#But also nostalgia driven | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

bro-atz · 2 months

Text

"they're like ocean waves"

in which: every time you see mingyu, you're hit with feelings of melancholy, nostalgia, and regret.

pair: non-idol!mingyu/author!afab!reader

word count: 7.7k

content: heavy angst, smut x 2!, slight hurt/comfort?, reader lives near the beach, reader is a loner, probably the worst communication you will ever see, bedroom sex, beach sex (they do it on a towel and under an umbrella no sand goes anywhere pls), romantic sex, oral sex, a pregnancy and a miscarriage, unprotected sex (PLS REMEMBER TO WRAP UP IRL!), completely consensual! and a happy ending i promise

rated: R | nsfw — minors do not interact

author's note: i actually wrote this as a very self indulgent fluff/angst y e a r s ago (2017) and stumbled upon it the other day, so i decided to fix her up, expand on her as an adult (aka add nsfw scenes lol), and reintroduce her to the world... also thank you sososo much to @yunhoszn for helping me work some details through!

You hated the ocean. You hated the beach. You hated the salty sea breeze that would hit your nose and last all day in your hair and on your skin. The worst part was that you hated the memories, and you hated the man that brought the memories.

His name was Kim Mingyu, and his name left a bad taste in your mouth. What was once sweet and rolled off your tongue like a knife through warm butter you now hesitated to utter and choked you like the salt in the ocean, in the sea. In complete honesty, the name itself was so foreign at that point, but his eyes, those eyes that promised her empty lies, his eyes were so darned familiar that you couldn't help but remember them.

You were usually cooped up inside the house frequently as you slaved away at your endless manuscripts that kept piling up but never saw the light of day, and you would force yourself to take breaks. Yet, the second you stepped foot outside, you froze. You were terrified that you were going to run into him because you genuinely wanted nothing to do with him at that point. So, you usually stayed at home, and you drowned in words and papers.

One day, though, you were forced to go outside. Although you hated the beach, you needed to head back to the beach just one last time to develop the setting for your story. You pulled yourself to the beach and stood with your toes buried in the sand and your arms crossed over your chest. There was a beach towel you had laid down on the ground and an umbrella driven into the sand that went over the towel, but you couldn't bring yourself to sit just yet. The warm ocean breeze swept through your hair as you gazed at the setting sun. Orange hues filled your vision as you thought back to the first time you met him, the first time you set foot on the beach.

"Hey there. What's a pretty girl like you doing alone on a beach like this?"

You were sitting on a beach towel on the sand and enjoying the view one fine evening. The sky was painted with different warm colors, and it was truly beautiful. You were so enamored by the sky that you didn't even bother to look in the direction of the person who spoke to you. That, and you kind of wanted to be left alone because his pick up line was a little too sleazy for you.

"I'm enjoying the view," you answered simply.

"Mind if I join you?" the man asked.

You were so ready to tell him off, but he was saved by his devilish good looks. You looked to see him, and you were met with the view of the most breathtaking young man in the most breathtaking backdrop. His golden, sun-kissed skin glimmered in the setting sun, and his eyes sparkled like the ocean when the sun hit it just right. His hair was wet with ocean water and swept back, little beads of water dotting his neck, shoulders, and chest. He shot you the most marvelous smile, stunning you into complete silence. You barely managed to nod, the man sitting down on the beach towel right next to you.

Originally, you had your legs crossed and your back slightly hunched over, but you were suddenly so self-conscious in your two-piece swimsuit around this stunning man that sat next to you, so you hugged your knees to your chest, doing your best to cover up most of your body.

You couldn't help but glance to your side every so often to catch the side profile of the man, and he would glance back, causing you to look away abruptly. That was the extent of it that day. The two of you merely sat on the beach together and shared stolen glances, the sound of the ocean waves crashing filling the silence between the two of you.

What was crazy to you was that it became a recurring thing. You were at the beach every single day for an entire week partly because you actually needed to get into the right mood to work on your latest manuscript, and partly because you were hoping that you would run into the beautiful man; and you did. Every single day for an entire week, the man would meet you at the same spot around the same time and just enjoy the view of the setting sun with you before leaving once the sky got dark and the moon was starting to rise.

The two of you had yet to speak until one week later; you mustered up all of your courage and finally decided to interrupt the crashing waves to talk to him.

"I don't believe I've introduced myself," you stated as you turned to face him.

You stuck your hand out and told him your name, a slight look of shock crossing his face, only to be replaced by the friendliest smile you had ever seen. Your heart thudded wildly in your chest as you tried to figure out what took you aback the most: his gorgeous smile, his warm, inviting hand, or his eyes— his wonderful, sparkling eyes. He took your hand and held it lightly as he said, "Kim Mingyu."

That was all he said. He only told you his name that day.

As the suns kept setting, and as the days rolled by, you found yourself more and more enthralled with the ethereal being that kept appearing before you. Thankfully, you talked a little more day by day, and day by day, you learned more and more about Kim Mingyu. Not only had you learned more and more about Kim Mingyu, but you also got closer and closer to him as well.

First, your shoulders brushed. Next, you were bumping shoulders. Your fingers touched and laced with each other. Your head leaned onto his shoulder, his arm wrapped around your waist, and you gazed at each other fondly. You got closer to each other gradually, naturally, easily.

At the time, everything seemed so simple for you. You had gone to the beach to enjoy the orange sunset and get inspired, but you ended up enjoying Mingyu's sparkling, hopeful eyes more. You enjoyed the way he would talk to you about anything and everything while lightly flirting with you in between conversations. You liked how his eyes would completely light up when he talked about the things he was passionate about, how his smile would get wider as you showed interest in the things he liked, and how he was so completely focused on every single word you said when you told him about the things you liked, the stories you were working on, and even mundane things like how your day was going.

The day that made your heart beat so fast that you wanted it to stop beating so that you could finally breathe was the day he kissed you. You were talking animatedly about God knows what when you saw his slightly narrowed gaze and his subtle smile.

"W-What? What is it?" you stuttered, suddenly startled by the way his hand moved from your waist up to your ribcage.

"You're so beautiful," he whispered as leaned in closer to you, his face mere centimeters from yours. "You always look so beautiful when you smile and laugh..."

Your heart skipped several beats for several reasons: the words leaving his mouth, his hand pulling you into him, and his nose brushing against yours. His lips were dangerously close to yours, but they didn't meet yours until you quickly moved forward and left a peck on his. He exhaled softly, a smile playing on his lips before he kissed you again. His hand moved from your body to the back of your head, his fingers running through the roots and massaging your head lightly.

At first, his kisses started tenderly, his soft lips just pressing against yours over and over again, but when you moved your hand to cup his cheek, he couldn't help but take it one step further (not that you were complaining). His lips sucked gently on your lower lip before taking it in between his teeth and tugging lightly, making you moan slightly. You moved your hands to his bare waist and gripped his hips as if it would help you keep your grip on reality, but your mind was slowly melting, and you were sucked into his affection to the point where you didn't even realize he had you pinned to the beach towel you had been sitting on.

The sun was still taking its sweet time descending into the ocean when you brought Mingyu back to your place. Mingyu was bathed in the golden light that seeped through the window in your bedroom as he knelt on the bed before you. He removed the white button-up he never had buttoned up, giving you a complete view of his muscles. You had seen him shirtless a countless number of times, but that didn't stop your heart from threatening to leap out of your chest.

Mingyu silently held his hands out for you to take, guiding you so that you were kneeling on the bed as well so that he could hold your waist with a firm but gentle grip. When his hand slipped behind your back and brought you closer to him, you wrapped your arms around his shoulders. He kissed you passionately several times before brushing his nose against your jawline so he could leave kisses along the curve of your neck. You sighed sensually when you felt him trail his kisses along your shoulder, his fingers moving up to slip the strap of your pale sundress off your shoulder.

However, Mingyu's patience wore thin. He bunched up the fabric of your sundress and pulled it off you, leaving you in nothing but your panties— but you were quick to take those off yourself because you, too, were impatient. His eyes scanned you from head to toe, taking in every square inch of your bare body. You were starting to feel self-conscious, but he didn't give you the chance to doubt yourself more. He pulled you flush against him and kissed you hungrily, his fingers dragging along the curve of your waist before he wrapped his arms around you and slowly laid you down on the bed.

Mingyu knelt between your legs. He trailed his kisses down your neck, over your collarbones, and to your breast. He licked your nipple before taking your breast into his mouth, both of his hands moving to massage your breasts. He looked up at you with lust filled eyes as he sucked painfully hard on your tits, your back arching as you let out a pleasure-filled whimper. It did not help when he switched breasts, making sure he gave both of them equal amounts of love.

"Ah—! Mingyu..." you sighed blissfully when he moved away from your breasts to suck on your clit. That sigh turned into a loud whimper when he fully committed to eating you out, his mouth slurping on your arousal. You cursed under your breath and ran your fingers through his hair when he slipped two of his fingers into your cunt.

Mingyu refused to let up. He ate you out as if he was a starved man, unable to get enough of your sweet taste. You could help but roll your hips in rhythm as you chased your high. What did it for you was him sitting up and fingering you hard, his fingers rubbing against your G-spot with enough force and speed to make you cum. Your cunt quivered as you came, a sweet, loud moan leaving your lips and echoing in your bedroom and Mingyu's ears.

Your chest heaved as you gasped and tried to regulate your breathing. Through half-lidded eyes, you watched Mingyu move back towards you. He brought the two fingers he had buried in your cunt to your lips. You looked up at him as you ran your tongue along his fingers before taking them into your mouth and sucking them. Mingyu bit his lower lip, a smirk threatening to cross his face as he watched you listen to his silent instructions so obediently.

"God..." he whispered when he took his fingers out of your mouth and brought his face down, his lips ghosting over yours. "God..."

He gave you a good taste of yourself when he kissed you, his tongue diving deep into your mouth. While you couldn't get enough of the way he kissed you with such intensity, you wanted more. You felt empty now that his fingers weren't inside you, and you needed him to fill you up again. You brought your knee up between his legs and rubbed against his insanely stiff crotch, the man breaking off the kiss immediately to inhale sharply. Looks like he couldn't wait much longer either.

You pushed yourself up and leaned on your elbows when Mingyu moved away from you completely. Hooking his thumb into the waistband of his shorts, he tugged them down slowly, his other hand pulling his erect cock out of his shorts in the process. You couldn't help but widen your eyes when you saw his length and girth, your heart thudding faster at the thought of having something so massive inside you.

Mingyu took off his shorts and dropped them off the side of the bed while stroking his cock. The bedsheets rustled as he moved so that he was right before you once again. You heard him chuckle lightly when you gulped nervously seeing his cock closer. It was twitching and raring to go, and while your body craved him, your mind was swirling with worry.

"I'll go slow, I promise," Mingyu whispered as he read your thoughts.

You felt your face heat up slightly— you didn't realize that you weren't being conspicuous with your feelings at all and were slightly embarrassed. You didn't have much time to sit in the embarrassment, though, because Mingyu started rubbing the tip of his cock along your folds. You felt it prod inside you a couple of times, but he had yet to fully enter.

The anticipation was driving you crazy. You flung your head back and arched your back while whining, your entire body craving him.

"M-Mingyu... Hurry," you whined quietly.

"What's the rush?" he asked somewhat cheekily as if he was trying to get a rise out of you, as if he was trying to get you to beg for it.

You whimpered and whined, the words refusing to formulate. You just wanted him. Plain and simple. You looked up at him with desperate eyes when he placed his hand next to your head, his face hovering above yours. A quick look of surprise crossed his face, making your heart skip a beat. He looked down and guided his cock to your entrance once more, preparing to enter you.

"All right, sweetheart," you shivered hearing his choice of nickname for you. "I'm going to start, okay?"

You nodded, and Mingyu started moving. His cock made its way inside you, spreading you wide open, filling your vision with fireworks. You choked on a gasp as his cock seemed to just keep going and going. When he bottomed out, you were absolutely certain he was going to hit your cervix with his size, making you extremely nervous but also excited as well.

Mingyu rolled his hips slowly at first, giving you a little more time to get used to his size. You reached for his shoulders and held onto them while he fucked you, the pads of your fingers pressing into his skin. The two of you were breathing shallowly, the mattress springs beginning to quietly squeak as he slowly sped up.

"You feel good?" he asked you in a low voice?

"So g-good," you murmured, your eyes fluttering as you let the pleasure begin to consume you.

"Can I— Shit— Move faster?"

"Mmhmm..."

Mingyu wasted no time. You felt like his cock was going to rip your insides out when he got faster and harder, the friction inside you just making everything more intense. You cried loudly as you felt his waist slapping against yours, your legs wrapping around his waist. Mingyu lowered his body further, his lips right next to your ear. You could hear him breathing and grunting erratically, his hot breath sending tingles through your body.

Suddenly, Mingyu sped up. The bedsprings squeaked loudly and the entire bed shifted with every thrust. You screamed, your nails digging into his skin as you felt your entire body swell with more and more pleasure. With one particularly strong thrust, Mingyu actually managed to ram into your cervix, immediately filling your vision with stars. You squeezed your eyes shut and cried as you came again.

The fluttering and clenching of your cunt was too much for the man to bear. You heard his breathing hitch and a groan rumble in his throat while his waist continued moving rapidly.

"Fuck! C-Cumming!" Mingyu grunted loudly.

He pulled out and stroked his cock several times before ropes of white shot out and landed your stomach. He continued to grunt and sigh as more cum spurt out of his cock, his hand slowing down as he released his entire load to decorate your skin.

The two of you were breathing hard. Your breathing slowed down, and your eyes could barely stay open as your body relaxed more and more into the mattress, the pleasure still lingering within you.

You ended up falling asleep just like that, and when you woke up, you saw that Mingyu had cleaned the two of you up but that you both were still nude, the only fabric covering your skin being the duvet on top of you. He was fast asleep and hugging you close to him as the two of you laid side by side, his hold on your waist only getting stronger when he felt you shift in his arms.

Mingyu's face was right before yours. You watched him breathe softly, peacefully, your heart fluttering as you observed his beautiful features. You wanted to reach out and run your finger along his sculpted face, but at the same time, you felt so at peace just seeing his relaxed, sleeping face. You settled for pressing your ear to his chest and listening to his beating heart as you drifted off to sleep again.

You and Mingyu had spent a countless number of nights together after that, and every single time, he was so overwhelmingly generous and passionate with you that you couldn't help but fall for him— and you fell hard.

Yet, you didn't think to tell him about your feelings. Truthfully, you were too scared to. You didn't know how he felt about you, and you seriously couldn't tell sometimes, especially when you saw him talking to other people.

Sometimes, while you waited for Mingyu at the beach, you would spot him talking and laughing with a couple friends. One day, however, you saw him with another woman. Technically speaking, you and Mingyu never made any sort of commitment to each other, so he was free to talk to, flirt with, or sleep with anyone he wanted to, but you still couldn't help but feel your heart drop to your feet. He looked so happy with her, and every time she touched his arm in a flirty manner, he would accept it and reciprocate.

You were hurt. You thought you and Mingyu had something a little more special. You thought that he didn't treat all girls the same way he treated you, that he wasn't like every other man, that he wasn't actually a player. All of those thoughts completely shattered when you saw him with her. You were upset with him, but you were also upset with yourself for never saying anything to him, and based on the way he was interacting with that woman, you felt like you probably shouldn't say anything.

That was the last time you saw him... for a while. The day you saw him with the girl, you left, and he texted you asking you where you were, but you didn't respond. He didn't send a single message after that. You were left alone— well, actually, you weren't completely alone.

A couple of weeks later, you went to the doctor because you were unwell. You were throwing up all the time, and you were unable to focus or do anything properly. You thought it was a stomach flu, but it was a baby instead, and it was his baby; it had to be his baby because you hadn't been with another man ever since.

After finding out, you didn't really know what to do with the information. You debated telling Mingyu, but no matter how you thought about it, your mind kept drifting to him and the other woman. You didn't want to disrupt his life, but in the same breath, he deserved to know. That being said, seeing that his last text to you was weeks prior always stopped you from sending a message, and if you couldn't even send a text, where the hell were you going to call him?

You ended up living with your little secret kept close to your heart. You took care of yourself, and you were on top of things. You thought about what your life was going to look like after you gave birth, and when you looked around your desolate apartment, you thought about sharing your life with someone. You thought about it, but at the end of it all, you could only think of one person you actually wanted to share it with, and it made you spiral all over again.

One particular day, you felt completely off. You had horrible cramps, and you were so dizzy that you couldn't do anything but keep your head in the toilet and dry heave because you literally had nothing in your system but your body was going through it to the point where you were delirious. In fact, you were so delirious that you called Mingyu right before you passed out.

When you came to, you were in a hospital, and you were confused as hell. It was nighttime. Moonlight filled your room along with the beeping of the heart monitor. You pushed yourself up and looked to your side to see Mingyu fast asleep while kneeling at the edge of the hospital bed. Your heart skipped a beat seeing his perfectly chiseled face before your brain questioned why he was there in the first place.

Mingyu stirred when you tried to shift to a more comfortable position, and the second he blinked some of the sleep out of his eyes, he fully awoke and stood up quickly to stand right by your side.

"Hey," he whispered. "How are you feeling?"

"Okay, but, what's going on? Why am I—"

"Shh, just get some rest... You've been through a lot."

You were getting nervous with the way he was talking to you, raising more questions. There was no way in hell you were going to sleep without getting some answers.

"...Why am I here? And why are you here?"

Mingyu took a deep breath. He knew you weren't going to rest until you knew what was happening.

So, he told you everything. You called him right before you passed out, and he immediately picked up. When you didn't speak, he at first thought you butt dialed him or something, but your phone was right by your face, and he heard your shallow, shaky breaths. He, thankfully, remembered where your spare key was and immediately got to your apartment to see you on the ground in your bathroom. He called the paramedics, they brought you to the hospital, and after running through all of the tests, the doctor told him what happened.

"You... You were pregnant," Mingyu whispered.

"Yeah, I'm pregnant, but—"

"No," Mingyu cut you off. "You were pregnant."

White noise filled your ears. The words, with the infliction, sunk in, and you felt everything around you collapse. You felt like Mingyu hit you with a right hook when he said that, and you were close to knocking out.

Were.

How could that even happen?

The doctors explained it to you, but you weren't listening; you couldn't bring yourself to listen. Your head was muddled, every voice that spoke to you was muffled, and your heart was muzzled.

You were so lifeless throughout your stay at the hospital that Mingyu couldn't help but stay by your side. Granted, you thought was doing it out of pity, but it was mainly because he knew that if you were left alone, you would fall over again, and he didn't want that to happen to you ever no matter how big the distance between the two of you grew.

Even after discharge, Mingyu stayed with you. He kept reassuring you that if you wanted to cry, you could, and that he would be there for you, but you didn't have it in you to cry. You were mindless from the moment he told you, and you remained mindless as you tried to find normalcy in your life once more. You were so mindless, in fact, that you expected Mingyu to just up and leave after knowing you could feed yourself, but he didn't. He stayed with you for a while— until he found out the truth.

You and Mingyu were in the kitchen one evening. You were cleaning, and Mingyu, who originally entered the kitchen to rifle through the pantry, held the handle to the pantry door before sighing and facing you.

"Hey," Mingyu broke the silence. "Can I ask you something?"

You nodded while mindlessly wiping down the kitchen countertop.

"Who was the father...?"

You froze. You knew he was going to ask that at some point, but you thought he would give you a little more than several days to prepare for it. You set the towel aside and looked at him. You wanted to tell him, but the words were stuck in the back of your throat.

Mingyu saw the look on your face and immediately looked away uncomfortably. He ran his hand over his face and took a heavy breath.

"...Tell me something," his voice came out rough, as if he was choking back a sob.

You waited for him to say something, but he just looked at you instead. You nodded and whispered, "Yeah?"

"In the time we haven't seen each other..." he started slowly. "Have you slept with anyone else?"

You shook your head. You wanted to confirm verbally, but there was no way you were going to— not when you felt your chest tighten up uncomfortably.

"So..."

Mingyu definitely choked on his words that time. He chewed on his lower lip nervously. He covered his mouth with his hand and sighed slowly, shakily. The room was heavy, and both of you knew exactly what this awkwardness meant, but you were waiting for the other one to say the words. Unable to take the tension any longer, you spoke.

"It was you..."

Mingyu pressed his lips together in a tight line. He took a step towards the kitchen island and grabbed the edge as if to steady himself. You watched his knuckles turn white the longer he gripped it. He looked down at the countertop before looking right at you, his eyes red and watery.

"Me?"

You were near tears. You blinked them away quickly while sniffling and nodding. You knew what was coming. You knew he was going to be upset, and you needed him to know why you did what you did, and there was no way that was going to happen if you got emotional.

"So, let me get this straight. You were pregnant, and I was the father?"

You nearly flinched when you heard his voice get louder.

"Yes," you confirmed before choosing your next words very carefully. "I was pregnant, and you were the person who got me pregnant."

You definitely flinched when Mingyu slammed his hands down on the countertop. He was shaking, and his face was twisted painfully as the realization finally completely hit him.

"You— You were pregnant— You were pregnant with my child?!" Mingyu yelled; he was in complete and utter disbelief to the point where he was tripping over his words. "Did— You— You didn't think to tell me?!"

"I didn't know how you were going to respond, Mingyu! We're not married, we're not engaged— I'm just some girl you knocked up, and I didn't want you to feel the need to marry me just because I was pregnant!"

"So, what, you were just going to have the kid without telling me?! You were going to let me go blissfully unaware that someone who shares half of my DNA is just walking around without even knowing who their biological father is?!"

"Does it even matter?!" you shrieked.

The two of you fell silent. The weight of the matter hit you like a ton of brick, and the room got more stuffy by the second. You ran your shaking fingers through your hair and exhaled slowly, your heart clenching as you thought about everything that led to that moment. You closed your eyes and massaged your temples as you did your best to hold your tears back.

"It doesn't even matter anymore," you sighed, your voice shaky as you spoke quietly.

You could tell Mingyu wanted to comfort you. His hand reached out hesitantly before falling at his side. You faced him and locked eyes with him. His eyes weren't sparkling the way they used to whenever he saw you. They were bleak, sorrowful, resentful. You knew he resented you for not telling him about your unplanned pregnancy and that he found out because of the hospital.

"You know," Mingyu started, his voice choked back by a sob. "You could at least..."

He shook his head. He wasn't going to say it, and as much as you wanted to demand that he say it, you didn't need him to.

You could at least apologize for not telling me in the first place.

And you did want to apologize, but the words got stuck in the back of your throat because you were just as hurt by him as he was by you. Plus, he wasn't the one who had to bear the weight of losing a child— you were.

Neither of you uttered a word after that. Mingyu wordlessly left your apartment, and you remained in your kitchen this time actually completely alone.

Years later, you still carried the resentment against him. You couldn't figure out why either. Maybe it was the fact that he seemed to have moved on with his life and that you were still stuck in the past. Maybe it was because he never tried to find you to comfort you. Maybe it was because you wish he fought for you to stay with him.

You stared aimlessly at the sunset before you, your arms crossed over your chest as the yellow and orange hues grayed out in your glazed view. The waves were calmly patting the large rocks, and the wind was sweeping by you warmly, but you felt anxious and cold. You ran your shaking fingers through your hair and took a shuddering breath as you tried your best to appreciate the sky's canvas through your teary eyes.

"Hey there..." you heard a familiar voice over the sound of the ocean waves.

A tear immediately slipped out of your eye. You refused to turn, you refused to look— you didn't need to see who it was.

"What're you doing alone on a beach like this?" he continued.

Your heart clenched. It was like the first time the two of you met all over again, but you were anything but happy. You shook your head and looked away. Honestly, you wanted to run away, but your feet refused to carry you, your toes sinking deeper into the soft sand.

"Come on... Please look at me..."

The catch his throat stabbed at your heart several times. You bit your lower lip and tried your best to keep it together as you turned to look at him, but all of that effort was in vain.

It was the first time in years that you saw him, and dare you say it, he looked even more stunning as a slightly older man. His muscles had gotten more refined, and his facial features had gotten sharper. The biggest change, however, was his eyes. They weren't sparkling at all anymore, but there was something else there— something you couldn't quite place. It was unfamiliar, but in the same breath, recognizable.

"Mingyu..." you breathed out unintentionally, your voice trembling. "What are you doing here?

He took a single step towards you. You were still frozen in place, so he kept approaching despite you wanting him to stay as far away from you as possible.

"I... I miss you... And I want to—" Mingyu stopped himself the second he saw you shaking your head.

"Please don't, Mingyu," you whispered.

A warm ocean breeze swept past your ankles and through your hair as silence filled the space between you. You turned away from him and looked at the ocean again, Mingyu continuing to stare at you. You wiped the lingering tears by your eyes away before crossing your arms over your chest again. Even after everything, you still refused to cry, especially in front of him. Yet, when Mingyu approached you tentatively and carefully wrapped his arms around you, you broke. You let him hug you, and all of the tears you had been holding back not just then but over the last several years came pouring out.

You wanted to say something, but you couldn't. You were too busy wailing into his chest, your hands grabbing at the fabric of his shirt as you pulled him closer to you. Mingyu kept one secure hand around your waist while the other petted your head in a soothing manner.

"It's okay... Cry it all out..." Mingyu murmured, making you cry even more.

The two of you had slowly sunk down to the ground and sat on the towel under the umbrella which you had brought to the beach to sit on earlier. Mingyu refused to let you go even as your sobs died down. He rubbed your back, the feeling of his large hand on your back and the sounds from the ocean easing your pain and finally calming you down.

You sat in silence after you cried it all out. Mingyu's hold on you loosened slightly so that you could lean back and look at him, but he still didn't let go of you— there was no way in hell he was going to let go of you now.

"How are you feeling?" Mingyu asked in a hushed voice.

"A little better..." you couldn't help but admit— the lack of bottled up emotions in your chest did make it easier for you to breathe.

You looked up at him. This time, when you gazed into his eyes, you were able to figure out exactly what it was in his eyes: hope. You felt the emotion swell up in your chest again, but instead of crying, you took a deep breath and relaxed a little more in his arms.

"Why did you..." you sighed as you trailed off, trying to figure out exactly how you wanted to say this. "You're here because...?"

"Because I miss you," Mingyu said, reiterating what he was saying earlier. "I miss you so much..."

"...Why did you come here, then? How'd you know you'd find me here...?"

"I didn't, actually. I was thinking about going to your apartment, but I didn't know if you still lived there, and when I turned around to go home... I saw you standing here..."

"I actually still live at the same place," you couldn't help but chuckle dryly. "You'd think I would have moved after all this time... But I couldn't bring myself to do it..."

"Why is that?"

"Because... Even after everything... I never wanted to— I could never get over you... I really missed you too, Mingyu..."

Mingyu cupped your face after you stopped talking. He tilted your head up, and you saw his lower lip quiver. He took a breath as if he was about to say something, but he immediately closed his mouth. He didn't need to say it— you knew what he wanted to say.

"Then why did we wait so long to find each other again?"

You knew what kept you from reaching out, but you weren't sure how Mingyu was going to respond, nor were you sure you wanted to know the answer. However, enough was enough, and you needed answers.

"Can I ask you something?" you asked, your voice hushed.

"Yeah, of course," he nodded. "You can ask me anything."

You swallowed nervously. You were still unsure of how to broach the subject, so you just decided to be candid and let your ears get as hot as they wanted as embarrassment took control of your brain.

"What about that other girl?"

"What other girl?" Mingyu asked, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

"Back then... You were talking and laughing with another girl..."

Mingyu just looked even more confused. Taking a deep breath, you finally laid it all out.

"We didn't... We didn't really talk about what our relationship was back then... So when I saw you with another girl, I assumed it was because you had your options open," you explained slowly. "And since we weren't officially dating or together or anything, I didn't want to ask you about it because you were free to see other people..."

Your gaze slowly lowered as you explained your train of thought, so when you finished, you looked up again to see a wide array of emotions painted on Mingyu's face. He closed his eyes and sat silently for a moment, and you waited for him to gather his own thoughts before responding. Finally, he reopened his eyes, and for the first time in a while, you saw that sparkle you were hopelessly infatuated with return to his eyes.

"Sweetheart, there's never been anyone else," Mingyu said softly as he reached for and held your hand. "I've only ever had eyes for you, and I have not stopped thinking about you..."

You felt your eyes well up with tears. There were so many thoughts swirling around your head, most of them being regret that you didn't talk this through with Mingyu in the beginning; but he made all of the negative thoughts leave your mind the second he cupped your face and met your gaze.

"I only want to be with you."

A tear slipped out of your eye, the man immediately brushing it away. You pushed yourself into his arms and hugged him tightly while sobbing, Mingyu immediately hugging back and petting your head to soothe you. He whispered reassuring words to you while resting his chin on the top of your head, and he let you cry it all out. His white shirt soaked up all of your tears as you buried your face in his chest.

"I'm sorry, Mingyu... I'm so sorry..."

"It's okay... Don't think about it now," he said softly. "Let's not dwell on the past... Let's focus on now..."

You shook your head, prompting him to counter your apology.

"If anything, I'm sorry for leaving you like that," he whispered. "I hated that I wasn't there for you when you needed the support... I should've been there for you."

You sniffled and moved your head back. You opened your mouth to say something, but the words were stuck in the back of your throat, choked back by a sob.

"But I'm here for you now, and I promise I'm always going to be here for you. Always."

With that, Mingyu pressed his lips against yours tenderly, your heart swelling with a multitude of emotions. You kissed him back softly, slowly, conveying all of your unspoken feelings to him.

The sun was long gone by that point, and the stars were out as you and Mingyu found yourselves entangled with each other. Mingyu's hands roamed all of your body. The warmth of his touch lingered on every spot of skin his fingers brushed as he took in every last bit of you. His kisses started sweet but slowly got more hungry and desperate as every single cell of his body craved you— after all, it had been years.

If the two of you hadn't been hidden to the world under an umbrella and behind a strip of large rocks, you wouldn't have been okay with Mingyu taking things further with you. He slid your dress up as he trailed kisses from your ankle up your leg and to your knee. Your dress rested on your stomach, and he turned you to the side before lying down alongside you, his hand bringing your thigh up and over his legs. He placed his hand under your head as a makeshift pillow, and you immediately nuzzled your face into his hand, making his breathing hitch slightly.

The two of you were silent, and you let the sound of the waves lapping fill the void the more intimate you got. Mingyu pulled his cock out of his shorts and started to rub it between your legs, your body trembling with want, desire, and a little fear. Since it had been so long, you forgot how big he was, so when he pushed your panties to the side before slipping his cock inside you, you immediately moaned loudly. Mingyu cut off your moan with a kiss, his tongue keeping yours occupied as he bottomed out.

You moaned into Mingyu's mouth as he began to move, his waist softly slapping against yours. You felt like your cunt was going to tear apart with his size, and as much as it hurt, it also felt so good that you desperately needed him to keep going.

"You doing okay, sweetheart?" he moved his lips to your ear and asked, his voice low and raspy.

You hummed and nodded, the pleasure starting to overwhelm you. The pleasure only continued to build when he started bucking his hips upwards rashly, your whole body lurching. You cried softly and pushed yourself closer to him. You were so close, but you needed just a little bit more.

Mingyu's hand slipped under your dress, his large hand palming your breast. You sighed and moaned the stronger his grip on you got and the more rash his thrusts got. Finally, he thrust into you with enough force that his cock hit your cervix multiple times, the pleasure surging through you like anything. You buried your face into the nook of his neck and groaned as quietly as you could as your orgasm washed over you. Your cunt clenched, and your toes curled. You had been holding onto Mingyu's forearms, and when you came, you dug your nails into them, leaving deep crescents in his arms.

"Fu-uck," Mingyu groaned when he felt you tighten around him.

You truly thought that Mingyu was close when you heard him curse, his sexy, rumbling voice making you tingle with excitement again. However, he apparently was far from done. He moved his hand from your head to your ass, and cupping the underside of your ass, he turned you so that you were on top of him. He pulled you down so that your chest was pressed against his before moving his hands back to your ass. He guided you as your ass bounced on his hips, the new angle making pleasure surge through you once more and your eyes fill with tears.

"I'm— Hnngh— I'm gonna cum inside, okay, sweetheart?" Mingyu whispered, his breathing getting shallower by the second.

Your heart couldn't help but thud wildly against your chest. You whispered, "Please, Mingyu. I'm all yours... I'll always be yours...."

Mingyu's eyes widened slightly before a gentle smile appeared on his face. He ran his fingers through the hair on the back of your head and brought you down to kiss you passionately. When the kiss ended, he let you go to turn you to your side. He buried his face into the nook of your neck and sighed deeply before fucking you as quickly as he could.

Right before he came, a groan rumbled in the back of his throat. He moved his head to your shoulder, his canines digging into your skin as he bit your shoulder lightly. You felt his hot cum fill you up and his dick continue to throb and spasm as he moved a little more to get the rest of his load out. The two of you sighed softly, blissfully, peacefully as you fully relaxed.

The stars were out as you laid in Mingyu's arms, your eyes closed, your breathing peaceful. The sound of the soft ocean waves rushing onto the sand made you stir. Your eyes fluttered open to see Mingyu staring at the lonely sky above you. You moved away from his chest slightly to get a better look at him, the man immediately shifting his gaze to you. He smiled as you blinked at him. His eyes were sparkling once again, and dare you say it, they sparkled brighter than the stars in the sky. You felt tears well up in your eyes again, and Mingyu wiped them away before they could stain your cheeks. Hushing you softly, he hugged you gently and held you close.

You still hated the ocean. You still hated the beach. You still hated the salty sea breeze that would hit your nose and last all day long in your hair and on your skin, but you welcomed the memories. You welcomed the memories, and you once again loved the man that brought the memories.

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uselessrena · 1 year

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I really need to catch up on my communist route playthrough of DE. And also I need to watch Mando’s Season 3. What I do instead is play Sims 3 – a game that betrayed me more times than I betrayed myself.

Gosh, why do I have to make this so hard. It’s really a matter of procrastinating on entertainment!! I already do that with studies!!! I do not need to double down!!!!

#i literally killed one of my previous laptops while playing Sims 3 #happened when i was a kid #i was so scared #it just freezed on me and wouldn't shut down or anything #and yet here i am #driven by pure nostalgia to playing what is basically my childhood tormentor #maybe i am a little too dramatic #love Sims 3 actually #majorly shaped me to be who i am #OH i am also procrastinating on reading Quiet Flows the Don for school #i'm really enjoying it though

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reidmarieprentiss · 9 days

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Better Together

Summary: Spencer knows he messed up, he wants to prove to you that it was a mistake. His words, not you. You would never be anything but his person.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Category: fluff, hurt/comfort, angst

Warnings/Includes: aftermath of taking a break, reinforcing love and commitment, mild groveling, happy ending

Word count: 2.9k

a/n: i would just like to say that i do not think engagement equals love and i also don't think it's necessary to get engaged to "prove" your devotion -- this is fiction and mama wanted a ring lmao

main masterlist part one

As Spencer stepped into the quiet of the apartment, the absence of your presence was palpable, a silent echo of the space growing between you both. His gaze drifted across the familiar surroundings until it settled on the note affixed to the fridge. The sight of it—a stark, solitary piece of paper in the place usually bustling with the warmth of shared meals and conversations—felt oddly jarring.

The note was simple, void of excess detail, stating only that you had gone to stay with a friend. It didn’t say who, nor did it need to. The message was clear: you needed space. Spencer’s heart sank a little more with the understanding, yet there was also a part of him that acknowledged the necessity of this distance for both of you.

He stood there for a long moment, the weight of the empty apartment pressing down on him, reminding him of the gravity of your last conversation. It was time to use this space effectively, to reflect on everything you had said, on the emotions that had driven you to seek solace away from him. Spencer realized this was not just a moment to passively wait for your return, but an active opportunity to address his own fears, to understand his hesitations about the future, and to think critically about how he could make you feel more cherished and included in his life.

With a heavy sigh, he moved away from the note and sank down onto the couch, the silence enveloping him. He knew the coming days would be challenging, filled with introspection and perhaps painful realizations. But there was also a glimmer of hope—the hope that this time apart could lead to healing and a stronger foundation for whatever lay ahead. Spencer pulled out a notebook and began to write, outlining his thoughts and feelings, the fears he rarely voiced, and the steps he might take to bridge the gap between you. This was his chance to transform understanding into action, to show not just through words but through meaningful changes that you truly were his world.

—

Spencer was acutely aware that healing the rift between you would require more than just time; it demanded meaningful, heartfelt efforts. The damage done was not something he could fix overnight, but he was committed to doing everything in his power to mend your heart.

He started with texts. Spencer wasn't one to rely heavily on technology for emotional communication, but he knew you cherished seeing his name light up your screen. Each message he sent was carefully crafted, infused with warmth and affection, designed to remind you of his presence and his regret. Despite the sweetness of his words, you found yourself wrestling with the urge to respond. You appreciated his efforts—they tugged at your heartstrings, yes—but they weren't enough to sweep away the hurt that had built up.

Recognizing the limitations of digital words, Spencer transitioned to something more personal: handwritten letters. Since he didn’t know where you were staying, he sent them to your workplace, hoping the surprise of receiving mail would bring a smile to your face. Each letter was filled with his unmistakable handwriting, his words oscillating between heartfelt confessions, sweet nothings, and the occasional goofy remark that was so quintessentially Spencer. You couldn't help but smile sadly with each letter you opened, touched by his efforts yet still guarded, the emotions each letter evoked a mix of nostalgia and melancholy.

As days turned into weeks without a reply from you, Spencer realized he needed to do more, yet he was mindful of your dislike for public displays or grand gestures. He knew whatever he did next had to respect your boundaries and preferences.

So, he kept it simple. One evening, he showed up outside your workplace with nothing but a small bouquet of your favorite flowers and a hopeful smile. He waited for you, not as a grand gesture, but as a quiet statement of his willingness to do whatever it took to begin mending the gaps between you.

When you saw him standing there, something inside you stirred. It was a testament to his understanding of you, a reflection of his desire to make things right in a way that felt safe and respectful. The sight of him, so hopeful and earnest, cracked the protective wall you had built around your heart just a bit more.

His approach was soft, his voice tentative when he spoke. "I didn't come to pressure you, just to give you these," he said, extending the flowers towards you. "I just want you to know that I'm here, and I'm not going anywhere, not unless you want me to."

The simplicity of the gesture, the sincerity in his eyes—it all resonated with you, reaching deep into the places in your heart that still ached for him. This was the Spencer you loved, the one who understood you sometimes better than you understood yourself.

—

Your stay with Penelope provided a comforting pause, a needed respite that allowed you to sift through the whirlwind of emotions and considerations that clouded your thoughts. Despite the necessary distance and time for reflection, your draw to Spencer persistently tugged at your heart, a constant reminder of what might be at stake. After all, he remained the love of your life, despite everything.

Motivated mostly by yearning and somewhat by determination, you felt it was time to go back home. It was a Saturday, a day Spencer typically reserved for introspection and journaling—a practice you respected for its purpose, though lately, it seemed to fall short in facilitating effective communication between you two.

You entered the apartment quietly, the familiar setting wrapping around you like a well-worn comfort. You navigated through the silent spaces until you reached his office door. There he was, ensconced in his usual spot, pen in hand and deeply absorbed in his journal. For a moment, you just stood there, watching him, taking in the sight of your handsome boyfriend, so focused and earnest in his contemplation.

With a heart full of mixed emotions—hope, love, and a tinge of residual apprehension—you approached him quietly from behind. As you wrapped your arms around him in a gentle embrace, you could feel him tense briefly, startled by the unexpected contact. However, as soon as he recognized your scent, the one so intrinsically linked to home and comfort, his body relaxed under your touch.

“Hi, darling,” Spencer greeted, his voice a soft murmur of relief and warmth, the endearment lingering between you.

As you nestled closer into Spencer, the warmth of his neck against your cheek, you felt the familiarity of your bond slowly rekindling the embers of connection that had seemed so threatened recently.

"Hi, Spence," you mumbled softly, your words barely audible, filled with the comfort and sadness of everything that had passed between you.

"You came home," Spencer responded, his tone tinged with a mix of sadness and hopeful surprise, as if he hadn't fully believed he'd hear those words or feel your presence like this again.

You nodded against him, the gesture simple but loaded with emotion. "I missed you," you admitted, letting the truth of your feelings spill out in the quiet sanctity of his embrace. It was a confession, an olive branch extended in the hope of mending the fractures that had formed.

Spencer's hand came up to gently rest on one of yours, securing it against him, a physical affirmation of his gratitude for your return. He turned slightly within the circle of your arms, attempting to catch a glimpse of your face, needing to see the sincerity in your eyes that matched the words you just spoke.

"I missed you too," he confessed, his voice a whisper of relief mingled with lingering apprehension. "A lot more than I thought possible," he added, giving voice to the depth of his feelings during your absence.

There was a pause, a breath of silence as both of you allowed the honesty of the moment to sink in. Then Spencer ventured further, his words cautious but necessary, "Are we okay? I mean, can we... talk about everything?"

You felt a flutter of nerves at the question—it was the one you both needed to address, yet feared. Taking a deep breath, you stepped back just enough to look into his eyes, searching for and finding the earnest worry reflected there.

"We need to talk, yes," you agreed, your voice steady despite the tumult of emotions. "But first, let me just say this... I came back not just because I missed you, but because I believe we can fix this."

His eyes searched yours, looking for the reassurance they so desperately needed, and he found it in your steady gaze. "I want that too," he said, the vulnerability in his voice striking. "I want us to work through this, no matter what it takes."

Encouraged by his words, you suggested, "Let's start by really listening to each other. No interruptions, just us, trying to understand where the other is coming from."

Spencer nodded in agreement, the gesture firm. "I’d like that. I’ve been doing a lot of thinking, and there are things I need to apologize for and areas where I need to do better."

"And I have things to admit too," you added, acknowledging your part in the strains that had tested your relationship. "Let's make a pact, here and now, to move forward together, with honesty and open hearts."

"Agreed," Spencer said, a soft smile finally breaking through the earlier tension. He extended his hand, a symbolic offering for you to shake. "Partners?"

"Partners," you affirmed, placing your hand in his, feeling a renewed sense of commitment enveloping the space between you.

—

"My parents' marriage... it wasn't something I ever wanted to emulate," Spencer confessed, the weight of his past evident in his tone. "And my father... he wasn't around. That left a mark on me, more than I usually admit."

Listening, you could see the struggle in his expression, the conflict of a man torn between his desires for a future with you and the scars of his past. His next words came slowly, each one a careful step forward. "I've been scared, really scared of turning into him, of failing as a husband... as a father."

"But," he continued, looking directly into your eyes, seeking the connection that had always grounded him, "knowing you, seeing how strong and committed you are, it gives me hope. When you came back... it meant everything. It told me that you're here, really here, even when things get tough."

You reached out, taking his hands in yours, squeezing them gently to offer reassurance and support. "Spencer, your past doesn't define your future. We can create something different, something better together. And I know you, you could never be like him. You're too caring, too thoughtful."

He nodded, a tentative smile beginning to form as the weight seemed to lift slightly off his shoulders. "Hearing you say that... it helps more than you know. I want to face these fears, not just for me, but for us. I want us to build a life together, free from the shadows of what was."

The conversation stretched on, each of you taking turns to lay bare fears and dreams, weaving a tapestry of shared hopes and commitments for the future. It was a pivotal moment, one that felt like a new beginning, as if you were both stepping out from under the heavy curtains of the past into a clearer, brighter day together.

—

One lazy Sunday, you were curled up on the couch, grateful for Spencer’s thoughtfulness as he had volunteered to run to the store to pick up the products you needed for your period. He had been so sweet and doting, eager to make you as comfortable as possible. In his rush to take care of you, however, he had left his phone behind on the kitchen counter.

When it started ringing, you instinctively picked it up, not even glancing at the screen, assuming it was your own phone. "Hello?" you answered casually.

"Spencer," Diana's familiar voice greeted you without skipping a beat. Before you could say anything, she continued. "I have your grandma’s ring. Would you rather I send it in the mail or do you want to come pick it up?"

You blinked in confusion, processing her words, especially the mention of a ring. "Um, hi, Diana," you replied awkwardly, realizing far too late that you were answering Spencer's phone, not your own.

"Oh, Y/N!" Diana's surprise was evident as she corrected herself. "I didn’t realize it was you."

You forced a small laugh, your mind already swirling with what Diana had just said. "Yeah, Spencer’s out running errands. I, um… picked up his phone by mistake."

"Well, no harm done," Diana chuckled lightly, though there was a warmth in her voice. "It’s good to hear your voice."

"Likewise," you replied, though your thoughts kept drifting back to the mention of the ring. "So, about that ring...?"

"Oh!" Diana said, realizing she might have let something slip before Spencer had a chance to talk to you. "It’s your grandmother’s engagement ring. Spencer and I were talking, and, well, he thought it might be nice to have it... for the future."

Your heart skipped a beat, the weight of her words settling in. Spencer was thinking about marriage, about proposing to you. Suddenly, the reality of your relationship felt larger, heavier in the best possible way.

"That’s... really sweet," you managed to say, though your voice wavered slightly, emotions swirling beneath the surface.

Diana’s tone softened, sensing what this meant for you. "He loves you so much, Y/N. I can see it every time he talks about you. I’m sure when he’s ready, it’ll be perfect."

You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. "Thank you, Diana. I appreciate that."

After a few more moments of polite conversation, you hung up the phone, still clutching it in your hand as you stared off into the distance. When Spencer came back a little while later, arms full of bags, completely unaware of what had transpired, you gave him a warm, knowing smile, your heart swelling with even more love for the man who had just picked up your favorite snacks.

"Everything okay?" he asked, noticing your slightly different demeanor.

"Yeah," you replied softly, still holding onto that secret knowledge. "Everything’s alright."

—

When Spencer finally brought the ring home, he did so with a heart full of intentions and a mind made up to bridge any distance that had crept between you two. The apartment you shared was softly lit, the ambiance calm and intimate—an environment that felt right for what he planned to do.

It was just an ordinary evening by all appearances, but for Spencer, it carried the weight of every moment that led up to this, every trial and misunderstanding, and every reaffirmation of his love for you.

You noticed he was a bit more fidgety than usual, pacing slightly before stopping in front of you, taking a deep breath as if to steady himself. You watched, curiosity piqued by his nervous demeanor, a soft smile playing on your lips, encouraging him silently.

"Y/N," he began, his voice stronger than his trembling hands. "I know there have been times when I haven't communicated well, when I've let my fears and past dictate how I handle our future." He paused, searching your eyes for understanding. "For every moment you felt you weren't enough, I am profoundly sorry. It was never about you not being enough; it was about me being too scared to admit how much I needed you."

You felt a rush of emotions at his words, warmth spreading through your chest, your eyes welling up with tears that mirrored the sincerity and vulnerability in his voice.

He took another deep breath, then knelt before you, the little box in his hand now open to reveal a ring—his grandmother's ring, rich with history and sentiment. "I can't imagine my life without you, and I don't ever want to try," he continued, his voice steady despite the tears that started to form in his eyes. "Will you marry me, Y/N? Will you be the joy in my every day and the peace in every night? Will you let me spend the rest of my life proving that you are, and always will be, more than enough for me?"

The room seemed to hold its breath as you took in the depth of his proposal, every word infused with his love and regret for any pain he had caused. Smiling through your tears, you nodded, words momentarily failing you as emotions took over.

"Yes, Spencer," you managed, voice choked with emotion. "Yes, I will marry you."

As he slipped the ring onto your finger, a symbol of promise and continuity, you both embraced, a long, tight hug that spoke volumes. It was a new beginning, a recommitment not just to each other but to always striving to be the best for each other.

In that moment, the past's shadows seemed to dissolve, replaced by the clarity of a shared future, one built on mutual love, respect, and the unwavering commitment to see each other through not just the easy moments, but especially through the challenging ones.

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calder · 11 months

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Released in 2010, Obsidian Entertainment's Fallout: New Vegas actively concerns itself with the realities of gay existence, and is widely recognized as a noteworthy work of queer science fiction. New Vegas extensively examines social attitudes towards homosexuality among the game's major factions, and primarily conveys this lore through gay and bisexual characters describing their own experiences. It also allowed the player to mechanically set the Courier's sexual orientation. By taking both available perks, the player character can be bisexual. By choosing neither, the player can opt out of seeing flirtatious dialogue options.

Uniquely, Fallout: New Vegas explores homosexuality in the context of wasteland societies, and touches upon related issues. The core theme of New Vegas is that the desire to recreate the past is driven by irrational nostalgia, and any endeavor to manifest past glory is dangerous and doomed. The social issue of homophobia is used as a demonstrative example. The resurrection of corporate and military power structures presents new avenues for Old World problems such as institutional homophobia to reemerge. One of the many issues that divide the New California Republic and Caesar's Legion is the latter's open persecution of gay people. The NCR is described as tolerant and even accepting of same-sex relationships, though acceptance tends to fall off the further one moves away from the developed, urbanized core of New California. In recent years, the Republic's rapid economic transformation has led to an unforeseen erosion of the humanitarian ideals which it was founded to serve. In practice, to recreate America was to take on its shortcomings and its sins. As subsistence scavenging has dried up, the people of the NCR increasingly turn to wage labor, entrepreneurial venture, or military enlistment to keep their families fed. Meanwhile, their government enacts morally corrosive imperialism (narrative verbiage), their dominion expanding indefinitely as their infrastructure crumbles from within. This has led to a profit-based imperial monoculture which must conquer, consume, and coerce to perpetuate. As personal politics and service labor grow in importance, people find themselves more inclined to present as "normal" in the interest of financial stability and political expedience. A loading screen visualizes this culture of artificial social normalcy: the portrait of President Aradesh on the NCR 5$ bill neglects to depict his unibrow, earring, and facial scarification, overall portraying the once-chieftain so cleanly-cut as to be unrecognizable at first glance. He also appears to be wearing a collared shirt or suit as opposed to the robe he wore in Fallout.

In the Legion, Caesar has mandated that every legionnaire take a wife and produce children, citing high infant mortality rates and the constant need for soldiers, and going as far as instituting child quotas. He treats human beings as a resource to be exploited for war. Ostensibly in this aim homosexuality has been declared a capital offense punishable by death. Historically, routine demonstrations of violence towards women and gay people are a deliberate feature of fascist societies, the only logical cultural conclusion of a government devoted entirely to war and control. In Forlorn Hope letter 9, an NCR soldier wrote wrote the following to his boyfriend:

Dearest Andrew, Writing this seems pretty morbid, but tomorrow we march into the no man's land between our camp and Nelson, which is crawling with Legion. The Major insisted I write this damn "if you get this, I'm dead" letter so here it is. What a crock. I have the luck of the devil and your love on my side, so I'll be home soon. Keep the porch light on for me. We'll party in New Vegas when I get back. I love you. —Devin

Devin believed he would prevail over the Legion because his love would keep him safe. He was found dying or dead on the battlefield, the letter was found on his body. In a post-release patch, the injured soldiers were removed from the battlefield for performance reasons, and never re-implemented. Driven largely in reaction to the Legion's hyper-masculine posturing and misogyny, rumors persist across the Mojave that gay male relationships are not only common within the Legion, but condoned. These rumors are repeated commonly in NCR society. A closeted NCR Major mentions that the Legion is "a little more... forgiving" about close male "friendships," speaking in a hushed tone to avoid suspicion. At the same outpost, the player can encounter Cass, a bisexual civilian woman. She may flirt with a male Courier, who may imply they are gay, prompting her to imply gay men are more common in the Legion. Even as gay men fight and die in the name of love under his command, NCR General Oliver may remark to Courier Six at the Second Battle of Hoover Dam: "If you think after all that's happened, I'm going to grab my ankles and take it like the Legion..."

This writing pertains to institutionalized homophobia which manifests in practice though power structures and social interactions without being written into law. Simply put, in his derogatory remark, the general expresses to his army that military surrender is gay, much like their gay enemy. From the brevity and bluntness of this remark, it's clear that this sentiment is already well understood among his ranks. Logically, to project strength in the eyes of such a leader, one might also project homophobia by scrutinizing and harassing one's peers and subordinates. In this atmosphere, the expression of homophobia is not only normalized, but materially incentivized. For the ambitious, it becomes a tool, and a way of casting shame upon rivals. For the closeted, homophobia becomes a survival tactic, hoping to throw scrutiny off oneself. This is why Major Knight is immediately frightened when a male Courier flirts with him. He is so profoundly alienated that he romanticizes life as a gay man under the Legion. The Legion punish homosexuality with death, and yet Knight characterizes them as more "forgiving" than the NCR. Through these apparently disparate events, the audience can trace how a distorted perception of gay people emerges among insecure men in a military environment, and subsequently becomes ingrained in the corresponding civilian culture. At the 188 Trading Post, a lesbian from the Brotherhood of Steel named Veronica also wryly remarks that she believes legionaries have gay sex about as often as straight sex. She also notes that this only applies to men, as women have no rights whatsoever in Legion society. In this aside, she conveys a pre-existing frustration with lesbophobic social norms. Veronica also mentions that the people of her bunker would rather she remain on the surface. The Mojave Brotherhood of Steel has no official policy prohibiting homosexuality, but an implicit attitude among its dominant members that their limited numbers require everyone to have children to avoid extinction. Numerically, this may seem logical on the surface, given their reluctance to recruit outsiders. However, given their tiny population, this is an ineffective countermeasure, as they do not have nearly enough members to maintain genetic diversity for more than a few generations. This approach is not universally supported by all family units within the Brotherhood, but every individual is ultimately at the mercy of the elder. Veronica was in a lesbian relationship, but they were quietly separated by Elder Elijah, due to the dominant culture of enforcing heterosexual pairing among their population.

Caesar's law has not ended homosexuality within his domain. Despite the obvious risks, some legionaries have continued to pursue relationships behind closed doors, especially given their access to slaves. So long as members complete their societal obligations and fulfill the child quotas, they are able to pursue romance with other men in secret. Homosexual relationships in the faction are noted as being relatively equal compared to the average Legion husband and wife, in a "Don't Ask, Don't Tell" sort of open secret policy. Gay legionaries must always make sure to keep their activities hidden. A centurion was once almost caught fraternizing with the teenage boy he had chosen to tend his tent. Despite previous "romantic" intentions, he quickly resolved to dispose of the slave to dispel suspicion. Had they been caught together, the centurion would have been charged with homosexuality and sentenced to death. This story is only known because the enslaved young man, Jimmy, managed to escape execution. Further illustrating the cruelty intrinsic to Legion governance, it's stated that homosexuality was the crime, and not the rape of a young slave; in fact, it seems Jimmy was forced to contribute to the child quota despite being a gay teenager, and the experience left him traumatized. He has resolved to never have sex with another woman, as the very notion triggers memories which fill him with disgust, and (in his own words) makes him feel like a slave all over again. The Strip is indifferent to gay people, viewing them as another opportunity to make caps. Both the Gomorrah and the Atomic Wrangler are interested in maximizing profits, and their prostitution services cater to clients regardless of their orientation. The openly gay Jimmy works at nearby Casa Madrid, but there is some tension among his peers due to his co-worker Maude's blatant homophobia. She supposes he's "okay, for one of those," and if propositioned by a female Courier, Maude will direct them to Sweetie for such "perverted" services. Pretty Sarah must regularly intervene to keep the peace among her staff.

The Followers of the Apocalypse, well-read punks who seek to embody healing through anarchistic values, are not concerned with gender. Most are openly and casually sexually active. Upon meeting Courier Six, Arcade Gannon offhandedly makes his gayness known, unprompted. The audience must face the fact that Arcade's apprehension of the Legion is far from abstract; under Legion law, he would be put to death. One possible ending gives further insight into Caesar's hypocrisy: should the player sell Arcade into slavery and leave Caesar alive, he will keep Arcade as a personal physician and philosophical advisor. They intellectually spar at length, and Caesar grows singularly fond of him. Accordingly, Arcade imitates the historic suicide of Cato the Younger by disemboweling himself. The Legion's remaining medics attempted to save his life, but none were Arcade's equal. Caesar understood his doctor's final gesture of contempt, and mourned him for months.

New Vegas ventures further into themes of healing from the trauma of sexual violence, from the perspective of a lesbian character. Corporal Betsy, an NCR sharpshooter, is a rape survivor, and suffers with PTSD from the incident. Her unprocessed trauma has manifested as a maladaptive tendency to aggressively and explicitly proposition the women she encounters, in an effort to reassert a sense of control. This defensive hypersexual impulse has negatively impacted her ability to connect with other women. A male superior officer notes that her behavior is inappropriate for anyone of her stature, but abstains from disciplining her out of sincere concern for her mental health. The Courier can help her begin to recognize these problems, and convince her to seek treatment from Doctor Usanagi at the New Vegas medical clinic, which proves helpful to her as she processes and heals from her trauma.

In Old World Blues, the Think Tank are five floating brains in jars who express themselves by waving robotic arms bearing screens depicting facial features. Before the War, they were federal scientists who committed crimes against humanity in the name of weapons development. Each is stuck in some sort of neuro-bionic feedback loop which prevents them from moving forward with their projects, mentally binding them to their central laboratory. Walking through their homes at Higgs Village, it's clear each was deeply neurotic before they were transformed into floating brains. Now without bodies, they attempt to maintain the illusion that they are exempt from sexuality as purely mental beings, but each displays obvious interest in the human form. They have codified this shaming with the term "formography." Most of the men are obsessively defensive over their complete disinterest in penises, which they talk about constantly. However, the shameless Dr. Dala shows overwhelming interest in observing and recording any and all human functions. Already androgynous in her pre-War life, Dala has taken to self-identifying as a "gender neutral entity" (though she is not known to use they/them pronouns). Regardless of the Courier's gender, they may coquettishly scratch themselves, clear their throat, and stretch in front of Dala until her biomed gel decoagulates. Dr. 8 also responds positively to graphic masturbation advice from Couriers of either gender. The X-8 research facility is ostensibly a massive immersive shrine to Doctor Borous's hatred of Richie "Ball-Lover" Marcus, a long-dead child who bullied Borous centuries ago. He also clings to his resentment of one Betsy Bright, who refused to attend a dance with him, supposedly so she could "go smoke with RICHIE MARCUS." Clearly arrested in development, Borous has literally built a temple to the fantasy of torturing his adolescent romantic rival and feeding him to dogs. His frozen, static characterization of the jock Richie Marcus as a "pinko-commie" who "likes balls" reflects the shallowness, pettiness, and overall misanthropy underlying his patriotic identity. It remains apparent throughout Old World Blues that the Think Tank are all chronically sexually repressed, which is inseparable from the values of the violent and judgmental pre-War culture which created them. With time and isolation, this ingrained repression has manifested as various intense and deranged psychosexual behaviors, including rage-fueled homophobia, voyeurism, and the obsessive performance of puritanical pretense.

____

“Although I’ve been out for a very long time, I made a conscious effort to be out with relation to this project, as I wanted to be visible as a lesbian in the game industry. New Vegas itself is, I think, one of (if not the) best games out there in how we treat homosexuality – and all of that is very intentional.”

“If my work on FNV, if my being out has helped even one gay person, then I have succeeded.” — Tess “Obsidian’s Gay Cowgirl” Treadwell

____

written (with help from other editors) for fallout.fandom.com/wiki/LGBT_representation_in_the_Fallout_series criticism welcome

#fnv

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mstase · 9 months

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— ; ASTROLOGY OBSERVATIONS

mercury-venus people usually possess nicely shaped, plump, and rosy lips. their voices are soothing and pleasant to listen to, and they have a charming and articulate way of expressing themselves. 🤌🗣️

people with moon-neptune aspects feel emotions more intensely and get easily hurt by the slightest things. their emotions are like sponges, soaking up feelings from around them because their emotional boundaries are not as clear. it’s crucial for them to develop healthy ways to handle emotions and set boundaries to navigate their feelings.

i have never met someone with mars-pluto who isn’t deeply committed to their pursuits. these people exhibit a fervent and determined approach to their hobbies, goals, and preferences. very intense when passionate about something. 👺

people with venus in 4th house are so sentimental, which they express by taking photos and collecting things that hold significance to them. these individuals find joy in revisiting cherished memories, often feeling a strong sense of nostalgia and fondness when reminiscing about the past.

aries risings are so easy to spot, imo. their goal-oriented and driven personalities are so noticeable. they always effortlessly carry themselves with a sense of confidence, even if they aren’t feeling that way. also, they have the body goals and can seem to be everyone’s type. 👠

i feel like people with venus in 10th house are more inclined to keep their romantic relationships private and not show off their partners in a flamboyant or public manner. there could be a preference for a more reserved and discreet expression of affection, aligning with the conservative traits associated with capricorn.

also, they value their reputation highly, and as a result, they may be sensitive to criticism. the fear of negative judgment or criticism can affect them emotionally, leading them to be cautious and selective in how much they disclose about their personal life in public settings.

jupiter in 11th house natives are so lucky when it comes to friends. they have a natural ability to gain favor and support from others, especially within their social circles. their optimistic and generous nature can attract friends who are willing to help them in their personal and intellectual growth

natives with saturn-ascendant may naturally have a serious or contemplative facial expression, which can lead others to assume they are upset or mad even when they may not be. 🤷🏻‍♀️

pluto in 7th house people have *major* trust issues, often stemming from deep-seated experiences of being used or witnessing toxic relationships, particularly within their family or home environment. this placement can make them psychologically inclined to analyze and understand someone on a profound level before forming close connections.

mars in taurus individuals tend to exhibit a slower pace in their movements, including walking. these individuals may find comfort in taking their time, preferring a measured and persistent stride over hurried or impulsive actions.

this is really short but i hope you enjoyed reading it <3 @mstase

#astrology #astrology observations #astro observations #astro notes #astro community #astro #astro placements #gemini rising #aries rising #mars in taurus #pluto in the 7th house #venus in the 4th house #venus in the 10th house #mars aspects #venus aspects

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doctor-donnaa · 8 months

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"Wild Blue Yonder" is such a phenomenal episode and it instantly became one of the best DW episodes for a simple reason that it combines all the best aspects of Doctor Who AND it is a combination of genres AND it is entirely character driven and atmospheric.

This episode is everything - comedy, drama, horror, mystery, psychological thriller and sci-fi adventure.

It relies entirely on atmospherics and character dynamic.

They really put two brilliant actors and let them shine and give everything they got in so many different genres.

There were silly comedic moments

Heart-wrenching dramatic moments

Terrifying and bone-chilling moments

But the true testament to the acting talent of David Tennant and Catherine Tate was that the episode had only 2 actors in it and 4 characters. But it truly felt like there were 4 different people in the episode. And the task was not easy. These were Doctor and Donna but not quite Doctor and Donna. Like Donna said "The Devil's in the details". It was all in the voice, the stare, the posture, the mannerisms that made these creatures of nightmares so terrifying, because they had the essence of the Doctor and Donna but had it so horribly distorted and twisted and not right at the same time!

And the fact that David and Catherine delivered such a nuanced performance that captured these details so flawlessly deserves all the awards!

The episode is driven by themes and motifs - fear of being known, fear of the unknown and unexplained, fear of being misunderstood, abandoned, not good enough, fear of someone you love not understanding or truly knowing you. The plot also provides individual character development and exploration of relationship between the Doctor and Donna who have not seen each other in years, who are so close and yet were separated by time and space for ages and have changed so much during that time, that neither of them is the same but desperately want to be seen the same way as they used to be by each other. It is also nostalgia and desire for things to be exactly like they used to be.

What can be scarier than monsters who have no physical form or visual manifestation, who steal your personality and bear your face but distort them in the most horrific ways both literally and figuratively? What is scarier than something that has a conscience but can not be seen or touched or categorized? What is scarier than something that can exploit your fears and insecurities and turn them against you?

"Wild Blue Yonder" creates an atmosphere that immerses you in that world which is both a confined space but also the endless dark nothingness, makes you scared, sad, makes you laugh, makes you cry, makes you think how the fictitious horrors of this episode are driven almost entirely by the very human fears of the unknown and being known at the same time. "Wild Blue Yonder" is a masterpiece of acting and storytelling and that's what makes this episode stand out as such a brilliant story! Doctor Who can be silly AND deep at the same time, and when it happens, it is absolutely fantastic!

#doctor who #dw meta #dw diaries #text

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obsidian-pages777 · 5 days

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Pick a Card: Who will you be with by Next September? [Autumn Themed]

Left ->Right = Pile 1->Pile 3

Introduction

This is simply a reading as to who you would be in a relationship with by next September if you ever got into one in the coming few months.

================================================

Pile 1

This person you will be with will be someone that enjoys reading, being cozy, and has keen intellectual interests. They might be someone who prefers quiet nights in, discussing ideas and philosophies.

The Hermit card reflects someone introspective, wise, and focused on intellectual pursuits. They are likely an avid reader, enjoying moments of solitude to delve deep into their thoughts. Their introspection will draw you into meaningful conversations. The Hierophant on the other hand symbolizes a person with a strong sense of tradition and learning. They enjoy studying and expanding their knowledge, possibly someone with academic or scholarly leanings. This partner may also be involved in teaching or mentoring in some capacity. The Four of Swords has appeared. This card suggests a person who values peace and quiet, often retreating to rest and recharge. They enjoy cozy evenings, curling up with a book, and might even love a peaceful, intellectual escape.

The person in Pile 1 is an intellectual, possibly a deep thinker who enjoys intellectual stimulation in the form of books, discussions, and reflection. Their quiet, cozy, and introspective nature could make them someone with whom you enjoy tranquil, thoughtful moments.

What this partner will love about you:

Your own thoughtful and reflective nature that engages them in deep conversations.

Your curiosity and desire to be deep, which complements their love for knowledge.

Your ability to create a peaceful, comforting environment where they can relax.

Your appreciation for quiet moments and intellectual intimacy.

Your shared love of cozy nights in, enjoying books, or discussing meaningful topics.

What you will love about this partner:

Their intellectual depth and ability to challenge and expand your thinking.

Their calm and introverted nature, making every moment spent together feel tranquil.

Their passion for books, philosophy, or academic pursuits, which brings exciting conversations.

Their deep wisdom and introspection, making them feel like an old soul.

Their ability to create an atmosphere of coziness and mental stimulation.

================================================================================================

Pile 2

This individual has a rich ancestry and is deeply connected to their family roots. They are on a journey to fulfill a family destiny, with a strong sense of heritage and purpose.

The Emperor card has shown up - This card represents a strong, authoritative figure, likely someone who takes their responsibilities seriously. They may be following in their family's footsteps or playing an important role in maintaining a legacy. Stability and tradition are important to them. The Six of Cups card often relates to nostalgia and family ties. It suggests that this person has a deep emotional connection to their ancestry, with childhood memories and family traditions playing a huge role in their life. They might be seeking to honor their lineage in everything they do. The Chariot appeared - This card indicates determination and purpose. This individual is on a personal or family-driven quest, possibly fulfilling a family mission. They are goal-oriented, and their journey is connected to honoring their past while paving a new path forward.

Your Person in Pile 2 is deeply rooted in their ancestry, driven by a mission or legacy connected to their family. They are likely on a path of self-discovery and fulfillment of a familial destiny. Tradition, family values, and legacy will be central in their life and relationship.

What this partner will love about you:

Your thoughtful and reflective nature that engages them in deep conversations and lighthearted topics.

Your curiosity and desire to enjoy life, which complements their love for life.

Your ability to create an exciting environment where they can relax and have fun as well.

Your appreciation for fun-filled moments and emotional intimacy and banter.

Your shared love of cozy nights in and time spent out, enjoying time together as a family as well as individually together, or discussing topics with a sense of lighthearted banter.

What you will love about this partner:

Their depth and ability to challenge and expand your thinking.

Their calm, chaotic and extroverted nature, making every moment spent together feel tranquil.

Their passion for exciting games, books, academic pursuits or travel pursuits, which brings exciting conversations.

Their deep wisdom and introspection, making them feel like an old soul as well as their family oriented nature.

Their ability to create an atmosphere of coziness and mental stimulation.

================================================================================================

Pile 3

This individual loves to indulge in the pleasures of life, wining and dining in luxurious settings. They are drawn to intimate, romantic evenings, especially indoors with soft candlelight and a glass of wine.

The Lovers - A card of passion and romantic connection, this suggests a deeply affectionate and intimate relationship. This person thrives on the closeness that comes with romantic gestures, and they will likely prioritize spending quality, indulgent time together. The Nine of Cups - Known as the "wish fulfillment" card, this individual loves to enjoy life’s pleasures. They are all about indulgence, comfort, and creating an atmosphere of luxury. Their happiness stems from sharing those beautiful moments, like sipping wine under candlelight. The Four of Wands - This card represents celebration and joyful union. It indicates that this person loves creating an environment of warmth and joy, often hosting or planning intimate gatherings. They may find happiness in celebrating life's small and big moments with you in a romantic setting.

The person in Pile 3 is a romantic who loves indulgence and intimacy. They enjoy wining and dining, candlelight moments, and spending cozy evenings indoors. They will likely cherish every moment of closeness and will make sure your time together feels luxurious and warm.

What this partner will love about you:

Your romantic nature and appreciation for their thoughtful gestures.

Your love for intimate, cozy evenings together, enjoying the simple pleasures of life.

Your ability to indulge in luxurious moments without taking things too seriously.

Your openness to being pampered and enjoying life’s finer things.

Your desire to spend quality, romantic time together indoors, which matches their own preferences.

What you will love about this partner:

Their passion for romance and attention to detail, making every moment feel special.

Their indulgent nature and love of creating luxurious, intimate experiences.

Their focus on making you feel loved and cherished through thoughtful, romantic gestures.

Their deep appreciation for the cozy, candlelit atmosphere and other luxurious date nights and lovely hangouts that they always plan for and provide.

Their ability to create a warm, loving environment that feels like a constant celebration of your connection.

================================================================================================

#pick a card #pick a pile #pick a photo #tarot reading #pick one #pick a picture #pick a card reading #pick a card tarot

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coffeeshades · 2 months

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credits to the gif maker!

GUILTY AS SIN...? - PART I

summary: one summer with the man you can't have, but can't stop thinking about.

pairing: cillian murphy x popstar!reader

word count: 5.5k

warnings: 18+ (minors dni). mentions of sex. angst. cussing, slight age gap, mentions of alcohol and divorce. no use of y/n, heavily inspired by ts and ttpd. if i missed something please let me know. (also this is a work of fiction, none of it reflects how i feel about the people mentioned in this, most importantly cillian's wife, who im sure is a sweetheart irl. it's fiction, just relax and enjoy it, and if not, move along, friends.)

a/n: hi everyone! this turned out pretty long so i will be splitting it into parts so it's easier. next part will be posted soon. i hope you all have as much fun reading this as i had writing it. enjoy!

part two

The breeze riffled through your hair as you drove, the sun warming your skin through the open windows. The Irish countryside stretching out before you, lush and green, with rolling hills and quaint villages dotting the landscape. The scent of wildflowers and the sound of nothing but the wind in the trees filled your senses.

It was rare, really. The silence, the feeling of complete freedom, and the solitude that enveloped you. A fleeting escape from the chaos of your everyday life.

The ping of your phone interrupted the peaceful moment. You tapped on the pop-up notification after briefly glancing at the directions to your destination. It was a message from Cillian. Well, two, actually. One was asking how far you were, and the other was a Spotify link followed by a question mark. Ever since he started hosting his bbc radio show, he's been sending you potential songs for his playlists to get your opinion. Not that he needs it anyway. But you always appreciate being included in his process.

Your lips curled into a smile as you clicked on the link. The familiar sound of The Blue Nile's "The Downtown Lights" flooded the car, instantly making you feel a wave of nostalgia. It's been ages since you've listened to that song. The synth-pop melody carries you up the pine-dotted path to where his house perches atop a hill, overlooking the crashing waves below. You've been here a couple of times, and yet it never gets less breathtaking. The Victorian architecture contrasting beautifully with the rugged coastline, creating a scene straight out of a painting.

The car glides right past the wrought iron gates, and you cut the engine in front of the stone steps leading up to the grand entrance. You shoot Cillian a quick text letting him know you're here, unbuckle your seat belt, and hop out of the car.

The June sun beats down on your skin instantly, heat radiating off the cobblestones as you open the backdoor to look through your bag for a hair tie. The smell of saltwater mingles with the sound of gulls overhead, sending you into sensory overload. "Gotcha," you mutter to yourself as you finally find the hair tie and pull your hair back into a loose bun.

"You drove here?" you hear him call out from behind you, his voice tinged with surprise. "And you're alone?" you turn around to see Cillian walking towards you, a curious expression on his face.

"I actually had to throw a tantrum to convince them to let me come alone," you reply with a chuckle, feeling a sense of pride at your small victory. "I was like, It's Ireland. What's the worst that could happen?"

Being who you are means being guarded against any potential danger or harm at all times, being driven to almost everywhere, and always having a security team around.

Cillian laughs, a sound that makes your heart flutter and makes you want to hear it again and again. "Well, I'm glad you made it here in one piece, love," he says with a grin. "You're not a very good driver."

Your cheeks flush with embarrassment. You did regret your decision to drive from the airport 10 minutes later when you realized you were on the wrong side of the road. But he didn't need to know that.

"I made it in one piece, didn't I?" you playfully retort, trying to salvage your wounded pride. Cillian chuckles and shakes his head with a twinkle in his eye. You stare at each other for what feels like an eternity. He looks good, you thought. Unbelievably good. Well rested. His jet black hair was perfectly styled, even though you know he didn't put any effort into it—the slightest hint of silver at the temples, his sharp jawline, and those piercing blue eyes that seemed to see right through you. Though they looked a little tired, as if he had been through a lot since the last time you saw him.

You quickly avert your gaze, feeling a rush of heat on your cheeks.

"It's good to see you," you finally manage to say, trying to sound casual. Cillian's smile softens, and he replies, "It's good to see you too." He opens his arms, inviting you in for a hug. The soft fabric of his t-shirt brushes against your skin as you embrace him, and for a moment, everything feels right in the world.

"Come on, let's get inside," he says, leading you towards the house. Once inside, you make your way to the kitchen. The house was quiet; you wondered if anyone else was home. Cillian's family wasn't by any means loud or boisterous, but the silence felt heavier than usual.

"You hungry, love?" Cillian asks, opening the fridge, pulling out a white ceramic container, and setting it up on the kitchen island. You take a seat on one of the stools while he stands across from you.

"For something sweet?" you smile, seeing the container filled with what seems to be a piece of strawberry sponge cake. His mom must've made it. "Always," you reply. He hands you a spoon and takes one for himself, the two of you sharing the dessert in comfortable silence.

Until he broke it.

"How was Madrid?" he asks softly.

"It was good, great crowd," you reply, taking another bite of the dessert. "But tiring," you add, feeling the exhaustion of the long trip settling in.

"How many nights did you perform?"

"Four."

"Jesus, that's quite a lot, isn't it?"

Your eyes meet his; confusion clear in your expression. "You think that's a lot? Didn't you used to do four or five nights in a row of the same play?" you ask, raising an eyebrow. "for months…?

"Yeah, but that was a different kind of exhaustion," he explains, taking another bite. "Performing the way you do in front of a live audience for three hours is a whole different ball game, love."

Love.

There it was again. That godforsaken term of endearment that he seemed to throw around so casually. It made your heart race every time he said it, even though you knew it probably meant nothing to him. But the way he looked at you now, with a hint of admiration in his eyes, made you wonder if maybe—

"Want the last bite?" he offered, taking you out of your thoughts. He pushed the container towards you, a small smile playing on his lips. His gaze was intense, as if silently urging you to take it.

"Oh, hello," a voice exclaimed from behind you, breaking the moment. You drop the spoon on the counter, a little startled. As if you were caught in the act of something forbidden. You turned around to see Yvonne, Cillian's wife. She said your name with a surprised tone, making you feel guilty for some reason. "I didn't know you were here," she continued, her eyes flickering between you and her husband.

You started to rise from your seat, confusion clouding your thoughts. That's weird. Cillian usually lets his wife know when you're visiting, but this time it seems like he didn't. She walked towards you, enveloping you in a hug. "When did you get here?" she said.

"Not long ago," you replied, relieved that she didn't seem upset. "I, uh, wanted to take a break and thought Ireland might be a good place to do that," you added, hoping to diffuse any tension that may have arisen. She nodded understandingly. "And you're staying here?"

"Oh, no, no," you quickly assured her. "I rented a place nearby, so you don't have to worry about me."

"Nonsense," Cillian interjected. "You can stay here. There's plenty of room."

"She's already paid for it, Cillian," Yvonne retorted, giving him a stern look.

Something was definitely off.

This was the last thing you wanted. You've specifically chosen the cottage for two reasons. First, to have space. The whole point of this trip was to finally have peace and write music. You've been stuck for months, not being able to find inspiration in your usual surroundings. Everything felt dull inside you all day—an emptiness that was smothering.

Second, you needed to stay the fuck away from Cillian. Being close to him was dangerous territory, one you didn't want to navigate right now. The plan was to come and visit and occasionally hang out and that's it. The thought of being in such close quarters with him was overwhelming. Staying here meant risking your heart and sanity.

You hesitated, also not wanting to intrude on their space, but Cillian insisted.

"Okay…How about if I stay for a couple of days and then move to the cottage?" you suggested, hoping to compromise. "Sounds perfect to me," he said.

This was going to be a long summer.

For the next few days, you dream too much, don't write enough, and try to find inspiration everywhere. As you settled into the routine of staying at Cillian's, you found yourself enjoying the peaceful surroundings and his company more than you expected. The days seemed to blend together, filled with laughter, deep conversations, and stolen glances that left your heart racing.

But you also felt constantly distracted by his presence, making it difficult to focus on your writing or anything else, for that matter.

All you could think about was him.

The piano room surrounded you with its warm, inviting atmosphere, and you found yourself drawn to it more often than not. The big windows overlooking the garden let in streams of sunlight, casting a warm glow over the bookshelf. You felt the softness of the carpet as you sat on the grand piano bench, running your fingers along the keys absentmindedly.

You started humming a tune that had been stuck in your head for days, the words appearing softly and effortlessly as you played:

Please

I've been on my knees

Change the prophecy

Don't want money

Just someone who wants my company

[Hum, Hum, Hum]

Who do I have to speak to

About if they can redo

The prophecy?

The humming went on whenever you didn't know what to say next, filling in the gaps between the notes on the piano and the lyrics:

A greater woman has faith

[Hum, Hum, Hum]

I'm so afraid I sealed my fate

No sign of soulmates

I'm just a paperweight

[Hum, Hum, Hum]

Spending my last coin so someone will tell me

It'll be ok

[Hum, Hum, Hum]

The melody filled the room until you stopped abruptly, frustrated that the lyrics weren't coming as easily as before. You closed your eyes with a groan, trying to clear your mind. "Fuck," you muttered under your breath, elbows resting on the keys of the piano.

"You good?" Cillian's rough voice broke through your frustration, causing you to look up and offer a weak smile. You don't know how long he's been standing there or how much he heard of your struggles. "Just hitting a wall with this song," you admitted, running a hand through your hair.

"Ah, I see," he nodded sympathetically. He moved towards the records stacked on the shelf and pulled one out, placing it on the turntable. "I don't want to mess with your creative process or anything, but maybe a break with some music will help," he suggested.

Radiohead's "Fake Plastic Trees" began to play, taking over the room with its haunting melody.

"So you play one of the saddest songs ever?" you deadpanned, "Thanks."

He chuckled softly, "You were playing some pretty intense stuff; I figured it would fit right in."

Oh, so he did hear you.

"Ah, I know it's different from my usual stuff," you said quietly, suddenly feeling a bit self-conscious about your music. "I might scrap that one. They might not be onboard with the change."

"And why's that?"

Thom Yorke's voice faded into the background as you contemplated his question, unsure of how to respond.

You shrugged, "I listen to sad music, not make it."

"I liked what I heard," he reassured you, "and change is good. It keeps things interesting."

His low voice was soothing, and you found yourself feeling more at ease with the idea of trying something new. Pop has been your comfort zone for so long, it's what stands out of you, but most importantly, it's what sells. At least, that's what's important to the industry. Maybe it was time to push yourself out of it.

"I guess you're right," you replied, a faint smile creeping onto your face.

"As always," he said, and you fought the urge to roll your eyes. He stood leaning against the table where the record player sat, arms crossed, looking as if he had too many things to say and not enough words for them.

"Would this be a good time to ask you if everything's okay?" you inquired, noticing the weight of unspoken thoughts in his eyes. "With Yvonne, I mean," you added, nervous to bring up the topic.

That first day, when you arrived at the house, you could sense there was something going on between them. Something bad. The tension in the air was so obvious, but you didn't want to pry. However, as the days went by, it became increasingly difficult to ignore the fact that she hadn't been around or the absence of a certain ring on his finger.

"And here, I thought you were never going to ask," he replied, his words laced with sarcasm.

"I was waiting for you to bring it up," your voice trailed off, unsure of how to proceed. "I-I didn't want to overstep."

He studied you for a moment, or at least, you assumed that was what he was doing. Finally, he averted his gaze and cleared his throat,"We've separated."

A cold feeling settled in your chest as you processed his words. The reality of the situation hit you like a ton of bricks, and suddenly everything made sense. "Cillian," is all you managed to say, the concern evident in your voice.

He still wouldn't look at you. Knowing him, in moments like this, he wouldn't want to be coddled or pitied, so you save your apologies for later.

"What happened?"

He waved his hand dismissively, still avoiding your gaze. "Nothing, really," he said, his tone final. He didn't look upset, but rather resigned to the situation. "It hadn't been working for a long time; we both knew it was coming. I guess we were holding on for the boys more than anything." You could see the sadness in his eyes, despite his attempt to appear nonchalant. The weight of his words hung in the air, leaving you feeling defeated and unsure of what to say next. You don't think there's anything you can say that will make this or him feel better.

And boy, did you wish you could take away his pain with just a few words.

Cillian walked slowly over the piano, stopping in front of it. He streched his arms over the wooden soundboard, gripping the edges tightly as if seeking some sort of solace in the instrument. He finally looked at you.

"Why didn't you say anything, Cill?" you asked softly, "I would've—"

"You would've what?" he interrupted, his voice strained with emotion. "I didn't want to worry you, you have more important things than my marital issues."

You could see the pain in his eyes, and it tore at your heart to see him suffering in silence. "You're my friend. These things are important to me, Cill," you said gently, reaching out to touch his hand in a gesture of comfort. He flinched slightly at your touch, but then relaxed, leaning into your hand.

He didn't say anything, but you knew he appreciated your words. You could tell by the way his shoulders slumped in relief and the way his fingers loosened their grip on the edge of the piano.

One morning, you woke up to the wind gently rustling through the trees outside your windows. The morning light was clear and clean, leaking through the glass and falling against the walls of the room in soft patterns. It felt too early to be awake, too peaceful to disturb the tranquility of the moment.

You roll over to look at the little clock on the bedside table: 6:20 AM. It wasn't worth trying to go back to sleep, so you threw the covers and climbed out of bed, feeling the cool wood floor beneath your feet as you walked to the bathroom.

You splash cold water on your face and brush your teeth, trying to wake yourself up fully. Holding up your hair, you tie it into a ponytail while walking over the bedside table to grab your phone and airpods. You put one in your ear and hit shuffle on one of your morning playlists. You couldn't function without some music. "Keep On Loving You" by Cigarettes After Sex starts playing.

On your way to the kitchen, you walked by Cillian's room and noticed the door was slightly ajar. Who the hell sleeps with their door open? Psychos, probably. Curiosity getting the best of you, you peeked inside to see him sprawled out on his bed, body illuminated by the soft morning light filtering through the curtains—characteristic warm and cool shades revealing every hollow and speck of bare muscle. He slept with every limb stretched out, a stark contrast to his usual composed demeanor. It was a rare sight, quite poetic.

He looked so peaceful, completely unaware of your presence. So you let your mind wander.

You imagined yourself crossing the room, pulling yourself on top of him. You imagined the way his bare body would look beneath you, his chest rising and falling with each breath, his dark hair messy around his face, his skin warm against yours. His hands—rough and soft at the same time—running over your thigh, your breast, your neck. You could almost feel the heat of his touch, the intensity of his gaze as he looked up at you.

But then reality snapped back into focus.

"Fuck," you muttered under your breath. This was just a fantasy, a dangerous game to play with someone who was somewhat off-limits. But truth be told, the temptation was becoming harder to resist with each passing moment. It was all you could think about ever since he told you about his troubled marriage.

It took a long time for your heartbeat to slow. You headed to the kitchen to get some coffee, hoping that the caffeine would help clear your mind. As you rummage through the cabinets for a mug, his voice startles you from behind. "Need some help with that?" he asks, making you jump.

For a moment you thought you were still imagining things, but you turn around to see him standing there with a t-shirt on as opposed to five minutes ago. Great, him walking around shirtless in his kitchen, sleepy-eyed, messy hair, and rough morning voice would've been lethal.

"I've got it, thanks," you reply, shaking the mug slightly in your hand. You quickly pour yourself some coffee and try to focus on the task at hand: looking for the sugar.

"Sleep well?" he asks, voice still husky from sleep, his accent more prominent. He's rifling through the cabinet for a mug of his own. You can't help but notice the way his muscles flex under his dark t-shirt as he reaches up. You hum in agreement, trying to hide your blush as you take a sip of your coffee. "You?"

"Grand," he replies, pouring himself a cup of coffee and leaning against the counter. You exchange small talk about the upcoming day, but your mind keeps drifting back to how good he looks in the morning light.

"Any plans for today other than locking yourself in the piano room?" he teases, and you shoot him a playful glare. "Maybe I'll actually venture outside for once," you quip, laughing.

"How does the beach sound like?" he asks, "The boys are coming over, and they're bringing some friends, and I thought a trip would be a nice change of scenery."

"I could use some sun," you admit, feeling a smile tug at your lips.

"Let's make it a beach day then," he suggests, setting his mug on the sink. "We leave at 10, piano woman."

"Ha ha, very funny," you say sarcastically, rolling your eyes. "But I'll hold you to it, annoying man," you reply.

"Annoying man?" he repeats, raising an eyebrow. "I thought I was your favorite person."

"Only on days that end in 'y'."

•••

"Are you done with your sad boy music?"

Cillian bursts out laughing, the sound taking you by surprise. He's been playing Radiohead on repeat for the whole car ride, and you were starting to feel like you were in a melancholy music video. "I like their music as much as the next person, but I think I need a break from the sadness," you say.

"Fine, fine," Cillian concedes, reaching for his phone to change the song. The bleak atmosphere in the car lifts as "Linger" by The Cranberries starts playing, filling the space with a more pleasant vibe. Cillian glances at you, he's wearing dark shades that hide his eyes, but you can still see his stoic expression softening as he catches you smiling at the change in music.

"Better?" he asks, a hint of amusement in his voice.

Instead of answering, you start silently singing along to the lyrics, gesticulating dramatically for added effect. Cillian smiles at your antics, his own lips twitching in amusement as he watches you. The boys were so caught up in their conversation with their friends in the backseat that you were pretty sure they weren't even paying attention to the music or your impromptu performance. With a small smile on your face, you face out the window and enjoy the rest of the car ride in content silence.

When you arrive at your destination, all of you unbuckle your seat belts once Cillian puts the Bronco in park. You all pile out of the car, stretching your legs and taking in the sights around you. You close your eyes for a second and take a breath. The sea air—you loved that smell.

•••

A few hours later, after countless swims and some snacks, you find yourself lying on a beach towel, book in hand, feeling the warmth of the temperature on your skin. You're reading a book you picked up at an airport several months ago by Elin Hilderbrand, or the queen of beach reads, as many call her. You were completely engrossed in the story until you felt Cillian settling down next to you.

His hair was damp from the water, and his skin was slightly glistening. Gosh, he looked absolutely stunning. "Mind if I join you?" he asks.

"Not at all," you reply, closing the book and sitting up. "Having fun?"

"Lots," he says with a smile, reaching over to grab his sunglasses. The two of you sit in comfortable silence. The laughter and chatter of his sons and friends coming from the water redirects your attention back to the beach scene before you. You look back at Cillian, his eyes fixed on his sons.

"They love you, you know," you say softly, watching the genuine joy on his face as he watches his children.

"I don't know if I'm doing it right," he says, eyes still fixed on the boys. "I worry I might've fucked them up by letting my relationship with their mother fall apart."

He continues, "Sometimes I feel they resent me for it."

"Why do you feel that way?"

"I don't know, they just seem distant sometimes. Like they're holding back."

"Hey, that's normal for kids to have mixed feelings about their parents' separation. I was so happy when mine got divorced because it meant no more fighting, but it was also tough to adjust to the changes. It's very conflicting stuff," you say, huffing a small laugh. "Also, they're teenagers now, right? That's a tough age to navigate even without the added stress of divorce."

Cillian nods in agreement, exhaling out a yeah.

You squint against the sunlight beaming behind his head before continuing.

"You're a great dad, you always have been. Just show up and be there for them when they need you, even if they don't always seem to appreciate it. They'll remember it in the long run," you offer, remembering how much your own father's presence meant to you after your parents' divorce. "And I'm not a parent, but what parent feels like they're doing everything right all the time, anyway?"

Cillian turns to look at you. He studies your face for a moment before offering a small smile. "I guess you're right," he says sincerely.

"Fork found in kitchen," you retort, breaking the tension with a bit of humor.

He chuckles, "That's clever."

"Well," you continue, "I've been accused of many things over the years, but being unoriginal isn't one of them."

He laughs. Just like he did back in the car: a genuine, carefree laugh that makes you feel a little lighter.

"Want to go for one last swim, piano woman?"

You roll your eyes. "Will you stop calling me that?"

"Not likely," Cillian replies with a grin. "It's too fitting."

You stand up and stretch. You're wearing a one-piece teal-ish swimsuit that you swear you only chose based on comfort and not because it makes your ass and breasts look fantastic. Cillian's eyes linger on you for a moment before he looks away, and you swear you can see a hint of a blush on his cheeks. He doesn't move.

"Are you coming or…?"

"Right, one last swim," he finally says, standing up and following you towards the water.

Maybe that one last swim wasn't a great idea after all.

And why is that?

Because not even five minutes into the water, you thought it would be a good idea to jump from a high rock, and now you're sitting in the car with your knee scrapped, throbbing in pain, and regretting your impulsive decision.

•••

"You're so fuckin' stubborn."

You try to move into a more comfortable position while ignoring the pain shooting up your leg by pressing a hand against one side of the door to keep yourself steady. "And you're so clearly overreacting."

Cillian pushes his bedroom door open. He's also clearly pissed. The ride back to the house was deathly silent. Well, not silent. His sad boy music made a return, and this time with Broken Social Scene. You couldn't ask him to change the music without starting another argument. Even the kids were quiet, beyond asking several times if you were okay, which you assured them you were. Obviously a lie.

As Cillian walks around the room, you reach for your midi white beachy dress and look down at your knee in horror. It's no longer just a bruise, but a gash that is slowly oozing blood. Not as much as before, but still. It looks nasty underneath the shirt Cillian used from his car as a makeshift bandage.

He grabs the first aid kit from a shelf and turns around to face you.

"Take off your dress."

"Pardon me?"

"Take off your dress so I can properly clean and bandage the wound," Cillian repeats, his expression serious. You look down at the blood-stained fabric as if you needed any more confirmation. "Off, C'mon."

You stiffen at his demand, your body going completely rigid at his bossy tone. You watch him stride into his bathroom. He pushes aside some stuff on the counter and tosses the kit onto the counter.

Okay, yeah. He has good reason to be upset. You had no business jumping from that rock.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" he'd said before, right when he went to get you. And now you can see the anger still simmering beneath the surface.

You can hear him shuffle in the bathroom while you remove your dress. You still have your swimsuit on underneath, but you feel exposed without the extra layer. Maybe the pain is catching up to you or the fact that you have upset him or that he's waiting for you in the bathroom to take care of you but tears sting your eyes as you try to process the situation. You take a moment to collect yourself. You cannot go in there like this, he cannot see you this vulnerable. At least, not now.

He's braced against the counter, head hung low, when you push open the bathroom door. You nearly back out to give him some space or time to compose himself, but his eyes meet yours and his expression straightens. He clears his throat and then freezes. "I—you're wearing your swimsuit."

"I am. Were you expecting me to change into something else?"

"No," he grumbles, "I mean, nevermind."

He turns back and starts grabbing sterile gauze, his movements slightly jerky. He gestures for you to sit on the counter. "Up."

"I'm not sure I can do that given my—" Before you're done speaking, he scoops you up and sets you on the counter. Your hands are locked around his neck, and his are firmly gripping your waist. They fit perfectly there, like they're made to hold you close.

He reaches behind him, both your faces close together now, and grabs your wrists, pulling them away from his neck and onto your thighs. He puts a hand on your uninjured leg, his touch gentle yet firm. "This is going to hurt." You stare at his impossible blue eyes and think to yourself: yes, this is going to hurt.

"Oh, shit shit," you gasp, gripping his forearm. "Holy fuuuck."

"I've got you, breathe," he commands, and you allow yourself to focus on his voice, letting it ground you. The antiseptic burns both your nostrils and knee as he continues to clean the wound, the pain shooting through your leg causing you to clench your teeth.

"I'm sorry," you breathe out.

There's nothing but silence in response.

"I told you multiple times not to go up there," he finally says, his voice tinged with frustration. "And yet."

"I know," you whisper, feeling guilty.

"Don't do that again," he commands, his accent thickening with emotion. "You could've hurt yourself even more."

"I know," you repeat, not sure how else to respond.

His head is bowed in concentration as he finishes cleaning the wound, his hands steady despite the anger in his voice. You can see his dark eyelashes fluttering slightly as he works. He applies a little more pressure to the bandage than he should've, and you let out a soft moan. This doesn't go unnoticed by him.

The air in the room seems to shift. His eyes meet yours, and for a moment, you see something soften in his gaze before he looks away.

"You're not supposed to like that."

Your cheeks heat up immediately.

He's gotten closer to you, your hands somehow made their way to fist his navy blue linen shirt. His body is between your legs, the delicate material of his pants brushing your skin. His breath is warm against your cheek as he leans in closer, his voice barely above a whisper. "But I can't say I mind it either." Your heart races at his proximity, unsure of what to do next.

His hands slide up your thighs, gently caressing your skin, sending shivers down your spine. He's going to kiss you, and you can't help but wonder if it's the right decision to let him.

But now is not the time to be rational about it.

"I'm not gonna stop you," you say quietly, "I wouldn't know how."

His eyes darken, pupils dilating with desire. He doesn't move.

It's like you're both aware of the line you're about to cross, so neither of you moves.

You keep your eyes firmly on his face. His lips inch closer to yours, and you feel the heat of his breath on your skin. Your body is angled towards his, hand gripping the edge of the counter. Your slightly damp hair, now cold, making you shiver.

He's impossibly hard against you, the material of his pants is thin, and you're aware of every inch of him pressing against your throbbing core.

"And I wouldn’t know how to stop kissing you," he whispers, his voice barely audible over the pounding of your heart. He shifts slightly, causing his erection to press even more firmly against you, both letting out a soft moan. His mouth hovers just inches from yours, just kiss me, you thought.

There's a knock on the bedroom door, which is, by the way, open.

"Dad?" You both freeze.

The bathroom door is slightly ajar, offering a sliver of privacy but not enough to shield you from any potential interruptions.

"Yes?" Cillian calls out, trying to sound casual despite the intense moment that was just interrupted. "We're ordering takeout, do you want anything?"

"No, buddy, we're good, thanks," Cillian replies, his voice strained as he tries to keep his composure. You hear the steps retreating down the hallway.

Cillian steps back, and the absence of his body against yours is jarring. It clearly would've been a mistake to take this further, but a mistake that would've felt so fucking good.

"We shouldn't do this."

He clears his throat. "Yeah."

He moves towards the door, his movements tense and purposeful. "I'm gonna—" he says, motioning the door.

"Yeah," you quickly reply, "I got it."

You watch him leave, the air heavy with unspoken words and unfulfilled desires.

a/n: thank you for reading! please share your thoughts with me, let me know if you guys enjoyed it :)

part two

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