#THAT BOY IS AS STRAIGHT AS A SLINKY

[bayoubodycount]

Daniel! Down boi, keep that shirt on..🤣🤭the boy is so eager to hold up his end of payment

[loveyouprongs]

did my heart love till now?

remus lupin x fem!reader | she’s a hopeless romantic who loves halloween. he loves her. or at least he very, very, strongly likes her in a way he’s never liked anyone else. enough to wear matching costumes

upcoming content: fluff! mentions of alcohol. lmk if you think i missed anything

authors note: i hope you like this! romeo & juliet is my favorite play and the 1996 film is my favorite movie! and remus is my favorite boy :’)!

word count: 2k

masterlist

remus had been staring at himself in the mirror for so long his reflection was starting to blur, like a watercolor painting made up of the soft brown of his hair, his pale complexion, and shining silver. he felt like a fool. “a lovesick fool,” james would say, but in this moment, he just felt like a fool. period.

“hey moony, have you decided what you’re going to be for halloween yet?” sirius asked as soon as he and james barged into their shared apartment. remus tore his gaze from his book at the sound of his best friend’s unnatural sounding greeting, loud and jilted as if he’d been practicing it.

“…no, wh-“

“well look no further!” james very enthusiastically exclaimed, pulling a brown bag out from behind his back which promptly fell to the ground, the contents now hanging between him and sirius. it was a knights armor. metal shoulder pads atop a slinky silver long sleeve top with chains resting across the chest.

“what the fuck is that?”

“your halloween costume!” james said as if it were obvious.

remus could do nothing but look at his two friends, who he cared for very deeply, as if they were right idiots.

“don’t you get it?” sirius asked, “it’s romeo!”

remus then felt his face red, heat rising to his cheeks all the way to his ears and he knew he couldn’t play dumb to get out of this.

last week at dinner you had said that you were planning on dressing as juliet for halloween. “from the movie of course!”

“isn’t that part of a couples costume?” marlene asked, “are you bringing a mystery man with you to my party?”

at that, remus tensed, his shoulders instinctively rising to his ears and his heart quickened waiting for your response. he hung out with you pretty much every day, you’re tight knit friend group always sharing at least one meal together. he felt like he would know if you had a boyfriend, but he was still feeling queasy waiting for your answer.

“no mystery men with me! i guess it could be a couple’s costume, but it’s so pretty, i don’t mind doing it solo.”

remus felt his body relax and continued to pick at his food, stealing glances at you whenever he could, missing the mischievous looks being traded between james and sirius.

“i am not wearing that,” remus said resolutely.

“why not? girls love this stuff!” sirius responded, tossing the costume on remus’ lap. he refused to touch it, as if any sign that he openly had feelings for you would somehow come back to bite him in the ass. it rested on his legs like an anchor.

“you want me to surprise her with a matching costume? that’s pathetic.”

“it’s sweet!” james stressed.

“yeah, and she’s always so heart eyed over that gooey romance shit, you show up in this and she’ll be begging for it!”

sirius’ crude comments was met with a smack in the head from james and an unimpressed stare from remus.

“remus, i’m telling you, this is a perfect idea! she’s single and dressing as one half of the greatest couples in history, if you show up as the other half, oh it’ll be like straight out of the pictures!” james swooned. remus felt his heart soften at his overdramatic friend, who he knew was just trying to help him be happy, but his nerves overpowered any convincing.

“you do know they both die at the end, right? kill themselves, even. not sure that’s a message i want to send.” remus muttered, standing up from the couch to go to his room, tired of his friend’s antics.

“you’ll never get a date by just staring at her, mate!” james called out, “and she’s well fit, too! you’re time is running out and you know it!” sirius added as remus walked down the hall, the metal costume in tow, only to be shoved in his closet.

but as halloween inched closer and his feelings for you only grew stronger, james and sirius’ words echoed in his head. he could never get the thought of your soft voice and sweet smile out of his mind, he liked you. so much.

you were always the one who kept listening to him when whatever he was saying was drowned out by the group. always spoke to him in dulcet tones, especially when you felt he had a headache. you were smart and funny and kind, not to mention beautiful. beautiful in a way that reminded him of the princesses and angels he would read about in books when he was a child. soft and warm, a glow seemingly always emanating from your figure.

remus would be content with just looking at you for the rest of his life, he thinks (deep down in the back of his brain, terrified of the strength of his own feelings) but it would be nice to do it without the feat of getting caught by your stare, or his friends taking the mick out of him afterwards.

so here he stood, his torso slightly weighed down by the heavy detailing, but it fit him well nonetheless. it was almost time for them to leave for marlene’s and remus could hear his friends in the living room. he had to make a decision soon.

“y’coming, moony?” james asked through the door.

remus took a deep breath, biting off a square of chocolate. he could do this. it was halloween! you’re supposed to be in a costume. and the film was popular enough, he figured, that he could play it off as a coincidence if things went south.

“…yeah, i’m coming.” he stepped out the door and walked down the hall, rolling his eyes at james’ loud gasp.

“oh my god you’re wearing it!” james practically screeched.

“don’t make me change my mind.”

“oh remus, you’re so handsome!” sirius teased in a high pitched voice, “please be my romeo!”

“for it is the east, and juliet is the sun!” james recited.

“that’s it, i’m changing!” remus exclaimed, only to be dragged back by his waist and walked out the door.

remus was hit by the noise of the party as soon as marlene swung the door open. her eyes trailed down james’ superhero outfit, sirius dressed as patrick bateman, and then remus, her face exploding in an open mouth smile. “reeeeemussss!!!!” she squealed, clearly already on her way to drunk, “you’re such a sweetheart!” she cooed, remus’ cheeks reddening more than he thought possible.

“isn’t he just? now let us in marls, it’s fucking freezing out here!” sirius said, and with a pat on the back, he and james were emerged in the crowd.

“she isn’t here yet, remus, but oh my god she’s going to love it,”

as the night went on remus had practically glued himself to marlene’s increasingly wasted side all night, no sign of james or sirius (who he would bet money are upstairs with dates, or each other), and more importantly no sign of you. he was feeling more foolish by the minute, the metal top growing uncomfortable against his sweaty skin.

disappointed was pooling in his stomach as marlene was nodding off on his shoulder, or so he thought, but he was brought out of his thoughts when a loud yelp escaped her. “you’re here! finally!”

marlene jumped up and stumbled over to a vision in white. flowing silk draped over your body, delicate, feathered wings pinned to your back. excess fabric tied around your waist, framing you beautifully. stunningly. remus felt like he was having an out of body experience, watching himself stand frozen in the middle of the living room, mouth slightly agape, willing himself to do anything other than stare.

“REEEEMUS LOOK! LOOK WHO IT IS!” marlene shout-whispered, shoving you towards him.

you felt your breath escape you at the sight. remus, tall and sweet, looking down at you, his tussled hair dancing across his forehead and his long fingers reached up to brush it out of his eyes, hand trembling. you weren’t fully convinced you weren’t dreaming.

“she, she’s pretty out of it,” he spoke softly, referring to marlene who was now dancing with a lamp.

“y-you look, i-i really like your costume, obviously” you murmured, fiddling with your hands, resisting the urge to run your hand down his sculpted cheeks.

ever since you met him, you believed remus was one of the most beautiful people you’ve ever seen. and then once you got to know him, got to experience first hand his limitless kindness, his witty remarks that always put the boys teasing to shame, and his rare barking laugh that only comes out when he finds something really funny (you elicited it from him once and have spent forever chasing that high).

all your friends said he had a thing for you. that he was always staring at you with soft, hooded eyes, move his plans around for you whenever you asked to study together, rest his jacket on the seat next to him so it would appear taken so no one else would sit down it it until you came.

but you were both famously mild-mannered, shy to a fault, and your feelings never rose to the surface, but the same couldn’t be said for right now.

“oh, thank you,” remus responded, “i thought it would be nice if we could match.”

a giggle escaped you at that and you looked down, unable to meet his eye, you both wearing twin smiles.

absolutely thrilled with your reaction, remus bent his body in half, tilting his head up to catch your gaze, eyes filled with hope, “what’d y’think?”

“i think you look very dashing, rem, i didn’t know you were a shakespeare fan.”

“hmm, not so much,” with a deep breath he let out, “i’m a fan of you, though”

the neon lights flashing over you both contributed to the bubble you found yourselves in. the rowdy guests nothing but white noise as you felt your heart pound against your chest over the soft spoken boy.

“really?” it slipped out. deep seeded insecurity worming it’s way to the forefront as you were positively overwhelmed with confronting your feelings… and that who you had them for.

remus’ heart splintered a little at your warbling ask, “yes” he let out, easy as breathing, “of course.” he placed a large hand on your shoulder, his thumb dancing on the edge of your collarbone.

“i’m a fan of you, too. more than anyone else,” you whispered with a step closer, your white ballet flats lightly knocking against the tips of his black boots, the space between you dwindling.

“aren’t i lucky,” remus murmured wistfully, “to have an angel say that about me”

with that you couldn’t take it anymore and pressed your lips to his, immediately getting lost in the sparks. unsure of what to do with your arms, you awkwardly placed them on remus’ forearms, as if you were holding him still in place. he smiled against your lips, the breath escaping from his chuckle dancing across your face as he lightly dragged your hands up his chest to rest on his shoulders.

you melted as he pulled you in, you gasped as he ran his tongue against your bottom lip, you chased after his lips when he pulled away with a stuttering breath. “y’have to give me a minute angel, or m’heart’s going to give out,”

you giggled, knowing exactly how he felt as he tucked his face into your neck.

“oi oi, c’mon lupin! what did i tell ya! i knew you could do it!” sirius shouted from across the room, thrusting his cup in the air in congratulations.

“oh christ,” remus muttered, his annoyance dissipating with your laugh.

“you are a lover, moony! borrow *hic* cupid's wings and soar with *hic* them above common ground!” james, although very drunk and hiccuping, recited.

all remus could do was roll his eyes, he had everything he wanted right in front of him. after he was done kissing you until the sun came up (and a little bit more after that), he could figure out when the fuck james seemingly memorized romeo and juliet.

[rafescvntyclubgf]

Jerk - Rafe Cameron Blurb

+18 Minor DNI

Perv!Rafe x Sbf!Reader

⭐ republished ⭐

+18 Minor DNI

🪄 Warnings (contains spoilers): Rafe jacking off while the reader sleeps, cum play includes reader, language, non-consensual touching, idk pervert things

📖 based off an ask: Perv rafe jerking off while reader sleeps 🥺

✨ “Hey, sweetheart. Long time no see,” I smile, feeling my cheeks burn in embarrassment as my voice cracks with nervousness. The boys fight their laughter, giving me obnoxious looks, tormenting me further.✨

1k

Rafe’s POV:

You’re going to kill me, sweetheart. I watch as she saunters into the kitchen in her pink silky pajamas with low-cut sides and high-cut bottoms. The curve of her breast peeks through the side. She reaches up high, grabbing a glass, causing the silk to slip up. Just a taste.

Fuck me.

I can feel myself aching for her. She draws the handle up, filling her glass with water. Her lips look delicious, pink, and pouty. I can’t help but fantasize about how they’d look wrapped around my cock, drool seeping from her lips as she deepthroats my dick. Her eyes flash to mine; I quickly look away, running my fingers through my hair, returning my focus to the boys.

“Welcome back, Cameron,” Topper teases before finishing off his beer. Kelce snickers and shakes his head piling on.

“Fuck off,” I mumble as I crack open a beer for myself, watching her out of the corner of my eye as she makes herself a little snack.

“Yo, stalker. A simple ‘hello’ might work better,” Kelce mocks.

“Shut the fuck up,” I grunt, hurling a throw pillow at him, spilling his beer on his chest.

Kelce looks over my shoulder, smiling as he blots the liquid off his polo meaning only one thing… she’s behind me. Is she going to sit down with me? I scoot over slightly on the couch, giving her space just in case. She looks down at me, smiling as she steps even closer. “Hey, Rafey.”

“Hey, sweetheart. Long time no see,” I smile, feeling my cheeks burn in embarrassment as my voice cracks with nervousness. The boys fight their laughter, giving me obnoxious looks, tormenting me further.

“It’s been so long. It’s good to see you,” she coos.

“Good to see you,” I return, leveling my voice with a smoother delivery. Thank fuckin’ god. “So, what’s up? You come out here to hang out with me or…”

“Oh… umm. Sarah and I are just watchin’ a movie. I needed my charger ‘cause my phone’s gonna die. It’s in my purse.”

“Oh yeah? You need my help finding it?” I ask.

“Well… You’re sitting on it I think?” She gestures to my spot on the couch with a soft, sweet smile, making me bloom with humiliation yet again. Why would she hang out with me when she’s here with Sarah? Stop bein’ a fuckin’ idiot.

The guys can’t contain their laughter anymore, looking at me with exaggerated pity as I stand up, holding the pillow that was covers my hard-on from watching her get water alone. Kelce wheezes with laughter, catching my cover-up. I mouth to the boys to ‘shut the fuck up’, the crazed look in my eyes quieting them quick.

“Sorry about your purse,” I sigh.

“Oh. It’s all good, Rafey,” she smiles as she snags her bag. “It’s nice seeing you. We should catch up or something,” she bubbles, stepping closer for a hug. I give her a half-hug, unable to fully commit in my current state. Fuck she smells so damn good. My palm caresses the curve of her lower back making my cock press even rougher against my zipper. I look down at her in my arms, revving myself up again as I get a look straight down her slinky little tank top, the perfect view of her half-hidden tits. I swear to god I could cum untouched.

Fuck I need her.

She has always been pretty; her image has been seared into my mind since the first time I saw her, and I swear she gets even prettier every time. Even her voice is sexy. I can’t imagine what she sounds like when she speaks that filthy shit I dream she says. I want to make her cum more than anything I’ve ever wanted in my entire fuckin’ life… I want to listen to her scream my name, moan it, chant it like a fuckin’ prayer. Rafe, Rafe, Rafe. I’ve replayed that interaction in the living room all night since she left me. I can’t stop.

I had to kick the boys out early. It wasn’t enough to browse her IG; I needed to study it with my fist wrapped around my dick. I scrolled through her feed, each picture sending me further and further into the depths of my lust. She was only a few doors down, driving me insane. I cleaned up the mess on my phone, dick still hard in my hand like I had done nothing at all.

I needed the real thing.

A delicate light illuminates her skin; that silky tank top lying disheveled now, leaving hardly anything to my imagination, which up to this point has not done her justice. Clearly. She’s flawless. Her hair spills across the pillow, her pouty lips juicy, beautiful eyes shut tightly. Her chest gently rises and falls as she breathes rhythmically, hypnotic motion, so soothing to watch. I want to reach out and touch her wet pussy. Circle her pretty little clit and watch her breathing quicken.

The room is pretty loud still, the steady drone of the ceiling fan, and an old rerun of a reality show playing on the TV. The buzz fills the silence, just enough noise to cover the squelching of my hand pumping my cock through a mess of lube. What I wouldn’t do to have it be her slick, wet cunt bouncing on top of me.

I wrap both hands around my dick, pulling to the tip, biting my lip holding back my moans. My eyes roll to the back of my skull. I fight them open, not wanting to miss the chance to stroke myself this close to her. “Fuckkk princess,” I groan, moving my hands counterclockwise, rubbing my thumb over my tip, catching the precum leaking out. “Mmm… just like that, pretty. So, so fucking wet. Does that feel good?“ I breathe.

She lets out a little breath, knitting her brows cutely. She adjusts slightly, giving me a full view of her breast as one spills out. Without thinking I reach out, dusting the pad of my finger across her nipple, watching as it harden under my touch. She whimpers, goosebumps spreading across her bare arm. I do it again, circling softly this time, making her moan. Holy fucking shit.

I begin thrusting up into my fist, gripping my length, holding back every primal urge to wake her and beg for what I need. What do I need? I’ve only thought about it a million times over. My dick in her pussy. My hands on her throat. My cum flowing out of her tight hole just so I can stuff that shit back in. Fuck I want it all.

My thighs start to quake, cock throbbing, muscles clenching tight. ”I’m almost there...“ I grunt. ”Oh, f-fuck… Ugh… Mmm...“ I look down, watching as my climax spurts and spills onto my fist, pooling around her lace panties I stole when I snuck in. I finish myself off slowly, exhaling sharply as I milk out the last bits of my cum.

I lean over, kissing her forehead and then her lips gently as I slip the panties off my softening dick. I breathe a sigh of relief, finally feeling a release. She’s all I needed. I slide her used panties into my pocket, messy with my cum, but I don’t give a fuck. I’m in heaven. I wanna know what we taste like together. Round three bitch.

I swirl my fingers through what little bit of my cum remains, smudging it along her plump bottom lip. She licks it clean and I swear I can see the corner of her lips curl into a slight smile.

Dirty girl.

[donatellawritings]

does bff!rafe ever yell at latina reader? like does he ever correct her/put her in her place like he would prolly be so hot

he’s kinda mean in this one sorry :(

it wasn’t an often occurrence for you to be put in your place by rafe, but it did happen at times. you were always so perky and bubbly that just couldn’t contain yourself, or you worked yourself out to the point of being a restless little brat. nevertheless, rafe wasn’t afraid to check you back into reality, if needed — plus, he was your bestest friend in this world, he couldn’t steer your wrong! and sure, to the public eye, his methods would seem to be a bit harsh, but you knew deep down that rafe was a man, and men had a duty to take care of the ones they love and keep them in a straight line, right?

today had been one of those days — you were sat next to rafe, all pretty and dolled up, your soft makeup enhanced but your fresh set of lash extensions and dior gloss that glazed your swollen lips, tiffany earrings glinting under the sun as you sat in your slinky cherry blossom skims dress, your feet adorned with miu miu mules. too bad, your doll-like cadence was quickly soured by the displeased frown that painted your face, your doe eyes squinted as you mindlessly chewed on your acrylic nail.

you got off on being the center of rafe’s attention, so having to take the backseat to some blonde kook who was schmooze some free coke out of him was a serious no-no.

crossing your arms, you subconsciously pushed your tits further against your chest, flipping your tousled and freshly layered hair over your shoulder, “fucking pendeja,” you mumbled, just loud enough for rafe to turn to you, his sunglasses covering the silencing glare that he sent your way.

“cut it out,” rafe warns, his voice low as he returns his attention back to the pathetic blonde, leaving you dumbfounded and a bit embarrassed.

letting out an unimpressed scoff, you raise from your seat, making your way over to barry who stood with a knowing smirk of his face, “what’s goin’ on, princesa — country club pissin’ y’off again?” he chuckles, taking a sip from the chilled bottle of beer that sat in his grip.

smoothing a manicure hand down your hip, you shrug, batting your full lashes, “i wanna go home, m’bored,” you announce, adjusting the strap of your cream mini prada bag that sat on your shoulder, “a mi no me importa que el dice — he’s mean,” you continue, earning a raised eyebrow from barry.

“if i took y’little ass home, that boy would freak out and m’not dealin’ with his crazy ass,” barry sighs, not missing the way you quickly whipped your head back to rafe, a low huff leaving your lips as he continued flashing his million dollar smile at the ditsy blonde, “yo, he’s just doin’ business, a’ight? don’t need to get all sad,” barry consoles, earning a forced smile from you.

with a small and uneasy nod, you turn your pretty little head to find rafe your rafe man spread with the blonde sat right on his lap, whispering little nothings into her ear as she snorts a line clean off of the coffee table. hot tears were quick to brim at your waterline as you stand with parted lips, your heart beating in your chest as you whip your head back to barry, who ran a stressed hand over his face.

your sad little head could barely process all of the emotions and thoughts that crashed over you. rafe was supposed to be your best friend — he wasn’t supposed to hurt you, he was supposed to be yours. he kissed you, he took you shopping, he danced with you, he read novels with you, he knew you better than you knew yourself … you were supposed to be his girl.

keeping your wet bambi eyes trained on your feet, you let out a quiet whimper, “barry, can you please take me home?” you asked politely, quickly knuckling your stream of tears as barry wordlessly nodded, nudging your forearm with the surface of his rough hand.

𝜗𝜚 ‧₊˚ ⊹

sat on your fluffy powder pink duvet, thumb in mouth, you managed to chip the pearlescent polish that coated you structured nail, knees curled into your chest. your dress had been swapped for tiny pink shorts and a skimpy white camisole that clung to your frame. barry was so nice to you, even making sure that you were inside of your house, before he sped off.

you was sparkly eyes now blinked all swollen from your relentless tears, nose and cheeks flushed as the sound of heavy footsteps grew closer to your locked bedroom door, pulling your thumb out of your mouth, you sniffle as rafe’s voice calls out from the other side of your door, his hand fumbling with the secure knob, “c’mon kid, just open the door, yeah? i know y’mad at me,” he sighs, taking a brief pause from jiggling the door knob, before sending a light shove into the door, “i swear to god, i’ll fuckin’ break this door,” he calls out, sending a harder shove into the door.

your doe eyes widened with fear as you hopped off of your bed, rafe’s frustrated hits against the door growing harder as you pad over to unlock the door, barefoot and all.

wrapping your small hand around the knob, you coyly open the door, your short and meek frame met with an impatient rafe who towered over you with blown pupils, “fuck are y’doing, leavin’ with barry, huh?” he questions menacingly, his button-up now revealing his firm chest as he tongues the inside of his cheek, “y-y’say that slick shit while m’doin business, and then y’wanna fuckin’ leave?” he laughs, completely unamused as he cocks his head to the side.

remaining silent, you shrug, bottom lip poked out into a pout as you reach to softly close the door behind rafe, “i dunno,” you whimper, your voice cracked as rafe shoves your arm away from the door, before slamming it shut and locking it with a forceful hand.

“i let y’spoiled ass get away with a looot of shit, don’t i? y’get your little fuckin’ attitude — who’s the one that fixes it, huh?!” rafe asks rhetorically, jabbing his fingers into his chest as you squeeze your dolly eyes shut, stray tears rolling down your cheeks.

letting out an unfazed scoff, rafe shoots a hand out to latch onto your jaw, painfully mushing your cheeks together, “y’think i let people bitch me around, princess? look at me when m’talkin to you!” he shouts, your dewy eyes fluttering open as a choked-up cry leaves your pillowy lips.

gently pawing at rafe’s flexed wrist, your eyes soften, “y’scaring me, papi,” you squeak out, small shorts wedged between your ass cheeks as rafe’s eyes shoot down to the bff locket that sits between the valet of you supple breasts.

returning his eyesight to meet yours, rafe swiftly removes his hand from your sore jaw as he grabs ahold of your waist, spinning you to face your bed as he bends you over the edge of your bed. muffled cries leave your lips, the side of your face mushed against your duvet as rafe’s front pushes against the exposed curves of your ass.

“rafe— stop—”

“m’scarin you, yeah? y’wanna know what a guy like barry would do to your little ass?” rafe mutters, his strong hand maintaining its hold on the back of your head.

“rafe, stop! please!” you scream, pure terror in your voice as you hiccup against the sheets, loud sobs heaving out of you as rafe abruptly pulls away from you.

pained cries seep out of your mouth as you remained bent over, fat teardrops soaking your duvet as you mewl into the soft plush, you heart raced a million miles a minute, shaky hands reaching to cover your own mouth.

passing a hand through his buzzed hair, rafe lets out a shaky breath, the sound of your sharp and intense cries ringing through his ears as he shakes his head, he knew that he went entirely too far. you remained on your bent, your small frame shuddering with shock as your eyes squeezed shut, your wet lashes clumped together.

laying a hesitant hand to your sweaty lower back, rafe winces in shame as you flinch away from his touch with a scared little sob, “fuck — mama, please — m’sorry a’ight,” he sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose with his ringed finger and thumb, your sharp cries becoming entirely too much for him to bear, “okay-okay, m’gonna sit you on my lap, okay?” he coos, his palm sliding down your back in soothing strokes.

tucking his bottom lip underneath his sharp teeth, rafe waits until your cries has somewhat subsided, before he gently pulls you into his sturdy arms. still skittish, you keep your eyes shut, burying your face to hide in the crook of his cologne-scented neck. low cries sniffle from your nose as rafe carefully maneuvers himself to lean against the headboard of your bed, while keeping you securely curled against him.

“there we go,” he mumbles under his breath, gently placing one of your legs to straddle over him, you back arched as your small hands fist into his shirt for dear life.

raising a hand to stroke over your hair, rafe presses his lips to the side of your head, lightly caressing you, until your breathing evened out, your eyes still closed.

adjusting the waistband of your pink shorts, rafe gently pats your poked out ass, his other hand now scratching at your scalp as he leans his lips closer to your ear, “can y’open your eyes for me — miss those pretty eyes,” rafe asks, his voice light and airy as your fists unravel from his shirt.

slowly raising your head from rafe’s chest, you let out a smooth huff, the tip of your nose shiny as your bloodshot eyes meet rafe’s. allowing his pink lips to expand into a satisfied smile, rafe nudges your chin, “hi pretty girl … didn’t mean to scare y’like tha—”

“i thought you were going to hurt me, papi. i-i don’t like when you get like that,” you rush out, licking over your dry lips, your fingers lazily fumbling with the hem of rafe’s shirt.

mindlessly drumming his hands against the sides of your hips, rafe nods in agreeance, “i know, sweetheart an—”

“and i left, because you w-were with that stupid girl and you let her sit on your lap … you only let me do that,” you cut in once more, tits stretching against the thin fabric of your cami as you take in a shaky inhale, still not secure enough to maintain an elongated eye contact with rafe.

bringing both hands to cradle your face, rafe raises your head, requiring your full attention, “gotta let me talk for this one, okay?” he reprimands softly, earning a short nod from you.

just as rafe parted his lips to continue, you sighed, “only i can sit on your lap, mi vida,” you whine.

accepting defeat, rafe nods, pulling you in by your bff necklace to get you in a warm kiss. a gasp of shock seeped into rafe’s mouth from yours as he pulls away with a loud and wet smack, “i know, kid.”

[hikarry]

Spencer, dear, I'm so sorry, but "I Will Survive" is not a Crowley song. Seriously? Disappointed

Bro-

Do I-

*waves frenetically towards the picture below*

Portraying Crowley as this suave, cool and mysterious guy that breathes rock is such a surface level analysis of this dork. That's what HE wants you to think of him. Gorgeous redhead fellaw with slinky hips and rockstar style, yes, BUT

He had his silly goose phase and his silly goose phase was Disco Tony and everyone in my household is going to respect Disco Tony

Look me in my bloody eyes and tell me this lil queer fella and his buddy Freddie Fucking Mercury didn't go down to the Golden Lion back in old Soho and drink their weights in beer as "I Will Survive" played and they kissed some guys here and there?

("Why the Golden Lion again, sweetheart? Why not that Harpoon Louis place everyone is talking about back in Earls Court Road?"

"Ngk, no reason. Absolutely not because I'm very desperately trying to bump into this very very annoying guy whom's I've only seen from a far since we last talked in the 60's after he gave me something we had had a fight over some years before and now we are kinda weird with each other and I dunnot know what he expects of me, but, fucking Heaven's, why does the bloody angel have to be so bloody complicated anyway? You should have seen the way he looked at me. The bloody idiot sitting in my Bentley saying I "go too fast". Go too fast?! What does that even mean?!"

"Ah. Right. Bookshop darling."

"Ngk. No. More like. Pain in my arse. The idiot. The way he looked at me made me feel like...agh....like I was falling apart. Is it really so hard for him to stop being a posh little shite and talk to me straight? Stop- Don't look at me like that. Pull that bloody eyebrow back down, you noisance. You know exactly what I mean. I just...ngk, it feels so lonely sometimes and-"

"Lonely, you say, darling?"

"Don't. Don't you even, Mr. Big Shot Rock Star. Azi-...The angel and I go back a long long time. I'm just used to have him around, that's all, but he's so...so..."

"Extremely queer and quite dishy? I don't see the problem here, really, Tony dear. Just walk up to the bloke and grab his arse. Worked for me and Jim just fine."

"You got bloody lucky, is what you got. Absolutely high out of your own arse, you bastard. I don't do that."

"Oh, but you do-"

"Ngk. No. Not to him...Bloody Heavens, stop-"

"I didn't say anything."

"I can feel you judging all the way from here, Melina."

"My sincere apologies if my sunglasses cannot hide how much I think you're a bloody cream puff, Anthonia Jennifer Crowley. The man is unmistakably almost as bent as the two of us combined. How much do you want to bet with me, right here, right now, that man is dying to have you turn him into an artiste until he is absolutely knackered?"

"Satan, you're fucking impossible sometimes...It's not that bloody simple, alright? Just. There's so much left unspoken between us still and-"

"God, that's a load of tosh, Anthony. You're arse over tits in love with the bloke and instead of getting a move on and a possibly great shag..."

"...Fred...?"

"Hold up one second, darling. Let me just-"

"Fred-What the-Fred-What-Is that-Where the fuck did you take that notebook from? We are on out way to the pub! What-! Stop bloody writing-!"

BAAM Freddie Mercury writes "One Year Of Love" on his way to the Golden Lion in Soho in the company of his mate Anthony J. Crowley, once again sucking on the man's pinning for the mysterious bookshop bloke he has the hots for.)

Anyway- (Adhd brain. It's 5 am on a saturday. What do you want from me?)

I rest my case

Snake boy absolutely asks Alexa to play that song when he is alone in his flat and he wants to feel a lil nostalgic and let loose

[oneforthemunny]

the original mafia!eddie blurb. how he and reader met <3

mafia!eddie munson who started moving weight with rick in hawkins like his dad did before. he swore he’d never be like him, be apart of this after what happened to his mother, but everyone’s gotta make a living some how. and rick’s boys are starting to supply to the majority of the midwest, chicago being their main route of business. bringing up far too much money to turn down. no one thinks to look in the middle of nowhere indiana. no one even knows about hawkins. it’s the perfect set up, eddie couldn’t refuse.

“it’s in your blood, boy,” wayne tells him, and from then on, his name is said with a hint of fear.

he’s laundering with the big names of the game, paying off hopper and anyone else who might be a threat. rick’s moved to another city, securing the route while eddie stays in hawkins, ensuring everything gets where it’s supposed to.

he’s the top dog, no one fucks with him. everyone knows but no one wants trouble, so they pretend they don’t know out of fear of one of his boys paying them a visit.

you’re new to town, nancy wheeler’s college roommate come to hawkins for a job at the bank here. eddie comes in one day, all black button down that’s left open, inked skin, and gold necklaces.

“hi, there sweet thing,” he purrs over the counter at you. most would cower under his stare. not you. “charles around?”

“do you have an appointment?” you ask, lifting a brow.

eddie smirks. “nah, baby, I don’t need an appointment. tell him eddie’s here to see him.”

you blink, unfazed by his slinky smile, narrowed eyes. “you can’t see mr. harrington without an appointment.” you give him an unimpressed look. “if you’d like to make an appointment, I can set one up for you-“

“-sweetheart, you must be new here.” eddie’s teeth grit slightly. “I know you’re new here, I’d remember a face like yours.” you blush gently under his grin. “me and charles go way back. I don’t need an appointment to see him.”

“eddie, was it?” you raised a brow. “I’m just doing my job. mr.harrington said no one was to come in without an appointment and as much as I would love to believe you two are old friends, I can’t just let you back there without an appointment.” you huffed, lips pursing in annoyance.

eddie’s eyes were trained on the burgundy gloss of your lips, how juicy they looked. his tongue tan over his bottom lip, fingers tapping against the desk. anyone else, he would’ve flashed his glock on his hip or walked back there ignoring her. but he’d play her little game, if for no other reason than to speak to her longer.

joyce stuttered out your name, a horrified look on her face when you turned, brows furrowed in confusion. “I-I’m so sorry, eddie, she-she’s new here. she doesn’t know yet-“

“-that’s alright.” eddie smirked, looking over at you. “she’s just doing her job. real good at it too. better than the last one.”

joyce let out a nervous laugh, glaring at you when she ushered him back. “she’s not from here.” she whispered to eddie, leading him down the hallway towards charles’ office.

“I know.” eddie grinned salacious.

“I’ll make sure she knows. I’m so sorry about this again.” joyce rambled.

eddie waved her off. “don’t worry about it. don’t go gettin’ her in trouble either. she was just doing her job.” eddie gave her a smile, but his glare was threatening. joyce nodded, watching his disappear behind the door with the frosted window.

when he returned, stopping by your desk, you turned, posture straight and attentive, a little tense. he could tell joyce told you something, what he wasn’t sure.

you assumed he was back to boast, brag and make you apologize for dare doubting him- for doing your job. instead, he stood, palms flat against the counter.

“I need to make an appointment.” eddie purred slowly. “I’ll be back in three days to see charles again. he got anything then?”

you faltered for a moment, looking down at your book, you flipped through the pages of the calendar, scanning a red, manicured nail down the pages- eddie wanted to groan. “how about at one o’clock? after lunch?” you suggested.

eddie smirked. “works perfect for me, angel.”

you penciled it in, already knowing his first and last name without him telling you. so joyce had filled you in.

“I gotta make an appointment with you too?” eddie asked, leaning against the counter. “or can I just ask you out?”

you blushed, surprised. you bit back a smile, looking down at the book to hide your heated cheeks. “that depends,” you quipped, leaning forward. “where you gonna take me?”

eddie rolled his tongue over his front teeth, smirking. “what time you get off? six?” he asked, you nodded. “I’ll pick you up then. take you anywhere you wanna go.”

“anywhere?” you repeated.

“anywhere.” eddie nodded. “wherever you want.”

you twisted your lips. “I’ve got expensive taste. that gonna be a problem?” you listed a brow.

eddie laughed. “not at all, baby.” he winked at you. “see you at six. I’ll be out front.”

your heart fluttered, gnawing at your lip.

six o’clock rolled around, too slow for your liking, and there he was. black, sleek, mercedes with a dark tint that had to be illegal. he opened the door for you, a gorgeous, obnoxiously large bouquet of flowers in the front for you.

he took you to novo dolce, an obnoxiously expensive italian restaurant downtown- your choice. you didn’t know that’s where eddie did most of his deals in the back rooms, and that are his heart only beat harder for you.

he pulled your chair out, opened the doors, ordered you an expensive glass of wine- more expensive than you would’ve ever ordered on a first date, but he let you pick your own entree. he listened to you talk about your hometown, your life before hawkins, how you met nancy and how will got you the job at the bank. you asked about him too, but his answers were short, ominous. it made you only more curious.

he held the door open for you, your hands wrapping around his waist to pull him close to you. you tasted the bourbon he’d drank on his tongue, leaving your head spinning, pulling him in for more and more, until he had you pressed against the cool metal of the car, his tongue exploring every inch of your mouth, hands gripping your hips.

you knew he’d be bad for you, by the way your heart raced when his ring clad hand gripped your thigh, pinky skimming closer and closer up your leg towards your heated core. it made your squirm. you knew he wasn’t good, your better judgements told you to run, but how could you? when he looked this good, talked so sweet, and tasted like heaven.

[suugarbabe]

Love your writing! Could you do a Theodore Nott and best friend reader who he is head over heels for but is too scared to admit his feelings. Mattheo knows how he feels and at a party or something like the Yule ball he brings her as his date to mess with him. Probably leads to a small fight with the boys but results in Theodore confessing to her and maybe some smut as well.

Love a little shy and angry Theo

You and Pansy seemingly walked into a conversation, nay argument, between Theo and Mattheo. As soon as the boys noticed you two, Mattheo made a b-line straight for you.

"Hello, darling," Mattheo greeted you, cocky smile on full display. You chanced a glance at Pansy as you rolled your eyes. She wore a smirk and raised her eyebrows as if to say 'play along I guess'.

"Hi, Matty. Something I could help you with?" You gave him a dazzling smile of your own.

Mattheo ran his tongue along the front of his teeth, eyeing you up and down, "Would you do me the absolute pleasure of going to the Ravenclaw party with me tonight?"

You shifted your weight, jutting a hip out and tapping your chin like you were thinking about your answer, "Can I wear whatever I want?" You stood straight now, putting your hands behind your back and batting your eyelashes at the dark haired man.

Mattheo gave you a dimpled smile, "Go naked for all I care, love." You smirked at him, pecking his cheek, "Perfect. See you tonight." You grabbed Pansy's hand and pulled her toward your dorms.

As you disappeared up the steps Mattheo returned to where Theo sat. "You gonna tell me what the bloody hell that was, Riddle?" Mattheo rolled his eyes at his friend, "I told you, Nott. If you don't go after what you want, someone else will. Tonight, that someone is me."

In your room you and Pansy were having a similar conversation.

"I thought you were in to Theo," Pansy laid back on your bed, popping Bertie Botts in to her mouth as you dug through your trunk for the perfect dress.

You held up a slinky green piece with diamond straps, "Gotcha." You smiled to yourself as you stood, tossing the dress on your bed next to Pansy. She held it up, "Definitely slutty."

"Thank you," you smiled, shimmying off your school skirt and unbuttoning your blouse, "and I do like Theo, but he's being a bloody idiot. I thought maybe he didn't like me, but Mattheo just proved me wrong."

Pansy quirked an eyebrow as you pulled the dress over your head, "Little help with the straps, Pans?" She stood behind you, adjusting the diamond straps until the appropriate pattern was revealed. You turned to face her, giving her a twirl before she crossed her arms, waiting for your further explanation.

You huffed, mirroring her body language, "I know you've told Draco that I like Theo, which means that Draco told Mattheo because Draco can't keep anything to himself. SO Mattheo wouldn't ask me to a party when he knew I was pining after his best friend. Unless..."

"Unless Theo was being a huge pussy," Pansy nodded her head in full understanding. You smiled a devilish smile at her, glad your friend was able to piece it all together.

At the party you were giving Theo a full on show. You didn't let Mattheo in on your knowledge of the situation, but he seemed to be playing the role you wanted him to perfectly none the less.

With a decent amount of drinks your hips found a rhythm against Mattheo, your ass pressed firmly against his crotch as you both swayed to the music. You chanced a glance near the drink table where you knew Theo was essentially rooted.

His eyes were glued to your form, hand crushing the red cup in his grip and tossing it to the floor before stalking towards you and Mattheo. As he got closer, you opened your mouth to stop him but when you saw a fist flying you quickly stepped out of the way.

Theo's fist connected with Mattheo's jaw, which only made the latter pause for a second, a smirk gracing his face. Mattheo reared his fist back, fully planning to punch Theo back when suddenly both boys were frozen.

You took a step forward, wand outstretched, "That's enough." You lowered your wand, glaring at the small crowd that was forming before they quickly dispersed. You grabbed Theo by the wrist, dragging him out of the Ravenclaw common room and to the tower steps.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" For once you were looking down at Theo, him on the steps below you. Theo huffed, turning his head to look at his feet.

You were frustrated, not able to help nearly shouting at him, "Theodore Tiberius Nott, look at me right now."

Theo's eyes snapped to yours instantly, "I-I'm sorry," he started, "I don't...don't know what came over me." He looked down at his hands briefly before looking you in the eyes again, "Why did you come with him?"

You placed a hand on Theo's cheek, "Because the guy I wanted never did."

Theo closed his eyes, taking a deep breath, "I'm an idiot aren't I?" You laughed lightly, "Maybe just a little." You smiled, turning to place a gentle kiss on your palm.

"Go back in with me?" he asked, blue eyes full of remorse. You shook your head, "I think," you leaned down, giving a chaste kiss on the lips, "that maybe we should go to the after party."

You started down the stairs, Theo turning confused, "Where's the after party?" Without turning around you answered him, "In my room." This time Theo didn't hesitate before following quickly behind you.

[spiders-hth-is-an-outlier]

This is a post absolutely nobody asked for because 0 of you follow me for Takes on music, but one of the pop music podcasts I listen to has been all in on Pop Girl Spring, and they played a little game the other week where they did a draft for the top 10 songs from all the albums they’ve been covering – so that’s the new releases by Taylor Swift, Beyonce, Maggie Rogers, Gracie Abrams, Dua Lipa, Billie Eilish, Charli XCX, Ariana Grande, and Kacey Musgraves, plus the currently charting album-less singles by Sabrina Carpenter and Chappell Roan.  And while I don’t have the fun structure of a competitive draft to play with, it did make me sit down and hash out my own Top 10, and I have literally nowhere to put the fruits of all that effort except Tumblr, so here’s way, way more words than anyone asked for about POP GIRL SPRING.

Listed in not-exactly no particular order, but also not in This Specific Order, like, this is not a countdown, I’m not ranking them with great specificity or anything.  The 10 songs I need on my imaginary Pop League Team.

Good Luck, Babe! (Chappell Roan): Rise and Fall of a Midwest Princess is a great album and I think Roan has a great career ahead of her (knock on wood), but this is the first song she’s released that feels like a Timeless Hit to me, like the kind of thing that’s going to show up in Buzzfeed quizzes in the 2040s about picking the best songs from this decade.  On god, this could be one of the best pop choruses ever written – starting with that fucking high note is such a flex! – and it’s such a poster child for how great, earwormy pop music can tell a fairly specific story and make it feel deeply universal.  Legendary.  No notes.

Espresso (Sabrina Carpenter): SONG OF THE SUMMER.  Is it a better pop song than Good Luck, Babe?  No.  Is it the Song of the Summer anyway?  Yes, because those aren’t supposed to be Timeless, they’re supposed to make you forever remember *this specific summer* in your life.  It’s a great song with an unbeatable hook, and I dig the fact that it makes just slightly less sense than it probably should – caffeine is the metaphor for…how you’re going to stay up nights thinking about Sabrina Carpenter?  Okay.  Whatever you say.  It’s not a song about anything, which sometimes is bad but in this case is amazing, and there’s something marvelously audacious about committing to lines like “walked in and dream-came-true’d it for ya.”  Bonkers.  Delightful.  Carpenter has put out like 4 albums which does not seem possible for someone I up until now only vaguely remembered as “was on that nostalgia-bait Boy Meets World sequel series,” but man, she came to play with this one.

BILLIE GETS TWO

BIRDS OF A FEATHER: Hit Me Hard and Soft is a fantastic album, managing to edge further into straight-up pop territory without compromising the distinctive voice that’s made Eilish the Snobby Music Critic’s Pop Princess.  I have no idea how long she’s going to be able to (or want to) keep splitting the difference between these two identities, but she’s doing it right now, probably doing it better than anyone since Little-Earthquakes-era Tori Amos.  I chose this song because I think it does the best job of fusing those elements: it’s a right-down-the-middle love song in the classic pop vein of “i know my baby is a life-ruining trainwreck but honestly i do not care,” and it’s got good mid-tempo ballad structure with that little bit of haunted-ness that is Eilish’s signature sound, and I just think it’s probably the most solid song on the album.

CHIHIRO: This one is my *favorite* song on the album, which is why it’s here.  I don’t know what it’s about.  It’s not particularly “radio-friendly” (is that a thing anymore? What do we say instead of that? Digestible?)  It’s slinky and vaguely threatening and it just feels like a song that nobody else could do. It’s the one that’s been most consistently stuck in my head since I first listened to the album.  I feel like it’s flying under the radar a little, but I’m super here for it.

The Kill (Maggie Rogers): I feel like people sleep on Maggie Rogers because her marketing aesthetic seems kind of like, navel-gazing folky singer-songwriter, which is not all that Of the Moment right now.  But the thing is, that’s really not accurate at all!  Her music is just straight down-the-middle, strongly crafted pop, WHY is she not more famous?  She’s so good!  Don’t Forget Me is just so, so solid as a pop album, crammed full of songs that are massive hits in some alternate universe. “It Was Coming All Along” is my personal favorite, but for this list I’m sticking with The Kill, just because it seems to be the closest thing to a breakout hit off the album and I want to hype it up.  It’s a bouncy, incredibly sing-along-able song about a mutually destructive relationship, what is not to love.  Pop music was invented for this.

BEYONCE ALSO GETS TWO

BODYGUARD:  Look, I’m going to level with you, I wanted to like Cowboy Carter a lot more than I did. For me, the album has exactly the same flaw as Renaissance did, which is that it fundamentally feels like Beyonce has done a *ton* of research for her music history degree, stuffed every bit of it into the album, and by god you are going to listen to her senior thesis on the Black roots of popular music.  Both albums are like – so smart and so sincere and they just feel – a little bogged down to me.  I don’t know.  This may be entirely because I am just not on Beyonce’s level here, but there’s something about Cowboy Carter that makes it hard for me to really love as an album, rather than as a project.  That said, there were several tracks I really liked, and this one’s probably my favorite, maybe because it sounds the most authentically like a Beyonce track to me.  Whatever you think of Jay-Z or of the Carters’ marriage, it’s undeniable that a huge part of her as an artist and a human is tied up in this idea of being one half of their partnership, and when she does these “it’s me and my baby versus all the rest of you bitches” songs, she always strikes what to my ear is her most authentic, heartfelt notes.  BODYGUARD has a cool, California-road-trip kind of vibe that puts me in mind a little of “03 Bonnie & Clyde,” but appropriately, more grown-up now.

YA YA: After complaining that a lot of her recent music feels a little too overstuffed with References, I have to say that this is one of the worst offenders – but it fuckin works.  This feels deeply retro but not at all in a corny way, a great update of a certain kind of mid-century honky-tonk music that makes it feel vital and current.  I don’t think Beyonce has truly hit the same high in terms of weaving her politics and her music together since Lemonade, but to me this song stands up well alongside that album (which for the record, I think was a generational achievement, a truly transcendent work of art).  Also, as appropriate for a song whose theme is “shake your ass in defiance of a world that does not care about you,” the ass-shaking game is on point!  I honestly wish this song had received all the success that went to TEXAS HOLD ‘EM, which is a song I truthfully feel is hokey and try-hard.  This one covers the same ground but infinitely better.

Von Dutch (Charli XCX): I am a naysayer to Brat Summer, I’m sorry to say; I think Charli is a fairly decent pop musician and Brat is a fairly decent pop album, but I do Not get the hype.  It’s got some worthwhile tracks, and I do appreciate that she’s allowed some space to excavate less-common themes in pop music – songs about wondering if now is when she should be having kids, about wrestling with the way that other women bring out her personal insecurities – rather than just the genre staples of Love and Partying and Being Awesome.  That said.  I think the best song on the album is just a regular-degular banger about partying and being awesome.  If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.

YES, TAYLOR ALSO GETS TWO (man, it’s a 31-track double album! Get off my back!)

Down Bad: One of the things I don’t think Swift gets credit for, due to being overshadowed by the Harrowing Constant Drama of her personal life, is that she legitimately has a dry, off-kilter sense of humor that brings much-needed levity to the Harrowing Constant Drama of her body of work.  TTPD is, among other things, a *funny,* self-aware album about how knowing full well that your emotions are absolutely unhinged vis-a-vis actual reality doesn’t actually do jack shit to keep you from drowning in those emotions.  A lot of the hate for this album has really come from people who Do Not get the joke, who are cherry-picking verses and single lines from deeply self-aware songs without providing the context of that self-awareness.  I love this song.  I love the chorus: crying at the gym is a detail that’s perfectly, wryly relatable in its absurdity, and “everything comes out teenage petulance / fuck it, if I can’t have him I might just die” in that swingy, chipper groove is exactly why no one does it like she does, packing all that ambiguity and frustration and self-loathing of your own irrationality into a great hook.  I love the fuckin alien abduction framing device to talk about a relationship whose impact inside your own head and heart is wildly out of proportion to its impact on the materiality of your daily life – a relationship that *might as well have* happened on an entirely different planet than the one everyone else lives on.  It’s great.  This is a great song.

The Albatross: So I wanted for the second TTPD track to pick something from the other side of Swift, the one that *is* deeply, irretrievably, uncomfortably emotionally sincere.  There were definitely some strong contenders, but I kept coming back to this song, which I actually have heard very little chatter about, but has snuck up on me as an album favorite.  I try not to get too lost in the labyrinth of Swift’s endless Easter eggs and self-mythologizing, but this is a song that I do think benefits from understanding its place in her personal biography; specifically I think it gains a lot from seeing it as a companion piece to “The Archer,” a softly agonized song from the beginning of a relationship about the duality of predator and prey, about wanting to go all-in but dreading the part of you that you know is capable of sabotaging this.  The Albatross is – a softly agonized song from the ending of that same relationship about the duality of destruction and salvation, about wanting so much to protect someone you used to love from the havoc *that same love* has ultimately inflicted on their life.  There’s a whole novel lying in the space between these two songs, and both of them feel raw and intimate in the way they expose the pain and vulnerability and shame that shadow the act of allowing yourself to love someone.  TTPD was, in my opinion, rushed out too quickly, an experiment in presenting Swift’s emotions in a more unprocessed, uncrafted way to make a statement about art as a survival mechanism during emotional times, but an experiment that doesn’t entirely work; it truly could have benefited from another six to twelve months of cooking and a strong editorial pass.  To me, this song is a glimpse of what TTPD could have been if instead of being rushed to press in the middle of her ginormous tour for the sake of her own catharsis, it had been given the space and attention that Folklore/Evermore were given.  The Albatross is truly (like The Archer before it) an optimal wedding of Swift as a chronicler of her own interiority and Swift as a generationally gifted musical craftsman.

(I had a couple of also-rans, so shout out to Dua Lipa’s “Happy For You,” a song I really loved off an album I thought was kinda phoned-in overall, and Gracie Abrams’s “Tough Love,” through which I learned that there could potentially be something interesting about Gracie Abrams, someday.)

[hlficlibrary]

HL Fic Library 💜 Genderfluid Fics

Remember to leave kudos and a comment on the fics you enjoyed to show your appreciation! You can find our other recs here.

💜 love is a word, you gave it a name by  CuckooTrooke / @larrydoinglaundry [E, 158k]

After two decades in brutal show business, Louis Tomlinson is trying to restore his tranquility of mind in the peace of Northern Europe where the sun barely sets, Maria's bar is always open, and young Harry has an irresistible spark in his eyes.

💜 Demon and Immortal (series) by delsicle / @eeveelou [E, 90k]

Harry is a demon and Louis is his eternal mate.

💜 an everlasting eclipse by you_explode /@nobodymove [M, 63k]

The sky is a deep blue and a soft breeze blows through the willow trees. From his position outside the railway station, Harry can see the centre of the village in one direction and rows of trees in the other. He feels his nerves could choke him, but so too could his excitement.

He is to have a family.

Anne of Green Gables/Anne With An E AU. In 1891, orphan Harry is adopted by the Teasdales and goes to live on their small farm in Holmes Chapel. In his new life he finds supportive relationships, he finds himself, and eventually, he finds a home.

💜 Angel of Little Deaths by superglass [M, 54k]

It’s morning light when he looks back at Louis, bright and unfiltered, like a halo. He will never forget this image; he will chase to find it again, in this same way. So perfect in time; if he had a camera he’d capture it. How the thin knit of the sweater falls over the dip of Harry’s collarbone, his lovely neck bared for Louis’ lips when they come close again. His lips stretched wide and pink in a closed smile, until they break free to reveal his bunny teeth. How his legs cross almost childishly, bare ankles crossed, the creamy expanse of his thighs pale. His hair, messy and disheveled, before an array of light. His new love: Harry. His new muse; his new everything. or

Louis is a lonely artist in Florence, Harry is a runaway Parisian student. 1970s au.

💜 Amor Victorious by HappyPrince / @happy-prince [E, 38k]

Louis finds himself following Harry on a journey through Italy, complete with long train rides, greasy food, naked Christs, and too many lingering touches. They're definitely not like other tourists and he definitely doesn't have a crush on his best friend who happens to be an alpha, too.

💜 starin' back from the lookin' glass (there stood a woman where a half-grown boy had stood) by 4ureyesonly28 / @evilovesyou [E, 23k]

Harry squeezed his feet into the black heels his mother handed him from their little satin bag and stood up, slightly wobbly for a few seconds before he caught himself.

“They’re small on you, I know,” Mama said quietly as she went and grabbed the mirror. “You’ll have to use your first money to get a place to stay, but after that you need to buy shoes that fit you…”

She was still speaking, but Harry couldn’t hear her anymore over the blood rushing in his ears as she turned the mirror and made him look at himself.

He looked… He was… He felt like a woman. Where just under an hour ago, he’d seen a boy, barely a young man, shaving off the bits of his beard that had started to grow in so late, he now saw a woman. She was as real as he had ever seen. His posture, unsure and shy, morphed into hers, shoulders straight and hip cocked as she tried her best to balance herself on the high heels she’d inherited.

💜 Little Black Dress (I wanna see the way you move for me, Baby) by HachimansKitsune [M, 19k]

Harry's has an obsession he feels guilty about. When an impulsive moment leads him to make the purchase, he expects to never actually follow through with his desires. Then Louis finds the dress -- the slinky, silky black dress -- and Daddy takes the decision out of Harry's hands.

💜 fallin' and laughin' at the drinks we spilled by enbyharry / @non-binharry [E, 14k]

Louis is living his best #vanlife and travelling around the US, visiting big cities and small towns. In an effort to see as many places as he can, he never stays for more than a day. He stops in some bar in the middle of nowhere Kentucky where he meets a beautiful boy named Harry. He stands out from the rest of the patrons in the bar with his black midi slip dress and fur coat draping off his shoulders, despite it being a hot summer night.

They drink and dance and maybe even get into a bit of a brawl with a couple of locals who have something to say about Harry’s expression (big mistake, she’s a queen who can hold her own) so Harry takes Louis back to his place where he bandages them up and they continue their party into the sunrise.

When Louis heads back to his van in the morning, boxer briefs missing and a draft coming through the large hole in the shoulder of his t-shirt, he thinks maybe Harry might be worth sticking around in this town for a little bit longer.

💜 I Hope We Never Change by @hellolovers13 [E, 12k]

“I just wanted to try how it feels.”

“The clothes?” Niall asked.

Harry nodded. “Is that, that's too weird right, I shouldn't-”

“Hey, stop it. I told you already, it's not weird. It's just how you feel. That's okay. You can try whatever you want, okay. And you can always, always talk to me. Remember that.”

or Harry is confused about everything, so is Louis.

At least they have Niall.

💜 People just gotta have fun by korichiro [E, 11k]

Louis is insecure about his gender indentity. A coming-out story of sorts.

💜 It's Thursday. Let's Get (un)Dressed. by @bananaheathen [E, 9k]

When Louis is peer-pressured into downloading TikTok over the holidays, he fully expects to hate it. And he does hate it. All of it. Well... except for aspiring OOTD influencer, @harrystyles.

💜 but if you really hold me tight by loulicate / @loulicate-recs [NR, 8k]

In which Harry just needs warm cookies, couple sweaters and a certain pretty boy to save this year's Christmas.

💜 little black dress (it's all right) by istajmaal [E, 8k]

harry is a girl sometimes. louis loves her all the time.

💜 and she sleeps in his bed by yourdelicatepov / @harrysmaison [M, 7k]

Never in his life had Louis ever thought about his gender. He’d never really given a thought of who he was and what he wanted to be, as an individual. Being gay was different, to him it felt different than this. The flamboyance was expected, and accepted. He owned it, owned the fact that he was flamboyant. Exuberant. A bit too stylish. Different. Of course, there was no denying that. But when it came to his own gender, he’d always thought he was just one of the lads. Or well, he definitely used to think that until Harry painted his nails and then called him ‘pretty’.

💜 Here's to Elysium by sitandadmire / @louistomlionson [T, 5k]

It's 2045. Dedicated Gunters and IOI Sixers are desperate to find Halliday's Easter egg inside the extraordinary virtual game called the OASIS. Through their attempts to win the Copper Key, the first of three keys, two avatars become closer than they ever expected.

Or: A 1D x Ready Player One Fusion feat. Lara Croft!Harry.

💜 She Feels So Good by zedi [E, 4k]

Louis knows that voice. Harry’s used that voice in his ear more times than Louis can count, said such sweet, naughty things while popping a hip out and pressing up against Louis. All while wrapping the words in that voice. That’s the voice that comes out when Harry’s in a skirt, nails done and gestures soft and flirty. That’s the voice Louis is a sucker for every time, even now when it’s coming from a prerecorded segment playing off a monitor.

That’s Louis’ good girl.

💜 Your Gift Is Wasted On Me by 5secsoflarry [G, 4k]

"We will have a baby soon darling. Remember, we plan on finding a surrogate after Christmas..."

Louis knows the words are of little comfort but he does not know what else to say.

OR Harry wants a baby really bad so they use a surrogate and well, after a few years one baby turns into six...

💜 Exhilarator by 28sunflowers / @vintageumbroshirt [G, 3k]

Lou had always felt a little bit different from his peers. It had been a confusing and frustrating affair, to grow up without feeling like he belonged to one role or another. He had had to fight small wars almost everyday, both within himself and against the world.

But then, on the first day of college, a green eyed boy gives him an encouraging smile from across the room and it’s all Louis needs to stand taller and prouder amidst a class full of strangers.

💜 kiss me with adventure 'til i forget my name by orphan_account [NR, 3k]

“Wow,” Louis says softly, stunned. “You look…”

Vibrant, luminescent, glowing, unreal, magnificent, exuberant, fucking fuckable.

or where Louis both loves and hates her job.

💜 And Everything In Between by fanshae [T, 2k]

The first day Harry wears a skirt to school Louis gets in two fist fights and has to borrow Harry's concealer for his busted knuckles. It was more than worth the dention but Louis lets Harry brush his lips over the scraped skin anyway.

💜 Ready For Anything by wannabebestseller [G, 1k]

Harry is genderfluid and Louis is the most supportive husband anyone could ever ask for. 

💜 Cherry Blossom (You are Mine) by braveromantic [NR, 1k]

Happiness can be found in the most surprising of places. For H, happiness is a queer bar in the middle of her college town, with a blue-eyed beauty and an energy drink she should have ordered more of.

[musclesandhammering]

Actually still seeing people say stuff like “maybe the adlockers & sherlollies were right about sherlock being hetero-“

BOY. When did we say that? Who the hell is saying that?? Cause from where this adlocker’s sitting, sherlock is the most bisexual character on the show. He’s queer as hell. Man’s straight as a slinky. As bi as a bicycle.

…….Oh but I forgot that doesn’t actually count, because the only queer identities that are queer enough to count in their minds are gay men they can ship with other men without female interference. Right. My bad. Silly me thinking women had any place in the equation.

[twofoursixohjuan]

what do your ocs look like?

ohoho the Descriptors! bearing in mind that these guys are all, ultimately, D&D character concepts:

Aspen was specifically designed to avoid the "slinky seductive lady tiefling" thing. She's just shy of 6' tall and built like a rower (buff), and keeps her hair in as short a crop as she can get around her horns, which start around her hairline and curve back along the line of her skull before taking a quick flick up at the back of her head. She has bright red skin and darker hair and eyes, and quite a mobile, cheerful face with a heavy jaw and eyebrows. She has a long, thick tail that tapers to a barbed point.

Talven is, in essence, a pretty boy. He's a little shorter than Aspen and has light olive skin and light brown hair that he usually wears in a half-up-half-down style. He's built like a dancer, which he is on occasion, and he has an attractive, expressive face with wide cheekbones and sharp grey eyes. His hands are long and narrow and he's careful to keep the nails short. He tends towards brightly coloured clothing and wears a small gold ring in each ear.

Hildebrandt is a little below average height for a dwarf, about 4'4, which does not stop the greatsword being her weapon of choice. She has a very curly ginger beard that she wears in decorative braids (which are usually frizzed loose a little) and a lot of curly hair that she keeps in a high ponytail. She has fair skin with a tendency to freckle and steady blue eyes, and her face gives the impression of being honest and trustworthy — she's a paladin and it's very obvious — but also of a wide streak of chaos. She likes a good meal, a good drink and a good fight, and she looks it.

Athan is also slightly shorter than average, and gives the impression of being a few dinners short of a healthy weight. He has dark skin, very dark eyes and thick black hair that's usually pulled back in a low braid or ponytail under a lopsided red bandanna. His face is narrow and fine-boned, and he has many old scars over his arms and torso, along with one angling down his right cheek to his jaw. His right ear is pointed, with a slight nick near the top, and the left has been carved into a misshapen curve. This one is always tucked under the bandanna.

Tippet is very small, not much over five feet, but her semi-vertical shock of red hair adds at least a couple of inches. She's a little more muscular than you'd expect when looking at her, especially around the legs, and has light skin and bright, sparkling green eyes. She wears green jewelled studs in both ears. Her face is very open, with a wide mouth and pointed chin. She tends to wear white clothes, usually with a brightly coloured belt. Her hands are calloused and a couple of her fingers are crooked, and though they've been broken and not healed quite straight.

Seriously, thanks for this one! Great opportunity to get the designs all straightened out.

[artemispanthar]

I don't think I ever posted about this dream I had a few months back that was straight-up a creepypasta story conjured by my subconscious. It's nothing too wild but it's stuck with me. It went like this:

In the dream, it was like 10+ years ago when my little sister was still little and I lived in the house I lived in at that time. We were watching some cartoon on Nickelodeon and towards the end there was a little banner at the bottom that read "Up Next: Worried & Anxious" and I was like, hm, what a strange name for a show and decided to check it out.

So the show comes on and it's a sort of puppet/muppet style show like Sesame Street or Bear in the Big Blue House. It opens in a room with bright colored walls and cartoonishly proportioned furniture. The back wall is a big sliding glass door and outside is a colorful drawing of a sunny day. Bright, generically happy music is playing

There were two kids who looked maybe 12 years old standing in the middle of the room with identical big mascot-type heads that looked like cartoon child heads with curly hair. The heads looked like they were made of stone (kind of jagged) but painted so they were colorful. For the mouth was a cut out for the kids' in the costumes faces. The kids' faces were off-center like they were trying to pull the mascot heads off but weren't able to and they both looked distressed.

The camera focuses on one of them and a voiceover (the sort of classic cartoon little boy obviously voiced by an adult woman voice) says "I'm Worried!" and then the camera switches to the other kid and a different voiceover (noticably the same VA slightly changing her voice) says "And I'm Anxious!"

Frantic discordant music starts playing and the camera zooms to look out the sliding glass door and it cuts to another scene where it's like, the foreground is grass with a dirt path and it's rotating backward while the sunny sky background scrolls up to give the illusion of motion. A garishly red, pointy puppet is jerkily wobbling as though it's walking up the road. It kind of looked like a jinjo from Banjo-Kazooie with a bunch of red springs sticking out of its body (like... have you ever stretched out a metal Slinky? The springs looked kind of like pieces of stretched metal slinkys)

The camera slowly zooms on the puppet and I get the feeling the puppet is approaching the house and that that is really really bad.

And then I woke up so I have no idea what would've happened if the red puppet ever made it to the house.

Anyway, I had this dream months ago but I still think about it. I kinda think it would make for a neat analog horror short

[savage-kult-of-gorthaur]

"CHECK YOUR HEAD" WILL ASTONISH EACH AND EVERY CONTEMPORARY MUSIC FAN."

PIC INFO: Spotlight on a press kit and/or promo record advert for American alternative hip-hop group the BEASTIE BOYS then upcoming 3rd studio album, "Check Your Head," jointly released under the Capitol Records/Grand Royal labels in spring 1992.

OVERVIEW: ""Check Your Head," the new record from rap's most innovative trio, will be released April 13th. The follow-up to the BEASTIE BOYS acknowledged masterpiece "Paul's Boutique," "Check Your Head" will astonish each and every contemporary music fan. First off, group members Mike D., MCA, and Ad-Rock have returned to their musical roots -- 70% of the album's music, a stunning array of styles including Funkadelicized fuzz bass riffs, slinky guitar-propelled reggae, and straight-up hardcore punk, is played by the Beasties, seamlessly blended with off-the-wall sampled tidbits. Looping their own dusted-out riffs, the Beastie Boys have taken sampling to its logical conclusion. The self-produced Check Your Head's exploitation of new and old music sources could well be the most radical to date.

"Apart from three diverse instrumentals ("Pow," "Groove Holmes," and "In 3's") that make up the 20 song set, the group gets on the mic to flaunt superior rhyming skills, frantic scratching, and the fattest keyboards this side of Jimmy Smith. Such old-school flavored jams as "Pass The Mic," "Finger Lickin'," and "What'cha Want" shred in an entirely new way, suggesting some unexplored netherland between The Minutemen and Spoonie G; "Time For Livin'," a hardcore punk tune harkening back to the group's Lower End Side origins, sounds as fresh as the Boys' whisper-sung vocals on "Mark On The Bus," the rootsy "Lighten Up," and the acid-soaked "Something's Got To Give." Keep an eye out for the obligatory Biz Markie cameo, "The Biz vs. The Nuge." Each song on "Check Your Head" speaks volumes. Loudly."

-- "CHECK YOUR HEAD" album press kit, Capitol/Grand Royal Records, January 1992

Source: www.hiphopnostalgia.com/2017/01/beastie-boys-check-your-head-press-kit.html.

[j-nor]

[id: three blue pencil sketches of snow queen designs: cold and refined in long robes with poofy sleeves, all long lines; buried in massively oversized fur and fine cloth, with a staff and hat shaped like the top of an Egyptian column; blue skinned and buff in a sleeveless mermaid dress.

Two in pastels on black of a woman with blue skin, blue lips, and blue teardrop shaped hair sticking up with side bangs, in a dress with spiky feathers around the collar and hem. In the first she is singing dramatically, mouth huge, arms flung wide, and slightly crouched. In the second, she is hugging herself while singing softer.

Then two digital pieces made of flat blocks of color. In the first, next to Anna (pretty much her movie design) a superhumanly tall woman (like her hips would be at Anna’s face level is she were standing straight), thin and angular, crouches down to put her hand under Anna’s chin. She has blue skin and lips like the last one, but her hair is covered with a white cap on which a spiky crown is perched, and is wearing blue starburst earrings, silver elbow-length gloves over her slinky white dress, and a silver living ermine is perched around her shoulders. The next digital pieces is curvy and silver, with a tightly cinched waist and a slit up her sparkling silver long trailing dress though which she is sticking her elegant heeled blue leg (there is no difference between the shoe and her leg). Her skin is also blue with blue lips, but her hair is silver, swept sideways in a teardrop shape, and she is laughing with her eyes squeezed closed from the force of it. Loops of silvery ice crystals like jewels hang from her sleeves, proofed at the shoulder slightly, and her neckline is scalloped and punching.

The final piece of concept art is drawn in a 101 Dalmatians style. Anna, in large hat and single braid but final face, leans back warily from the queen, who is leaning back luxuriously with her eyes closed as she pets her furs, which contain live white ferrets among them, who are peeking out curiously. She has the blue hair and lips of previous designs, as well as the white cap, but hers is crowned with large flexible looking branches of a snowflake.

Contrasted is an official promotional picture of Elsa.]/end id.

[id: scenes from said movie. In the first, a blonde girl in a red dress with white trim down the center like Santa Claus, starts to curl in on herself, looking anxious, while an angry looking girl with short black hair sits next to her. In the next two pictures, the blonde girl in red, now with a matching hood pulled up, rides a huge reindeer significantly taller than her at the shoulder through the snow. An old woman with silver hair trailing out of her fur-lined hood prepares a fish next to a roaring fire in a stone fireplace with a large pot hanging in it. The Snow Queen, dressed in a simple white dress and wearing an elegant tiered crown, sits implacably on a massive throne amid a crystal palace of ice. The angry girl from before, her feet bare and a knife at her waist, sits on a pile of blankets looking stern as her shadow is cast large on the wall behind her. An old woman in boots sits below the tiny blonde girl in red and rests a hand on her knee in comfort. The same woman sitting and looking grim, with her own large shadow behind her.

A close-up of the Snow Queen’s blue face, eyebrows lifted, as she sits on her throne. Her crown angles up like a tall trapezoid for the first level, and covers her ears and the back of her head as well. An angry blond boy, his own skin starting to turn blue, turns around angrily from where he is working on a three-d puzzle made of ice while perched on massive icy steps. The blonde girl, now barefoot and in a red skirt, white blouse, and blue shawl, walks hesitantly on the icy floor between massive ice crystals. A closer look at her face as she anxiously holds her hands in front of her chest.]/end id.

[id: screenshot of a Wikipedia article titled: “History of Russian animation,” The text of the article reads: “The history of Russian animation is the visual art form produced by Russian animation makers. As most of Russia's production of animation for cinema and television were created during Soviet times, it may also be referred to some extent as the history of Soviet animation. It remains a nearly unexplored field in film theory and history outside Russia.”]/end id.

Most of this description was copy pasted from @awlwren’s image ID on an earlier version of this post, I hope it’s ok that I’ve reused it on this reblog chain

disney concept art: the most beautiful dynamic original thing i have ever seen

disney finished project: rubber same face minimalism regurgitated plots 

[ikea-dollies]

Animals.

words: 2.6k~ cw: mafia and other matters of the sort (drugs, alcohol, gambling, etc.), smut smut smut, piv (unprotected), the worst relationship in the world (but fr this time), toxicity, hate, enemies to fuck buddies, BIGGGG age gap (25&50) a/n: You know me. This is not Proofread.

Fates cross and the two worst people to have ever laid foot in New York City are suddenly tangled in each other's webs...

(Very inspired by Animals by Maroon 5)

The social club looked like it could be taken out straight from the 1920s: wood panneling all over the walls, leather chairs, sofas and armchairs....

A large bar counter with two impeccably dressed bartenders behind them, in suits and bowties, preparing cocktails and drinks poured nearly straight from the expensive thousand-dollars-worth liquor bottles.

A jazz band playing in the corner stage, a few blackjack and roulette tables in the further back of the room, elite only, away from prying eyes.

The bar takes cards, for everything else, it's live cash or checks. And people make sure to play like they intend on losing their entire fortune. It's more fun that way.

Champagne coupes, whiskey tumblers, cigars aplenty... Maybe even a bit of cocaine, for the more adventurous ones... And, of course, escorts galore.

Men in suits lounging all around, young women in slinky dresses perching on their knees, greedy male hands smoothing over the smalls of their backs, the crooks of their waists, around the soft skin of their thighs, their arms, their necks, their hair.

Protection details and henchmen were left at the door, like dogs tied on a pole outside the bodega in the corner. Guns and knives are checked with the bags and coats. Neutral territory, they call it.

Incardo Lozada Buffonge sits in a leather couch in the corner, a pretty blonde woman sitting on his lap. She's foreign, speaks little English, smiles too much, fidgets with his tie and lets him grope her to his will.

His dark hair is slicked back, his suit, Armani, white on white, polished shoes reflecting the yellow tones of the vintage lamps and candelabras that light the space in warm tones.

To his right, Amarion Bindo Gerardo, his second-in-command, black on black, matching the boss, but the complete opposite of him. They talk in hushed whispers, drinking and looking around, taking note of adversaries, rivals, acquaintances and the rare ally.

The room isn't too full, but the event is still a real who's who of the underground business. Mob bosses, corrupt politicians, military leaders and law agents, cartel bosses, Yakuza, Triad, Bratva... Anyone that has stakes in the crime syndicates of New York City is present.

Incardo's eyes find their way across the room to the blackjack table. From where he's sitting, he can see her from the side. Sitting dead center, across from the card dealer, arms resting on the edge, holding her set of cards.

Long, sleek brown hair, tied back into a half-up, half-down hairstyle, long slender arms, longer slender legs, a tan that is, in no way, artificial, wearing an off-white dress, corsetted up top but loose around the legs, with a slit that gives a tantalizing view of her thigh.

She's young. He wouldn't put her a day over 25. And she's beautiful. Beautiful enough for him to want. Same with any other young, beautiful woman he sets his eyes on. Good for a night or two and never again.

But she's not like the escorts around the room, which are free for use by any of the men who want them. No, that woman... She carries he sophistication of a woman who was raised with money and not meant to entertain the men around her, like the others, poor things, much akin to a pig in a dress.

She's in the big boy leagues. If nothing else, he could tell from her outfit, a dress that has to have cost thousands of dollars, gold jewelry and make-up a plenty... But there's also the fact she has her own advisor standing behind her, one he recognized from many of these events in the past, though the name escapes him.

"That one-" Incardo murmurs and uses his chin to gesture toward her vaguely, bringing his glass of red wine up to his mouth.

Amarion glances over to the woman Incardo pointed out. "That's... Tony DeLuca's daughter, I believe."

"Ah." Incardo tuts in acknowledgment and nods his head. "Sure doesn't look it."

"Takes after her mother." Amarion replies as he looks between the brunette and Incardo. "Not a concern for us. Have no business to conduct with them. She's just here representing her old man."

"Hm..." Incardo murmurs and nods, pondering the sight of the pretty woman that kept playing Blackjack with the men around her. Japanese on one side, Russian on the other, and another Italian, from a rival family, further down the table.

He noticed how her eyes, surrounded by sparkly make-up, green and bright, shifty and vixen-like moved about the table, noting everyone's expressions, noting the dealer's movements... Watched everyone receive their new cards.

And then she suddenly bets big, pushing her own pile of chips forward, straightening her back, her eyes catching the other men's... None of them backed out. They never did...

So, as they flipped the cards over and she showed her hand, the men around the table immediately groaned and 'tsked'. "Pleasure doing business with you, gentlemen." She announced. "Better luck next time, ah?" She teased them and smiled broadly.

Then, she got up and leaned forward, wrapping her slender arms around the stacks of chips and bringing them toward her seat, a satisfied, smug smirk on her plump, shiny lips.

She turned to her consigliere, an older man with grey hair that he'd seen accompany her father and her brothers to events like this before, and gestured vaguely for him to keep her chips.

Then, she slipped out of her stool and crossed the room toward the bar. Incardo saw his opportunity in it. He kept looking at her, eyes locked on her, her body, her smooth skin, her polished red-bottom heels...

Once she turned away from the bar with a drink in hand, he was surprised to find her with a couple of lowball glasses with a yellow-ish liquid in it. Amaretto, most likely, if he knew his Italian alcohol well.

She returned to her consigliere and offered one of the drinks to him, who gave her an almost paternal look, as if implying 'Are you trying to get me drunk?'. She returned an impish smile, which caused the man to sigh and take it, before thanking her with a reverential nod of his head.

The consigliere's brown eyes then slid over to Incardo, finding him sitting and staring at them. At her. Leaning his head down, he spoke softly to the young mafia princess and she turned to look over her bare shoulder at him.

She raised her drink in an act of greeting and cheers, from a distance, and he returned the gesture with his own glass of wine. He watched her take a sip of her drink, eyes still locked on him, from the corner of her eye.

After he watched her take her drink, Incardo glanced at the blonde currently on his lap and waved her off. And then, with his newly freed hand he beckoned the young DeLuca girl closer.

The brunette nodded and approached, coming to stand across from him, her pointy louboutin pumps barely an inch away from his own polished dress shoes.

He sits with his thighs parted in a position of pure and absolute power, a smirk on his lips, tugging his left corner upward as he gives a once over, pleased that the pretty thing is submissive enough to come when called, like a good pup.

Incardo raises his hand, presenting the back of it and his fingers to her, a silent demand for her to show reverence and respect. 'Kiss my hand, little one, show everyone that although you're pretending to be a big girl, you're playing second fiddle to us all, especially me'.

Her green hued eyes slide down from his face, across his arm and down to the hand he was presenting to him. A thick gold ring with a large octagon cut purple musgravite embedded in the middle.

She recognized it for what it was. Nothing but a stupid test, a ball measuring contest, if you will, trying to see who had the biggest pair. Even if she couldn't see it, she could feel all eyes on the two of them. And, oh, Gianna was about to make him look bad.

She handed her drink over to her consigliere, then, took Incardo's hand carefully with both of hers, with all the reverence in the world as she raised it toward her mouth, her eyes locked on his brown ones, eyebrows set down over her eyelids, intense and bold...

But then, before his hand was even within range to kiss his ring, she lifted it, like she was about to perform a little twirl for him under his outstretched arm, and used it as a crutch to sit down beside him, leaning back on the couch, crossing her legs, her foot brushing against one of his pant legs.

Everyone else also watching seems to freeze in shock, the room having suddenly gone silent to witness the power play performed by her, happening live before them.

Incardo watched her take her seat boldly, without so much as a greeting, let alone an invitation, then, the corner of his lip rose higher, a sadistic smirk took over his mouth and he licked his lips, amused by the little girl beside him.

Incardo waves off his second-in-command from the armchair beside them, a silent dismissal, to be alone with her... Her consigliere also makes himself scarce, but not before returning her drink glass to her. That drives everyone else in the room to go back to their previous conversations.

"You're either bold or stupid, Ms. DeLuca." The man tells her, murmuring near her ear, an arm already snaking to wrap around the small of her back, coming to rest on the side of her waist, already digging in.

Gianna leans into him and dips her head to the side, nearly setting it on his shoulder, so she can look him in the eyes properly. "Not stupid in any way, I guarantee you, Mr. Lozada." She murmurs in reply, eyes sparkling in the low light, as she takes a sip of her amaretto sour.

"I know... Saw that little play of yours in the blackjack table... Counting cards is illegal, don't you know?" He teases her, almost like he's poking about in her mind, trying to see what makes her tick, what might embarrass her or upset her, and give him control.

"I wasn't counting cards... I'm just very observant... and good at guessing." Gianna lies as she looks right into his eyes, not even flinching or trembling or hesitating, a smug smirk on her plump lips.

"Just like I guessed you'd appreciate me not being a little sheep for you." She slid her free hand over his thigh, before she slid it up over his forearm, down his wrist, and onto his hand, her perfectly-manicured fingernail grazing his musgravite ring.

"So you're just a gambler, are you, doll?" Incardo teases, his hand sliding down from her waist, grazing her hip and onto her thigh, feeling the warmth of her skin through the slit in the cream-colored skirt of her dress.

"Could say that..." Gianna murmurs as she takes a sip of her drink again, biting the straw with a mischievous glint in her eye.

"How about a wager then, just the two of us?" Incardo teases her, his fingers digging onto the skin of her thigh, causing her to shiver ever so slightly.

"What would this wager of yours..." She replies as she rolls over toward him ever so slightly, her leg crossing over his thigh, wrapped around him like a snake coiling around its prey, her heeled foot rubbing against the inside of his white suit leg. "entail exactly?"

Incardo swallowed down the last sip of his red wine while pulling the young woman closer to his robust chest, her breasts pressing against the side panel of his blazer as he squeezes her closer.

"Just a moment of your time... I'd like to prove how stupid I can make a pretty, young thing like you feel and act." He taunts her, brown eyes locked on her beautiful green ones.

"Oh... Mr. Lozada..." She teases. "No man can make me stupid... But you're welcome to try... It'll be a pleasure to see you fail." She chuckles.

She was bold, confident, maybe too much so. Perhaps it was hubris from her young age, and lack of experience, Incardo was sure of.

But the smug smirk on her lips and the certainty on her voice was irresistible... especially when he knew he could have her mewl and croon under his touch whenever he wanted to.

"I never fail at anything, doll." He murmurs in reply.

"Guess you're going to start now."

"It's almost... adorable how sure you are of that, doll... I'll let you continue being delusional, it suits you..."

Gianna's plump lips simply upturned into an bold, broad smile, flashing him her pearly whites, her canines a bit too pointy... There was a mischievous glint in her green eyes... Like a cat that ate the canary.

Then, she untangled herself from his embrace and got up, but not before purposefully and slowly spilling her drink all the way down the front of his 3-piece suit, staining it with the bright yellow liquid.

He didn't react, he tried not to, at least, though his eyes told her directly that she was going to be taught a lesson sooner rather than later...

But she purposefully kissed the air at him and then turned and strutted off, disappearing beyond the doors leading to the large penthouse balcony outside.

And, for the first time in his life, Incardo got up from his seat and gave chase.

That's how they ended up tangled in each other. Each other's web, each other's arms, each other's beds.

As the sun set outside, bathing the balcony in hues of orange, shining off her dress, off her make-up, off their polished shoes...

Her legs hooked on each of his forearms, spread as wide as possible to allow his hip to fit between them, her arms wrapped around the back of his neck, fingers digging into his scalp amidst his long black hair...

She moaned and whined, her head rubbing back on the ivy-covered trellis wall that decorated the patio, her back definitely getting marks of the diamond-shaped wooden trellis behind her.

His fingers dug into the meat of her ass, squeezing and holding her up in his arms, his dick bullying into her slick, greedy cunt with each snap of his hips.

Incardo was still perfectly composed, his tie in place, his vest buttoned, although the blazer wasn't, his pants still fastened by the belt around his hip...

Were it not for the way he was grunting and huffing from a mix of pleasure and the mix of stamina + physical strength to continue holding her, nobody would guess he was even having primal sex with a girl half his age.

Meanwhile, he was definitely making a mess of her, Gianna's hair was wild, her lips parted, her eyes heavy and hooded, her dress rolled up as far as can go, her long, tan legs fully on display for anyone who looked their way...

But people in this world knew better than to pry.

So what if the 25-year-old daughter of Tony DeLuca, the biggest mobster in Jersey was currently being fucked silly by the 50-year-old boss of the empire left behind after Adalardo Dakota Buffonge was murdered?

So what if, before then, she proceeded to emasculate him in front of his peers by refusing to greet him with respect, and by spilling a drink down the front of his suit?

So what if, from here on out, he starts to play with her and her family's business, until she agrees to play nice for him and be the little doll, the little toy, he wants to play with?

So what if, no matter how much he tries, she never does become what he wants?

That doesn't concern anyone but the two of them.

[lizzygrantarchives]

Repeat, June 2010

“You might recognise Lana Del Rey already... perhaps from an old movie somewhere, but look closer and you might not. Lana Del Rey is a young singer weaving cinematic dark pop for the 21st Century – music wrapped in smoky, sultry and glamorous overtones. Born in the rural town of Lake Placid, New York, Lana then relocated to a series of places: Alabama, New Jersey and New York City, but now spends most of her time in London. No matter where in the world Lana is, her love of film noir, Italian landscapes, big churches, roller coasters and the memory of faded stars like Bette Davis, Kurt Cobain, Nina Simone and Elvis are the chorus line for her music, and her love of New York is her heartbeat.” OFFICIAL PRESS RELEASE

“Lizzy Grant’s lyrical connotations are at once sexy and sinister, while her vocal delivery carries a slinky, determined innocence straight from the trailer park, supported by throwback grooves evocative of Nancy Sinatra, with a jazz attitude. Her visual messages are dangerously alluring. You won’t be able to leave her songs without assigning your own personal meaning.” THE SMUDGE

Hawaiian, glam and surf noir, are just a few of the labels that Lana Del Rey (real name Lizzy Grant) has used to encapsulate her delectable, hypnotising and nostalgic songs, that are impeccable in both composition and performance! Called the “unofficial sweetheart of rock and roll” by one journalist, in late 2008 she released her debut EP, Kill Kill, followed by her self-titled debut LP in February 2009 on the NYC based label, 5 Points Records, exclusively through iTunes in the USA – both of which were produced by David Kahne (Paul McCartney, The Strokes, Regina Spektor). And with music, vocals and lyrics that are a match made in heaven, the record sounds “black and white, famous, like Coney Island and like a sad party,” as Lana poetically put it.

In an interview with The Huffington Post, when quizzed about her infatuation with Coney Island, Lana – who at one time lived in a New Jersey trailer park – replied: “All the good stuff is real but isn’t, myself included. Coney Island is a place people go to escape, but whatever you choose to be your reality is your reality. So, in a way it’s just as real as anything else. I mainly let my imagination be my reality. Fantasy is my reality. I never saw Coney Island when it had all its big attractions, but there was something desperate about the boardwalk, and I related. There was no end in sight to it, and there were people in bars you didn’t know were there. Maybe the amusement park was the touchstone because I have such a history with cheap thrills. I like things that go fast, things with bright colors, things that taste good. At Coney Island, you can get a Coca-Cola, ride the roller coaster and watch everybody.”

Of her other inspirations, the songstress declared: “Mark Ryden’s pictures drive me crazy, and Vegas makes me shine. Daytona and the Jersey Shore just kill me. Yes. Even pictures of other performers do it for me. I knew Elvis’ songs would be the soundtrack to my life as soon as I laid eyes on his photograph. I know when I love something as soon as I see it. Then, I write about it. Speaking of Elvis, it’s unfair not to mention The Beach Boys and The Flamingos as my other constant companions.”

With smouldering good looks and a sumptuous voice / sound that will dig into your soul – which should soon see her catapulted into stardom – it’s time you sampled the delights of Lana Del Rey and got to know her a little bit better, as she’s truly an artist to fall in love with who harks back to music’s golden age…

For music fans who may not yet know much about you, could you give us some background information on your musical past / tell us about when your love of music first began?

Well, I was the cantor in my church choir when I was younger and I was in choirs all throughout high school. I didn't listen to much popular music when I grew up but I did watch a lot of movies, and I was always writing music. When I got into high school I listened to a lot of rap and techno and eventually found different types of music that I loved like Elvis and Van Halen. My teacher in high school, Mr. Campbell, taught me who all the greats were in every genre and eventually I came to know what good music was.

Was it a conscious decision to be a solo artist, and where does your stage name Lana Del Rey come from / why did you choose to use this instead of your real name?

No. I wanted to be a band but the label I was with and the team I had around me absolutely wanted me to be a solo artist. Lana Del Rey came from a series of managers and lawyers over the last 5 years who wanted a name that they thought better fit the sound of the music. My music was always kind of cinematic so they wanted a name that reflected the glamour of the sound.

Turning old-school for a moment, if you were to make a Mixtape for me, including one of your own songs, what would you put on there + title the compilation?

It would be called 'Sex on Ice' and I'd probably put Gangsters Paradise on there… 2. Flamingos 'I Only Have Eyes For You' 3. Britney Spears 'Hit Me Baby One More Time' 4. The Godfather Theme 5. Lee Hazlewood & Nancy Sinatra 'Some Velvet Morning' 6. Lana Del Rey 'Hey Lolita Hey' 7. Scarface Theme 8. Ennio Morricone 'Once Upon A Time In The West' 9. Mickey Avalon 'So Rich So Pretty'

Why do you think you are so drawn to vintage ‘50s / ‘60s America?

I don't know if I'm drawn to 50s music, but I'm drawn to the quality of the recordings just as I'm drawn to the quality of the way movies were filmed in that era. There's a feeling of lasting integrity and beauty in most of the 50s music, but I suppose what mostly draws me to that musical era is that there were good singers. Today, anyone can be a singer, but back then, you had to have something special, a shining personality, whether it be good or bad.

At the moment, you’re currently based in London, when and why did you decide to relocate here?

I relocated to London because there were a lot of writers and producers who wanted to work with me. I've written in L.A. and New York, but because what I'm doing is darker and more classic then most American Pop, London is the right place for me to be. They don't expect me to dumb anything down here. They're all about the smart.

When did you first realise that you had such a special voice / how do you take care of it, and is it important to you to keep pushing yourself vocally?

Vocally I never did anything to take care of myself. I'm on the run, I'm always screaming and I eat tons of chocolate and milk, so I shouldn't be able to sing the way I do. Thanks for saying I have SUCH a special voice.

What was the first instrument that you ever owned, and is there anything that you always play when trying-out a new instrument before buying it, or any chords that never fail to fill you with inspiration?

Other than a kazoo I guess the first instrument was a guitar. If I'm looking at a new guitar to buy, I just play one of my songs I've written. But I'm shitty at the guitar so I don't find that much I can do that inspires me musically. I'd rather have Frank try it out for me and play a Van Halen Riff or something.

Do you adhere to any rules when writing and recording, in terms of how a track will sound musically, melodically or rhythmically + is there anyone whose opinions on your songs you value greatly?

Um, I go back and forth sometimes, I'm like Maria Callas, and sometimes I'm like Bob Dylan. Dylan is a 3 take man. I can usually do exactly what I wanna in 3 takes. But sometimes I like to take a long time and piece a lot of different takes together like Maria, especially if I'm working in some kind of operatic bridge.

If you could ask a musical hero anything, who would it be and what would you ask them?

I would ask Elvis if he would kiss me.

Does writing lyrics come naturally to you and is there much revision involved or do you trust your initial instinct + can you tell us about your homemade videos, as for me, visually and thematically, they seem to have been sparked off from your lyrics?

Yeah writing comes naturally to me, I spend most of my time writing and lately I edit everything because I'm working with so many writers. But my first record, even though it took years to write, was very instinctual. Yes indeed I can tell you about my homemade videos, writing songs first – movies next, but the songs first come from memories I have. So then I go online and try to find footage that is the equivalent to my life experience. It's usually super 8 footage that you can tell means a lot to whoever it belongs to. I like to take it, make it mine and mix it with footage from my own actual past. I love making movies, it's my passion. I like it as much as I like singing. The editing is the part that makes the movie special, the timing of the scene changes and use of brief flashes of light or scenery.

As you like metal and because your songs are much softer than this musical genre, from all of the artists / bands that you admire, what are some of your favourite noisy and gentle tracks?

Um, well Nirvana is my first love. I was in love with Kurt and the band as soon as I heard them. In terms of softer songs I like, the flamingos, a beautiful doo wop band who sounds like heaven.

You’re currently in the studio working on your new album, so will this be a continuation or an evolution from your debut long player?

Well at this point, I've written so many songs that I don't know if I'm regressing or evolving. But I do the same thing I've always done – I write about what I know and I try and find the most beautiful melodies I can.

I read that you “live in your songs,” so what does it mean to you to play your songs live and have there been many memorable shows for you to date?

I do live in my songs, and so I love singing them at shows or at home alone. The shows all just blend into the rest of my life since I sing all day long. But they are always memorable since I have so many weird and sexy people who come to say hello. It's always a freak show and I enjoy every show.

If you had to go shopping for someone and buy a record, a book and a film – what would they be and why?

I would buy the same things for anyone. I think everyone should have the book "Think and Grow Rich" by Napoleon Hill. The movie "Don't Look Back" by D.A. Pennebaker, and for a record, I would get "Agnus Dei" composed by Samuel Barber.

Lastly, chips or cream buns?

I would truthfully do both. I'm an American girl and I'm the junk food queen. I still have a banana split almost every morning and I have french fries for dinner. I have the same tastes that I did when I was a little girl.

Originally published on repeatfanzine.co.uk with the headline Lana Del Rey On Her Past, Present & Future…