Title: Spell On You Fandom/original: Original Characters: Two, unnamed. In my mind, it's a butch lesbian and a femme, but it could just as easily be a man and a woman. Rating: PG (cos I can't stand G ratings Word count: 251 A/N: Lyrics and title are taken from a song originally written by Screamin' Jay Hawkins. The version I had in mind while writing this was sung by Creedence Clearwater Revival.
Because you’re mine…
It’s always that song, that damn song, running through my head when I see her. The driving guitar refrain starts, John Fogerty starts singing – his voice irrepressibly demanding and masculine. I see her, and I think of that song. I hear that song, and I think of smoky pool halls, jeans slung low beneath the curve of a hip, a cigarette tucked behind an ear. Dim lights, threads of smoke hanging in the air. A dangerous smile full of temptations and half-promises.
You better stop that thing that you do…
She lit my cigarette first, and then her own on the same match. She shook it out and took a deep drag, let the smoke trickle out her teeth as she smiled. She gave nothing away, and I was an open book. Always was that way. She made me want to wear a leather coat and slick back my hair. Made me want to buy a motorcycle like some half-cocked James Dean wannabe, just so I could feel her pressed up behind me, just so I could feel like I’d regained a little bit of control. She made me want to live dangerously and die young.
You better watch out, I ain’t lying…
I watched her walk away. Her hips swung invitingly, and maybe she looked back once, a hint of green eyes and the curve of a smile tossed over her shoulder, but I looked away. I knew better than that; only a fool could follow her.
no subject
Fandom/original: Original
Characters: Two, unnamed. In my mind, it's a butch lesbian and a femme, but it could just as easily be a man and a woman.
Rating: PG (cos I can't stand G ratings
Word count: 251
A/N: Lyrics and title are taken from a song originally written by Screamin' Jay Hawkins. The version I had in mind while writing this was sung by Creedence Clearwater Revival.
Because you’re mine…
It’s always that song, that damn song, running through my head when I see her. The driving guitar refrain starts, John Fogerty starts singing – his voice irrepressibly demanding and masculine. I see her, and I think of that song. I hear that song, and I think of smoky pool halls, jeans slung low beneath the curve of a hip, a cigarette tucked behind an ear. Dim lights, threads of smoke hanging in the air. A dangerous smile full of temptations and half-promises.
You better stop that thing that you do…
She lit my cigarette first, and then her own on the same match. She shook it out and took a deep drag, let the smoke trickle out her teeth as she smiled. She gave nothing away, and I was an open book. Always was that way. She made me want to wear a leather coat and slick back my hair. Made me want to buy a motorcycle like some half-cocked James Dean wannabe, just so I could feel her pressed up behind me, just so I could feel like I’d regained a little bit of control. She made me want to live dangerously and die young.
You better watch out, I ain’t lying…
I watched her walk away. Her hips swung invitingly, and maybe she looked back once, a hint of green eyes and the curve of a smile tossed over her shoulder, but I looked away. I knew better than that; only a fool could follow her.