#cmbyn scenarios

[jenovascaino]

lee jeno x reader

inspirado em call me by your name

é no verão de 1983 que lee jeno e você se encontram pela primeira vez.

após algumas semanas de planejamento, o caçula dos lee, bons amigos de seus pais, viria passar as férias de verão no norte da itália. a notícia de que se alojaria em sua casa, mais especificamente em seu quarto, só chegou aos seus ouvidos um dia antes, e isso te causou uma grande dor de cabeça.

cuidou para arrumar o quarto do melhor jeito possível. escondeu os diversos ursinhos de pelúcia que enfeitavam a cama num baú que mal fechava, e amontoou todas as roupas num canto do quarto de hóspedes, seu mais novo lugar. agora, tudo o que conectava você de seu antigo quarto era um simples banheiro, onde as duas portas delimitavam onde começava o espaço de um e terminava o do outro.

para ser sincera, não entendeu muito bem o porquê de ter que deixar seu precioso quartinho, e ao falar com os pais foi enxurrada de respostas como “seu quarto é bem mais arrumado e a cama mais macia. não seja malcriada!”, e principalmente a preferida deles “ele é mais velho que você, querida. é uma forma simples de mostrar respeito. obedeça.”. ainda sem entender o motivo para tanta pomposidade, cumpriu com o mandado, mesmo que um pouco irritada.

durante a noite, imitou o homem que viria pela manhã, enchendo-o de movimentos antiquados e exagerados. fingiu segurar uma xícara de chá com o mindinho levantado e ajeitou os óculos imaginários no nariz. passou o indicador em cada móvel e fingiu limpar a poeira com desdém.

— isto aqui é um chiqueiro! — ajeitou a cartola de mentirinha na cabeça. — que mocinha porca a que vocês têm! — imitou a voz do homem num tom caricato, cheio de soberba.

ao se jogar na cama para rir de sua pequena peça, capotou de sono, cansada pela faxina mal feita que havia feito. já no outro dia, acordou disposta, mas com os ossos estalando e os cabelos bagunçados.

só havia dado tempo de tomar um bom banho e vestir um vestido confortável e refrescante quando ouviu o motor do carro, anunciando a chegada do lee. colocou parte do rosto na janela que dava de frente para a entrada, espiando sorrateiramente a cena.

seus pais correram para cumprimentar o homem alto que saia do automóvel, dando-lhe sorrisos e o abraçando como se fosse seu próprio filho. seu pai rodeou os ombros do rapaz e o guiou para dentro da grande casa.

antes que pudesse evitar, pegou-se sorrindo para a figura que acabara de ver. as bochechas haviam ganhado um tom rosadinho, e o coração batia forte. nunca havia visto alguém tão bonito — mesmo que aquilo não servisse de muita coisa, já que só tivera contato com mulheres e homens bem mais velhos. no mesmo instante, a imagem de um senhor barbudo e ranzinza fora apagada de sua mente, e a de um cara alto, forte, moreno e dos traços marcantes tomou seu lugar.

ouvia com atenção os passos pesados no assoalho de madeira e a barulheira que se formava após anos de conversa guardada. o coração ainda agitado ao que acabara de reconhecer o que seria sua primeira paixão.

— querida — ouviu sua mãe chamá-la do andar de baixo. — venha dar as boas-vindas ao jeno!

você arregalou os olhos ao se ver no espelho. seus cabelos estavam para cima e desgrenhados, parecendo um ninho de passarinhos. gritou um “já vou!” e rapidamente tentou conter a situação. no entanto, de nada adiantou, e você, derrotada, decidiu aceitar que aquele era o melhor que podia fazer. e lá se tinha ido sua chance de causar uma boa primeira impressão para quem poderia ser seu futuro marido, como nos livros de amor que tinha lido.

desceu as escadas timidamente, os dedinhos ansiosos brincando com a barra do vestido. os olhos brilharam quando encontraram o homem novamente, podendo captar ainda mais seus detalhes. notou os olhos pequenos e maduros, o nariz grande e bem projetado, o corpo robusto e como aquela blusa social com alguns botões abertos caía bem no torso masculino. nunca havia visto nada igual, e aquilo te esquentou nas bochechas e no meio das pernas. o ventre fisgou e o coração apertou, talvez apaixonado.

— aí está você, querida! — seu pai saltou de alegria assim que te viu. — quero que conheça minha filha, meu tesouro mais precioso. é uma menina de ouro.

você se aproximou envergonhada, os dedinhos ainda brincando com a barra do vestido. jeno não pôde deixar de notar seu nervosismo, e achava aquilo adorável. seus próprios olhos foram agraciados assim que te viram, a figura frágil e de traços delicados que vinha lentamente até ele naquele momento. você era encantadora.

tentou desviar o olhar de seu corpo, tinha receio de analisá-la por tempo demais e as consequências que isso traria. mas estava completamente hipnotizado pela beleza a sua frente.

soltou uma risada curta e amigável, estendendo a mão para cumprimentá-la. os pensamentos foram longe novamente quando sentiu a maciez da tua mão, apertando a dele de forma tão sútil e angelical.

— é um prazer conhecê-la. — te encarou com um sorriso que fez o coração errar uma batida. — é realmente uma menina de ouro. — concordou com o seu pai, que deu dois tapinhas em suas costas sem nem se dar conta do quão carregadas de malícia as palavras do lee eram. — nós vamos nos dar muito bem.

e, por algum motivo, você sentiu suas bochechas esquentarem ainda mais e o calor no meio das pernas aumentar.

— agora vá mostrar o quarto onde jeno irá ficar, querida. — sua mãe a incentivou e tudo o que fez foi assentir, esperando que o homem a acompanhasse.

subiu as escadas acanhada, deixando um sorriso bobo escapar de seus lábios ao perceber o quão fantástico era ter um homem de tamanha beleza te acompanhando até seu próprio quarto. nos livros e nos filmes, aquele se encaixava como um cenário perfeitamente romântico, e você era, sem dúvidas, a personagem principal. não via a hora de contar a novidade para suas amigas, tinha certeza de que esse viraria o assunto dos próximos meses. é, aquele era seu dia de sorte.

estava tão absorta nos próprios pensamentos que esquecera do quão curto e leve era seu vestido, e que o vento que refrescava a casa seria o suficiente para balançá-lo e dar a exata visão que jeno, atrás de você, ansiava.

assim que seus olhos bateram na calcinha florida e na popa rosadinha da bunda, sentiu as próprias calças apertarem e a boca salivar. antes de se despedir da cena, tentando não ultrapassar o limite, memorizou cada detalhe, e teve de passar o resto do caminho até seu quarto escondendo a pequena ereção no meio das pernas com a mala que carregava.

— tcharam! — disse assim que empurrou a porta, abrindo os braços para causar uma melhor impressão para o quarto meio desarrumado. — esse aqui é o seu novo quarto. sinta-se em casa!

e jeno realmente levou ao pé da letra. jogou-se na cama, cansado pelas horas que passou dirigindo, e depois de um breve “obrigado”, pôs-se a dormir. em menos de três minutos, você ouviu os roncos altos do lee e só pôde suspirar, encantada, mesmo que parecessem como porquinhos famintos.

— é… — concordou consigo. — você vale uma noite de sono mal dormida. — mandou um beijo no ar e piscou, deixando o quarto com o coração disparado.

e depois desse dia, lee jeno e você se tornaram bastante próximos. pode-se dizer bastante próximos mesmo.

era comum, depois de uma longa manhã no escritório de seu pai, ouvindo as explicações e conselhos acadêmicos que o mais velho dava, que jeno escapasse para o seu quarto. lá, juntavam-se na cama e o homem lia suas histórias prediletas, e não se importava em explicar carinhosamente as partes que você não entendia. era atencioso ao fazê-lo, e parecia adorar suas perguntas.

às tardes, iam até belos lagos que você o havia apresentado. seus lugares favoritos naquela pequena cidade. espirravam água um no outro antes de afundar os corpos nas águas geladas, e depois voltavam totalmente molhados para casa.

nos cafés da manhã, embaixo da mesa, seus pés descalços tocavam a calça de alfaiataria do homem. subiam até seu joelho e apertavam ali com os dedos, e às vezes chutavam de leve sua canela. não podia deixar de rir sorrateiramente quando o lee fazia uma careta para você assim que seus sapatos eram pisados por baixo da mesa, ou quando a barra de sua calça era puxada pelos seus dedinhos.

você adorava pedir para que ele te passasse as comidas na mesa do jantar, e amava quando ele te servia. observava o mais velho conversar espontaneamente com seus pais e fazê-los rir de maneira tão natural, e aquilo aumentava ainda mais o calor que sentia entre as pernas.

à noite, quando chovia, arrastava o lee até o pequeno pomar de sua mãe, e dançavam ao som de lady, lady, lady à sua própria canção, mesmo que você cantasse por vezes tão desafinado. ele acabava rindo e você, irritada, mas logo esquecia e ria junto. voltavam pra casa ensopados, abafando as risadas e tentando não acordar a casa inteira.

seus pais não estranhavam sua proximidade. na verdade, gostavam de ver você se dando tão bem com alguém. confiavam cegamente no filho dos lee, e sabiam que ele era um bom rapaz. já estavam concientes de que aquilo aconteceria, afinal, suas idades quase coincidiam.

naquela tarde ensolarada, lee jeno e você estavam em mais um de seus passeios de bicicleta. suas perninhas trabalhavam arduamente para alcançar a velocidade do mais velho, e as coxas se erguiam do banco para pegar mais impulso ainda.

logo você estava na frente do lee, pedalando alegremente pelo pequeno caminho de terra. a barra de seu vestido subia e descia conforme as pedaladas, e revelava a peça rosinha que apertava suas carnes. o tecido do vestido batia na bunda arredondadinha, que estava com a popa avermelhada pelo atrito com o banco da bicicleta.

jeno observava ao longe sua bucetinha ser afundada naquele banco, que ajudava a socar ainda mais o pano da calcinha na fendinha. você se mexia inquieta. gostava da sensação. inconscientemente, esfregava seu pontinho na ponta do banco, o quadril subindo e descendo conforme pisava no pedal.

freou quando avistou um persegueiro, descendo da bicicleta. jeno te acompanhou, curioso. você ficou na ponta dos pés, esticando o braço para pegar o pêssego mais rosado que havia encontrado. o vestido novamente subiu, e o lee se deleitou ao te ver tão focada e com um biquinho nos lábios avermelhados. saiu de seu próprio palácio mental e alcançou o fruto para você, que logo foi se sentar contente ao pé da árvore.

jeno sentou-se ao seu lado, observando você levar o pêssego aos lábios. uma mordida suculenta acertou a fruta, e os olhos do lee vidraram no suco escorrendo pelo cantos de seus lábios. inocentemente, você levou o pêssego até a boca dele, esperando que saboreasse do mesmo jeito.

no entanto, o lee não o fez. pegou a fruta de sua mão e cravou dois dedos nela. o líquido açucarado pingou por seu colo, trilhando pelo pequeno decote do vestido. puxou o tecido para baixo, num movimento ágil. estava sedento para ver o que você escondia debaixo de todo aquele pano. só para ele.

as pupilas dilataram quando seus peitinhos saltaram para fora da peça. faminto, o lee apalpou as mamas macias, juntando e apertando com as mãos grandes. perfurou ainda mais o pêssego com os dedos, fazendo o suco escorrer por toda a área. melecou as auréolas e rodeou os biquinhos, esfregando a própria fruta ali. queria te deixar com o mesmo gostinho. a boca salivou e jeno não pôde evitar soborear aquela fruta de maneira diferente.

naquele verão, você descobriu que o motivo pelo qual estava calor não era apenas a estação.

[honeysugarchocolate]

untied shoelace boyhood

kiribakutodo, summer romance.

it's 1983. somewhere in northern italy.

eijiro likes to imagine that katsuki, shouto and him think about each other at the same time; the three of them reside in the fourth dimension a few quasi miles apart. katsuki, perhaps making vanilla panna cotta. shouto, perhaps grazing a dandelion against the back of his wrist, while eijiro watches. possibly the reverse.

thier romance is a constituent of adoration and sapphic summer serenity. eijiro takes ten photographs of katsuki’s elbow because it looks so serene under the grass. shouto persuades him to accommodate an ant on his wrist and memorize its track. shouto and katsuki are so lulled by the feeling of that grass, ventriloquized by the wind against their skin, that they don't notice the landing of a bee on their interlocked ankles. it looks comfortable for the ten seconds that it rests and it's somehow the most natural scene eijiro’s ever witnessed. so he says nothing.

sticky peace juice on their fingers. ice-cream cones left to melt on the asphalt. windows flung wide open. laundry billowing on the clothesline. an orchard of apricot trees. the chime of sea breeze through the leaves. the river simmering with heat-haze. days unravel in reverse.

in this lifetime, it starts raining when shouto and katsuki call eijiro by his name. in the next, the world stops breathing as he watches them kiss. in another, the three of them jump into the lake at dawn and never come up for air.

[fredficaccount]

MARCH FIC RECAP

I read 32 fics in march and reread 1.

From several fandoms : larry, rwrb, tarlos, drarry, athelnar, cmbyn, sterek, obikin.

As always, I'm infinitely grateful to all the authors for their gifts and to AO3 for being this space for sharing.

Apart from my re-reading, which I'll talk about at the end of this post, I particularly enjoyed 6 of these fics.

***

2 Larry :

Landslide, by @aimmyarrowshighaes, spibsy (lucy_and_ramona)

Explicit, 143k words, completed 2014-02-19

Historical AU, 70s AU, Strangers to lovers

Summary

The year is 1976. In November, Jimmy Carter will take control of the White House. Americans are meeting Laverne & Shirley at their apartment in Milwaukee. Hotel California diverges from the reign of Kool & the Gang. And the FBI is still reeling from the repercussions of Watergate, the tragedy at Wounded Knee, Operation Family Secrets, and the strategic terrors of the anti-cult movement.

That's what Special Agent Harry Styles has been told is the basis of his mission to an abandoned farmhouse in rural New Hampshire.

With his hair grown out long and his shirt untucked, he's going undercover to do reconnaissance on suspected cult leader Louis Tomlinson, who has led a group of people out into the middle of nowhere, leaving no record of the life he'd had before. All Harry knows is what the agency gave him: Tomlinson's name, and instructions to figure out what he's doing with the eleven people he brought with him.

In the year that Harry spends undercover and under Louis Tomlinson's wing, he learns more than he ever expected.

What I liked :

This story is perfect : masterful scenario, well crafted characters, and a very special and absolutely unique atmosphere, all to achieve about how a remote place can help you find in someone the home you were looking for...

@louisbumpenguin did this superb cover :

With blood and soft stitches, by @bravestyles

Not Rated, 57k words, completed 2020-07-30

Established relationships, suicide attempt, hurt/comfort

Summary :

After a failed suicide attempt and a three month long coma, Harry wakes up.

What I liked :

Suicide, depression… It's not an easy subject… And yet the author comes up with a story that is all sensitivity and emotion. They describe perfectly what it's like to go wrong, even when you love your husband, even when, from the outside, everything seems to be going well. The distress of Louis, the husband who almost lost his love, is also palpable and poignant.

Both characters are amazing, and it's literally impossible not to fall in love with Louis, who reminds me TTS Louis, a marvel of solidity and devotion to his other half.

***

2 Drarry :

Life lessons, by @bixgirl1

Explicit, 68k words, completed 2019-06-04

Enemies to friends to lovers

Fic post

Summary :

On the cusp of a promotion, Harry needs a little help with his image. Enter Draco Malfoy — who doesn't really do that, Potter — to whip him into shape… and make him feel things he hasn't for a very long time.

Featuring: odd jobs, surprising chemistry, lots of accidental kissing, the Prophet living up to type, owls exhausted by the carrying of dirty letters, a secret no one can talk about, a merry band of Slytherins (none of whom really approve), and an enchanted mirror (who really, really does).

What I liked

This is another one of those drarry fics where I fall in love with both characters and their stories, each so different yet so compatible.

The Cabin Trip, by @gallifrey1sburning

Explicit, 23k words, completed 2021-02-22

Friends to lovers, Sharing a bed, Pining

Fic post

Summary :

When Harry decides to swap his house in London for a cabin in the Catskill Mountains for a week, he’s excited for the chance to take a vacation with a group of his closest friends. He’s positive that his long-standing crush on Draco won’t be a problem; he’s been handling it just fine for years, after all. Unfortunately, he wasn’t counting on those tiny swim trunks. Or the way Draco licks melted chocolate off his fingers. Or having to rescue him from a rogue shower. And he definitely wasn’t counting on Draco deciding to sleep in Harry’s bed. But it’s going to be fine. Right?

Featuring: gender fuckery fashion icon Blaise Zabini, Greg Goyle as “the dad friend,” Luna Lovegood petting wild animals that she absolutely should not be petting, and Harry and Draco not being nearly as subtle as they think they are.

What I Liked :

This fic is a sort of grand epilogue, set against the backdrop of a beautiful cabin in the Canadian woods, with a lake, obviously a shared bed, pining and a great bunch of friends. A lovely serotonin moment. I could have gone on for pages and pages.

***

1 Tarlos :

No rules in breakable heaven, by @strandnreyes

Explicit, 75k words, completeted 2023-07-27

Private chef AU, friends with benefits

Fic post

Summary

Carlos doesn't know what to expect when he takes a position as a private chef in the Hamptons for the summer. All he knows is that he needs a job, and one that puts a roof over his head, gives him a chance to practice his craft, and will look great on his CV is more than he could ask for. Turns out he has no idea what he’s in for.

What I liked :

I sincerely hope that the author continues to write for a long time to come, because every time, it's a joy to read. Carlos and TK are beautiful, moving and touching, no matter what reality they find themselves in, and this AU private chef is no exception.

***

1 Athelnar (Vikings) :

Uppsalir, by @gwylliondream

Mature, 66k words, completed 2019-02-01

Strangers (Or Enemies ?) to lovers, slow burn

Fic post (kind of)

Summary :

In the raid at Lindisfarne, Ragnar takes a blow to the head and is knocked unconscious. Thinking Ragnar is dead, his kinsmen leave him behind on the beach. When Ragnar awakens, he suffers from amnesia. He cannot remember why he sailed west, or what transpired at the monastery. Athelstan discovers his bruised body on the shore, and they embark on an adventure that challenges their faiths, their lives, and their love.

What I liked :

Years ago, I was really into the Vikings series. And all my interest collapsed when Athelstan died (I don't suppose I'm spoiling anything for anyone?), because G. Blagden was due to join the Versailles series. Here we are in 2024, I'm discovering Uppsalir on AO3 and omg it's a gem! It's a shame that such perfections don't have more readers, for lack of a more popular fandom…

***

My monthly reread :

We cant take the long road home, by @pinkcords

larry fic

Explicit, 45k words, completed 2020-07-09

Road trip AU, strangers to lovers, pining

Fic post

Summary

Late afternoon seeps into the cab, just shy of too warm, and the breeze that crosses window to window tosses their hair in their eyes, around their faces. They ride in pleasant silence, the radio humming softly in the background as they speed down the coast, and when Louis looks over, Harry’s smiling to himself, a private happiness born from whatever’s going on in his head. Louis likes to think it has something to do with him, or at the very least, this adventure they’ve embarked on together, chosen to see through to San Diego.

Or, Harry and Louis fall in love down the coast of California.

What I liked :

I finished March by rereading this fic after watching a TV documentary about the Seattle area with my mum (Easter weekend). This is the third time I've reread it, and the third time I've loved it! It's got some of my favourite ingredients: road trip, pining, a lonely character whose heart gradually opens up, beautiful landscapes, pining, emotion… Really, We can take the long road home is one of my all time favourite fics.

What's more, there's a lighthouse and a sea glass found on a beach…

[scottsumrners]

Who would you rather date a Swiftie that thinks Swift is gay, a Disney Adult who goes broke to go on vacation yearly or a dude who listen to Lana del Rey and says that CMBYN is his favorite movie

can't i just kill myself in this scenario?

[dykefever]

hihihi !!!! i unrecomend women, eating by claire kohda; it couldve been so cool but like wasnt creepy enough and really bland for a vampire eating people thing. MC also had like no personality and just kinda lame.

also (!!!!) i unrecomend call me by your name; this is the rare scenario where i preferred the movie over the book and i just dont get the hype. <3333

hi hi!! i haven't heard of women, eating but if you're writing a book with that premise and it's not as freaky as possible then well.... boring!

i've read cmbyn and i would agree!! i think the book is fine but i wasn't incredibly moved by it - there's some good quotes etc but the film was spectacular in my opinion and all the characters felt very real and were really brought to life, the cinematography was gorgeous etc.

[joanandshin]

request rules:

updated: 04/14/2021

who we'll write for:

call me by your name

zodiacs

my hero academia

harry potter

naruto

writing formats:

headcanons

scenarios

drabbles

fake quotes

ART

update schedule:

hmm, upload schedule never heard of one

unrequested? whenever we think of ideas

we will post in EST timezone

requests will stay open until we have enough to be very busy! :D

things/characters we won't write:

extreme abuse

nsfw (for now, at least :P)

yandere

mha: mineta, endeavor, all might

harry potter: those weird side characters that have basically no information to base stuff off of

[malewifedejun]

hendery || love my way

[jeffersonhairpin]

Black Lives Matter protest in Brisbane - on par with the School Strike 4 Climate protest in numbers and enthusiasm... the younger generation are being introduced to regular protest as a part of normal democracy with these recent events, and I hope it only builds from here ❤️

✊🏻✊🏼✊🏽✊🏾✊🏿

[joverflowers]

Oh, will wonders ever cease? Blessed be the mystery of love

[hiraya-rawr]

Call Me By My Name (Zhongli SAGAU Drabble)

synopsis: you didn't want acolytes, you wanted friends. you reveal this on a vulnerable night to zhongli.

contains: sfw intimacy; comfort; touch-starved characters?; maybe angst; platonic but can be romantic cuddling

note: inspired by CMBYN film (a beautiful work of art!!) btw read Zhongli's character stories, they add a bit of angst to this hehehe

"Not once have I ever considered myself your god." You mutter, hands gripping onto the front of his dress shirt. Zhongli stood before you as you sat on your bed.

The man had knocked on the entrance of your chambers to ask how you were faring just a little after the last candles of the night were blown out. Under the guise of only moonlight, you sat by the open window and told him you were doing fine.

Except, it wasn't fine.

To suddenly die in your first life and transmigrate to a world you once thought was simply a game was hard to accept.

It's been months now: you formed bonds, traveled Teyvat, and dealt with the whole "you are our divine god and we are your loyal acolytes" scenario. Most days, it was easy to drown in the euphoria of the new and exciting world; but during the night, it was harder to come to terms with experiencing death.

You were the one who died yet it seemed like everyone in your past life died without you. Leaving you in a place so strange and magical, you still wonder if this was a dream, a hallucination, a brain issue.

Zhongli picks up these cues quite easily. He's been around for more than 6,000 years after all. He lingers by the doorway, face contorted with slight concern as you tell him that you really are okay.

He steps closer to ask if you'd like some tea before bed. You shake your head no.

He takes a robe from an ottoman, telling you that you'll get cold sitting by the window. You say it's fine, you're not cold., but your body betrays you and shiver at the gust of wind. Zhongli doesn't hesitate to place the robe over your shoulders.

"How about we get you to bed, divine monarch?" You frown at the title.

"I thought we agreed you can call me Y/n? At least, when we're alone?" You tell him, arms slowly wrapping around his neck as he carries you to your bed bridal style.

"Alright... Y/n," He hesitates to say it as if it were blasphemy for someone like him to speak of something so divine.

"Say it again," You push. He places you down gently on your bed only to pause when your arms tighten around his neck, refusing to let go. His skin on yours felt so warm. Your chin was on his shoulder, your ear next to his lips: you want to hear him say it so close to you.

"...Y/n," There's hesitation, you note, as you kept your grip on him. He puts one knee down on the mattress to steady himself, his arms deciding to wrap around your waist. He really shouldn't be on the bed of the divine one but you're as stubborn as you are human.

"Again."

"Y/n." You smile — it just sounds so so sweet when he says it directly. He parts his face from your shoulder to look you in the eyes with his honey dripped ones.

"Again."

"Y/n."

You pull him down with you on the bed with a light chuckle, arms making their way around him and face to nuzzle in his chest — to be held so lovingly like this was almost healing. He was warm and comforting, nothing like the stiff and formal gestures of those you meet in the morning. Even then, mortals dare not touch you in anyway since your ascension to your title.

Perhaps it was the silence that wafted over you two, or the feel of your warmth on his body that snapped him back to reality.

To lie next to the divine monarch — sure he's grown quite comfortable with your presence, he's carried you multiple times and warmed you with his hands whenever you so much as ask — but to be in such an intimate setting with someone he revered so much felt...

"Zhongli?" Your voice breaks his thoughts, seeing him zoning out. He sits up straight, arms untangling from you before sitting on the edge of the bed.

"You should rest now... Y/n," He fixes his dress shirt, giving you a kind smile as he stands up. Had this happened a few months ago, he'd be apologizing profusely for letting his desires to hold you overtake him; even when you'd reassure him it's okay.

Your eyebrows furrow as you sit up, "Won't you stay for a bit?" It comes out almost like a plea. His eyes meet yours but he quickly averts them away.

"I wouldn't wish to disturb your night any m-"

"You're not disturbing, I'm sure you know that."

"It's getting quite late-"

"So stay the night?"

"You need to rest, your holiness." and it slips past his slips as you pause in your reply.

"... It's Y/n," You say looking down on your hands. He wasn't making eye contact with you anyway.

"...Y/n, I shouldn't-" He sighs, there's a feeling of defeat but he doesn't quite understand why, "I shouldn't rest next to y-"

"This life is lonely, Zhongli," You say, crawling closer to the end of the bed, "Surely you understand that? As a God?"

He freezes, eyes back on your eyes. As the oldest of all the archons, the god of contracts, god of war, god of commerce, god of history, the warrior god, Morax, Rex Lapis, the prime adepti — surely, he must understand loneliness, right?

Which lead to this situation with the former Geo Archon.

"Not once have I ever considered myself your god." You mutter, hands gripping onto the front of his dress shirt as you hid away from his gaze. Zhongli stood before you as you sat on your bed.

"I want a friend, Zhongli, please."

He reaches for your hands on his shirt, making you release your hold. He intertwines his fingers with yours in replacement. He kneels back down on the bed to be eye level with you, a melancholy look in his eyes but a small smile on his lips.

The night is quiet save for the two of you in your bedroom; under the covers, his arms wrapped tightly around your waist, your hands in his. There's light shuffles of blankets and hushed whispers of hopes and dreams and lands far away. His voice lulls you to sleep.

—

"This isn't fair! I want to sleep with their holiness too!" A harsh whisper wakes you. The sun is shining through the windows and the birds are chirping, you turn to your side to see a certain green bard pouting at Zhongli.

"You'll wake their holiness by barging in he-" Zhongli stops to see you sitting up on the bed. He sighs, "It seems that they're awake now." He sighs, rubbing his temples before a thought caused a glimmer in his eyes.

"How was your rest, Y/n?" There's a sly smirk on the geo user's face as he says your name. The god of wind stares at him, mouth agape.

"This isn't fair at all! You get to sleep with them and call them by their name? I want that as well!" Venti groans, glaring at the taller man and turning to you with puppy eyes.

"Sleeping? I- I also wish to sleep with their holiness!" Ei pops up from the doorway, face with a light blush, "If they allow it, of course-"

"You're both causing such a ruckus in the morning," Zhongli scolds.

You looked on at the three archons as they began to bicker, a wide grin growing on your face. They turn their attention to you and you laugh.

"Yay! A sleepover tonight!"

"A what?"

navigation

note: yes zhongli is my comfort character :> diluc may be my fiery love, but zhongli feels like home.

also, i changed the title to divine monarch since your grace sounds a bit odd, it's a ducal title so :// i like "your holiness" or "divine monarch" a lot more :D

[gayerthanevertbh]

songbird

pairings | scarlett johansson x fem!reader

summary | you fell in love with your father’s best friend throughout the summer in spain until she breaks your heart as well.

warnings | smut/angst themes - 18+ MINORS DNI. heavy angst, slight fluff, explicit language, first time sex, rough kissing, sex in public (sort of), age difference, and more.

word count | 7.0k

notes | this is a completely different turn bc i thought it was like cmbyn but it’s really not? i hope you still enjoy this angsty one-shot lol x

navigation. 

When I was a kid, I used to remember that I was sort of a hopeless romantic. I’d fall for anyone who would treat me with tenderness and kindness and the next thing you know it is that they would leave you and yet you would still feel that I’ll find my true love kind of scenario when honestly that’s never going to happen. You could say that I’m a negative person, I think wholeheartedly I am one. Although you can’t blame me if you’ve been in love with a person for so long that you might as well think you’re delusional. I think I’m still in love, I do deeply think and feel her love for me. But what she did was no excuse, I try to repeat that to myself every day since she doesn’t deserve an ounce of my forgiveness. I can never forget her stupid blonde hair and her green eyes, especially her tattoos that got me so annoyed because they were all over her body. Well, I’m sort of exaggerating there.

I hate her, I want to hate her. Oh, I love her. I love her so much that I’d kill myself for her, that I’d hurt myself for her so that she could notice me all over again. I wanted her to look at me and touch my skin, make me feel alive again. I still remember her deeply strained voice that calls out my name each time we make love, how she would tell me that she was immensely in love with me and that the next summer we would run away together.

We never ran away together, we never held our hands together in public. We never did that stuff.

                                                     2020.

I was casually reading my book on my chair with my feet prompted on the table when I heard loud laughing voices from downstairs. They sound feminine, familiar, and intimidating. I quirked an eyebrow and threw a cardigan all over my upper body to see what was going on. Usually, it’s quiet in our house–it’s a big house to be fair, that’s why there were no loud sounds most of the time except for my record player. I closed my door behind me and treaded myself down to the main floor when I saw a tall figure man with a woman beside him. I realized it was Chris and Scarlett that came by to our villa, as my dad teased.

“Y/N, why don’t you say hello to our guests?” my dad calls me as he makes his hand a motion for me to come forward and say hi to them. I gave them a quick smile before hugging Chris tightly, being comforted by large arms and a thick beard that was itching on my cheek; it didn’t feel nice no offense. I pulled away and was surprised when Scarlett gave me the initial hug, god she felt nice around me. Her arms and her chin on my shoulder felt a little too homey for me, I almost thought that it wasn’t that awkward.

“You’re all grown up,” says Scarlett with a huge smile on her face, her teeth pearling nicely. “Weren’t you just a baby the last time I saw you?”

“I think I was fifteen,” I corrected her politely as she shrugged her shoulder; her smile never faded away but then it got smaller. I added, “You look very nice. I’m happy that you’re here.”

“Oh, I’m happy myself as well Y/N,” she responded while squeezing both of my hands with her soft ones. Her thumb caressed the back of my hand, it felt too nice for my liking. “You look very pretty if I may add, does that bother you?”

“No, it doesn’t,” I say truthfully–maybe I was being honest. I did like how she called me pretty, like it felt so casual, too casual. She smiles again and I decided to bring them upstairs since I insisted. The house was big, but the rooms were mostly occupied with our storage. The good thing was there were two rooms left and that I showed them the first room, assuming that they were together. But Chris quickly dismissed that, he said with a laugh: “Oh me and Scarlett are not a thing, I don’t think I’m her type at all.”

“Oh?” I asked with a scrunched look on my face while I set up the first room by opening the curtains to feel more of the air outside. I hear Scarlett responding: “Yeah, Chris is definitely not my type. We’re just best friends.”

Now, I was genuinely curious at how Chris wasn’t Scarlett’s type. The man was a tall, quirky, and very lovable person. He looked like a lovable kind of guy where you could fall in love with him with a bat on an eye–at least that’s how I think. But Scarlett seemed to be not interested, which was a little confusing.

Unless she’s a homosexual like me.

That couldn’t be true, she has dated men in the past. I know that because she’s an A-list Actress, of course, I’d see her on the news and in articles on the internet. So it was impossible for her to like women, right? I was just assuming yet again, I always assume things.

When Chris decided he’ll take the first room, I showed them the second room to see if she ended up liking it. It was small but not in a cramming way, you could still walk and do many activities in the room. There was a vanity table near the door and a bed beside the balcony area; a long bookshelf on the right side of the room.

“You could take my room if this is too small for you,” I offered. My room was bigger than this one, so I had to check if she liked it. “I mean, this room is quite big if you remove the bookshelf. Other than that, you could take mine if that’s what you prefer.”

She shakes her head and sits on the edge of the mattress with her hands planted on each side of her thighs. I heard her say, “No, I think I like it here. Thanks for the offer though, Y/N.”

Why did I assume that she knows the inside of my room? Silly and poor me, I was being delusional once again. I smiled at her for one last time before heading toward the door to give her some space. Before I even closed it, I heard her asking: “I’ll see you at dinner?”

I nodded with a duh look and responded quickly with the heat overtaking my body. “Yeah, you will. Have a good time, Scarlett.”

I’ll see you at dinner. What does that mean? Was she being friendly? Flirtatious, perhaps? No, I can’t think that she was flirting with me, that would be too much. Besides, she probably has no interest in younger people. Or even me if I had to include myself, which began me to think that I might have a slight infatuation with her. I shrugged it off and walked back to my room where I continue to read the book that doesn’t make sense to me, just for me to be distracted from my interaction with Scarlett.

It’s just some silly crush, nothing more.

Until it wasn’t, it has become an obsession of mine once we had dinner that night. I was sitting beside her and whenever we would have a conversation about moving to new places and all that, I could feel her elbow brushing against my skin without her eyes looking at me. Of course, I noticed that. We were sitting so close to each other that you might as well think we are a couple. I tried to shake it off and continue to eat my soup, but I was so focused on her elbow that it was the only thing I thought about the whole night. She would occasionally ask me if I was going to college, and I’d tell her that I was applying to two universities. I remember her saying: good luck, I know you’re a smart girl and I might take that as a literal sense when she told that to me. I will never forget it.

I kept writing her name on my notebook that evening, cursing myself when I remembered how she smiled at me, how she touched my hands that felt so innocent but with intention. We were the same height, but she could be a few meters taller. I wanted her to do something about this or even tell her that I’m having a strange crush on her that felt so surreal. Would she laugh at it? I was probably just a kid in her eyes. I had no chance, I had no hope.

Eventually, I fell asleep that night and woke up without even thinking about her.

                                                        —

While I was at the small coffee shop, I saw something so familiar that would’ve wrecked me if I stared more. Instead, I stared a lot. Scarlett was with this girl but they weren’t holding hands or anything intimate, they were just casually walking along the sidewalks. I was far from sight but I could feel the jealousy creeping up on me like a virus. Was it her friend? How did she make friends here so fast? I had a lot of questions in my head that needed to be answered but instead, I looked down at my plate and continued to eat my sandwich with an iced coffee that the barista gave a few minutes ago.

I walked to the nearby bookstore and grabbed and searched for new stories that I wanted to read, maybe I should read something philosophical. Or maybe something about murder so that I could be prepared. I realized how creepy that sounded and decided to buy another book from Sylvia Plath. When I finally made my purchase, I turned around to see Scarlett standing a few feet away from me with sunglasses that covered her bright green eyes. I was startled–even almost fell from the ground–but I stood there and gave her a quick smile.

“I didn’t know you were stalking me.” I joked, laughing but realized I was doing that with myself. But then she laughs and takes off her glasses, I could finally see her beautiful eyes. She wore a long floral dress that matched her khaki hat that looked like Yankees. She had few necklaces on her and now it felt like I was sort of taller than her. But she was still a few meters taller than me.

“Who said I was?”

“Well because you’re in the same bookstore with me.”

“You sound like you don’t want me here,” she stated with her mouth twitching with a smirk. I could’ve sworn I almost died from that look she gave me. “I was finding an antic store until I saw you here, I wanted to say hi.”

“Oh,” I breathed out and licked my lips together–not really knowing why I did that for. There was a short pause before I added, “Hello to you too, I guess.”

“Now I’m convinced you don’t want me here.”

It was probably how I spoke to her or the way my posture was. I was surprised and thought about how I should reply so that she gets to stay and maybe walk with me home, but I felt like a prude in front of her. Now she’s probably going to talk to me for the rest of the summer because of my response. I sighed and shook my head solemnly to disagree with her assumptions.

“Sorry, I was just surprised that you’re here,” I answered, she quirks her eyebrow in confusion. “Like–I mean, well you kind of scare me.”

“Ha-ha,” she faux a laugh and places a hand on her chest as if she was laughing very hard. “Come on, why don’t you bring me to this antic store? You’re an expert with tourism, right?”

She must’ve implied of me showing her around the house almost a week ago, and I chuckled softly because of it. She was witty and knows how to charm you–which is in fact true. Scarlett was a very charming person with a calming personality, probably also the kindest woman you’ll ever meet. But those were the fans that say about her on the internet, she is nice. But she can be a pain in the ass. I remember this one afternoon when I was taking a swim and all so suddenly she throws an untouched apple on the ground, never looking back. You could consider that an accident, but I saw it as if she was littering. I picked it up and it felt soft on my hand, perhaps it was so soft because of the heat of the sun. Anyway, I remember placing it in the basket and wanted her to know that she shouldn’t do that a lot.

“I don’t want to be your personal tour guide.”

“Ouch,” she fakes a hurt look on her face as she readjusts the cap on her head. Now, she was standing in front of me and I realize how close we are–how our face is almost three inches away from each other. “Come on, sweetheart. I’ll buy us ice cream along the way.”

My heart starts to flutter with the pet name that she gave me. Sweetheart. God, my legs are about to tremble from the way she says it with her soft sultry voice that you’re convinced that she was flirting with you. She probably wasn’t, maybe that was her being nice. I nodded and walked alongside her quietly. I would listen to her as she tells me about her new movie that she’ll be in, teasing me to keep it a secret. Of course, I would keep it a secret. I wasn’t that kind of person who would disobey someone, let alone myself disobeying Scarlett–which I did not want. I brought her to the antic store and I watch her dreamily as she buys loads of stuff from the store, keeping the store owner happy. God, she was so happy to see an actress buying her shop. I mean, I’d be happy too if someone would buy a lot of objects from my store.

Scarlett and I continued to walk back to the house, our feet treading onto the soft gravel as the sun is about to set down slowly. I was holding the ice cream in my hand that she bought for me and she was licking hers while her eyes were all over the place. It’s like she has never been to Spain before, specifically Oviedo where they are all staying at the moment. Maybe she has never been to any cities in Spain, only Madrid.

“Have you ever dated someone?” I asked Scarlett with curiosity in her voice; I cringed from her question that I almost dropped my ice cream.

“N-no,” I say with a stutter, cursing myself inwardly at how stupid I sound. “I did have a short fling with someone though.”

“Nothing is called a short fling, little one.”

“Why are you calling me that?” I asked, trying to change the subject–but also curious on why she called me a little one. Did she see me as a child? I was starting to get annoyed when that nickname started to swirl all over my head relentlessly. She just laughs and shakes her head, muttering something that I don’t understand.

“Because you are little.” she stated, as a matter of a fact. I was not, we were literally of the same height–practically the same!

“I’m not,” I grumbled down my breath and I was jotting out my lower lip like a baby. She looks at me then laughs again, god her stupid laugh makes my lower stomach flutter with affection.

“Anyway, nothing is called a short fling. It’s either you were in love or it was nothing, there’s no such thing as a fling.”

“You sound so sure about that.”

“Because I am,” she responded as she ate the edge of her cone. “Come on, tell me about this story.”

“It was this girl from my school and we were sort of crushing each other,” I tell her with a shrug of my shoulders. “Well, we were. Until she liked this boy named Tom and I broke up with her. Or at least you can say it was a breakup, we had no labels.”

“You children these days,” she chuckles and I felt her knuckles brushing against the back of my hand. I realized how utterly close we were and somehow I wanted her to hold my hand and bring it to her lips, kissing it–

“There you guys are! I was starting to worry for both of you.”

We both turned and saw Chris and my mother walking toward us. Suddenly, Scarlett kept her distance and walked to my mother to give her a small peck on the cheek–of course in a friendly matter. I felt my body deflating when she walked away from me; her knuckle was no longer touching mine. I walked back to the house alone, locked myself in, and listened to some angsty songs that I don’t normally play. But right now, it felt like a mood to play it from my record player.

                                                       —

Do you like me? I wrote down in my journal viciously like a barbaric person. Tell me, shout at me, do you like me? Can you please just tell me that you do? I sounded desperate to know if she did, maybe not in the same way as mine but at least as friends. Do I want to be friends with her? No, maybe. I don’t even know at this point. Sometimes I think that my infatuation with Scarlett has become ridiculous like it’s becoming a joke to me and my head. But I can’t stop thinking about her whenever she gives me small gestures that mean nothing. I want to rip myself in half, I want her to look at me and kiss me on the lips despite the consequences that are going to occur. I wanted her to be passionate about me, I wanted her to chase me.

God, I do sound desperate.

It was the second week of July and we were all supposed to go swimming at my father’s private resort. But Scarlett decided that she’ll stay at home since she didn’t feel like she was interested in swimming. And as stupid as I was, I told my father that I’ll stay too.

“Why? You like swimming–”

“Not right now,” I cut him off with a nervous smile as I leaned my back against the chair, playing with the strand of cloth from my shorts. “I don’t feel very well.”

“I guess it’s just me, your mom, and Chris for today.” he laughed and continued to talk about the structures from the main city where they should visit soon. I was not interested in their conversation. I hoped that my father won’t figure out that I have an infatuation with Scarlett, so I just kept my mouth shut and continued to eat my bagel with cream cheese on it.

After that long breakfast, I was sitting alone under a tree to listen to my music and read a poetry book by Emily Dickinson. Our house had a huge garden that almost looked like a forest, so I stayed there for almost thirty minutes. I was so enticed by my book that I didn’t realize Scarlett was approaching me with her hands in the pocket of her shorts. I quickly looked away and pretended that I was still reading my book.

“You were staring,” she stated and sat down beside me and took one of my tapes to the ground. I groaned and tried to take it from her hand, but she was teasing me. God, why am I infatuated with this woman? If I wasn’t, she would be a menace to me. “Fiona Apple? You have good taste.”

I dropped my book on the ground and put the earbud from my headset back to my ear, trying to think of something else other than her. She was so close to me, our hips were sort of touching at this point. I tried not to mind it but god–she was too close that I was about to suffocate. We sat there in silence, admiring the view of the house that pleased Scarlett’s eyes.

“I know something that you don’t know,” Scarlett quirked, looking to the side of her shoulder to give me a quick wink–the constant fluttering in my stomach starts to act up like a piece of machinery. I gulped and felt my throat very dry as I thought about what she was trying to imply.

“What do you mean?”

“You stayed here because you wanted to spend time with me.”

Most of it was true, and none of it was false. I tried to hide my cheeks away as I was blushing a little too hard, but she was laughing–not in mockery, but in a fond way. Or at least that’s how I think. She pulled my cheek and our eyes made contact. God, we were so close to kissing one another but I was afraid enough to do the first move. I felt her thumb caressing up and down on my cheek as I try to think of something else other than those stupid soft lips that I want to feel. She could possibly know how desperate I was.

“You’re really beautiful when I could see you so close,” her voice starts to strain as her nose touches mine. I was, sure enough, that she’ll press her lips against mine but instead, I felt her warm breath on my lips. I moaned very quietly that you can barely hear it and she whispered, “I want to know if you want this.”

“If I want what?” I know I was teasing, and I was doing it with so much intention. I wanted to see if she was as desperate as me and if she truly wanted me. I opened my mouth and let her breathe into me, to let her control me whenever she would like to. She blows slowly into my mouth and then so suddenly–our lips connected. I felt both of her hands under my jaw as she gives more feelings into our kiss, I was in oblivion. I wanted to pull away since I felt like it was too surreal, but she kissed me well. And if I was being lame, this was my first kiss.

Scarlett pulls away with the sound of our lips pulling away and whimpers, “You know we can’t do this.”

I already knew that. I responded with a convincing tone, “No one has to know about us.”

“It’s not that,” she takes a gulp and holds my neck close while peppering kisses all over my face. My eyes, my cheeks, my nose, and my forehead. She kisses my lips again but this time I could tell she was desperate for it, she wanted to feel me. Then she says, “I’m–oh fuck it, I really like you.”

I don’t know if she’ll ever continue what she has said, but neither did I care. I let her kiss me passionately, her tongue sliding itself into my mouth. She was so gentle with my mouth as well as my body that I felt like I was treated with care. No one has ever kissed me the way she does, nor even touched me like she does. Our kiss felt so poetical, something so peaceful and unrealistic. I let her other hand roam on my stomach until she cups my core softly. I grip her blonde hair with my hands as she palms my core, finding my clothed clit to make my body electrify with her touch.

“I want you,” she breathes as she gives me one more deep kiss before she whispers hotly: “I want to kiss your body, your breasts, and your cunt. I want all of you, so fucking bad that I think I might be going insane.”

“Then do it,” I said with a quiet moan coming out of my trembling mouth. Scarlett looks at me with her hooded eyes as she slips her finger into my shorts, feeling my wet panties. I was embarrassed by how wet I was–she could see that and even chuckled deeply when she felt it. “Scarlett, please–”

“I’ll take good care of you,” she assures me as I feel more of her kisses on my neck–then to my chest, and continued to massage my covered cunt with her bare fingers. “I promise I will. I won’t hurt you, baby.”

Scarlett touched my clit for the first time and all I could remember doing was staying quiet while biting my lower lip, trying not to whimper so loud that anyone could hear our actions. She gives open-mouth kisses on my neck while finding my hole with two of her fingers, she sighed into my mouth when she felt my wet folds that made contact with her skin. I was holding her face while she was kissing me with her eyes averted to my shorts; her fingers making circular motions onto my welt open folds.

“Push them inside of me,” I begged as my eyes rolled back to my head when I heard her groaning from my ear. “Scarlett, please push your fingers inside of me–I can take it…”

She pushed in and I gasped loudly, the feeling of irritation and tightness was profound yet it was painful that her fingers were only half inside of me. She continues to kiss me on the corner of my mouth, saying: “It’s okay, you’re okay baby. Is this okay? Am I hurting you?”

I shook my head in response and replied with a mewl, “You’re not hurting me–Oh god, I promise you aren’t. Keep pushing them in, Scar. Please, I need you.”

“As you wish, my love.”

Scarlett spent her time trying to loosen me up so that she could thrust inside of me swiftly without hurting me. She kissed my neck, chest, and lips to keep me away from the pain–and it worked. Once I was used to her fingers, she starts to thrust in and out of me with her eyebrows scrunching; letting out each grunt as she keeps pounding me with her fingers. Her mouth was on mine as she slowly curled her fingers to hit that spot and I was moaning uncontrollably like some slut I am.

“You’re my pretty girl,” Scarlett moans softly as I keep clenching around her fingers; giving her this sign to become a little rough with my body. “Taking my fingers so well, you’ve dreamt about this haven’t you?”

I have indeed. I wasn’t ashamed of it, I’ve always wanted her to take my virginity and she happily took it–she looked proud taking it even. She nuzzles her face in my neck as her rapid thrust becomes more sloppy, rough, and out of control. I nodded furiously and started to hump her fingers with my hips, finding more of that pleasure. When the tip of her fingers started to hit the edge of my walls, I was gripping her hair tight as the orgasm in me was about to come out.

When I finally came, I was screaming at her mouth. It looked like she came as well from the way I clenched her fingers tight as if she couldn’t pull out. We were both kissing while I had my orgasm, my body twitching from my immense climax. I could see stars behind my eyes, as well as my sweat, dripping down from my forehead. She smiled down at me and whispered: “Tell me now, am I better than your girlfriend?”

She was far better than her.

                                                         —

We’ve spent another week being together and holding hands in private. While my parents were taking a swim, drinking beers and wine, Scarlett and I would be up in my room as she makes out with me like she couldn’t let me go. I would have my hands all over her shoulders while hers were on my bum, occasionally squeezing them until I slapped her collarbone with a faux cry. This was ecstasy, this was euphoria. I’ve never felt happier before, and I could say that this is something burnt in my memory until the day I die. She took care of me and acted like I was a fragile little girl in front of her. I’d constantly let her know that she can’t treat me like a child all the time, but she would just kiss me away and tell me that she liked the idea of taking care of my stupid self.

I knew she was joking, of course.

“You know, we should run away.”

I felt stunned when she said those two words. Run away. Was she being serious? How was that ever going to work out? I stopped kissing her and pulled away with a confused look on my face, responding with a small voice.

“How will that work out for the both of us?”

“Well, you could simply apply to a school in New York,” she says while shrugging and pulling me into her arms. I could feel her lips kissing my temple twice. “I live in Manhattan anyway, sometimes in the Hamptons. Maybe if you study there, I could always just pick you up.”

“I don’t think my parents would allow me to go to NYU.” I responded with a pout, but she just shakes her head in response and continued to kiss my lips–as if she couldn’t get away with it.

“We’ll figure that out, my little one.”

“You gotta stop calling me that,” I giggled and lay on her chest while I stared at the window where the skies were so blue that it looked like an ocean–although it wasn’t as sparkly as the sea, of course. She just hums and hugs me closer to her, our clothed bodies connecting.

“I like it,” she says. “It has a nice tone on it.”

“Yeah, yeah, sure baby.”

She just smiled and we continued to hold each other for a while before we had to go back down to spend more time with my family and Chris. And usually, whenever that happens, we keep our distance. We were afraid that my parents would find out and they would keep me away from Scarlett, which is something I’m not fond of right now. My summer couldn’t be ruined by that scenario.

Instead, something else ruined my summer that felt unexpected and surreal. I can’t even count how many times I cried that night when I found out.

I was casually going to the patio when I heard something so faint from the background. I got closer to the wall and hid there while I listened to Scarlett and my father talking about something involving marriage. My eyes lit up with the thought of her proposing to me, the imagination of being married to her. Although that talked when to another turn and I could feel my heart ripping apart when I heard what she had said.

“I’ll marry Delilah if that’s the case, I already bought the ring for our wedding.”

“Then, wonderful! I’ll be the one who’s going to arrange the reception,” I hear my mother say with a bright voice as they laugh like it was such a happy moment in their lives–while mine was starting to end. How could this happen? I was so confused and conflicted. My stomach was churning so bad that I rushed back to my room and shut the door that shook the entire house. I buried my face against my pillows and sobbed angrily, punching my fists against the sheets, and felt my knuckles burning because of the contraction. I hated her, I wanted to never see her again–I wanted to leave, I couldn’t face her. I loved her, I think I was falling in love with her and I thought she felt the same way. And apparently, she never did.

“Y/N?” I heard the sound of Scarlett’s voice behind my door and I tried not to mind it, letting myself cry hard into my pillow. When she never got my response, she had no choice but to come inside and lock the door with a click. I turned around and gave her an angry look before I stood up and stomped my way to my balcony. Instead, her arms wrapped around my torso as she kisses the back of my head.

“Let me go–”

“No,” she says with a hushed whisper and continues to kiss my head with a soft sob. “No, please don’t. I’m sorry, you shouldn’t have heard that–”

“Go fuck yourself!” I pushed her away from me and turned around with tears streaming down my eyes. She looked so small and delicate that it was easy enough to break her, and I think I was at that point that I did want to break her. Scarlett shakes her head as she tries to grab my hands, but I slap them away.

“Baby girl, you have to let me explain–”

“Why didn’t you tell me you’re going to get married?” I whispered as I slapped my hand against her chest. I wish she could fall onto the ground in pain, I wanted to see her in pain. But she wasn’t. Instead, she stood there and took my hurtful gesture against her chest. “What is wrong with you? You tell me that you love me and then go marry someone else? What is wrong with you?!”

“Baby, I love you,” she whispers and cups my face with her cold hands. I tried pulling away from her but she was so strong, I kicked and I pushed her chest away from me but god her grip was tight. She pulls me into a hug and sobs violently against my ear. “I was going to tell you, okay? I was going to. But I fell in love with you, I fell so hard for you that I forgot about the whole marriage that was going to happen.”

“Let me go,” I begged and continued to punch her chest twice with my hands, curling them into fists. “Just let me go, please.”

“I love you, my baby.”

I was finally freed from her arms and I felt my whole body collapsing. I sobbed and covered my mouth with no energy, I felt weak. It’s like when you pick out a fruit and then all so suddenly you get stabbed by those little horns. They hurt, they sting you. And that’s how exactly what was Scarlett doing to me, she was stinging me like those thorns. I watch as her eyes turn darker as she tries to reach for me, but then she decides to stay in her place and let her give me that space that I really needed.

“You can’t just say you love me then marry someone else,” I said with an unmelodic voice that I’ve never heard from myself before. She was sobbing as I was. “Y-you can’t do that, Scarlett. Not when–God, not when I realize how much I’m in love with you.”

I finally let those words out. I was in fact in love with her, in a way that can’t be explained. I thought that it would work out, that one day I’d tell my parents and show them how much I was in love with my father’s best friend. How deeply wrong I was, how incredibly stupid my entire being was. She looked at me with sorrowful eyes and wanted her arms to wrap around my body to calm me down, but I stayed in my spot until I heard her breaking apart.

“I can’t back out on this, Y/N.”

“No one’s asking you to.”

“But I want you to fight for me, god damn it,” she hissed and pulled my hands to her chest as I could feel her heart beating relentlessly. She whimpers with tears, “I want you to stop me from marrying her. I want you to, but you know I can’t. It has to be done.”

“Well, I don’t beg Scarlett,” I responded with a stiff tone and dropped her hands, walking away from her until I was holding the knob of my door to keep my strength together. It seems like the knob was my only support. Scarlett looks at me with pleading eyes that I stared at them for too long until I felt more tears coming down from my puffed eyes. I whispered for one last time, “I don’t beg. You did this, not me. I hope you have a nice wedding and–I hope you realize that I loved you like you were mine.”

I walked out on her and never saw her again after our fight. And when I was walking so far from my house, I realized how much I was in love with her. I wanted to tell her–no, I wanted to command her to leave the girl and instead be with me. I wanted her to love me as much as I love her, but apparently, it doesn’t work like that. Was I not lovable? Am I not worth it? I felt so used, I felt all alone again. When I walked to the city, that’s where I began to think how much I’ll miss her once she’s gone, how much I’ll miss the times when she would come inside my room and hold me with no sexual need, we were just cuddling until the sun came up. I’ll miss her, I know I will.

And that’s how I hated myself because of how much I’ll miss Scarlett.

The next day, she was gone with Chris. She didn’t even bother to come up and say her goodbyes, never even told my parents that she wanted to say goodbye to me. Instead, she just left. And I think I cried more than any summer that I cried on, I cried a lot. I felt pathetic and stupid for falling in love with someone who wasn’t available in the first place. I began to wonder if she was in an arranged marriage, and maybe she was. But she could’ve had the guts to tell me that she was going to get married. And most of all, I wouldn’t be getting into a relationship with her if that was going to happen.

I felt alone all over again, I felt so sad. The word felt typical, but I don’t know how else to explain how sad I was.

Eight years later, I still remember my first love. It felt like yesterday I’m not going to lie, but I had no grudge over Scarlett. Whenever I go back to Spain, the memories of us being together are all over my head. Whenever I go back to that antic shop, I remember her rummaging herself with the objects and buying most of them. I remember the time when she bought me ice cream and that was the first time we got personal with each other, it felt like yesterday. I remember her telling me that fling never existed, so maybe me and Scarlett never did exist then.

I do think it was a fling, our summer love was just a short fling that you could forget. But not for me, it will always be grained in my brain like a tattoo. Everywhere I go, I’d see her on billboards and posters and it was like she never did leave me. Instead, we never talked again. And if she decides to text me to this day, I think I’d reply.

But maybe in a friendly matter, I can’t show that I’m still in love with her. Because she never was in love with me, she couldn't say that she was when she married someone else. Or maybe, I was just some stupid girl who fell for an older person that could easily manipulate me. You can’t blame me, I was just a kid when I first met her. Eighteen, for Christ’s sakes. And whenever I do remember those beautiful memories, my heart falters when I realize that Scarlet and I had a history that she had forgotten.

It all suddenly changed when I saw her at a bookstore with a tote bag slung around her shoulder blade, wearing sunglasses to hide those beautiful eyes. I was a little far from her and I wanted to make a move, to say hello for the sake of good times. Instead, I stood there and watched as she picked out a Sylvia Plath book that was never recommended. I knew she was thinking about me, who else would read Sylvia Plath? She knew that I read her books and once told me that the author was heavily racist. I stopped reading her when I found out about that.

But she was holding a book by Sylvia Plath and purchased it with a blank expression on her face. She turned around and we both made eye contact for so long that my legs started to strain in pain. She took her sunglasses off and offered me a smile as if she couldn’t believe that I was in front of her after those years of not speaking to each other. I smiled back and we continued to stare for a long time.

“I think our world is connected,” she says casually. “Look at you, you’re in front of me.”

“No shit, Scarlett.”

She managed to let out a small laugh and nodded, clinging the book to her stomach, and continued to stare down at me with adoration.

On the way home, she was holding my hand–acting as if nothing had happened. And I happily let her, even for just a small amount of time. Even if it’s just bringing back the old times to make us feel good. Either way, I didn’t care. I was just glad that I saw her again after so long of not seeing her beautiful face.

Maybe it was never a fling, maybe it’s just that we met at the wrong time but we were definitely right for each other.

thoughts? i hope you liked the story!

[toddtakefive]

cmbyn is literally so uncomfortable to watch i fucking hate it so bad jesus christ

[mafaldaknows]

Seeing things from a Charmie perspective, it is possible AH and TC hooked up and maybe are 'friends with benefits' when the opportunity arises and also see other people. But to paint it as a 'full blown romance' (like @hotarurea does) as if they are a couple of suburban housewives is a bit far-fetched

Hello, Anon:

While I have only recently allowed myself to daydream about the two of them together in some sort of domestic arrangement, puttering around in the kitchen, because it’s just so freakin’ adorable, in reality, I understand that love is all at once very simple, but also very complicated, especially for Armie, at the moment.

I think this sentiment comes from the undeniable impact of their work together on CMBYN. We fell in love not only with Elio and Oliver, but also with Elio and Oliver’s big summer romance, so it’s understandable that many of us are still chasing that feeling in real life, always looking for, and often finding, signs of their affection and respect for each other. Seeing them together again in a romantic context would be the fulfillment of those CMBYN fantasies. No one’s letting go, and for many valid reasons.

But we really don’t know anything for sure, Anon, in either direction: are they or aren’t they? Only time (or Tim) will tell. I’ve not attached myself to any specific outcome or scenario, with my feet firmly planted in the hot Italian grass in my mind 😉🍑🌳💙✨💛😊

I personally believe that whatever form their deep personal connection takes, love is love is love. Ultimately, it’s really no one’s business but theirs what they do with that. I just want them to happy, whatever that means for them.

Thanks for your comment 😊

[gayregis]

how do i ignore all the misogyny in the witcher books? they're much better than the netflix show storywise but there is so much gross stuff compared to what i usually read/watch

hi!! thank you for the ask, this is a very important topic to address, though i believe you are asking the wrong question. the matter is not how to ignore the misogyny in the witcher and other pieces of media, but rather how to confront it and face it head-on.

i don’t believe in making excuses for the media i consume when it has “problematic elements” to it. this isn’t meant to be taken as an excuse to “consume anything you like,” because i would not engage with something insidious in its nature (such as media that revolves around and is based upon harmful stereotypes or insensitive jokes and cannot exist without this, some examples of this are infamous things that i’ve seen discussed on this site like captive prince, cmbyn, and hazbin hotel). instead this is about when a piece of media is good overall in nature (the witcher has many anti-war, anti-violence, anti-imperialist themes and messages relating to family, childhood, friendship, and love) but has elements that are the results of the author’s personal biases.

i think before i address how to deal with the misogyny, i’ll actually define what misogyny exists within the witcher books, to be more specific about what we are talking about, and also to do the work of addressing the misogyny in the books:

how the women in the witcher are treated as characters and how they are depicted by the author.

there are a few good points in this subject. characters such as yennefer and ciri are very strong characters who receive a lot of development over the course of the series, and are main characters that are integral to the plot. they demonstrate both strengths and weaknesses, virtues and vices. they have depth and are not one-dimensional characters, especially as they become more and more complex over the course of the series.

blatant sexualization of women when it’s inappropriate or irrelevant, descriptions of female characters’ looks or bodies that male characters would not have received.

bizzare standards for what is beautiful for a woman, including body descriptions (“triss’s waist measured 22”) and extreme focus on youth and the age cusp of around 15 to 18 as being the most attractive for a woman (stated in-universe, even though this could be excused as being what is normal in the 1200s, keep in mind that this is the author’s decision to impliment this standard into their society). 

descriptions and scenarios of extreme violence towards woman that are gratuitous in nature and do not add to the story or have any relevance. (geralt being paralyzed with his knee during the stampede at the refugee camp in bof is NOT on the same level as yennefer being extremely tortured at stygga or ciri meeting “forest gramps” in lotl). some of this violence towards women is related to the male antagonists being misogynistic (such as leo bonhart) but a lot of it is just pure filler and is not necessary for the story.

majority of female characters do not get the depth they deserve, and some are pretty one-dimensional. the sorceresses are a good example of this, as the majority of them are shallow and manipulative. female characters are also just generally not given as much “page time” as male characters, for example compare how much depth and backstory regis and cahir receive to how much milva and angouleme receive. regis’ backstory is entirely irrelevant to the main plot but it’s extremely long, and angouleme’s backstory is more relevant to the main plot (she was born of cintrian nobility) yet it is extremely short. (one could make the argument that this is an effect of their characters because regis talks a lot and angouleme is still processing her trauma, but more could have been given to angouleme even if she is not extremely talkative).

the only canon lesbians in the witcher are not good people and are manipulative in nature, and the only canon f/f relationship (ciri/mistle) is representative of a turmultous, vicious time of violence, and is based upon sexual assault.

the gender non-conforming female characters who ARE good people,never have their gnc-ness treated with any depth, and it is insinuated that they are heterosexual.

male protagonists such as geralt and dandelion are both misogynistic at various times in the books, especially in the short stories. this is unlike when male antagonists are misogynistic, because it is represented as something wrong and is intended to characterize them as vile people. instead, geralt and dandelion say or do misogynistic things and it is treated like a joke or something normal, and not a flaw or something repulsive.

how to confront all of this?

the first step is to address it, just as the above list does, and discuss things that stood out to you and are definitively wrong, that the author should not have put in the story because it is useless and only serves to further misogyny in the real world. it would be a grave mistake to think of these things as “fine” and continue to view the witcher books as some kinds of perfect scripture. so many people feel that just because they enjoy something, they are not allowed to critique it and discuss parts of it that are uncomfortable or plain wrong. 

to continue with this point, i think it is important to put the witcher into context as a fantasy series written in the 1990s by a white man who did not (to my knowledge) intend this series for such a broad audience and franchise that it has become. this is not an excuse for sapkowski at all, but rather i think it’s important to understand the origins of the witcher and how it came to be in the first place. this wasn’t a series made to be inclusive and diverse, it wasn’t intended to be “for us” in the first place. 

i do not believe that there is MEANT to be any “positive representation” in the witcher because i don’t believe it is something that sapkowski was actively considering when he wrote the books. just because there isn’t good representation in the books does not mean they and everything related to them are not worth your time, but if you are someone desperately searching for good positive representation or someone who NEEDS to see representation of someone like them in every piece of media they consume, i don’t think the witcher books are necessarily a good place to start. this isn’t meant to deter you from reading or interacting with the books/book canon, but rather a fair warning about what the intentions of the books are. 

i don’t think the books are a groundshaking work of art that are meant to inspire concepts such as diversity, rather it is a very specific work that in its true nature is an argument of a critique of popular fantasy tropes with additional commentary on themes of violence and family. so this is basically meant to say ‘understand what you are getting into.’

how to move on?

the main question which i answer is “is the root of this thing (a piece of media/a character/etc) something that revolves around the bad part, or was the bad part just thrown in there and is incongruent with the rest of the thing?”

the biggest example i think of tackling the misogyny in the witcher and still managing to enjoy it is with dandelion (lol). i think it’s every day that i have to reconcile with the fact that i genuinely enjoy dandelion as a character and hold a conversation with myself about which parts from canon i enjoy and which parts i don’t. his character at its core is not a bad person, he is meant to be an inversion of the trope of the slovenly and lecherous comic relief, and sapkowski succeeds in turning the trope on its head. dandelion is very loyal and committed, he demonstrates his worth in the narrative and doesn’t act with pure selfishness and greed. he is an inversion of all of the negative traits of his trope, but sapkowski also wrote in, like, a literal rape joke for him to say in the bounds of reason. how do you get over that? personally, i just go back to “is this congruent with the rest of the character or not,” and my answer at least for dandelion is no. the rape joke in the bounds of reason seemed entirely out of place to me, it doesn’t fit in with the rest of his character.

similarly, why does geralt sleep with girls who are barely 18 within the events of the witcher? how do you get over that? well, i don’t believe that’s congruent to the rest of his character, the POINT of his character, which is to protect young girls. 

so i go back on my word of what i begun this answer with, and i tell you that i indeed DO ignore some parts about the witcher. but it is not a blind ignorance, an ignorance in which i do not consider the effects and i pretend like they do not exist at all. it’s a choice which i make and a process of logical steps that i follow, an understanding and an agreement i come to with myself and the media i interact with. i acknowledge the context surrounding the creation of the media, i acknowledge the effects that these elements had on their readers and how they relate to the real world, and how i know that these things are objectively wrong. i understand why they exist in the canon, and why i feel justified for choosing to take them out of what i regard as part of my experience.

it’s tempting to proclaim “canon is dead and we have killed the author,” but understand how the author’s personal experiences and biases have influenced the media that they created and which you now consume. you can’t take the personal biases completely out of the writing of the witcher and you have to acknowledge that they still exist in the text. even if you make up your own headcanons, it is still imperative to consider the issues that originate in canon.

what does this look like?

complaining to your friends who also like the witcher / on social media that you hate these parts of the books and explain why you hate them and why they are unnecessary

thinking about why these parts were written in and the context surrounding them

making your own rewrites / headcanons around these parts (ex: my idea for the rewrite of a little sacrifice)

making your own headcanons to establish what was not (ex: my headcanons for angouleme’s trauma and how it affects her in the present, headcanons about how the hansa becomes a family)

tldr: acknowledge why these elements exist in canon. choose to follow a process that will allow you to salvage the parts which speak to you while still understanding that these elements exist in canon and will never disappear. continue to like the canon without the parts that you understand are rotten.

edit: also the netflix show has some pretty misogynistic parts to it as well, yennefer and ciri have way less agency as characters than they do in the books. geralt literally coerces yennefer into sex in twn and treats her with absolutely no respect, and ran from fathering ciri solely because he was a dick. obviously this isn’t the point of the ask, but i think it’s important to acknowledge that twn has misogynistic elements as well and not pretend like just because twn was led in 2020 by a wealthy white woman that it’s progressive in any way.

[voidcat]

something i wanna add on the “dark content discourse” (this is @ those who support them)

------

also i want to point this one thing out bc i saw a specific anon on lou’s blog and

hey here’s the thing: there is an alarming rate of dark content in fanfics nowadays. each year fanfic wriitng (esp smut) got more detailed but hey this can happen sure

but do you knw what’s as bad as dark content creators using general tags/not tagging properly? blogs writing “smut” and the “kinks” section at the beginning of the fic includes serious matters that certainly are NOT kinks

i cant believe people some people need to hear this but kidnapping, stockholm syndrome, dubcon/noncon, incest et cetera are NOT kinks. these are serious things. this is not a scenario where you tease your loved one and act like you dont wanna do anything sexual. stockholm syndrome is a serious topic and it takes a long while to recover. abuse and harassment are not just physical, in fact they are even more harmful whe psychological. dub/noncon are serious cases where you are fully stripped of control

these are nothing to be romanticized. these are not light subjects. i KNOW everyone copes with things differently but even if/when the professional you’re seeing suggested you to write down your trauma to cope, that doesn’t mean “yea go post it online” they’re probably suggestng a sccenario where you take control of the situation and get rid of your abuser. or hey, jjust the act of wriitng down helps, but in case it doesn’t, burn the paper or delete the file, shred the paper to pieces or erase the whole thing.

i’m saying this because esp when a fandom consists of minors who haven’t experienced or came in close contact with things such as these, they will have a flawed view of these. this is alarming and makes them more vulnerable.

like hey let’s say just wriitng down doesn’t help unless you Publicly share it,,, then idk maybe don’t use general tags? i search up a character name and 4 out f 5 posts are fanfics w descriptions that say “kinks: stockholm syndrome, dubcon, kidnapping...” i cant beliieve we have to say this int he year of 2020 but these are NOT kinks nor are they excusable

and i want to add: would u support it if it was a man wriitng it? bc i remember how fast the author of cmbyn got canceled

okay look i probably left out some things i wanna write n i made shit loads of typos bc my eyes hurt + im beyond pissed but HEY reading leaves an influence on young people, more than you or they realize. Think of them and their well-being before you post something, if you wanna post it so bad, use tags/warnings PROPERLY.

[kramer]

tbh after seeing cmbyn i just. do not trust luca guadagnino whatsoever bc he chose to put this huge emphasis on the fact that it was pedophilic while simultaneously portraying it as positive and normal like. it was so extremely dodgy that i feel like it’s gonna be almost a woody allen scenario where it’s like “oh maybe this man who keeps making movies sexualising teenagers is a creep”

Yeah I’ve never watched it bc it just grossed me out to hear about it but that’s my exact reasoning in thinking some shit is gonna be revealed about him! Esp with his new show it seems to be a Pattern of what he likes to portray and it’s downright disturbing