOU KATSUKI HEADCANONS

an -> check out pt1 & pt2 ! I tried to make more this time lol. This is part 3

1. professional cooker? it’s pretty obvious but like the food he makes is immaculate??? Like, top tier kind of desserts and meals? And the man won’t open his self driven restaurant (not that he has time to)

2. Knows how to do eyeliner better than you do, different kind of wings too, don’t ask why.

3. Takes care of his nails, it’s really random but like I feel he would have certain day(s) every week where he would only cut his nails during. Also he files them and takes care of them with nail oil.

4. likes flowers, very very much.

5. Biggest bully ever during secondary school. I see many people who romanticize him during that time but like I personally feel he would be the biggest bully ever who would call other people ‘gay’ as an insult & laughs at slightly chubby people specifically girls, and says every other slur there is in the book.

6. Only wears black socks.

7. Doesn’t use products of companies who animal test.

8. Prefers gold over silver.

9. I feel like he would make you buy him clear lipglosses he can use, bc like he want to be looking pretty with shiny lips n everything, but like not too much? He only wants shiny lips so he wouldn’t ask for red or pink glosses for example. He wants to hold on to his masculinity 💀

10. Has the mentality of Arab guys. Toxic, mansplains / manhandles everything, annoying, attractive & doesn’t show their emotions bc they’re alpha bros 💀💀

11. Doesn’t like earbuds, prefers headphones.

12. Has peanut allergy, idk why.

13. Has been to every single country in the world. Except a few 😬 ifykyk

14. Super interested in politics, like very and extremely.

15. Him and his friends went through the “I’m homiesexual” era, it was cringe but fun, he would laugh at himself everything he remembers it.

16. So this might be controversial but he would never, AND I MEAN NEVER call his partner “Teddy bear” 💀💀 this is Bakugou we are talking about, he wouldn’t even call his child that, those words would never escape his mouth not even ironically.

17. A very clean and organized person.

18. Has a 10 year journal, yep 👍

19. Believes in one higher power, like god, I don’t think he would be Hindu or Buddhist more of like Christian, Jew or Muslim. He believes in only one higher power, and that higher power is different from mankind.

20. Very academically smart but very stupid otherwise.

21. Really good at ice skating ? ⛸️

22. has a big attractive sexy nose, don’t ask any questions.

23. Brushes his teeth 3 times a day. After he eats breakfast, before he sleeps & after dinner.

24. Has a black phone.

24. Has a car collection, Porsches, Lamborghinis, Teslas & limousines, etc.

25. Absolutely loses his mind if one of his many cars gets a single little scratch.

26. Loves to watch ASMR restocking videos on social medias. He would even watch a compilation of them on YouTube.

27. Cringes whenever he visits someone who have a ‘home sweet home’ carpet.

28. Loves cats.

29. Had a leather jacket, motorcycle, all girls are the same & ‘why do good girls like bad guys’ phase, he absolutely regrets his life.

30. Loves cartoon shows, his favorite are adventure time, the amazing world of gumball & we bare bears.

[chocopuchino]

cw: SFW, FLUFF

BOKUAKA. BOKKUN AND MSBY <3 I made this in 20 mins, idk shit about motorcycles and streets in english so don't come at me pls (ducati bike looks good) and yes this is the elaboration for my biker bokuto koutarou thought ᕙ⁠(⁠ ⁠ ⁠•⁠ ⁠‿⁠ ⁠•⁠ ⁠ ⁠)⁠ᕗ

MSBY BJ at their prime locker talks but they're flexing their rides. Someone has a Ferrari, someone a Porsche, someone a Lamborghini and the list goes on, until a very intrigued Bokuto chimes in with a smirk, talking over.

"oh, you guys have cars? that's cool! I don't have one, 'cause I ride a motorcycle. :D"

The team immediately whips their head in disbelief to look at Bokuto, who's currently topless and confused at the stares.

"You... you have a motorcycle?" Sakusa asks with uncertainty, pointing a finger at him.

"Seriously, Bokkun? I don't believe ya one bit. You, out of everyone? No way," Atsumu laughs, pulling over a t-shirt on top of him.

"Woah, seriously Bokuto-san? You have a motorcycle? How come? We've never seen it, and we haven't seen you on it!" Hinata questions, and the whole team agrees.

In the span of a moment, from his overly big and messy gym bag, he pulls out a car— no, a key. A black, motorcycle key. with a smidge of red shaped like a shield at the top, silver borders with a strike in between, and the word DUCATI written neatly.

And as much as the men don't want to believe it, they're now suddenly faced to.

"Tadaa! Isn't she just gorgeous?" Bokuto exclaims proudly.

"Isn't... Akaashi-san a boy though?" Hinata asks confusedly.

Practice is over and they're all in front of the gym, seeing how Akaashi parks the bike in front of them, dusting his coat off and fixing his glasses as he makes his way towards him. He politely bows to them.

"Akaashi Keiji, editor in shonen manga magazines in a major publishing company. Bokuto-san had asked me to bring his bike over, so here it is." Akaashi greets calmly, glancing at everyone's faces, smiling a little at seeing Hinata.

"I-I meant the bike. Not Akaashi, but even though it's still true! both things. they're both gorgeous." Bokuto exclaims, hiding his embarrassment and stuttering, his cheeks warming up. He gently pecks Akaashi on the cheek, quite literally shocking the whole team (he forgot to tell them he's dating keiji) and asks once again.

"So, who wants a ride first !!?"

——————

"w-woah!! Bokuto-san, so fast!!!" Shoyo yells, clutching onto Bokuto even tighter. Bokuto leans front, increasing speed, fully focused on the road, not a single sound coming out of him. Shoyo's eyes sparkle at his energetic, loud and owl-like senpai, currently very quiet, serious and very cool looking.

After a quick round around a nearby highway, they're back again In front of the gym, the volleyball team surprised at seeing Shoyo in one piece. (bokuto obliged them to wait, akaashi kept them entertained.)

Shoyo gets off the bike, taking off the helmet, wobbly making his way to the men staring at him, arms dangling off his shoulders, almost able to puke. His hair is a mess after wearing the helmet, while Bokkun's hair looks even spikier. He grips on Atsumu's sleeve and almost collapses, clearing his throat and looking up at him— big shiny stars in his eyes.

"that was super cool!! You have to get on, Bokuto-san is an amazing driver!!! You might not believe me, but he was insanely quiet, he looked so cool and serious too!! I really, really didn't expect him to drive like that!!" Shoyo exclaims, looking over at the other men staring at him in disbelief.

Atsumu's eyes widen and he scoffs, taking Shoyo's hands off his sleeve, making his way towards owl head. "No way, Shoyo can't be serious? You? Quiet? Yeahhhhhhh... Can't believe 'at. Give me a ride and we'll see, yeah?"

the whole of MSBY rode Bokuto's bike that evening, and, never underestimated or didn't believe him ever again.

[thewholedamnboulangerie]

reverse uno? :D

hiiiiiiiii!! :D

SO. Reverse Uno is, i think, the very first KinnPorsche fic I started writing (okay nope I just checked, it was the second - til the daylight comes has it beaten by 2 whole weeks lol) - it was a vague idea that started kicking around in my head almost immediately after the show ended, and involved Tankhun finding out about The KimChay Of It All™, deciding to matchmake them back together, and Chay immediately realising what he's doing and just going "...okay well. reverse uno. i see the way you and Arm look at each other and I'm gonna matchmake you right back 😌"

BUT ALAS I got distracted by MANY other shiny ideas, and this one fell by the wayside and has not been picked up in a VERY long time. Given how long the outline for this was (there were a LOT of shenanigans, including Tay being inducted as Chay's partner in crime) and the lack of inspiration I've had for it for the past [checks notes] year, it will probably never be finished, but I still really really like the opening! so I've put it under the cut:

Throughout the three glorious decades thus far that Khun Tankhun Theerapanyakul had deigned to grace the earth with his presence, there had certainly never been a shortage of epithets employed to describe him. Once upon a time, he was loudly proclaimed to be ‘heir’; in recent years, the ever-present whispers of gossip preferred to deem him ‘lunatic’; always, for as long as he can remember, above all else, he had been ‘brother’.

Of course, none of those titles were ones that he’d had the chance to choose himself.

He’d have chosen the last one, if the choice had been his. The other two? Or practically any of the other descriptors that the constant swirl of staff and guards and hard-eyed business associates through the mansion’s doors might have thought to affix to him? Not so much.

Perhaps, he mused, it was time to select one on his own terms.

---

“Oracle?”

“Oracle,” Tankhun confirmed, with a vigorous nod of his head. “The Oracle of Bangkok, Khun Tankhun Theerapanyakul. Or - the Oracle of Thailand? Maybe I should broaden my horizons a bit more.” He paused for a moment, frowning. “Arm! Do you think my horizons are sufficiently broad?”

Arm raised an eyebrow. “I think your horizons can safely be described as the route between this mansion and Hum Bar, Khun Nu. If you wish to broaden them, I’d appreciate if you could give me a few days’ notice to work out an updated security protocol.”

Tankhun huffed out an affronted sigh. “Metaphorical horizons, Arm! In my newly-discovered capacity as a sacred vessel for esoteric knowledge and prophecy!”

“Oh!” All eyes turned to Pol. “Is that what oracle means?”

Arm hid a smile in the cuff of his sleeve. “And what wisdom would you care to enlighten us with, Khun Oracle of Bangkok or possibly Thailand?”

Tankhun narrowed his eyes, at that - any time he heard anything remotely similar to that sort of tone directed at himself, it usually had him raising his hackles, was usually too patronising and cloying to merely be considered teasing.

But this was Arm, and there was no malice to be seen in his eyes as he met Tankhun’s from across the room. Just honest playfulness, of the sort that Arm would occasionally indulge in when Tankhun and the closest of his bodyguards were alone together, with only themselves as witnesses.

(Come to think of it, that playfulness had been a fraction less rare since Porsche arrived in their lives. Tankhun made a mental note that it was one more thing he had to thank Porsche for.)

[the-wayside]

Another Sunday, another rambling snippet of my poor bemused brain cells. Again, it's not really anything but a stream of consciousness of a concept but since I don't have anything else to share, this is all I got.

the next move. 1k+, t (language). cop!Kinn and dancer!Porsche.

It’s a helluva day when Kinn finally gets off and gets home. The weight of multiple open case files with narrower and narrower leads can suffocate a person, but it’s nothing new to him. He’s been a detective in the homicide unit for five years; the youngest ever to be promoted out of uniform. He knows that it is the slithering ties of his father. Not that his father had anything to do with it, but Kinn has had more than a few black eyes for holding the name Theerapanyakul. Not just from cops, from old allies and now foes. He takes the bruised ribs and seething anger and he puts it behind him for one person and one person alone: Mama.

He couldn’t save her, he knows that, but hell if he’s going to be a part of the thing that killed her.

Kinn unholsters his gun and places it down on the counter. His place is small but open plan, kitchen inside the left of the door through to the living room and only the bedroom and bathroom are behind closed doors. He doesn’t lift his hand off when he thinks he sees a glint in the bedroom, a flicker of light changing in the tiny crack. He grips the handle when the door swings open.

“Kinn?” Porsche rubs his eye with a curled up fist, “You’re home?”

He’s yanked up the thin sheet around his waist like a towel and he’s clutching it in one hand, looking rumpled and lost.

Kinn is used to Porsche letting himself in. He was like a lost stray cat that Kinn found on the streets after a particularly bad scrap outside a strip joint and Porsche had clawed and hissed at him the whole time Kinn took him home and cleaned his wounds. They weren’t even lovers to begin with. They were barely begrudging friends until Porsche realized he could trust Kinn to patch him up and not turn him into the cops when he found out what Kinn did.

So, like any animal that gets fed and petted, Porsche kept coming around. First, illegally, through any open door, window, or thing he could jimmy and when Kinn got tired of replacing the locks, he gave Porsche a key.

“Hey, go back to sleep,” Kinn tells him quietly as he turns around to get a glass of water from the sink.

“Bad day?” Porsche shuffles in his bed toga to sit on the stool on the other side of the counter to Kinn.

He gulps down the cool liquid and sets the glass into the sink, “Shit.”

Porsche offers Kinn his hand, palm up, and Kinn puts his on top, holding Porsche’s slender wrist, “Come to bed.”

Kinn smiles because it shows him how well Porsche knows him and his inability to let his work lie. He was going to boot up his old work laptop and see if he couldn’t pick anything out of the case tumbleweeds.

“I’m sweaty,” Kinn tells him and Porsche shrugs. “I need to shower.”

“You love when I come to bed sweaty.” Porsche curls his fingers around Kinn’s wrist to hold him too.

He does. He loves the heated, manly smell of Porsche that he mixes with whatever shiny butter concoction they slather on his body when he works. He was a go-go dancer when Kinn first met him and now his hips tell no lies about how they move around the pole. With a slender but powerful body, Porsche makes more as a dancer than he ever would in school. Kinn doesn’t interfere because Porsche can make his own decisions but he isn’t a statue that doesn’t give a shit when his beautiful partner dances for someone else. When that happens, he closes his eyes and holds Porsche that bit tighter when he surfaces in Kinn’s room.

“Come on,” Porsche cajoles, and Kinn never really needs more than that from him. He lets Porsche lead him by the hand back to what has now become their room and closes the door.

Somewhere between kissing a path down Porsche’s smooth sternum and rolling off of his back, spent, the rain had started to come down and hard.

Porsche snuggles up on his chest and doodles on Kinn, fingers sloping over the dips and grooves of Kinn’s ribs.

“I don’t like the rain,” Porsche says quietly. It plinks like musical notes on the sloping windowpanes and Porsche is facing inward, towards Kinn with his back to the windows so he doesn’t have to see it.

Kinn won’t tell him but he ran a background check and knows that he was in an accident with his parents in the rain as a child. He survived, they did not. He scoops Porsche in tighter and kisses the top of his head.

Porsche murmurs and Kinn doesn’t quite catch him, but he repeats it, “I got promoted.”

“Congratulations, baby,” Kinn knows how hard he works and how much he wanted to work behind the bar because he’s good at that stuff.

“Hey, Kinn—” Porsche starts but doesn’t say anything until he follows up with, “Nothing.”

Kinn wakes up and the rain has cleared and his bed is empty, save him in it. He stretches because that’s normal. Porsche is an early riser when he wants to make it home to be there for his brother. He rolls up to pull on yesterday’s underwear just long enough for him to get his prerequisite push ups and sit ups done before he goes into the bathroom for a shower. He scrubs himself, grabs his robe and walks back out to the kitchen for a quick scrambled egg and toast breakfast before he picks up his phone.

He's got one text from Porsche: I’m really sorry, Kinn.

He doesn’t find out why until a week later when he’s at a new murder scene in the bar across from Porsche’s with a body that has the symbol for the Italian mafia branded into its back. The plainclothes officers are rounding up witnesses and potential suspects and he sees Porsche at the back. He looks smarter than Kinn has ever seen him in a plain olive green suit and crisp white shirt that compliments his complexion. He looks nothing like the fighting dancer that he helped in a back alleyway from getting the sense kicked out of him.

He doesn’t need Porsche to tell him. He’s seen enough men around his father to know why he looks the way he looks.

“Kinn—” Porsche’s tone is soft and pleading.

Mama, he thinks. She’s always his first thought but then that one is gutted by Porsche.

“Don’t,” Kinn tells him and Porsche’s mouth shuts with an audible click. “Go to the police station, tell them what they want to hear so that you can come home and tell me the truth.”

Kinn walks away from him and the scene and calls his boss, taking a rare half day so that he can go home and figure out how the fuck this happened.

His phone pings and he expects Porsche but it’s an unknown number with two words: Queen’s sacrifice?

[bookofmajora]

Why is it that when Jesse calls Walt or shows up unannounced at his house Walt is allowed to get pissed and tell him not to come around because his wife or kid might be home?

But when Walt shows up to Jesse’s house unannounced in Crawl Space, Jesse unexpected to just let Walt come in even though Jesse is clearly busy having a family night with his girlfriend and kid?

How is this any different?

Or even the fact that Walt makes fun of Jesse’s bright red tricked out low rider in season one, but we know that A: in a deleted scene, Walt used to have a red Porsche convertible before Flynn was born AND the first car he thinks to get with his new found wealth, not once but twice, is a shiny red Challenger?! How is that too different?

Why is a flashy car good for Walt and not Jesse? How is showing up at someone’s house unannounced and interrupting their family night ok for Walt to do but not Jesse?

Why is the is double standard there?

[nuwildcat]

WIP Wednesday Chapter 3

Happy WIP Wednesday, the first of 2023! Since we are coming to the end of All Along you were Blooming (It’s all written and currently in editing mode!) I thought I could give you all a little taster of the final chapter. Enjoy!

Tay’s never been to the minor family manor before. The sprawling complex winds through a market before the twisted hallways pull you in. Two burly guards escort him, and they chat with him along the way. By the time he’s entered the main courtyard, he’s gotten Map to show him his extensive collection of pictures featuring his adorable daughter and her newly acquired puppy.

They stop at the edges of the courtyard where Porsche is holding court, Big stands behind him, a solemn specter ensuring the attention is only on them. The juxtaposition of Porsche sprawled in a chair and Big’s strict posture would be comical if not for the trembling man in front of them.

Porsche stretches one of his long legs out and tips the man’s face up with the point of one very shiny shoe.

“Who do you work for?” Kinn is wearing off on him as the quiet command in his voice carries with no effort through the open courtyard.

The man in front of him splutters for a moment, unable to get a full sentence out. Big steps forward, no longer haunting behind Porsche. Instead, the threat of his violence is brought into the light; Tay is riveted. The tilt of his chin and hand on his gun implies a menacing threat that has the other man trembling. 

“Y..you, Khun Porsche.”

“Wrong,” Porsche’s tone seems patient, but the distinct cocking of Big’s gun implies otherwise. “Try again.”

“To…to the family, Khun Porsche,” he stammers.

Porsche tips his head to the side, and Big prowls forward to stand casually behind the man, increasing his trembling.

“And which family is that, Chatree?”

“The Theerapanyakuls.” It’s whispered as a prayer while the man turns his fate over to Porsche. 

“Good, Chatree. I won’t be reminding you again where your loyalties lie. Next time I’ll just send Big.”

The fear on the man’s face is ghastly as he turns over his shoulder to look at Big, who simply raises a condescending brow at him.

“Of course, Khun Porsche. Thank you for your mercy.” He scrambles backward, barely missing running into Big before clearing the courtyard as quickly as possible.

Tay’s aware this should be something that waves giant red flags in front of his eyes, but he’s been friends with Kinn most of his life, and his family still deals with the dirty side of the business. He’s been straddling the line of legitimacy all his life. A little threatened violence doesn’t scare him, nor does real violence.

There’s something there too. The menace that Big can weave into silent movement is impressive; it’s eye-catching. He can’t look away, not out of fear but out of desire. He wants to know what it would take to make a man like that kneel.

Want more? Catch up with the first two chapters here and look at @mortimerlatrice‘s bomb art: https://archiveofourown.org/works/43799214/chapters/110139132

Ugh I don’t want to let go of these two little nuggets. I’ve become very attached to both Big and Tay. I’m keeping them, so expect more of these boys.

[oshieteacapella]

KinnPorsche liveblog: ep.1 y 2

So I’ll be watching again (haven’t finished, I stopped at ep.11) with subtitles fixed so because the boys deserve to say fuck.

He is and you are the worst. They really started strong with this one, for a moment I thought “Um, head off the gutter” to myself, but no, it was intentional. 

Also: I thought this open shirt Kinn had going on was a character choice, but not, that’s just Mile. It’s his show, good for him!

THE QUEEN IS HERE!

Casually serving looks, main character lightning and slut energy all at once. Iconic.

I’ve seen this episode so I won’t stop at everything that catches my eye. BUT I HAVE TO MENTION THIS:

Big’s been less than 3 minutes in the show AND HE HAS ALREADY BEEN SHOT. This poor guy better have a room alone and paid holidays.

Posing while there is a gunfight next door. ALSO:

His neck deserves its own credits.

Porsche joined the team 1 hour ago and Big is already demoted and stressed.

Bodyguard MOM CHAN IS HERE!

This rich kids are never happy, always complaining: “ugh I asked Dad for a car, he got me a hot boyfriend” wow, your life is so sad, cry me a river.

You were a barman literally the past episode!

Khun is my favorite. He is shiny, he is loud, he is a single mum who works two jobs raised two kids and now just wants to have pets and watch his tv show in peace, is that too much to ask??

The only one who isn’t laughing. Pete, you big hearted puppy.

THIS IS BREAD’S FIRST SCENE, guys!!!!

This is the happiest Big has ever been in this house you can’t change my mind.

“Oh no, the brat is hot, I made a mistake, this is not going according to keikaku.”

Two gays enter to a bathroom... they are opposite types of gay. Get ready to FIGHT!

I love that he supports Kunn’s slutiness when they weren’t dating! also IDIOT hahaha they’ve been establishing Kunn’s as gay as they come since the first minute and EVERYONE KNOWS IT BUT this idiot.

VEGAS IS HERE. God, He’s so pretty and flirty. Who would have thought he is also psychotic and fond of soup, chains, hedgehogs and books?

[snickerdoodlles]

✨What's a fic you've posted you wish you could breathe life into again and have people talking about it? (or simply a fic you wish got more credit)

(prev) hmm, maybe Hair-Trigger? like, it got a good response, i'm very grateful to everyone who's read it ❤❤❤ i don't mean in a 'im looking for more hits' sort of way, i just really love Porsche & Kim as a duo and spin them around in my head like a shiny rock all the time. this mostly manifests in me spamming tortoise with Kim & Porsche snippets and thoughts that never seem to flesh out into proper fics, so Hair-Trigger has a special spot in my heart because it's my one finished Porsche & Kim fic and I want everyone to look at Porsche being extremely fond of Kim and Kim feeling all sorts of things about how fond Porsche seems to be of him (surely???? this is a trick????? he is so nice and smiley????????? a mystery)

💫what is your favorite kind of comment/feedback?

i like them all!! i genuinely enjoy all "types" of comments for different reasons, it feels weird to rank them against each other. so long as the comment is excited to engage with me/gush over idiot nerds together, i'm excited to answer and chat with them (although, i am. very behind on my inbox rn. hjghjg im sorry friends, i promise i will respond even tho it might be v late 😂💦)

💘Is there any posted fic you want to rework/re-edit/re-write?

I've actually been rewriting a *checks date* 5.5 yr old yoi WIP (*winces*) for a while now. very slow as my attention gets drawn away, but i love epistolary fic and there's a funny satisfaction without pressure to re-writing it.

but the story rewrite that actually has been sitting on my head for...forever really, is my ft story Jinxed. i was very new to fandom/writing fic when i first posted it, and at the time i'd just posted what i wrote and then went "...wait, how the fuck do you write a multi-chapter story???" and i really psyched myself out of posting more for it.

however, it's always like...sat in the back of my head, even after the fandom bullshit and when ft went to shit. because i just...don't like soulmate/soulmark AUs. 😅 the reasons behind my dislike for the trope are uh...kinda long and extensive actually, so i'll save that for a different post if anyone cares enough to ask, but the premise in this story of two girls with mismatched timers who fall in love and choose each other anyways is one i'm extremely drawn to. and i'm still like, figuring out how to write long stories, and i'm never going to write again for ft, so whenever i look over the old story drafts and notes, i'm actually thinking about it as an original story. not one i've started and maybe i'll stumble into a fandom that i want to apply this premise to, but...after i figure out long-form stories, i really want to swing by this one again, if simply to have it stop haunting my brain every few months.

(rest under the cut because i am rambly lol)

🌈is there a fic that you worked *really fucking hard on* that no one would ever know? maybe a scene/theme you struggled with?

hmm Silver for Truth is the obvious one since i whined about it taking a yr+ to write, but i think everyone understands when i say Tawan is an annoying ass bitch to write.

i'm actually going to cheat and say the freezer!Kim WIP i'm writing with @majestictortoise. there's a few different POVs in this story and one of them is Porsche's POV, and there is something about Porsche's POV specifically that i find very hard to capture. even when i know what i want from his arc and character struggles, post-canon Porsche carries around some conflicting beliefs and mindsets that i find really tricky to write, plus he's also a guy of action who's been forced to a standstill and i want to capture that trapped feeling without making it obnoxious. he's just tricky to me in a way that other characters aren't. (i actually ran into this issue with Hair-Trigger too, except it wasn't so hard because that's a fic about him Doing A Thing He Wants To Do, which is why i was able to write it within the timeframe i did. oh Porsche, ilu, why do u stick in my head so. orz)

🦋what are you most insecure about when you post a fic?

everything? idk, my reaction after i post a fic is to either Stare At My Inbox or desperately try to distract myself from the fact that i Posted A Fic, which really go to show how secure i feel about my writing 😂 i try very hard not to let a fic's reception get to me when i post because i've been down that road and it's really bad for me. all fic i post is fic for me, but i haven't hit the carefree attitude of "idc what you think, its for me first and foremost" yet.

🌻what makes you want to give up on writing? what makes you keep going?

there's nothing that makes me want to give up on writing specifically. i wail and cry when stuff isn't flowing right, but like. so i had an irl thing run me over like a truck april/may of this year and it's bullshit kept spilling out through june and july too, so i had like no time or energy to write or even spend much time on fandom stuff for four months, and i went absolutely bananas. i need to do something creative to feel good, and writing is my favorite of those.

posting...posting is a different story 😂 weirdly if im chasing the high of posting a fic/the high of comments on fic, i dont like to post as much. the hill in my head is too much to get around, so that ig.

🌿how does creating make you feel?

*points up*

also prev

🍉in what ways has writing helped you process trauma and/or navigate through your own life?

...this is such a weird question lmao (not u, the person who made the question list should have deleted this). i've always found writing as a good way of examining my internal biases and preconceptions i might not have otherwise had opportunity to find and reflect upon so clearly, and i'm going to leave it at that.

🎈describe your style as a writer; is it fixed? does it change?

fuck if i know what my writing style is 😂

🎀give yourself a compliment about your own writing

*curls up in more shy* hmm, i really like reading my own stories. like, i always have cyclic periods of "oh god this is garbage what the fuck was i thinking" feelings for each of my fics, but i know now that feeling is brief and it'll be gone soon enough and it will stay gone longer than it comes. the person who reads my stories the most is me, and the fact that i want to go back to read them again is really important to me.

🎉how often do you celebrate completing & posting a work? how often do you give yourself the credit/validation that you seek from others when you post? (if you don't, you should!)

i don't think i linger so much on the actual posting of the fic, but i return to my fics a lot and i've also started paying more attention to how much i post. i'm trying to find a balance between acknowledging that i posted stories vs "oh god, im not posting ENOUGH," but back at the turn of this year, i was really bummed that i didn't get as much posted during december as i had set out to do, specifically because i felt like 2021 had been a really strong year and i'd let myself down not finishing as many fics in 2022. then i actually checked my AO3 stats for 2021 to 2022, and realized i'd posted 4x as much in 2022 than i had in 2021. over 100k words altogether even!

i think i'm getting off topic, but between rereading my own stuff pretty frequently and trying to get a better grasp on how much i've actually posted vs what's in my head, i think i celebrate pretty often? idk 😂

💞what's the most important part of a story for you? the plot, the characters, the worldbuilding, the technical stuff (grammar etc), the figurative language

characters!!! everything's built around the characters. i love worldbuilding, making up worlds is a lot of fun, but i worldbuild through the lens of "what am i interested in?" (which starts with characters) and "how does this affect x?" (because if it doesn't matter to/affect the character, it shouldn't be a priority to me). similarly, plots exist for me to put Specific Guys Into Situations. a plot can be objectively interesting, but i'm not going to stick to it if i don't care about the people going thru it, my brain just doesn't focus like that.

the actual writing of the story is lowest priority on my list. there's a lot of writing types i don't like, but i can muscle thru a lot in the name of a good cast or plot. similarly, i don't give a flying fuck how pretty or polished a writer thinks their sentences are, if the actual story is boring or OOC, i am not reading it. or i am reading it and bitching extensively in friends DMs, which is worse. 😂

💝what is a fic that got a different response than you were expecting?

honestly, hard for me to answer because i'm actively trying not to think about what sort of response i do get. i guess one that still amuses me quite a bit is the response to my fic Shining Dishonesty (howls moving castle AU for haikyuu!!). i love this story to bits and i really love the comments i have on it, but it's weird/funny to me because it's my most recommended and mentioned fic on twitter, but it's one of my lowest in terms of kudos & comments. idk what's up with that 😂

🤍what's one fic of yours you think people didn't "get"?

*big shrug emoji* nothing that comes to mind???

maybe Silver for Truth, just a little bit???? everyone got the message of "get fucked Tawan" but there was also a little more pity for Tawan than i'd expected. like, not really, because Tawan's annoying, but i don't know that everyone quite caught Khun's trap for Tawan in it. Tawan could've completely turned things around for Vegas and ruined Kinn's lie by confessing his own failures/betrayals and accepting the consequences, except Tawan puts himself before all others, even someone he claims to love.

🕯️was there a fic that was really hard on you to write, or took you to a place you didn't think it would take you?

honestly? i don't remember the specific writing issues once something is done. even for something that takes me a while to write. usually my writing hang-ups are related to irl stressors. Pitch It was an extremely hard fic for me to write, but that was because it had a deadline attached to it while i was also trying to come up with money for a new car after my previous one was totaled 😂 and while i approach all stories with a vague plot in mind, it's purposefully vague so i can adapt to where's best for the story to go. that's the part i look forward to the most when writing lol.

💥find your least kudos'd fic - say something wonderful about it.

lol i don't even have to sort my stories to know which one is my least number of hits/kudos. it's by dawn's early light, which i wrote for the bnha myths zine, and it is literally one of my favorite fics i've ever written. there's some stuff i would've done differently now, but i liked it when i finished it, i liked even thru that fucking project's mess, and i liked it enough to post it after the project was finished, and that is probably the highest praises i can give that particular fic.

(this response probably doesn't make much sense to anyone who hasn't participated in a zine before and i'm not going to burden you with context if you haven't, but like. trust me. that's saying a lot 😂)

🍭why did you start writing?

to make a dick joke. i haven't changed.

💎why is writing important to you?

it's just fun. i really like doing it and i really like connecting with people over it/through it.

🪄what is your post-writing/sharing aftercare? How do you take care of yourself or celebrate yourself when you've finished a fic?

i re-read the story about a bajillion times in that first week. you'd think i'd be sick of it by the time it's posted, but the satisfaction of having finished something changes the way i read it and i just bask in that.

📡why is writing and sharing your writing important for fandom?

another terrible question in this otherwise nice questions list.

i like it, so i do it, and i'm lucky enough to have made friends through it.

🎙️which one of your fics would you like someone to make a pod-fic of?

i'm excited if anyone wants to make a podfic of my work and i give general permission for it, but it's not something i seek out specifically. i have very bad ears, it just doesn't really cross my mind.

🤲what do YOU get out of writing?

*points up however many questions ago* it's very fulfilling for me and i like it a lot. i'm lucky enough to have also made connections to others by way of writing, but first and foremost is i enjoy the actual act of it.

💋when you leave comments on a fic, do you want to hear back from the writer?

maybe? idk, i leave comments because i like to leave comments. i like hearing back, but its not like im leaving a comment looking for that. wrong mindset for this question, u know?

☯️how do you think engaging with each other through tumblr, twitter, comments, kudos, creates healthy fandom experiences? How do you deal with that if you're not a social person/experience social anxiety?

*sighs* this fucking questionnaire maker lmao.

responding to fics is fun for everyone. it's a great way to make new friends if that's the fandom experience you're hoping for (same goes for responding to edits, art, etc). if you're anxious to start talking to people or leaving comments or whatever, take the babysteps you need to try to push and expand your comfort zone. and be gentle on yourself -- there's no "right" way to interact with fandom, and you don't have to be perfect at what you want to do right away either.

but if that's not the way you want to interact with fandom, you don't have to. there's nothing wrong with "lurking" and frankly i care about my stuff being enjoyed (even if i never hear about it!), not the ~proper~ way to be in fandom or whatever. furthermore, my healthy fandom experience is regulating and maintaining my own reactions to the reception (or lack of) i get when i post so that it stays fulfilling for me, and that's how i create my healthy fandom experience.

🧿what steps do you take to not take things personally if a fic doesn't do well, or if your writing/posting/sharing experience isn't going how you'd like it to?

mostly i look inwards to see what exactly im dissatisfied with and examine why. there's plenty of stuff that i wish had a bigger reception, but i focus on things that i can control (what im happy with in a story, what i enjoyed about the process, talking about it more in my own blog space so people can choose to engage or ignore, etc) and push myself to that framework of mind. the worst thing you can do is focus on things you can't control, especially something as random and fickle as other people's reactions or a post/story hitting the trend wave just right.

💌share something with us about an up-and-coming work (WIP) that has you excited!

timeloop AU!! (prev)

timeloop AU will be 3 chapters + an epilogue. first chapter is Kim POV, the second one is Big POV, and third is Chay POV. Kim is the first one trapped in the timeloop. Big joins him later. Chay never does.

💌share something with us about an up-and-coming work (WIP) that has you excited!

in my fic Single Star Review, Khun goes to university and then starts seeking extra therapy help. i am Extremely excited for this one, but one of my favorite-favorite parts of it is Khun dismissively says "it's not like i can call Kim and gossip about boys" and Flop (the therapist, no that's not actually his name) asks Khun "why not" and Khun stares through a wall for a solid three minutes realizing hey, he CAN call Kim to talk about boys actually.

-later that night-

Khun: Kim! Kimmy-Kim my littlest kin! forget your other plans, tonight we are painting our nails and gossiping about BOYS

Kim: what the fuck

Khun: my therapist thinks i should try talking to you about stuff

Kim: THERAPIST?!

Khun: THAT'S NOT THE IMPORTANT PART HOW DO I HANDLE HAVING A CRUSH

(Kim is, ofc, over the moon and extremely excited when his brain catches up with his ears, even though he's a total little brother about it.)

💌share something with us about an up-and-coming work (WIP) that has you excited!

Red Line fic is the first installment of a 4-fic series (tortoise is laughing at me for thinking it'd stop with 1). mostly because it immediately dived into one of my favorite variations for how Chay kills Korn.

Korn's death is not a fix-it.

[khathastrophe]

ALRIGHT LADS HEAR ME OUT

Kinnporsche mermaid/pirate AU

I pitched it to my friends earlier but I need discussion on this

so i am thinking pirate family theerapanyakuls?

probably rich enough they could basically be a royalty anyway like so so rich they actually don't need to even captain anymore they have a whole island of organised pirates to rule, except organised piracy is basically just a government and some pirates and/or actual governments REALLY do not like that

so Kinn ends up idk sent somewhere by his father or kidnapped or idk I am making this up as I go and he ends up on like an abandoned island? maybe they mutiny-ed just dropped him off there Jack Sparrow style anyway enter a lil shit merman (which wtf Kinn didn't even know those existed) who is here to make fun of a poor poor sailor boy

Maybe they just threw him overboard and Porsche to the rescue like in the original

"I'll get you out of here if you give me some of those human shiny things" cause there is WAY less sunken treasure than legends would lead you to believe

Listen i have not yet figured out if these are one of those "i grow legs when plot requires" mermaids or if it will be some sort of deal on Porsche's side akin to the hand sacrifice?? but it's a tail sacrifice??.... like Barbie Mermaidia (the superior mermaid themed television) idk but perhaps he needs help from Kinn too something to do with Chay probably??

idk fellas should I keep brainstorming this what is the consensus?

[antylope]

How everyone is so rich around me??

Today, which is 25th July I went on my evening walk as usual to clear my mind and think about stuff.

To my surprise I saw a nice Bentley, a few really well-kept, expensive shiny BMWs... and a Lamborghini. Then the realisation hit me - what the hell is going on? How is everybody so rich? Even a little kid riding his bike saw that car and said to his father: "Daddy! Do you also see that? Do you see it?!?!". That's how big of an impression it made to everyone around me, of course, me included.

To give you some context, I live in a small-ish town of 50.000 people, in a not that rich country in Europe. It's not a western highly developed country like France or Germany, although it is catching up. But what the hell? How can they afford it?

The more I thought about it, the more I started to grasp what is happening around me. There are atleast 4 Teslas in my town, a Dodge Challenger, one Bugatti, 2 porsches. For those who don't really care about cars, all of the cars I named here are luxury, expensive cars. It is pretty much a daily thing for me to notice such vehicle. There are WAY TOO MANY expensive cars around me for that kind of a town! It's like everyone around me just has all of this money that I could only dream of. I know some people definitely rent this car, but come on! I'm sure a high percent of them are the owners. What do these people even do for a living? How could they gather such capital to acquire that beautiful car?

This recognition gave me some sort of weird feeling of inner motivation withing me. If they can, so do I. But I am just an average human - for whom such amount of money is even unimaginable. Most people only can afford buying an apartament for a mortgage that they'll have to pay off for the next 25 years. Is it because of their mindset? Is it because of their habits? Is it because of their beliefs? Work ethic? Dedication? Ambition? Social status? No idea.

But I know one thing - I feel very motivated to take action now. To work extra hard, so one day I can buy an expensive car and not worry about how much it costs. There MUST be something I don't know, that millionaires do. I want to achieve something in this life. I want to find purpose. I want to put all of my effort into something, so someday I can feel like them. I want to prove something to MYSELF. Not to prove others.

Anyways, it is 10 pm now. So I'll go to bed in order to wake up early tomorrow. If you have any questions feel free to ask. As always, I'll try to answer all of them.

[teethpaste]

Men are despicable. I met this guy through a friend when we went off roading / to a Porsche car meet up. He was very friendly/smart/hot/does a bunch of rally racing/runs a firm. He got in some accident ~10 years ago and is paralyzed and in a wheelchair. I told my friend I thought he was sooooo cute and our brief conversation was great and very engaging. He relayed the messages and the guy said the same of me. Then revealed to my friend he has a (On and off for the past 6 years) girlfriend that LIVES WITH HIM.

He slid into my DMs and we’ve been chatting since. Very casual. No compliments or direct flirting. But it still gave me the ick bc if his girlfriend knew I could assure she would not be happy. You may be asking - why do you continue to talk to him then. That’s a great question! Maybe I am a little terrible too.

Anyways, he did the thing all men do. I can tell he is drunk and is at some retreat for the weekend. He just sends a message that some stranger says “my energy is incredible” and I read it and just rolled my eyes. This car man doesn’t KNOW me. The stranger certainly doesn’t either. It is so clear to me he’s full of lust and I am a shiny object bc he has grown bored in his long term relationship. There is truly no hope out here. The idea that a man in a LTR would even dance around the idea of throwing away ~6 years because I complimented him without knowing he was with someone? He just told me we have plans for Monday (we don’t) and he wants to take me for coffee. I responded and asked “will your girlfriend be joining us?”

He has promptly left it on read

[enz1an]

53/Just A Car

'It's just a car,' Vale thought, wandering along a scrapyard under a depressingly gray sky, 'Just a car.'

It was a desolate place, eerily quiet and barren save for the dozens, maybe hundreds of wrecked cars piled up around him. They were all in a more or less sorry state. Most were still somewhat recognizable, but some were stripped down to nothing more than a bleak frame, just bare metal, weathered and rusted. They looked like skeletons, shadows of their former shape. Quite apocalyptic, really. If all of humanity was gone, this is what he'd imagine the world to look like. Empty and destroyed.

He wasn't here for parts, not even for himself, really. His own car was parked safely off the premises, and now he was following the rather vague directions of the sole overseer of this scrapyard that had pointed him to an area in a far corner of the yard. Walking along, nearing his destination, loose gravel and sand crunching away under his steps, he found the cars here looked newer, somehow. Just as damaged, yet the paint on them was still shiny, no rust had had a chance to overtake them yet. These must've been the new arrivals, which meant he was getting closer. Rounding an impressive stack of three cars that didn't seem as structurally sound as he'd like, he stopped.

There it was. From farther away, the car almost looked whole. The color glinted in the cold light that found its way through the unbroken cover of clouds above. Miami Blue, Vale remembered, a staple Porsche color. He'd never been fully sure if it really was blue or teal, to him it seemed like it had a touch of green. Now, he decided it was blue, blue and nothing else, a bright, uplifting color harshly contrasting the browns and reds of dirt and rust all around. It wasn't enough to cheer him up. Looking upon the Porsche, he felt nothing but dread.

Vale sighed deeply and closed his eyes, fighting down the fear he felt upon the vision, then he confronted it head-on. He furrowed his eyebrows and stared at this specific wreck. His brother's Porsche Cayman. Or what was left of it, anyway.

'Just a car,' Vale reiterated in his mind and crossed the last distance with determination. He had a job to do. Then he could leave.

He arrived at the car and stared, slowly circling it. It didn't look too bad from what he could see, largely intact structurally. The roof was scratched up, most of the windows were shattered or outright gone. That wasn't so bad. But Vale also knew this was only half of the whole picture. He was looking at the passenger side, but the impact had been on the other. Calming himself yet again, he took some more steps, approaching this side’s door. He couldn’t look into the car through the shattered window, so he had no idea what awaited him inside. He grabbed the door handle and pulled, but it didn’t give way. Either the car was somehow locked, or the frame was too bent for the door to open, despite looking fairly alright. Vale cursed and stepped back. Well, the other one would be open for sure. Slowly, he made his way around the hood of the car. The gold and red Porsche crest with the prancing horse in the middle was still shiny and glinted in the indirect light, but the closer he got to the driver's side, the worse the damage got. The right front light of the Cayman was broken in a way he'd never seen, the clear plastic literally split open like an eggshell to reveal the lights beneath, now obviously dark. Forever so. It made him feel an odd tug at his stomach, as if it was slowly sinking, dragging him with it, down to the ground. A hesitant, subliminal type of fear.  He really wasn't looking forward to what was to come.

Keeping his eyes trained on the ground out of unwillingness to look at the car, Vale walked to its side, turning, then looking up, and he stopped.

Everything stopped.

It felt like him and the whole world and time and space and the fabric of reality were frozen, the moment turning into a reflection of itself. He couldn't fully process what he was seeing, struggled to unify this - what he saw in front of him - with the memories of Gabe's Porsche.

Then the reflection broke, shattered into a million pieces, small like specks of dust, and Vale's mind resumed its function. The first clear emotion he could pinpoint was panic, pure fear, as he was whisked away onto a plane of memories and forced to remember the night, the very night that changed his worldview in such an unrelenting way.

He'd been pacing in the living room, worrying, praying, waiting for Gabe to come home. He'd already known something was up. Call it a brotherly bond, or strings of fate, something, some odd thing tying him to Gabe, and his heart had long been aching, long before his mind had begun to fantasize and fear all worst possible reasons why Gabe had not come home two hours after he'd texted him that he was on his way.

A cryptic message, it'd been.

'Coming home. I think I fucked up. Have a drink with me?'

'What did you fuck up, Gabe? What happened? Why are you not with Kyle?' Vale had asked himself. Again and again while he'd been waiting. And waiting. And waiting.

Until the sound of the doorbell had ripped through his thoughts, dispersing them like a fall storm would send dry leaves flying in all directions.

He'd felt relief, sweet relief, then more fear, more dread. Why...? Why would Gabe have rung the doorbell if he'd arrived through the garage with his car, as he always did? He should've been there, right there at the apartment's door Vale had then been standing in front of. But Gabe hadn't been there. Gabe hadn't come home. Instead, two police officers had come to his door, and that alone had almost been enough to make Vale throw up. His mind had been screaming, ‘No’, screaming so loud he almost hadn't heard one of the officers ask him if he was Valerian Pricefield. Vale had stared, and at that point hadn't been sure of that himself, because his whole world had begun to crumble. He must've shown some form of agreement, however, because then, all the bad words had come.

Accident. Crashed. Hospital. Surgery. Critical condition.

Dazed, confused, unable or unwilling to accept what they meant, Vale had gone to the hospital where his brother had been fighting for his life on an operating table while Vale could still do nothing but wait. And wait. And wait.

The doctors had had more horrible words to say, as if it hadn't been enough already.

Internal bleeding. Severe damage. Fractures. Amputation.

Vale had lost the fight, then. He’d gone to the nearest bathroom and emptied his stomach until there was nothing but revolting bile left in him.

And so he felt again now. Physically sick, so unwell, as he couldn't stop staring at the wreck he didn't want to see.

The driver's side door of the Porsche looked like a piece of paper someone had crumpled into as tight of a ball as they could and then tried to straighten it out again, with very little success. It was uneven, bent, and it didn't seem to really fit anymore, and the mirror that should have been attached to it was nowhere to be seen. The whole frame of the Porsche was badly warped, and Vale knew the door took so many beatings. First from the truck that had so violently T-boned the Porsche, then from the firefighters that had aggressively pried it open to get Gabe out of there after the car had been flipped on its roof.

Looking at it now, Vale only had one thought, and he felt ashamed of it.

'How did he survive?'

Luck must've been with Gabe that night, because from the looks of it, this was the kind of wreck you usually see just as mangled corpses being dragged out of. Yet Gabe was fine. If fine meant alive. Because alive he was, with some broken ribs, one hand less, and the worst bruises Vale had ever seen. The fact he was still here at all seemed like a miracle in its own right, yet the warm gratitude that wanted to spread in Vale's chest was quickly incinerated by an infernal wave of rage. Vale felt so overwhelmingly angry at the other driver, the overtired trucker who hadn't slept in thirty hours at the time of the accident, who'd been speeding, who had run a red light that he had somehow not seen, just as he hadn't seen the bright blue supercar making its way across the intersection, and who hadn't reacted fast enough. The reconstruction and investigation of the accident were still ongoing, but the truck's data had registered a brake input only two meager seconds before the collision. Far too late. And therefore, when it hit him, the truck had been barraging towards Gabe at the completely fair speed of fifty-three miles an hour. In the city.

Again. 'How the fuck did he survive?'

Vale was tense, tense emotionally, and tense physically. He felt like he was ready to burst and was glad he was alone, because he felt about ready to commit a murder. With nothing to direct his anger at, he flexed his fingers, balled them into fists before extending them again. He repeated the motions and let his fury burn bright until it died down into embers, a glow that would never fade, but it dimmed and became more bearable, allowing him to relax his cramped up jaw. His teeth hurt from how tightly he'd pressed them together.

Vale hated being angry. He wanted to work through his emotions in a constructive and reflected way, but with sudden bursts of anger like this one, he always failed. He wasn't able to do anything with it, too tight was its grasp on him, too large the control it assumed once it spread through his soul. He'd found out there was little he could do about it aside from letting the fiery feeling roll through him until it trickled out as it did now.

While he was beginning to feel like himself again, less blinded by rage, he continued his distanced investigation of the car. The rear bumper was missing. It had been torn off, and, looking around, Vale couldn't see it anywhere. It probably was around here somewhere, but perhaps it ended up in a different scrapyard entirely. Vale could see the white of the deployed airbags inside the dark interior of the car. By now they had obviously deflated again, but Vale was endlessly relieved that they had done their job, and done it well. There was no chance Gabe would still be with him if they hadn't.

Vale felt deeply saddened looking upon this car Gabe used to love so much. Now it was little more than scrap metal. Scuffed up paint, bent bodywork, there were more broken pieces on the Cayman than such that were not. It seemed obvious it would be written off at near original value by the insurance company, aside from a little diminished price from its three years of age and the surprisingly high mileage. Gabe had taken this vehicle absolutely everywhere, not even to show off, as one could have assumed, but purely because he was so in love with it. Vale had scoffed over his childish glee so many times, and complained about the terrible impact on the environment the Porsche had, but now he had to admit to himself, he was glad it had been this car and no other, because this car was obviously built well enough to offer great protection, even in a severe crash.

An agent from the insurance company - who also happened to be a friend of Richard, Gabe and Vale's father - had already taken a look at the car, only briefly assessing and photographing the exterior damage before guaranteeing a good compensation. Vale hadn't been there, then, only Richard, but now, the insurance company asked for some registration document of the car so the claim could be filed. Said document was the reason for his visit here, because, according to Gabe, it was somewhere in the car. Now, Vale had to get it, because there was no way Gabe himself could stomach the state of his car, let alone even get here since he was still recovering from his injuries.

Richard and his wife, Annabelle, the two lawyers, were busy in their office, working twelve, fourteen, sixteen hour days, preparing a huge lawsuit against the company the other driver involved in the accident worked for. Something about illegal work conditions, dangerous business practices, whatever. Vale didn't care enough. Even if the company was fined, even if the driver went to prison, none of it would return his brother to normal. Gabe was so different. So quiet, so absent, so withdrawn. Passive, numb, sad, at times even lifeless. Vale struggled to recognize him, and even harder was trying to be there for someone who didn't vocalize their needs or feelings, or react to anything at all. Most days, Gabe didn't even get out of bed, just stayed in his dark room, waiting for his body to heal, his heart to stop aching, all the pain to stop. He barely ate and drank if Vale didn't practically force it into him, and some days, Vale was scared he'd given up entirely, but he refused to believe it. There had to be something left inside him, some small spark of his old cheerful self, and Vale would do anything in his power to nurse it back to a stronger flame, help Gabe to return to life. But he was afraid he was beginning to run out of options…

Gabe had no interest in speaking with him or his sister, Maggie, or Azura and Mark, his best friends. He regularly went to therapy, multiple times a week, both physical and psychological, and obviously Vale had no idea how that went since it was confidential and Gabe didn't tell, but just from looking at his older brother, it didn't seem to help. Maybe all he needed was time, but Vale was so very bad at just sitting around and doing nothing. He had to think of something else to help. He just had to. But not right now. Right now he had to get those papers out of the car.

He took a deep breath and shook out his arms, trying to rid his muscles of the remaining tightness in them, then he stepped to the Porsche and steeled his mind.

Vale reached out to the door. The handle was gone, so he hooked his fingers into its uneven edge that was bent away from the rest of the car, and he pulled. The tortured hinges gave way, the beat up metal creaking audibly. Vale cringed, then he looked around the inside of the car. Oddly enough, it looked almost intact if you ignored the shattered windows and airbags. Some plastic pieces were out of place, but it looked like you could just push them back into their original position and they’d be good to go. Obviously the right door didn’t look too peachy from the inside either, after all, the warping of the material was in part to blame for the loss of Gabe’s hand.

Vale leaned down to get a better look at the wreck and had to pull back when he saw the blood. Blood on the inside of the door, blood on the white material of the airbag limply hanging from the steering wheel. It wasn’t a lot. Studying medicine, Vale had seen much, much worse, but something about knowing it was his brother’s blood made it harder. He couldn’t help but imagine what it had been like, Gabe hanging in the seatbelt in his upside down car. Conscious. He was awake and alert when the paramedics had arrived, able to state his name, the date and day of the week. Vale had asked him time and time again if he could remember any of it, but Gabe had only tiredly shaken his head.

Vale had had a long conversation with one of the first responders who took Gabe to the hospital, and she had answered all of his questions. According to her, Gabe had seemed oddly calm with the whole situation, looking around at all the frenzied people and events, as if he neither understood nor felt unsettled by them. Until the point he caught a glimpse of his car from the outside, anyway. Then he panicked, hyperventilated, and had to be sedated. The paramedic had asked him who to call, and Gabe had asked for him of all people. Not his parents, not his part-time lover Kyle. Him. His little brother.

Gabe hadn’t been able to tell them his phone number, but he did say where he lived and that Vale would be there.

Vale couldn’t lie. Despite the horrors of that situation, it filled him with pride that it was him who Gabe wanted by his side at his lowest. It was comforting to know he trusted him, and that he mattered to him that much. Vale didn’t want to picture himself in a situation like the accident, but he was sure if something as terrible ever happened to him, he’d also want Gabe to be there.

Vale calmed and forced himself not to think about the blood and his brother when he approached the Porsche again. There were many chunks of broken glass from the driver side window on the black leather of the seats that had the blue stitching matching the outside of the car which Gabe had loved so much. Vale forced the door open wider before carefully sweeping the glass away from the driver’s seat so he could lean onto it with his hand and search the car. He went for the glovebox first, having to lift the passenger airbag out of the way to reach the latch that opened the compartment. Already his arm and back were hurting from the uncomfortable position, his feet on the ground outside while half his body leaned into the car that was quite low over the ground.

Cursing, Vale decided this wouldn’t work and gathered all his resolve before squeezing through the door completely and falling into the driver's seat. It felt horrible and wrong, like disturbing a crime scene, and it made the visions of the accident Vale had never seen even more vivid.

Suddenly sentimental, Vale raised his arms and wrapped his fingers around the cool and smooth leather of the steering wheel. Countless hours, Gabe had spent here, taking this car to every corner of London and beyond. Vale had never expressed interest in driving it himself, but that didn’t mean it hadn’t been there. He was quite sad, actually, that he’d never gotten an opportunity to take the Cayman for a spin. He’d ridden in it, sure, but only as a passenger. Well, that was a chance he missed for good, because this car wasn’t going anywhere on its own accord anymore.

Vale sighed and closed his eyes, trying to lock out all the destruction and irreversible damage. For just a moment, he allowed himself to imagine a brighter world where Gabe had never had the accident and he and himself drove the Cayman out to the countryside on a summer day to find some remote lake to go for a swim, or whatever, with himself behind the wheel. Surely, Gabe would ask him about a million times how it felt, and Vale would act all cool and unbothered, but in reality it would excite him to have all this power at his hands and feet. As he always did, Gabe would play the condescending know-it-all, lecturing Vale on what he was to do and what not to do, reprimanding him if he did something wrong in his eyes. And if Gabe kept that up long enough, Vale would tell him to shut up and let him drive, and Gabe would laugh and ignore him, going on and on until Vale would have enough and either stop the car, telling Gabe to drive himself if he couldn’t stand someone else doing it, or threaten to crash the Cayman into the nearest ditch if Gabe didn’t shut up.

Vale’s throat felt tight at that image. It was as if he could hear Gabe laugh for real, and feel the warmth of the sun on his face. He couldn’t understand why that couldn’t be the reality, why all this had to happen. It felt so unjust, so infinitely unfair.

He realized this was the first time he really allowed these feelings to bloom, emerge from his worries like butterflies from a chrysalis. He was so concerned about Gabe and his needs that he ignored his own, completely unaware of the fact that he had about as much to process as Gabe, leaving out the physical and mental trauma stemming from the accident itself.

But now, Vale felt it. He felt he was hurting as well, in pain when he thought about Gabe and what he was going through, but also because he selfishly missed his big brother, missed his laugh and that shit-eating grin of his. Missed his rants over his law studies and the constant bickering between the two. He missed making food for Gabe which he then praised to high heaven, missed his hugs and even how Gabe loved to mess up his hair, much to his dismay. He just wanted the old Gabe back, but he had no idea if that was even possible, if Gabe would ever be at least somewhat like before or if this current state was permanent.

Enough of that, Vale decided and his eyes snapped open, focusing on the spiderweb-lines of broken glass running through the windshield ahead. He let go of the steering wheel and felt compelled to wipe his hands on his dark gray jeans. Back to the task at hand, Vale returned his attention to the now open glovebox. The passenger airbag was in front of it again, so Vale decidedly pushed it upwards so it rested on the car’s dash and he could lean over the middle console and look in. The first thing he saw made him roll his eyes. Not one, not two, not three, not even four, but five condoms. Classic Gabe. The guy really had to get his dick wet any chance he got. Down bad for real. Vale supposed it was better to be safe than sorry, but even so, there were some things he’d really not like to think about, and one of them was the potentially copious amount of intercourse that went down in this car. And here he thought Gabe was in a relationship. What was up with that, anyways? He’d never met the ominous Kyle who Gabe had talked about more frequently before his accident. Actually Vale had thought Gabe didn’t do relationships, but apparently he’d changed his mind. He didn’t know, because since his accident, Vale hadn’t seen Gabe call or text anyone, really.

He shook his head and reached into the pocket of his jacket to pull out the folded up fabric bag he’d brought. This could very well be the last time anyone accessed the car so he figured he might as well get everything out of it. He tossed the condoms into the bag and found some hair ties as he did. Cute. Vale always found it funny when Gabe was so annoyed by his long hair that he tied it up in a ponytail or bun. Vale also came across some loose change. Well, to Gabe it probably was change, but it was quite a lot of money. Fives, tens, even a twenty or two, just carelessly thrown into the glovebox. Gabe had really gotten used to having more money than he could reasonably spend.

There were other random items strewn about; a phone charger, an almost empty water bottle, unused yet suspicious tissues, a not particularly clean rag Vale assumed Gabe used to wipe down whatever needed it, random packs of chewing gum, and more than one parking ticket he hoped Gabe had paid. Beneath it all, Vale found the Porsche’s manual in a sleek black cover. He opened it and there he found the certificate of insurance he was here to retrieve, and he saw it also contained the records of all the regular checkups the Cayman had gotten. Gabe had always been keeping up with that, taking care not to miss a single one, and if the check engine light even dared so much as flicker, he’d drag his car to his trusted speciality workshop to make sure everything was in order. Vale was sure no other car was as well taken care of as this one. Cay, as Gabe had endearingly called it. This Porsche could’ve stayed with Gabe for decades if it hadn’t been for the untimely accident.

Vale closed the manual booklet thing and put it in his bag. Good, that meant he already got what he came for. He shut the now empty glovebox, not that it mattered. With the state the vehicle was in, an open compartment more or less hardly made a difference.

Vale pulled the bag onto his lap and clawed at the fabric as his gaze once more fell on the sight before him, the broken glass of the windshield, the steering wheel, largely obscured by the airbag. A few droplets of blood had found their way on there as well, and it made him light-headed. He looked away, his eyes falling onto the central console of the car. The large infotainment system screen had loosened and fallen out of its place, a few gangly cables still connecting it to the inside of the car. Of the many, many buttons for the climate and radio controls inlaid in the silver plastic of the console, one was outright missing.

Vale wiped his face before remembering the compartment hidden away under the middle armrest. It was easy enough to get it open, and when Vale looked inside, he almost sobbed. With a shaky hand, he reached out and gingerly picked up the pair of sunglasses from within. Gabe’s old aviators, gold rimmed and hideously expensive way back when. He’d gotten them for some birthday, years ago, as a gift from none other than Vale himself.

In all this chaos, all this destruction, they had miraculously remained whole. Not even so much as a scratch was on the lenses. Vale looked at them for a good while, turning them in his hands, folding the side pieces away and back several times. What great significance this usual item suddenly gained. Proof that, no matter how frail things seemed, they could live through great struggles. Vale smiled lightly before sliding the sunglasses into the inside pocket of his jacket, for safekeeping.

After that, the cabin of the car had nothing left to offer. The Cayman was a two-seater, with little space to keep things. But Vale knew there were more storage options, two compartments in the nose and rear of the car, respectively. Unfortunately, they could only be accessed when the car was powered up, the lock mechanisms being controlled electronically. He did have the key, the Porsche-shaped key in the same blue as the car, but he didn’t know if the Cayman was in a state where there was any life left in it. Surely there was a way to get the compartments open manually, but Vale wasn’t sure if it was worth the effort. Gabe had never had a tendency to leave things in his car, at most a sweater or blanket for the colder nights, and the cleaning set he got from Azura half a year ago on Christmas. Gabe didn’t like the clutter. In the summer, he washed his car once a week at least, and after every drive longer than an hour. The inside was always spotless and dust free. The easiest way to piss him off was to get into the Porsche with dirty shoes. Or, better yet, touching the window when you closed the door. Just one time, Vale had made that mistake, and Gabe had forced him to wipe away the fingerprints he’d left on the glass.

Vale got out of the car and felt compelled to push the door back closed, as if it mattered. What to do now? He began to make his way back, clutching his cotton bag, but he looked over his shoulder and knew he wasn’t ready yet.

He supposed the least he could do was to remember it, remember it all, so instead of walking away, he made his way to the back of the car, the one side he hadn’t yet seen. He walked past the right rear wheel that was half torn from the axle, leaning away from the vehicle at an unnatural angle that couldn’t be chalked up to the great maneuverability of the car. It looked depressing, really. The shiny black paint on the rim was scratched up, even the actual material of it had been worn away where the worst scratches were. the place where the wheel should’ve been was a mess of broken parts of the suspension. The coil of the shock absorber was gone, too.

Vale kept walking until he stood at the car’s back end. Here, the two sides of the car - one almost whole, the other a mess of broken metal and plastic - met in the middle under the intact lettering. ‘718 Cayman S,’ it said in black. It looked odd how there was this stripe of unscathed material when below, the whole bumper was torn off, and above, the large back glass panel was so broken it had stopped being see-through and only barely hung in its place.

‘Oh, Cay,’ Vale thought as he walked back to his previous position next to the car so he could take in the full sight one last time.

He stared at all the sharp edges, reminisced over the good memories tied to it. Of leisurely cruises on hot summer days, midnight snack runs when Gabe had had some craving and hadn’t felt like going out alone, the one time in winter where it had been raining all day and then rapidly cooled at night and Gabe had barged into his room and forced him to come with him to a Tesco parking lot that was covered in ice so he could record Gabe’s (attempts at) sick drifts.

On the other hand, Vale imagined the terrors this car had gone through with his brother inside. The crashing, bursting, screeching, shattering, bending. Everything that had gone so wrong, yet somehow just right at the same time. The car was totaled, but the security systems had saved Gabe. The door had bent to smash Gabe’s hand, yet also held the pressure on it so he didn’t succumb to a critical loss of blood. The fuel tank had suffered a leak, gasoline flowing everywhere, yet none of the sensitive electronics had produced a spark, so no fire broke out.

Although it hurt him, every misplaced sharp edge the Cayman now had felt like it nicked his skin just from looking at it, he couldn’t leave the car here so unceremoniously. It was as if he had to say farewell, to somewhat of a loyal friend. He felt stupid for it, stupid for that sentimentality over an inanimate object, but to Gabe, this had never been “just a car”. And now Vale felt it wasn’t to him, either.

It was all too much. Vale smiled while he felt his throat grow so tight and tears well up in his eyes that didn’t stray from the wreckage. He felt he had to say something, anything, after all, this was somewhat of a sendoff. Not very festive, but touching nonetheless.

So he whispered a quiet and shy, “Thank you. For saving my brother’s life.”

With that, he went back to the front of the scrapyard, holding out his hand as he walked past the hood so his fingers ghosted over the cold, smooth paint, then the textured ridges of the Porsche crest.

And he left the Porsche Cayman behind, the car that would forever be so much more than just a car.

FIN