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maudie-duan · 3 days ago

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Summary: A lingering crush brings two old campers back as Camp Counselor in hopes that maybe, just maybe, they can finally cross a line that they've been dancing along for eight long years, but when Harry turns a cold shoulder, you're left wondering if you'll ever actually get the chance you've been dreaming of. A chance to call him yours. Word Count: 8.9k Warning: Mild Angst, Mild Smut, Fluff, and Falling In Love!

This was it, right? This was the place that set the landscape for most of your daydreams. A place so vivid in your mind that no matter where you were or what you were doing, all you would have to do was close your eyes, and there you were, standing at the edge of the lake, watching the wind send gentle waves swaying across the water.

This was Camp Wildwood.

Your sanctuary

Your escape.

Your body knew this, knew the earthy scent of pine, how it picked up on the breeze skimming over Lake Serenade, the rustle of the leaves echoing their whispers to the soft, warm air on a summer night as the rest of the world went still around you, silence, only the earth singing her praise with the hum of nature.

There was no other place like it. This was what you looked forward to every year: that scent, this view—the wooden cabins nestled between tall trees, the shimmering lake in the distance, and the large campfire pit where you had spent countless summer nights singing songs and roasting marshmallows. This was your home away from home ever since you were ten, a welcome escape from the concrete jungle of New York City.

But this summer was different.

This summer, you weren’t just a camper; you were a counselor.

Your eyes darted across the grounds, desperate in their search for that one familiar face among the sea of arriving staff members, hope swelling in your chest. You didn’t think you would be this anxious or that your heart would be hammering against your ribs. Was it excitement or dread, a delicate mix swirling with a year of emotions you had kept at bay waiting for this one moment.

Would he keep his promise? What if he’d changed his mind?

Harry.

The boy who had claimed your heart with his dimpled smile and laughing eyes, and like clockwork each summer, Harry was sure to take a tiny piece of you with him when the inevitable goodbye rolled off that sweet British tongue.

Eight years of this.

You knew it was more than a summer crush, and the very thought of him not showing made your stomach twist into knots, and you stood there, trying to prepare yourself for the possibility that he might not come.

You still remembered the first time you met him.

You were both ten, awkward and shy, of course, two newbies assigned to neighboring cabins. He had this thick accent that made all the American kids giggle, but you found it endearing, the cadence like music to your ears, and the two of you became fast friends. Over the years, your friendship had grown, evolving into something that teetered on the edge of romance but never quite tipped over. There was always an unspoken understanding between you—always a summer crush that remained just that because what was the point, right? When camp ended, you returned to New York, and he flew back across the ocean to England.

Last summer, on the final night of camp, you had made a pact with Harry. You were both seventeen, sitting by the lake, feet dangling in the cool water as the stars reflected on its surface.

“Next year,” he had said, his voice deeper than when you first met, “we should come back as counselors.”

You looked at him then, memorizing the way the moonlight cast shadows on his beautiful face. “Promise?”

Then he extended his pinky finger, a childish gesture that made you giddy. “Promise.”

And you linked your pinky with his, trying to ignore the flutter in the pit of your stomach as your skin touched. “It’s a deal, Styles.”

You knew this summer marked a threshold.

A dividing line between adolescence and adulthood that neither one of you could ignore. At eighteen, you both stood at the cusp of real life, of college decisions and career paths that would inevitably pull you in different directions. You had both changed; you could hear it in the deep timbre of his voice during those rare phone calls and could definitely see it in the subtle maturity that had crept into his features in the photos he posted, the people and things he surrounded himself with.

Coming back to Camp Wildwood no longer felt like a reunion with a place or even a person—It felt like a collision between memory and possibility. It would no longer be the innocent summers of friendship bracelets and ghost stories around the campfire.

Those days were behind you.

What lay ahead was uncharted territories—a summer where stolen glances might stir something more, or maybe those understood feelings might finally lead to something more concrete. Every fiber of your being knew that the weeks that lay ahead would either transform everything between you or bring eight years of summer dreams to a bittersweet end, and you would have to be okay with that.

You would have to move on.

Now, as you dragged your suitcase toward the counselors’ cabins, you couldn’t help but wonder if he had kept his promise.

“Hey! City girl!”

The British draw made you freeze. Slowly, you turned around, and there he was—Harry, walking toward you with that same smile that had been haunting your dreams for years.

Except, he wasn’t exactly the same. He was taller, his shoulders more broad. His once short, curly hair now fell in loose waves around his face. But his eyes—those fucking green eyes that reminded you of the forest surrounding you.

Those eyes were still the same.

And those eyes were moving down your body at a pace that made you want to run and hide.

“Harry,” you breathed, unable to stop the smile spreading across your face. “You came back.”

“I promised, didn’t I?” He reached for you, hesitant for a moment before pulling you into a hug, and you melted into his embrace, breathing in his scent as a heady rush of emotions coursed through your body, and you closed your eyes, letting the hug linger until he moved away.

When he pulled back, his eyes roamed your face as if reacquainting himself with your features. “You look good, city girl.”

“Not so bad yourself, Brit,” you teased, trying to ignore the way your heart raced, hoping he couldn’t see it beating at your throat like a drum.

For a moment, it felt like no time had passed at all.

The both of you were still those two kids with summer crushes, stealing glances across the campfire. But then there was a strange shift in his expression, so subtle you almost missed it. A slight hardening around his eyes. A slight stiffening of his shoulders as he took a small step back, creating distance where there had been none.

“Come on,” he said, grabbing your suitcase, his voice noticeably cooler than it had been seconds ago. “Orientation starts in an hour.”

The sudden shift was disorienting as you walked beside him toward the counselors’ cabins. Your questions were already stacking up as you tried to keep pace with his long strides—he was keeping a careful space between you, his responses to your questions becoming shorter, more clipped. It confused you. The warm Harry who had embraced you was disappearing behind a wall you couldn’t make sense of, and somewhere, while you were lost in the anticipation of it all, you still thought maybe, just maybe.

Little did you know how right—and wrong—you would be.

The first week of camp flew by in a blur of orientations, you getting to know the other counselors, some new, some you still remembered. That week was spent preparing for the arrival of the campers. Luckily, you were assigned to the Maple cabin, responsible for a group of twelve-year-old girls, while Harry was put in charge of the Oak cabin with boys of the same age.

But something had definitely changed.

The easy camaraderie you had always relied on with Harry seemed to have evaporated into thin air. He was distant, almost cold. During staff meetings, he sat with the other male counselors, laughing loudly at jokes you couldn’t hear. Somedays, you only crossed paths during activities; those were the times he would give you a quick nod before turning his attention elsewhere, your eyes following him like the lovesick fool you were.

The days he didn’t look your way at all were the days that the sun seemed to swallow you into a fiery pit of hell.

Only a traitor could sink you into a cruel hole of misery.

And that’s what he was—A traitor.

It was as if the Harry you knew had been replaced by someone else—someone cocky, arrogant, and yet he was so fucking attractive.

Because that was the worst part. Despite his new attitude, you couldn’t deny that Harry had grown even more handsome over the past year. His body had filled out, muscles more defined. Had he been going to the gym? It wasn’t just his body—it was also the tattoos—every day, you swore you caught new glimpses of tattoos you had never seen before peeking out from under his tight t-shirt sleeves. The dark ink marking his tan skin was like a mystery you had yet to uncover, it drove you wild, the sight making your mouth go dry in seconds.

And fuck, if you weren’t the only one who noticed because every female counselor seemed to have their eye on him, especially Gwen from the Willow cabin, who couldn’t for the life of her shut up about him.

“God, have you seen Harry’s arms...those tattoos. It’s crazy he has that many already?” Gwen sighed one night as you both got ready for bed in the cabin you shared. “I swear, I almost fainted during the canoeing demonstration today.”

Her words made you cringe as you forced a noncommittal sound, pretending to be engrossed in the book you were reading, But really, you already wanted to bite her little Barbie head off as she brushed her long blonde hair, shiny and perfect, not a split-end in sight. She was the exact girl you pictured him with; you kept thinking every time your eyes moved to her.

“And that accent,” she gushed, oblivious to your discomfort. “It’s, like, illegal to be that hot and have a British accent. It’s not fair to the rest of us.”

“Mmm—” you mumbled, turning a page you hadn’t actually read, thinking it should probably be illegal for two really hot people to even interact; how are the rest of us supposed to have a chance when she’s walking around like fucking Malibu Barbie all day?

Who even looks good in khaki shorts, anyway?

Only Gwen, dammit, only Gwen.

“I think he might be into me,” She added, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “We were on kitchen duty together yesterday. He kept making these little jokes, and our hands touched when we were washing dishes, and I swear there was a moment.”

You looked at her then, wanting to catch the look on her face as your stomach twisted at the thought, jealousy knotching down your spine with every comment, but you forced a smile. “That’s... great, Gwen.”

“I know—I mean, it’s probably nothing, but a girl can dream, right?” She flopped onto her bed, staring dreamily at the ceiling, and you hated the innocence of her carefree wonderment. You wanted it to be you. He was supposed to be grazing your hand, staring into your eyes, dammit, not sharing those dimples with someone else.

“Do you think I should make a move? or Is that too forward?” She spoke up, cutting through your raging thoughts

You wanted to kill her dreams right then and there, tell her that the Harry you knew wouldn’t be interested in someone so obvious, so shallow. But then again, was that even true anymore? The Harry you knew seemed to have vanished, replaced by this frat-boy version who might very well be into someone like Gwen.

“I don’t know him that well,” you lied, the words leaving a bitter taste on your tongue.

Gwen raised an eyebrow. “Really? I thought you guys were friends. Didn’t you both go to camp here as kids?”

“We did,” you admitted. “But people change.” You forced, each word threatening to smolder out that flame that had been burning bright for him all these years because the truth held an edge you weren’t sure you were ready to face.

Then, it was like Gwen was trying to drive that knife deeper, and she said, “Well, if you have any insider info on what he’s into, feel free to give a girl some hints,” and she fucking winked before turning off her bedside lamp.

Bitch.

Traitor.

Another fake, you thought as you lay in the darkness, listening to Gwen’s breathing even out as she fell asleep. Your mind was racing. This new information opened a festering wound of envy. What had happened to Harry? Why was he acting so different? And why did it hurt so much to see him pulling away from you? and the thought you couldn’t stop repeating was:

What if he feels the same way about Gwen?

The next morning, the questions only seemed to multiply when you saw Harry and Gwen sitting close together at breakfast, their pretty little heads bent too close as they laughed over something on Harry’s phone. It made you sick, the food on your tray no longer appealing, the feeling hollowing out your chest.

But it wasn’t just Gwen. Harry seemed to be charming everyone at camp, from the youngest campers to the oldest staff members.

Even Terry, the camp director, wasn’t immune to his charm. You for sure didn’t miss the way she smiled a little wider when Harry was around, how she always seemed to find reasons to touch his arm or shoulder during conversations. And this new version of Harry didn’t seem to mind the attention whatsoever—the way he made sure to return her smiles with ones of his own, those dimples dipping, the ones you thought were reserved for you now on display for everyone because everyone got something from Harry.

Everyone except you.

That’s when spite grabbed you by the throat, forcing you to call it what it was.

Insecurity.

Harry was making you insecure, and this brought on a whole new round of emotions because never in your life had he made you feel this way about yourself—made you feel like this low hideous being, the fucking green-eyed monster you were slowly becoming in his presence.

And you hated it.

One afternoon, as you were supervising your campers during arts and crafts, you couldn’t help but observe Harry across the field, leading his group in a game of capture the flag. You sat there mesmerized, Harry moving with an air of confidence that was new, shouting encouragements and high-fiving the boys when they scored. His laughter carried across the distance, and for a moment, it was like you were transported back in time, back to a time when that laugh was usually directed at you.

“Miss, are you okay?” One of your campers, a girl named Lily, was looking at you with concern. “You look sad.”

You were quick to plaster a smile on your face. “I’m fine, Lily. Just thinking about what activity we should do next.”

“Can we go swimming? It’s so hot today.”

Relieved you nodded, grateful for the distraction. “Swimming sounds absolutely perfect. We’ll finish up here and head to the lake.”

As your group made their way to the lake, you passed Harry and his campers returning from their game. For a second, your eyes met briefly, and you swore you thought you saw a flicker of the old Harry—Those green eyes softening, a playful smirk playing at his lips when he caught you gawking after he lifted his shirt to wipe the sweat from his brow, and you smiled, giving yourself away, and he liked it, you swore he liked it. But then he had to go and ruin it all by looking away. His eyes cutting from you like you didn’t exist, slicing the moment by saying something to one of his campers that made the boy laugh, and the moment was gone just like that, pulled from under your feet. Stealing what little joy you had that afternoon.

That evening, after the campers were settled in their cabins for the night, all the counselors were set to gather in the staff lounge for a meeting. Still sour from earlier, you took a seat near the back, trying not to notice that Harry was sitting at the front, right next to Gwen, but what’s new?

“Alright, everyone,” Terry began, her voice carrying through the room. “First of all, great job on the first week. The campers are having a blast, and that’s all thanks to your hard work.”

There was a round of applause, and begrudgingly you forced yourself to join in, even as your eyes remained fixed on the back of Harry’s head, trying to bore a hole with your sharp gaze, it only getting worse any time Gwen leaned in to giggle in his ear.

Nothing was that funny, and here you were again.

Spiteful.

“Now, onto business,” Terry continued. “We’re going to be switching up the night patrol duty partners. We’ve decided to make the pairs co-ed, to ensure a balance of perspectives and skills.”

A murmur broke out, then—a new energy sweeping through the room. Night patrol was a responsibility all counselors shared, taking turns to walk the grounds after lights out, making sure all campers were in their cabins and everything was secure. This had never in the history of you being at camp here been co-ed, and when you saw Gwen nudge Harry’s arm with a giddy smile, it had you seeing red.

“I’ve posted the new pairings on the bulletin board outside. Please check your schedule before you leave. The new arrangements start tomorrow night.”

As the meeting wrapped up, everyone filed out to check the bulletin board. You took your time hanging back, waiting for the crowd to thin before approaching. When you finally got a clear view of the list, your heart stopped.

There, next to your name, was Harry’s.

And dammit, now you were going to be spending every third night on patrol with him, just the two of you, alone in the dark.

What would you even say? Would he say anything to you at all, or would that wall be a stone fortress?

Impenetrable by your existence alone.

You raked your eyes from the list, meeting Harry’s gaze across the crowd. He was looking at you with another one of those unreadable expressions, his jaw tight. It was like the world stopped as the moment stretched between you, charged with something you couldn’t name, and before you could let his cold stare burn you alive, you turned and stormed off, your head a tangled mess of anger, confusion, a sudden traitorous flutter of excitement because god, you had wanted to be alone with him since the day you got here, and now this was your chance.

Sometimes fate gives you exactly what you asked for—and that’s the problem at times, right?

The following day passed in a blur of activities and camper obligations, but your mind was elsewhere, fixated on the upcoming night patrol with Harry, an endless chatter of thoughts circling. By the time evening rolled around, your nerves were stretched thin.

Exhausted. You just wanted to crawl into bed.

But you carried on.

After ensuring your campers were settled for the night, with the junior counselor on duty inside the cabin, you made your way to the main office, where night patrol always began. Harry was already there, leaning against the wall, scrolling through his phone. He looked up as you approached, his face carefully neutral, and so was yours.

“Hey,” he mumbled, pocketing his phone.

“Hi,” you replied, your voice cooler than intended, and you forced your eyes away from his face. You’re heart already aching for the past.

With perfect timing, Terry emerged from her office, handing you both flashlights. “Standard route tonight, guys. Perimeter check, then a sweep of the main areas. Radio if you see anything concerning.”

You nodded, avoiding eye contact with both of them. You weren’t sure if you could do this if you could play it cool.

“You two have a good night. I always love seeing old campmates reconnect. That’s why I paired the two of you together,” Terry said, her hand lingering on Harry’s arm a beat longer than necessary before she retreated back to her office.

The silence that set in between you and Harry was deafening as you stepped out into the night. The camp was quiet, too quiet. Most of the lights in the cabins were already out. The only sounds were the chirping of crickets and the distant hooting of an owl.

Without hesitation, you started walking toward the perimeter path, Harry falling into step beside you, his presence making you angry, yet you wanted him near, which made you even angrier, which made the silence loom, and that made you even angrier, and here you were getting sucked into a vicious cycle until the tension shaped itself into a palpable entity—a living thing that seemed to grow and stretch with each passing minute of silence, trying to steal the words crawling up your throat.

Finally, unable to bear it any longer, you spoke. “So, what’s your problem?”

Harry glanced at you, his expression guarded. “What do you mean?”

“Don’t play dumb, Harry. You’ve been avoiding me since camp started. Actually, no—you’ve been actively ignoring me. What did I even do?” And you reached for his arm, stopping him in his tracks.

He let out a sigh like he couldn’t be bothered to answer the question, and he ran a hand through his hair, making your insides ache to be the one touching him in this very moment, “You didn’t do anything.” He forced.

“Then why are you acting like I don’t exist? We were friends, Harry. At least, I thought we were.”

“We were,” he said quietly. “We are.”

“Really? Because friends don’t ignore each other for weeks. Friends don’t act like complete strangers after knowing each other for eight years.”

Harry turned away, then shook his head, and you grabbed at his arm, desperate for him to look you in the eyes. In the moonlight, his features were shadowed, but you could still see the conflict in his eyes. “It’s complicated.”

“Well—uncomplicate it for me,” you challenged, crossing your arms.

He looked away, his jaw working as if he was struggling with what to say. “I just... I thought it would be easier this way.”

“Easier for who? Because it’s certainly not easier for me to have you suddenly turn into some kind of stranger.”

“For both of us,” he said, his voice rising slightly. “Look, we’re not kids anymore. We can’t just pick up where we left off every summer and pretend like the rest of the year doesn’t exist.”

His words landed hard on your ears, the truth a weight you knew you both had been carrying, “I never pretended that.” You whispered

“Didn’t you? We text what? A few times, like some obligatory check-in, and then nothing until we’re back here. And then what? We have our summer thing and then go back to our separate lives? It’s not real, is it? How could any of that be real?

You took a step back, the pain in his voice washing over you., “It was real to me, Harry. Every moment we spent together was real to me.”

Something flickered in his eyes—a vulnerability that reminded you of the boy you used to know. But then it was gone, replaced by that new hardness you had come to associate with this new version of Harry.

“Well, maybe it shouldn’t have been,” he said, his voice curt. “Maybe we should have just kept it casual, like everyone else does at summer camp.”

“Is that what you’re doing now? Keeping it casual with Gwen? With Terry? Fuck, I don’t know, with anyone who gives you attention?”

The words came out harsher than you intended, your jealousy spewing, all the hurt you had been trying to suppress rising to the surface.

Harry’s eyes narrowed. “That’s not fair.”

“Isn’t it? You come back here all different, with your new look and this new freaking attitude, flirting with everyone except me. What am I supposed to think?”

“You’re supposed to think that maybe I grew up. That maybe I’ve realized that whatever was going on between us wasn’t going anywhere. That maybe I’m trying to move on.”

The confession hit you like a physical blow. You had always known, logically, that your summer connection with Harry had an expiration date. But hearing him say it out loud, confirming that he was actively trying to move past whatever feelings he’d had for you—it hurt more than you could have imagined because these weren’t the words you wanted to hear him say.

“Fine,” you said, your voice barely audible. “If that’s what you want, then fine. Let’s just get through this patrol, and then we can go back to ignoring each other.”

That was it. This was how it would end.

And now you had to move on.

Gutted, somehow, you forced yourself from his gaze and turned to continue walking, your vision blurring as hot tears welled despite your desperate attempts to hold them back. Each step felt heavier than the last, your chest constricting with an ache so visceral you could barely breathe as the heat of the night swarmed your lungs. Your throat burned, a painful lump growing, choking off any words you might have said to salvage what was breaking between you.

But there was nothing because he seemed to have made up his mind.

Behind you, Harry’s heavy sigh cut through the night like a knife, twisting deeper into the wound his words had already carved. He followed, his footsteps hesitant, maintaining a distance that felt both suffocatingly close and devastatingly far—slowly morphing into the physical manifestation of what your relationship had become, but nothing hurt worse than the silence because there’s nothing like the finality that silence brings, a tangible hurt, something that could crush you beneath its weight if you let it.

And you weren’t sure if you could stop it or if you wanted to.

Let him see you cry, you thought.

Make him see the pain he’s causing you.

The rest of the patrol passed in strained silence, both of you performing your duties mechanically. As you approached the supply cabin—the last stop on your route—you noticed the door was slightly ajar.

“The supply cabin’s open,” you forced out, the first words either of you had spoken in nearly an hour.

Harry nodded, pushing past you, and he forced the door wider, his silent gesture adding a sting to the hurt. “Probably just someone forgetting to lock up after getting equipment for tomorrow.”

You didn’t want to but followed him inside, and the small space seemed to narrow, feeling smaller with both of you in it. The cabin was filled with shelves of sports equipment, arts and crafts supplies, and other camp necessities. A single bulb hung from the ceiling, casting everything in a dim, yellow light when Harry pulled the chain.

“Doesn’t look like anything’s missing,” he said, scanning the shelves, and your eyes roamed over his face wishing that he looked as shitty as you felt, but he still held some kind of power over you, and you felt the ache deep in your bones.

You nodded, suddenly very aware of how close he was in the confined space. The scent of him—the earthy pine from the forest, the woody campfire from earlier, and something recognizably Harry—filled your senses, making it harder to concentrate on the task at hand.

And what was that again?

“We should check the inventory list, just to be sure,” you said, moving toward the clipboard hanging on the wall.

As you reached for it, Harry reached for it, too, his hand brushing against yours, and you both froze, the contact sending a jolt of electricity through your body. Slowly, you turned to face him, finding him much closer than you expected.

His green eyes, dark in the dim light, searched yours as the tension between you shifted, transforming from anger and hurt into something else entirely—something buzzing with a dangerous thrill that had you aching for a different ending.

“Harry,” you whispered, not sure if it was a question or a plea.

He swallowed, his gaze dropping to your lips for a fraction of a second before meeting your eyes again. “Yeah?” He forced.

“Tell me why you came back?” you asked, even though you knew exactly what he meant.

He didn’t answer, just took a step closer, eliminating what little space remained between you both, and your back hit the wall, the clipboard forgotten as it clattered to the floor, the sound making your heart race because you had never felt anything like this before.

This pull.

His gaze.

The magnitude of the words not spoken.

“This,” he murmured, his breath warm against your face. “Us.”

Your heart was pounding, your body painfully aware of every point where it almost touched his. “I don’t want it to end like this...” You breathed.

Whatever resolve he seemed to have before crumbled at your words. With a groan that sounded like surrender, Harry closed the final distance between you, his lips crashing against yours with an intensity that took your breath away.

The kiss was nothing like you had imagined during all those summers of wondering. It was better—raw and desperate, edged with the frustration that had been building between you for weeks, for years. His hands found your waist, pulling you closer as yours tangled in his hair, those soft curls you had dreamed of touching for years, now threading through your fingers with a new drive.

When you finally broke apart, both gasping for air, Harry pushed his forehead to yours. “I’ve wanted to do this for so long,” he confessed, his voice rough.

“Why didn’t you?” you asked, your fingers still playing with the hair at the nape of his neck, his eyes drawing you in, holding you in place, when everything in you was screaming this is a bad idea.

“Because I was scared. Because every summer, I’d go home with this ache in my chest, missing you. And it got harder each year, knowing that whatever we had was confined to this place, to these few weeks.” and fuck, if those weren’t the words you had been dying to hear.

And you felt it.

This flood of realization.

This understanding—his distance, his new persona. It was all a defense mechanism, his way of protecting himself from the pain of wanting something he thought he couldn’t have.

“I missed you too,” you admitted. “Every day, not just during summer.”

And for the first time since you had arrived at camp, his fucking walls were coming down, you could see the shift in his gaze, feel raw emotion replacing the careful distance as his searching eyes met yours. “Really?”

“Really,” you confirmed, pulling him back to you for another kiss.

This one was slower.

Deeper.

Set with a new determination.

You wanted your mouth to speak, your mouth moving against his to drive a conversation without words, to express everything you had been holding back. All the things you wish you had ever said. Harry’s hands slid under the hem of your t-shirt, his touch warm and foreign but delicate, and you arched into him, wanting more, needing more, as a curious edge took over.

“Are you sure about this?” Harry asked, his voice strained as he pulled back slightly.

For weeks, your mind had been racing with conflicting thoughts. This was Harry—the boy you had a crush on for years, the one who had been ignoring you for weeks, the one who made your heart race and your blood boil all in one breath. You weren’t sure of anything except that you wanted him, right now, in this dusty supply cabin with the moonlight filtering through the small window.

You needed him.

Because you had never been more scared or excited in your life.

“I’m sure,” you said, your voice steadier than you felt. “Are you?”

“I want you so fucking bad,” and then he kissed you again, more pressing this time, his roaming hands becoming bolder as they explored your body. You responded in kind, tugging at his t-shirt until he broke the kiss long enough to yank it over his head.

The sight of him shirtless—all defined muscles and tattoos you had only caught glimpses of before—made your breath catch, and you ran your curious hands over his chest, tracing the outlines of the ink on his skin, learning him by touch.

“Your turn,” he breathed, his fingers playing with the hem of your shirt.

With a quiet nod, you raised your arms, allowing him to pull your shirt off, and you saw the want in his eyes as they took in the sight of you in your bra, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed.

“You’re beautiful,” he said, his tone awestruck. “So fucking sexy,”

His words sent a rush through you, emboldening you to reach behind and unhook your bra, letting it fall to the floor between you. For a second, you stood there, but Harry’s sharp intake of breath was all you needed to snap you out of your nervous haze, and then his hands were moving to your bare skin, cupping your breasts with a gentleness that contradicted the hunger in his eyes.

“God—I want you so bad,” he admitted, his thumbs brushing over your hard nipples, making your spine straighten. “This. For years.”

“Me too, I want it so bad,” you almost begged, pushing the words out with a hunger you had never heard leave your mouth.

With a breathy laugh that sent a shiver down your spine, Harry lifted you, your legs wrapping tight around his waist as he carried you to a cleared space on one of the tables. His mouth collided with your body in haste, moving to your neck, trailing hot kisses down to your collarbone, then lower, taking one of your nipples between his teeth, then sucking it into his mouth.

You let out a moan, your head falling back as pleasure coursed through you, and your shaky hand fumbled with the button of his jeans, desperate to feel more of him. Even more desperate to see all of him. Harry just as needy lent a helping hand, stepping back just long enough to shed his pants and boxers before helping you out of yours.

And then you were both naked, laid bare before him in the dim light of the supply cabin, years of unspoken desire finally confirmed in this moment. Harry stood between your legs, his hands running up and down your thighs as his eyes devoured you. There was an honesty in his touch that filled the silence with the truth your words had failed to communicate, and as you stared into his eyes, a tiny voice in your head whispered that there was no going back from this moment, that everything would change, and you welcomed it even as butterflies swarmed your stomach.

You felt him in that moment, everything you ever wanted, and your body hummed with it, an electric current of need that overrode the trembling in your limbs. Because no matter how many times you had imagined it, you never truly believed it would happen. His green eyes said it all: you knew this would be worth the wait, that he would be worth the wait.

“Are you on birth control?” he asked his voice horse with an effort to keep hold of his composure.

You nodded as your gaze drifted down his body, “Yes—and I’m clean. You?” You spoke up, trying to stay in the moment, but everything about him threatened to steal you completely.

“Clean,” he almost blurted. “Got tested after my last relationship ended.”

The mention of his past relationships sent a pang of jealousy through you, but it was quickly overshadowed by the realization that this was happening—you and Harry, finally crossing the line you had danced along for years because you knew once you had him, you were never letting go.

Then Harry stepped closer, his eyes never leaving yours, and you held your breath as he positioned himself at your entrance, “Last chance to back out,” he said, concern pinching between his brows.

And for a moment, there was fear, and you exhaled, ready to surrender, to give yourself entirely. Then you wrapped your legs around him, pulling him closer. “I’m not backing out. I want you, Harry. I’ve always wanted you.”

“I’ll go slow...” He promised, and then he was gently pushing into you with a soft groan slipping past his lips, his pace achingly slow as he slid past your opening, and you bit down to bite back your moan.

Because even though your word spoke otherwise, it didn’t stop the fear that was gripping your body, every muscle tightening the second he began to push.

Harry’s eyes stayed trained on yours, watching your every reaction with an intensity that made you feel exposed, cherished in the way every touch was tender, controlled precision as the feeling of him gradually filling you became overwhelming—It wasn’t just the bodily sensation that made your breath catch or made your fingers dig into his shoulders, but it was the thundering realization that this was Harry, finally becoming part of you after eight years of wanting and waiting.

And held onto him as your bodies connected. You knew this would go beyond the physical. Each tiny movement carried the weight of countless summers, missed opportunities, and veiled confessions. When you felt the slight tremor in his arms as he held himself above you, restraining himself, you realized he was putting your comfort before his own desire—a devotion that made your heart swell even as your body adjusted to the newness of him.

Neither of you spoke.

It was only the sounds of your shared breaths and the whispered rustle of skin against skin, yet in the silence, years of longing were finally answered in this perfect, imperfect, beautifully human moment of this bond—it was yours, it was his, and a new history was soon to evolve.

“Fuck,” Harry breathed, his forehead pressed hard against yours as he stilled, fully inside you now. “You feel amazing.”

But you couldn’t form words.

You could only nod, and you wordlessly pulled him closer, urging him to move, and he complied, starting with slow, deep thrusts that had you gasping his name as air flooded your lungs, your nails digging into his shoulders, leaving marks that would remind him of this moment tomorrow.

It was all happening so fast. This new sensation, Harry filling you in ways you had never been filled before. It was pleasure, and it was pain, and all you could think about was how badly you had wanted this, him, in this moment, him inside you, his body pressed to you in an act you had both played out before, but this was different because you had never wanted something so bad in your life.

The taste of his mouth, his lips on yours, his tongue in your mouth, heavy and desperate, and as the pleasure built, Harry’s pace increased, his hips snapping against yours with a need that matched your own, and then one of your hands slipped between your bodies, ready to move with the rhythm taking way.

“Are you ready to come for me,” he nudged, his tone rough with exertion. “I want to feel you come around me.”

Your hand picked up the pace then, his words spurring you on, lighting a fire deep in your belly, knowing the extra stimulation was about to push you over the edge. You could feel your orgasm ascending up your spine, a slow burn that hit with such force that the intensity had you crying out Harry’s name, and he quickly muffled you with his mouth, kissing you deeply as your body pulsed around him. Your orgasm triggered his own, and he buried himself deep inside you, one last hard thrust as his body shuddered, and he pressed you into the table as if he could merge your bodies into one.

And maybe in that moment, you were.

Because every single thought you had ever had seemed to slip away in the stillness that was mounting between your bodies.

For a long moment, you stayed like that, connected in a frenzied stillness, the both of you trying to catch your breath. Harry’s head was buried in the crook of your neck, his breath hot against your skin as your hands traced lazy patterns on his back, not wanting to break the spell of the moment.

Finally, he lifted his head, his eyes meeting yours. The rawness etched across his features sent a pang of tenderness straight through your chest. “That was...”

“Yeah,” you laughed out with a breath, understanding exactly what he couldn’t put into words. “It was.”

Then he kissed you again, softly, this time as he slowly but carefully withdrew, and he broke the kiss to help you down from the table. You both dressed in silence, but it wasn’t the tense silence from before. There was comfort in the shared intimacy, an openness that wasn’t there before as you watched one another reassemble in the sacred moment that could only ever be yours, a moment that no one could ever take away because it could never be undone.

And for once, the silence that stood between you wasn’t a lack of what was or would have been; now it spoke of something different, something looming just over the horizon with endless possibilities now bursting at the seams.

As you finished buttoning your khaki shorts, Harry reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. “I’ve never seen anyone look better in those shorts, by the way. I’ve been eyeing you all summer,” he announced, breaking the silence, and you had to look away because you knew your face was beaming from the compliment.

“What?” He smirked over at you, and you shook your head bashful all of a sudden. “Come here.” He said, hooking his fingers in your belt loops to draw you closer.

When your body collided with him, he pressed a kiss to your forehead, then looked you in the eyes and asked, “What happens now?”

It was the question you had both been avoiding for years—the one that always cast its shadow at the end of every summer. But this time, it would be different. This time, you had both crossed a line that couldn’t be uncrossed.

“I don’t know,” you whispered. “But I don’t want to go back to ignoring each other.”

Harry nodded, his gentle hand still lingering on your cheek. “Me neither. I’m sorry about that, by the way. I really did think it would be easier. It definitely made it worse.”

“It did,” you agreed. “For both of us.”

Then he released a weary breath and gathered you against his chest. The sensation of his arms around you felt like safety, a rightness you had been missing for so long, a sense of belonging. “Can we just... see where this goes? For now? No pressure, no expectations. Just us, figuring it out day by day.”

Gracious for his honesty, you slowly nodded against his chest and breathed him in. “I’d like that.”

As you left your tiny world in the supply cabin, making sure to lock it behind you, The world grew wider. Harry’s gaze held a new meaning as he took your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours. It was a small gesture, but it felt significant, something ordinary taking on a new reality, a giddy sense of hope lengthening your spine as the cool air wisped over your flushed skin, a reminder of what just happened. It wasn’t perfect, and you still felt the fear, but there was promise of something new, something real.

Harry was real.

This was real.

A lingering thrill hung over you both the rest of the night. Patrol seemed to pass in a different kind of silence—a new wonderment emerging with every stolen glance, the secret smiles, or the occasional kiss when you were sure no one was watching. And when you finally returned to your respective cabins as dawn broke, it was with the understanding that something had fundamentally changed between you.

It was like summer had just begun, and for the first time, you allowed yourself to hope that maybe, just maybe, what you and Harry had wouldn’t end when the leaves started to turn.

In the weeks that followed, you lived in the secret fever dream shared between you and Harry. During the day, you maintained a professional distance, focusing on your campers and your responsibilities, but let us not downplay all the stolen glances from across the dining hall, or the brush of his hand against yours during staff meetings, and Jesus, the way his eyes always found yours in a crowd.

They all told a different story.

And the nights—Holy fuck, the nights were spun from stardust and stolen moments, a secret universe belonging only to you two. You knew that as soon as darkness draped its velvet cloak over the camp, you would find each other like magnets drawn across the grounds. Whether officially patrolling together beneath a canopy of twinkling constellations or sneaking away to your special spot by the moonlit lake, you felt it, the magic at the tips of your fingers like you both could bend and stretch time to accommodate your every wish.

Every hour spent in Harry’s arms dissolved into sweet nothings and gentle discoveries as you mapped each other’s hearts and bodies with the enchanted wonder of explorers who had finally, yes, finally, found their promised land. What had lived so long in the realm of dreams now bloomed between your tangled fingers and whispered confessions, now becoming more magical than anything your younger selves could have possibly imagined.

There was so much you didn’t know.

In the quiet hours of the night, nestled against his chest, you had asked about each new tattoo that marked his skin. You watched Harry’s eyes light up as his fingers guided yours over the raised ink, each design carrying its own story of the years you had spent apart, and with every new whispered explanation, you felt the distance of all those separate years contracting as you traced the patterns with your fingertips. Then, your lips would meet his skin with a gentle kiss, silently adding your own meaning to each symbol. These weren’t just tattoos anymore; they were chapters of his life you had missed, now being shared exclusively with you like precious secrets finally coming home.

And this is what it was. Every night, something new was revealed, unpacking each detail of each other willingly, freely, creating a new sanctuary in one another.

He learned that you sang in the shower, that you had a birthmark shaped like a crescent moon on your hip, one he would kiss any chance he got. When you told him that you could name every constellation visible in the summer sky, he rested his head on your bare stomach, and every time you peeled your eyes away from the stars, you saw him looking up at you, his head rising and falling with every gentle breath that left your lungs.

One night, when the conversation turned to dreams, he listened to your dream of becoming a journalist, of traveling the world, of making a difference, and as he pressed your naked bodies together, he whispered, ‘You’ll change the world, you’re already changing mine.” you knew at that moment that you had fallen in love.

As the final week of camp approached, the days seemed to slip through your fingers like water, each sunset stealing the precious hours you could never reclaim, settling over you like a bittersweet yearning already seeping into your bones, at times coloring even the most perfect moments with Harry in gloomy shades of goodbye just knowing that the ending was near.

The summer had been magical—life-changing even—turning you both into versions of yourselves you never knew existed. Those nights spent wrapped in his arms beneath ancient pines had rewritten your understanding of belonging and what it would mean for you moving forward. Every shared secret seemed to build a world that felt both fragile and indestructible all at the same time.

But as the camp calendar thinned and counselors began their whispered goodbyes, that question that had shadowed every summer of your relationship with Harry now loomed impossibly large, casting its long shadow across your happiness, trying to steal the joy you had both worked so hard to cultivate. What would happen when camp ended? When the forest finally gave way to airports and oceans. When this suspended reality came crashing down, forcing you both back into the separate lives you knew were waiting just on the other side of all these little moments.

And as you lay there on the blanket by the lake, far enough from the main camp to ensure the perfect privacy, Harry rested his head in your lap as you mindlessly ran your fingers through his curls. You felt it tugging, goodbye at the forefront of your mind. You couldn’t help the ache knawing at the pit of your stomach even as the stars shone bright above, reflecting on the still water of the lake. The vision was a masterpiece, mirroring back the beauty of another sweet moment you got to share with Harry still in reach.

“What are you thinking about?” Harry asked, his tone soft, like velvet in the quiet night.

You hesitated, scared, not wanting to break the peaceful moment, but you wanted to be brave, “The future,” you finally divulged.

He shifted, sitting up to look at you. “What about it?”

“Camp ends in a week,” you said, finally voicing the fear that had been growing inside you for days. “And then what happens? Do you go back to England? Do I go back to New York, and we just... what? Text occasionally until next summer? If there is a next summer?”

Harry’s brows drew together at this as a quiet moment stretched between you, his eyes searching yours in the moonlight. “Is that what you want?”

“No—” you forced without hesitation. “But I honestly don’t know what the alternative is. Long-distance relationships are hard, Harry. And we’re both starting university in the fall, and—”

He laughed, catching you off guard when he silenced you with a kiss, soft and sweet, and when he pulled back, there was a determination in his eyes that made your heart race. “I got accepted to NYU,” he said quietly. “For their music program.”

For a second, you stared at him unmoving, not sure you had heard him correctly. “Wait? What?”

“I applied last fall, got accepted in the spring. I was going to tell you when camp started, but then I got scared, and I was an asshole...you know, the bit. When I tried to convince myself that what we had was just a summer thing.”

“But it’s definitely not, right?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper. “It never was.”

He smiled then, that cute fucking dimpled smile that had captured your heart years ago. “No, it wasn’t. And I don’t want it to be. I want to see where this goes properly. No more summers only, no more oceans between us.”

Joy bubbled up inside you, a happiness so intense it brought tears to your eyes. “You’re really coming to New York?”

“I am,” he confirmed, wiping away a tear that had escaped down your cheek. “If that’s okay with you.”

You laughed, throwing your arms around him, knocking him to the ground. “Harry! It’s more than okay. It’s perfect.”

He hugged you close, his heart beating steadily against yours as the sense of finally hung above you. “I love you,” he whispered into your hair. “I think I have for years.”

The words rushed over your skin, warm and gentle, as you savored them on your tongue. Words so long unspoken but finally given with such thoughtfulness you almost forgot to say them back. “I love you too, Harry. Always have.”

As you lay there, wrapped in each other’s arms under the vast sky, the future no longer seemed uncertain. It stretched before you, full of possibilities—just knowing Harry would be by your side seemed to chase any fear you had left. You smiled, knowing that while summer had been your beginning, your story was just starting to unfold. This time, when you left Camp Wildwood, you wouldn’t be leaving your heart behind.

Summer was ours, you thought as you listened to the rhythm of Harry’s heartbeat under the stars.

And now, everything else would be too.

A/N: Man! I think I could have gone on forever with these two. I really liked them! I hope you got as much joy as I got out of them. This got a little angsty. But I think it was well worth it! 🙃

Taglist: @sassamanda77 @panini @unfuckwitablenarry @triski73 @haleyannaw @dipmeinhoneyh @lizsogolden @spinninc @iloveharrystyles04

Taglist Open<- My Growing Materlist<- Talk to me<-

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konigbabe · 2 years ago

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PEACH

Pairing: Satoru Gojo x fem!reader Word count: 1.7k Tags/warnings: no y/n; domestic Satoru Gojo; Gojo being a menace of a boyfriend in public; eventual smut (part V only) Summary: Gojo's an ass man. Part of my JJKS2 writing week; also written after being inspired by @greycaelum's ask.

event masterlist • masterlist • navigation • faq • AO3 • ko-fi

It starts off innocently enough.

Even before you’ve got together, Satoru makes it a habit of his own to give your ass an amicable pat for "good luck" or "to bless him". Make it obvious that the young teacher’s rather fond of his fellow teacher’s backside, going as far as openly making up compliments. Spreading heat through your cheeks when his little game of teasing starts.

("Nice derriere, that skirt’s doin’ you wonders," he says, grinning from ear to ear while watching you walking down the hallway with Ijichi, discussing recent curse spirit’s activities.

Your companion’s breath hitches, a blush spreading over his cheeks when you turn around, "what does that mean?")

But you know Satoru too well, and his quirky sense of humor never fails to amuse you; even when you try to keep your face blank whenever he starts talking. Satoru's compliments are akin to a playful serenade. He isn’t holding back; not even in front of his own students.

("Y’know," forearm resting on your shoulder, he leans closer to you, "your tush deserves its own fan club and I'm officially the first member."

You don’t even look at him, rather starring blanky at the fighting students on the field, "Tush?")

II.

As your relationship with Satoru turns intimate and romantic, his playful teasing takes on a new dimension; it becomes a form of worship.

Lying sprawled on the couch, your head cradled by a pillow nestled beneath your chin, you watch the flickering TV screen with a mind adrift, sometimes diverting your gaze to scroll through your phone. Days off are a rarity amongst jujutsu sorcerers. The teachers especially. So you use the day to relax, unwind and let your body mend and rejuvenate after the latest mission.

The tranquil ambiance, however, is fleeting when Satoru returns. Discarding his shoes and jacket with a careless thud, he drops a small paper bag onto the nearest drawer before making a beeline for your relaxed form.

With a wordless playfulness, he plops the full weight of his body onto your back—or more accurately, the back of his head lands snugly on the supple, rounded globes of your butt.

"Satoru," you whine, neck straining as you try to turn around, "you’re way too heavy."

His arm restrains you, slithering around your lower abdomen like a sinuous serpent, fingers kneading the squeezable flesh of your hip. The other hand lands right at the apex of your back thigh, kneading the subtle build before moving upwards on the lower part of your butt.

"Mmh," he huffs, engrossed in massaging your body, too preoccupied to offer a proper response.

You can’t complain either; Satoru is skillful with his fingers, always knowing which spots to apply the right pressure and leaving you in a state of pure relaxation.

"You want me to stop," he asks after a second to which you promptly deny; letting out a contented sigh, prompting a small chuckle from Satoru. "Then I'm glad you're enjoyin’ it," he says, voice carrying a warm sincerity.

III.

The plates clash with each other, sound loud enough to make you think he broke it instead of washing it. A soft, gentle hum swirls around the air as Satoru moves the sponge in circles.

You watch from the arched doorway. Tall, lean frame covering your view of his task, yet the clanking confirms your initial suspicions. Satoru, focused on the chore, wears a well-worn apron over a simple, black shirt, the sleeves rolled up to reveal strong forearms that move with practiced precision.

Staying in place, you shamelessly marvel at the sight; watching him set another plate in the drying rack. Eyes gliding over the broadness of his shoulder to the contour of his waist, they land on their target.

Simple grey sweatpants, a black ribbon belt holding them in place, hide your target from your eyes. But you know where to aim when you start taking cautious, quiet steps toward Satoru.

The attack is quick. Calculated. The impact of your palm sends a loud slapping sound throughout the kitchen. A lively laugh escapes your lips at the same time Satoru’s head turns to the side, eyes locking yours in a frozen stance.

You take off.

He doesn’t rush. Calmly continuing to hum the song, he finishes the last dish and puts it on the rack. One hand turning the faucet off with a dangerous nonchalance, the other reaches for the washing cloth. Drying his hands and taking the apron off, he turns to where you ran off.

You make it to the stairs before you feel Satoru’s grip on your wrist, firm but playful. Tugs you backward; gentle force turning you around, bending you at the waist. Arm deftly sneaking around your shoulders, locking your arms by your sides as he stands tall by your side.

"You really thought you could get away with this, peach?"

His fingers, long and slender, dance over the small of your back. Barely grazing the surface of your skin over the material of your shirt; tracing a tantalizing path down your body.

As you squirm within his firm however gentle grasp, a soft and brief laugh escapes your lips, a mix of nervousness and delight. "I didn't mean it," you admit jovially, the words imbued with a tinge of mischief, "I didn't know it would lend so perfectly."

"You didn’t know," Satoru chortles, leisurely placing his palm flat upon the rounded curve of your pants-covered butt, fingers sinking into the pliant flesh, exerting a measured pressure as if savoring the feeling, "Think you can win this?"

With that, his hand leaves your body–

"Wait, Satoru," you try to swat him away but his hold over your upper body remains unyielding, steadfast, allowing him to orchestrate the next move, "Gojo!"

–and he delivers the first slap; earning a surprised yelp from you, body jolting forward. The sound of the impact reverberates throughout the open space, accompanied by Satoru’s contagious laughter as he lets you go. Hand supporting your weight, making sure you don’t fall flat on your face, you still end up on the ground.

The skin of your butt stings as you palm the flesh.

"You’re in for it now, Satoru Gojo," with a daring grin, you prepare yourself to retaliate. Not now. But the time will come.

The man in question throws his hands in the air, smiling brightly as he takes a step back, "Oh, I’m scared."

IV.

"We just need some edamame, more pickled ginger, and white miso," you list the items from your phone, taking the lead as you and Satoru both stroll through the aisles. He holds the basket, staying a good step behind you with his gaze focused on your back, a smile playing at the corner of his lips–eliciting a suspicious feeling out of you.

Even with the obsidian-tinted glasses covering his eyes, the glimmer of amusement in his gaze hasn't escaped your perceptive senses. A whisper of suspicion trails through your mind; you know he's scheming something.

As you approach the edamame section, you start searching for the perfect bag, seeking the one with the right plumpness and vibrancy.

But before you can grab one, Satoru unexpectedly announces “butt-five” before springing forward with playful exuberance, the resounding clap of his hand meeting your butt reverberating through the store like a percussion note, commanding the attention of nearby shoppers.

Involuntarily, you release a startled, high-pitched yelp—a symphony of surprise and embarrassment entwined. But before any further fallout can unfold, Satoru suppresses the escalating situation, covering your mouth with his warm, large hand, and steering you behind an aisle. Out of sight from curious onlookers.

Holding back his laughter, you feel his chest pressed tightly against your back, vibrating as he silently laughs, palm flat against the lower part of your face, muffling the remnants of your outburst.

"Sorry ‘bout that," he manages to stifle his laughter, an undercurrent of amusement still evident in his voice. "Couldn't resist, y’know?"

Through the slight crack between his fingers and your lips, you muster a muffled threat, "I’m gonna kill you.”

He releases his hand, feigning innocence, his eyes wide with mock surprise.

"What?" he questions you, knowing full well the extent of his antics.

"You’re a dead man walking, Satoru Gojo."

Satoru has you in a vice grip; arms encircling the fat of your thighs with unrelenting strength, fingernails making deep crescent moons into your sensitive skin, setting your whole body aflame. Every inch of your being screams for more as you sink into the mattress, burying your face into the pillows to muffle all sounds of pleasure his mouth is drawing out of you.

He’s merciless. Relentless. Ruthless.

Tongue teasing your soaked slit, lapping hungrily at you like a man starved. The tip of his nose gleaming with your juices as he expertly fucks his tongue inside of you.

In and out. Going as deep as the position allows him.

Pulling your body more into him, burying his face into you; so close that it seems as if he wishes to be swallowed by your cunt whole.

You can barely concentrate before he pulls away; especially when another wave of pleasure washes over you. Wet lips worshipping your hungry bud, thin strands of wetness glistening around it, something he greedily laps up before moving upwards. His wet tongue leaves trails of fire along the fleshy swell of your ass, teeth soon following suit as they bite lightly into the plump globes.

Satoru nibbles at the flesh, one hand sneaking back between your legs to cup your sex, tease the entrance with his fingertip, collecting the wetness before pushing in two fingers. He fills you up, soon adds another finger as his mouth continues its sweet assault on your ass.

"Could eat this ass any day–"

He drives his fingers in and out of you. Fast and unrelenting; massaging your walls while making you gasp as he moves his mouth down, licking and biting at your back thighs before concentrating back on your asscheeks.

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cheynovak · 8 months ago

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Unexpected Melody

Characters: Jensen Ackles x F/Reader Y/N

Summary: Y/N is a talented singer and a longtime friend of Jensen Ackles. When Jensen invites her to one of his shows, she expects to be impressed by his voice—but nothing could have prepared her for the magnetic pull she feels when she sees him on stage.

Warnings: none

English is not my first language

*This story is my own original story, please do not copy my work, reblog/comments/likes are appreciated*

Very quick one shot, enjoy!

You’d known Jensen Ackles for years, ever since your paths had crossed at some charity event in Los Angeles. You were a singer, touring across the country, and he was the star of one of the biggest TV shows on air.

Despite your busy lives, you’d kept in touch, grabbing coffee whenever you found yourselves in the same city. Over the years, a comfortable friendship had developed between you, the kind that made it easy to laugh and even easier to talk. You had always admired his talent, his easy-going charm, and how down-to-earth he remained despite his fame. But that was the extent of it.

Until tonight.

You were in Austin, Texas, for a few days after wrapping up your own tour. Jensen had invited you to one of his shows with his band, Radio Company. You knew he could sing—he’d casually serenaded you during late-night hangouts before—but you’d never seen him perform live. So when he asked you to come, you couldn’t resist.

“C’mon, Y/N,” he’d said with that infectious grin of his. “I want you to see what I’ve been up to.”

So here you were, standing in the crowd at a small, intimate venue, surrounded by fans who had come to see Jensen in a different light.

The air was thick with anticipation as you stood near the front of the stage, surrounded by eager fans. The lights dimmed, and the crowd erupted in cheers. When Jensen appeared, guitar slung across his body, the entire atmosphere shifted. It was as if the world tilted slightly, putting him in the center of it all.

The band started playing, and as Jensen’s voice filled the room, you felt your heart skip a beat. It wasn’t just that he could sing—he owned the stage with a kind of effortless swagger that you had never seen from him before. The rhythm of the music seemed to pulse through you, syncing with the rapid beat of your heart.

Your eyes were glued to him. The way his fingers moved over the strings, how his voice growled in just the right way, and the way he seemed to pour his entire soul into every note. And that smile—God, that smile. It was as if he knew something you didn’t, as if he could see right through you.

When the night sky emerged, you realized you hadn’t looked away from him once. You were completely mesmerized by the way he moved, the way the sweat glistened on his skin under the stage lights. The way his shirt clung to his body, revealing the toned muscles you’d never really paid attention to before.

Your mouth felt dry, and a strange heat spread through you. You tried to shake it off, but the sensation only grew stronger, more insistent. Was this lust? You’d been attracted to people before, sure, but this… this was different. This felt like something more primal, more intense.

And then, as if he could sense your gaze, Jensen’s eyes found yours in the crowd. His expression shifted—softened, almost. The intensity of his gaze made your breath hitch. He held your eyes as he sang the next few lines, and you felt like they were meant just for you.

After what felt like an eternity, but was probably only a few seconds, Jensen’s attention shifted back to the crowd. But the damage was done. Your mind was racing, trying to make sense of the torrent of emotions swirling inside you. Could it be that you were starting to feel something for him? Something more than friendship?

The show continued, but you were barely aware of anything other than Jensen. The way his body moved with the music, the way his voice seemed to wash over you, the way your skin prickled with heat every time he looked your way.

By the time the final song ended, your mind was a jumble of confusion and desire. The crowd cheered as the band took their bows, and you clapped along with them, but your thoughts were somewhere else entirely.

As the lights came up and the crowd began to disperse, you made your way backstage, where Jensen had asked you to meet him after the show. Your heart pounded with each step, unsure of what you would say or how you would act around him now.

When you finally found him, he was toweling off, his shirt now soaked with sweat, his hair messy in the most attractive way possible. He looked up and grinned when he saw you, the easy-going, charming Jensen you knew so well.

“So, what did you think?” he asked, his voice still slightly husky from the performance.

You opened your mouth to speak, but the words caught in your throat. How could you possibly sum up what you were feeling? The attraction, the confusion, the sudden, overwhelming need to be close to him?

“It was… incredible,” you managed to say, hoping he couldn’t hear the tremor in your voice.

Jensen stepped closer, and you could smell the faint scent of his cologne mixed with sweat. It was intoxicating, sending another wave of heat through you. “You sure about that? You look a little… distracted.”

There was a teasing edge to his voice, but his eyes were serious, searching yours as if trying to read your thoughts.

“I’m just—” You hesitated, then took a deep breath, deciding to be honest. “You were amazing, Jensen. I didn’t expect… that.”

His smile widened, and there was something in his expression that made your stomach flip. “I’m glad you liked it. I was hoping you would.”

There it was again—that look. The one that made your pulse quicken and your thoughts spiral. You had seen him flirt before, had even been on the receiving end of it a few times, but this felt different. More intimate. More real.

He stepped even closer, and suddenly, the space between you felt charged with something electric. You could feel the heat radiating off his body, and the urge to reach out and touch him was almost overwhelming.

“Jensen…” you started, your voice softer than you intended.

He didn’t say anything, just waited, his eyes locked on yours, patient but expectant. As if he knew there was more you wanted to say, more you wanted to do, but was giving you the space to make the next move.

You swallowed hard, your mind a chaotic mix of emotions. Was this just physical attraction, heightened by the adrenaline of the performance? Or was it something more? Something you had been blind to until now?

You didn’t know. All you knew was that the sight of him—sweaty, breathless, and so incredibly close—was driving you crazy. You'd only ever dated rockstars never actors, you'd made him clear in the beginning. Was this him making it clear he can be both? No that is ridiculous.

Yet without thinking, you took a step forward, closing the gap between you. You could feel the heat of his body against yours, and the sensation made your skin tingle. Your hand reached out, almost of its own accord, and you placed it on his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart beneath your palm.

He sucked in a breath at your touch, and you looked up at him, seeing the same desire reflected in his eyes.

Before you could second-guess yourself, you leaned in, your lips brushing against his in the faintest of kisses. It was tentative, testing the waters, but the spark it ignited was undeniable.

Jensen responded immediately, his hand coming up to cup the back of your neck as he deepened the kiss. It was everything you hadn’t realized you wanted—intense, consuming, and filled with a passion that took your breath away.

When you finally pulled back, both of you were breathing heavily, your foreheads resting against each other. You searched his eyes, looking for answers, for reassurance, for something that would help you make sense of the storm inside you.

But all you saw was him—Jensen, your friend, your… something more.

“Y/N,” he whispered, his voice rough with emotion. “I’ve wanted this for so long.”

His words sent a jolt of realization through you, and suddenly, everything clicked into place. The reason you couldn’t look away from him tonight, the reason your body felt like it was on fire, the reason you were standing here now, in his arms.

It wasn’t just lust. It was something more. Something you had been too afraid to acknowledge.

Until now.

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communicationthroughlyrics · 9 months ago

Text

You Should Probably Leave

A tumultuous 'situationship' led you to make an ultimatum. Love, or leave.

TW: Brief smut, slightly indecisive Scarlett, alluded cheating, fluff. 18+ only, men DNI.

Word Count: 6.6k

Underneath the summertime dusky sky, Y/N sat underneath the dim porch light of your countryside home. You were swirling the whiskey in your glass, rattling the ice cube against the sides of the frosty glass in your hand, when a familiar voice brought you from your reverie. The blonde woman before you brought a slight smile to your lips as she leaned against the railing that wrapped around your porch.

"You know," she began, her eyes reflecting the amber glow of the lights from inside the house, "I've always liked it out here."

You nodded in silent agreement, the warm evening air brushing against your skin as the first stars began to peek through the purple haze of the night. The crickets had started their nightly serenade, and the distant sound of a train whistle pierced the stillness, a gentle reminder of the world that lay beyond the confines of your small town.

"It's peaceful," you murmured, taking a sip of the amber liquid. The whiskey burned a trail down your throat, leaving a comforting warmth in its wake. Her eyes searched yours, a silent question hanging in the air between you. She knew you had a past filled with shadows, a past that you had only hinted at in the late hours of the night when the whiskey loosened your tongue.

"What can I help you with, Scarlett?" you set the glass on the table beside you, leaning forward towards the enamoring figure before you. Her eyes searched yours, a hint of something unspoken lingering in her gaze. You pretend not to notice her eyes darkening as they darted to your lips. You knew what it meant when she showed up at night, and it usually meant she was gone before sunrise in the morning.

"I don't know," she shrugged, playing with the hem of her shirt. The fabric clung to her skin in the humid air, revealing the outline of her body underneath. "Just felt like... I don't know."

"I know it isn't super late, but it sounds like you have an early morning. You should probably leave," you tell her, reaching back to take another sip of your chosen poison of the night.

Scarlett laughs lightly, her eyes never leaving yours. "You're always so concerned about me," she says, taking a step closer. The scent of her perfume fills the air, a sweet floral scent that's become as familiar as the sound of the crickets in the night.

"Just want to make sure you get home safe, is all. Get a good night's rest." you chuckle, leaning back in your oversized Adirondack chair.

Scarlett smirks, closing the distance between you. She places her hand on your thigh, her touch setting off a spark. "What if I don't want to go home?" she whispers, her eyes full of mischief. "I get plenty of rest while I'm here."

You feel your heart rate spike, but you play it cool. "And what makes you think I'd want you to stay?" You lean in closer, your eyes locked on hers. The air is charged with tension, and you can feel the heat emanating from her body.

Scarlett's smirk widens. "You always say you don't, but I see it in your eyes." She takes another step, and now she's standing right in front of you, her hand coming to rest behind your neck. "You're not fooling anyone, darling."

"You want me to say that I want you here? That I want you to stay?" You challenge her, your voice low and steady. The whiskey had painted a warm haze around the edges of your perception, but the thrill of the moment was sharp and clear.

Scarlett nodded, her fingers playing with the hair at the base of your neck. "Is that so hard for you to admit?" She leaned forward, her lips brushing against your ear. "I know you want me," her voice dropped, a familiar rasp coming through as her proximity invaded your senses.

You swallowed hard, the warmth of her breath sending shivers down your spine. "You know what happens when you stay," you warned, trying to maintain a semblance of control. The air grew thick with anticipation, and the night's silence was only broken by the distant hum of the crickets and the occasional rustle of leaves in the gentle summer breeze.

"Mmmm, and what is that, Y/N?" Scarlett's voice was a seductive purr as she leaned in closer, her eyes never leaving yours. You could feel the heat of her body, the gentle press of her fingers against your neck, and the way she lingered so tantalizingly near.

"You know what happens," you repeat, trying to keep your voice even. But the truth was, she had you. You did want her to stay, despite the mess it could cause. Despite the fact that you knew this dance of push and pull was going to end with one of you hurt.

Scarlett's smile grew more confident, and she leaned in even closer, her nose grazing your jawline. "But do you?" she whispered, her breath hot against your skin. "Do you really know, how this is going to end up?"

You felt your resolve waver, the whiskey whispering sweet nothings in your ear. You knew what she was doing, playing with your vulnerabilities like a fiddle. Yet, you couldn't help the way your pulse quickened at her touch, the way your body leaned into her, craving more. In one last moment of attempted strength, you lift the woman who had perched herself on your lap off, standing as you gently push her away.

"I know what you're doing, Scar. We fall into our typical song and dance, a tangle of limbs all night, and then we act like it's nothing. Fucking nothing. You leave before the sun even comes up, you go back to your plush lifestyle, with your new boyfriend, and I'm left here, alone, with all the feelings and the thoughts, and the emotions."

Scarlett's eyes searched yours, a flicker of something more than just lust passing through them. You knew she felt it too, the deep connection that stretched between you, the one that made you both come back for more, even when you knew you should walk away. Her expression almost seemed hurt at your admission.

"Is that what you think?" she asked, her voice softer than you'd ever heard it. "You think I see you as a good time before the sun rises?"

You took a deep breath, holding her gaze. "That's what it feels like, anymore." You gestured between the two of you, the air thick with the unspoken words that had hovered over your heads for so long. "I can't keep doing this, and pretend like it isn't hurting me."

Scarlett's hand fell away from your neck, and she took a step back, the smirk fading from her face. For a moment, she looked almost... vulnerable. "You know it's complicated," she said, her voice just above a whisper.

"Is it?" You advance, slowly backing her into the railing as you confront her with a newfound vigor. "Is it really, that complicated?"

Scarlett's eyes searched yours, a hint of desperation in them now. She knew you were close to breaking, to telling her to leave for good. "Y/N, you know it is."

You scoff at her, looking up to keep the tears that were making thier way out of your eyes at bay. "No, Scarlett, it isn't. You-" You stab your pointer finger into her sternum, your eyes piercing into her earthy green ones, the glistening in them not missed by you. "You make it complicated. You're the one who decides to come here, play with my heart, and then leave like it's nothing. Like I'm nothing."

Her gaze softens, and she grabs your hand that is still pointing at her. "Y/N, I never-"

"Scarlett, stop. Let me finish." You pull your hand away from her grasp, your voice firm despite the tremble that threatened to take over. "I've been here for you, through everything. And what do I get in return?" You let out a humorless laugh, the pain in your chest growing with each word. "A few stolen moments and the promise of heartache. I don't think you realize, how much I would do for you. How much I could be, for you."

Her eyes searched yours, the green pools filled with a sudden sadness. "I know," she whispered, her voice barely audible over the serenade of the night. "But I can't give you what you want."

"What makes you so sure of that, Scarlett?" You ask, your voice a mix of anger and hurt. "You've never even given us a chance."

Scarlett sighs heavily, her eyes dropping to the floorboards of the porch. "You know why," she murmurs, her thumb tracing a pattern on the railing behind her. "You know I can't just leave him. He's... he's not like you."

You clench your jaw, fighting the urge to argue. You knew she was referring to her famous, yet emotionally vacant, boyfriend. The man who could give her the world, except for the things she truly seemed to crave: love, emotion, a true connection. "But I can give you this," you say, gesturing to the quiet night around you. "This freedom, this connection that we have- doesn't that mean anything to you?"

Scarlett's eyes meet yours again, filled with a longing that mirrors your own. "It does," she admits, her voice barely a whisper. "But I'm scared."

You sigh, understanding the weight of her fear. "Of what? Of us? Of being happy?"

"Of losing everything," she whispers, her eyes brimming with unshed tears. "My family, my career, my life... it's all built on a lie."

"Scar, baby. It's not built on a lie, and you know it. You said it yourself that you fall in love with people, not thier gender."

You take a step closer, your hand reaching out to her again. This time, you cup her cheek, feeling the warmth of her skin under your palm. Her eyes close briefly, and she leans into your touch. "You're not a lie, Scarlett. You're just... afraid of what might happen if you follow your heart."

"But what if my heart is leading me to ruin?" she asks, her voice trembling.

You stroke her cheek gently, your thumb brushing away a tear that had escaped. "What if it's leading you to something real?" you counter, your voice filled with hope. The warmth of your hand seems to steady her, and she opens her eyes to meet your gaze. The silence stretches out between you, filled with the whispers of the night and the unspoken promise of a future you both secretly crave.

"I don't know if I can do it," she admits, her voice cracking. "Leave him, leave all of it behind."

You drop your hand, a sense of melancholy washing over you. "Then maybe you should go," you say, your voice firm but tinged with sadness. "If you can't even consider it, then maybe it's better if you just leave."

Scarlett looks at you with a mix of surprise and pain, as if your words had physically struck her. She opens her mouth to protest, but nothing comes out. You can see the war playing out in her eyes: the desire to stay versus the fear of the unknown. She shifts to sit on the chair opposite yours, a distant look of desperation and contemplation on her face.

The night air is thick with the scent of rain, a sudden shift in the weather's mood that mirrors the tension between you. You watch as the first drops of rain begin to fall, spotting the wood of the porch like tears from the heavens. The whiskey sits forgotten between you, the warmth of its embrace no longer needed as the chilly droplets cool the air.

Scarlett's eyes flick to the growing wet spots on the ground, and she takes a deep, shaky breath. "I am so scared, Y/N," she says finally, her voice a defeated whisper. "What if everything falls apart?"

You kneel next to her, your hands resting on her thighs, rubbing a comforting pattern on them as you direct her gaze to your own. "Scar, everything is going to be okay. You're strong enough to handle whatever comes your way, and if you will let me, I will be right beside you."

The rain starts to pick up, droplets falling faster and heavier, the sound of it hitting the porch roof crescendos around you, mimicking the storm of emotions inside your chest. You take her hand in yours, feeling the electricity that always sparks when your skin touches. "Look at me," you command gently, your thumb tracing circles around her knuckles. "You don't have to decide everything right now."

Scarlett's eyes find yours again, the green pools searching for the answers you're not sure you have. But you know one thing for certain: you can't keep going on like this. "But I can't keep doing this," you repeat, your voice softer this time. "I can't keep letting you in, only to watch you walk away."

Her hand squeezes yours in a silent apology, and she nods. "I know," she whispers, the sound lost in the crescendo of the rain. "I'm sorry."

The words hang in the air, heavy with meaning. You both know she doesn't just mean for that night, but for every night she's come to you, filled with doubt and fear, seeking the solace and comfort that she knows she will find with you. The rain starts to fall harder, and the distant thunder rumbles, a prelude to the storm that's been brewing between you for months.

You stand up, the cold air seeping through your shirt courtesy of a brisk breeze. "Let's go inside," you say, your voice gentle. You don't want her to leave, not when the weather has made such an abrupt change, and you also don't want to push her into making a decision she's not ready for. The porch isn't the place for this conversation anymore, the rain a stark reminder of the mess that your lives have become. You guide her past the threshold that has seen many a passionate embrace, and she knowingly makes her way through the cabin to the living room, where you have a fire stoked and ready to go to combat the night chill.

Scarlett sits on the couch, her eyes focused on the flickering flames as the rain patters against the window. You grab a blanket from the arm of the couch and drape it over her shoulders, taking a seat beside her. The warmth of the fire fills the room, but it doesn't quite warm through the tension overtaking your living room.

You hand her a fresh glass of wine, the burgundy liquid swirling in the crystal glass. "You don't have to decide anything tonight," you tell her, your voice soothing. "No pressure, okay?"

Scarlett takes a sip, the wine a stark contrast to the coolness of the rain outside. She nods, her eyes never leaving the fire. The flames dance in the reflection of her eyes, casting a warm glow across her face. You watch her for a moment, the way the shadows play with the contours of her features, highlighting the sadness etched into her expression.

"I know," she says after a moment, her voice a little stronger now. "But I can't keep doing this to you, Y/N. It's not fair." You could hear the sound of the rain slowly coming to a halt, which meant that it was slowly approaching the time you knew Scarlett would need to leave.

"You can finish your wine," you stand, crossing the room to pour yourself another glass of whiskey. "But you should probably leave before you get too tired." You try to keep your voice casual, despite the turmoil inside you. The rain outside had slowed to a drizzle, the rhythmic pattern against the window a sad backdrop to the conversation.

Scarlett nods, taking another sip. The silence between you is heavier than the dampened air outside. You both know the score, the unspoken words hanging in the air like mist. She's said she's sorry before, but it doesn't change the fact that she'll likely return, seeking refuge from her own life's storm. You've grown accustomed to her late-night visits, but the pain of her inevitable departures never truly lessens.

"Y/N?" you hear a slightly more confident voice echo across the room, turning to face a now standing actress. She approaches you with a determined stride, quickly closing the distance between you both.

"Scar," you start, knowing what very well could happen in this position. You send her a warning glance, telling her not to do this, not after what you have been trying to tell her. "Don't do it, unless it's going to be different."

Scarlett stops, her hand reaching out but not quite touching your arm. She searches your eyes, looking for something, a sign perhaps, a promise of what she so desperately wants to hear. "What if I'm tired of being sorry?" she asks, her voice a mix of hope and defiance. "What if I'm ready to make a change?"

"Then make the change, Scarlett."

Before you could react, she closed the gap between you both, no space between your now warm bodies. Scarlett's eyes searched yours, a fierce determination shining through the sadness. "I'm tired of pretending," she whispers, her breath tickling your neck. "Tired of hiding."

You set your whiskey down, your heart hammering in your chest. "Scar," you murmur, your voice barely a whisper. You're torn between the need to hold her and the fear of what her words might mean.

"Kiss me, Y/N." Scarlett's voice is a soft plea, her eyes wide with hope. You can feel the tremble in her body, the storm of emotions she's holding back.

You take a deep breath, the whiskey fading to the background as you focus solely on her. You've been down this road before, but the desperation in her eyes is something new. You lean in, your breath mingling with hers. The first touch of your lips is gentle, tentative, as if you're afraid she'll vanish like a mirage in the desert heat. But she's real, and she's here, and she's kissing you back with a passion that makes your knees wobble.

Her arms wrap around your neck, pulling you closer, and you give in to the feeling of her body pressed against yours. The fire crackles in the background, casting shadows across the room, but you only see her, feel her. The rain outside has stopped, leaving only the sound of droplets sliding off the leaves of the trees that line the property, a gentle reminder of the world outside that seems so far away at this moment.

The kiss deepens, your hands finding their way to her hips, pulling her closer as if you can somehow meld your bodies together and never let go. Her fingers thread through your hair, and you know that this isn't the end of the night, it's the beginning of something new. A spark of hope ignites in your chest, warming you from the inside out. You pull away briefly, observing her expression as your heart continues to hammer away in your chest.

"What does this mean?" you ask, your voice a mix of hope and fear.

Scarlett's eyes never leave yours as she whispers, "It means I'm taking a chance." She leans in again, her lips brushing against yours. The kiss is full of promise, a silent declaration of intent that sends a shiver down your spine. She pulls away, resting her forehead on yours. "I'm leaving him. I can't pretend anymore."

The words hang in the air, echoing through the cabin. You're stunned, the whiskey forgotten. You tip her chin up, searching her eyes for any hint of doubt. "You're sure?"

Scarlett nods, the fireplace reflecting in her eyes. "More sure than I've ever been about anything. I may be scared, but you're worth it. "

You wrap your arms around her, feeling the weight of her words and the tremble in her body. You know the risk she's taking, the potential backlash she'll face from her family and the media, but also the freedom she'll gain. "I'll be here for you," you whisper, your heart racing with the possibility of a future together.

Scarlett smiles, the light in her eyes something you haven't seen in a long time. She takes a step back, taking your hand in hers. "But tonight, let's just enjoy this," she suggests, tugging you gently towards the stairs. "Let's not think about tomorrow yet."

You tug back, nodding towards the fireplace. She lifts her eyebrow, a silent question as to what you were playing at. You guide her back to the sofa, leaving her alone briefly as you walk over you the wardrobe in the corner, grabbing a few more blankets, and tossing them onto the floor. You grab both of your glasses and bring them to the table in the middle of the room.

"Come relax with me," you motion to her, as you sprawl yourself out on the heavy blanket on the floor. The flickering fire casts a warm glow across the room, making the shadows dance playfully along the walls. You pull her down with you, and she giggles, the sound music to your ears. You both lie there, looking into the fireplace, the heat from the fireplace warming your bodies, the whiskey and wine adding to the haze of comfort that had settled over you.

You lay side by side, her head on your shoulder, your hand playing with the ends of her hair. She startles you as she sets her now empty glass behind you on the coffee table, and lifts herself so she can now straddle your waist. She looks down at you with a fiery determination in her eyes, her hands on either side of your face. "I'm not leaving tonight," she says, and you can feel the finality in her voice.

You swallow, the warmth of the whiskey mixing with the sudden heat in your chest. "I'm looking forward to that," you manage to say, the words thick with anticipation. Scarlett leans down, her lips finding yours again, and you're lost in the taste of her, the feeling of her body against yours. Your hands find their way under her shirt, feeling the warmth of her skin, and the softness of her curves.

Her own hands start to explore, her fingers tracing the lines of your shoulders and chest, sending waves of pleasure through your body. You can feel the urgency in her touch, the desire to claim what she's been denying herself for so long. You pull her closer, deepening the kiss, your hands moving to the back of her neck, the other to her lower back, pressing her into you.

The rain outside had picked back up, a gentle patter against the roof of your cabin, the sound of it a lullaby as you both lay there, lost in each other. The room is filled with the scent of the fireplace and the faint smell of whiskey and wine, a warm, comforting scent that wraps around you like a blanket.

Scarlett's kisses grew more fervent, her hands moving from your chest to the hem of your shirt, her nails scraping against your skin as she pulled it up and over your head. You could feel the excitement building in her, the way her breath hitched when your bare skin met hers, the way she arched into your touch.

You sat up, pulling her with you, your mouths never parting. Your hands slid up her back, feeling the smoothness of her skin as you unclipped her bra, letting it fall to the floor. She gasped as you kissed her neck, her pulse racing under your lips. You could feel the heat between her thighs, and the need to touch her grew almost unbearable.

Scarlett's hands moved to your belt, her eyes never leaving yours. She undid it with a quick flick of her wrist, her confidence growing with every second. You helped her push your jeans down, and she straddled you again, this time in nothing but her damp underwear, the fabric clung to her, leaving nothing to the imagination.

The rain outside grew louder, a symphony of nature's passion that mirrored your own. You kissed her again, hard and desperate, as if you could somehow absorb all of her fear and doubt into yourself. Her hands were in your hair now, pulling you closer, as if she could meld your bodies together and never let go.

Her hips began to rock against yours, a silent plea for more. You slid your hands down to her waist, lifting her slightly so that you could slide her underwear off. She gasped as you brought her back down, her skin now bare against yours. The heat was palpable, the tension in the room thick with anticipation.

Scarlett's eyes searched yours, and you could see the trust she placed in you, the vulnerability she allowed herself to show. You took a moment to appreciate the beauty of the woman before you, the woman who had just handed you her heart, trembling with fear but also hope. You didn't want to rush this, not when it had been building for so long. Sure, you both had had many nights filled with lust and passion, but none were like this. None had the balance of your confessions and feelings hanging like ripe fruit on an undiscovered fruit tree.

You took a deep breath, savoring the moment. The rain outside had turned into a soothing melody, setting the rhythm for your heart beating in sync. You gently laid her down on the plush blanket, the warmth of the fireplace surrounding you both. The flames danced in her eyes, casting a fiery glow across her body as she lay before you, open and bare. You kissed her again, slow and tender, a promise of the love you were both about to explore.

Her legs wrapped around yours, her hands pulling you closer as your bodies met. The sensation of her skin on yours was electrifying, the years of unspoken love and a mutual longing culminating in this singular moment. You moved with a gentle urgency, the rain outside now a steady drumbeat to the crescendo of passion that filled the room. Each kiss, each touch, was a declaration of what you've both been too afraid to say out loud until now.

"Please, Y/N," she moaned, carding her fingers through your hair as you peppered kisses along her collarbone. Your heart was racing, and you could feel hers beating just as fast against your chest.

You knew this was more than just a physical release; it was a declaration of love and trust that you hadn't dared to voice out loud. But as your bodies moved in harmony, it was as if you were speaking a language that transcended words. Your hands roamed over her curves, memorizing every inch of her as if you were afraid she would disappear if you didn't.

Scarlett's breath grew ragged, her eyes never leaving yours as you explored each other. Her nails dug into your back, urging you closer, and you knew that she was feeling the same desperation, the same need to hold on to this moment forever. The fire crackled in the background, throwing warm light across the room, making everything feel more real, more alive. Your kisses and bites slowly worked down her toned body, nipping at the thin skin on her hips, the scent of her arousal becoming more prominent as you lowered yourself to where she needed you most.

You could feel her tremble as your mouth found her core, your tongue tracing the lines of her desire. Her hips bucked up to meet you, and she let out a guttural moan that sent shockwaves through your own body. You savored the taste of her, the sweetness that was uniquely hers, as you brought her closer to the edge. The rain outside had turned into a torrential downpour, the noise of it muffling the sounds of pleasure that filled the cabin. Your tongue probed her wet heat, as you buried your face between her legs.

Scarlett's fingers tangled in your hair, pulling you closer, as her moans grew louder. You could feel her body tighten, her legs quiver around you, and you knew she was close. You increased the pressure, swirling your tongue in a pattern that had her writhing beneath you. Her breath hitched, and she called out your name, the sound like a sweet symphony in the quiet of the night. Her orgasm hit her like a wave, crashing over her body, leaving her trembling and gasping for air. Her firm grip on your tangled locks allowed her to drag you back up her body, her eyes darkening as she took in the appearance of your arousal-soaked chin.

With a smoldering gaze, she rolled you onto your back, the firelight playing across her features like a painter's strokes on a canvas. Her kisses grew more demanding as she worked her way back up to your mouth, her taste lingering on your lips. Straddling you once more, she reached down and touched you, her hand gentle but firm, as if she were learning the secrets of your body for the first time. Her movements grew more urgent as she watched the pleasure flicker in your eyes, her desire building with each stroke of her finger over your throbbing clit.

You couldn't hold back the groan that escaped you, the sound a mix of pleasure and relief. Your hands found her breasts, your thumbs circling the peaks as you arched into her touch. The rain outside had become a cacophony of nature's passion, the perfect soundtrack to the storm of sensation building inside you. Scarlett's hand worked faster, her eyes never leaving yours, as if she could read the very essence of your soul through the window of your gaze.

Her other hand slid down to your waist, her nails digging in as she pushed you closer to the precipice. Your breath grew ragged, and your hips met her touch with an urgency that was both desperate and delicious. The tension coiled tighter and tighter until it snapped, and you were lost in a sea of ecstasy. You cried out, your body shuddering beneath hers as wave after wave of pleasure washed over you.

When the storm of your climax subsided, you both lay there, panting and tangled in the blankets, the fire's warmth the only thing keeping the cold at bay. Scarlett's head rested on your chest, her breathing evening out as she listened to the steady beat of your heart. You carded your fingers through her hair, feeling the softness of the strands between your digits.

"Y/N?" Scarlett's voice was a breathless whisper, her eyes still glazed with the aftermath of passion. She leaned in to kiss you, her lips soft and gentle against yours. The taste of whiskey and the sweetness of her arousal still lingered on you, a heady mix that made her dizzy with desire.

You wrapped your arms around her, holding her tight as the fire continued to crackle in the background. The rain had turned into a soothing lullaby, and the room was filled with the sweet scent of the damp earth outside and the faint musk of your shared passion. You stroked her back, feeling the softness of her skin under your fingertips, the reality of what had just happened slowly sinking in.

"Yes, babe?" you murmur, your voice low and gruff with emotion. Your heart is still racing from the intensity of the moment, your body feeling both sated and hungry for more.

Scarlett shifts, her cheek nuzzling against your skin, sending a shiver down your spine. "I've never felt like this before," she admits, her voice filled with wonder. "I've never felt so alive."

You tighten your grip around her, feeling her heart thud against yours. "Neither have I," you confess, your voice thick with emotion. The rain outside has turned into a gentle pitter-patter, the perfect backdrop for the intimate confession. You know that what you're feeling is real, that the connection between you two is something that can't be denied anymore.

She pulled away from you, her hands resting on either side of your face, her gaze as she looked down at you a mixture of love and determination. "I don't ever want to go back to the way things were," she whispered, her eyes searching yours for understanding. "I want this, us, to be real."

You nodded, your heart swelling with a love so intense it almost hurt. "Me too," you murmured, your thumb brushing over her bottom lip. "This is real, Scar. More real than anything I've ever felt."

"I love you, Y/N." The words spilled from her lips, the weight of them as real as the woman straddling you, her body still flushed from the passionate storm you had just weathered together.

You felt your chest tighten, the gravity of the situation pressing down on you. "I love you too, Scarlett," you whispered back, the words as natural as breathing. The confession felt like a warm embrace around your heart, filling the cracks that doubt had left behind. She leans down, kissing you passionately, her love a beacon that pierces through the fog of fear and doubt. She lay herself back down, her leg draped over your waist as she nestled her head in the crook of your neck.

Scarlett's finger traced random soothing patterns across your bare chest, a soothing movement that was slowly putting you to sleep. "I truly do love you, Y/N," she whispered again, as she nestled closer to you. "And I'm sorry, for everything I've put you through."

You wrapped your arms around her, feeling the warmth of her body against yours. "I know," you murmured, your voice a gentle rumble against her ear. "And I'm not going anywhere."

The fire crackled, the embers casting a warm glow over the two of you as you held each other close, the weight of your confessions a comforting blanket that had been missing for so long. The rain outside had turned into a gentle pitter-patter, a rhythmic lullaby that soothed the both of you.

As the night wore on, you slowly started to fade into slumber. Before you fell completely asleep, you reached over, careful not to jostle the woman who lay asleep on your chest, for the blanket resting on the sofa above you. You covered her, ensuring she was warm and comfortable before finally letting sleep claim you.

The next morning, the sun peeked through the cabin's windows, painting the room with a soft golden light. You awoke to the sound of Scarlett's gentle snores, her body still draped over yours. You felt a smile tug at the corners of your lips as you took in the sight of her. Her hair was a mess, a wild mess of curls and waves that had frizzed in the night's humidity, but she looked more beautiful than any woman had the right to at this ungodly hour. Peering over to the clock on the wall, you squinted as your eyes struggled to focus on the timepiece to see what time it was. You groaned slightly when you read that it was just before 6 am.

Deciding that the early morning was the perfect time to start the day, you gently nudged Scarlett awake. She stirred, her eyes fluttering open to meet yours, and she offered you a sleepy smile that made your heart clench. "Good morning," she murmured, her voice still thick with sleep.

You returned the smile, running your fingers through her hair. "We should get some coffee going," you suggested, the warmth of the fireplace not quite enough to fight off the chill in the air.

Scarlett nodded, stretching languidly, her body arching in a way that made you want to pull her back down into the blankets. But the promise of a new day, a new chapter, was too tantalizing to ignore. You both stood up, your limbs stiff from the cold floor, and made your way to the kitchen. The cabin's interior was still dark, the light from the fireplace fading as the embers grew colder.

The scent of freshly brewed coffee filled the cabin as you both moved around the small kitchen, the early morning light from outside slowly seeping in. You grabbed two mugs from the shelf, the sound of your movements echoing through the quiet space. Scarlett wrapped herself in one of the blankets, the soft fabric draping over her curves like a second skin. She leaned against the counter, watching you with a sleepy smile that made you feel like you could conquer the world.

"Thank you," she murmured, taking the steaming mug you offered her. She took a tentative sip, the warmth seeping into her bones. You could see her relax as the coffee slid down her throat, a silent moan leaving her slightly parted lips as she tried to wake up. She leaned against the counter, her eyes never leaving yours as she drank.

You took a sip of your own, the bitter taste mixing with the sweetness of the moment. You both knew that the sun rising outside signaled a new day, a new beginning for the two of you. The fear and doubt of the night before had been washed away by the storm, leaving only the promise of what was to come.

"What now?" Scarlett asked, her voice still husky from sleep. She set her mug down and stepped closer to you, wrapping her arms around your waist.

You pulled her closer, feeling the warmth of her body seep into yours. "First, I make us breakfast," you said, your voice low and filled with a quiet resolve. "Then we talk."

Scarlett nodded, her eyes searching yours for reassurance. "Okay," she whispered, and you knew she was thinking about the conversation you were about to have. The one that would change everything. You gently grabbed her chin, forcing her to look back at you.

"This isn't a bad talk," you whisper, leaning down and pecking her lips. "We just need to make sure we're on the same page, babe."

Scarlett nods, her eyes fluttering shut for a brief moment before opening them again. She takes a deep breath, her chest rising and falling against yours. "I can get used to that," she whispered back, her body falling further into yours.

You chuckle, leaning down to press another kiss to her forehead. "What would that be?" you ask, your voice filled with warmth. She looks up at you as you pull away, so you can begin to start on breakfast. She tugs you back for one more kiss, a sweet reminder of the night you just shared.

"Well, that, first off," she spoke quietly, a shy smile on her face as she leaned in for another quick kiss. "And hearing you call me babe every morning. And waking up next to you."

You couldn't help but chuckle at her admission, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. "You got it," you reply, placing your mug down and pulling her into a tight embrace. Her head rested on your chest, and you felt her relax even further into you. Kissing the top of her head, you buried your nose in the crown of her head, inhaling her scent as you spoke into the top of her head. "I love you, Scarlett."

The words felt right, more right than they had ever felt before. The warmth of the kitchen wrapped around you as you held her, the smell of coffee, and the sound of the rain outside creating a cozy cocoon of safety.

"I love you too, Y/N."

#communicatethrulyrics #wlw fanfic #lesbian nsft #scarlett johansson smut #scarlett johansson x you #scarlett johansson x fem!reader #scarlett johansson #scarlett johansson x reader

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14dyh · 1 year ago

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hey! im the one who requested 17 with hange and loved it :) was wondering if u could write an other where hange catches feelings for reader, maybe from hanges pov? still angsty cuz hanges afraid of getting rejected, your choice on how it ends:)

Nebula | H.Z.

Pairing: Hange Zoë x gn!reader Summary: Hange recognizes their inner conflict about falling in love with you. Word count: 1.3k A/N: aaeegghh I'm glad you like it! sorry this took so long lmao but i already have that kind of part 2 in mind so here you goooo

Sunlight dappled Hange's desk from where you sat. It was a little too early to get up but you wanted to admire the nebula-shaped flower on Hange's desk. The shape, the edges, and even the colors imitating the swirls of light and the glowing stars and clouds that make a nebula made this flower so fascinating to look at. It felt like a cosmic wonder that could be held in mere human hands.

Hange remained asleep in your bed, cuddling your pillow close. They might have a hangover from last night so you were quick to make the both of you a cup of tea. Hange stirred slightly when you entered the room and closed the door behind you, two cups of tea in both hands before placing it on the table beside you. Hange noticed how much you admire that flower from where you're sitting.

"How long have you been growing this? It's beautiful," you mused, a finger hovering over the flower petals. Long ago, Hange's mind wanted to say but maybe you would ask how long would that be so Hange found a safe answer and said, "Certainly not as long as it would take to form a nebula, but it's been quite long."

Hange smiled, dragging a chair beside where you sat. They couldn't find the courage to tell you that the growing flower was there with every thought of you in mind. It was something that they planned to grow a year ago, convincing themself every day that it was just a testament to the admiration and friendship they have for you. Every day they would watch over that plant, waiting for it to bear a flower.

"It was something I planned a year ago," Hange explained, sipping on the tea you gave them. "Pretty quaint, huh?"

"It is... Looks like a nebula," you observed, looking at the flower from different angles and finding it beautiful all the same.

"That's what I'm aiming for. I'm glad it didn't turn out with a weird shape," Hange chuckled. There was a silent pause, and only the sound of the morning filled the room. Hange tried to tear their eyes from you but couldn't.

"Hey, Y/N?"

"Hm?"

Hange noticed that your eyes were still on the flower and thanked the heavens, you don't seem to notice how they're looking at you.

"Can we go to the ball together?" they asked. "I mean, it's not really our cup of tea but maybe we could have some fun and go to the art museum afterwards. What do you think?"

Hange saw your eyes brighten at the suggestion which made their heart leap.

"Sounds good to me."

Later that evening, both of you attended the simple ball hosted by the school to celebrate the patron it was named after. Hange would excitedly pull you on the dance floor, both of your movements rhyming up with whatever music played. But most importantly, you talked and talked, exchanging ideas one after the other until the event became too commonplace for the both of you. Hange held your hand and sneaked you two towards the exit, giggling to yourselves for successfully escaping the party.

A few people crossed by, sometimes art critics and sometimes lovers. Hange's eyes walked with them and wondered which of the two groups you would both belong to at the end of this night.

You walked together in the tranquil silence of the night. Birds would hum as if in a gentle serenade as Hange held your hand. Neither of you spoke until you reached the art museum you both longed to go to. Eventually, you stepped into the place, taking in the gentle atmosphere of being surrounded by beauty and color, the soft hues of red and pink settled on each painting depicting love and romance.

Hange still remembers the nebula-shaped flower whenever they look at you. They mused over how things in nature are bound to connect in one way or another and how such an infinitely strange world could be thought of just by looking at you. Everything sings and the world loves randomness enough to give it its unique pattern. Hange was deep in thought of you and the universe. They only snapped back in reality as they heard your gentle query.

"Hange, do you perhaps think that love has a place in every art no matter how tiny it may be?" you asked. Hange thought over your question as your head leaned against theirs. They observed how you sat beside them, eyes wandering over the painting before they spoke.

As you walked home together, Hange held your hand tighter this time. Their heart rammed against their chest, their mind broke itself apart by brimming with the thoughts of love, of the universe, of you— all the good things that make up their world.

"I think it is. Love has a place in everything, it is either too much of it or lack of it that makes up an object. And either way, it leads back to love," Hange answered softly. They speak of such love in a room full of romance paintings but they only looked at you with a smile etch across their lips. Your presence made them think of art and science — all the wonders and inventions born because one mind loved another. It may be an idea or a person but it all led back to passion.

This time it would hurt them to deny how much love they have for you from the beginning. Their heart held you dear too much but their mind refused for the sole reason that they don't think they deserve you enough to be in a special place in your heart.

All friendships and acquaintances they made so far flourished out of tolerance and need. People loved them through time and tolerated them because of that love, but it was never like this. To be loved and to be understood rarely comes along together. So Hange's mind racked itself and often wondered how you managed to give them both.

For a long time, their heart clammed up, tricking themself that they would love someone else, that they loved the girl who rejected them, and all because they wanted to avoid this situation. This very minute, they wanted to confess and recognized that their great fear came from being rejected by you. Given a day or week, they could get over any rejection from love or work but feared that your rejection would become their ultimate ruination.

And it was as though you could hear their thoughts as if their heart whispered their love to you. When you both reached the room you shared, Hange was taken aback by the sudden hug from you, their knees turning so weak that they had to grip the edge of the table. The nebula-shaped flower remained still on the desk as if watching things unfold.

The loving embrace you gave them just now triggered their desire to confess so they started slow.

"That flower... I must admit that it was for you. I made it for you," they let out before their throat could clam up. Hange finally found the courage to hug you back at this moment without trembling.

"And it means that I..." they tried to continue with much struggle. "That I..."

That I love you, it was so simple but they couldn't take it out of their mouth.

But somehow you knew, and it reached your heart nonetheless. You pulled away slightly to give them a gentle kiss, your lips careful around theirs. Hange freeze momentarily but something in them awakened their courage to kiss back and hold you tighter. Perhaps it was the relief that you love them as well, or perhaps it was the overjoy of their heart for letting themself open that love to you.

For a long moment, Hange refused to let you go and when they did, their mouth couldn't mutter anything but the love that tormented them for a long time. They wanted to cry or even scream in relief as all their fears became powerless to hold them back. Many things born out of fear ran through their head, thoughts of losing you or ruining the friendship they treasure the most but everything changed, knowing that you love them back. Hange wanted to ask how or why but realized that maybe your heart found true haven within theirs as well.

Hange's heart found delight when you let them embrace you throughout that night. And when the words “I love you too” came from your lips, Hange thought about the universe again and they were sure that right that moment, everything was in synchrony favored towards them.

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staretes · 2 years ago

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finally, before you

synopsis: he's been dreaming about this moment for centuries, but what will happen when he's finally reunited with you? w/c: 0.8k tags: blade x reader, angst, reader was blade's lover when he was yingxing (a bit ooc for blade? idk please tell me if it is) a/n: i posted this by accident twice while it was still cooking in the oven argh. i mostly typed this in school while my teachers were teaching hehe but tbh i think my writing style got alot more loose here which idk if i like... i also dont know how i feel about the flow of this but ack enjoy

blade awakes, face gently cradled by blades of grass. when he looks up, the countless stars glittering in the midnight sky greeted him, just like how they greeted him on those nights when he went to watch the vast starry sky with you. "he didn't come to the luofu to find friends, much less love" he had firmly told himself, but the thought quickly lost itself in you, the stars, and the nights you spent with him. he’d thought he had lost those nights forever.

could it finally be? his heart quickens as he hurried to stand up. the boundless expanse of grasslands that could be found at the edges of the luofu stretched as far as he could see. blade’s scarlet eyes dart frantically across the field, before they landed, with a triumph, on a figure gazing at the stars. you. blade’s heart leaps at the sight and he hastens to reach you. he could wait no longer, he thinks, for every moment for the last seven hundred years, his heart burned in your absence. he had longed to see the sweet smile on your lips and feel your soft skin on his again. “(name),” he called softly, hoping to finally let his gaze rest upon your bright eyes under the stars once again. startled, you whip around to face him. you stand up, and your eyes search him, and he feels your gaze pierce throughout his body, looking him up and down. “yingxing…” you mumble , not sparing his eyes a single glance. blade opens his arms hesitantly, desperate to feel your embrace again. you jolt back, and your trailing gaze lands on his hands. his hands. his hands have slain too many, dripping with the blood of so many innocent lives. he whose hands are burdened with the weight of death and violence, how could he even think of touching you, tainting you with his sin? you turn on your heel and run, farther and farther away from him, and he's left standing alone in an empty sea of grass, watching your body disappearing in the distance, with only the stars twinkling at him mockingly.

blade awakes, drenched in cold sweat, chest heaving, gasping for air. it was just a another dream, he reassures himself amongst shallow breaths. just like the dream from the night before, and the night before that, and the many, many nights before. you’ll love him, forever, no matter what, he tells himself, and it’s this faith that relights the small fire in his heart to reunite with you on that fated day in that promised land.

*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*

the moment had finally arrived.

the chains of life that burdened blade for so long snapped, and his body arched gracefully as his body fell to the ground with a soft thud. the raging fire of mara was put out as he fell deeper into the sweet embrace of death. the peaceful silence enveloped him as he seemed to float, float away, higher and higher, transcending towards the paradise that he had longed for for centuries.

…

blade awakes, face gently cradled by blades of grass. he looks up, and the countless stars greet him once more. on the xianzhou, where death is a distant concept, rumours swirl of the soft melodies heard when one finally finds peace in heaven. blade is sure that it's this tune that serenades him as he stands up slowly, looking around.

he doesn't have to look for long before your figure, sitting on the blanket you once shared with him, watching the stars twinkle before you. you're humming a tune, and he realises that this is the melody that's he's been hearing since he awoke. slowly, he walks towards you.

before he can call out your name, you turn around and meet his gaze. your eyes light up and a radiant smile forms on your lips. mara-ridden centuries of separation have warped and faded blade's memories, but he's still taken aback at how your beauty far exceeds the many versions of you in his dreams. his heart rate quickens as his parched eyes drink the sight before him. "yingxing!" you beam as you stand up. your voice was still as melodious as ever. the sound of his name forming from your lips was the most heavenly song blade has heard in a long time. it seems, you have been eagerly waiting for him too. you open your arms, awaiting his embrace. this is the moment he’s been dreaming of.

his dreams.

blade tries to move, but he finds that the many seeds of doubt planted in his stomach have emerged. imaginary vines shackles his limbs and he finds himself unable to move. he tries to talk, but the thorny weeds have suffocated his throat, leaving no voice to even whisper your name.

after everything he's done, he doesn't deserve to even face you.

so this time, he's the one that turns and flees, further and further away from you.

#[✦ - archives!]#almost tagged this in the fluff tag whoops #blade x reader #blade imagines #blade x you #blade x y/n #blade x gn reader #hsr imagines #hsr x reader #hsr x you #hsr x gender neutral reader #blade angst

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rafecamerons-national-anthem · 7 months ago

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𝒯𝒪 𝐵𝐸 𝒮𝐸𝐸𝒩-𝑅𝒜𝐹𝐸 𝒞𝒜𝑀𝐸𝑅𝒪𝒩

𝕨𝕒𝕣𝕟𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕤𝕞𝕦𝕥

𝕤𝕦𝕞𝕞𝕒𝕣𝕪 Rafe Cameron, a charming yet rebellious Kook, finds himself drawn to Y/N, a spirited Pogue, at an upscale Pogue-Kook mixer. Despite the social boundaries between their worlds, the two form a connection through shared vulnerability and curiosity.

✮♥✮♥✮♥✮♥✮♥✮♥✮♥✮♥✮♥✮♥✮♥✮♥✮✮♥✮♥✮♥✮♥✮♥✮♥✮♥✮♥✮♥✮

The party buzzed with the energy of the young and restless, the air thick with the scent of saltwater and the promise of secrets to be shared. Amongst the mingling crowd, Y/N, a beautiful and fiercely independent Pogue, caught his eye. Her eyes, a deep shade of ocean blue, searched the room with a hint of vulnerability that seemed to beckon him. She looked absolutely radiant in a simple sundress that clung to her curves just enough to make heads turn. Rafe felt an undeniable pull towards her, a mix of curiosity and a sudden desire to know her secrets.

As the night grew warmer, the music grew louder, and the stars above seemed to whisper sweet nothings to the lovers below. Rafe, never one to shy away from a challenge, approached Y/N with a cocktail in hand and a cheeky grin. He knew that Pogues and Kooks didn't often interact beyond the superficial, but something about her drew him in, making him want to break the unspoken rule that had governed their lives since childhood. They danced under the twinkling lights, her laughter as mesmerizing as the crashing waves in the distance.

"You know, Y/N," Rafe said, leaning in closer to be heard over the music, "you're the most beautiful Pogue I've ever seen at one of these parties."

Her cheeks flushed, and she took a sip of her drink, trying to play it cool. "Thanks, Rafe," she replied, her eyes sparkling. "But beauty isn't everything."

Rafe cocked his head to the side, intrigued by her candidness. "What do you mean?"

Y/N took a deep breath, her gaze drifting to the horizon before meeting his again. "I mean, I've never…I've never felt the way I've heard others describe with their partners. It's like something's always missing."

Rafe's playful smile faded, replaced by a look of genuine concern. He knew the struggles Pogues faced when it came to love and pleasure, often being dismissed by the Kooks who saw them as mere playthings. He gently placed his hand on her arm, the warmth of his touch sending shivers down her spine. "You deserve to feel that connection, Y/N. It's not just about the physical. It's about finding someone who sees you, truly sees you."

They moved away from the crowded dance floor to a quieter spot beside the pool, where the only sounds were the gentle lapping of water and the distant serenade of a guitar. Rafe leaned against the railing, his eyes never leaving hers. "Tell me, what does it feel like for you?"

Y/N took another sip of her drink, gathering her thoughts. "It's… empty, I guess. Like I'm going through the motions, but never reaching that peak everyone talks about."

Rafe's gaze softened with understanding. He knew that feeling all too well, the frustration of a desire unfulfilled. He'd had his share of shallow relationships with Kook girls who didn't know the first thing about real passion. He leaned closer to her, his voice a comforting murmur. "Sex is about more than just the act itself. It's about connection, about intimacy. It's about being seen and heard."

Their conversation grew more intimate as the party swirled around them, their words hanging in the air like the scent of the nearby sea. Y/N felt something stir within her that she hadn't felt in a long time, hope. Maybe, just maybe, this Kook understood what she was going through. Rafe's hand brushed against hers, and she felt a spark that she hadn't felt with anyone before.

"I want to show you what it's like to be seen," Rafe whispered, his voice a gentle promise. "To be heard."

Y/N's heart raced at the implication of his words. She looked into his eyes, searching for any sign of insincerity, but all she saw was kindness and a fierce determination. She felt a strange mix of excitement and fear, knowing that this moment could either be incredibly healing or incredibly awkward. But she also knew that she trusted him. So, she took a leap of faith and nodded. "Okay," she breathed.

Rafe led her to a secluded corner of the garden, where the only light was from the soft glow of the moon and the occasional flicker of fireflies. He stopped in front of a large, leafy bush that offered them privacy from prying eyes. Gently, he turned her to face him, placing his hands on her hips and looking into her eyes. "Just relax," he murmured. "We're going to take this slow."

He kissed her, not with the urgency of a boy trying to claim a prize, but with the tenderness of a man who truly cared. His lips moved slowly over hers, teasing and exploring, until she let out a soft sigh and melted into the embrace. His hands began to wander, tracing the curves of her body with a gentle touch that made her skin tingle. He untied the strings of her sundress, letting it fall to the ground, leaving her in nothing but her underwear. Y/N felt a rush of nerves but also a strange sense of empowerment.

They laid down on the cool grass, the dew kissing their bare skin as Rafe peeled away his own shirt. He hovered over her, his eyes searching hers for consent before proceeding. She nodded, feeling more exposed than ever before, but also more alive. His touch grew more deliberate, his hands exploring her body with a finesse that she had never experienced. He kissed her neck, her collarbone, and the swell of her breasts, each touch sending a new wave of pleasure through her.

With a soft moan, Y/N arched her back, allowing him better access. Rafe took his time, his mouth leaving a trail of heat across her skin. His fingers danced over the lace of her underwear, and she could feel the wetness gathering between her thighs. He looked up at her, seeking permission, and she nodded, her cheeks flushed with desire. He slid her panties off, revealing her to the moon's tender gaze.

He eats her pussy with a hunger that was both surprising and incredibly arousing. His tongue traced the outline of her labia, tasting her sweetness, as his hands held her open for him. The sensation was unlike anything she had ever felt, his mouth was a symphony of sensations, alternating between gentle flicks and firm strokes. Y/N's hands found their way into his hair, pulling him closer as she began to lose herself in the feeling. Rafe took his time, savoring her reactions as he explored every inch of her with his tongue.

"Oh god, Rafe," she moaned, her voice trembling.

His tongue delved deeper, circling her clit with the precision of a master artist, and she couldn't help but gasp. The pressure grew, the sensation building like the crescendo of a storm at sea. Her hips rocked against his mouth, desperately seeking release. The world around them faded away, leaving only the two of them and the sweet symphony of pleasure they were creating.

Rafe felt a surge of power knowing he was the first to give her this, to show her what it truly meant to be seen and appreciated. He slid a finger inside her, feeling her tightness clench around him. Her moans grew louder, more frantic, as he pumped gently in rhythm with his mouth. He could sense her approaching the edge, and he didn't want her to fall alone. He moved up her body, his cock now standing at attention, and pressed himself against her.

"Are you ready?" he asked, his voice thick with desire.

Y/N nodded, unable to form coherent words. She was lost in the sensations that Rafe's skilled mouth and hands were creating within her. She felt her orgasm building like a wave ready to crash over her. He positioned himself at her entrance, and with one slow, deliberate thrust, he entered her.

The sensation was overwhelming. Her eyes rolled back as he filled her completely, his movements measured and purposeful. Rafe knew exactly what she needed, and he was determined to give it to her. He kissed her deeply, their tongues mimicking the rhythm of their bodies. His hand found her breast, teasing the nipple into a tight peak as he pushed into her again and again.

Her breath hitched in her throat as she felt the first ripples of pleasure. It was as if he was unlocking something within her that had been trapped for so long. Each stroke brought her closer to the precipice, until she could no longer hold back. Her nails dug into his back as she arched off the ground, crying out his name. The orgasm washed over her like a tidal wave, leaving her trembling and gasping for air.

Rafe paused, watching her face as the pleasure ebbed and flowed. He waited for her to come back to him before he began to move again, his strokes deep and slow. He whispered sweet nothings in her ear, words of praise and adoration that sent shivers down her spine. "You're so beautiful, Y/N. So perfect."

Her legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer as she met his rhythm. He felt the tension building in her body, the way her muscles tightened around him. He knew she was close again. With a gentle nip to her earlobe, he whispered, "Let go for me. I've got you."

Y/N's eyes flew open, the intensity of his gaze sending her over the edge. Her body convulsed with pleasure, and she screamed his name, the sound echoing through the garden. Rafe's own release followed, his body shuddering with the force of it. They stayed intertwined, panting and trembling, as the waves of pleasure subsided.

The silence that followed was filled with the sound of their ragged breathing, the only evidence of the earth-shattering moment they had just shared. Y/N looked up at Rafe, her eyes wide and filled with wonder. He smiled down at her, brushing a stray lock of hair from her face. "How was that?"

Her voice was a hoarse whisper. "It was…it was more than I ever imagined."

Rafe chuckled softly, a sense of pride and satisfaction warming his chest. He kissed her forehead, feeling the rapid beat of her heart under his lips. "I'm glad I could show you, Y/N."

They lay there for a moment longer, their bodies still connected, until the chilly night air began to seep through their skin, reminding them that they weren't alone in the garden. Reluctantly, Rafe pulled out, his eyes never leaving hers as he helped her to her feet. They both took a moment to compose themselves, tucking in shirts and smoothing out dresses. Y/N felt a newfound sense of confidence as she straightened her clothes, a secret smile playing on her lips.

They returned to the party, weaving through the crowd as if nothing had happened. But everything had changed. The way they looked at each other, the electricity that arced between them, was undeniable. They danced again, this time with a shared understanding that went beyond words. Their movements were more fluid, their touches more lingering, as they allowed the music to carry them away.

The night grew late, the party winding down as the last of the guests stumbled home under the watchful eyes of the moon. Rafe and Y/N found themselves at the water's edge, the sound of the waves a gentle backdrop to their whispered confessions. The salty breeze played with their hair, mingling their scents as they stood there, lost in the aftermath of their shared secret.

Y/N leaned against Rafe, her head on his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. "Thank you," she murmured, her voice barely carrying over the whispers of the tide. "For making me feel…seen."

Rafe tightened his arms around her, his heart swelling with affection. "It was my pleasure," he said, his voice low and sincere. "But I think we've started something that can't be contained in just one night."

The implications of his words hung in the air, and Y/N looked up at him, her eyes searching his. They had crossed a line, one that could either strengthen their bond or tear them apart in the harsh light of day. But she didn't want to think about that now. Not when she felt so alive and cherished in his arms.

Rafe kissed the top of her head, his hand caressing her bare shoulder. "Let's not think about tomorrow," he said, his voice a gentle rumble. "Let's just enjoy tonight."

Y/N nodded, snuggling closer to him. They sat in companionable silence for a while, the waves crashing against the shore a soothing lullaby. Rafe felt the tension in his body slowly dissolve as the warmth of her body seeped into his, and he knew that this was the closest he'd ever felt to someone from the Pogue side of the tracks.

Their conversation grew more intimate as the night deepened, sharing secrets and dreams that neither had ever dared to speak aloud. The divide between Kook and Pogue felt like it was slowly dissolving with every shared laugh and whispered confession. Y/N felt a sense of belonging, a feeling she hadn't experienced in a long time.

Rafe's hand slid down her arm, his fingers intertwining with hers. The sensation was electric, sending jolts of excitement through her body. "Do you believe in fate?" he asked, his voice a gentle murmur against the backdrop of the ocean.

Y/N looked up at him, the question catching her off-guard. "What do you mean?"

"I mean," Rafe began, his voice filled with wonder, "do you think there's a reason we found each other tonight, out of all the people in this town?"

Y/N pondered his question, the stars above seemingly holding their breath as they waited for her answer. "I don't know if I believe in fate," she admitted, "but I do know that tonight was…special."

Rafe squeezed her hand gently. "It was," he agreed, his eyes reflecting the moonlight. "But maybe it's not just fate. Maybe it's about breaking down walls and seeing each other for who we really are."

Y/N leaned into him, feeling a sense of peace she hadn't felt in a long time. "Maybe," she murmured, her voice filled with a hint of hope. "But what happens when the sun comes up?"

Rafe sighed, the reality of their world intruding on their stolen moment. "We'll face it together," he assured her. "We're not like everyone else here. We're more than just Kooks and Pogues."

They stood, the sand sticking to their bare feet as they made their way back to the party. The vibe had shifted, the energy of the night morphing from wild and reckless to something softer, more intimate. They slipped back into the crowd, but the party felt different now. The lights were less blinding, the music less deafening. They had found their own rhythm together, one that didn't need the noise and chaos of the party to thrive.

#rafe obx #rafe cameron fanfiction #obx #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe x reader #rafe cameron #rafe outer banks #outerbanks rafe #rafe cameron outer banks #rafe cameron x female reader #obx x reader #obx fic #rafe cameron smut

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onyourhyuck · 2 years ago

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I just want to get high with my lover. | L.DH

— Prologue: “I just wanna ride, get high in the moonlight.” + “I just wanna get high with my lover.”

— Summary: Your boyfriend asked you to sing for him and you did.

— Genre: Romance. Smut Minors DNI. Boyfriend!Haechan x Girlfriend!y/n. Short fic.

— Notes: Inspired by the song Moonlight Kali Uchis.

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Your boyfriend is a lyrical genius no doubt about it. He is a world rising super star who can out sing this earth ten times more, and no matter how many singers you like, your ears always belong to Haechan. Everytime he opens his mouth to say something or to sing out one of his own songs they will never betray him.

One thing Haechan knows about you is that you can actually sing. He loves that your voice was soothing and sounding almost so magical, no one has ever heard you sing, only him. So when it came to a solo album he was preparing to release he asked you to become an anonymous feature.

You couldn’t believe it at first that your boyfriend asked you. It was like a moment of bliss. You were anxious, yes that’s not a question, but you were equally excited and thrilled to sing some songs with your boyfriend.

Now you guys are inside your apartment lounging on the same bed together in each other’s arms, the laptop with haechan’s unreleased songs and files were sitting on the far edge on the bed, but he was so far lost inside you when he is breathing in your loving scent and your soft silky hair touching the top of his bronze beautiful skin. He was just laying with you, but it felt so healing to his heart and body. Without you he would be stressed all the time but when you are around him he is so much calmer. You don’t even realise it though, how much you help and get him through this difficult work everyday.

As you were relaxing in each others arms your lips softly hum a tune that was stuck in your head for a few longing days now, this song truly engulfs your brain taking over it. It was such a pleasuring addictive song too. The lyrics were enticing. Your words came out like a whisper as you sang quietly. “just wanna ride, get high in the moonlight.” You tap your fingers on to your little quiet singing to yourself in the quiet bedroom in your shared apartment.

Donghyuck looks up as he hears you gently sing as if it were a mythical siren serenading him for all of the eternity. The subtle breathing to your chest as you sang echos throughout the rest of your curves and body your head swirls to the left and right continually as you sing some more of the song. “I just wanna get high with my lover.”

He smiles pushing a few strands away from your face as you sang to him made his heart skip so many beats too many to count. “What song is that? It sounds good.” Your eyes smile up at him leaning closer to place soft kisses on his neckline. The kisses you put on his soft neck made him blush internally as you had a habit of doing this. All the time you go for the neck to kiss. He can never get used to such affection from you, it will always make him feel happy but blush like a small teenager.

You reply back softly looking up at him now. “It’s called Moonlight by Kali Uchis. You like it?” Donghyuck wore his glasses and a basic white tee shirt yet he still looks like an outright model — he made everything so simple look so attractive. It was insane. You could stare at him wearing anything.

He’d nod smiling at you. “Sing it to me again darling.”

When your boyfriend asks a nicely how could you refuse and deny his tiny request? You couldn’t. You were at his mercy to please him as much as he asked you to. You sat up a little where your back was supported by the bed frame. Donghyuck sat up with you where his arm stays around your waist pulling you closer awaiting for you to start singing again. You softly push your vocals out relaxing in his arms.

“Forget the small talk, the surface level ain't much that I care for. Putting on my lipgloss I saw you stare from my peripheral. Yeah, baby, it's been a hell of a day but I know a place we can escape.”

Donghyuck smiles hearing you pleasantly sing as if this were nothing but all for him to hear and relax to with his ears. That’s right you were only singing for him and only him. It made a sense of happiness and proudness for you. He surrenders with pride to you. He knows exactly how much of an amazing singer you are — and only he knows this but that’s enough for you. You only need your boyfriend’s acknowledgment in this.

His hands interview with yours to intertwine their fingers together like an envelope nicely folded. His stare was so deep in your eyes it made your breathing become unstable as you were falling so deep into them — his eyes were a dark brown to the point it was pure black. It was a void you wouldn’t mind falling too deep into.

Your bodies were speaking on their own as were your eyes lowering them to his soft heart shape lips that were aching to be kissed right there and then. You couldn’t hold back the urge and your head leans down giving it a soft peck at first. You pull back softly to see his reaction, in which Donghyuck could only smile at how you were careful. Even if you are dating you are always asking for permission, it was a refreshing sight.

He gives you a small nod. No words were needed to say when he held you so close pulling on your strings. When he gave you the answer for a consensual kiss again you pull yourself up from the seat and crawl on his lap straddling him with your legs where he sat in middle of the bed. The kiss you place on his lips was a long stream of light and love; it was a passionate yet sensual kiss that he returns back instantly to you. As you were making out your boyfriend’s hands crawl at your waist pulling under the shirt running his cold fingertips on your warm stomach and hips. You momentarily gasp at the coldness from his hands touching you in the kiss, and a little jolt on your skin turning to goosebumps.

Your shirts made their way off your bodies leaving yourselves to be completely nude in your own presences. Donghyuck’s mouth travels everywhere as it pleases going down your naked chest. The collarbones had wet kisses on them placed letting you shiver in the bedroom’s cold air touching your spine enough to make you arch in the hold. You were closing your eyes shut at each kiss he was putting in your body felt like a randomly bullet piercing your skin — it felt unbelievably good. He was only kissing you but it felt ten times more than that. Eventually his lips met your chest where he gradually plays with your nipples.

The sensitivity always amazes him truthfully. This was like your soft spot he couldn’t help but tug or softly tease you this way and even a single touch to your chest you were squirming in the hold softly moaning. Even your voice coming out as a whimper or a moan was music to his ears.

He carefully kneads your thighs squeezing him where you were sitting on his lap sometimes rubbing and grinding on it when he would teasing you so much, his deep voice trails on your skin like a train on the tracks riding it. “God you’re beautiful. Why don’t you sing for me some more?” His question came out as a surprise to you wondering if you could be able to do it under this pleasuring scenario.

You murmur softly a moan following it after. “You want me to sing… right now?” Donghyuck nods with a hum against your stomach boobs his breathing was poking at your skin when he casually goes to lick your nipples. You squeeze his bare exposed shoulders. “Okay… i’ll sing.”

It made his skin irk unfinished by how well you were obeying him even though you had the choice not to do so. You could easily say no and he would be okay with that answer, but you were constantly doing things to please him. One was your voice that made him pleased to feel and hear. If he only could bathe in your voice everyday he would. If you were the only person on this earth stuck with him he would listen to only you nothing else ever again.

“You’re so good to me.” He pleads looking up at you giving you a soft pleasant kiss on your lips which leaves you stunned for a moment or two. “Let me hear you sing as you ride me then.” He adds as he would push you down into the lap further. You sigh out with your moans, wrapping the arms round his neck.

“Only for you.” You whisper to him.

Who would’ve thought a song you took a liking to could lead to your boyfriend becoming like this?

NCT SMUT FICS

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@onyourhyuck please refer from translating and copyrighting my work thank you! Reblog and follow me for more updates it helps a girl out.

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alstanfordart · 5 months ago

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His Eyes Were Like Galaxies 🌟

"She pauses as she's drawn to his neck. Beneath the thickness of the bottom of his beard, nestled against his dark-blue tie, is a stunning pendant. Outlined in smooth silver, the center contained a fairly large stone. Different bright colors seemed to be swirling in it; red green and blue. Embellished with tiny flecks of white, it was almost illuminated.

"Oh...that is beautiful." she marvels, still staring at the gem, her blue eyes reflecting its twinkling showcase of light as she lowers her face down to get a closer look.

As she gawks at it, its serenade of colors comes streaming out towards her in a seemingly endless parade of stars, moons, planets and nebulae, almost as if she were standing in a vast space, the marketplace and its crowd dissipating amid the brilliant light show."-Reverie

#oc artwork #oc character #maturin the turtle #fantasy art #fantasy character #scifi #book art #reverie #digital art

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hazbincalifornia · 4 months ago

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A Little Poke

Summary:

He wanted Blitz. He wanted Blitz more than anyone in Blitz’s life ever had, wanted to pull him open and suck the marrow from his bones, wanted to tear him to shreds and then sew him back together with golden thread. He also wanted a child. He missed his firstborn deeply, that much was obvious, and it didn’t seem like he had much else going on in his life before Blitz came crashing into it. There was a very tantalizing way to combine the two, and when he asked Stolas to meet up in person again, he could practically hear the panties drop from half the ring away, and he grinned.

Warnings: Explicit content, Breeding kink, Implied mpreg, Pilot au, Mutual Babytrapping

Wordcount: 3380

Ao3 link

They had met once, after Blitz had heard of the prince who spoke to the stars and traveled to Earth to take care of business, and he had decided that there was an opportunity there that needed seizing. Yeah, sure, it was a prince, and that meant if he was caught he’d get himself turned inside out and hung as a pulsing art piece on some wall somewhere, but on the other hand, the prince was almost notoriously a weirdo that nobody liked much, and he really seemed like he needed a good dicking. Plan B of fucking him seemed pretty solid, and Ol’ Reliable was always ready under his pants.

Blitz liked those odds.

He’d staked out the palace for about a week leading up to the heist, and had found out a few things:

First, the prince’s daughter had left home, but she didn’t really seem to come back much. It seemed like this was a fairly recent development, because he kept wandering to her room to sit on her bed and look around, or flipped through a photo album that mostly had the two of them as Blitz adjusted the binoculars and watched as the owl’s feathers drooped. (She was alive, though. He did call her once. Or, rather, he'd tried to call her five times, but she'd only picked up for one of them.)

Secondly, the prince’s wife was a massive bitch. Christ on a stick, frankly Blitz didn’t blame the guy for the amount of alcohol that flowed down his long throat. And they didn’t even get to have makeup sex afterward, so he was left to go sulk in the opposite end of the palace from her.

Thirdly, outside of his job or the party he was dragged to one day, the prince didn’t really seem to leave the house much. He spent most of his free time jerking it in his room to books, draping himself dramatically over his little couch-thing and using magic to jerk it or sticking toys inside himself, and watching soaps. (He also talked to himself, a lot. Satan’s balls, he loved the sound of his voice, narrating shit constantly. Then again, it didn’t seem like had anybody else to blab to, since the kid had flown the coop and the wife wasn’t exactly the listening type.)

Fourth, and finally, Blitz found himself caught up in every little detail as the prince sang while scrubbing a loofah over soaked feathers, the syrupy voice sinking into his chest. Listening to the prince talk and hum and serenade himself for a week had wormed something squirming and hot into his gut. The infinitely long legs and dramatic hands, the feathery softness contrasted with the sharp edges of his beak and claws and eyes… pretty, but dangerous. Very, very dangerous.

So, naturally, when he was caught trying to snatch the book, they fucked, and he enjoyed having nine feet of royal splayed underneath him, as well as hearing that voice aimed at him as reality unraveled.

“Oh, oh, darling, take me apart, fuck me inside out and snap my bones, you are everything-”

Magic swirled around them, sinking into Blitz’s skin as surely as red eyes flashing with white pupils pierced his soul. He was intense, he was manic, and the threat snapped as surely as any whip, but the power Blitz had over this glorious royal beast was intoxicating.

Stolas called, over the next few weeks. Multiple times a day, although a few did have to go to voicemail, which was fine because that meant Blitz could replay them over and over again.

They were mostly long, fucking weird rants all about the things he wanted done to him, or he wanted to do to Blitz. He’d started sending pictures too, and Blitz had never regretted the couch-in-the-living-room setup more, because having to sit in the bathtub to jack off for the fifth day in a row was kinda starting to fuck with his back.

There was the question of the book, of course. Stolas had graciously let him keep it in exchange for carrying out the assassinations that were meant to fall on him to perform- really, everybody won this way. Stolas didn’t have to get his hands dirty, the company could go topside, and IMP could consider him a client since he’d offer to drop them some cash for particularly large kills. (He didn’t really bother to count it outside of the number of bundled wads likely fished out of some safe somewhere, so it usually made up for the smaller ones anyway.)

It wasn’t secure enough, though. It wasn’t going to keep everything the way it was now, not when Stolas might get bored or decide it wasn’t worth it. Not when Stolas might tire of raunchy conversations alone, even though there was far more fire in him in the last month of their calls than there had been in any given moment of the week Blitz had been staking him out.

He also wanted a child. He missed his firstborn deeply, that much was obvious, and it didn’t seem like he had much else going on in his life before Blitz came crashing into it.

There was a very tantalizing way to combine the two, and when he asked Stolas to meet up in person again, he could practically hear the panties drop from half the ring away, and he grinned.

“And then I tear open your rock-hard chest and squeeze your beating heart as you cum so hard you see entire galaxies, soaked and sticky and-“

Blitz’s tail swished as he set the needle against the wrapper, careful to angle it so the gaudy design would hide the hole once it was shifted around a little, then pressed it through, piercing plastic and latex. It was all too easy to let Stolas’s slightly staticky voice from the speaker sink into his brain and imagine the needle was the hot, heavy length he had summoned for when it was his turn to do the fucking.

Pulling it back, Blitz admired his handiwork before tossing it on the pile he’d been planning to bring tonight, dropping his newly free hand to his stomach and giving it a pat.

“You’re going to make daddy very happy if you come home nice and full of owl baby, you got it?” His stomach only gave a little gurgle, but he took it for a yes as he reached for the next condom and readied the needle again with a cheery whistle.

He’d always wanted a big family anyway.

_________

He shimmied up to the balcony- across from the statue in the garden Stolas had of himself, and directly above the table where he’d gotten cake splattered all over and shoved up into his ass after falling into the wife’s tea party. The shocked look on her face before she’d sputtered and tried to swipe at him with her talons had been worth almost as much as the book itself was, even though he’d had to scrub for a while with cheeks pried wide to get all of the frosting out once he’d gotten home.

Anyway. She wasn’t the focus tonight, Stolas- and, hopefully, his filled guts- would be. Blitz hauled himself over the railing, shifting his bag over his shoulder at the closed door. “Stolas!”

“Blitzy!” His voice was slightly muffled, but with a snap of fingers, the handles on the door lit up red and the doors flew wide open to expose the prince who had already laid out on the bed with a rose in his beak and his red robe draped over his shoulders. He narrowed his eyes as he quirked his beak up into a smirk, tail flicking once before settling down as Blitz ventured closer to the bed, then opened his mouth to float the rose over to settle in Blitz��s collar. “Now, to what do I owe the extreme pleasure, darling?”

“I figured that since, y’know, you’re letting us keep the book, I might as well show you how much I appreciate it,” Blitz said, tipping his bag over to let the half-opened box full of condoms spill in front of Stolas like a kicked-over treasure chest, and getting a delighted curl of clawed toes and a slightly squealy hoot to go with it. Bingo.

“Oh, I knew you were a good one, Blitzy,” Stolas practically breathed before reaching forward to snag the back of Blitz’s neck, pulling him down onto the bed- or more specifically, on top of him- and into a kiss. He reached in to grab the rose back and fling it into the air. Petals showered down on them while the kiss deepened, tongues tangling as Blitz allowed himself to sink into the soft-as-fuck feathers and the breath that tasted like mint layered over meat in all the right ways.

Stolas’s hand slid down to squeeze Blitz’s ass, and Blitz returned the favor, tail tangling with the fluffy flesh on his thighs and what little of his feathery butt that he could reach from their awkward position. Stolas didn’t seem to mind, the bit of tail that was brushing his inner thighs pulling a lewd moan from him, and he pulled back from the kiss with a pop.

“I was thinking.”

“Imagine that,” Blitz said, raising an eyebrow, and Stolas gave him a playful swat before rolling over, leaving Blitz pinned underneath him as his long body cast a shadow. His eager mouth seemed to spread across his entire face, tracing a finger down Blitz’s chest and stomach and humming.

“Last time, you were mostly the one fucking me, which was wonderful, but the round where we switched was plenty fun, and I so enjoyed your cute little whimpers. What if we did that again?”

“Hey, they weren’t fucking whimpers!” Blitz protested, but Stolas’s grin just widened.

“They weren’t, hmm?” Another snap of his fingers, and a bubble appeared next to them, with a video of Blitz being plowed directly into the mattress with a glowing gray cock planted deep between his asscheeks and a rather squeaky sound emitting from his body. Blitz smacked Stolas’s ass with his tail even as a flush dotted his cheeks, and got a cackle out of the bird that he smothered in another rough kiss that almost snagged his lip on razor-sharp beak before pulling back.

“You know, I was going to ask for that anyway, but if you’re going to be a fucking smart-ass about it, princey-”

“Oh, I’ll be good! I’ll be very good,” Stolas promised, reaching for the condoms Blitz had brought. He lifted the closest one, sticking it up to his eye as if examining a fancy diamond, then rolling it in his fingers with the index talon pressing against the surface of the wrapper. He dropped his hand into the ruffled-up blanket before turning to look at the rest. “You came expecting to really get your cute little cheeks destroyed, didn’t you?”

“Dabbled with the thought, yeah,” Blitz said. “Plus, since we, y’know, know each other now, you can go in the front if you want. One freshly slicked-up man cave, just for you, one night only.” (It’d be more than one, if he was lucky, but Stolas didn’t have to know that yet.)

Stolas’s head spun around at that, glee lighting up his features and white flames dancing in his eyes. “Really? I can do both?”

“I might even throw in the mouth too if I really like what you do with the place and I think you’ll lay the fuck off without me being able to snap out the big-boy words and just use body signals,” Blitz said, waving a hand. “Impress me.”

“Oh, you’re feeling generous today… I may just have to take advantage,” Stolas purred, twisting a hand as a glow shimmered between his legs. When Blitz glanced down, something long, thick, and particularly spiky in a way that drove chills up his spine was resting between the thighs. “Now, legs open, pet.”

The way the last word was purred drove way more blood to Blitz’s dick and pussy combo than it really should have, but his legs snapped open fast enough to practically snap sparks on the blankets, and Stolas tore the condom wrapper off before rolling it down his cock. A twirl of his wrist summoned a bottle of lube, which he applied generously, and he hummed as he nudged his tip against Blitz’s entrance- which was already dripping. “On three?”

Blitz rolled his eyes. “I'm not a little bitch, just put it in alrEADY-”

Stolas took his words to heart, immediately thrusting forward before Blitz had even finished his sentence and burying half his cock inside with a cry.

“Oh yes, yes, take all of me you greedy little slut, I’m going to turn your pretty little pussy into mulch and then bathe in your blood-”

Blitz’s heels dug into the mattress as Stolas pushed in further, the owl’s hands wrapping around his thighs and digging into the muscle deep enough that spots of black bubbled up from the skin even as the fat cock advanced with spikes tickling the walls like ridges. “F-fuck yeah, just like that-”

“Take it, take all of it.” Stolas snapped his hips further forward, pushing himself in almost to the base as Blitz felt the weight drag against his inner walls. “You’re so good to me, darling, you listen, and you have the cutest little ass and thighs and abs and face that I want to just devour-”

“Do it, take all of me, you horny-ass princey bitch,” Blitz growled out, locking his legs around Stolas’s waist before his tail wound around them to keep them tight. “Take me, claim me, make me yours and keep me.”

All four of Stolas’s eyes bloomed with white in the middle, tiny flames the color of scars. The edges of his feathers shuddered with blood-black and Pride-red as he stared for a moment before slamming forward and closing what little space remained, locking them together with a dual moan as they both only took half a moment to adjust before the thrusting back and forth began.

“You want me to keep you, Blitzy? What about a cage in the basement, or a collar in the corner of this room, always ready for whenever I wanted my precious little pet?”

Blitz shivered, tail twisting tighter around Stolas’s waist before Stolas leaned in close, voice dropping low. “Oh, I have a much better idea. What if I made you gravid?”

“Grav-”

“Round and heavy with child,” Stolas clarified, and Blitz’s tail froze.

He didn’t know, did he?

“Into breeding, then?” he managed, the heel of one hoof digging into Stolas’s back, but it only got a giggle and a narrowing of eyes that edged on that of a kid that had just been handed a knife and a bowl of candy.

“For you, darling? Absolutely.” One hand raised to cup his cheek before giving a pinch. “You would make the most adorable children, and oh, the thought of you fat and swollen with my chicks, oozing milk and cum, constantly crying out for me to fill and fulfill you-” he shuddered, accenting it with another thrust. “You’d be mine, all mine, and I would be all yours.”

At some point, Blitz’s tongue had lolled out, and his pussy was gushing like the acid geysers down in Wrath. Real, real, he could make that real, and right the fuck now. “Fuck, Stolas, fill me up.”

“Oh, you want that, don’t you? You want my owlets, you want this cock to split you open until you’re stuffed with me?”

“Fuck yeah I do, give me all you’ve got, knock me up, get me pregnant.” He could feel the lube easing the way for Stolas’s cock, as well as the latex of the cheapest condom brand he’d could find. Mostly, though, he could feel his brain halfway to getting melted out of his eyeballs because Stolas’s body wasn’t fully in the room with them, the edges bleeding black and ruby into disreality and taking his tail and legs with it. That magic rippling in the air combined with the cock in his pussy had every nerve inside and outside of his skin sparking like nightmare of an electrical extension cord that was powering his apartment building’s entire fifth floor.

Even half-anchored, Stolas’s fingers were like knives, slicing Blitz’s thighs as he thrust with the edges of his form lapping up the blood and singing as they did. Something was chanting ‘mine’, and if it was Stolas, he had a whole choir of the damned playing backup in a way that made Blitz’s soul sing right along with them.

“I want you on this bed where you’ll never fucking leave,” Stolas moaned out, or at least something thereabouts because Blitz’s ears weren’t fully working anymore. He mumbled something that was definitely clever in response moments before the spikes flared out, catching and digging in with a flash of pained ecstasy as his own claws dug through the comforter and his back arched up. “Over and over, always full and fat with child and so very, very fuckable, all mine.”

“You want me?” Blitz managed. Wings of stardust snapped out, an angel of life and death and infinity all at once as all he could focus on were four hypnotizing eyes. When the response came, it hissed down to his very cells.

“Always, my broodmare.”

The orgasm hit Blitz like a mob enforcer in their prime, and Stolas’s followed almost instantly, flooding him with wave after wave after wave after wave of hot, thick cum that burst through the condom and bloated up his stomach, each pulse adding to it- from his regular trim middle to a slight bit of ‘pudge’ to a well and proper cum balloon, heavy and sloshing with every breath.

Blitz collapsed back into the pillows, hearing one rip about a million miles away but physically incapable of giving even half a rat’s ass about it.

Stolas’s form slowly fuzzed back into reality. His feathers were disheveled, flopping out of his coiffed ‘hair’ and over his top eyes.

“Oh, oh Blitzy…” As he pulled back, a flood of jizz came with him, stickying up the sheets even before they could see the broken latex on the end. “That was…”

Blitz held up a finger, pounding on his chest. “One sec…” A wet little burp escaped him, and it tasted salty. When he let his tongue loll out, something white and sticky dripped off the end, and he swiped up a fingerful before wiping it on the bed next to the cum- which it matched. Both of them stared at it for a moment. “You know what, I’m just going to put that down to your weird-as-fuck magic.”

“Fair enough!” Stolas said with a wide smile that twitched slightly on the edges as he lifted the broken condom. “Well, that was unexpected… but it’s too late now!” He kicked the box off the bed. “What do you say we just go in rough and raw for the rest of the night? It’s not like adding them back in would fix anything at this point, after all.”

Blitz glanced at the tampered-with box for only a second before he smirked and wrapped his tail around Stolas’s waist again.

Yeah.

Yeah, this would work just fine.

“Game on.”

#no I don't know why there's a period in the wrong place in that first paragraph on ao3 #it's correct on the editing page but won't fix itself #shadow writes stuff #so I've been reworking my pilot au and decided mutual obsessiveness was more fun #pilot au #spicy text #daddy blitzo #helluva mpreg

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ohmystarrynight · 1 year ago

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The Miller Farm in June

There is no progress without fear! No growth without discomfort! Being so brave and sharing my writing even if it makes me writhe in agony :) enjoy the little blurb/snippets about my oc below the cut if u want ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Cassius lay in bed, thoughts continuing to swirl around in his head as he drifted between sleep and wake. It was a blissfully peaceful state he hardly found himself in. That is, until this summer began.

There was always a gnawing sense of dread or impending doom to be felt with his line of work, an unrelenting knot in his stomach and a racing mind that couldn’t be silenced. Everyone was always out for blood, or revenge or god knows what else. But here…

Here, time was slowed, as if in its own little bubble. It was safe from anything and everything outside of it, untouchable. Here, his work couldn’t possibly interfere. Here, he could breathe.

Clark had made him feel incredibly welcome from the very beginning, of course. Nothing, however, could have prepared Cass for the days after that first semester; of their first meeting. Never before had he laughed so much, nor had he ever truly, properly relaxed. Not once, in his twenty-one years on earth, had he expected anything Clark had in store.

Not the malt shop, not the carnival. Not the cruises in Clark’s truck with Elvis Presley and Patsy Cline and Doris Day and Johnny Mathis coming through a staticky station. No, not a force on earth could have prepared him for the accidental grazes of their hands, nor their proximity when they sat on the tailgate sipping sweet tea, leaving no space between each other. All too often Cassius found himself thinking -more than he should- of the way the summer heat would leave their thighs stuck and faces flushed. The way they would bump together while Clark mindlessly swung his feet as they talked for hours. Or even of the feeling that shot through him the first time Clark had yanked him into an exuberant embrace while he cheered about something on the television. They were watching The Lone Ranger… or something along those lines… Cass could hardly care to recall. The rest of that night was spent staring at his ceiling gnawing on his lip while his heart hammered against his chest. Though he wondered how many of those times were just the sweat and the heat and how much of it really was…. Regardless, the suspense to follow in wake of these ‘accidents’ left Cass reeling. Each night would end the same way, with confusion, fear and guilt writhing and churning and fighting for dominance until he could finally persuade sleep to take over. It wasn’t always just those three, though. Sometimes fondness and warmth joined the mix, along with curiosity and a fascination with it all, which really only lead to confusion again. The cycle continues. Before this summer, if someone had told him any of this would happen, he would have thought them insane. Because for him to have a life like that, well, that sounded a lot like having a home.

Home.

He supposed he did rather think of this place like home. He’d never had a home before, nor a friend, but he could tell Clark was a good one. All because…

Well, because he feels like home.

Cass’s eyes snapped open.

Home??

His heart raced as icy panic shot up his spine, tensing every muscle he had.

You know damned well why this cannot be home. Get ahold of yourself.

What was he doing? What was he thinking? He wasn’t sure what terrified him more: the risks Clark and his mother unknowingly took by insisting he stay with them during the summer, or how easily he gave in to them. Was it all that tempting?

Surely, his will was stronger than a few pleas? An offer of a place to sleep and home-cooked meals?

Stronger surely, than all those hot days spent swimming with Clark in the lake.

Or than the nights spent in the back of his truck bed watching fireflies dance and stars twinkle while crickets and peepers and owls sang their serenades in competition with the radio.

Incredibly selfish. The very idea- the danger you’ve already put them in… that you continue to put them in, every day you spend here!

Cassius ran his shaking hands over his face, scrubbing away whatever lingering feeling of sleep his sudden anxiety neglected. He tossed the covers back, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. The alluring temptation to lay down again almost instantly beckoned him. To simply put his head back on the pillow and be welcomed once more by the serene dreamlike trance he was in just moments earlier. To hell with the day, to hell with this sudden anxiety.

But no.

Opting instead to stand, to somewhat clumsily make his way to the bathroom and splash cold water on his face, Cass pushed the panic and guilt back down inside his chest, somewhere deep and far enough away to allow for a halfway decent rest of his day. It could churn and writhe as much as it would like when he tried to find sleep again later. For now, he was completely. Fine. He owed them that much at minimum.

Clark was a bit more perceptive than Cass really liked, but he would never push Cass into an explanation. That much he could appreciate. But Clark’s mother was a force to be reckoned with. Her radar was truly the most fine-tuned instrument of empathy Cassius had ever encountered, (must be one of those ‘motherly’ things) and he’ll be damned if he gave it any reason to go off. Their generosity and hospitality, their kindness; it was already more than he could afford. There was no need to worry them.

Surely, any threat would have presented itself by now? Wishful thinking, Cass knew, but it was the only thought keeping him from losing it completely, or from up and leaving in the dead of night to lure any impending danger away from his beloved little ‘family’. It wouldn’t be hard to do, of course. And he’d, of course, have no trouble at all leaving any of this behind. The thought of his other life colliding with his new one was just as nauseating as it was dangerous.

Family?

Was that how he thought of them? Who was he kidding? What on god’s green earth had he gotten himself into?

So to the thought he clung, with all of his confusion and guilt and fascination and hope attached. Desperately. Needily.

Selfishly.

#pilot writes!#writing #summer #god this is terrifying #yall seem like lovely people though?? :0 #love me some inner turmoil amirite??????#pilots ocs!

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dc-and-arfrona · 2 years ago

Text

First Date

-----

Jason Todd x GN!Reader

Word Count: 1000+

Type: Fluff

Masterlist

-------- It was a warm evening in Gotham City, where darkness and danger seemed to be ever-present. But tonight, amidst the relentless chaos, there was a glimmer of light. Jason Todd, the Red Hood, nervously stood outside their date's apartment, their heart pounding with anticipation.

As the door opened, revealing their date's beaming smile, Jason's nerves began to spike. Their palms grew clammy, and their breaths came in shallow bursts. The weight of their helmet felt heavier than ever, as if it was a physical manifestation of their anxiety.

Together, they set out on a journey that promised to be unforgettable. As they walked side by side, Jason couldn't help but steal glances at their date, their heart skipping a beat each time their eyes met. It wasn't just the thrill of romance that had their nerves on edge; it was the fear of messing things up, of not being enough for their date.

The bustling city streets provided a chaotic backdrop for their evening, further fueling Jason's unease. Each time they tried to speak, their words stumbled out awkwardly, tangled in a mess of nerves. They fumbled with their sentences, their mind racing to find the right things to say, desperate to make a good impression.

Their footsteps led them to a secluded park, where a blanket of stars adorned the night sky. Jason spread the blanket beneath a towering oak tree, creating a cozy spot for them to unwind and enjoy each other's company.

As they settled down, the gentle breeze carried whispers of affection, swirling around them like a sweet serenade. Jason's fingers nervously toyed with the fabric of their jacket, their heart still fluttering with uncertainty. They worried about saying the wrong thing, about revealing too much or not enough. But with each passing moment, their date's genuine warmth and understanding helped ease their nerves.

After sharing stories and dreams, their laughter mingling with the rustling leaves, Jason suggested a spontaneous detour to the nearby ice cream shop. Their date's eyes sparkled with delight, and they eagerly agreed.

The ice cream shop was a colorful oasis, with a dazzling array of flavors displayed behind a glass counter. Jason's nervousness subsided as they focused on the task at hand—choosing the perfect ice cream flavor. The sheer number of options overwhelmed them, but their date's playful encouragement eased their anxiety.

In the end, they settled on two scoops of different flavors, creating a makeshift tasting session. They shared bites of their ice cream, playfully debating which flavor was the best. Each taste brought smiles and laughter, melting away the remnants of nervousness that clung to Jason's heart.

With ice cream in hand, they strolled back to their cozy spot beneath the oak tree, their fingers intertwined. The cold sweetness mixed with the warmth of their connection, creating a delightful contrast that mirrored the journey they were embarking on together.

As they savored their ice cream, their conversation flowed effortlessly, no longer burdened by nerves. Jason marveled at the ease with which they could be themselves around their date. The simple act of sharing ice cream had transformed their evening into something magical, a shared experience that deepened their connection.

As the night stretched on, the stars above them continued to twinkle, mirroring the twinkle in Jason's eyes. They realized that moments like these, filled with laughter, vulnerability, and the shared joy of an ice cream cone, were what made life worth living.

The taste of sweet memories still lingered on their lips as they made their way to the park's open space, drawn by the soft melodies drifting through the air. A small band had gathered, playing a romantic tune that seemed tailor-made for their evening.

With a renewed sense of confidence, Jason extended their hand, their fingers steady and sure this time. Their date's eyes lit up with excitement as they accepted the invitation, stepping into Jason's embrace. The music guided their movements, and the world around them faded into a blur as they swayed together under the moonlit sky.

As they danced, Jason couldn't help but think back to the ice cream shop. It was a moment of shared delight, a reminder of how quickly nerves could transform into joy. The memory of that laughter and playfulness fueled their steps, allowing them to let go of inhibitions and fully immerse themselves in the moment.

In that enchanting dance, beneath the moon's gentle glow, Jason and their date found solace and connection. The nervousness that once gripped Jason's heart now seemed like a distant memory. Their newfound confidence carried them, their fears replaced by trust and the blossoming promise of something beautiful.

Together, they danced and laughed, their steps in sync with their shared heartbeat. In that moment, amidst the music and moonlight, Jason realized that their first date wasn't just about overcoming nervousness; it was about embracing the unexpected moments of joy and finding the courage to create cherished memories together.

As the night drew to a close, Jason and their date found themselves on a rooftop overlooking the city they both called home. The lights of Gotham twinkled below, a testament to the resilience of the human spirit in the face of darkness.

Silence wrapped around them, but it was a comfortable silence—a silence that spoke volumes. Jason's nervousness was now a distant memory, replaced by a sense of calm and certainty. They turned to their date, their eyes shining with sincerity and gratitude.

"Tonight has been incredible," Jason said, their voice filled with a mix of awe and vulnerability. "I never thought I could feel so at ease with someone. Your presence has a way of melting away my nerves and allowing me to be myself."

Their date's smile blossomed, mirroring the affection in their eyes. "I'm glad to hear that," they replied softly. "It takes courage to let someone in, to allow yourself to be vulnerable. I'm grateful that you took that leap with me. Let's continue this journey together, supporting each other through the chaos of this city."

In that moment, as they sealed their promises with a tender kiss, Jason realized that their nervousness had been a natural part of the process—a testament to the depth of their feelings. And from that point forward, they embraced the uncertainty and vulnerability that came with opening their heart to love.

#dc universe #robin x reader #dc imagine #red hood x reader #jason todd x reader #red hood x you #jason todd imagine #jason todd x you #jason todd x y/n #red hood imagine

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aliypop · 1 year ago

Text

That's Alright for Such a Night

(Rewrite Chapter 4)

Word Count: 3,132

Writers Note: So far I'm enjoying rewriting this

Warning: mostly fluff / Historic Language and Values

Pairing: POC OC x Elvis

Plot: During the Louisiana Hayride two breakout stars meet in a rush only to learn they've dealt their cards in the hands of fate.

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8

Arkansas, 1955

"You need to take your advice." Elvis looked at her, " I mean, Cece, You're so confident in yourself," he brushed his hand against hers, "But sometimes you're not." he shrugged as she pouted.

"That's not true!" Cecelia grumbled,

Elvis sighed as he looked into her eyes; it was like he could see right through her, and she hated it. Cecelia tried hard to hide her emotions, but she wore them clearly on her sleeves, and he knew it because he did too, the beautiful storm in her mind was swirling and whirling around through her eyes, and he could see it. Elvis wanted to do everything he could to take the hurt and worry away, but how, he wondered without damping her shine.

"On stage, you're so sure of yourself and so confident it almost comes off as cocky." Watching as she got silent, he worried that he might have offended her.

I'm not cocky," Cecelia nearly snapped at him.

"Not saying you were." Elvis said, "I'm just saying that you don't have to prove yourself to anyone."

"I'm not trying to." Cecelia turned away from him, and Elvis let out another deep sigh,

Cecelia was stubborn, but so was he, he wasn't going to give up on her,

"You don't have to impress me, not your group, not even your fans, not your mama, and not the damn magazine you're hiding under your comic book."

"I-"

"I can see the tears, Cece." Elvis stood up. Elvis placed his hand on her cheek and rubbed circles on it. Cecelia was fantastic and more than what any paper could say about her.

"So Val."

"Yeah, Pres."

"Tell me what's wrong."

Cecelia took a deep sigh as she then looked up at Elvis; his eyes were as comforting as his touch that she almost leaned into, "When I flip those pages and those hateful things they say about me, like how I'm a sellout, or how I'm abandoning the Negro ways, it tears my heart out." tears running down her face, his thumb catching them and wiping them away.

"I wish I could go up there and sing and be fearless like you." She coughed from her sobbing, "And not have to worry about things like that!"

"You think I'm fearless; I get stage fright when they say to the stage, Elvis Presley." he took a deep breath, "And don't get me started on the papers and what they say about me." He laughed, and all her grey clouds turned to sunlight.

"You have stage fright?"

"Badly."

"What do you do when it gets bad," Cecelia asked as he took her by the hand, his eyes catching a piano in the lobby; the piano was home to him; Elvis could get lost for hours tickling the ivories.

"I get lost in my music," Elvis smiled.

"Any song in particular?"

"Not really." he shrugged,

" What about when the press gets touchy and tough to handle?"

"I get lost in my music even more." patting a seat next to him, Cecelia sat down and laid her head on his shoulder; Elvis then began to play a song she had heard too many times growin up but still loved it so much.

"Why don't you swing down, sweet chariot, stop, and let me ride." Cecelia sang out, giggling; there was nothing more freeing than the gospel, and that was something Elvis could agree to,

"Rock me, lord, rock me, lord, calm and easy. I've got a home on the other side." The two then kept singing, and as the minutes turned into hours, Cecelia was on top of the piano, pretending to serenade him, much like she had seen in the movies,

" Dream a little dream of me." Cecelia sang as Elvis stared at her in awe. This was the side of her he enjoyed, the free spirit, the sweetheart who was shy yet bold, the girl who could sing in a cabaret, and steal every heart but only want one,

"HEY WHAT'S ALL THAT RUCKUS!"

"RUN!"Cecelia and Elvis ran through the lobby with their belongings in hand as he raced her toward his room.

"HEY YOU!"

Cecelia pushed open the door as she pulled Elvis in, both of their laughter intoxicating each other,

"You okay?" Cecelia asked as the two kept laughing, "Yeah, yeah, I'm fine, what about you?" he laughed, sitting on the bed.

Cecelia tried to look everywhere else in the room except at him

His legs spread open, and the slight sheen of sweat, Elvis was giving her a fire. Cecelia knew he could satisfy it. It was just up to her to reach out and taste it if she wanted to, and she wanted to.

"Cece.?"

Her mind wandered to what this forbidden fruit tasted like did he truly want her or-

"Cecelia!"

"Huh!" she jumped, falling into his lap. Elvis laughed as he held her.

"Sorry, Cece." he chuckled, "You were starin' into space." he then leaned in closer, "What were you thinking about?"

"Me? Thinking about something?" Her face flushed as their eyes met again, "I, uh, should get to bed,"

"There's one right here."

"Pres, what are you implying!"

"You can sleep here if you'd like." his charming smile made her heart skip a beat,

"I can sleep over there an-"

"No, you sleep in the bed, I'll sleep over there on the couch." Cecelia smiled,

"You sure," he watched Cecelia as she grabbed a blanket and tried to make do with the feel of the couch,

"I'm completely comfy." she lied through her teeth as she tossed and turned.

Elvis was slowly falling asleep until he heard a thud.

"Cece, the hell was that!"

"Just gettin comfy." she lied as he looked down on the floor, her scarf nearly coming off her head.

"Well...I'm sure the carpets are comfy." he sighed, "But not as much as a bed is..." Cecelia grumbled as she pulled the cover on top of her,

"Cece, why don'tcha just lay here and quit being stubborn."

"I'm not stubborn!" her voice muffled,

"Mhmm..." he nodded, "More stubborn than a jackass."

"You talk to your mama with that mouth, Presley!" she acted shocked,

"I do, an you're switchin' subjects, Valmos!" he leaned in, "So tell me why..."

Cecelia took a deep breath, "Cause I've never really been that close to a guy." she sighed,

Cecelia knew Elvis would see her as just a friend, especially with all his escapades she'd either heard of or damn near witnessed or worse, Snuck off with Midge's car to get his dates all douched out.

"So you never?"

"No... No, I've messed around a bit," she laughed, "I mean, who hasn't, but slept next to a man, well uh. I've never really had any guy around me long enough to do that-" she stopped herself from rambling,

"Well, I won't bite unless I have to." he joked, extending his arm out,

Cecelia reached over for it,

"Is this okay?" she asked, her arm over his waist,

"Y-Yeah Th-that's alright." he blushed, holding her close as she began to yawn,

"Elvis..."

"Hmm..."

"Whys the sun up..."

"Shit..." the two both laughing. Cecelia cuddled in close to Elvis, her head on his chest. She liked the way he felt next to her, and he liked how she smelled of roses. "Cece?" Elvis asked as she softly sighed,

"Yeah, El,"

"N-Nothing doll."

Mississippi September 8th, 1955

"Daphne, Rosa," Midge shouted as the two young women appeared from the dressing room. Midge was holding in her laughter as two young girls were trying their hardest not to cuss out whoever had them dressed as,

"Aw, look if it isn't Howdy Doody!"

"What in the hillbilly hell is this," Rosa grumbled, she hated the way her dress fit, and the white fringe with the black jean material was driving her up a wall,

"This feels like a joke," Daphne sighed, looking at her aunt. Midge thought her outfit was cute, and she had a matching little hat with her scarf around her neck,

"Just smile and play. Hey, where's Cece?"

"Damnit, it's in my eye again, Scotty!" Elvis grumbled. Trying to do his makeup. It was something he was still getting the hang of,

"Maybe try not getting it into your eyes?"

"Geez, thanks." Elvis groaned, "Bill, what color goes with black?"

"Have you tried Topaz? Cosmopolitan says it's a good color for blue eyes, " Cecelia said from the doorway, "Need help, Pres?"

"God does he," Bill said,

"We'll meet you on the stage." Scotty and Bill left Cecelia and Elvis alone,

"Here, you sit down, and I'll make your face up." Elivs sat as he looked up at Cecelia, who took a seat in his lap. Elvis had turned red, but he tried to stay still. Her body was perfect, but so was her soft features. He could see how she was fixing to make him even more handsome.

"Okay, so the first thing you want to remember to do is your lashes." she said, "At least I start with mine first," putting the mascara on him as it began to bring even more life to his features,

"Yeah I know that." he sassed as Cecelia looked down at him,

"Clearly not. You were trying to use it to line your eyes..."

"You uh saw that?"

"Mhmm." She giggled a little, putting the eyeliner pencil under his eye,

"You'll poke my eye with that thing."

"Eh, you'll be fine, just look up." Elvis looked up, and he hadn't fully realized that Cecelia was in her petticoat and whatever else girls wore under their dresses, "Eyes are up here, Pres." she said as she reached for her eyeshadow. It was a nice color, not too light and not too dark, perfect enough for the lights to focus on his eyes,

"Wasn't looking mama," Elvis winked as she playfully hit him,

"Elvis! You've messed up the shadow!" she huffed, "Now I have to smudge the other side." Cecelia took her finger and smudged it a bit. A gasp left her lips, and Elvis laughed.

"My eyes are up here," he leaned in, his lips nearly brushing hers. Cecelia could feel his breath on the top of her lip, and Cecelia wanted to give in,

"I know, they're really pretty-"

"HEY!" Scotty shouted,

the two broke apart as she shook her head. It was like she was hypnotized by Elvis Presley.

"I, uh, I-I..."

"Yeah, me too..."

"Cecelia's going to be late." Midge said, walking out towards Rosa, and Daphane was Cecelia, dressed in red Gangham, "I mean, it's kinda cute." Cecelia smiled, shining off her cowboy boots.

"Of course, your North Carolinian ass would say that." Rosa rolled her eyes. Rosa was mad that Cecelia could pull anything you gave her off.

"Howdy, ladies." a slight laugh coming from backstage

"Johnny Cash," Rosa swooned as Midge groaned, watching her tip her hat to him,

"I thought she hated the outfit," Midge mumbled to herself,

"That's the fourth laugh." Daphne groaned, "We look ridiculous..."

"It's still kinda cute-"

"Well, if it ain't Howdy Doody and the gang." Elvis joked, walking by.

"Did Hank's team send other choices?" Cecelia stormed off.

"Come on, you three sound checks in a minute."

"See, it's ugly, ain't it." Rosa cackled.

"We'd like to bring a special group to perform this last song with us." Elvis smiled. Cecelia could see he was shaking like a leaf up there. He'd told about how this venue was either lively or dead, and God she'd hope they were lively.

"Cecelia and The Garnets," Elvis announced, trying to hold in his laughter from their outfits from earlier, Rosa walked by wearing a red Gingham dress and a red bow in her hair as she waved to the crowd, Scotty nearly drooling.

Daphne soon followed, wearing an all-black skirt with a blouse covered in fringe. Cecelia was walking in with a fiddle in hand with a gingham print wiggle dress and matching shoes, Cheryl had decided to damn near wrap Cecelia in the dress, with the way it clung to her.

Oh, if her mother could see her, she'd been a bit frowned up at her daughter.

"Our newest hit is a Hank Williams song, and I hope you folks enjoy it."

Cecelia focused on Elvis as she remembered what he told her. Cecelia had nothing to prove. All she had to do was get lost in the music, get lost with him, nobody else but him. Dancing next to Elvis, she caught him winking at her, Cecelia had then winked back at him as giggled.

This was a performance she'd cherish.

Florida August 1956

"Make way for Cecelia Valmos and the Garnets," Midge shouted, walking the girls down. Things had been successful for Cecelia, her first musical movie had been released. She had several new hit singles and was the talk of every town she'd toured. Cecelia was making a name for herself, and it was thanks to her manager who was her mother, but there was still a void in her chest, while she was no longer touring with Elvis and the Blue Moon Boys, she had been trying to keep in touch as best as she could with letters and trying to sneak out to rehearsals to see him and miss him every time.

"Can we have your autograph!"

"Can we get a picture!"

Cecelia nodded as she took pictures with her group and the fans. Looking toward the stage. Cecelia saw a familiar silhouette, but she shook her head. She just missed a friend, a friend whom she wanted to tell that it felt horrible every time she'd see him with another girl who wasn't her, or how badly she wanted to be his.

Wearing her now iconic pencil dress, she walked towards the dressing room as she heard the screams of fun from the carnival. Cecelia hadn't been to one in so long. Well not since she had dated that one actor, or was it a singer? Either way, she'd perform her new original hits for her fans and hopefully enjoy the carnival alone with no one to talk to.

"Cil, where are you going!" Daphne asked as they had finished their set,

"Clearing my head." Cecelia sighed, Rosa knew what that meant. Cecelia was overwhelmed or overthinking,

"Well, be back before Mrs. Valmos finds out!" she sighed, seeing they were gone,

Walking toward the carnival, Cecelia had felt lonelier than she ever did.

Seeing the couples and getting stopped for autographs was the life she wanted, but she wanted to be held. She wanted what everyone else had wanted, love,

"Is that Mr. Presley alone, by himself?" Rosa smirked,

"Where!" Cecelia turned to look in his direction.

"Right there by the hall of mirrors," Rosa smiled as her eyes then found Scotty as she joined him.

Cecelia slowly walked towards the building where he was, her shoulders chilly from the off-shoulder dress she was wearing,

"Is this wall taken?"

"U-Uh, no." Elvis responded, "It's a public wall,"

"You come here often?"

"First time here, really?" he huffed, hoping the person talking to him would secretly leave him alone. "You."

"Yeah, it is, pres?" Pres? There was only one person who called him that! As Elvis turned around, he saw Cecelia picking her up off the ground like he was Captain Marvel Jr.

"Cece!"

"El!" she gasped, holding onto him, he was holding her tightly as he peppered kisses all over her face,

"You look amazing, Cece!" he put her back down on the ground as she blushed,

"So do you."

"Would you wanna catch up?"

"I'd love to." Brushing his hand against hers, Cecelia took hold of it. Elvis smiled at her, her head on her shoulder as the two continued to walk together,

"So RCA, huh..." Cecelia looked at him, "That's big time compared to Sun Records, not that I didn't enjoy that era." Elvis bit some of her funnel cake as he then laughed,

Yeah, my manager figured it'd be a good idea."

"This is the same one who's been telling you to change into a family-friendly Elvis?"

Elvis scratched the back of his head, Cecelia chuckled a little,

"Yeah," he sighed,

"Well, I personally like the real Elvis." she mentioned as she blushed, "The frantic movements and the hips," she bit her lip, "Drives me wild."

"I-It does?"

"Yeah, but at least they don't call you Lady Elvis."

"Lady, what?" he burst into laughter.

"Ha ha chalk it up, big guy." She rolled her eyes, pushing him away from her.

"It suits you, Lady Presley." He chuckled, "Speaking of which, are you seeing anyone?" his heart was pounding at his own question,

"No, I'm not actually seeing anyone." Cecelia responded, "Are you?" she asked, seeing him turn red in the face, his cheekbones ever so tempting,

"Actually, for once, I'm not Cece..." He said, carrying the bear, he had won her on his back.

"Would you like to see someone..."

"If that someones you, yes," Elvis smirked, holding her close to him,

"You askin me to be your girl Pres?"

"Yeah, I am," he got down on one knee, "Cecelia Shanel Valmos, will you be my girl?" Cecelia blushed hard as she nodded,

"Yes, I will," picking her up, he began to carry her to a ride,

"You ever been on a Ferris wheel," he asked,

"Pres, you know how I feel about heights like that..."

"You scared?" He leaned his face closer toward hers,

"Yes." she gulped. Elvis could hear Cecelia mumbling, but he had to end the night with something fun, something memorable.

"Cece it ain't that bad it just rocks a little and-"

"It goes to the top, and it stays there..." she grumbled, "Elvis, you will not get me on that damned-"

"You two are next."

"Thing." Cecelia closed her eyes as she felt the ride move. Cecelia was scared with the way she was clinging onto Elvis, though he liked how close she was to him, "It's okay, doll, I gotcha."

"Do you."

"Always will, just look at me."

Cecelia looked into his eyes as she felt that burning yearning feeling for him. He could feel it too. As he felt himself lean in closer toward her, he was greeted by a pair of soft plump lips on top of his own, his hands holding her close.

"Elvis..." her voice rasped out,

"Yes, doll..."

"Kiss me again..." he did so as the carriage of the ride came to a complete stop they could hear their bandmates cheering for them,

"You know somethin,"

"What's that doll..."

"I've been wantin to kiss you since the day we met,"

"You wanna know something, mama?"

"What's that."

"Me too."

Taglist: If you wanna be tagged let me know!

@darkmoviesquotespizza

@sissylittlefeather

@richardslady121

@thegettingbyp2

@presleyenterprise

@sissylittlefeather

@dkayfixates

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@thetaoofzoe

#oc #fanfiction #new stuff #new #romance #elvis presley #new series #elvis fanfiction #elvis x oc #elvis the pelvis #50s elvis #50s #1950s #cecelia valmos #poc oc x elvis #elvispresley #Spotify

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