laneymeadows

[laneymeadows]

aidenoconnorx‌:

that makes one of us…

She wasn’t pulling any blows, was she? Did she really have that much distaste from him? Or was it more than that now. After six years, he didn’t know how much it could have festered…how much she could grow to hate their circumstances. To hate him. He could feel his chest ache, a dull pang shooting through with each heave, “Fuck, Laney, there’s a million and one things I want, but the main thing? I want to see you, I want to hash whatever this is out,” Because he honestly didn’t understand. Not wanting the responsibility? Ok, fine. It wasn’t as if he asked for it either. But just– disappearing in the middle of the night… he had to clench his jaw, already feeling heat creeping up his neck before letting out a sigh. “And honestly? As much as I wanna know why, I know it doesn’t matter. All that matters is what comes next…”

the voice that beckoned her through the speaker held so much pain... the sadness overcoming her as the flashbacks to their childhood played on a perfect loop through her mind. eidetic memory. a blessing or a curse? it was yet to be distinguished in her case, that was. still -- push. run. the familiar flight of fight kicking in as she’d glanced at the mirror that sat in front of her, the oceanic hues that mirrored his staring back at her as a shaken breath fell from her lips, a small ignition of fire settling in at his words. “you want to know why?” the words came out with disgust, dripping with sarcasm with each syllable that left her tongue, as the chuckle bellowed from her chest, shaking her head. “you told me to go. or do you not remember? get a job, get a hotel room? i just chose to take that golden fucking opportunity to never come back. jesus fucking christ, aiden. that place was a shit show and you just went around, pretending to play dad while i played mom, thinking everything was okay but we fucking weren’t. none of us. what comes next, is i make my fucking money and i keep doing what i do best. god, i knew i should’ve never left vegas.” 

[laneymeadows]

aidenoconnorx‌:

cont from here

laney: you’ve got 10 minutes

Seeing her message, Aiden hit the dial button and took a breath, trying to ease the beat of his heart. Six years. Six fucking years since he’d heard her voice. He wondered if it was different. Raspy, perhaps from smoking? Nasally? Maybe she was sick? He didn’t know what to expect or if she would even actually pick up…but he had to try right? He paced on the balcony of Cordelia’s penthouse, no doubt looking as anxious he felt, but he stilled his voice as he heard the click and background sound on the other end, “Laney?” There were a multitude of things he wanted to say. Half of them harsh, angry. The other borderline pathetic. But the biggest one spilled from his lips like word vomit. 

“Fuck, I’ve missed you,” @laneymeadows​

the same tedious music from plan b echoed in the background as oceanic hues stare down as the still unnamed contact’s number scrolls across her screen, and her finger is just hovering over the decline, begging to be pressed and it’s almost as if she were seventeen again, hesitant to hear the familiarized voice that beckons. she wants to click it closed, write see you when i see you.. but this is aiden, this was family, the same tugging at the heart when she’d seen ryleigh, that she’d thought died long ago . god, it really was her achilles fucking heel, wasn’t it? the longing to forget, though she knows she never will, the life she’s left behind is continuously following her about, knocking at her cold heart’s door, so instead her finger is turning to the green, a heavied sigh coming from her lips as she brought it to her ear, lashes fluttering shut the moment his voice rang strong, the same country draw, though now more matured, is still the same. the tone, the inflection, the god damned pain.

“that makes one of us... like i said, you’ve got 10 minutes. what do you want, aid?”

[laneymeadows]

text to ✉ laney

aiden: this is alot

aiden: can i call you?

aiden: please?

laney: you’ve got 10 minutes

[laneymeadows]

text to ✉ laney

aiden: u mean, can u pretend

aiden: yes

aiden: everyone kept nagging

aiden: and i wanted to talk to u

laney: why do you want to see me?

laney: i left for a reason

laney: “everyone” i see you have really still under your thumb

laney: and i’m assuming the little gf she was talking about

[laneymeadows]

text to ✉ laney

aiden: nice try

aiden: idk what that says

aiden: but we're gonna run into each other

aiden: wouldn't u rather it be planned?

laney: you never were one for furthering horizons

laney: aiden it’s been six years

laney: can’t we keep pretending each other don’t exist?

laney: wait you’re texts are blue

laney: did you get a fucking iphone???

[laneymeadows]

text to ✉ laney

AIDEN: Hey. I pulled this number from Ryleigh's phone, so don't be pissed at her

AIDEN: But we need to talk, Rapunzel. Preferably sooner than later.

laney: por que? no habla ingles, lo siento! numero equivocado

[laneymeadows]

[laneymeadows]

abelthompson‌:

the corner of his mouth twitched with delight at her commands, abel nodding to the man right after. “you heard her. the entire thing.” abel welcomed the power move on her part, always interested in how dylan’s girls’ dealings with shady patrons. the rules were simple and clear. more money, more privileges. he wondered if this pretty blonde with an accent that gave her away to not being from around here, knew the status abel held in the club. he hadn’t seen her in the building long, but if he knew dylan the way he thought, she would have set her straight from the beginning. no dancer went rogue here and if they did? they had to answer. 

he had to respect her, a shrug of his shoulders offering a little but if peace. “i’ll get his name from the bartender and slap him on a short ban list. for a week or two, see if he’s learned his lesson. i’d ask if you’re okay but from the look of it, i think you’ve got this handled.” and then, it donned on him that no, she hadn’t known who abel was and that was rare. abel needed to take advantage of that, didn’t he? opportunities like this only came his way every so often. “angel,” he repeated, eyes shamelessly raking over her body while taking the tiniest step back for a better view. “living up to your name, i see. you’re just missing your wings.”

it isn’t long before his eyes are widening as lists of her bottle of choice, probably because he’d known the price tag without even letting his eyes rake over the menu the same way this mystery man’s eyes are taking in her body. her gaze doesn’t waver from his eyes on her, only encouraging her as a smirk slicks across her lips, eyebrows raising in curiosity. “don’t bother, that two-hundred and fifty dollar price tag is gonna hurt em’ plenty; he’s lucky i didn’t have him buy queen’s. besides that’s takin’ away business from the other girls, hurtin’ the revenue stream for dylan and i’m here to make money and get the fuck out. like you said, i had it handled, if i can’t, i’ll ask cas -- either way, i’m used to assholes. part of the business, ain’t it?” 

a small chuckle comes between full lips, arms crossing over her busy chest as lashes flutter innocently. “oh honey, my wings burned off my back a long time ago, a fallen angel is still one nonetheless, although don’t tell the customers that, the whole cowgirl yee-haw really gets dicks hard, ya know?” she asks, trying her best to speak over the music of the next set about to begin, thumbs settling through the belt loops of the low rise denim shorts, a boot kicking out from where she stands, perking a bow as she shakes her head. “you know, i heard i’m a lot better lookin’ up close and personal.” 

[laneymeadows]

sylvialopez‌:

it had just been her and the new blonde girl in the dressing room. kind of a slow night, but still making due with plucking the cash from the hands of seedy and needy men. she had made a quick thousand in the last two hours and it was reasonable. all the bitches that thought men actually dropped racks on a dance was stupid, you really had to work for this shit. rumors had been whispered that the new girl called angel, the one in the dressing room with her, had took home ten grand and good for her, honest. sylvia had been lucky here and there, but made that kind of money selling videos of herself riding a vibrator on her onlyfans account. sugar daddies could be an option but that required work and sometimes, syl had enough of that. at her vanity, sylvia had a couple skinny lines of blow ready to indulge in before going back out on the floor. couldn’t be too rude though, turning in her seat and calling over to the blonde,“you want some?” 

@laneymeadows​

powder presses into her skin, the slick shine of oil and a hard night’s work whisked away with the simple sweep of a brush as eyes linger toward her busy, adjusting until they’d sat high on her chest. fingers sweeping through tangled strands of blonde locks. the innocent fuck me look was what they’d craved, beckoning with widened blue hues to draw them in, a silent siren’s call. a broken doll who just wanted to be fixed, and fuck was she good at broken, pieced back together and slammed until she’d shattered once more. sure, dayton wasn’t as much of a money hole as vegas had been but shit, at least the guys were a little bit better than the high rollers on the strip. this was less stress. gone were the times of overdoses and seizured bodies, trying to pretend to give a fuck enough to help clean up the mess they’d made. 

“huh?” the blonde murmurs, glancing over her shoulder to the voice that called out. sylvia lopez. of course she’d known her, anyone in plan b knew bianca, seemingly the one who’d put the b in plan b itself. also, the b in bitch, but still, at least she wasn’t whining like half the bitches that seemed to ride the pole, letting themselves fall into a pit of self-pity and drugs. long legs stand from her place at her vanity, scanning over the tiny white lines of white powder that lay out in front of her. one or two wouldn’t hurt, would it? she asked herself, a small smile coming to her lips as brows raise in consideration before finally, without much determination at fucking all, delaney simply shrugs. “don’t mind if i do,” she murmurs, taking a one from her back pocket, rolling it into a tight hold, before letting a line surround her sinuses. “thanks, i don’t think we’ve met.. officially, that is. name’s angel  -- well, at least while i’m here.” the petite blonde extends her hand as the thick country drawl dials down, trying her best to disguise it with a somewhat seamless valley girl intonation. 

[laneymeadows]

oricnking‌:

nah, this one likely could’ve taken care of things on her own, but king isn’t above offering help where it’s needed. usually it’s not without asking for something in return, but she’s got dylan’s number. she’ll find a way to earn her commission later. “nah, didn’t seem like you did, but asshole should’ve known better. besides, there’s nothing more satisfying than breaking a douche’s hand,” she shrugs, smirking adorning her mouth while her vivid hues remain on the new dancer. words roll forward in that sweet voice that no doubt turns heads without fail and king barks out a sharp laugh. “hardly. you kidding? dyl would have an aneurysm. i just like to check in from time to time. you know, do my duty to keep dayton safe,” she answers, a mocking tone dripping from every word spoken. “king. drop the officer, though. we’re not that official around here.” king tucks her badge under her shirt. thank fuck it’s not one of those bulkier ones. cocking her head, king motions for the girl to keep heading in the direction she’d been trying to make for before being so rudely interrupted. “suppose not working in a place like this. no judgement though. i couldn’t do what you girls do, so more power to you.” truly, the people dylan hires are usually pretty messy, but kudos to them for having the guts to do what other people, the ones who judge them, would never do. 

delaney’s tongue runs against the roof of her mouth, lips slightly agape as her arms cross over her chest and the smirk that seemed to stamp itself in a permanent residence across her features, hardly wavering as the badge is slipped back into her pocket, thumbs relaxing in the belt loops that sit low on her hips, pulling the denim slightly futher down. well, fuck. if she was gonna be saved by a cop, she’d certainly hope it’d be by one that had this much fucking charisma, but she can’t help but laugh at keep dayton safe. “right, safe, if that’s what ya’ll like to call it around here. but i ain’t lookin’ for safe, kind of the reason i moved here. grimy, filth is kinda my calling card. best ways to stay hidden is in plain sight of a town where anythin’ goes,” she murmurs, her tongue clicking as it falls back into place. “ -- angel,” the blonde nods in return, with a tick of her her chin. though, as the words continue to pass through her lips, she can’t help but raise a brow, and this time, it was her town for a laugh, shaking her head as she steps to the side for a server who just passes her, letting her eyes pass from the gorgeous brunette that stands in front of her to the hot blonde’s ass who’s just passing, before turning her gaze back to the officer. “not that important, i’d rather keep talkin’ to the hot cop. so tell me, king, is keeping an eye on things the only reason you make your way around here? or is the girls that keep you comin’ on back, too?” 

[laneymeadows]

[laneymeadows]

Sharp Objects (2018—) Directed by Jean-Marc Vallée

[laneymeadows]

madisonxwarner‌:

If there was one thing in this world Madison was an absolute pro at it was bitter pettiness. There weren’t many people who were a match for her, and even less willing to go as far she would. What could she say? She had learned from the best. Now, the best was going to see just how much his little girl took after him. Madison smirked at the thought. God, there was no feeling that came close to the satisfaction of being a complete cunt. 

Madison sat right in front of the stage at Plan B. A drink in her hand as her eyes were glued to the blonde who had been dancing. She always admired strippers. Madison knew firsthand being pretty wasn’t as easy as it seemed, not to mention everything else that came with the profession. They had to know how to move just right, the strength it possessed to fling yourself around on that pole, and letting gross old men watch it all? Modern day heros. Madison must have thrown over a thousand at the girl already. She’s the one, Madison thought. 

After the girl’s set was over Madison approached a guy standing by one of the private booths. “I want the blonde that just got off stage.” She paid for the dance and waited where he told her to. 

@laneymeadows​

blue hues gaze up as her attention shifts from the bills that she shifts through, counting up the money before placing it down into the small fanny pack that holds the rest of the week’s cash flow. if you’d ask her, she’d never admit it but dayton seemed like it could be... home. was the revenue stream even close to the one that vegas had? oh absolutely fucking not, but dayton had something that vegas couldn’t even dream of. dayton held the meadows. ryleigh, aiden, sure it all felt like a bad fucking dream, but the moment her eyes laid upon ryleigh she felt her heart flutter for the first time in what seemed like ions. no, no, turn it off. don’t feel. suppress and repress, suppress and repress. 

heels clatter against the floors of plan b, making their way straight toward the gorgeous brunette who’d thrown the mounds of cash in her direction, earning her hard to gain respect and now? now she’d wanted more, and well -- she was nothing if not grateful. “you’re quiet the big spender, ya know? for all that cash, ya coulda just requested me privately to begin with, sweetheart, though i’m not much of a complainer when it comes to money,” she murmurs, taking a seat as large eyes glance up through long lashes.

“so what can i do ya for? a dance? or somethin’ a lil’ more... special, after all, you did just make my week.”

[laneymeadows]

The Devil Wears Prada (2006) dir. David Frankel

[laneymeadows]

Fin août, début septembre (Olivier Assayas, 1998)

[laneymeadows]

abelthompson‌:

abel had seen the new girl’s set, admiring her exquisite presence on stage. legs long and slender, glittering skin amongst the harsh stage lights. the outfit she had chose was just right, her taut little body on display for the merry band of horny men trying to adore her. he wanted to introduce himself, let her know that he was impressed so before she was done, abel headed to the wings. he hadn’t expected someone to grab her: a complete and utter disgrace to plan b’s rules. you never grabbed a bitch even if you put the most money on her, even if you were planning for a taste. that had to be earned and there were repercussions for your actions. 

he stepped in front of the guy after the blonde had stood her ground, the customer’s figurative tail between his legs. “you heard her, hands off or i’ll personally get you motherfuckin’ black listed.” his eyes moved from the man back to the blonde, a snarl almost unable to disappear. but he dropped his hand from her wrist and stood there like sad little man he was, just horny and wishing for some of dylan’s girls to make him happier. “now i can set up a nice time slot for you in the champagne room if you go and you heard her, didn’t you? two drink minimum. i’ll take a top shelf cognac and for her-?” shoulder turned, addressing the new stripper, “-what would you like baby? don’t skimp, chad here’s gonna take care of you. grey goose?”

she knew how to move, she thanked the years of dance, cheer and gymnastics for how flexible she’d become, but stripping? that was a whole other ball game than a fucking ballet recital. she had to learn how to do more than just shake her ass and bat her lashes. it was a siren’s call, learning how to work with the pole, work on how to keep their attention, making each and every man feel special when in reality. what were they actually? a walking fucking piggy bank with a hard dick and a right hand, or, if they paid enough, she could be their right hand. if there was one thing delaney learned over the years it was this one thing, everything came with a price. apparently, the price of her set was assholes like this dickhead who decided he could touch her without payin’ a dime. 

respect was lost, and her respect? well that was one thing that you couldn’t buy back the moment it’d been lost with her. fuck, it was something she lost way too many fucking time before. sapphire hues rake over the man, long lashes fluttering as he stands, knees cooked almost as if he’s ready to fucking run, and apparently, he should. “don julio, platinum -- i’m more of a tequila typa’ girl. the entire fuckin’ bottle, ” the country accent is strong as her eyes set on the man who’s ripped his grasp off her wrist, shoving it back to his side before looking back at the pathetic excuse of a human being who stands before, her lip quirking into a smirk as she shakes her head. “that’s for dylan. as far as the champagne room? not enough money in the fuckin’ world, could get me to make this fucker’s wet dream come alive. someone else can take em’,” and it’s almost as if the nickname’s the final straw as her eyebrows perk, eyes turning back to... well fuck, she had to admit the beautiful idiot standing in front of her, putting on her best forced smile that she could muster. “the name’s angel, darlin’ or at least, that’s what they call me.”

[laneymeadows]

yourdeviousdealer‌:

There was something incredibly shallow about this entire encounter, a steamy session built around the simple fact that Ian could afford it and Angel needed her bills paid. He didn’t give a damn about what she thought about him either. He wasn’t there to exchange numbers; she knew what the expectations were, and he was happy with the price he had paid for her services. She did emphasize that he could do whatever he wanted to her and he couldn’t wait to get started. He was just starting to hit his peak on the Molly too and it was coming in fast – all the emotions, the intensity of the moment, his heart raced, and blood pumped into his impressive cock, keeping him solid and throbbing thanks to her. She got up from his lap and went over to put her money away, and Ian put away the rest of the money he had left over – it was probably crazy of him to carry so much cash in his wallet but it’d be even crazier for someone to try and rob him. His crystalline blue orbs followed her when she came back to him and she could see that she had captured all of his attention, eyes focusing on the woman in the dimness of the back room. He licked his lips as she started to unbutton the flannel she wore, doing the same with the bra that held back her full breasts and hid them from his eager gaze. She didn’t have to worry about him misbehaving – he was used to this protocol; he knew what the limits were. Then again, he knew he gave off the vibe of someone who’d be trouble, and in her line of work, it was always better to be cautious when those assholes came around. He was crude, arrogant, and selfish but when it came to sex, he was fully dedicated to the pleasure, and even more so when he was rolling as hard as he was.

When she came back over to him, his hands finally moved forward and began to explore her curvaceous frame. One landed on her hip as she returned to grinding on top of him, his own strong hips arching upwards so his thick length could press against her warm sex. “Mmm, Angel… fitting for you, but deceitful, isn’t it?” he muttered. He knew she was far from innocent. He didn’t know her at all but he could tell she had been through some things in her life that had made her this way: a hustler like him, working for her money and determined to get it whichever way possible, and not afraid to get her hands dirty if something came between her and her payday. He leaned forward and started to kiss down her neck, but she probably knew what he was searching for. When his lips landed on her chest, his gaze traveled upwards and he pressed bites and kisses along her breasts, eager to get a taste of them. His mouth latched onto one of her nipples and sucked before doing the same to the other, shamelessly exploring her body, going for exactly what he wanted as she rode and teased his concealed member.

The way her name, whether it be true or not rolled off his tongue was enough to get her wet, but him pushing himself into her was the truest cherry on top, “Lucifer was an angel wasn’t he? Fallen but still true,” the southern drawl is thickening, letting her layers fall as his hands roam over her body, thinking back to the money that lies in the clutch, because even if she hates this? It’s worth it. He was respectful enough, after all. Heat struck through her body as his mouth sucked at the sensitive skin that lied just at her neck, a small gasp fluttering through full lips as they make their way down to the perky breasts that she’d become known for. There were a few things god blessed her with, but a perfect rack, a sweet smile and a pool of blues that a man could drown in, though she cursed the brain that lied in her skull, because she’d remember every single moment of this, seamlessly. sober -- unless “ -- got anymore of those party favors, rich boy?” the words come out sickly sweet, watching as dilated eyes worship at her very feet, eliciting a symphony of moans as he begins to suck at the hardening buds. 

“I promise, I’m a lot more accomodating with a little bit of something, in my system. Afterall, don’t we all,” she wonders, glancing down to him. It helps. Helps cope, helps erase, helps electrify the parts of her body that have started to numb overtime, flipping on the switch that’s been off for what seems like ages. Just a little taste of the normalcy that’s been ripped away from her over the years. “Plus, I’ll be cumming twice as hard.”