#Lana Del Rey fanfiction

[synthetic-sadness]

Brooklyn Baby

photo credits to owners on pinterest (mine is green filter edition)

Pairing: Peter Steele x Lana Del Rey

Word Count: 13k

Warnings: 18+, Slight Angst, Self-Esteem issues, Slight NSFW, Slight OOC (really tried not to), Alcohol Issues, Developing Relationship, 90s setting;

I saw that well-known photoshop of them both and couldn’t help myself. I’m a creep, writing about pairings that one person like (me 👈) is my fetish 👹 English is not my native language, this is my first work so it may contain some mistakes. Enjoy ✨🧚‍♀️

NSFW under the next cut 💚

They broke her heart every time when she decided that one of these men is the only one for her, special. She was so naive, even after all of these nasty heartbreaks she somehow stayed pure.

Sad hazel eyes, but there's the light still seen in.

He had a big heart, that had been stitched, almost torn by many of long red nails of gothic and ordinary long-haired «succubuses». He'd been tricked countless times that he didn't even remember correctly the lies they'd been saying to him. And he almost gave up, almost decided to not to fall in with anyone, but still wanted to love and be loved one day.

Big sad green eyes, but there's a hope still seen in.

They met each other at the festival. She had just dropped her new album and a good respected label noticed her and offered a contract. At first she didn't trust them because of her previous record which flopped almost immediately, but in the end decided to say yes. And, after all, Elizabeth got a real jackpot.

He, at the same time, had been promoting Type O's album "Bloody kisses" in tours for two years. Meanwhile, the new material for a next release had been accumulating gradually, but there was no time for a proper work. Moreover, guys felt rather tired not only to write new songs, but to give concerts. Sometimes they couldn't decide what to do: to kill each other, because of living on a bus for a few years together and having enough, or to kill themselves.

And Lizzy, on the other hand, was excited to perform in front of a large number of people. Finally, these years of being in "underground scene" had paid off and she could present her music to various listeners.

But beside a thrill there was a huge fear. Not paralysing, but still.

She used to give concerts in bars and small clubs and the last one also were new to her. Girl was just getting used to its surroundings, to crowd of more than twenty people, when a manager said that she'll attend a festival in Europe. It was huge and she was completely terrified by the thought of many people would be there but tried not think about it a lot.

And the day came.

Her hotel room was comfortable but felt blank because of its colour — white. Not this cold hospital white one which make you feel anxiety, but soothing empty white. There were only a few colourful pieces of furniture: round mirror framed with brown wood, grey carpet and her black suitcase. Nothing special.

There was an odd feeling inside Lizzy's chest when she was looking around her surroundings while preparing clothes and make up for the show. It was that moment, when nothing special is happening, but you know that this scene will imprint in your mind as something meaningful.

It was a feeling. Probably it would be a great concert for her.

The hotel was close to the festival's field so it didn't take too long to reach their destination. And when Elizabeth saw a crowd of people she was not only shocked by the number of them but also by their looks. They were all different, but there were so many metalheads that girl immediately wanted to scream at her manager "What am I going to do here?!"

"Take it easy, it's a mixed crowd," said her tech-guy. "There are enjoyers of indie too. They just decided to bring together alternative sub-genres."

"Oh," was all that she could say.

One hour left before the show and their team chose to have a look around. Elizabeth was examining people, listening to their conversations and small talks, looking at other's bands merch tents and just trying to get use to the festival in general. When she got tired of it, which happened pretty quickly, she went to a backstage for preparing.

And there, turning her head and searching for the right direction, Lizzy happened to bump into someone pretty damn harshly.

A strong and massive hand on her left shoulder stopped her from collapsing onto floor but she still stumbled little bit.

"I'm sorry, I'm just huge for this world and you're kinda petite for mine," said a very tall man in extremely deep voice which impressed Elizabeth and even scared a little bit.

"Oh, that's okay, I'm really clumsy today," she chuckled lightly and fixed her hair reflectively because she had spent a few hours by making the vintage hair-dress and didn't want to ruin it.

"Stay safe," the big man nodded shortly but politely and went into the depths of the backstage area which consisted of black boxes with equipment, many sound-tech and light-tech guys, bands with their groupies (there were few of that girls, but still they were), just people who worked at the festival and all of these folk were hidden from view of audience by many metal bars and tent roof.

"Wow..." Lizzy chuckled again being impressed with his height and voice. What a man, really. He looked like a living example of testosterone.

This short encounter cheered her but the girl still couldn't get rid of this creeping anxious feeling in her lower stomach.

Rest of the time of waiting Elizabeth was watching other bands play. Tried to watch their show attentively and understand their art but after every few minutes she was returning to the only one thought: "Fuck, there is gonna be my turn soon! What am i going to do?!". Even if she liked music the fear of failure was so strong that it almost made her choke and cry.

But the girl pulled herself together and when the time had come and violinists started playing the heartbreaking tune she gladly took a hand of one of her tech-guys, who helped her got on stage because of her high wedge shoes and shaking knees it was so easy to twist an ankle and emabarras oneself.

It was daytime. The sun was shining high in the sky but hidden behind some kind of milky haze, there was no a single cloud and no reminding that it could be blue. Just this milky silk with rare golden sun rays.

And because of it the crowd was clearly seen. Many musicians say that doing shows in an afternoon is hard task and Lizzie was not exception.

All of these tiny people dressed in different clothes and looking like scattered skittles on the floor were clearly visible. But it's no more funny when you start gaze in to their faces and see how they were impatiently waiting to see and hear something good.

Elizabeth let out a great breath, opened her mouth and it all happened by itself. So naturally and so right.

Peter was irritated and tired because they had to perform late in the evening and it was only 3 p.m. He had already done everything that the man usually did when he was bored to death and paralyzed by stage fright: firstly, drank a bottle of wine, then got into small argument with Josh but it wasn't a big deal because they both knew that they all were tired of touring, met some fans, signed their CD's and merch t-shirts and also had a good chat with them.

The only thing that Peter liked in touring was communication with their fans. These people literally were giving away their money that they had earned just to see these "four dead trees" standing on stage. Because of fans and due to the fact that they were buying Type O's albums the group members could live on this money and pay taxes. So, Mr. Steele was so grateful to them, loved them for supporting his art and treated with unlimited respect. Also, the musicians and their fan base had something in general; especially it were sense of humour and music taste.

After spending some time chatting with other bands that guys knew before and getting acquainted with new people, Kenny, Johnny and Peter decided to come closer to the stage and look at the next perfoming person while Josh was somewhere else trying to ease an awful headache.

"Oh, that's something different that we've heard here," said Kenny when violins sounded and then a guitar.

"Yeah, I think it's some kind of an experimental artist or I don't know," the drummer also was interested in the current song.

That's the girl that I had almost crashed today, thought Peter and watched how this particular girl untangled a microphone's wire.

And when she started to sing... Well, Kenny was right: that was something that they hadn't heard before.

The audience was hypnotized and so was the gigantic gothic frontman. People, who were close to him, knew that Peter liked not only hardcore music but something sensual, slow and calm; that's why he had admiration for bands such as Cocteau Twins, Portishead and Dead Can Dance. And this particalr perfomance caught his attention instantly... but not only by music.

She looked like she might glow against the beige sky: in that white lace dress with golden cross on her chest, old-fashioned makeup, red long nails and red hair made into the Priscilla Presley's hairstyle it seemed like the girl came straight from the past. And her tunes also were somewhere between present and the times when people used to worship no God but Hollywood and its platinum blondies in golden dresses. This was particularly noticable in the "National Anthem" song. It was a strange mix, audience didn't understand it fully but they liked the whole experience.

She just came and dragged everyone into her weird but magical portal while tearing apart space and time. And Peter was the first who willingly let her take him away.

"Well, I can say this oficially. She's cool," said Johnny and blew smoke while Kenny was listening carefully to the melody and Peter... well, Peter was smitten and even confounded because the man didn't remember the last time when he was so captivated by music which always had been something intimate to Steele.

He was stunned by her sadness and ethereal melancholia that was running through all of her songs and the set, but what amazed him the most it's "Without You". It was like a painful love letter put into a heartbreaking cry and all of these was sang to the accompaniment of a piano and a violin. The girl was so fragile and feminine at that moment, looking like that "China doll" she sang about that Peter and others wanted to know about whom it was. And he felt desire to be... that man?

Well, yes, she had gotten him charmed by her music, so it was no surpise that the big frontman was impressed by her genuine and shy stage persona, not to mention that she was really beautiful.

The girl looked languid but at the same time her behaviour on stage was adorable: she slowly strolled, smoked from time to time, couldn't keep a cool facade and smiled and giggled when people were cheering and giving other positive reactions. Such a cutie.

"Fuck, this weed doesn't make any sense to my migraine," tired and gloomy Silver finally decided to join them backstage but slowly stopped. "Tell me, am I got so stoned or is there Priscilla Presley on stage?"

"No, it's just some retro girl doing her set," snickered Peter.

"Yeah, and she's kicking asses," the drummer exclaimed. It was always so hilarious to hear him talk and do interviews while other members were around, because unlike them he sounded cheerfully and looked like a golden retriever all the time.

"But slowly," added Hickey.

"Deeply and harder," Steele joked referencing their first album and all of them shared small laugh. It wasn't a joke in general, he really thought that the singer put her heart into the art. And the man was not the only one who came to such conclusion; everyone noticed that as well.

When the set came to the end she blew a kiss and waved under the sound of cheering crowd, looking absolutely happy and terrified at the same time. And there, offstage, people also were clapping for her which immediately made her cheeks burn with heat. She did it, but her body was still shivering uncontrollably.

After a while this blood-sucking feeling was no longer gone and was replaced by a pleasent numbness. There, before the show, everything felt like an eternal nightmare, and now Lizzie was almost floating.

In recording studio she felt at home, but in front of audince it was quite opposite. A disgusting feeling, like someone is peeling your skin, however Lizzie thought that life is short. Once she said that It's important to show yourself in the light that you'd like to be shown and the light she'd like to be shown in is not necessarily in a spotlight in front of everyone else. She loved to introduce herself to people through her lyrics and the way that she thought because she liked it. The way that she looked on stage in front of thousands of people wasn't really her thing but she tried to do her best. But only her closest ones knew that.

And that night, after the stressful but successful perfomance, she decided that examining other musicians may help her learn from them some tiny tips. But the girl stayed not only because of "studying process" — she wanted to find a new music and have a great time because the main difference between gigs and festivals is that that they give you more energy and emotions.

Rock and metal wasn't really her thing but Elizabeth was shocked by an attitude of bands because some of them did a really crazy shit on stage.

And how high was level of her curiosity when she saw that tall guy in a green t-shirt with his band. Of course Lizzie understood that he was some kind of musician when she ran into him but she expected him to play a batshit crazy metal and scream his head off (well, actually he did it few times) but not a slow, dark and extremely sensual heavy tunes. What was more surprising that his persona and deep low voice were created for this type of music which the girl started to enjoy sincerely.

She had a great opportunity to see the man from head to toe: huge, pale and muscular, with long wavy black hair, tattoos on each biceps and beautiful manly vocal which amazed with its sensuality and low tones at once. His sharp, almost sculptured face features with sullen look on them were seen from a distance and after all it was no surprise that women who were backstage decided to watch the show. Other guys in the band were no less cool, they even complemented each other which was amazing, but all of the focus was on the gigantic frontman-vampire with bass guitar on chain strap and a bottle of wine on a box case next to a mic stand, who rolled letter "R" and was making sarcastic jokes with crowd. And what about the instrument Lizzie couldn't keep her giggles when she noticed how small it looked in his hands. What an insane view.

But what was more insane that in the end of the set he just tore the guitar strings with bare hands and silently walked away from the stage with band members. That was a sight that Elizabeth would remember for a long time.

The night was in a full swing, only few bands were about to perform but most of people and musicians were partying hard and enjoying themselves. Type O's were not exception. Some guys decided to throw a party in their bus and it was full of drunk folk dancing, drinking and rocking it from side to side with their actions. When Josh saw this shit he rolled his eyes and decided to have a walk at least untill there would be ten strangers and calm his aching head.

His dear childhood friend was also an introverted soul but sometimes touring routine had been killing him and Peter had no choice but to surrender. And when after few glasses of red wine he felt that he was gonna to throw up because of blaring loud music and flirtatious laugh of women who were trying to hook up with him or other members, the man stood up and walked out of the hellish tour bus.

Chilly night air was like a blessing after that stinky transport that he was sick and tired of being in for two years. Why did he quit his job at the Park Department? Why was he such an idiot? He constantly reaproached himself — especially after drinking his favourite drink.

Peter slowly strolled looking at cheerful and drunk people illuminated with colorful spotlights, feeling how the ground was shaking under his legs with every beat of drums on stage. He loved music with all of his heart but sometimes such atmosphere annoyed him and because of it he decided to go somewhere quieter and less crowded.

And there she was. Standing leg-crossed with a cigarette between delicate long fingers, looking thoughtfully somewhere to the left while many colorful rays of spotlights were flashing behind her back. In that white lace dress she looked like a vision, a ghost, an angel. Completely didn't fit into the surroundings.

Peter really was stunned by her (and her bad habit that he had a fetish for) and even though he wasn't a confident man he thought that he would be a total fool if he wouldn't say few words to her. And he approached her.

"Hi, I'm that guy who almost killed you today," said Peter with a little smirk on his face.

"And I'm the dwarf from your world," she smiled. She had such a cute voice in everyday life, he thought.

"Just wanted to say that your perfomance was great, same with your music," his words were really genuine.

"Oooh, thanks..." the girl instantly turned color and added, "You guys were cool as well."

"Nah, we suck but it's not blood," he brushed off and she started laughing and her giggling sounded light and gentle like a crystal bell.

"Well, I can't agree with you," the fragile singer playfully shaked her head.

"Then you definitely didn't see us,"

"I may be blind but definitely not deaf," she said and sucked in the smoke again.

"Well, I can't agree with you," Peter flashed her a toothy grin and even though she laughed he noticed that his fangs caught her out off guard for a second.

But the moment was interrupted unexpectedly by a man, who seemed to be disturbed by something. He ran up to them quickly and made both worry.

"Gosh, I had been looking for you everywhere!" Marc, who was Type O's bus driver in his late forties, exclaimed wearily to the gigantic frontman while being completely out of breath.

"What happened?"

"Kenny, this bloody asshole, got so hammered that decided to smash some guy's face!" the man with funny mustache and round belly had been visibly irritated. "Only you can help us to pull him away from this poor man."

Everyone knew that Kenny Hickey was a nice fellow but sometimes his demons were making people doubt this statement.

Peter suddenly felt embarrassed because their guitarist turned a complete prick mode on and because he had to leave this lovely stranger in order to save friend's ass.

"Can he deal with his mess himself?" he grumbled but tried not to show how really annoyed he was. "I'm tired of being his bodyguard."

"You know that i don't want to disturb you, Pete, but you're the only one here who can break them up," Marc was right; Steele had enough strength to hold some furious fighter like it was an angry small chihuahua. "This motherfucker is short but very prehensile!"

And that also was true.

"It's okay, you shall go and help your friend," the girl assured him that everything was fine. But in reality he didn't want to leave her, not like that.

"Yeah, you are right. I'm sorry. Thank you for a short but nice chat," Peter nodded to her politely and Marc did the same but more eagerly. "See you."

"Bye," she waved them goodbye knowing well that she and this guy Pete would hardly meet again. And when the big and the small silhouettes gradually had faded from sight over the deep blue sky and moist chilly night air Elizabeth dropped a finished cigarette to the ground, stomped it and felt how her body and mind were drained after a festival's debut.

The girl turned and walked away with one wish: to fall asleep under hotel's soft blankets.

Five months had passed and label's bosses decided that it was enough for Type O Negative to be on tour. After all they still needed to record a new album which of course shall become a commercial success in the end. That's funny how many people think that being well-known musician or other type of artist is so easy: you do what you like, you get paid for it. It certainly gives some privileges but in reality creation of a product of art contains of endless pressure from the record label, self-doubting in your abilities, creative crisis, deadlines, disagreement with your ideas of band members, hours and hours of recording sessions where one single mistake or a badly played note make you return to the begininng, and neverending stress makes you lose it. And you can't leave this game so easily because you had signed a contract for a few music albums.

Peter quickly disappointed when he found out about the music industry when he was 24. Now, being a 32-year-old man he got used to it but still didn't fully accept its rules and didn't wanted to be led. Their work in a studio usually wasn't going well; everytime Pete cursed the day when he left his job but repeatedly admitted that he was a masochist.

Because of their common love of misery guys from Type O's were making the new album but after a month of continuous work they started to take few a days off. And you can only imagine how "happy" was Peter when he found out that his whole weekend he had to spend under the hood of his car which the man affectionately called "The Beast": a huge black machine with no bumpers but large wooden planks, big bright lights on the top of it and a truck horn. This "monster" had been both repainted and repaired many times by Peter himself and many repairings were done for the purpose of upgrading. Unfortunately that time it needed a a real repairing.

But even though being an excellent handyman that he was, that time Mr. Steele was too exhausted to do fixing himself. And a solution was simple: to visit a good friend in a car service in Brooklyn.

The fellow of his was a good man, they chatted for a little bit, caught each other up their latest news, had a good laugh but Peter didn't want to disturb him and then went to a record store nearby the car service.

There in a small room full of stands with CD's and vinyls and a silent salesman behind the cash desk with a magazine in his hands the frontman was studying range of music products. He came there just to kill some time but had been looking at new music with interest before his gaze fell upon one special record in best-selling section.

He felt how his eyes glued themselves to the image of an red-haired girl dressed in a white shirt. The colors and the idea were pretty simple: a mid-shot of girl's face and upper body to show audience beautiful features with serious expression of the artist, blue sky, pale wooden barrier and probably an old-fashioned car. Blue font on white read "Born to Die" and white one on blue was typed in big letters "Lana Del Rey".

Luxurious and vintage as I had thought, Peter thought to himself.

That was what he had been looking for since their short encounter that night at the festival. It was so brief and blurred that the man had no time at least to ask for her name. The next day he'd spent looking for her merch tent to buy her music but it turned out to be that she had no one. Moreover the idea to look for someone when you don't even know their name itself was stupid and doomed to failure from the beginning.

And at that moment Peter felt that a missing puzzle piece went up in its place. It was an exact feeling when you finally learn about what you have been trying to find out for so long. Some kind of bliss may be said. Plus he really wanted to listen to the records of this melancholic songstress because he saw the same mood in her music that he had in his own.

But what Peter didn't expect is to see her at the same record store, slowly shuffling through vinyls.

His heart dropped for a second and the next was slight panic and the urge to grab her so she wouldn't disappear. It was so sudden that he didn't know what to say to her and not look like an idiot. Although Peter couldn't miss the chance.

He had decided that it would be better if he'd just leave the CD on the self to not look like some creep in her eyes and went straight to her while slightly waping his sweating palms on dark blue jeans.

"Hello," a familiar deep voice came above her head.

Lizzie quickly looked up and jumped a little, the height of the gothic bassist gave her a slight jumpscare. He couldn't help but chuckle at that.

"Oh, hi," she immeaditely became flustered. "What a surprise. I didn't expect to see you here."

"Me too actually," and then he frowned a little. "I'm sorry that I disappeared so quickly last time."

"That's okay," the girl simply waved her hand. "I hope your friend is doing fine."

"Yeah, he is much better now," Peter slightly snored at the memory of Kenny kicking and screaming threating nonsense and being completely pale with greenish shade the day after he had spent hugging a toilet.

The man took his large hand out for a handshake "I'm Peter."

Lizzie accepted the gesture, her elegant small hand was swallowed by his very gentle touch.

"I'm Elizabeth, nice to meet you officially."

Peter felt a slight pang in his chest.

His "favourite" name. Again.

But he didn't show her sadness hidden behind green eyes. She was not "that" Elizabeth, she was more humane and warm person without a single doubt.

"The pleasure is mine. I've been looking for your records at the festival but found it here" Peter pointed at the best-selling section "I can say that you're doing great".

"Yeah and I still can't believe it..." looking at her own image with grateful expression Elizabeth shooked her head and the gigantic rocker believed the sincerity of her words. And when a dreamy glint in eyes of hers was gone she turned to him with crossed arms. "What brought you here?"

"Firstly, I live here. And secondly, my car is getting fixed down the street," Peter explained in his velvet low voice.

The girl smiled when she understood which accent he got.

"I'm here to see my uncle. I used to live in Brooklyn too with him and my aunt."

"You did?" he slightly raised his eyebrows in surprise. When Peter first saw her onstage he had a strong feeling that she was somewhere from West Coast. Now she looked like a typical city girl: her wavy red hair was loose, same vintage makeup but not so catchy that was at performance, dressed in tight jeans and racing Ferrari red bomber jacket.

Brooklyn was not a glamorous place to live in and Peter knew it well and wondered how living there had affected her or even had inspired in work.

"Yes, but then I had moved to Bronx, after that to New Jersey, lived in a trailer, then returned back so... Well, actually a list of my relocations turned to be a little bit longer than that," she felt a bit awkward because of oversharing and the thought that she was boasting off which was not true.

"You have an interesting life as i see," a small smile was curving the frontman's lips. But the next moment he got slightly tensed, inquired. "Would you like to have a snack and tell me more about your journeys someday?"

"I would love to," her face was graced by a radiant smile which made Peter's stomach drop but he had no clue why.

"I'll give you my phone number..." he took a crumpled small piece of paper and short pencil from pocket of his leather jacket and

"You've prepared," Lizzie giggled citing the fact that he could use it while meeting women.

"Being an old man that I am I need this to write down a grocery list. I hate this feeling when I'm in a supermarket looking for milk but ending up buying tampons," this dramatic head shake and the fact that he had been joking so easily about himself made her think that he liked to be some kind of a clown.

"Poor Peter," she snickered.

"I can say the same about all of musicians," he grinned and caught her looking at his fangs with curiosity again while laughing.

The fact that the girl was exposed didn't go unnoticed and Elizabeth's pink cheeks showed her embarrassment at the situation.

"Thank you..." she lowered her head when he gave her the paper but quickly regained her composure. "Um.. can I ask you for something?"

"Of course," his eyes showed slight concern.

"I have been looking for your records but didn't find one. Can I find it here?"

Oh that, our shitty music albums, the man chuckled at himself.

"Let me see," the musician decided to act like he didn't know that their and Carnivore's discography was in that store. Peter Steele was kind of hero of Brooklyn music scene, many musicians and metalheads knew him and his music (even though he was harsh on himself) had a great impact on others' musical creations.

He went to a section of rock and different genres of metal and pretended to be searching hard for the album, in fact just moving his CDs back and forth, and after a minute of that shameless simulation under Lizzie's watchful eye he picked the latest one, "Bloody Kisses".

"Here," Peter returned and gave her the current CD.

She gladly accepted it while paying attention to how long his slender fingers were. But her attention was instantly captured by two moaning goth-like girls on the cover in a moment of heavy make-out-session... Well, Elizabeth heard their songs live and all of the erotic messages that were there, so it wasn't a big surprise.

"Oh, that's... provocative," she giggled awkwardly looking at the cover from both sides.

"We play dirty," stated Peter in pleased voice. But the cause of his high spirits was that he liked to see how she was getting shy in front of him at his actions or any nonsense that he'd said.

The man turned to get her record but instead was interrrupted.

"Oh, It's not a good version. Trust me!" Lizzie exclaimed. The puzzled and confused gaze he gave her made songstress disappear behind various stands.

And when she came back he saw her holding another music record of hers. The cover was shot with the same prospect but style was different: vintage luxury, swimming pool and palm trees in the back, dressed in swimming suit with straight loose hair looking magnificent as always. All of these was framed with golden textures. It had the same name but under the title there were small gold letters: The Paradise Edition.

"This is a special edition, went on sale only a week ago. The first one sells good but this has twelve more songs and costs the same, even cheaper."

"Thanks for taking care of my wallet," smirked Peter. "That's actually good that you've decided to add so many songs even though I'm sure that your label made you do it."

"Yeah, but I'm glad that I can finally show my material to the world..." he noticed that her cute voice always sounded very garetful when it came to the music and opportunities that were given to her. And then Lizzie stole a quick glance at a round wall clock that hung on the wall behind the salesman. "I think that I shall go and meet my uncle, don't wanna make him wait for me."

"Sure," the frontman felt a sudden wave of sadness and despair by looking at her buying his CD and knowing well that they wouldn't meet so soon, hastily added. "I'd like to call you but I don't know when you'll be in New York next time."

"I'm here everyday," the girl said and threw him a meaningful smile over her shoulder. Then she got the change and waved at him. "Bye."

When glass doors closed themselves with a quiet slam Elizabeth no longer saw the amused look on the big man's face.

"What was that?" Peter chuckled to himself under the annoyed gaze of the salesman, who had been waiting impatinately for them both to pay.

What was that, Lizzie thought to herself while walking down the street to a café when she and her uncle had decided to have a cup of coffee.

Looking down at the CD record in her hands she couldn't help but shake her head with wry chuckle. This is all so strange. At first that festival which almost made her shit herself, then this huge gothic guy with fangs and corny sense of humour...

He wasn't her type at all. Yes, she had said many times that she had no type but all of her boyfriends had something in common: appearance or some kind of fleur around them. But Peter was different. He was beautiful in a dark way; pale, long-haired with manly face and hypnotic green eyes looking like a black-maned demigod or a vampire. But Lizzie had no interest in vampires... until when?

Anyway, there was something about him that seemed to be magnetic for her romantically or not.

Five days later they met in a good place where they could have a proper meal and a real conversation and where nothing and no one could interupt them this time. At first Peter had wanted to invite her to a premium restaurant but then he thought that it would look like a date and he didn't want to scare her away that way... Well, to be honest the man didn't fully understand what he felt for her. But the one thing was clear: he was drawn to the melancholic songstress.

"...and then you moved to London?" Peter asked while pouring red wine into his glass after she had kindly refused the drink. He was trying to sort out Lizzie's life and her numerous moves and almost every one of them had been remembered by him.

Her life looked like that detailed puzzles that people buy and then forget about them because its complexity irritate them and make them feel oppressed due to they can't easily collect it. But when it's finaly ready it looks so fascinatingly and reassuring that they can't tear their gazes away.

And Peter even felt little bit embarrassed because being six years older than Elizabeth he still hadn't moved out of his parents' basement. His life was so boring compared to hers: no relocations, no life in a trailer, no metaphysics degree.

"Yes, right after my first studio album got flopped," she said and took a sip of her Pepsi. "I lived in a shitty flat with no heat, it was so awful."

"Looks like you took everything from life," he smiled and got chuckle out of the girl.

"Not at all," with slight frown Lizzie remembered all those ten years that she was desperately trying to break into a music scene.

"Anyway, I'm pleased to be in a company of such an intelligent and erudite woman."

And again there was heat rising on her cheeks.

"Am I wrong or you do really enjoy see me blushing?" her lips curved into an cute-awkward smile. "However, thanks."

"Making people feel uncomfortable is my another favourite hobby," significantly stated Peter and there was a mischievous small sparkle in his eyes when he sipped wine.

Oh, if only she knew about "Nazi" scandal, the original cover of "The Origin of the Feces", being "misogynist" and this "Prelude to Agony" song...

He wasn't proud of it at all, but that's what happens when you have a provocative vision of art and crude humour.

"I noticed that when you played this 'Christian Woman'. Kinda reminded me about the time when I was in a Catholic school. Singing in choir and loving going to a church..." the girl's face assumed a nostalgic expression as if she cherished those times which surprised the gothic musician — his own experience was quite the opposite.

"Oh, that means that I wrote this song about you?" he asked jokingly.

"Well, I don't remember that I could be touching myself while looking at crucifix at nights. So, probably no."

"Yeah, it was me who had been fantasying about Jesus, sorry..." Peter was fooling around again, like he used to act around with his close ones, but when he saw her restrained smile and shining eyes he decided to tell a little bit more. "Actually, I wrote this song out of my experience being a catholic boy during puberty. Nocturnal emissions and other embarassing things, you know. Just made up a sensual story out of a teenage nightmare."

"I do write songs based on my life too," Elizabeth nodded knowingly. Her favourite way to write music was when the stuff that made the girl emotional had happened so she could see things more clearly. But at that moment she thought about how many of his songs were filled with real experience and not wet and gloomy fantasies.

There was a short pause before Peter spoke again.

"You have this interesting song. Um, 'my pussy tastes like Pepsi cola' as long as I remember..." he uttered with a puzzled expression, looking away like couldn't remember it properly but in reality he was just messing around with her again.

Her hazel eyes immediately widened.

"Oh my god!" she choked on the exact drink and quickly caught the attention of other visitors. Some of them had stopped their conversations and turned around to see what the matter but they saw the songstress wiping her mouth with a napkin.

"Very interesting line," the man could hardly keep the smile off his face.

That bastard... that extremely good-looking bastrad, Elizabeth thought.

"Oh my god, ughh!" she hid her face behind palms and groaned embarassingly. If few moments ago her cheeks were briefly dusted with pink, now she was sure that the heat her face was radiating could be felt from the other end of the table.

"I'm sorry, I didn't want to embarrass you so much!" he laughed heartedly. It was a deep rumbling sound that Lizzie wanted to hear again and again. So smooth and calming.

"No, it's fine," the girl waved her hands. "Well... oh my," she couldn't help but snored again. "One of my friends, he's Scottish, ones said that American girls' pusseys taste like Pepsi cola. And I thought that's would sound cool."

"Your friend seems to be an expert in foreign cuisine," Peter noted ironically.

"I don't want to go into these details!" the girl exclaimed giggling.

He liked to make her laugh, how she lowered her long lashes, how her plump lips were curving into a gentle smile. That was a hypnotic sight to see.

Although, this part of conversation was hillarious but Lizzie couldn't help but felt slightly insecure.

"Do you have silly songs like this one?" she looked calm but the way she started to pick her long manicured nails didn't go unnoticed by the big gothic musician.

"Every song of ours is silly," his biting self-criticism was storng as always. Had this man ever admitted his achievements?

"Come on," the songstress rolled her eyes in a playful manner.

Peter coughed — that was the habit of his, he did it occasionally during conversations or interviews — and thought.

"Alright... um, from the last album it is Black No. 1," that time the answer was honest and serious.

"Really? But it's a hit. I saw the crowd going insane when they heard it," she wondered. The song was brilliant, catchy and had great pontential and not to mention the fact that it was the single. Audience was shouting, jumping and singin along with the band that evening.

"I would like to look at them when they find out that this song is about hair dye that I wrote in a traffic jam while driving a garbage truck," Peter smirked. "Although, I've said that too many times in interviews. People don't understand that's a sarcasm. I noticed that they don't understand what sarcasm is at all."

Then she started to understand that Peter Steele was not about gothic romantism and sex; this person was much deeper and complicated. But in a witty way, may say.

"Being a musician means that every song of yours shall mean something deep and contain higher thoughts. But how exactly this hair dye inspired you? I'm interested."

"My ex-girlfriend used it and she still does, I think. She was a gothic girl, a real hot stuff. She listened to goth bands and was making fun of my music taste, especially hardcore bands that I liked at that time. She said that I don't know the real music."

"That's kinda stupid of her," said Lizzie with furrowed eyebrows and took another sip of Pepsi. She'd always thought that It's so childish to make make fun of something that you don't like or don't understand yourself.

"Yeah, but at that time I was crazy about her, I didn't mind," the man just shrugged his shoulders.

This made her wonder about that girl: how she looked like, was she really that hot as Peter saw her, how she smelled like and what kind of a perfume she used, was her voice low and sultry or high and pitchy, how she prefered to spend her free time and was she more beautiful than Lana herself.

Lizzie found herself thinking about these silly things and but decided to brush them off. She had no need to know about his love life. But anyway, almost every song that Elizabeth had heard on that 'Bloody Kisses' record (oh, and how she got so fucking scared when in the beginning some girl started to moan heart-rendingly) was about both mental and physical relationships with women.

"So, according to my observations can I say that women are your main inspiration?" the girl asked curiously but couldn't hide that mischievous glint that was seen in her hazel eyes. She wondered if this giant would deny it with male shame or agree willingly in order to cozy up to her.

"Not main, but they are also important to me," Peter stated simply understanding that the talented companion wanted to mess with him little bit. And he smirked himself teasingly. "But you too have these love ballads from what I've heard."

And then that glimmer in her eyes faded. Lizzie had two options: to tell the truth or to laugh it off playfully and move on next topic. But somehow she felt urge to share a little bit. Maybe because he was an artist too or because she just wanted to.

"Ha, well..." Lizzie giggled but it was more nervous and sad chuckle. "I'm an ex-alcoholic."

The playful mood that was between them two quickly vanished after that leaving a ringing silence. Peter was looking at the girl and feeling guilty for making her feel uncomfortable by offering to drink wine earlier but Lana was okay.

That moment he saw her in a different light but not in a bad one: behind this careless lush red hair, vintage makeup, long nails and golden necklaces was something dark, tragic and fragile. People who saw her and heard her music thought tha she was just a foolish beautiful doll with whining songs and a pathetic product of a good label. But that's not true.

This beautiful porcelain doll had barely noticable cracks and Peter wanted to see what was behind them, inside.

The man felt ashamed for drinking wine so casually in front of her all the evening.

"Oh, sorry, shall I..." he started to apologize hastily and his already big green eyes became even bigger while fussing and attempting to get rid of alcohol on their table.

"No, I'm not so fucked up," Elizabeth rolled her eyes with ironic smile at his fuss, he was so cute. "I mean, almost in every music piece that I create there is a small hint about my past addiction."

He nodded silently in response and felt no desire to sip this wine; the laid-back atmosphere around them collapsed like a shattering glass but it wasn't girl's fault. Suddenly Peter found the dark red liquid in his glass so interesting to observe.

"You may be silent but I see the question in your eyes, you know," Lizzie joked and got chuckle out of the frontman.

"Right," he smirked in a guilty way and slightly lowered his head to hide a fact that his pale cheeks were flushed with shame.

"It's all started when I was fourteen," she began her story. "When I was very young I was sort of floored by the fact that my mother and my father and everyone I knew was going to die one day, and myself too. I had a sort of a philosophical crisis. I couldn't believe that we were mortal. For some reason that knowledge sort of overshadowed my experience. I was unhappy for some time. I got into a lot of trouble. I used to drink a lot. That was a hard time in my life."

"I know it all sounds silly, but... I was a big drinker at the time. I would drink every day. My parents were worried, I was worried. I knew it was a problem when I liked it more than I liked doing anything else. I was like, 'I'm fucked. I am totally fucked'. Like, at first it's fine and you think you have a dark side — it's exciting — and then you realise the dark side wins every time if you decide to indulge in it. It's also a completely different way of living when you know that...a different species of person. It was the worst thing that ever happened to me."

"In general, my album is about me being a crazy mess in my teens," the girl waved her hands so simply that made Peter blink distractedly. One minute she was telling a harsh story and then acting like nothing happened. There was no bad taste for her but maybe they are telling truth? Time heals?

"I just wondered why we're here and was sort of consumed by the fact that everyone's gonna, um, leave this planet. About love..." Lizzie smirked tauntingly returning to the previous question. "They think that I write songs about a specific guy who broke my heart or 'bout the man I will love forever, but the true is most of my "love songs" are about alcohol. Don't know, when I write about the thing that I've lost I feel like I write about alcohol because that was the first love of my life."

The gothic bassist remained silent but couldn't tear his gaze off. Not anymore.

"Anyway, this fact doesn't change that I still have bad taste in men," an awkward giggle escaped her lips.

"Can say the same about my taste in women," Peter joked to support. But in that one there was also some truth.

Elizabeth really wanted not to talk about her personal life, at least not right now, but the urge to babble about it was so strong so the girl was holding herleslf back as much as she could.

"It's just like, once I was blessed to find someone who made me so happy. But, in the end, it seemed like I wasn't good enough for him."

"I think you were more than enough," he said surely, his deep voice was filled with warm and kind notes.

"You can't know such things, you weren't there," she uttered with her hand shuffled through patterned napkins in a carved metal napkin holder on the table. Lizzie didn't want him to assure her in something that she still couldn't figure out.

"I know that's true because someone who says this usually that one who tried their best in a such shitty relationship."

That made her reflect on it.

"Well, I can't help but agree with you this time..."

The rest of the evening went well and calm. They felt some kind of an ease and were joking and talking like nothing had happened before, just having a good time in general. However, both sensed that someting intimate flashed between them, especially after Lizzie's honest tale. In response the gothic frontman told her that bottles of wine onstage were not for cool entourage: he had a bad stage fright like Lana did.

Later that night, when Peter came home being greeted by his few cats he played her CD again. Skipped to the 'Born To Die' and started listening to it from a new perspective knowing small details and a skeleton of the piece.

And that moment he knew — he was falling for her. Fast and irreversibly.

After that night Peter and Elizabeth started to spend more time together. At first they had been meeting twice a week but soon Peter started to notice more and more often that he's on phone with Lizzie asking her for a walk. And their walks weren't romantic or too amorous. That were two brilliant people, even though they didn't know that about themselves, walking around New York together, telling stories and discussing many topics but all they did was only in a friendly way. Even though Peter cut his long strides in half to walk alongside the girl, her legs were aching anyway after their 'city tours'.

Elizabeth was intrigued by the fact that passers-by always looked at him, examined his tall figure, long black hair with a police cap, dressed in the leather jacket. Of course it was difficult not to notice him but he had something special about him, and it's not just beauty, that made women stare at him.

Especially Lizzie Woolridge Grant.

Once they walked around Manhattan and she told him how the city had inspired her in so many of her songs. When she was younger the girl used to wander around New York and hum some tunes then she just cuptered them on paper. 'I was a waitress at that time,' she said. In return the Brooklyn's giant took her to his favourite Chinese food restaurant and bought meals for 60$.

Peter started to quickly dissapear after every music session and the guys liked to make fun of him every time they got a chance. Kenny and Johnny were joking, Josh did it too but more cautiously. He knew very well how vulnerable his friend was so he didn't want to rescue his big boney ass if something would go wrong. Even though they didn't know Lana personally three of them had a common joke that next time Peter would write a sarcastic song about vintage hair curlers and a glue for fake eyelashes.

Meanwhile Lizzie began to realize that she was attached to him not only because he a beautiful, intelligent, polite and restrained Individual... The reason surprised her — she liked him.

While listening to his album, which was a gimmick in her collection, the girl found herself not enjoying Type O's instrumental anymore. From then on it was all about his voice, no matter if he talked or sang. His deep velvet voice with rambling laugh made her knees weak. She could no longer look him in the eyes without admiration which immediately led to confusion and shyness.

At the same time Elizabeth started to caught his glances more often. Of course Peter had found her attractive before but now he couldn't help himself. Every time the man looked at her gorgeous face he wanted to trace his fingers down her cheekbones, full lips... those lips... The frontman wanted to devour them in the most hot and sweet kiss at once.

This continued for some time. Long walks along Coney Island, restaurants meals and conversations about music, art and love affairs.

They said that they didn't want anything serious or a proper relationship and the very next second they were passionately kissing in his car. Long slender fingers tangled in red hair, long manicured nails slightly scracthed the back of the neck. Both knew that there was no way back. Both were so fucking glad.

Peter didn't paid attention to friends'mockeries of him being excited and in love. Instead he began to invite Lizzie to their recording sessions which didn't disturb the process at all. She had known inner workings of the recording and tried not to distract them very much but she made friends with all of them somehow anyway (what a bunch of facts, both gross and nice, guys told her about Green Man...). And for Pete her presence in the studio had been good. Melancholic songstress didn't know that she was in fact his muse at that time and that most of his creative fantasies, and not only creative, were about her.

Out of respect she didn't buy this 'Playgirl' magazine with his spicy photo session. But in the very beginning of their relationship there was a huge temptation because her hormones gone wild.

It was so scary and thrilling. Lizzie was afraid because she'd heard about his tour lifestyle. God, she even didn't need to hear about this — the girl saw with her own eyes how women were looking at him wherever they were going together. Particularly after that infamous magazine which seemed to be not only for ladies...

But she decided to dive into it, knowing there would be no turning back. Only a broken heart and vain hope.

Though everything between these two were developing gradually and correctly.

Several months later Peter being a family guy that he was decided to introduce Elizabeth to his big family. His mother, Nettie, really liked her (the woman complimented her hair-style every time), five older sisters and their kids thought that she was nice and even Peter Sr who usually prefered to stay out of son's private life, that was his wife's job, who knew about love adventures of their youngest child, appreciated his new squeeze. He also promised Peter that if he would hurt her somehowhe he would get in the neck. In response the man just laughed and pledged that she will be cherished and taken care of. Just like Lizzie deserved and how his sisters taught him to treat a woman.

Life is so god damn weird, she thought looking at his sculptured masculine profile while having a ride with him one night. Peter could swear loudly at passing cars or speaking in puns just to hear Lizzie's laugh, her real laugh: loud and bright, not small giggles.

That European festival supposed to increase the music career of hers, a task with which it was succesessful, but in addition it gave Lizzie something bigger: a great man and worthy relationships.

Compared to this her past experiences were just a shit on a sole. No regrets.

Behind shutters there cars were passing in the night with a dissapearing flash and a distant roar. The light in the room was dim, a lamp with a red illuminating bulb was on. Such glow created a mysterious atmosphere with lit candles in the bedroom combined with living room in the flat in Queens.

Cocteau Twins' 'Pepper-Tree' was softly playing in the background. The only sound that was heard besides it were light sighs and quiet girly moans.

Lizzie's naked body was wriggling on light burgundy cotton sheets under Peter's skillful tongue and watchful eyes. She was lightly swaying her hips, arching her back with sexy breathy 'Oh's, grabbing her perky breasts herself and pinching hard nipples between the middle and index finger.

Looking at such erotic and mesmerizing view Peter was absolutely sure in one thing: he would spend his whole life between legs of his angelic girlfriend if he could just to hear these moans and see her beautiful face in pure ecstasy, with closed eyes and parted full lips.

"Mm, you taste divine..." he murmured lowly and adding thoughtfully. "Those soda bubbles and cherry... or vanilla, I haven't figured it out yet..."

She rolled her eyes but this time not from pleasure.

"Why do you have to do this right now?" Lizzie asked irritably and rose on her elbows feeling her climax fading and lustful mood ruined.

"Because you yourself say that your pussy tastes like Pepsi cola. It's not my fault!" said the man in his defence. He could hardly hid the cheeky grin behind her smooth silky skin.

Sometimes he was so unbearable.

"When I wrote that I thought that it would sounds cool, but now I hate this line more than anything!" she stated heatedly and lay on her back again.

He always found her so cute and funny complaining about her lyrics.

"I think it's one of the coolest things that I've ever heard about vagina."

Elizabeth turned a deaf ear on that.

"Ugh, why am I such an idiotic songwriter?!" Lizzie groaned hiding her face behind palms.

Peter was looking at her while calmly running his big palms up and down her thighs in soothing manner.

"I am always trying to create something but every time ending up doing some stupid shit!"

"And because of it I love you."

Bitter annoyance and frustration were gone. Her tongue was immediately caught in her throat. She even forgot how to breathe.

The girl looked at him over her naked breasts expecting to see a grimace of fear and painful waiting but she saw absolute assurance in his pretty manly face. These words weren't a fleeting gust even though they were in bed.

"What?" sounded like a choked gasp.

"I love you."

Lizzie had blinked few times before she began to feel hot clear tears running down her shocked face.

She grabbed him in attempt to pull closer and planted a hot and strong kiss on his lovely mouth. While their lips were moving Peter felt her whispering 'I love you' all over again and again. And they couldn't be happier than at that night.

'You make me feel electric' Lizzie said to Peter when they were lying on the bed in his basement, just cuddling with his cats at their feet. Grizzelda was purring when the songstress scratched her tiny head delicately.

Both lovers and cats were napping that rainy evening and Elizabeth felt absolute peace. It was always like that near him.

'That's because I always give you these electrical shocks every time you touch me?' he asked hoarsely and she giggled tiredly.

He was so humble, so sweet, gentle and down-to-earth that the girl could no longer imagine her life without Peter. More important, it was mutual.

For the first time Pete saw that his woman could show as much affection as he did himself with her. Every hour spent with Lizzie he could compare to delicate sunbathing in warm Spring days. The muscician almost felt how the light was seeping through him with their every interaction.

She made a discovery that he wasn't that gloomy and serious like she saw him on that European festival. He was a jokester, who liked to fool around with puns and scare his loved ones with weird noises that the deep voice of his could make. But the man treated people with respect and was friendly to everyone. Of course he could have bad days like any of us, when the bassist could sit there all grumpy with furrowed bushy eyebrows and with no desire to share his worries with her. Peter preferred to keep everything to himself, just not to bother anyone on or not to look like a weak person.

Otherwise, he was a tender and supportive soul.

But still, Lizzie anxiously waited for that moment and it happened. He just couldn't be only hers forever. Not him, not Peter Steele.

One day at the party of some friend of' the drab four' guys' Kenny went to her to talk about it. She was terrified to hear next 'You see...' or 'I don't want to be the person who'll tell you this but I know that he has no balls to do it himself, so...'. But instead the guitarist said that he was almost shocked to see Peter not paying attention to any other woman anymore but her. And he said that he was very proud of his mate and them both. Lizzie didn't know what to say and Kenny didn't know what to do when he saw her crying.

And how shaken was Peter when he saw his girlfriend shedding floods of tears in a corner with his best friend standing next to her.

"What a fuck is going on, man?!" shouted the frontman angrily without paying attention that his friends and acquaintances stared at him instantly while being anxious and confused.

"Pete, I..." Kenny started to make excuses but his mate didn't want to hear any.

Peter looked at Lizzie for an answer but without any words she unexpectedly threw herself at him, tugging his neck down and capturing his lips with a strong kiss full of adoration. Distractedly accepted the gesture and scooped the melancholic songstress closer but still had no idea; his friends just snickered and returned to their previous activities.

Later she told him the reason of this public 'rush of love' and the man couldn't help but laughed and pulled her closer to his huge frame.

But still there was a third wheel between them two.

It was a miracle that the city in their such differernt tour programs had coincided. Lizzie's first worldwide tour had been a success. Sales were great, people bought tickets for the shows and records, appearences on TV and interviews on radio. Life was sweet like cinnamon. But what eluded her the most that she had opportunity to see her man performing right after her perfomance would be finished.

When the time had come Lizzie was walking down the backstage hall hurriedly to see Peter after five-month-separation.

"Johnny!" the singer greeted happily walking past Kelly.

"Hi, dear," the drummer smiled in his cheerful manner.

"Where's Peter?" the eagerness in her voice made her sound like a little girl waiting for Santa at midnight.

"He is in the dressing room alone," he showed her the very last door in the end.

"Thank you," she lightly patted his back and went into the direction.

Full of enthusiasm and giddy impatience Lizzie had thought how tightly he would hug her. His warm mitts on her back, cheeks, gentle kisses on lips, the crown of the head.

But when the door was open Peter didn't show joy at all. The frontman had been trying to hide a bottle of red wine but failed. The red liquid accidentally spilled on the dirty carpeting from the sudden movement.

"Shit!" he hissed lowly either of being caught red-handed or because he'd almost ruined his pants.

Elizabeth's expression turned to stone one. The wish to squeeze him tight in her embrace died, instead she wanted to leave with a loud bang of the door but it was not her style.

"We were talking about it, Pete," Lizzie said quietly but as stern as she could.

"I remember," the man nodded not looking at her with a blank face.

"You told me that that was the last time," at that time words came with more passion.

"I remeber that too."

"And you told me that you'll make an effrot."

"I have a good memory," Peter quipped. In his opinion it wasn't really a big deal. Few sips could reduce endless anxiety level, a few bottles could make his legs went to jelly and give this excellent feeling like he was at home during perfomances.

"Looks like you're definetely not!" she threw in return angrily. Thanks to the empty backstage hall and loud banging music no one would hear them arguing.

The frontman could fight back, make excuses, explaining or shout at her but he was so tired of touring, performing, living on the road, giving interviews about his penis in 'Playgirl' magazine to stupid journalists, endless parties just all of that shit that he couldn't stand.

Peter stayed silent not wanting to say any word.

Of course the girl knew how he "liked" his job but there was something about it that the Brooklyn giant was sick of the most: live perfomances. Even there, at 'home' clubs she saw him panicking and stressing out, trying to dull feelings with alcohol before a show and then celebrating it with another portion of booze after.

One big vicious circle.

"Pete, I fucked up on TV!" Lizzie exclaimed wanting to comfort him even though that fact hurt her very much. "My performance on SNL was so bad that almost every fucking person in this country thinks that I can't sing! But it didn't start to drink again after that."

"Yes, I see that you're much stronger than me," he rolled his eyes turning a jackass mode one.

"I didn't mean that," Lizzie stared at her boyfriend coldly. "I just beg you to stop, because it will drag you to nowhere"

"Sounds not so bad," Peter smirked dramaticaly and she almost send him packing.

"You don't know any shit," the songstress chuckled bitterly. At that moment he reminded her a small boy who hadn't listened to anyone but in the end that boy admitted that he was wrong. And she knew that he would come to it himself but on his way he would receive many wounds and scars.

Lizzie was slowly passing around the stuffy small room with greyish-blue carpeting and stains of splashed wine on it, a worn out black couch, a smudged square mirror and a coat rack by the door. Peter was sitting on the couch, his hands were lazily clasped, elbows were on his knees. His gaze was focused on a plinth, the forgotten bottle stood next to the right leg.

When music subsided a little the girl began to speak again.

"I know that it's much easier and more understandable when you smash your face into a table. It immediately shows how things are going. But believe me, you don't want it."

Peter looked like he'd closed inside himself but he heard everything she'd been saying. The gothic bassist just didn't want to face it, not now. God, please, not now.

"I do this because I care about you. And the reason why I care about you is because I love you. I don't want to see you going through the same things that I went through," her lovely voice was tender that time, like she wanted to touch something deep inside him, to wake her loved one wake up. Unfortunately he didn't want to wake up.

When silence had become unbearable Lizzie sat down on the couch next to Peter whose look was distant. This was this type of silence when one of them understood that there was urge to tell something meaningful and that feeling was pressing on Elizabeth.

She had never actually told him about her past. Peter didn't want to push her and the girl considered that phase of her life was over. It was so long ago that seemed far, far away from her and current events.

But still, it was painful and nasty to tell about. And she had no way; the youngest child of Ratajczyk's was so stubborn.

"I stopped when I lost my parents' car somewhere and couldn't remember where, why and what happened then," admitted the melancholic songstress. The voice was steady but still there was a shameful tone. "And I'm afraid that you will stop when you lost your parents' house when you'll be officially of the rails,"

And then the frontman was all ears.

He was looking at her carefully, the right side of girl's face was hidden behind loose wavy red locks; they didn't look presentable like they had been a few hours ago. Even though Lizzie looked sad and tired after the performance, it was seen in features and slightly smudged mascara, Peter still saw her as the most attractive woman even with fake eyelashes peeling off.

"And the recovery wasn't all about rainbows and unicorns. And the first attempt wasn't successful and the last one. These things don't go smooth."

She stared at the deep scratch at the bottom of the door and continued half-heartedly.

"If you want to know more, I worked as a volunteer at drug and alcohol rehabilitation centres in Brooklyn. Before that I was in rehab myself, great times," Lizzie chuckled lowly and felt a strong desire to smoke right now but the room had already smelled like a mix of piss and smoke so the decision of hers was to not make it worse.

"I saw their desperate exhausted faces," memories of that poor lost people flashed n girl's mind but Peter couldn't understand that tragedy fully, he didn't see them. "They knew that we were ready to help them, but the only thing that was out of their reach was that everything starts with themselves."

Their lives were chaos but her own had been no good too.

"I know what is like to have an alcoholic boyfriend," Lizzie smirked and if Peter didn't know her he would have thought that she tried to make him jealous or feel guilty. "And I know what is like to be an alcoholic girlfriend to a sober guy, a complete mess both ways."

Although the man continued to stay silent at that moment his brain was absorbing the new information rapidly. Since the day one, when he first saw her on European stage in that white dress with Priscilla hair, the musician couldn't get rid of the impression deep inside in the corner of his mind that she was like a fog: weightless and illusory, without a story behind and big shocks. However she had everything. She had a family, parents and two siblings, childhood in Lake Placid, funny stories, adventures with her dad, arguments with mom, fears and failures.

She was like a real human being, just like him and any others he knew. But much sweeter and cheerful, and because of it Peter loved her with his whole heart.

And Lizzie thought that the man was like a Frankenstein. Not because there was something monstrous about him, which was absolutely not true, it was as if he was made and stitched of different pieces that at first sight couldn't fit.

"You're so weird..." the girl muttered with amused chuckle and a head shake.

"Oh, you stabbed me!" Peter sarcastically placed his hand on his heart. That were his first words in last fourteen minutes.

Lizzie still was feeling down but could help but chuckled quietly.

"You almost hate your musical career. But since sixteen years old you only do that create bands and play music..."

"You are the most fucking conflicted person that I know," she confessed honestly.

Peter decided not show that it struck him because everything that was coming out of her mouth was true. In her and others' eyes he looked like a masochist.

"You flatter me," the gothic singer brushed off with irony natural to him.

However, his so called "playful" mood was killed when the girl finally looked at him. And oh boy, Peter had never seen her so serious and overwhelmed at the same time and he almost regretted what he had said.

"Your self-conscious will caught you up one day, Pete," Lizzie stated not wanting to tip-toe with the whole topic. "It'll destroy from the core."

And then the man could no longer keep a deadpan expression. Certainly Elizabeth Woolridge Grant was a smart girl, she saw that painfully shy small boy in the big man's body, who ripped guitar strings barehanded onstage once. If a person could be brave (and tall) enough to look into his blue hazel eyes with green contacs, that Brooklyn giant had been buying on King's Highway, they would see vulnerability that contrasted his overall presence. Peter was so soft for her, he could do literally anything that she would ask for, but the only thing that he couldn't do was to not kill and poison himself with his own self doubts, venomous criticism and self-deprecating jokes.

"Small things inside of us can fucked up everything," her voice got quieter, raspier, and her pretty features expressed only tiredness.

Now Lizzie was observing Pete without any frustration. The frontman turned and looked away but his whole appearance showed noticable weaking of his positions.

"I don't know how to do this," he muttered quietly gazing at the bottle beside his leg. It seemed to him that he could smell the intoxicating smell of wine from that distance.

The small questinable ' hm?' came from the songstress and Peter tried to recollect his frantic thoughts.

"I hate parties, I've always hated parties and being in bunch of loud and annoying people," the man sounded almost exhausted and dark, with no jokes and sarcastic remarks. "I'm grateful to our fans but I feel the weight of responsibility on my shoulders every time I go onstage because I need to do my job good. They pay money just to see us messing around with instruments. But what's more important that I chose to die with a bass guitar in my hand than with rake because I wanted to use my brain, not to say that I have any."

"I don't know how I've ended up here," he confessed heartedly and felt completely lost.

Lizzie saw something shattered in big green orbs, so she moved close to the man and gently brushed shiny long black strands away from his face. Her delicate moves, cold hands and long nails always caused goosebumps on his skin.

"Just start, it will get easier, you'll see," the girl briefly touched his temple.

Peter closed his eyes wearily but suddenly opened them again when he felt how she took his big palm into hers.

"And I'll be there with you, I promise," Lizzie almost whispered but the words were loud like a scream.

That made him look at her, then at their clasped hands and then at her again. The man sensed a warm feeling inside, it was much warmer than two liters of a red wine.

Without any words Peter tugged his melancholic vintage girlfriend closer, holding her in tight and sweet embrace and sniffing the rich scent of her perfume.

And he started.

Not immediately, but started.

The spring breeze blew thin creamy curatins with pale floral patterns. The sun was shining high in the sky, that May was warm and bright. The electric black clock showed 3 p.m with its neon green numbers which actually was the wrong shade of green.

They moved in only three weeks ago but thus far felt like that Brooklyn apartment had been their home, like they used to live here before. There was a big number of boxes around but all of the furniture was already assembled by the leader of Type O Negative and him only.

That was a big step and both of them knew it. But Peter, for the first time in his life, was ready to move in together with his woman of his dreams and newly there was enough trust and love to try and create something special. And Lana felt enough assurance to buy a property with her man for once and not to be tricked or cheated.

"Well, my boyfriend's in a band," Lizzie sang softly to herself while shuffling through the box full of her notepads when they had been resting in the living room. "He plays guitar while I sing Lou Reed..."

Peter couldn't hide a smirk when he heard the line about musician-boyfriend. He tore his gaze away from a scientific book that he had bought last week and looked at her but Elizabeth was so focused on the task that she didn't notice a gentle stare.

"I've got feathers in my hair..." at the last word she did this raspy thing with her voice that he loved so much. "I get down to Beat poetry."

Peter caught himself thinking that it was a new song, because he probably didn't hear that before.

"And my jazz collection's rare," that time the songstress switched to a beautiful melodic falsetto. "I can play most anything."

At such moments she reminded him of that retro female singers or cartoons' princesses, it sounded so airy, so fantastically like in a fairytale or in the old musical TV perfomance.

"I'm a Brooklyn baby," Lizzie caught a wave and she could no longer be stopped. Her eyes were closed, small smile palyed on her full lips. The girl repeated. "I'm a Brooklyn baby..."

When the girl opened her eyes she saw a strong adoration on Peter's face, who was sitting across from her in the opposite armchair to hers.

"Come here," he said in his deep voice putting the book aside.

Lizzie fluttered from her seat easily and teasingly and with a playful smirk sat on his lap.

"So, you're Brooklyn baby now?" the musician asked with a pleased look. His mitts lovingly wandered over her bare legs in denim shorts that he liked so much. "Hm?"

"I think I've never stopped actually," Elizabeth shrugged her shoulders thinking back to the days when she used to serve in cafes in Long Island and giving first gigs. Although she added giddy and proudful. "And I will always be the coolest couch queen."

"You have to prove me that, darling," Peter flashed his fangs with a rolling "R" and quickly got up from the armchair with screaming Lizzie in his hands. Her loud laughter boomed around the room when her body hit a soft sofa and one of his cats ran away from there with annoyed 'meow!' not wanting to nap anymore with these two around.

He was biting her neck lightly and tickling girl's sides with long slender fingers while she was trying to kick that fucking big oaf off of her. After all, she gave up and took initiative upon herself, kissing him deep and slow just how he liked.

And Peter felt that familiar taste of a cherry lipbalm and Pepsi cola on his tongue. Just like he preferred.

Tried not to make it cheesy, hope turned kinda okay?

[strlessankt]

Sonhos em Ruínas

design entregue no blog @desiresdesigns

design delivered at the blog @desiresdesigns

[th4saapobangpo]

⋆Lana del Rey Masterlist⋆

Minors DNI !! ✮= Fluff, 🪽= Angst,♜= smut,🎧= Platonic friendship,🧸= lesbian,€= Yandere,🕶️= age gap .. etc

Moodboard's

*Yet to create some*

One shots

*Yet to write some*

Full Stories

*Yet to write some*

drabbles

*Yet to write some*

headcanons

*Yet to write some*

disclamer: Please acknoledge, that the person above will only be shipped with my oc's which are of the same gender as her !!

[greengoblinswifey]

Love Story for the New Age- Nicholas Chavez x Fem!Reader

summary— your love story with nicholas unfolds amidst the chaos of fame and paparazzi as you explore NYC together.

warnings— nothing explicit. fluff, kissing, ass squeezing, established relationship, protective and sweetheart nicholas.

a/n— read while listening to National Anthem by Lana Del Rey, preferably the demo version but the released works <3

You walked down the bustling streets of New York, hand in hand with Nicholas, heads down, sunglasses shielding your faces from the curious eyes of passersby. Security followed a few steps behind, giving space but always watchful. The city's constant hum surrounded you, honking taxis, the chatter of people, and the distant murmur of traffic. New York a couple years ago seemed like a distant dream but here you were, on a casual day.

As you passed a cozy-looking restaurant, the smell of food made you glance up. Just then, a woman working inside recognized Nicholas, her face lighting up in excitement. “I love your work! You’re amazing!” she exclaimed, “you’re even better looking in person.”

He smiled warmly, still holding on to your hand. “Thank you,” he said, giving your hand a gentle squeeze. You felt a wave of pride, seeing him appreciated for his talent and staying so down-to-earth despite his new found popularity.

The woman, clearly eager to please, offered, “Would you both like to skip the line? I can get you seated right away.” He politely declined, shaking his head. “No, thank you. We’ll wait our turn.”

You couldn’t help but feel proud of him in that moment. Despite his fame, he remained humble and grounded. As you stood in line together, your heart swelled with admiration, grateful for the man beside you who stayed true to himself, even with the world watching.

“I’m proud of you,” you smiled, looking up at him.

“I know you are baby, it’s nothing, I just did what I was supposed to.” Always so humble.

After waiting for a few minutes you were finally seated with the promise that someone would be with you to take your orders.

The cozy ambiance of the restaurant was a welcome break from the chaos outside. As you scanned the options, you smiled and decided on pasta, having heard rave reviews about the restaurant’s dishes.

“The last time I ordered pasta from a restaurant it was so bad, I swear to god if it’s bad again I’ll scream,” you groaned. Nicholas, still glancing over the menu, seemed to be carefully considering his choice.

Just as you were about to put the menu down, a sudden flash caught your eye. You blinked, confused, and glanced toward the window. Outside, a group of paparazzi had gathered, their cameras pointed directly at you both, flashing non-stop.

You gasped and turned to Nicholas. “Oh my God, did you call them? You didn’t call them, did you?” He shook his head, looking just as surprised as you. “No, of course not. Why would I do that? This is crazy.”

You let out a small giggle despite yourself, but the constant barrage of camera flashes started to get on your nerves. Annoyed, you shielded your face with your hand. Nicholas did the same, his jaw tightening as the flashing continued. Neither of you moved, trying to keep the moment from spiraling into full-blown chaos, but the attention was unsettling.

Finally, the waitress approached the table with a warm smile. She complimented your hair, making you smile despite the chaos around you, and then turned to your boyfriend.

“I have to say,” she began, “your acting in Monsters was incredible. I just love the show and sympathize with the Menendez brothers.”

Nicholas gave her a grateful smile, genuinely touched by the compliment. “Thank you so much, that’s really sweet of you,” he responded, his tone soft and appreciative.

“She’s sweet,” you added, after the waitress left with your orders written down.

You noticed, though, that the first woman who’d greeted you earlier had barely acknowledged your presence. It stung a little, but you brushed it off, focusing instead on the waitress’s kindness and his down-to-earth reaction.

Outside, the paparazzi continued to snap pictures occasionally, but the intensity had lessened. Now, they seemed content with waiting for the two of you to finish your meal, no doubt hoping for more shots or a word as you left.

“I used to think celebrities called paparazzi on themselves but you didn’t and here they are,” you chuckled, sinking into your seat.

“Me too baby,” he reached across and caressed your hand in his, “I know it’s annoying and feels stalkerish but I’ll deal with it.”

You were content with his response. Paparazzi was dangerous, growing up you believed they were responsible for Britney Spears’ despise, tormenting her and catching her at her most vulnerable moments. The media had a frenzy with the pictures they would capture and you didn’t want that for Nicholas. You didn’t want them to paint a false narrative of him like they did so many other famous people. They were inhumane.

After the food arrived, you dug into your pasta and instantly lit up. “Oh my God, this is so good, Nick!” you exclaimed, your eyes wide with delight.

Nicholas smiled at you, leaning in to take a bite from your plate. Just as he tasted it, there was another flash. The paparazzi had caught the moment right as he savored the pasta.

You giggled, shaking your head. “I hope they got our good side,” you teased, causing both of you to burst into laughter.

When the meal was over, you reached for your purse, ready to pay for both of you, but Nicholas was one step ahead. He had already slipped your card out earlier and left it in the car. “I wanted to pay!” you said, playfully annoyed, crossing your arms.

He grinned at you, shaking his head. “As long as you’re with me, you won’t even open your purse,” he said smoothly. “You don’t have to pay for anything. I’m your boyfriend, and I’m going to make sure you feel good, even with the little things.”

You rolled your eyes playfully but couldn’t help smiling at how sweet and protective he was. He left a generous tip for the sweet waitress, who looked genuinely surprised. “Oh my God, thank you! I really needed this,” she said, her voice full of gratitude. She admired the gesture, clearly moved by his kindness.

He smiled humbly, but you could tell he was proud of making someone’s day.

“You didn’t have to do that, but you really helped someone today,” you said, smiling up at him.

As you got up to leave, the paparazzi were still lurking outside, snapping more photos. You had an idea. “Let’s give them something to talk about,” you said, grinning at Nicholas. He raised an eyebrow, intrigued.

You both struck a sexy pose for the cameras. Nicholas stood behind you, his hand casually resting on your waist, but just as the flashes went off, he cheekily grabbed your ass. You both laughed, knowing that picture would be all over the tabloids in no time, regrettably but you posed none the less, your hands on his chest, looking lovingly at the fine specimen of a man before you then placing a kiss on his lips.

With the flashes still going, you headed to the car, your security team ensuring the way was clear. As you got in, the paparazzi tried to shove their cameras into the car for more photos, almost hitting you in the face with their cameras. Nicholas quickly turned, his protective side kicking in.

“Back off, get out of my girlfriend’s face!” he snapped, glaring at them. You couldn’t help but feel a rush from the way he defended you, a little turned on by his assertiveness.

You both laughed together, the adrenaline still buzzing. As the driver sped off, you watched as the paparazzi tried to follow, but soon enough, they fell behind. You and Nicholas shared a satisfied smile, knowing you’d outpaced them.

When you and Nicholas finally arrived back at the hotel, you sighed in relief, glad to be there safely. As the car pulled into the hotel’s private garage, the day’s chaos finally seemed behind you. Earlier, you had thought about how these wild paparazzi chases could be dangerous, remembering the tragedy of the woman you admired, Princess Diana. It was believed that the paparazzi played a role in that accident, a sobering reminder of how things could spiral out of control.

Now, though, the two of you were safe inside, away from the frenzy. You decided to stay in for the night, curling up together in the cozy comfort of your suite. After changing into something comfortable, Nicholas ordered room service, and you both settled down on the bed. He wrapped his arm around you, pulling you close as you watched a movie.

He pressed a kiss to your forehead, then your cheek, before finding your lips. The kisses were soft and warm, a show of the love between you.

“I’m so proud of you,” you whispered, looking up at him. “For staying true to yourself today, even with everything going on. I love how grounded you are.”

He smiled at you, brushing stray curls behind your ear. “I wouldn’t want to do any of this with anyone else,” he replied softly. “I love you.”

As the night went on, you snuggled closer, feeling safe and loved in his arms. You reached for your phone, curious to what was brewing in the media. When you unlocked it, your eyes widened in shock.

“Oh my God,” you muttered, sitting up. Your boyfriend glanced over curiously as you scrolled through your feed. The pictures from the day had blown up all over social media. TMZ, The Shade Room, TikTok, everyone had caught onto the story. Headlines and comments were flooding in.

“This is the IT couple. This is a love story for the new age,” one article declared in bold letters.

People were raving about how happy they were to see Nicholas with a woman of color, and they couldn’t stop talking about how beautiful you were. You were overwhelmed, feeling both flattered and a bit surprised by all the attention.

He glanced at the screen, smiling softly before pulling you back against him. “You don’t need their compliments to know you’re beautiful,” he said, his voice low and affectionate. “I’m the lucky one. I get to be with you.”

You blushed, your heart swelling at his words. Leaning in, you kissed him gently on the lips before snuggling back into his chest. He planted another kiss on your forehead, and the two of you settled in for the night. Oh how you loved to be wrapped in the handsome man’s muscular arms.

[fallin2pieces]

let's get in the back of your cop car, officer (charlie swan x coquette!reader)

heavily inspired by playing dangerous by lana del rey <33

cw: MDNI age gap (reader is a freshman in college and charlie is in his 40s), dubcon, p in v, dry humping, blowjob, cunnilingus, choking

authors note: this is my first ever fic! also sorry for the inconsistencies, english isn't my first language :( also lmao this was supposed to be a blurb but i got carried away 😭

- your parents were away for a business trip which left you home alone during break. you always had the nasty habit of smoking, and being home alone it was an opportunity to smoke inside your house.

- as you were cooking dinner, you were smoking in your kitchen, using your stove top to light a cigarette.

- you lazily dragged the cigarette across your lips, inhaling the smoke as you sat on your kitchen countertop.

- as the night progressed, you washed the dishes and got ready for bed

- little did you know, you've accidentally left the stove on.

- 4:38am. “fuck.” you woke up disheveled in your pink silky night gown, coughing as smoke covered your walls, filling your lungs.

- crying as you run down your stairs, you’ve realized what you’ve done.

- shakily, you reach for the family phone by your paisley printed couch and started to dial the police department as guilt engulfs you.

- “forks police department!” an older man on the other side of the phone responds. you knew it was wrong. you knew it was insensitive. maybe you were just a girl but something about the rasp and the timbre in the policeman’s voice made your insides turn.

- later on, you were sitting on your porch, the cold washington rain dampening the steps you sit on, your hair wet, lips and eyes puffy as you cry from guilt.

- a car pulls up in your driveway as a tall dark figure approaches you

- “ma'am you called, are you okay?” the same hoarse voice from the phone asks.

- you just start sobbing. you were guilty. you’ve already damaged your parents’ house.

- as the older man approaches you, he sits down at the porch with you to comfort you.

- as he sits down the smell of cigarettes and cheap perfume engulfs your senses.

- you look up at the police officer, he was even more attractive (and mature) than you imagined.

- this is wrong. you thought this isn’t the right situation to whore around.

- “i-i didn’t mean to do that officer..” you croak out, you started sobbing and he puts his arm around you

- “my name is chief swan. would you wanna sit in the car as i question you?” he asks.

- you nod rapidly as you got up and walked towards the backseat of the car. "this is the right opportunity" your mind lingered.

- “so what caused the fire?” his voice reverberating inside the empty police car as he closes the car door.

- you admit what you’ve done, stuttering and stuttering through tears.

- he just looks at you "oh poor you so alone and fragile." he thought after all you were just a girl and you didn’t mean any of this

- “officer is there anyway that you wouldn’t press charges?” you looked at him with hungry and intent eyes.

- you felt pretty bare right now. in your light pink nighties. the way he was taller, bigger and had more authority than you do… oh you felt so weak, like a bunny waiting for its predator to attack.

- as messed up as it sounds, this made you feel very warm and fuzzy, his presence made you warm and fuzzy. the way his mustache sits on his face and how his messy brown hair stands up, he looks a little sleep deprived and tired, probably from his police job. he’s just a little older than your parents. just perfect, you thought to yourself.

- you’ve never been attracted to a man his age but something about him being an authority figure made you insides turn in excitement, which made you yearn for more.

- “please officer..” you plead as you get on your knees, very intent to seduce the older man.

- he groans at the sight of you. “no no, sweetie we can’t-” he breathes out as he adjusts himself to try to hide the obvious tent in his pants.

- “officer i’ll be good i promise… just don’t press any charges on me…” you mumbled. it’s working you thought as your manicured hands fumble with his silver belt buckle

- “oh my sweet sweet girl.” he groans as he cups your sweet face as his thumb plays with your pink plush lips as he inserts his digits in your mouth making you moan around his fingers.

- “i shouldn’t be doing this.” charlie thought to himself

- you adjust yourself from kneeling, the roughness of the police car’s floormat bruising and ever so slightly scraping your delicate knees

- you use your teeth to unzip his pants as your eyes never leaved his, his hands cupping your face as he tucks your hair away.

- as you palm him through his boxers, wetness pools in your floral underwear.

- eager for some friction, you decided to use your fingers to press on your clothed cunt.

- as you fumble on his waistband, his cock still soft you whimper at the sight of his size.

- oh poor man.. you thought he was probably so pent up, no one probably took care of his sexual needs :(

- you start kissing on his cock sweetly as you look up at him..

- oh the way he stares down at you makes you feel inferior, you moan at the thought.

- slowly, you put his cock in your mouth.

- starting slow… going deeper and deeper you grow desperate for pleasure of your own

- he groans at the sight of you… so cockdrunk.. so needy for him.. it’s been years since someone wanted him this bad.

- “you’re such a good girl for me.” charlie manages to groan out, he holds you by your throat forcing you to look up

- picking up the pace, you moan and gag around his length sending him over the edge.

- he notices you yearn for attention down there :( so he signals you to stop and he instructs you to straddle him.

- with his cock out, you straddle him, kissing him hungrily as your clothed cunt pressed against his bare girth.

- as you took in his tongue, the taste of gas station coffee and cigarettes intertwined with your saliva.

- he eventually starts creeping his calloused hands to your ass, squeezing and kneading the soft flesh as he rides your nightie up making you whimper and soften into his touch.

- as he finds his rough hands up and down your body, he fondles with your breasts, nipples erect from the cold washington breeze, the straps of your nightgown falling to the side as he takes your tits out to look at them.

- oh they were so perky and so soft. he made his way down with his mouth, lapping at your soft skin, eventually finding his tongue wrapped around your sensitive nipple.

- you throw your head back moaning at the pleasure he gave you, rocking back and forth slowly finding some friction as your baby pink painted nails dug crescents into his shoulder.

- he reaches down, to lift the skirt of your nightie, reaching down to your panty clad cunt, taking his thumb and firmly tracing circles on your clit.

- you elicit a moan and collapse into him, his big strong arms supporting you as you reach your high.

- suddenly you felt brave, you pull your panties to the side and you sink down to him.

- “n-no sweetie we can’t-” he whimpers out as you lower into him, as he throws his head back.

- “please officer let me be good.. let me be a good girl..” you cry out in desperation for some relief.

- you just sat there, letting your tight cunt adjust around his big cock your as he wraps his big strong arms around you.

- “baby.. your cunt is so tight.. fuck—” he pants out while looking at your beautiful face.

- you weren’t that experienced per se… only being a freshman in college, having one night stands with guys your age that you barely even know who treat you with only lust no love, but with chief swan, it felt intimate and romantic. the way he holds you and kisses you made you melt into his arms. it made you feel like you were cared for.

- slowly but surely you went up and down, savoring his length, you’ve never had someone this.. big and girthy (and mature).

- charlie being on the older side, didn’t have enough stamina, so you were using him like a dildo over bouncing up and down his cock as you looked at how his face was painted with pleasure.

- he looks at you with so much lust and love in his eyes, he haven’t had someone take care of him like this for years.

- he pressed his calloused thumb on your clit rubbing circles making you see stars.

- this was the most pleasure you’ve received from a man.

- “such a good girl for me, taking my cock like this, don’t worry i won’t give you charges princess, no one has to know. ” he looks at you firmly.

- you shake uncontrollably. poor girl can’t take all that cock inside of her :(

- you were making his pants all wet from your juices, all the mixed sensations of him nipping at your soft skin, his thumb pressed to your clit and his cock in you was enough to send you over the edge.

- “fuckfuckfuck-” you whimper out as you come undone on him, your cunt fluttering around his fat cock.

- “you’re doing so good for me.” he says as he carries your waist up as he thrusts inside you and spills his cum inside of you.

- he quickly pulls out, pushing you to lay down on the car seat.

- chief swan got on his knees, pulls you panties to the side and started lapping at your freshly fucked cunt, his mustache tickling your clit as his mouth worked on you.

- you squeezed your legs together, pinning his head steady between your legs as he overstimulated you, as you squirm and pull on his hair.

- he suddenly knelt up, slapping his cock on your clothed cunt, rubbing it up and down your slit.

- your eyes roll back so far back it felt like you could see the back of your skull.

- “officer please-” you moaned out, chest heaving. everything about him was intoxicating. you fucking in a police car only added to the thrill, the scent of sex and his cheap cologne filled your lungs.

- “please what? use your words sweetheart.” he said between groans, as he held your chin with one hand so you could make eye contact with him.

- his thrusts became more erratic and his hips stuttered.

- “please cum on my face officer..” you said embarrassed. you couldn’t believe this filth was coming out your mouth.

- he knelt up, rapidly stroking his length as his seed painted your delicate face.

- meeting chief swan was definitely an experience.

happy father’s day to all my dilfs out there

[anifever]

𐙚˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 you gotta stop sneakin’ through my window, dal.

god, could your room be anymore pink? .ᐟ ₊˚⊹♡

[7s3ven]

NOBODY’S SON, NOBODY’S DAUGHTER. luke (pjo) pt. 2

PART 1 > PART 2 > PART 3 > PART 4 (last pt)

( masterlist )

IN WHICH… Y/N is finally claimed by her father, who turns out to be Zeus. Now, she’s stuck in an empty cabin as the only forbidden child of Zeus. Luke, on the other hand, is thrilled to be playing her knight in shining armour and getting her through each lonely day.

“I’m in the wind, you’re in the water. Nobody’s son, nobody’s daughter.”

( follows the show - kind of just a oneshot bc i’m bored )

Warnings : a little bit of jealousy, arguing, Y/N being indecisive and confused (real), not proof-read

—

TAG LIST : @hottiewifeyyyy @kamiliora @be-bap @finnickodaddy @th0tblckgrl @shoyofroyoyoyo @csifandom @uniquely-her @imafrkinsimp @syraxesrevenge @ahh-chickens @dracoslovergirl @midnightstar-90 @8812-342 @liv1104 @krkiiz @arialikestea @ch16rles @lizziesliz @maryclx01 @jennapancake @lukecastellandefender @yuminako @coryoskywalker @julielightwood @crybabysbakery @jsbaby @liviessun @p3pperm1nttea @angie-esc @purplerose291 @prettylilsimp @10ava01 @froggiesstalks @happy-jj @czennieszn @gisellesprettylies @loveyava @kkrenae

I really hope this part is good enough 🙏

—

Being claimed was perhaps worse than staying in the Hermes cabin. The Zeus cabin was completely empty, much to Y/N’s dismay. Percy was unlucky enough to be a forbidden child too. Looks like neither of them would be having any half-siblings.

“I always knew she was destined for greatness.” Clarisse would say as if the life of a forbidden child wasn’t lonely and utterly isolated.

“Knock, knock.”

But there was one person who could light up the dim Zeus cabin.

“Hope you don’t mind that I brought strawberries. I picked ‘em myself. It was not easy work, let me tell you.” Luke chuckled as he walked in, shutting the door behind him. “Nice place.” He sarcastically said, staring at the cobwebs that littered the walls.

Y/N stared at him, unimpressed and unamused. “Being claimed was supposed to feel great. But I’m just back at square one again.” She huffed and took a strawberry Luke offered her. He sat beside Y/N, gesturing her to continue.

“You know, at least the Hermes cabin had another people. I’m stuck in this deserted cabin because my father finally decided that he wanted to see me! All I’m wondering is why it took so long. Why bother claiming me now?! Percy got claimed in under five days. I know people who have been claimed in one. Why did it take me ten years?! At least I know why I always attract trouble now. It’s because Zeus, that utter man whore, is my dad!”

Luke’s eyebrows silently raised at her words. “You’re welcome in the Hermes cabin any time, Y/N. Don’t forget that. I don’t think your dad was ignoring you… he was probably just waiting.”

“Yeah. Waiting until I finally proved myself to him. Because a child of Zeus should be a prodigy. No normal feat is allowed. It has to be impressive to gain his attention. How dumb.” Y/N scoffed.

“I was fine without him. I’ve gone my entire life never hearing from him and after ten years of being at camp, suddenly he wants to play daddy? He should’ve left me alone. But hey, at least you guys have more room in the Hermes cabin. I heard Chiron was going to move me.”

“What? But you’re practically part of the family. I mean, not exactly. It’d be weird if we were related because… you know… we’re friends and being such good friends with siblings seems weird.” Luke spoke so fast that Y/N couldn’t understand him.

She silently stared at him. “… You’re weird. Chiron just wanted to make more room for the newcomers. And, you know, I had been there for so long that I wasn’t considered new.”

“You okay, though? Your cuts aren’t still hurting? You don’t feel sick, right?” Luke carefully inspected her face and bruised arms, eyebrows furrowed in worry.

“Luke, I’m fine.” She reassured him, laughing. “Nothing hurts anymore.”

“Guess I’ve got to let you win the next game now.” He sighed. “I can’t believe you guessed Poseidon and got it right.”

“I took a wild guess. I wasn’t expecting it to be correct.”

Luke shrugged and stood up. “I need to go check up on some kids. A new group just arrived. Will you be alright by yourself? I can always go get Clarisse.”

Y/N stared up at him and a part of Luke wished she would ask him to stay. To stay in the stuffy cabin and just… talk.

“I think I need some alone time right now.” She softly smiled, resisting the urge to ask him not to walk out, to keep her company. “I just need to process all the shit that went down.”

Luke chuckled, ruffling her hair. “That’s my girl.” He began to walk away before he turned around last minute. “Hey, Y/N… thanks for staying by my side.”

“No problem. Thanks for being my friend, Luke.”

With a wounded heart and the embarrassment of being friend-zoned hanging high over his head, Luke walked out of the Zeus cabin.

Y/N didn’t see Luke again until a few days later. He was always so busy with the new kids but he still had time to leave a small box of strawberries on her porch.

It was dinner when Y/N could finally speak to Luke. She smiled at him and subtly waved and he grinned back. He had been talking with Chris about a boring topic but his eyes lit up when he saw Y/N. Luke stood up to sit with her before he was quickly intercepted.

“Luke.” One of the new girls said, staring up at him with her big doe eyes. She was claimed the moment she stepped into camp by Aphrodite. She seemed to already be her mother’s favourite. “Are you free to sit with me and my friends? We want to ask you a few questions.”

Luke was pulled away by the girl, leaving Y/N to watch him sheepishly grin. Y/N’s smile faltered. “I think he’s avoiding me.” She muttered to Percy, resting her cheek on the palm of her hand. She felt a twisted knot of jealousy well up as a girl giggled and grabbed Luke’s arm. And he let her.

The younger boy looked up in confusion. “Who? Luke? I don’t think so. Girls just seem to really like him.”

Y/N frowned but didn’t say anything else. She could only stare again as the girls around Luke laughed as he uttered something with a bashful smile.

“I’m turning in early.” Y/N said, standing up. She pushed her plate of dessert towards Percy, who slowly took it.

“You good?” He asked.

“Yeah. I’m not feeling well so I think I’m going to sleep early. Good night, Percy.” She deeply inhaled as she walked away, catching Luke’s attention.

“Excuse me, ladies. I’ll be back. I need to talk to someone.” He hurriedly got up, racing after Y/N. Percy, who was eating his second serving of cake, muffled a laugh. Luke was so whipped.

“Y/N.” The brunette boy finally caught up to her. He grabbed her arm, spinning her around. “Why are you leaving early? We haven’t talked for weeks so I thought we could use today to catch up.”

Y/N stared at him in confusion before she turned her head and quietly laughed. She covered her mouth to conceal the noise. “Luke… it’s only been three days.”

His face dropped and he cleared his throat. “I know… I was testing you. That’s all.” Yet his eyes looked at everything but Y/N. “So, how has your cabin been?”

“Lonely. It doesn’t feel the same without Chris ranting about Clarisse.” Y/N sighed, lightly biting the inside of her cheek.

“I’m not sure if I can rant about Clarisse like Chris but I could try keeping you company.” Luke offered, gazing at Y/N with eyes that begged her to agree.

She merely shrugged, not stopping Luke from strutting into her cabin and lying down on her bed. He outstretched his arms, confusing Y/N. “Hug.” Was all he said.

Y/N was never much of an affectionate person but Luke certainly was. His gestures ranged from secretly fiddling with her fingers to picking her up and swinging her around in the middle of the battle arena.

Begrudgingly, Y/N closed the distance between them. Luke grinned, pulling her closer. A few moments later, Y/N attempted to pull away. Luke prevented her from doing so. “Five more minutes.” He whispered in her ear.

But those promised five minutes turned into an hour.

And a peaceful hour turned into all night.

And all night turned into the sun rising and Clarisse waking the pair up.

“So this is where you’ve been hiding, Luke.” The Ares girl snickered, folding her arms over her chest. “Your siblings are wondering where you went. I assume by the lack of clothes on the floor that you two did nothing. How surprising for you, Luke.”

“Clarisse.” Y/N warned, sitting up.

“Okay, okay. I’m going. See you at breakfast, Y/N.” Clarisse sent her friend a teasing wink before she slithered off, laughing to herself.

“Sorry. I fell asleep.” Luke muttered, stretching. He not-so-subtly placed an arm around Y/N and when she didn’t shove him away, he smiled.

“It’s fine. I’ve already prepared myself for whatever gossip is about to spread around camp.” Y/N leaned back, shaking her head, while Luke chuckled.

“Nothing we haven’t dealt with before.” Luke retorted.

Camp Half-Blood seemed obsessed with the little thing going on between Y/N and Luke. Friendship, romance, confusing situationship. The campers called it many things.

“I’m so tired.” Y/N muttered, rubbing her tired eyes. Luke took that as his chance to gaze at her. His eyes traced over the bridge of her nose and the curve of her Cupid’s bow.

He smiled to himself, pressing his face deeper into the crook of Y/N’s neck.

“Luke. We need to get up.” As if suddenly uncomfortable with his close proximity, Y/N stood up.

“Oh. Yeah. I know how you can’t miss breakfast because you get cranky without it.” Luke chuckled while Y/N shoved him.

“Get out, Luke!” Y/N exclaimed, throwing a pillow at him. He bellowed out a laugh as he ran towards the exit.

“See you at breakfast, sweetheart!”

Y/N, with flushed cheeks and a racing mind, barged into the Ares cabin. “Clarisse.” She said, holding onto the doorframe for support. “I need your help.”

“What do you need?” Clarisse questioned as they walked side by side. Y/N sighed.

“Well, for starters, Luke is acting weird. I mean, he was always kind of weird but it’s gotten… more extreme. He’s getting so close and… calling me these pet names. What am I supposed to do? And why does it make me feel shy? Clarisse, help me!”

Y/N gripped her friend’s shoulders tightly. Clarisse lightly snorted. “Y/N, he’s just in love. Let the boy be.”

“In… love? W-With… me? In love with me?!” Y/N’s mind was spinning by now and it looked like this was her mid-life crisis. “He’s not… he can’t be… no… no… No! I have to go, Clarisse!”

Clarisse watched as Y/N sprinted off with the speed of a lightning bolt. “Haha. It’s so fun messing with them.”

“Hey, Clarisse. What’d you say to Y/N?” Luke immediately filled in Y/N’s spot. He furrowed his eyebrows, glancing at Y/N.

“I just told her how in love you are with her.” Clarisse winked and laughed at Luke’s appalled face.

“You… did what?” He questioned, panicking. “Why… why would you do that?! Clarisse! Shit!”

Luke, just like Y/N, rushed off. Clarisse smiled again. “So fun.”

Y/N hid within the comforts of her own cabin. She was supposed to teach some of the newbies archery but she was sure Clarisse could fill in for her.

“Luke… in love with me… no way.” She shook her head and deeply sighed, clutching onto her blanket. “He likes that Aphrodite girl.”

“Hey, sweetheart.” Speak of the devil. Luke opened the door, grinning at her. “Sorry I’m late. I tried meditating but I ended up falling asleep.” Classic him. “I brought you some food. I gotta teach some kids sword-fighting soon but I thought I’d just leave this here.”

Luke had one leg out of the door before Y/N stopped him. “Luke, can you maybe, I don’t know… stay over tonight? Again? It feels less lonely with you.” Y/N spoke slowly, as if testing the waters.

“Uh, yeah. Yeah. Sure. I’d be happy to keep you company. You can count on me, Sparky.”

Y/N scoffed, staring at Luke with her lips parted. “Sparky? No way are you calling me that.”

“Too bad. See ya, Sparky!” Luke managed to close the door before the pillow Y/N tossed his way hit him. She scoffed, looking around yet no words came out of her mouth.

“Sparky… Sparky?!” Y/N exclaimed in disbelief. “What sort of nickname is that?!”

Luke, who stood outside the door and heard Y/N, chuckled. He ran his tongue over his teeth, “Cute.”

A quiet knock on the door interrupted Y/N’s half-conscious nap. She stumbled to the entrance, slowly twisting the knob. “Hey.” She mumbled to Luke, who was holding an armful of snacks.

“Hey, Sparky.” He greeted her with his usual boyish smile. “Did I wake you?”

“I was just taking a small nap. You can always let yourself in, by the way.” Y/N muttered, yawning.

“I didn’t wanna be rude.” Luke replied as he stepped inside, brushing past Y/N. “Hey. I have an idea.” He suddenly said, spinning around. Y/N raised her eyebrows, gesturing him to continue. “I know you don’t like hanging out in this cabin so what do you say we check out the lake?”

“That’s breaking the rules.” Y/N said, shaking her head.

“Come on, I wanna go on a walk. And I’m already breaking rules being here. A few more can’t hurt.”

Y/N wanted to say no but how could she when Luke was looking at her like that?

“Fine.” She softly agreed. Luke dropped the snacks onto Y/N’s bed before dragging her out of her cabin. She didn’t even have time to grab a jacket.

Luke placed a finger over his lips, telling Y/N to be quiet. The two carefully creeped through the words, quietly giggling as they shoved each other.

“It’s prettier at night.” Y/N whispered, staring at the lake that sparkled in the moonlight. Luke smiled, nodding his head.

“Yeah.” He replied, but he wasn’t looking at the glittering water. He was looking at Y/N. “It’s absolutely beautiful.”

Y/N turned her head, faltering when she saw that Luke was already gazing at her. His lips curved into a bright smile.

“So, so… beautiful.” He repeated, staring into her eyes.

“Luke.” She muttered, thickly gulping. Butterflies swirled around in her stomach. After years of pushing down her growing feelings for Luke, they were coming back.

“Y/N.” He chuckled, adjusting his stance. But he slipped and fell into the lake. Y/N gasped, staring into the murky darkness.

“Luke?” She called out. “Luke!” He resurfaced, spitting out a mouthful of water. A few moments passed before Y/N burst into laughter. She stepped forward but tripped over a stray tree root. She hit the water with a loud slap, shocking Luke. He gasped, quickly swimming over. “Sparky, you good?” Luke questioned, holding her tightly.

She coughed. “It hurt a little but I’m good. Are you okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah. I’m good. Thanks for asking, Sparky.” He twirled a strand of Y/N’s wet hair around his finger, his gaze flickering to her lips. “Don’t kill me for this, Y/N.” He whispered, leaning forward.

His lips pressed against Y/N’s, who froze in shock. The kiss only lasted a moment before Luke pulled away, holding back the animalistic urge to do it again.

“I won’t kill you… if you don’t kill me.” Y/N quietly responded, grabbing Luke by the front of his shirt and tugging him forward.

The second kiss was less controlled, more wild. Luke held Y/N tightly, scared she would slip away if he lowered his guard. In this moment, Luke didn’t care about his drenched t-shirt or his soaking hair. All he cared about, and had cared about for the last few years, was the girl in front of him

“You kissed?!” Clarisse screamed, tugging on the ends of her curled hair.

“Hey! I don’t want everybody to know!” Y/N hurriedly shushed the girl. They were hanging around in the arena for some extra sword training and Y/N clumsily mentioned last night.

“Okay, but seriously. Reel back. You guys kissed? Not once, but twice? Oh, man, Y/N. You are so whipped for Luke!”

“I am not! Besides,” Y/N fidgeted with her fingers as she spoke, “I heard one of the new Aphrodite girls is interested in Luke.”

“What? And you’re just gonna let her have him? You’ve been crushing on Luke since you first saw him.”

“I wouldn’t call it that! It was admiration.” Y/N quickly snapped to defend herself. Clarisse mockingly raised an eyebrow.

“You couldn’t stop gushing over how he pushed you out of harm’s way when you got claimed.” The Ares kid pointed out.

Y/N huffed. “I mean, I’m a feminist, obviously. But… I wouldn’t really mind him saving me. I’m not entirely opposed… to the idea. I’m just torn, okay?!”

“What are you confused about? Luke obliviously has the hots for you too.”

“Luke and I have been good friends for ages! I’ve known him for ages too! If we start dating and it goes up in flames… I don’t only lose a partner but I also lose a friend! There’s so many factors to consider. So many things that could go wrong.”

“You already kissed. Sooner or later, he’s gonna confront you.” Clarisse’s eyes flickered to a figure behind Y/N, “And looks like he chose now. You wanna talk to him or do you want me to make a distraction?”

“Distraction, please. I’m not ready. I need to understand my own feelings before dealing with his.” Y/N practically begged Clarisse. Being such a good friend, the daughter of Ares nodded.

“I got your back, girl.” She walked past Y/N, blocking Luke’s path. “Yo, Luke, you interested in having a little spar?”

“Uh, actually, I need to talk to Y/N.” Luke uttered, glancing over at the H/C-haired girl.

“Y/N needs to check on someone. One of the Ares kids got badly injured. You go ahead, Y/N. I’ll be with you soon.” Clarisse waved her off. Y/N silently hurried off, avoiding all eye contact with Luke.

She wasn’t ready to face him just yet. I mean, what do you say to a friend you kissed? More like made out with. And passionately, might I add. Beside a lake at night.

Y/N knew Luke would go looking for her an hour before curfew, so that’s exactly why she sought refuge in the Ares cabin.

“This feels stupid.” She murmured as she rolled under one of the bed, shooing the dust away.

“He’s obviously going to try and ask Clarisse about your whereabouts. You only have to hide under there until he leaves.” Erin, a girl who was a year younger than Y/N, spoke. As predicted, Luke knocked at the door.

“Hey.” He said when Erin swung it open. “Is Y/N or Clarisse here? I need to talk to ether of them but Y/N would be preferred.”

Erin shook her head. “No. Clarisse is showering right now. Maybe check Apollo’s cabin for Y/N. She might be helping out with the injured. She does that sometimes.”

The second Luke disappeared, Y/N crawled out from under the bed. She combed away the dust in her hair. “I know what you’re thinking.” She grumbled, looking up at Erin. “Why am I going through all this trouble? It’s complicated. I’m not ready to face him… yet.”

Erin hummed as she stepped towards Y/N. “None of us will be helpful with advice but if you really want help, visit the Aphrodite cabin.”

That’s how Y/N found herself standing on a porch decorated with pink and hearts and shining pearls. She sighed to herself before she hesitatingly knocked. A short blond girl answered the door immediately.

“We’ve been waiting for you.” She said while Y/N stared at her in discomfort. “Not in a creepy way, though. I swear. We knew you’d need help with you-know-who so we kind of planned it already. Come in.”

The girl warmly guided Y/N inside, beaming. “Our head counsellor isn’t here at the moment but Mai should be plenty of help!” The blond girl pointed over to a brunette who sat on her bed, reading a book. She was dressed in black shorts and a pink crop top. But when Mai looked up, Y/N was sure she was judging her.

“On second thought,” Y/N nervously said, “Maybe I should come back another time. Maybe in the afternoon?”

“The time you come doesn’t matter.” Mai piped up, closing her book. She gazed at Y/N curiously. “You’re afraid of expressing your feelings, aren’t you?”

“I didn’t know this was a therapy session.” Y/N lightly joked.

“Y/N, it’s obvious to everybody that you harbour some feelings towards Luke.” Mai said, pressing her pink-tinted lips into a thin line. “You guys are like the dynamic duo. I understand that dating someone who’s also a friend is scary but sometimes you’ve got to take the risk.”

“If you’re scared about going back to your cabin and running into Luke, you can crash here for the night.” The blonde girl from before offered. Nobody else seemed to have any problems with that so Y/N agreed.

She ended up on the bunk next to Mai, her unlicensed love therapist. Y/N tossed and turned but she still couldn’t fall asleep. She quietly groaned, rubbing her eyes.

“Can’t sleep either, huh?” Mai piped up, pursing her lips.

“No. I can’t help but worry.”

“Let me ask you one question, Y/N. Do you like him?”

“Luke?”

“I didn’t say a name.”

Y/N groaned again. “Fine. You got me. Yes. I guess I like him. I like his smile and how he’s always giving me food and how he barges in when I’m feeling lonely. I think his curled hair is adorable and there’s no other guy better-looking than him to me. But… I’m scared that I just like his platonically. Or what if we do date and I end up losing him?”

Mai smiled. “Don’t stress over it too much. You’re the daughter of Zeus, after all.”

“Yeah, thanks. Good night, Mai.”

“Night, Y/N.”

Luke approached Y/N the next day at breakfast. He let out a subtle sigh of relief when she didn’t run away. “Hey,” He whispered to her, tapping her shoulder and interrupting her conversation with Erin and Clarisse. “Can we talk? Alone?”

“Uh, yeah.” Y/N exchanged looks with both of the girls, who nodded and mouthed good luck. “What did you want to talk about?” Y/N asked when they were in the safety of her cabin and away from all the prying eyes. She played with the hem of her bright orange shirt.

“Forgive me for how blunt I’m going to be but what are we, Y/N?” Luke asked, not beating around the bush.

“We’re friends.” Y/N choked out, her conversation with Mai last night going down the drain. Perhaps it was selfish but a part of her wanted to remain friends because at least that way, neither of them would get hurt.

“No.” Luke wildly shook his head, “Friends don’t kiss. Friends don’t spend the night in the other’s cabin. Friends don’t look at each other like we do. Friends don’t sneak out in the middle of the night to go to a lake and end up making out! And now you’re ignoring me!”

His voice increased in volume the more he spoke.

“That was a mistake, Luke! I-I didn’t meant to! It just happened! I’m not ignoring you! What makes you think that?!”

“Well, what am I supposed to think, Y/N? You’re always running off and our conversations are up and down now. Sometimes we don’t talk for days! Sometimes you seem obsessed with me! I don’t know what to think!”

“That’s rich, coming from you!” Y/N furrowed her eyebrows. “If you’re not with Chris then you’re with that Aphrodite girl! You practically ignore me when you’re with her!” Y/N harshly poked his chest.

“I do not! And back to the previous conversation, was it really a mistake? Was hugging me a mistake? Was staring so adoringly at me a mistake? Was kissing me a mistake?! Maybe it was a mistake to you, but it wasn’t to me.” Luke caressed her face, holding it tightly. “Kissing you… will never be a mistake to me. Never, ever.”

Y/N gulped, practically shaking in Luke’s embrace. His lips lightly brushed her’s and she flinched.

“Sparky- Princess- Y/N,” He finally decided on what to call her in the heated moment. “I have feelings for you. And I have for a long time. So if you don’t like me back… just tell me. Because I can’t spend the rest of my life chasing after you. I get that you might be in denial but once I walk through those doors, I’m giving up.”

“Luke…”

“Do you like me or not?”

“Luke… please…” Y/N didn’t really know what she was begging for. Tears welled up in her eyes as he took a small step towards the door.

“Do you like me or not?” He repeated in a firmer tone.

Y/N silently stared at the ground, her hands clenched into fists.

“I guess I was wrong about you returning my feelings… I’m sorry for bothering you. I’ll leave now.”

Y/N’s body moved on its own as she reached out to grab his arm and harshly pull him back. Her voice was supposed to be gentle but hanging out with Clarisse seemed to have an impact on her.

“Of course I like you, Luke! How could I not? But I’m afraid and confused and I don’t know what to do. I see the way other girls look at you. They like you. And I’m scared that I don’t stand a chance against them. And what if we mess up, Luke? If we date then break up, we won’t be able to be friends again. I can’t handle that!”

“I don’t think I can be just friends with you right now, Y/N.” Luke softly replied, taking Y/N’s hand in his and pressing a light kiss to it. Y/N stared at him with flushed cheeks. “I don’t care about any of those other girls. The only person I care about is you. We don’t have to rush into a relationship but I just need to hear you say that you like me. That’s all I need for now. Can you do that for me?”

Y/N shakily inhaled. “I…” She hesitated. “I like you, Luke.”

Luke pulled her into a hug, smiling as he inhaled the sweet scent of Y/N’s perfume. “That’s all I needed to hear, Sparky.”

[blackdollette]

₊˚⊹ 𐦍༘⋆₊ ⊹ "𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐛𝐨𝐝𝐲 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐢'𝐦 𝐚 𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥, 𝐨𝐟𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐞𝐫." | 𝐬. 𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝

⊹ ࣪ ˖ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: bau!unsub!female!reader x dom!spencer

⊹ ࣪ ˖ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 521

⊹ ࣪ ˖ 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: smut with a little plot, praise, dominant spencer, he get's a little forceful

“is this what psychotic girls like you fantasize about..? huh..?”

spencer’s chest pressed against your back, your saliva coating his fingers as he curled them against your tongue. how ironic was it that he was fucking the criminal that had cost him hours of sleep right on his personal desk?

you were what the BAU ranked a “stalker” class unsub. an erotomanic individual who had convinced themself that someone completely out of their grasp was head over heels for them. not particularly dangerous, but more than desperate to get a taste of what you had been longing for for countless years.

you had watched him in action for as long as you had served the fbi. every worthless factoid and obsolete piece of information he spat out tattooed itself in your brain, making you more whipped for him with each passing day. and by the time you got caught for your criminalistic tendencies, you wanted nothing more than to have his body against yours.

earlier in the day, he had asked you to stay late at the office with him, said it was private stuff that he wanted to discuss with you. but surely, the BAU’s boy genius had used his skills to see through your semi-flawless facade. and now he was dealing with you the only way he knew how.

and you had gotten exactly what you wanted, but at what cost? 

spencer’s cock slipped out of your hole, the tip swollen and red with anger as he teased your puffy entrance with it. he reentered with a deep groan, your pussy making an audible squelch sound as you toyed with your clit.

“i-i’ve always noticed you…” he started, “...giving me those eyes of yours during conferences… trying to get me alone at any possible chance…”

your face pressed into a pile of paperwork, mewls and moans and little sobs slipping from your parted lips. a harsh slap landed on your ass, making you squeal.

“...and you really thought you’d get away with it, huh? or maybe you just wanted this outcome. smart girl…”

the rapid, almost painful rhythm of his thrusts adjusted to a softer pace, the brutal abuse on your cervix reaching a halt. you panted greedily, arching your back against him in an attempt to feel him stretch you out again. he pulled his fingers out of your mouth, drawing sloppy threads of saliva from your lips.

“i wonder how the team’s gonna feel about this. i’d be a real shame if they found out about this little game you’ve been playing…”

your blood ran cold. it hadn’t even occuured to you that you had gotten caught in this scheme of yours. and now spencer had the power to ruin your life right in his hands. you opened your mouth, starting to beg and plead for his forgiveness, but his lips found yours and shut you up immediately.

he moved himself against you, feeling the vibrations of your whimpers jittering through his veins. he pulled away, taking your pretty face into his firm grip and staring daggers at you.

“then i guess they’ll just never find out… ”

[0stargirl0]

He is my national anthem 🇺🇸🦅 🫡

[simp4eshal]

mornin sweetheart

spencer x reader

warnings: smut, fluff, reader has a messy room, kinda unrequited love but not really, it’s okay (I wrote this in one sitting when I woke up)

Spencer Reid yawned as he stretched his arms above his head, the soft cotton of his t-shirt caressing his skin. He'd been dreaming of something important, something urgent, but the details were already slipping away from him as he opened his eyes. The unfamiliar room came into focus, the pale blue walls, the messy piles of clothes on the floor, and the faint smell of lavender that seemed to permeate the air. As he sat up, taking in his surroundings, he noticed something that made his heart skip a beat.

There, in the corner of the room, was a figure. A familiar figure, wearing nothing but a pair of skimpy shorts and a lacy bra that left little to the imagination. It was you, it had to be. The way you moved, the way you held yourself…it could only be you. He couldn't help but smile as he watched you go about your business, tidying up the mess with such ease and grace.

With a contented sigh, Spencer patted the bed beside him, picturing you sitting down with him, maybe even leaning against his side as you continued to work. The thought sent a shiver down his spine, and he felt a stirring in his pants that he hadn't experienced in a few hours. Unable to resist any longer, he reached down and began to adjust himself through his sweatpants, his breath coming faster as he imagined what it would feel like to have you here with him right now.

As you bend down to pick up a stray shoe from the floor, your back arches ever so slightly, revealing the smooth curve of your ass, and Spencer's gaze is drawn to it like a magnet. He watches intently as you straighten up again, your breasts pressing against the thin material of your bra, and feels his heart race in his chest. He wishes he could touch you, feel your skin against his own, taste your lips again. But for now, he'll settle for this - the sight of you, looking so damn sexy and beautiful in your room.

Suddenly, you glance over your shoulder at him, your eyes meeting his in the mirror above the dresser. There's a smile tugging at the corner of your lips, and Spencer feels like his entire world has just shifted on its axis. In that moment, he knows that he can't wait any longer. He pushes himself up off the bed, his erection now painfully obvious through his sweatpants, and crosses the room to stand behind you. His hands find their way to your hips, gripping tightly as he leans forward to nuzzle your neck.

"You're so amazing," he whispers, breath hot against your skin. "I just want to take care of you..." He trails kisses down your spine, feeling the soft curves of your ass press against his groin as he does so. His cock twitches in response, and he knows he can't hold back anymore. With one swift movement, he spins you around in his arms, crushing his lips against yours, his hand moving to unbutton his sweatpants as he does so.

You moan into the kiss, your own desire matching his as your fingers dig into his shoulders. You arch your back, offering him access to your bra, and he gratefully accepts, yanking it off and tossing it aside. Your breasts spill free, and Spencer's mouth waters at the sight. He cups one in his hand, rubbing his thumb across the hardened peak, and then takes it into his mouth, sucking greedily. You cry out, your hips bucking against him as your need spirals out of control, wild for him only.

He pulls back, panting, and looks down at you, his eyes dark with desire. "Tell me you want this," he growls, his fingers finding their way between your legs. You nod frantically, and he groans as he feels how wet you already are. Without another word, he pushes you back against the bed, climbing on top of you. You struggle a bit to get rid of your shorts, but once you do, his hands find their way to your core. As he caresses your entrance, and somehow free his cock of its confined space, and thrusts his hips forward, sliding across your lips before burying himself deep inside you. Your moans mingle with his as you both lose control, your bodies moving together in a rhythm that feels so right, so perfect. Almost too much.

Spencer looks down at you, his eyes full of love and lust, as he begins to move faster, harder, deeper. Your nails scrape down his back, leaving little red lines in their wake, and he feels the familiar tightening in his abdomen that means he's close. With a final thrust, he comes, his body shuddering as he releases himself into you. You wrap your legs around his hips, holding him tightly as your own orgasm crashes over you, waves of pleasure washing through your body.

You look up at him, your chest heaving, your breath coming in ragged gasps. "Spencer," you whisper, your voice barely audible over the sound of your hearts hammering in your chests. He leans down, pressing a kiss to your forehead, his cock still buried deep inside you. "I love you," he whispers back, his voice rough with emotion. "I've always loved you." Silence grows between the two of you as you look at him, your eyes lightning with something more, but something you couldn’t say yet. And he understood, a small, calm and almost sad smile taking over his features.

As you both lie there, tangled together in the afterglow of your passion, he knows that there is more. More to the both of you, and that he’ll wait.

[velvetwilde]

Who has the face like smarty does?

Who has the voice like smarty does?

Who has the choice like smarty does?

nobody, nobody, nobody.

[noradegrantz]

Boarding School

Teacher! Anakin x fem! reader

౨ৎ⋆˚｡⋆

warnings: sexual content, implied smut, age gap, fingering, sex, teacher-student relationship

The reader is 18+ in the fic!!

˚₊‧꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

this fanfic is inspired by Lana Del Rey’s unreleased song “Boarding School”

please excuse any typos you might see :,)

I really hope that y’all will enjoy this <3

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

You recently found out that you were going to a new boarding school.

Your parents sent you off to a new one since in your previous school, you had problems with some girls. You didn’t really wanna to go to a new school since you have kind of settled in in your old one, but you didn’t have a choice.

It was your first day in the new boarding school. An only-girls school. The moment you stepped in some teachers showed you your new room and you had to share it with another girl. It was pink and baby blue. Your bed had some bows around it and overall it was a really pretty room. After settling in you decided to go check out the rest of the school. Since it was the first day and there were no lessons today.

You were wearing your school uniform, a white shirt, a red tie, a pair of white thigh socks, black shoes and your red pleaded skirt. You look so pretty. You start walking around the corridors of the school, checking out the new classrooms and everything. You were not watching where you were going at some point when all of a sudden you accidentally fell onto someone. You looked up to the person. It was a teacher. You embarrassedly looked up to him and started apologising.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, sir, I was not watching where I

was going..!”

You really felt embarrassed after this…

He warmly smiled and looked down to you.

“Oh, don’t even worry about it, it’s fine!”

You were so embarrassed and looked down,

then he said

“Are you a new student? It’s the first day of school today and I haven’t seen you before here.”

You looked up to him and smiled

“Yes! I am a new student! I just came this morning. My name is y/n..”

“What a nice name…”

he replied.

“Have they assigned you with a class? I think it’s on the papers that they gave you when you arrived here this morning.”

Your eyes widen, realising that you do not know in which class you actually are.

“Oh, I forgot to actually check it… silly me..”

You say and laugh awkwardly.

“Well, I’d suggest that you actually go check it out because the lessons start tomorrow and I don’t think that you would like to lose one of your classes right?”

He says and winks at you.

You instantly blush..

He’s a teacher, and he’s already making you feel so…so.. hot..? You couldn’t explain it, but you were feeling things.

You give him a smile and walk back to your room.

The next day you wake up and check out in which class you are. The papers say C1.

You get dressed, eat breakfast and fix your schoolbag. Then you head out to your lesson.

You walk in the class and sit in the front seat. After a while you hear the door of the classroom open and your new teacher walks in. It’s the same teachers from the corridors yesterday. The moment this happens is when you realise that he never actually told you his name.

Then, he sits in front of everyone in the class and says

“Good morning everyone, I’ll be your new philosophy teacher for the year.. I am Anakin Skywalker, but you can call me Mr Skywalker. I also do tutoring lessons in case everyone has problems with philosophy, so could you always can count on me.”

he says and smiles. I look up to him and smile too. He notices me and winks playfully. I feel a wave of amusement and embarrassment wash over me. He’s my teacher and feel like that about him, but he’s already so nice to me and sweet, you said to yourself.

Days pass pretty fast. You’ve started your school year in a really good mood. You love your new philosophy teacher more than any other teachers. Whenever you see him, you talk to him and you guys have really good conversations. One day decide to finally take the step and ask him if he can tutor you.

After class, you walked up to him.

“Excuse me Mr Skywalker….from what I remember on our first lesson you said to us and we can ask you for help with tutoring.. I’ve been wanting to ask you for awhile about it, but I was just too shy I guess..”

You say, and laugh anxiously.

He gave you a warm smile and replied

“Of course…plus you are the only student who actually asked for me to tutor them, so whenever you feel like it let me know.We can arrange the days and all.. oh and I have some free time right now. We could sit here, on this class, if you would like me to help you out with anything hmm?”

you smiled in excitement.

“Oh yes absolutely! I do have some free time right now… and I would love it if you could help me right now..”

You said and giggled.

You guys start studying together. He’s a really good tutor. Without realising it, hours have passed..

Anakin takes off his glasses and smiles, while looking at you.

“I don’t get why you want me to tutor you… you are so good..”

He smiled once again.

You put a strand of your hair behind your ear and reply to him.

“Honestly…sir… I don’t really feel like it.. I mean I do try my best, but it feels like I need more help.. but I really appreciate the way you speak to me and the way you help me with anything… thank you sir”

He’s sitting right next to you with his hand on the desk while looking at you.. you guys are so close.. your lips are so close to each other..

just as you guys are so close to kissing he moves a bit away..

“The time has passed fast huh..? Perhaps you better if you went back to your dorm doll.. it’s getting late..”

you smile, awkwardly and reply

“Oh yes sir, you’re absolutely right… I will head back to my dorm.. and thank you… for today.. I’d like to do that more often..”

You leave the classroom.

After an while you’re back in your dorm.

You sit by the window and check out the view outside of the building. As you check out the trees, you watch your teacher under a tree, smoking a cigarette. You keep looking at him. And that is the moment you realise that you actually feel much more things about your teacher… you start noticing how hot he is when he smoking… the way he pushes his hair back, out of his face… the way he fixes his glasses.. it’s all so..attractive…

You didn’t care that you felt like that in the first place, you just wanted him.. so bad..

Days pass once again. He keeps on tutoring you. You guys get much closer than expected.

You are talking about more personal matters which leads both of you into realising that you are actually much similar than you thought..

The following week, you two decided to have a lesson much later that day. When nobody was walking around the classrooms and you had more privacy.

After an hour into the lesson, you guys are so close again…this time you felt like you needed to do that… you couldn’t resist, and as your lips were so close…You just leaned closer and kissed him..

He did not break the kiss. Instead, he put his hands on your waist as you were sitting in the chair and kissed you more. Then he set you on the desk and kept kissing you as his hands traveled around your body.

“I’ve been wanting this for so long doll… I’ve been wanting you for so long…”

He exclaims.

You couldn’t believe it.

You wanted him in the exact same way.

You stop the kiss and look up to him once again

“I’ve been wanting that too.. I want you here..right now, take me here..!”

You exclaimed. He smirked and laughed quietly.

Adrenaline washed over you.

He lifted your skirt as you were laying on the desk. Then he moved your panties to the side.

“And those pretty pink panties that you are wearing… such a shame that they are gonna be ruined by me baby..”

he starts fingering you

You keep moaning with your hand covering your mouth. Trying to be as quiet as possible..

After a while of prepping you.. he enters you.

He moves slowly.

“Baby? I’m gonna try to be gentle, okay? Tell me if anything hurts, hmm?”

you shake your head and smile warmly.

You spent the whole night getting pounded on a desk by your philosophy teacher.

After you guys finished, Anakin kissed your cheek and smiled

“You did so good for me doll..”

Turns out that the boarding school will be fun <3

[manicpixievixen]

Motorcycle Logan moodboard

If you see me flashing by

Do not stop me, do not try

'Cause I'm a motorcycle man

I get my kicks just when I can

[melancholicstation]

Like An American 𓍼 𓇢𓆸

pairing: jack schlossberg x reader

summary: after a treacherous weekend of paddle boarding along the scenic shores of manhattan and viscose shorts that rid up far too high due to the water, you drag your husband to a Hamptons pilates class, and get far more of a workout than you bargained for.

taglist: @remotewatch @bloxholden35 @kennediva @h-l-vlovesvintage @absurdlyvintage @chemicalw0rld @fortheloveofjos @kimcrystal123 @astro-vibes-bro @tsloverr-13

warnings: (tasteful, classy, anaïs nin pilled) smut, 18+ only, implied age gap, soft petting, words of affirmation, soft aftercare, slapping, unprotected intimacy, biting, back rubs

'drive fast, i can almost taste it now,

You apathetically scroll your manicured, chanel hand-creamed ( a gift from jack himself ) hand through instagram reals and shortly abandon that effort as soon as you feel your brain being numbed by the drivel common on instagram at the current impasse. Your attention abandons that activity for a much more fulfilling escape: that of observing your husband of 2 months, jack, setting up a joint pilates appointment for the two of you with the women upfront, dressed in chic linens only truly observed in all their glory on a women summering in amagansett.

L.A., i don't even have to fake it now,

You gather yourself and sway over to the counter and offer to pay, in the effort of lifting your wallet your steel robot keychain sways slightly before resuming its residence resting by your small leather card holder. Jack looks at you, in a passive yet horrified glance and delicately waves your cards away and places a hand by the nape of your neck. Murmuring to "never worry about that sort of thing around him" in his instantly recognisable accent and cadence.

As he resumes his conversation with the girl organising your shared class, jack continually and gently circles the baby hairs at the base of your neck. Some he would perform a zig-zag motion along the base of your scalp, and other's he would gently caress the baby hairs, not failing to continue his trail to the middle of your neck.

You're like so sick, everybody said it,

It may be because of this delightful pseudo scalp-massage that you nearly don't pick up on the blatant flirting coming from the girl across from you, directed at jack. Even in an effort to catch her eyes, hers are completely fixated on that of your husband's, the gall of some people! You see her taking quick clipped glances at his 6.0 frame, dressed in hand-me-downs gifted to him by his great aunt back in the fall of 2019 (is it really classified as "hand-me-downs" if the pieces of old clothing are Loro Piana and Brunello Cucinelli?)

You're way ahead of the trend, ge-get it,

Due to Jack's parentage and familial connections you had always, to ebbing extents, had been a public figure whenever you stepped outside with Jack. Some crazed paparazzi had even papped you guys entering a jazz bar reconstructed from a prohibition speakeasy in the west village in 2019. This caused slight public fan-fare over niche twitter and instagram communities, many likening it to the glossy nineteen-nighties candids of John F. Kennedy Jr and his wife Carolyn Bessette-Kennedy. But as of 2024 being an election year, and an important decade-defining one at that, the interest around Jack had reached an almost fever pitch. Not only did you wake up to a phone-breaking amount of follower requests on instagram since jack's appearance during the democratic national convention, but your once small, curated following on TikTok had blossomed from a petite fig tree, to a unruly and domineering monstera. Despite this you attempted to take this change in your stride and continued business as usual.

Elvis is the best, hell yes,

As the girl confirms your appointment she asks you to wait a few moments in the lounge to allow the instructors time to adequately prepare the room. You both saunter over to a particularly comfortable-looking linen settee in the back of the room, a hand securely placed along your back by jack.

"You know I can't believe you made me sign up for this, i'll be as graceful as a hippo on a ballet barré and you know so!" Jack chuckles out sarcastically, in such a tone that gives away his true ill-advised confidence at mastering the art of pilates. An activity that since your water paddle-boarding escapes around manhattan's greatest shores, you had been dying to have him try his hand at it at least once.

"You shouldn't knock it until you try it, jack. I promise you'll adore it--or you won't and you'll completely resent it until the day you die. It's just a game of chance really." This instigates you into preparing jack for what he's about to walk into, you start with showing him so low-impact pilates videos you'd saved to your camera roll. He replies with boastful comments sliced in with moments of disbelief at how people could contort their own bodies into such positions.

A pilates instructor by the name of Anya, politely tells us that the room is ready and that instructor Zoe is ready to begin the session whenever they are.

The room, being that the property was in the east Hamptons, had gorgeous, sprawling views of the main beach shore line. The studio was surround by white wooden shiplap, adorned with antique yet charming looking prints of deers and lambs frolicking in a garden so beautiful it had to be painted from the depths of an artist's imagination. Before the couple could even take in the beautiful studio, a very upbeat Zoe bounded into the room not unlike to the excitement of a labrador puppy, and before either person knew it the class had commenced.

The duration of the session plays out like a comedy show that not even the great minds of a 2010s snl dream-team cast could think up. Not only did jack multiple times fall of the reformer, but his grunts were reminiscent of a much more intimate activity not commonly done in the presence of a stranger.

The class ended with you feeling refreshed, and jack feeling mildly humiliated--okay considerably humiliated at his lack of an ability to pick up pilates form on command.

As soon as Zoe departed through the double doors to leave you guys to re-coop, you throw yourself onto Jack's reformer and devolve into a fit of laughter. "Yeah--Yeah laugh it up while your husband is severely embarrassed and wounded" Jack says in a tone that betrays the bitter exterior he's putting up. "Oh please Jack the only thing wounded is your ego, your just jealous I was great at paddle-boarding"

"Depends on how you define great" Jack comments laughing, but quickly dies down once you pull his the hair at the base of his neck to halt his teasing of your mediocre, at best, paddle boarding.

You make me crazy, you make me wild,

As a result this causes him to retaliate my gracefully lifting your alo yoga clad body into his arms and onto his lap. From this point of view you observed the way the tank clung to his form, and the scent of his musk inflamed your desires in an almost animalistic, feral fashion. Both of your hips begin to languidly meet his, as his mouth meets yours. Saliva covers the both of your chins, which in any other situation would disturb you both greatly, but in a moment like this it's supremely erotic. Clothing meeting clothing, friction creating more, and more friction. Your knees start to dig into the plush mat of the reformer as jack settles you gently on the seat of the reformer and undresses the lower half of his and carefully slides your pointelle underwear to one side. In any other situation you, as a couple, would be horrified at your shared lack of social decorum: I mean, seriously, you guys are in a pilates studio for christ sake! But at this interim you cannot find it in yourself to quite care, and you've got a sneaking suspicion that neither does Jack.

Just like a baby, spin me 'round like a child,

As Jack leans over to line himself, you crane your tennis necklace clad neck to delicately kiss his cheek. To which he, in return, blushes (and giggles) like a schoolgirl. As he plunges, the shared couple lets out a breath of relief. Breaths of relief that mirror ships docking into a much-loved harbour, marking a safe return. And that's what they were to each other a safe place to return. Apart from small words of encouragement that you were "doing so well for him" and that he gets amazed by how "well you take him every time" Jack eventually stops talking. On your part he may have continued to talk but by then your mind had soon become the consistency of day-old porridge. With your body only seemingly responding to the stimulus brought on by Jack. The pounding, and the sense of completeness and fullness infuriates your head and decimates any other thoughts not relating to the man in front of you.

Be young, be dope, be proud,

Sometimes, you felt perverse when you slept with Jack in this manner, rough and unrelenting, for you imagined that to know yearning for one person as much as you had, that something had to be wrong with you. Something that had to have been corrupted to form such a need for one person's existence. That was only given brief air-time in your mind as you were brought back by the feeling of callous hands grasping your face with the gentleness of a bear that doesn't know the power of it's strength yet---"Are you still with my me my girl?" Jack asks, and slightly slaps the flesh of the side of your behind.

"Yes-yes-Oh God yes" you slur through breathless gasps, like a fish rising to the surface, you feel the unmistakable roll of thunderous pressure and hear Jack encouraging you to "let it all out sweetheart" while caressing your back. And eventually you convulse in his capable, and protective arms. Due to this you quietly lay your head on his chest cocooning yourself in his musk, and watch you favourite expression befall his face. As you feel encompassed by the most delightful warmness, milking him for all he had. In the interim period, waiting for Jack to come down from his high you play with the littered brown hair covering his public bone curling the corse hair. You observe the space where you both meet, and liken it to an image of the sand meeting the ocean. As a result, you don't notice Jack gazing down at you like you're the only other breathing, sentient being on the planet. Your eyes meet and smile bashfully at each other. To break the sexual tension Jack jokes "This has got to cross at least one box of that weird places to have sex bingo we bought, I-I mean surely it has to right?"

"One can dream" you giggle and receive a drawn out kiss from jack as he slides back out.

Jack, being the gentleman that he was raised to be, doesn't let you do anything after such an act, so he cleans you first, then himself in the ensuite attached for those who indented to shower after a lesson, and dresses you back up.

Like an American Ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh-oh,

As you both walk out, thanking Zoe for her time who was now conversing with the woman at the counter, you finally make eye-contact with the girl flirting with jack earlier. You sense that she may have connected the dots that it wasn't just the pilates class that got you two so worked up after seeing your messily put on clothing, and birds nests of what once was a slick-back bun combined with the sweat pooling around jack's collarbones.

Or maybe, just maybe the walls of the east hampton pilates studio are not as soundproofed as they had brazenly assumed.

Like an American Ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh-oh.'

the end.

[ultravionna]

best friend’s brother

pairings: bfb!dallas winston x fem!reader

summary: dallas is your best friend’s brother

warnings: nsfw, teeny tiny bit of smut

disclaimer: yes, i am aware that that is a pic of tex mccormick above. it fit the theme leave me alone-

w/c: 3,151

the night was calm, with the soft hum of the city outside filtering through the slightly cracked window.

you and dana were lounging on the couch, a pile of blankets thrown haphazardly over the both of you as you scrolled through a list of movies. laughter bubbled between you two, a mix of inside jokes and teasing remarks. dana tossed a piece of popcorn into her mouth, missing entirely and sending it rolling down her shirt. you both burst out laughing.

"you're the worst at this," you chuckled, nudging her side.

"hey, i'm improving! that one almost made it." dana grinned, leaning back into the cushions. "so, which movie? horror or rom-com?"

before you could answer, the front door creaked open. you both turned your heads just in time to see dallas winston slink inside, his usual cocky swagger evident in every step. he was late-again-but he didn't seem to care, a slight smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

"dal'!" dana scolded, sitting up straight. "that's the fifth time this week! mom and dad are going to kill you if they find out."

dallas shrugged, unbothered, and headed straight for the kitchen. "they'll get over it, man." he drawled, his voice low and thick with that unmistakable new york accent. he reached into the fridge, pulling out a can of beer. popping it open with a practiced flick of his thumb, he sauntered over to the couch and, without a word, hopped over the back to land between you and dana.

"watch it, dumbass!" dana protested, shoving at his shoulder. "we're trying to have a movie night."

"yeah?" dallas grinned, taking a swig from his can.

"what're we watching? something with sparkly vampires, i bet."

you rolled your eyes, trying to ignore the way your heart skipped a beat at his teasing tone. "please, we've got better taste than that."

"could've fooled me, dollface," he quipped, nudging you with his elbow. the way he said it, the nickname laced with a double meaning, made you bite the inside of your cheek to keep from smiling.

you turned your attention back to the movie list, scrolling aimlessly, but it was hard to focus with dallas so close. his presence was electrifying, the warmth radiating from him impossible to ignore. the smell of his cologne, something musky and dark, filled your senses, making your thoughts swirl.

dana huffed, grabbing the empty popcorn bowl. "i'm gonna get more blankets from the shed. you two try not to kill each other while l'm gone."

"wouldn't dream of it, sis," dallas replied, his eyes never leaving you.

as dana disappeared through the back door, the air in the room thickened. the silence between you and dallas was heavy, charged with an unspoken tension that neither of you seemed willing to address. you grabbed the popcorn bowl, intending to refill it in the kitchen, but as soon as you stood up, dallas was right behind you.

you didn't hear him move. one moment he was lounging on the couch, the next his arms were wrapping around your waist from behind, pulling you flush against his chest. the bowl slipped from your fingers, clattering onto the countertop as you froze, your breath catching in your throat.

"miss me?" he murmured, his voice a low rumble in your ear.

you scoffed, trying to play it cool despite the rapid thudding of your heart. "not a chance."

dallas only smirked, his grip tightening slightly as he turned you around to face him. his hands settled on your hips, the heat of his touch searing through the thin fabric of your pajama shorts. you could feel his gaze burning into you, his eyes dark and intense.

"liar," he whispered, leaning in closer. his breath ghosted over your lips, sending a shiver down your spine.

"your sister's gonna be back any minute," you warned, though your voice lacked conviction. you couldn't tear your eyes away from his, the intensity in them making it hard to think straight.

"then we'd better make this quick," he murmured, picking up a piece of popcorn from the bowl with one hand. he brought it to your lips, his fingers brushing against them as he held it there.

instinctively, you bit down on the popcorn, holding it between your teeth.

dallas's smirk deepened as he leaned in, his hand cupping your chin, tilting your head slightly upward.

his other hand stayed firmly on your hip, his thumb rubbing small circles into your skin. slowly, he took the popcorn from your lips with his mouth, his lips grazing yours as he did. the brief contact sent a jolt of electricity through you, your body reacting before your mind could catch up.

before you could fully register what was happening, dallas closed the distance, capturing your lips in a slow, deliberate kiss. his hand on your hip pulled you closer, your bodies pressed together as his lips moved against yours. the kiss was intoxicating, the taste of salt and butter lingering on your tongue as his thumb continued its lazy circles on your skin, each movement sending sparks of heat through your body.

for a moment, you were completely lost in him, the world around you fading away. but then, the sound of the back door opening snapped you back to reality. you pushed dallas away, your heart racing as you tried to catch your breath.

dallas backed off, his smirk never faltering as he leaned casually against the opposite side of the counter. he took a sip from his beer, his eyes glinting with mischief as he watched you, clearly enjoying the effect he had on you.

dana walked back in, her arms full of blankets. she glanced at the two of you, oblivious to what had just transpired. "did i miss anything?"

"just the usual," dallas said, his tone light and carefree.

dana rolled her eyes, clearly not buying it, but she didn't press the issue. you, on the other hand, were left reeling, your thoughts spinning in a million directions as you tried to process what had just happened. dallas caught your eye from across the kitchen, his smirk widening as if to say, this is far from over.

-

the house was dark and quiet, the only light coming from the dim glow of the kitchen. you had left the living room after dana had fallen asleep during the second movie, her soft snores filling the silence. it was late—later than you should’ve been up—but sleep was the last thing on your mind.

you stood by the kitchen counter, sipping from a bottle of water as you tried to calm the restless energy coursing through you. it wasn’t just the events of the evening that had you wired; it was the persistent thoughts of dallas and the lingering heat of his touch from earlier.

the sound of soft footsteps behind you made you tense, and you turned to see dallas leaning against the doorway, his familiar smirk firmly in place.

“can’t sleep?” he asked, his voice low and teasing.

you shrugged, trying to play it off. “yeah. something like that.”

dallas stepped into the kitchen, his eyes never leaving you as he sauntered over. “y’know, my room’s just down the hall if you need some…assistance with that.”

you rolled your eyes, the suggestion clear in his tone. “of course it is,” you muttered, trying to hide the way your pulse quickened.

he chuckled, clearly amused by your reaction. “what? i’m just offering to help. it’s what a good host does, after all.”

“pretty sure your version of ‘help’ is different from everyone else’s,” you shot back, taking another sip of water.

“maybe,” he conceded, moving closer until he was standing right in front of you. “but it’s a lot more fun, don’t you think?”

you met his gaze, trying to ignore the way his presence made your skin tingle. he was infuriating, with that cocky grin and those intense eyes that seemed to see right through you. and yet, there was a part of you that couldn’t help but be drawn to him, despite how much you wanted to resist.

dallas leaned in, his voice dropping to a whisper. “so, what’s really keeping you up, sweetheart?”

you hesitated for a moment before giving him the simplest answer. “just couldn’t sleep.”

his smirk widened, as if he knew there was more to it than that, but he didn’t press. instead, he took the bottle from your hand, his fingers brushing against yours as he raised it to his lips, taking a slow sip.

“you should try and get some rest,” he said after a moment, his tone deceptively casual. “can’t have you looking tired tomorrow.”

“why’s that?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

“because i plan on keeping you busy,” he replied with a grin that was all mischief. “and i don’t want you using ‘tired’ as an excuse to back out.”

you rolled your eyes again, though the corners of your lips tugged up in a small smile. “you’re unbelievable.”

“and yet, you’re still here,” he countered smoothly, handing the bottle back to you. “so, what does that say about you?”

you didn’t answer, instead taking the bottle and turning away from him. but dallas wasn’t done with you yet. he stepped closer, his body heat brushing against your back as he leaned down to murmur in your ear.

“think about my offer, sweetheart,” he said, his voice dripping with suggestion. “my door’s always open.”

before you could respond, he straightened up and walked out of the kitchen, leaving you standing there with your thoughts in a whirl. the encounter had been brief, but it had left you feeling more awake than ever, your mind racing with the implications of his words.

you knew one thing for sure: with dallas winston around, sleep was going to be the least of your worries.

-

the house was shrouded in silence, dana's soft breathing the only sound in the living room as she slept soundly on the couch. you, however, were wide awake, staring at the ceiling as your mind replayed the conversation with dallas in the kitchen. his offer hung in the air like a dare, challenging you in a way you couldn't quite shake off.

sleep was impossible. you'd tried everything— closing your eyes, counting sheep, focusing on the rhythm of dana's breathing-but nothing worked.

your thoughts kept drifting back to dallas, his smug grin, and those words that had been laced with a double meaning.

before you knew it, you were sitting up, heart pounding as you glanced toward the hallway. you knew what you were about to do was reckless, maybe even stupid, but the pull was too strong to resist.

careful not to wake dana, you slipped off the couch and tiptoed toward the hallway, your pulse quickening with every step. the house seemed even quieter now, the darkness more oppressive as you approached dallas's door.

you hesitated for a brief moment, hand hovering over the doorknob. but the memory of his teasing voice, the promise in his eyes, pushed you forward.

with a deep breath, you turned the knob and quietly slipped inside, closing the door behind you.

the room was dimly lit by the glow of a small lamp on the bedside table, casting long shadows across the walls. dallas was lying on his bed, one arm behind his head as he stared at the ceiling, seemingly lost in thought. but the moment he heard the door close, his eyes flicked to you, and that familiar smirk curled his lips.

"well, well," he drawled, his voice low and amused.

"look who decided to take me up on my offer.”

you swallowed, feeling a mix of anticipation and nerves as you stepped further into the room. 

"i couldn't sleep," you said, echoing your earlier excuse.

dallas pushed himself up on his elbows, his gaze never leaving you. "yeah? and you think i'm gonna help with that?"

his tone was teasing, but there was an edge to it, something that made your heart race even faster.

"maybe," you replied, trying to sound confident, though your voice wavered just a little.

he chuckled, the sound deep and rumbling in the quiet room. "c'mere, sweetheart."

you moved closer, your feet almost on autopilot as you approached the bed. dallas watched you with a look that was both challenging and inviting, his eyes dark and intense in the low light. when you reached the edge of the bed, he sat up fully, his legs dangling off the side as he reached out to take your hand.

"you sure about this?" he asked, though there was a knowing look in his eyes, as if he already knew your

answer.

you hesitated for the briefest of moments before nodding. "yeah. i'm sure."

with that, dallas pulled you toward him, his hands sliding to your waist as he guided you onto the bed.

you could feel the heat of his body through your clothes, the way his fingers pressed into your skin, holding you close but not too tight. it was as if he was giving you the option to back out, even though you both knew you wouldn't.

he leaned in, his breath warm against your neck as he whispered, "you're playing with fire, dollface."

"maybe i like the heat," you shot back, surprised at your own boldness.

dallas's grin widened, his lips brushing against your skin as he spoke. "careful what you wish for."

before you could respond, he tilted your chin up with a finger, his eyes locking onto yours. the tension in the room was palpable, thick enough to cut with a knife, but neither of you seemed in a hurry to break it. instead, you both lingered in that moment, the air between you charged with anticipation.

finally, dallas closed the distance, his lips capturing yours in a slow, deliberate kiss. it wasn't rushed or frantic but rather a slow burn, building up in intensity as he deepened the kiss, his hands roaming over your back. you could feel the heat of his skin, the strength in his grip, and it sent a thrill through you that you hadn't anticipated.

his touch was confident, almost possessive, as he guided you further onto the bed, his body pressing against yours. it wasn't just the kiss that had your heart racing; it was the way he held you, as if he'd been waiting for this moment just as much as you had.

dallas broke the kiss, his lips trailing down your neck as his hands found their way under your shirt, his touch firm yet gentle. you let out a soft sigh, your fingers tangling in his hair as he explored your skin, every touch igniting something deep within you.

he pulled back slightly, his gaze meeting yours again, and there was something almost predatory in his eyes—a look that sent a shiver down your spine.

"you sure?" he murmured, his voice low and rough.

you didn't hesitate this time. "i can handle you."

his smirk returned, but there was a hint of something darker behind it. "we'll see about that."

with that, he kissed you again, this time more urgently, as if he couldn't get enough. the heat between you two intensified, the room filling with the sound of your breaths and the rustle of sheets as you lost yourselves in the moment.

you weren't sure how long it lasted, but when dallas finally pulled back, you were both breathless, your heart pounding in your chest. he looked at you with a mix of want and something else you couldn't quite place before his head dipped down to plant kisses on your neck.

traveling down to your collarbone and then your chest, exposed by your tank top. he slowly moved down your body, his mouth trailing kisses down your smooth skin until he was mere inches away from where you needed him most.

his hands gripped your thighs gently, holding your legs apart so he could have a good view of you in your current state, a low and hungry sound escaped his lips as he looked at you before finally lowering his head down and letting his mouth touch the skin of your inner thighs. 

hands sliding up the sides of your thighs, his fingers grabbing at the fuzzy fabric of your pajama shorts, tugging at them as they slid down your hips and pulling them down your legs.  

looking back up at you, his fingers came up to brush against the dampness of your underwear. 

you shivered, a hand coming to his shoulder to halt his movements. 

“wait, wait…” you whispered, looking towards the door and then back down at him. “i think i heard something.” 

“what?” he asked, his voice still thick with desire. "you think dana woke up?" 

you nodded, though part of you didn't want to leave.

but you and dallas both knew all too well-you couldn't stay here, not without risking getting caught. with a reluctant sigh, you slipped off the bed, your legs feeling shaky as you stood up to place your shorts back on.

as you made your way to the door, dallas called out softly, "my offer still stands, y'know."

you glanced back at him, seeing that cocky grin on his face once again. "i'll keep that in mind," you replied, before slipping out of his room and back into the hallway.

the house was still quiet, and as you crept back to the living room, you couldn't help but smile to yourself. it was a reckless decision, sneaking into dallas's room like that, but you didn't regret it. if anything, it had only made you want more.

a string of silence went on for a moment or two as you laid back down against the pillowy cushions of the couch. letting out a small sigh, you snuggled into the couch pillow and slowly shut your eyes- until you heard shuffling on the other end of the couch.

“you’re nasty.” 

“what?” you murmured, lifting your head to look over at dana who laid at the other end. 

“i said you’re nasty.” she repeated, keeping her eyes closed as she spoke a bit over a whisper.

“what are you talking about?” you asked, trying to keep your voice steady, even though your heart was starting to race.

dana let out a soft, tired laugh, her lips curling into a smirk. “you think i didn’t hear you tiptoeing down the hall? don’t worry, i’m not gonna snitch.”

your breath caught in your throat, but before you could say anything, she shifted slightly and added, “just try not to make too much noise next time, okay?” 

perks of sneaking around with your best friend’s brother—your best friend’s intuition is as sharp as her brother’s charm.

[hapinesbuterfiy]

. ୨🪩୧ ₊˚ 🍒 ʚ ♡ ˚ 🎀 +

lets talk about rafe x fangirl!reader...

you love being a fangirl and all of the late release nights, hundreds of dollars spent in merch and concert tickets, and the constant hours of waiting in ticketmaster queues that came with it. having an insanely rich and obsessive boyfriend who would spend millions to make you happy had it's perks!

it took rafe a while to get used to your antics, never did he ever think he would be waking up at 2am to queue for a concert, but who else would be accompanying his girl? certainly not anyone else, he wouldn't have it. at first, he attempted to persuade you to buy actual seats instead of pit tickets with the "proactive person" approach. "are you fuckin' crazy? you're meanin' to tell me that you would rather sleep on the filthy fuckin' streets outside the venue waiting for hours when i could just buy you an entire box of seats? you're fuckin' insane." he stomps around your bedroom while standing above you, unable to fathom the lengths that you're willing to go to for a good view at a show. "rafe it's not the same you just don't get it! i need to be at the barricade there is literally no point in going if lana del rey can't watch me sob in front of her while singing pretty when you cry." he rolls his eyes at your remark, shaking his head in disbelief while sucking in his bottom lip. "yea—yea fuckin' barricade my ass, you shithead. lucky i wouldn't fuckin' make you go alone." you perk up, kissing his cheek in excitement. "thank you!" you've got him wrapped around your pretty little finger.

you're passionate, to say the least! why would you spent countless nights sobbing to grainy eras tour live streams after taylor swift plays your favorite songs without you there alone when you could be doing it with rafe by your side? he thinks you're insane for crying over a song, giving you his best fake sympathy act each time it happens, which is practically every time she has a concert because her entire discography is yours. you try your best to make out words through your sniffles and sobs, "i hate taylor swift so much. why would she bring gracie abrams out to play i miss you i'm sorry without me there?" you continue to choke on your sobs and manage to pull yourself even close into his chest. "she's so mean i hate her rafe." he tries his best to console you but can't help but laugh at your disheveled state and the snot coming out of your nose over a song, he is rafe, after all. "baby— i don't know what to tell you. maybe she'll like play it again when you see her, i don't fuckin' know." he wipes your face with his thumbs, as he continues to laugh at you reaching out for his phone to take a video of you so he can make fun of you later for it.

you practically control the aux cord in his jeep, as his girlfriend it's basically your job to make sure he has good music taste! plus the same future songs that he plays over and over again are starting to become unbearable. "so this is thank u, next, it's literally ariana's best single like i swear i would not be the same person without this song it's so me core." he parts his lips in frustration, rolling his eyes and shaking his head. "the fuck do you mean that's so me core? are you tryin' to say somethin' here?" he tries to pretend that he isn't enjoying it but you can hear him mumble "thank u, next m' im so fuckin' grateful for my ex." your eyes light up as you land a playful slap to his shoulder "see i told you it was a good song, you're too stubborn!" he completely disregards you, turning the volume up even higher so that you stop chirping in his ear.

you're a handful and a tad bit loud, but rafe secretly enjoys putting with your shit. you're his princess and if that meant he had to book an entire trip to italy just so you could go see harry styles for the last show on love on tour just to make you happy, he would be doing so!