#melody ln

[kordeliiius]

the VLN soundtrack is so underrated and im so sad it never got a widespread release. it's more melodic and dare i say "traditional" than the other games' music, similar to an rpgmaker soundtrack, which is fine because the game's aesthetic wouldn't gel as well with lilja's ambient or harsh creations. regardless there's no shortage of the typical percussion and environmental samples we all know and love, and it weaves into the compositions beautifully alongside an influx of piano, organ, and orchestration

[greynatomy]

where were you in the morning? - five

alessia russo x reader

this was very rushed but it’s been in the drafts so decided to just give it an ending. last part of this mini series.

previous

———

You were getting some final touches done to your in ear packs when the stage manager knocked on the dressing room door.

“You’re on in five, Y/LN.”

You nod, turning to your manager.

“Ready?”

“Ready.”

Walking towards the stage, shaking out your nerves, you wait for your cue.

“Give it up for Y/N Y/LN!”

Walking towards the piano, you take your seat as the spotlight shines on you. Your fingers dance on the keys, playing the melody of the song.

Chestnuts roasting on an open fire Jack frost nipping at your nose Yuletide carols being sung by a choir And folks dressed up like Eskimos

Your eyes are closed, not wanting to look at the audience, afraid that you’d mess up.

Everybody knows a turkey and some mistletoe Tiny tots with their eyes all aglow Will find it hard to sleep tonight

They know that Santa’s on his way He's loaded lots of toys and goodies on his sleigh And every mother's child is gonna spy To see if reindeers really know how to fly

Opening your eyes, you look out to the crowd, spotlights scanning the audience when your eyes lock onto a familiar figure — the girl who’s been stuck on your mind for months.

Unable to look away, you finished the rest of the song eyes locked in her. Hushed whispers spread amongst the audience as you have not looks away from where she stood. You thought she looked beautiful.

Finally able to look away, you sing the last notes. With a nod of acknowledgment to Alessia, you exit the stage, feeling as if you could breath again.

“You did good.” Alina gives you a pat on the back. Giving her a smile, you go back into the green room to remove the wires from your body. “Go out there and mingle for a bit.”

Nodding, you grab your phone and make your way out to the party. People come up to you left and right, some friends, many of them fans asking about new music and a possible tour, only giving them smiles and vague answers.

An hour of nonstop conversations and interactions, you feel a bit overwhelmed. Excusing yourself from the conversation about something you weren’t paying attention to, you make your way out to the balcony.

Not even a minute later, you hear the door open and close. Closing your eyes in annoyance, you turn to the person to tell them you just wanted a bit of peace when you see who walked through the door.

“Alessia.”

Her lips form a straight line, seeming to not know what to say.

“Y/N. Hi.”

You were frozen, not expecting her to follow you out here.

“Seem’s like we have a thing with meeting up outside of parties.”

“Seem’s like we do.” After a moment of silence and staring, Alessia places herself next to you. “I heard your new album.”

“You did?”

“Yeah, some of my friends are huge fans apparently and that’s how I made the connection that you were, well, you.” She shrugs.

“Yeah… I was hoping you’d have reached out when it came out.”

“Trust me, I wanted to. So bad. But I chickened out.”

“Why?”

“Cause I’ve never slept with someone after knowing them barely a couple of hours and freaked out. I didn’t know if you’d want to see me again, which is stupid now that I think about it cause you write this whole song about me basically ghosting you and how you wished I left my number.”

“Hey, hey. You’re okay. Don’t spiral. No need for that.” You pull her into you, wrapping her up in a tight embrace. “Maybe we should start over? Is that something you want?”

“Yes, please.”

“Well, then.” You step back, holding a hand out. “Hey, I was just over there and saw you and couldn’t help but introduce myself. I’m Y/N.”

“It’s nice to meet you Y/N. Name’s Alessia.” She takes your hand into her’s, shaking it gently.

“Say, Alessia, do you maybe, want to get out of here?”

“I’d love to.”

[yourlittlebunnyy]

when you know, you know -azriel x reader

main masterlist - azriel masterlist

summary: You're a Winter Court singer, and you perform at Rita's at Winter Solstice. Azriel immediately falls in love with your voice.

warnings: fluff!!

wc: 1.3k

You are a singer in the Winter Court and have just begun to make your name known outside your Court. When a formal invitation came to you from the High Lords of the Court of Night, requesting your presence at an event for The Winter Solstice, which is apparently the High Lady's birthday, you could not say no.

What you didn't know was that it would turn your life around entirely.

During the horseback ride you had a chance to organize a small lineup, intimidated by the opinion of the residents of another Court.

Feyre reassured you: the event would be held in Velaris, and that was all the more reason to accept. You have longed to see the city since it was revealed to the whole world because of the war.

The trip took a whole week, and when you arrive in the City of Artists, despite your tiredness, you cannot help but smile at such beauty. Some locals recognize you and stop to have a word with you on the way to the small tavern where you would be staying, the same one in which you will be performing tonight.

The owner of the local inn guides you to your room, and as soon as you lean on the bed, your eyes close.

You are late. You're terribly late. You've been a fool, you've gotten sleepy, and now you have ten minutes left to get ready. You can't look like that during your first performance in the Court of Night, especially not in front of the High Lords, and not on Feyre's birthday.

You slip into your dress hopping. A beautiful dress that you have had custom-made just for this occasion. It is a dress typical of your Court, made of expensive fabrics that keep you warm without sacrificing showing a little skin. It matches the color of your eyes, making them shine.

You apply some kajal in your eyes and some red lipstick, which highlights your lips.

You take a deep breath and walk out of your room. You can do it.

You can't make it, you think. Short breaths escape your lips in nervousness. It's always like that when you sing in a new place, but as soon as you start performing and become one with the music, you relax. You can't wait for it to start and at the same time you don't want to start.

You take a big breath before you go on stage. Everyone's eyes on you as the owner of the tavern introduces you.

You catch a glimpse of the High Lords in the crowd, surrounded by their family. Feyre waves at you, and though slightly surprised, you smile at her.

When the female leaves the stage, you sit down on the small stool in front of the piano. You take a deep breath, and then you let go. You let the music speak for you.

Azriel couldn't take his eyes off you. He couldn't take his eyes off that angelic creature with an angelic voice who was sitting in front of the piano and singing what seemed to him to be the most beautiful song he had ever heard.

He knows he is not the only one who thinks so. During this evening you have stolen the hearts of many males, and females, with your voice and your beautiful dress and your lovely face. Even his shadows seem enraptured by you, and they dance around him to the slow, honeyed rhythm of your songs.

Azriel approaches Feyre, knowing that it was she herself who requested you here this evening.

"Who is she?" he asks.

"Her name is Y/n Y/ln. She is a singer from the Winter Court. She's breath-taking, isnt she?" She says keeping her eyes fixed on her, her eyes shining from the melodies you were able to play and create.

"She is." Azriel replies, enraptured as much as his High Lady.

A little while later, when you perform your last song, and by then the evening has come to an end and Azriel's family begins to retire, he stays. He stays until the last second of your last song. He stays until the sound of the piano finishes echoing in the air.

You get up, and with a small, embarrassed bow, especially after the many rounds of applause, you leave the audience's sight and hide in the backstage.

Azriel knows that Feyre and Rhysand are there to thank you in person and congratulate you, and he curses himself for not following them, wanting to speak to you himself.

He has never been so enraptured with a creature as he is with you at the moment.

That night, when he walks the snowy streets of Velaris, he can't get you out of his mind. And he can't even get it out of his mind when he gets to his little cabin that he has decided to move into to give Cassian and Nesta some space.

The next day, he hopes he has forgotten you, but he doesn't.

Azriel knows himself, knows what happened the last time he allowed himself to feel affection for a female: he stayed 500 years in the shadows. He doesn't want that to happen with you.

This morning he does not meet Cassian to train and coach the Valkyries, as usual. No, he decides to walk the streets of Velaris. He doesn't know why, but he feels like it. As if a superior force is telling him to do so.

As he walks, he pays no attention to where he is going and finds himself in front of Nesta's favorite bakery. How many times has he had to go get her favorite treats after a fight with her mate. She smiles at the thought.

As soon as he enters, his eyes sweep across the room and meet yours.

Gods, he thinks, what are the chances?

He doesn't want to be annoying, but he really wants to talk to you. He puts on his most charming smile and walks toward you.

You look at him in surprise. Today, you are wearing no makeup and no flashy clothes. You are wearing a simple dress that matches your eyes, just like last night, and a fur coat rests on the back of the small chair. On your table are several pieces of stained paper and a hot chocolate. You are so absorbed in your notes that you do not notice the male coming.

"Hello," Azriel greets you, stopping in front of your table. You look up and he feels his heart beat even faster.

"Hi! Have we met before?" You ask him, and even now that you are not singing, your voice is so sweet and angelic.

"No, no. But I was at Rita's yesterday." You look at him confused. "The club where you sang."

"Ah! I see. Is there something you want to tell me?"

"Not… not particularly, no." You smile at him, encouraging him, and if his brothers saw him now, babbling in front of a female, they would tease him to death. "I was just passing by, actually. And I saw you, and I thought I'd come and congratulate you on yesterday."

"Thank you very much…"

"Azriel."

"Ah! So I know you, Feyre told me about you." He looks at you in surprise, and you smile at him and gesture for him to sit down as well. He struggles a bit with his large wings and stature, but finally manages to sit down. "I am Y/n."

Azriel has to pretend not to know your name.

"Do you want something?" You ask him politely, sitting down on the table and taking all the crumpled papers.

"No, thank you. Were you writing?"

"Yes, I have to tell you the truth, Velaris inspires me a lot. You're very lucky to live here. Besides, you're all so nice! Although I haven't seen much yet." You exclaim in amazement, and Azriel can't help but smile at you.

"If you would like, I can take you to see the city. We can go for a walk." You smile as you notice his cheeks turn a soft pink.

"Sure, Azriel. It would be my pleasure." And he couldn't be happier.

part 2

(dividers credit to @xxbimbobunnyxx) 🤎

[holllandtrash]

Can you do a quick lando angst

in the kitchen | lando norris

1k words - loosely based on the song by Reneé Rapp But now it's just me And a hundred square feet of bittersweet memories

You reached for the chain around your neck, yanking it off with a harsh tug, not even bothered to see where in the kitchen it landed. Maybe it slid under the fridge or tucked away in one of the corners and wouldn’t be found until the next time Lando swept.

Regardless, it was gone.

The necklace he bought you six months after you started dating meant nothing more than the dust that layered the ground. The golden initials, LN, could rust away for all you cared.

You imagined a day where Lando tried to find the necklace. He watched you pull it off with such force, it had to be in the kitchen somewhere. You thought about him on his hands and knees, searching for the last remnant of your relationship until finally, weeks later, he’d come across it covered in a layer of crumbs and grime.

What would he do with it?

Would he throw it out? Or would he just hold onto it, on the off chance that you came back for it, for him? Would he stand there in the kitchen and ask himself what went wrong?

You used to dance in that kitchen. You in one of his shirts, Lando in a quadrant hoodie with the matching crew socks. He’d spin you under his arms and you’d laugh as he fought not to slip on the tiled floor. Quiet music would play through the bluetooth speaker sitting at the edge of the counter and the only light to guide your movements flooded in dimly from the hallway.

You used to cook together in this kitchen. Side by side, breakfast, lunch and dinner when his obligations didn’t whisk him away. You’d argue over the good cutting board because even though there were three other perfectly good cutting boards tucked away in the cupboard, it was more fun for Lando to pinch your sides and tuck you into his chest as your laughter filled the confined space, it was a sound Lando easily became accustomed to. 

There was a point when he would do anything to hear it, to be the reason your face lit up and that breathtaking melody passed through your lips. He loved to be the reason for your laugh, your smile, all of it.

He told you he loved you for the first time in that kitchen.

It was during the winter break, a week or two before Christmas and you had just gotten back from a holiday party one of your friends hosted. As you were in the process of sliding your jacket off, you verbalised those worrying thoughts you had about still not being able to find a gift for his parents, something you had been muttering about for a few days and you expected the same response when you turned to face Lando. Don’t worry, we still have time.

But he stood there in the kitchen, twisting one of the rings on his finger and staring at you with a look he had never given you before. The only way you could describe it was new. Like Lando had a fresh set of eyes and he was looking at you in a way he had never been able to before tonight.

“What?” You asked, trying to figure out what was going through that head of his. Usually, you could. You knew him better than he knew himself.

But you didn’t expect him to reach for your hand and pull you into his chest. Your arms wrapped around his waist as you stared up at him. The lack of light in the flat didn’t falter your ability to see him so clearly, it never did. 

“I love you,” he whispered, so quietly you almost didn’t hear him. The corner of his lips tugged upwards and he nodded, like he was happy with those words, proud that he finally got them out. “I love you,” he repeated. 

He loved you.

At that point, he did. He meant those words and you didn’t doubt it. 

Now? You wondered if the times he did say it, he said it absentmindedly before walking out the door, like he had to remind himself how he felt about you, like he needed to say those words for you, not because he wanted to. 

You didn’t dance in that kitchen anymore, you hadn’t in months. 

You didn’t cook together, relying on delivery apps or eating at separate times. 

You didn’t laugh anymore.

Those words, ‘I love you’ hadn’t been spoken out loud in twelve days. You counted. 

You stopped saying it first, waiting to see if he would take it upon himself to not be the response, but you had too high of expectations for him. Lando stopped telling you that he loved you the second you stopped telling him. 

Did he even realise it? That you had pulled away, that you stopped meeting him at the door to kiss him, stopped dragging him into the kitchen to dance with you. All of those moments, those sweet intimate moments that once meant so much to both of you, had vanished. 

If he noticed, he didn't say anything.

If he noticed, why didn't he say anything?

Why was he still not saying anything?

Why were you just staring at each other? Why were there tears streaming down your face while he just stood there? Why wouldn’t he just tell you that he loved you? When did he stop loving you?

When did he stop loving you?

And when did you stop loving him?

You looked away first, maybe you were looking for the necklace for a quick second or maybe you just couldn’t take that distant stare anymore. He wasn’t looking at you like you were brand new. His eyes were tired, drained. They carried no love for you. 

Without a word, you stepped away from him, mind and heart empty but that’s how the kitchen felt for months now anyway. Four cutting boards just seemed like too much. The music was too loud. This 100 square feet of space was too dark for you to find any sort of comfort anymore. 

There was nothing there for you to hold onto. 

It was just a kitchen.

- this is not edited im sorry if theres mistakes - also sorry i havent written in a hot minute i love u

[matttgirlies]

Matt & Me🎀

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24

a story heavily based on Priscilla Presley’s Book “Elvis & Me” based in the 1950’s - 1970’s.

fem! reader x singer! matt

disclaimer!! - in no way am i saying matt would ever support or do these kind of things, for the sake of the book certain unethical things do happen at times.

warnings - age gap,, sexual references

y/nn = your nickname for anyone confused🩷

Chapter 5

For the next two days I locked myself in my room, unable to eat, unable to sleep. Finally my mother said, “This isn’t going to help. Moping around here isn’t going to bring him back. He’s gone. He’ll be getting into his new life, and so should you.”

I forced myself to go to school and found myself swamped by photographers and reporters who were calling me “the girl he left behind” and barraging me with questions.

“How old are you, Miss y/ln?”

“I’m, uh—”

“Your records show you’re only in the ninth grade.”

“Well, ah, yes, that—”

“How long have you known Mr. Sturniolo?”

“About  . . . just a few months.”

“What is your relationship with him?”

“We’re  . . . just friends.”

“Has he called you since he returned?”

“No, but—”

“Did you know he’s seeing Madison Beer?”

“What?”

“Madison Beer.”

Suddenly feeling sick, I excused myself and left.

Each day there were calls from the United States, with offers of first-class round-trip tickets for me to appear on TV. I declined these as well as offers from top European magazines requesting interviews and photo sessions. Letters poured in from lonesome GIs all over the world. I had attracted their attention, perhaps as a soldier’s sweetheart. I also received letters from Matt’s fans, some friendly and some disheartened that maybe they had lost him.

Days passed into weeks and I became more and more resigned to the fact that Matt was now dating Madison Beer and had completely forgotten me. Twenty-one days after he left, the phone rang at three o’clock in the morning. I jumped out of bed, ran to answer it, and heard his wonderful voice.

“Hi, Baby. How’s my Little Girl?”

“Oh, Matt, I’m fine,” I said. “Only I miss you so. I thought you had forgotten me. Everyone was saying you would.”

“I told you I’d call, y/nn,” he assured me.

“I know, Matt, but there were photographers here and reporters and they kept asking me questions, and—oh, Matt, is it true you’re seeing Madison Beer?”

“Hold it. Hold it! Slow down,” he said, laughing. “No it’s not true that I’m seeing Madison Beer.”

“But they said you were.”

“Don’t believe everything you hear, Little Girl. You’ll find people trying to stir up trouble, just to make you upset. She’s a friend, Baby, just a friend. I’m appearing on her father’s show, and it was all set up for her to be here at my press conference when I returned to the States. I miss you, Baby. I think about you all the time.”

After that first phone call, I spent all my time writing and rewriting letters to him, but he never wrote back. Then one day he called, sounding very excited.

“I’m leaving for California in two days, Baby. I’m starting my first movie since the Army.”

All I could think about was whether he’d fall in love with his costar. As casually as I could, I asked, “Who’s your leading lady?”

Matt burst out laughing. “You don’t have to worry, Baby, I haven’t met her yet, but I hear she’s real tall. Her name’s Juliet Prowse. She’s a dancer and she’s engaged to Frank Sinatra.”

Relieved, I asked, “What’s the name of the film?”

“Wouldn’t you know it,” he answered, “G.I. Blues. I think it’ll be pretty good. I’m a little concerned that there are too many songs in it, but I think it’ll work out. It had better, or I’ll have a few choice words to say.”

A few weeks later Matt called again. His enthusiasm for G.I. Blues had turned to bitter disappointment.

“I just finished looping the goddamn picture,” he said dejectedly. “And I hate it. They have about twelve songs in it that aren’t worth a cat’s ass,” he said angrily, and then added, “I just had a meeting with Colonel William about it. I want half of them out. I feel like a goddamn idiot breaking into a song while I’m talking to some chick on a train.”

“Well, what’d the Colonel say?” I asked.

“Hell, what could he say? I’m locked into this thing. Already been paid,” he complained. “They seemed to think it’s wonderful. I’m goddamn miserable.”

“Maybe the next one will be better,” I said.

“Yeah, yeah,” he said, starting to calm down. “The Colonel’s requested better scripts. It’s just this is my first film since I’ve been back and it’s a joke.” There was a long pause as static filled the line. Finally Matt said, “I gotta go, y/nn, and I can barely hear you. I’ll call you soon, be good, I love you.”

I was living in a state of suspended life, waiting for Matt’s infrequent calls. There was never a pattern to them. He would phone out of the blue after three weeks—or three months. He always did most of the talking, chatting about his current film or his costar. Occasionally, he’d talk about Nicole, saying their relationship wasn’t what he had expected when he returned from the Army. He was no longer sure he wanted to be with her. I didn’t know where I stood. Time and distance had created doubts and questions; I wanted to ask him, “Where do I fit in your life? Or do I?”

Matt was still mentioning that he really wanted me to see Graceland, especially at Christmas, when it was its most beautiful. He said I’d meet Pauline, the maid. Matt called her Pauline VO5. He laughed and said, “I’ll tell her, ‘O Five, I’ve got a little girl I want you to meet.”

This gave me some hope of a future. I wanted to believe him when he said he still cared for me. But during the periods when I did not hear from him, I couldn’t help but doubt that I would ever see him again. I heard his latest hit record, “(Marie’s the Name) His Latest Flame,” and felt sure that he’d fallen in love with a girl named Marie.

That summer, Paul Anka was on a European tour. He was to make a guest appearance at a nearby Air Force facility in Wiesbaden. I slyly arranged for my mother to drop me off at the time specified for his arrival. My intentions, unknown to her, were highly contrived and they had to do, strictly, with Matt. I wanted to ask him if by chance he knew Matt and if Matt had ever mentioned me. But when he got out of his car he was surrounded by fans, and I was too shy to push through the crowd to speak to him.

I gleaned every bit of news about Matt that I could. I listened constantly to the overseas radio and scanned every article in The Stars and Stripes newspaper. But each story about Matt I read only upset me all the more. Besides Nicole, he seemed to be romantically linked with many beautiful young starlets in Hollywood—Tuesday Weld, Juliet Prowse, and Anne Helm, among others.

I wrote him: “I need you and want you in every way and, believe me, there’s no one else  . . . I wish to God I were with you now. I need you and all your love more than anything in this world.”

It was a cold, snowy day in March 1962, nearly two years since Matt had left Germany. In the late afternoon, I received a call from him. It had been months since we last spoke.

“I’d like to make arrangements for you to visit me in Los Angeles,” he said. “Do you think we can work it out?”

Stunned, I blurted, “What? I’m not sure. Oh God, I wasn’t expecting this. It’s going to take some time, some planning.”

I didn’t think my father could ever be persuaded to let me go. There were several phone calls with Matt trying to say all the right words to please my parents. I had separate talks with my mother, hoping she’d help me convince Dad.

Once again Matt met every one of Dad’s demands: that we wait until I was out of school for the summer, that Matt send me a first-class round-trip ticket, that he send my parents an exact itinerary of my daily activities for the two weeks I’d be in Los Angeles, that I be constantly chaperoned, and that I write my parents every day.

The next few months might as well have been years. I marked off each day on the calendar until we would be together.

Los Angeles

When the plane landed in Los Angeles, I found the terminal bustling with vacationing students. But I easily spotted Nate Doe, who was still working for Matt.

It was good to see Nate. His big smile and warm embrace were comforting. I loved hearing him tell me I looked great. I didn’t think I did. The last time Matt saw me, I had been fourteen years old and five pounds lighter. I was afraid that he might be disappointed when he saw me, that he might send me home the next day.

I got my first glimpse of Los Angeles when we drove in from the airport. It was beautiful, a far cry from the drabness of postwar Germany. As we passed the MGM studios in Culver City, Nate said, “That’s where Matt films most of his movies.” Soon we were speeding along the legendary Sunset Strip and through the large wrought-iron gates of Bel Air. I was entering a world I’d never experienced. Every home along the winding road seemed grander than the one before.

We turned in at Matt’s house on Bellagio Road, a large home modeled after an Italian villa. We were greeted by Matt’s butler, who introduced himself as Arnold and said, “Mr. S is in the den.” As we walked through the door, I could hear loud music playing and people laughing. Nate led me downstairs.

Before entering, I took a deep breath. The years of waiting were now over.

In the dim light I saw people lounging on a couch and others standing over a jukebox, selecting songs. Then I spotted Matt, dressed in dark trousers, a white shirt, and a black captain’s hat. He was leaning over a pool table, ready to make a shot. I wanted to run to him, but this roomful of people was not the setting I had dreamed of for our first meeting. I continued to stand there, watching him.

He looked up and saw me and after a slight pause his face lit with a smile. “There she is!” he shouted, throwing down his cue stick. “There’s y/n!”

He made his way over to me, picked me up in his arms, and kissed me. I held onto him for as long as I could—until he put me down. “It’s about time,” he said, joking. “Where have you been all my life?”

Aware that every eye in the room was on us, I was uncomfortable and embarrassed. I quickly wiped the tears from my face before anyone noticed. Matt took my hand and introduced me around, and then we sat down together.

“Baby, I’m so glad you’re here,” he kept saying. “I can’t wait to show you around. You’ve grown up. You look great. Let me look at you. Stand up.”

As his eyes surveyed me, I became increasingly self-conscious, and I didn’t want him looking too long. He might find flaws.

He looked terrific, although I was surprised to see that the brown hair he’d had in the Army was now dyed black. He looked thinner, happier.

“Don’t go away,” he said. He kissed me lovingly, then returned to the pool table to finish his game. The night seemed to go slowlytoo slowly. While Matt continued his game a few of the girls eased their way over to me and started talking. They said Matt threw parties almost every night.

Hearing this and watching him as the night progressed, I felt out of touch with his new life, even though the girls told me he talked about me often and even showed my pictures around.

Playing pool, Matt laughed and joked around, and when one of the girls bent over the table to attempt a shot, Matt poked her in the backside with his pool cue. She shrieked in surprise and everyone laughed,everyone except me. I couldn’t help noticing that there had been a slight change in Matt. He’d left Germany a gentle, sensitive, and insecure boy; through the course of the evening I’d see that he now was mischievous and self-confident to the point of cockiness.

He also seemed quick to anger. When a girl cautioned him to watch out for a glass that was perched precariously on the edge of the pool table, he shot her a dirty look, as if to tell her, “Move the glass yourself.”

I felt a surge of uneasiness. I was unsure of what to do or say. Between shots he’d come over and give me an affectionate kiss, ask if I was all right, and then move back for his next shot. Meanwhile, the curious stares of his female admirers never left me.

It was after 12:30 a.m. when Matt finally sat down next to me. Now it was like the old days in Germany: He was suggesting that we go to his bedroom. “Up the stairs, the first door to your right,” he said. “The lights are on. I’ll be right up.” I started to rise. “Wait a few minutes, until I get up and leave,” he said. “That way it won’t look so obvious.”

I wasn’t sure if I liked that. I knew he was protecting me, but there were so many pretty girls around, I wanted to make sure everyone knew he was mine—at least for as long as I was here. I’d waited too long to be discreet. I got up, stretched a little, and politely said good night to everyone, hoping they would know exactly where I was going.

I ran up the stairs and easily found Matt’s bedroom. How different it was from his ordinary-looking quarters in Germany. I never imagined him living in such luxury—thick carpets, exquisite furnishings—but the room had a welcoming, lived-in feeling.

And then my eyes fell on the king-size bed in the middle of the room. I immediately thought of how many women might have slept there  . . . whose bodies he had embraced. . . and even worse, whose lips had passionately pressed his and driven him to ecstasy. I couldn’t think about it anymore.

I walked over to the French doors, which overlooked the driveway, and saw Matt’s guests exchanging good nights as they got into their cars. Knowing he’d probably be coming up soon, I rushed into the large adjoining bathroom.

Within ten minutes, I had jumped in and out of the bathtub, combed my hair, brushed my teeth, and dusted my entire body with some powder I’d found in the medicine cabinet. I put on my favorite blue pajamas and stood motionless before the door leading to the bedroom. I was so apprehensive that I was unable to open the door. This was the moment I had both longed for and feared. I sat down on a chair and remembered that when I’d been fourteen, Matt had said that I was “too young.” Now that I was sixteen I tried to imagine just what this new Matt, who I hardly knew at all, might be expecting of me.

About fifteen minutes later, I heard him as he opened the bedroom door, yelling down to his cousin, Billy Smith, who also worked for him: “Don’t let me sleep later than three tomorrow, Billy.” Then I heard him close the door, lock it, and call out, “Where are you, Baby?”

“I’m in the bathroom,” I shouted. “I’ll be just a few more minutes.”

“Don’t take too long. I want to see my girl.”

I still couldn’t move.

He called again: “What are you doing in there, y/nn? No one takes this long to get ready for bed.”

It was the moment of truth: Taking a deep breath, I opened the door and walked out. Matt was lying on the bed, facing me. I walked slowly toward him, climbed into the bed, and lay down next to him. Our faces were only inches apart. It was such an unexpected moment of tenderness that I was mesmerised looking into his eyes. We lay there for what seemed like a long time, staring at each other until our eyes filled with tears.

Matt softly touched my face. “God,” he whispered. “You don’t know how much I’ve missed you. You’ve been an inspiration to me. Don’t ask me why, but I haven’t been able to put you out of my mind since I left you in Germany. It’s been the one thing that’s kept me going.”

I couldn’t hold back any longer: Tears streamed down my face. Matt took me in his arms and held me close, but I couldn’t get close enough. If I could have gotten inside him, I would have.

“It’s gonna be all right, Baby. I promise you. You’re here now and that’s all that matters. We’ll have a good time and not think about you going back.”

As we lay in the dim light, he soon discovered that I was still as untouched as he’d left me two years before. Relieved and pleased, he told me how much this meant to him. It was as if every feeling I had as a woman began to emerge, and I began kissing him passionately. I wanted him—I was ready to submit entirely to him. He returned my passion. Then, abruptly, he stopped.

“Wait a minute, Baby,” he said, speaking softly. “This can get out of hand.”

“Is there anything wrong?” I was fearful that I wasn’t pleasing him. He shook his head, kissed me again, then gently put my hand on him so I could feel for myself just how much he desired me, emotionally and physically. He pressed his body to mine and it felt wonderful.

“Matt, I want you.”

He put his finger to my lips and whispered, “Not yet, not now. We have a lot to look forward to. I’m not going to spoil you. I just want to keep you the way you are for now. There’ll be a right time and place, and when the moment comes, I’ll know it.”

Although confused, I wasn’t about to argue. He made it clear that this was what he wanted. He made it sound so romantic, and, in a strange way, it was something to look forward to—just as he had said.

Later that night he told me that I had to stay with friends of his, George and Shirley Barris. Although I protested, Matt said, “I don’t want to go back on my promise to your father. Besides, if he found out you were staying with me, he’d make you go right home.” It didn’t make any sense, but I got out of bed and Matt had Nate drive me over to the Barrises’ house, where I would spend the night. Reluctantly.

Later I found out through one of the wives whom I had befriended the reason for my spending that first night with George and Shirley. Apparently Nicole had been sent back to Boston the day before, and Matt was taking precautions to avoid any awkward situations for himself that might have resulted from late-night phone calls.

Excerpt from: "Elvis and Me" by Priscilla Beaulieu Presley. Scribd.

This material may be protected by copyright.

a/n - longer chapter to make up for the last shorter one🩷

[coffeewithacold]

Our kingmaker campaign goes great!

Some from our games~

Starring: Lemm - LN halfling fighter, "guys you can't arrest them, it's MY job" Aegen - CN halfling bard, "i lost my left mitten. the right one is sad, cause they were very close-knit" Alisson - NG drama queen half-elf magus, "i take a step and use a point from my arcane pool to burn the living fuck out of them" Siegfried - LG human paladin of Abadar, "Yeah my god won't be okay with me participating in an unknown ritual, but Alisson asked nicely" Essa - LG half-elf cleric of Erastil, "Where are the cows, BITCH" Hedviga - CN human shifter, "she expresses her displeasure with being stung by an arrow by turning into a big ass wolf"

Lemm after yet another fairy problem: There was a rabbit with tits jumping on Siegfried! Alisson: you know, if I was a rabbit with tits, maybe I'd like to jump on Siegfried too... I mean- *Tatzlwyrms attacks nest of magpies* Alisson with nat 1 on init: oh, they're cute, can I pet them?

*Group finds traces of boots and horse hooves* Essa: maybe it was centaurs? Hedviga: in boots? Aegen: oh no, Centaurus in Boots-

*OOC taking about character's backstories* Alisson: Natalie told fortunes with cards. Four died, one is in intensive care. Siegfried: Natalie, no more fortune telling! Alisson: She won't be able to, even if she wants to.

*Meeting with the robbers* Lemm: Guys, we are in the minority. Siegfried: Don't worry, they're just bandits robbing peasants. Alisson with all her elvish pride: Pathetic.

*Alisson buying wine for the ritual* Lemm: take one more for us! Alisson: aren't we working? Aegen: we'll just have a cultural evening with a glass of wine Alisson: Okay, I'll buy one more, but we'll drink it after the mission. Lemm: maybe- Alisson: NO. Alisson: I have never paid taxes and I'm not gonna to Lemm: you what. Alisson: never mind Lemm: you gonna leave your sons in prison? NPC, Bob Moslin: yes, cause I'm RAT and I live like a RAT Lemm: wha- Bob: *turns into a wererat* *Fighting with Kressle* Siegfried: well, her hp is low and i want to knock her out. I'm taking a step and beat the woman. Aegen: Here he is, our future baron. Hedviga: Do rulers pay taxes? Alisson: I think the Revolutionary Council... Lemm: the Revolutionary what? Alisson: NEVER MIND GM: In this robbers' cache there are several bottles of strong liquor, a lot of jewelry, about 900 gold coins and a music box worth 90 gold Alisson: what is the melody in the music box? GM: well... it's a nice melody Alisson: Is anyone from our lawful guys watching? No? Okay, I steal the music box when no one is looking.

[16-lost-in-a-film-scene]

Goodbye, my love

gif not mine, credits to owner

How do two unconfessed lovers say goodbye when it feels like it is the last time that they'll see each other? ㅤ|ㅤ When pan's curse is about to hit, Emma Swan and her beloved pirate have to say goodbye.

ㅤ Emma Swan x F!reader

Everyone was standing at Storybrooke's limit line, saying their goodbyes to Emma and Henry, who were about to leave and would have their memories erased.

Y/N walked to Emma, ready to say what could be her last words to her. She was about to start talking when Swan got ahead and talked first.

— I will definitely not miss your stupid face. — She said, trying to be sarcastic and take a bit of the seriousness out because it was a lot. Y/N chuckled and shook her head with a smile before answering.

‐ You won't even remember it, blondie. ‐ Y/LN said, with a bit of sadness in her tone, even though she tried to hide it. She smiled lightly to try to lift Emma's spirits.

Y/N could've sworn that she saw tears in Emma's eyes, even when the blonde girl tried to hide them by lowering her head and looking to the floor, so she hugged her. She hugged her like she never had before, like she wanted to express everything she hadn't said before, like she really thought that this was a goodbye and there was no way to fix this one.

‐ So, this is it, I guess? ‐ The Y/HC-haired said, still hugging her while feeling Emma holding her tighter and wiping some tears on her shirt. And to make her feel better, as she is Y/N Y/LN, she had to make some lame joke. - I think this is the part where you're meant to kiss me. ‐ She whispered to Emma's ears only, and she laughed a bit, a sound that even though it was a melody to Y/N's ears, it came out with drops of hidden sadness.

Emma pulled away before answering, not getting too far but at the same time, not too close. Enough distance to confuse the other one.

— Save that one for the next time we see each other, pirate. — She answered in a sarcastic tone, making Y/LN smile for a few seconds, an expression that quickly flew away when she was hit with realization. She took a deep breath.

‐ I thought you would be my happy ending, Emma. ‐ She said before kissing Swan's cheek, smiling at Henry as a 'goodbye' and walking away, leaving the blonde girl without a chance to answer, just touching softly with her fingers the place Y/N had kissed.

[simpfordemetri]

DONT PUSH ME ASIDE-Carlisle Cullen X Reader!NEKO

Carlisle POV

My turn in the hospital just ended,taking my phone while heading to the car i called my beloved Valrin,however,to my surprise,he didnt pick up.

Calling again,just thinking he might just fallen asleep,the unusual “peeee” at the end of the non existent phone call sounded again.

Worrying increased in my chest,as i drive at a dangerous velocity through the woods trying to arrive house as soon as i can.

Valrin struggles with anxiety when he feels overwhelmed and these last days have not been the best for him,he has been complaining about things not resulting how he wanted and feeling confused and how to do it better next time.

Seems like all my advices didnt work for him

VALRIN POV

Of course i heard the two phone calls Carlisle left me,but i just didnt feel like talking to no one,my body feels heavy and my anxiety is on top of the clouds right now.

While i was lost in my thoughts,the door room opened and Carlisle enter the room with a worried look.

“Whats wrong Rin?”He asked,looking deeply into my eyes trying to find answers.

My antisocial behaviour decided to play me a bad game at the moment so i just went back to lay down on bed as a sign that i didnt feel like talking.

Luckyli,Carlisle these lasts years had gotten to knew me too much that he knew what i needed at all times,and he knew i wasnt gonna talk,so he just took his shoes off and cuddle me from behind

Suddenly i felt how he rubs my ears softly as he started to sing some type of melody that was weirdly relaxing.

With that,he made me fall sleep,without feeling any pain ln my chest for the first time in the last few days

[mayoiayasep]

YURI WINS... but also the trained has me scared idk why. girls what happened there. < hasn't read ln stories since don't lose faith

oh my god same i havent read l/n stories past echo my melody im so behind.....ichisaki yuri i'll catch up for you...

[queen0fm0nsterz]

do you think the music box is a constant throughout each loop? I mean, both Six and Rascal had their own different music boxes independent from each other, so I don’t know. I wonder what the other Ladies’ music boxes sounded like.

I actually think yes. Yes they do have themes. And I hand picked them from the LN ost repertoire myself.

Fox - Beneath the Waves

Tengu and Scarecrow - The Death Waltz

Teapot - Prison Toys

I think narratively all these songs would make logical sense when paired up with the Ladies.

Teapot has a prisoner motif and is known to be curious, so the song having this sense of wonder only to end on a nostalgic piano recreation of the melody makes especially sense when you remember there's a piano in her section. The Death Waltz goes to the sisters for obvious reasons, but I also like how the musical base of the song plays a completely different tune from the singing voice, yet the two don't necessarily make the other less enjoyable. They just go together on parallel lines. As for Fox... Beneath the Waves is perfect because to me it really sounds like someone being lost and not knowing where to go/be, only for the Maw to come in at the very end.

[yawnzbf-shifted]

⚝ LOVE?

An artist who used to paint his muse, answers the questions of a curious journalist

600+ words

“I heard you only paint those whom you love, is that true?” the journalist asks away in awe as she admires the only unfinished painting among a clutter of finished pieces, sticking out like a sore thumb.

Though it was the very same muse for all the paintings, each of them varied from each other. It was almost impossible for her to grasp how and why they seemed so different?

Maybe it was the brushstrokes that made the difference or perhaps the lighting? She questioned herself. Even with these complications, one thing was clear whoever it was captured in those creations could only be described with one word- ethereal.

Ms. Julia was so absorbed in the sightseeing, she didn’t realize that she had unintentionally crossed into the artist's personal space. The said artist looked up, a small smile playing on his lips.

“ah miss Julia, an interesting question indeed. It is true I only paint those whom I have loved. You see love is a very amusing emotion- at least for me and to understand that very thing I immerse myself in the act of capturing it on canvas,” yn explained with a distant look in his eyes.

 

The journalist notes it down in her notebook hurriedly. Prying eyes of the artist take a notice of this as he settles back down by his most recent- unfinished piece.

“There is no need to hurry miss, if you want I can wait for you to jot it down before I continue” yn offers feeling bad for the corporate worker.

“oh! Mr. Ln, I wouldn’t want that, I’ve already prolonged my stay here for the interview. But if I may dare, could I ask why this unfinished painting is kept along with the finished ones?” Julia expresses her curiosity.

Yn remains silent for a second too long in thought of how to answer the question. Julia suddenly feels as if she crossed the lines once again by asking her client a personal question.

“If you don’t want to answer that’s fine by me! Sir!” she utters out panicked.

“It isn’t as if I don’t want to, rather I find it difficult how to answer your question miss” yn answers which somehow calms the journalist’s nerves down.

“then, maybe is this person the one whom you love?” she urges after all every person who knew about artist yn’s paintings had only seen one face over and over again until yn stopped.

A smile immediately graces the artist’s face, maybe even the mere thought of those memories.

“yes, these works you see miss Julia were made for the person whom I loved” yn replies.

“Loved?” Julia repeats in question.

Oh.

Oh.

“I’m sorry Mr. Ln. I was insensitive, is- is he dead?” She asks away feeling her heart break for the other.

Until, she hears laughter- pure and genuine. Yn’s laughter filled the studio, echoing like a melody that resonated with a bittersweet harmony.

“No need for apologies, Miss Julia. Your concern is appreciated, but no, he’s not gone.” Yn stops abruptly to catch his breath then continues.

“its just that while I was painting this unfinished piece you see, I realized that I had fallen out of love with my muse”

 Yn continued, his expression a mixture of introspection and acceptance.

Julia, absorbing the unexpected twist in the narrative, listened attentively as Yn shared his thoughts. “The unfinished painting embodies not just the enduring nature of love but also the vulnerability of human emotions. It became a mirror reflecting the changes in my heart, and I decided to leave it as a testament to that realization.”

Silence erupted between the two as the only noise that could be heard was the record player playing a melody.

“Is there anything else that plagues your mind missy?” yn teased.

“ah, no sir. I think I have troubled you enough today and it’s time for this interview to end as well, don’t you agree Mr. Yn?” yn smiled at the gesture as he lead his guest to the door.

Bidding her a farewell.

[uni-vee]

[LN] Collection of Time

The suit is inspired by Johannes Vermeer’s ‘Girl with a Pearl Earring’. The background accessories are also paintings by the Dutch artist as well as one by François Millet. This event will not be an limited collab.

Event: Dress Nikki according to theme. Getting an S (perfect outfit) grants more currency

Suit: Melody of Dream

Suit Details: Dress pose, new makeup, 3+ movables

Time: 21 Mar — 27 Mar, 2023

[greynatomy]

where were you in the morning - three

alessia russo x reader

previous - next

———

Your mood instantly dropped. The girl, who you knew only by her name, disappeared. You thought - no - you knew she was special. That connection you felt with her was something you couldn’t just forget.

Rubbing a hand over your face, you swing your legs over to the side of the bed, sitting up. Taking a deep breath, you look around the room. The floor that was once littered with clothes that weren’t yours are found bare - bar the clothes belonging to you.

With a groan, you get up from the bed and walk to your closet, quickly putting on some boxers and a hoodie. Walking out of the room, any traces of Alessia is nowhere to be found.

You were in over your head. Completely clueless on how you managed to scare the girl away.

“Fuck!” You yelled out in frustration, but not loud enough for the people in the rooms next to you could hear.

Opening up the living room curtains, you grab your guitar from the corner of the room. Sitting on the couch, guitar in hand, you space out a bit, trying and failing to get the girl off your mind.

Playing a bit with a melody, one stuck to you, recording it on your phone.

“I look around and you’re not there? No, no.” You scribble in the little notepad hotels give out. “I look around but I don’t see you. Yeah, that’s good. Where were you in the morning? I didn’t get your number. Left without, uh, left without a warning.”

You place your phone on the side of the couch, angling it towards you and press record. You start playing the melody and singing all the lyrics you have.

—

liked by victoriapelova, harrystyles and 2,576,446 others

yourinstagram lil something i wrote

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—

Two hours later, you pretty much had most of the song finished and ready to go into the studio. The sound of your phone ringing breaks you out of your zone.

“Y/LN.” You answer

“Have you seen the articles?” You recognize the voice of your manager.

“What articles?” Getting off the couch, you stand by the window, looking out.

“So many speculations on who you’re dating.” Alina points out.

“Which is nothing new.”

“That’s true.” It’s silent for a bit. “Any NDA’s I need someone to sign?”

“No, no. Uh, she left before I woke up, so it’d be no use. Just wish I knew more than her name.”

“So you don’t know who she is?”

“Nope.”

“What happens when she leaks it out there that she spent the night with you?” You could hear your manager getting antsy.

“I doubt she will, but if she does, maybe I could see her again soon.”

“You want to see her again?”

“Yeah.”

“Why? You don’t even know her?” Alina exclaims, thinking you’re out of your mind.

“Well, I wanna get to know her! She’s been all I could think about since I woke up. All I could write about.”

“Then, maybe you should just keep writing. And maybe she’d already realized the snippet you posted is about her.”

“I don’t even know if she knew who I was.”

“She’d have to be living under a rock to not know who you are.”

“We talked about getting breakfast last night, get to know each other more.”

“All you can do right now is be patient and hope she reaches out.”

“Yeah, I hope she does.”

[bibliophilea]

I got tagged here by @ectoentity! Thanks for the tag!

RULES: post the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, and then post a little snippet or tell them something about it! and then tag as many people as you have WIPs.

So, here goes!

5 times Amy gets kissed by her boyfriends + 1 time her boyfriend kisses her

50 Ways to Not Learn Ghost Speak

A Helping Hand

A Wes and Paulina Scene

Broken

Captured by the GIW

Dannymay 2020 Shorts - Science

[[REDACTED FOR ECTO-IMPLOSION]]

Glow in the Dark

Icarus

In Case I’m Not Awake

In Which Danny Is Late and Shenanigans Do Not Ensue

Just a Flesh Wound (ao3 | tumbl | ffn)

Live Wire

Medusa Rising

Nii-San’s Aura

No Psychic Aura

our days are numbered (but we don’t have to be)

Sarracenia

Shatter

She Burns with the Light of a Thousand Worlds

Spiderverse but with Danny Phantom

The End (ao3 | tumbl | ffn)

Therapy Who?

They say the old Fenton place is haunted

Tucker Hates Hospitals

Wes Side Stories Script

You’re Not Dead Yet

And now to tag… 28 people!

@kawaiijohn @princessfanonanona @echoghost1 @redajcted @bubblegumbeech @ectoblastfromthepast @catmiint @redead-red @grub-xd @strawberrycamel @underforeversgrace @currentlylurking @five-rivers @lexosaurus @ecto-american @alzheimersparrotroute @glorious-typo @sarasanddollar @maebird-melody @ln-ofx @kinglazrus @theaxolotlkween @skellagirl @dp-marvel94 @armed-with-knitting-needles @pennerjones @sailor-toni @lexiepiper

Feel free to do this, or not do this, at your leisure! Have phun!!

[losergendered]

ID: A set of 18 images, in six rows of three. the first row is three icons of ichika from project sekai with a white outline in front of the blacksheepsongic flag. each icon has different card art, which, from left to right, are untrained the smile that has returned, heart throbbing thank you message, and trained waiting for an inspiration. the next three rows are the same format, but with different characters and flags. the next row is of shiho and the futchazurgirl flag. the card art is untrained the answer i had found, technical expert, and trained our sounds joint together. the next row is of honami and the arriereetegender flag. the card art is happy birthday 2022, untrained beyond a smile, and untrained what comes after courage. the next row is of saki and the rosaceumic flag. the card art is trained have you gotten all muscley, happy birthday 2023, and trained an unexpected phone call. the next row is of ln miku, ln luka, and ln meiko, in front of the comfynottea, darlingteacher, and punkrosboy flags respectively. the card art is untrained a chat on the rooftop, untrained guiding hand, and untrained reassuring warmth. the next row is of ln rin, ln len, and ln kaito in front of the tomboylexic, loserboygender, and loserpresentic flags respectively. the card art is untrained a tomboyish melody, untrained a moment after school, and untrained facing your song. END ID

blacksheepsongic Ichika Hoshino / futchazurgirl Shiho Hinomori / arriereetegender Honami Mochizuki / rosaceumic Saki Tenma / comfynottea l/n Miku / darlingteacher l/n Luka / punkrosboy l/n Meiko / tomboylexic l/n Rin / loserboygender l/n Len / nerdpresentic l/n Kaito

part four of @mogai-headcanons edit event! Day 9 xenogender | specific xenogender

[pelicandensity]

Chilling Out

silent world

white blanket

grey sky

the quiet ice

it all speaks

to me ln

whispers

of a world

at rest as 

I listen to

its melody