guitar on a table

melodrama through the eyes of a (fellow) synaesthete

hello everyone! just like lorde herself, i have a strong case of synaesthesia (I get colour visions, but also tastes and scents as well), so this is my attempt to review the masterpiece that is melodrama through my synaesthetical experiences

let’s go

green light: car air freshener, heated highway and the visions you get when you drive in heat (a la mirages), blackberry-scented cheap shower gel, a pistachio green silk scarf, old school adidas kicks, lemon juice drops on fresh summer salad, beige satin, old black cars (a la classic cadillacs and jaguars), maple syrup, the heat of cairo at around 11 am

sober: ripe honeydew, the smell of guitar wood varnish, red satin ribbons, smudged glass coffee tables, spilled lemonade on said tables, peach vodka, the feel of white plaster in old museums where security guards are very strict, cough syrup (both the colour and the flavour), artificial smell of mint, mint gum, velvet red carpeting in old and badly aired town halls, the humidity of rainforest

homemade dynamite: 4 am sunrise straight after a storm with torn dark grey, nearly black clouds being ripped, smell of gasoline, deep puddles in cracked pavement, dimmed street lights about to go out, magenta, white musk perfume from the body shop, deep indigo of the nearly sunrise of mid may, that walk home from a rowdy night out when everyone is more or less sobered up, but not sober enough to feel shy yet, still drunk enough to be honest with affection and cursing and slightly slurred speech

the louvre: bamboo blinds, bamboo shoots, bonsai trees, flowing honey, varnished birchwood, sunlit old halls in ugly grey soviet buildings, silver hellium-filled balloons, white shiny doors between a party-filled room and a closet where hook-ups and one-night stands take place, old oil paint, the sunny, lemon yellow butterflies, muddly skies of july, edelflower syrup in a glass of white wine, edelflower flower crowns, an expensive pool in a mansion-like house in hollywood hills, the eerie comfort and anxiety of the opening credits of twin peaks

liability: massive bouquets of lily of the valley, white lace curtains knitted by a grandmother, greyness of a sunday in a village on a last warm october day, a single light in an office on a late night in a massive skyscraper, dried flowers, drops of nosebleed on a crystal clean white sink, grey that turns into pastel lilac, the feeling of ripped paper

hard feelings/loveless: faint sunrise shining through the windows of a manhattan apartment in a skyscraper, all shades of orange spilling onto a hi-tec kitchen, cointreau liqueur, sunny warm nights on ocean beach, lukewarm bathtubs when the bath foam has fizzled, bonfires and burned marshmallows, just the beginning of feeling buzzed (like a glass of wine in), tender shades of yellow, rustiness of old heavy doors into a basement, scaffolding sounds, first sunniest days of spring after a heavy winter, sunset in the ocean, heavy fluffy sweaters / neon diner signs, anime eyes, porcelain dolls, peach-flavoured bubblegum, glass bowls

sober ii (melodrama): colour of crimson, heavy red velvet couches, smudged matte red lipstick, glass shards, ripped pearl necklaces and scattered pearls on sticky floor, red limelight, stilettos, tight black bodysuits, smoky-eyed tall models in revealing tight and latex dresses, marble furniture with golden decor, fistfights during a party, ripped suits and thrown ties and unbuttoned white shirts on boys with wealthy fathers

writer in the dark: light parakeet green, whitewashed starched tablecloths that crunch, old wooden tables, rusty cages for canaries, Advocat liqueur, big pearl necklaces on black dresses, big sunglasses (a la Audrey’s in Breakfast at Tiffany’s), sunny Sunday mornings on a patio with a cup of fancy tea, sunday clothes, white churches in greece, silver tears and crying in the backseat after a breakup, wilted flowers in a vase with dirty water

supercut: light green and orange, Love Is bubblegum, peaches, apricots, mint, Mojitos, fairy lights above people at a rooftop party, roadtrip one takes after a breakup with all thier belongings, flavoured water that doesn’t quench thirst, sparkling water with lemon and ice cubes, worn down picnic blankets, fancy dresses girls wear to the entrance into a nightclub, folding chairs, chilled champagne

liability (reprise): cold winter wind of february, the feeling on the tip of the tongue from scolding hot tea, big white rooms in museums, light green, light smoke of e-cigarette that smells like peppermint, the smell of sunscreen, the stillness of a swimming pool at noon in heat

perfect places: red wine, swinging chandeliers, red plastic cups, glass grand pianos, the last summer party in august, that warm feeling at the end of the party where everyone’s buzzed and affectionate and there’s a lot of kissing and hugging and swinging, big fake golden earrings, summer fruits, fancy hotels and luxurious lifts/elevators, skinny dipping, black velvet dresses that touch the floor, uncontrollable laughing in comfy sweaters

Jamaica

This is a lil something I wrote because I watched BTA and it ruined me…special thanks to @sing-me-a-song-harry for helping me edit and sort it out!! Hope you all like it!! xx B

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The sunlight was blinding, the humidity making your skin sticky and already making your hair nearly unmanageable as you made your way off the tarmac. You squinted and pulled down your shades, your eyes darting everywhere until they landed on a curly head of hair about ten yards from you. Harry was bent over his cell phone, lips rolled into his mouth and a pair of black RayBans holding his hair back from his eyes. He looked as delicious as ever, and you swallowed as you admired the slight tan he’d acquired over the past couple of weeks. Harry had always held a soft spot in your heart; with his killer smile and charming personality, you often wanted nothing more than to get on your knees for him. That sort of thinking wasn’t appropriate though, especially since the pair of you had always been just friends, nothing more. You cleared your throat.
“Harry!” You called and his head popped up, a warm smile on his lips.
”‘Lo, love! ’Ve missed ya, glad yeh decided t'come down.“ His arms wrapped around you, his lips pressing sweetly to your cheek, and you bit your lip as the scent of him flooded your senses. You loved the way he smelled. “Shall we?” Harry reached for your bags, leaving one arm draped casually over your shoulder.
“How’ve you been, H? How’s the writing?” Harry’s dimples deepened, and his eyes sparkled happily. He was well-rested for once, with no dark circles under his clear green eyes, and you smiled up at him as he began to ramble on about his album. Harry talked the entire way to the house he shared with his writing partners, his voice light and hands moving animatedly as he drove. The house itself was gorgeous, and when Harry showed you to your temporary room, you couldn’t help the snort that came from your lips.
“What happened to living modestly hidden in Jamaica?” A shrug and a half smile was his response as he set your bags down. He suddenly seemed close, very close, and his eyes had a new, unreadable look in them.
“’M glad yeh came, love, really. ’S been too long.” Harry gently tucked some of your hair behind your ear and out of your face, his throat bobbing as he swallowed. Your tummy flipped when you watched his eyes dart quickly to your lips. If only he would just lean a little closer…..
“Harry? Y/N?” The pair of you jumped at Jeff’s voice calling through the house, your cheeks heating as Harry scratched the back of his neck.
“Yeh, um…get unpacked and settled, yeah? I think everyone wants t'go out t'night, yeh should go.” Harry turned to leave, his shoulders a little tense, and you frowned.
“Are you not going?” His head turned to look at you over his shoulder and he offered a small smile.
“Yeh know me, love; partying isn’t m'thing, is it?” Then he was out the door, leaving you to mull over going out or not.
Two hours later, everyone but you and Harry filed out of the house, taking all of the loud noise and talking with them. Harry’d taken to sitting by the dining table, a guitar in his hands and a glass of wine sitting in front of him as he strummed quietly.
“Mind if I join you?” His eyes flew to you, his lips curling into a smile. A large hand tunneled through his hair as he looked you over, taking in your pajama shorts and loose tank top. You could’ve sworn a flash of desire sparked in his eyes.
“Not at all. Wine?” He was already pouring you half a glass, sliding it over to you as you took the seat next to him. Thanking him with a nod, you took a sip, your gaze moving to the large windows to admire the view of the beach and beautiful sea beyond it.
“How’s everythin’ in your world? How’s..what’s his name?” You didn’t miss the way his lip curled down in distaste at the mention of your last fling.
“Wouldn’t know. I ended it just after you left…prick was sleeping with two other girls.” A grunt left Harry’s lips as he propped his guitar against the table, his hand coming to rest on your thigh.
“I’m sorry, love. Yeh too good fo’ him anyways.” You shrugged, draining the wine from your glass and setting it back on the table.
“I sure know how to pick them, eh?” A humorless laugh left your lips and Harry frowned, shaking his head.
“’S'alright, pet, he was the one with the problem, not you.” You rolled your head back, still hyper aware of Harry’s warm palm on your thigh, his thumb rubbing soothing circles on your bare skin.
“Where are all the good ones, H? The creeps and arseholes are always the ones I attract. Where are all the men like you?” Harry’s brows rose a little, a ball tightening in his stomach. All he’d wanted to do since you’d gotten off the plane was kiss you until your lips were swollen, and now here you were, asking him where men like him were hiding. He shifted a little closer to you, hand tightening on your thigh.
“Men like me?” The words were quiet, unfocused as Harry watched your throat move as you swallowed.
“You know, men who…are real. Who aren’t afraid to let you know what they want. Men who are loyal, good guys. Where do all of you hide out?” Now you were so close to each other that you could feel his warm breath puffing over your cheek. Harry’s tongue swept along his bottom lip, and you longed to kiss him. His fingers edged under the hem of your shorts, goosebumps raising on your skin.
“’M certainly not hidin’, angel.” A crooked smirk tugged at his lips and then Harry leaned in, his pink lips covering yours. You gasped, and it was enough of a space for his tongue to edge out, sweeping along your top lip as if to ask permission. You eagerly gave him more room to work, your hands going to fist in his white t-shirt as his tongue met yours, tentatively brushing over it. When the first tiny whimper bubbled from your throat, Harry pulled back, his forehead pressing against yours.
“D'yeh wan’ this?” Always so good, that was Harry. So, so good all the time. In response, you stood and leaned over him, taking his jaw in your hands and kissing him hotly. A surprised grunt rumbled through him as his hands grasped your hips, pushing you back as he stood. Your backside met the wall, and you moaned as Harry’s hands began to wander. His fingers worked to push your shirt up and over your head, revealing your tummy and chest to him. He tossed your shirt to the floor and his hands moved to cup your breasts over your bra.
“Harry,” you managed, hips bucking into his, moaning again once you felt the hard length of him pressing against your lower body.
“Yeh wet fo’ me? Hm, angel?” Your bra straps were tugged down your arms, and the clasp was undone before your bra joined your tank top on the floor.
“Yes, yes, I’m so wet.” It was true; your panties had been ruined since his hand first landed on your thigh. A growl left Harry’s lips at your words, his dark eyes dropping to your breasts.
“Jesus, pet. S'pretty.” His tongue lapped over one of your nipples, and you let out a garbled moan, your hands tangling in his hair as he wrapped his lips around your breast. Harry’s hips rutted into yours, desperate for any amount of pressure on his aching cock. Your hand slipped down to slide into his loose shorts, easily finding his cock. He groaned against your skin when you circled your hand around his thick length, enjoying the heavy weight of him. Harry worked to yank down your shorts and panties, lips moving heatedly over your exposed skin.
“Christ, darling, feels s'good.” His breath puffed against your collarbones as he thrusted his hips with each stroke of your hand, moaning each time you thumbed the tip of him. Your free hand went to pull down his shorts, thankful for the fact that he tended to go commando, and your mouth watered at the sight of his fully hard cock. It was flushed and pretty, little pearls of precum already beading on his head. “S'nough, pet,” Harry said darkly, one arm going to brace the wall beside your head and the other moving to grasp your thigh to wrap your leg around his hip. “Yeh ready?” He asked as your fingers twisted in the thin material of his shirt. You nodded as Harry mouthed along your jawline and crowded against you, one hand moving to guide himself into you.
“Big!” You gasped, reveling in the burning stretch that came as he buried himself to the hilt. A low, rumbling groan spread through Harry’s chest, his eyes squeezing shut as your walls clenched around him. His lips closed around your earlobe and he began to thrust, hips rutting into yours with smooth, measured strokes. You were so tight and warm around him, taking every inch of him gladly, and Harry was seeing stars by the time a curl of pleasure began to ball in his stomach.
“Yeh feel amazin’, pet…knew yeh would, wanted this fo’ so long.” His neck veins strained as he threw his head back, his words turning into long moans as your walls clenched around him. His thick cock brushed every nerve in you, goading you quickly to your orgasm as his lips lowered to your neck. Harry nibbled at your damp skin, tongue soothing the sting of his bite as you mewled loudly.
“Please, Harry!” You cried, hand slipping up to tug at his hair. Harry growled at the feeling, hips shifting to pound into you. The sound of skin slapping against skin echoed through the otherwise quiet house, and you thanked whoever was watching out for you for sending your friends out of the house for the night.
“Can yeh feel me all up in yeh?” Harry’s hand circled your wrist and led it to rest on your lower belly, where he pressed it down until you could feel the tip of him brushing your walls. A loud moan ripped through you. Filthy. He was absolutely filthy with you, and you couldn’t help the garbled half-sentences that fell from your lips as his fingers went to circle your clit.
“Close! So close, baby, please.” Your voice was strangled as you fought for a decent breath, your throat dry from crying out. Harry’s lips covered yours, swallowing your moans and shouts as he moved faster, his cock beginning to twitch inside of you. The kiss was just as filthy as his words, sloppy and wet, all tongue meeting tongue and lips smacking against lips. Your hands fisted tighter in his shirt and hair as you barreled towards your orgasm, back arching.
“Yeh gonna cum fo’ me? Gonna b'good, pet?” Harry’s tongue licked down your throat and you screwed your eyes shut as he sucked a nipple into his mouth.
“Yes! Yes, I’ll be good, please, please, Harry. I’m so close,” you cried, head rolling back against the wall. Harry grunted in response, the vein that wrapped along the underside of him pulsing with pleasure as he neared his edge.
“Cum,” he puffed against your breast, “cum fo’ me. C'mon, angel, give it t'me.” Your mouth parted in a silent moan as your orgasm broke over you, white flooding your vision. Harry was quick to follow, spurting hot, sticky ropes of his seed deep inside of you. Sweat coated the both of you, and the Jamaican air wasn’t helping, almost suffocatingly hot as you fought for breaths. Harry’s head rested against your collarbones, his softening length still nestled inside of you. You pressed short kisses to his hairline, trembling still, and Harry huffed out a laugh.
“Well tha’s one way t’ welcome yeh.” You let out a shaky laugh as he withdrew, hands coming to cup your cheeks. “’Ve wanted yeh fo’ s'long, love.” A sweet, chaste kiss was pressed to your mouth and you smiled sleepily at him, running a hand through his messy hair.
“Now you’ve got me.” You replied. Harry’s response was a wicked, promising smirk that made heat coil in your belly again.
“C'mon, pet, there’s a king-sized bed with silk sheets that I need t’ see yeh writhing against.” And writhe you did.

It’s kind of her to have referenced me as an influence…ultimately, I bet we’re probably just two people cut from the same cloth. I’m influenced by her. I think one of her secret weapons is how unconventional she is. In my case, it’s probably something that holds me back. It makes me more left of center. But somehow, she brings the center to that. She’s a great writer, and a great musician, and has been a great friend to me. I get really angry when people pick on her. I know a lot of superstars — remember, I’m not one, but I know a lot of them. And she is the most normal superstar I’ve ever met in my life. I think that says everything you need to know about Taylor Swift. When people come up just a little bit after you and say you were important to them? It doesn’t matter if they’re a superstar, or it’s somebody who comes and says hello to you while you’re standing at the merch table and says, ‘Hey, I started playing guitar because of this song you wrote.’ It’s an incredibly fulfilling, yet humbling thing to hear.
—  Chris Carraba of Dashboard Confessional talking about Taylor
for you pt. 5 [M]

Pairing: Taehyung x Reader

Genre: Badboy!Taehyung, angst, implied smut

Word Count: 5.1k-ish

Originally posted by vminv

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9

“I think I understand how you felt when we had dinner with my friends.” you confessed as you checked yourself in the mirror one last time.

“What do you mean?” Taehyung called out from where he was tuning his guitar on the couch.

“I’m the first person you’re bringing home to meet your mom. Do you know how much pressure that is?” you choked out as you ran your fingers through your hair one last time.

Taehyung set the guitar down on the coffee table and walked over to where you were fussing with your clothes. He took your hands off of your frame and held them in his hands, “You are going to be just fine. I think my mom is going to love you more than I do”

Your head snapped up to stare at Taehyung as you took in words. His cheeks immediately went to the deepest shade of red you have ever seen. “What did you say?” you asked in disbelief.

Taehyung shook his head, “I-I-I-It slipped out. I didn’t mean it like that. I just, ah, fuck” You watched as he became more and more flustered with each passing second and you couldn’t help but laugh. “It’s not funny.” he pouted as you tried your best to stifle your giggles.

You gently ran your finger along his cheekbone, and smiled, “Do you? Love me?” you asked quietly as Taehyung pulled your into him.

He pressed his forehead against yours as he took deep breaths, preparing himself to speak those words probably for the first time in his life to someone other than his mother, “I do. I love you, Y/N”

A smile spread across your face as you took in his words. You wanted to bask in them as much as you could and you wished that you could replay this moment over and over again, “I love you too, Kim Taehyung” you whispered, pressing your lips against his. You could feel the relief spread throughout his body as the two of you kissed in the hallway.

Keep reading

Well you guys are in for a surprise here. @joshdunslipring and I are working on a collab all based around vampire/business man Brendon. Here is your first part <3

Brendon downs the small glass of whiskey in his hand, the ice clinking softly as he lowers the glass back down to the bar, his eyes scan the room, he loves owning the casino, but he hated these big fancy parties. Some big business awards had been held in the arena at the casino, meaning that, naturally, the after party was being held in the main casino, the whole thing, closed down and reserved for the award ceremonies’ attendants.

Half of the attendants in question were stuffy, middle aged businessmen and millionaires, all with either their trophy wives, some even had women who were blatantly escorts, hanging off of their arms and laughing at their terrible jokes. The other half of the room, well that’s a little more complicated, the other half were vampires, not the kind you see in the movies, that sleep in coffins and live in manor houses in the wilderness, relatively normal people, if you discount the blood drinking. The money and success of his business were incredible, he could do what he wanted, look after his family, owned several properties, jetting away whenever he saw fit to whatever exotic place he pleased. But this culture wasn’t his scene at all, for a start, he’s far younger than most of these people, as well as not being a total, business minded drone, he liked to have fun and enjoy himself.

He was just got free of a very long winded, very boring conversation about the current market, feeling the cold whiskey in his glass leave that pleasant warmth in his throat, scanning the room for anyone who might be a little more interesting to talk to. His eyes finally fall on you, standing on the other side of the bar, clad in a floor length deep red dress, the top lacey and slim fitted and the back dipping low, exposing most of your back, the skirt of the dress flowing gracefully. He tries to pull his eyes away but can’t, the way your hair falls around your shoulders and the deep red lipstick on your lips matches your dress so perfectly. Unable to refrain any longer, he saunters over to you gracefully, leaning on the bar next to you.

“What’ll you have ma’am.” The bartender spoke politely, standing in front of you.

“Anything with your best whiskey in it.” You say with a little smile, Brendon’s eyebrow cocks a little, pulling his lip between his teeth.

“My man here, makes a wonderful Manhattan.” He speaks up, making you turn your head to face him and damn he’s even more attracted to you up close.

“Is that so? I guess I’ll have to try it then.” You say with a little smirk, leaning forward on the bar and reaching into your purse to get some money.

“No need, darlin’ I’ve got this. Charlie put all of this gorgeous womans’ drinks on me.” He winks, lips lifting into a grin that is far too attractive for his own good, there’s some kind of vibe to him that you can’t quite put your finger on.

“I can buy my own drinks.” You try to insist but he waves it off.

“I’m sure you can, sweetie, but I’m happy to buy drinks for a girl who can appreciate a good whiskey.” He bites his lip, pressing just a little closer and you can’t fight the blush that creeps into your cheeks. “I’m…”

“Brendon Urie, I know, I’m Y/N.” You smile and take the drink from the bartender as it’s handed to you, taking a little sip and smiling approvingly.

“You know who I am? Pretty name for a pretty girl though.” A small smirk forms on his face.

“Yeah, I know, I think everyone in this room knows who you are.” You giggle again, drumming your fingers on the bar.

“So what’re you doing here all alone?” Brendon keeps his eyes on you, watching you intently as you sip your drink some more.

“I’m not ‘all alone’ I’m here with my dad, but he’s far too busy getting drunk and getting a boner over business talk.” Your lips quirk a little when Brendon chuckles, running a hand through his thick black hair.

“No father should leave his beautiful daughter unattended in a casino full or men with questionable morals.” You try desperately not to let the smooth tone of his voice affect you, but find yourself inescapably drawn to him, he’s handsome and charming.

“Oh? And I suppose you’re the one with golden intention here to save me? Because, quite frankly, I’ve had enough of being leered at by either creepy old men or men that want to suck my blood and drag me off into the night.” You smile playfully as you sass him, watching the broad, slick smirk that forms on his lips, his eyebrow cocking up.

“And how would you know about these bloodsuckers, pretty girl.” He practically purrs, playing at baring his teeth and hissing, the smirk on his face only getting wider when you giggle.

“Dad does business with them, you get used to it. Stop side tracking, you didn’t answer my question, ARE you the one with golden intentions? Because I’m certain you’re not,” you chew your lip a little as you speak, drawing his eyes to them, biting his right back at you.

“I can promise you’d I’d respect you a lot more than most of these men.” He offers an arm out, smiling and nodding towards a more secluded table nearby. You hesitate for a second, before thinking, you studied for 5 years away for college, not giving yourself any time to have fun or flirt or enjoy yourself, so why not? He’s gorgeous, that’s for sure, all dark, chocolate brown eyes and ebony hair, lips that are killing you already, killer cheekbones and jawline and his suit is another story, matte black with a floral type pattern in a shinier black. Yeah, he’s fucking gorgeous.

“Lead the way, Urie.” You slip your hand onto his arm and pick your drink up, letting him lead you to the little table, being the perfect gentleman of course and pulling out your chair for you.

“So, tell me more about yourself, sweetheart.” He offers, resting his elbows on the table and leaning closer, silently imploring you to speak.

“What do you want to know? I’m certain I’m not as exciting as some of the gorgeous, model type girls you get hanging around you.” You chuckle, toying with the little stirrer in your drink, he chuckles wholeheartedly back.

“That’s where you’re wrong, see, you get good at reading people in this business darlin’ and those girls, all gold diggers, they’re only in it for my money and the reputation of hanging off of my arm. Whereas you, far from it, you’re an intelligent girl, I can tell, know how to handle yourself, and actually isn’t interested in my money. So, tell me about yourself, how old are you, did you go to college, what’re you interests, ya know, usual stuff babe.” He finishes his little speech, sitting back in his seat and smiling.

“Fine, I’m 24, nearly 25, just finished college, I studied biochemistry and genetics for 3 years.” You start but he raises his hand.

“Hold on, you studied biochemistry and genetics? That’s incredible, I was right about you being intelligent then.” He smiles and you can’t help but blush, especially when he leans a little closer to tease, “and I can promise you, intelligence is extremely sexy. So tell me more angel. What gets a pretty girl like you, who doesn’t have to study or do anything because your dad is rich, into something like that?”

“I don’t want to be some dumb bimbo who lives off of daddy, simple. I’ve always had a huge interest in genetics, so I decided to try it at college and it just worked out, I loved every second.” You smile fondly, ending up getting caught in a whole, long and very detailed conversation about yourself, talking for what feels like hours about college and your studies and research, ending up discussing just about everything else too, he asks about your interests outside of work, music tastes, favourite colour. Silly things really, but it surprises you how easy he is to talk to, even though you’re both flirting heavily, time passes by like nothing before you finally realise you’ve been talking about yourself for far too long.

“C’mon, Brendon, I’ve been babbling on for hours about myself, tell me about you. Not the boring business stuff, you.” You smile when you see a little sweet smile form on his face, he’s clearly not used to being asked that question.

“Well, I’m 29, I turn 30 in April. I’ve owned the casino for 5 years, took it over from my parents when they passed away, changed up the whole place, new name, new look, managed to do my parents justice by making this place even more successful than it already was.” He smiles sweetly when he mentions his parents, but you giggle and lean closer.

“I said not the businessy stuff, I want to know about you, not your money, not your casino, you.” You insist, a little tipsy by this point. “I wanna know more about the gorgeous man in front of me, is that so wrong?” He chuckles and a very, very slight blush creeping onto his cheeks.

“Well… I’m not used to talking about that stuff, so what do you want to know?” He reaches forward and touches your hand.

“I don’t know, what are you interested in, what’s your favourite colour, favourite band, anything.”

“I love music, I play several instruments and… can even sing, a little I guess, I’ve sang a few times in the bar before.” He blushes harder this time and it’s genuinely adorable.

“What instruments do you play?” You lean close to him, intrigued and happy to see a more human side of him, both of you leaning over the table, dangerously close to him.

“Drums, guitar, bass and piano. I actually have a big grand piano in the suite I have at the top of the hotel.” He drops his voice a little and you shudder, damn his voice is sexy, and his fingers gently trace over the back of your hand.

“You own a suite?” You giggle when he nods and keeps tracing his fingers lightly.

“Darling this is my casino, it made sense to have somewhere to stay here, I am here a lot.” His lips quirk a little and he leans close, lips almost ghosting over yours. “I can show you it if you want angel.” He purrs a little and you squirm in your seat, brushing him off.

“Don’t get too ahead of yourself Urie.” You tease, he hates to admit how much you’ve caught his interest as you chat longer, listening to him open up about his hobbies and life and just himself in general, it’s nice to know that not all millionaires are total assholes.

After sitting at that table for almost two hours, you decide to stretch your legs and explore a little, Brendon offering to give you a tour of the casino, seeing as you’ve never been here before. He shows you round, introducing you to all the different games tables, showing you the roulette wheel.

“Why don’t you have a turn?” He offers, taking his wallet out of his pocket and handing a note over to the guy at the wheel, who promptly hands him a stack of chips. “Here, pick a number, or a colour, and have some fun.”

“Brendon, you don’t have to do that, I have money.” You try to argue but he shrugs and pushes the chips your way anyway, and you give in, placing a stack of them on black 20, purely on a whim, watching intently as the ball spins Brendon’s hand resting very welcomed on your waist, standing close behind you, his warm whiskey tinged breath sending little shivers down your spine, even worse when his hand slips onto the exposed skin on your back. He evidently feels you shudder a little when his fingers and the cold rings on his hand touch your skin because he leans closer.

“What’s the matter, sweetheart, you liking the way my hand feels?” He murmurs, low and gravelly, eyes fixed on your as he trails his fingertips up your spine from the small of your back to the between your shoulders and back down, light enough to bring out the goose pimples on your body.

“Oh my god…” You whisper, leaning into his touch, trying to remain focused but he’s driving you insane.

“Black 20.” The guy at the table suddenly calls, snapping you out of the Brendon induced haze you were in.

“Look at that, lucky girl, I’ll have to keep you around during my poker games.” Brendon smirks, repeating that same stroking motion with his fingers as he pushes the chips back to the him. Moving his hand away he takes your hand again, pulling you back down to earth as he shows you the section where several games of poker are being played.

“And my favourite game.” He says playfully, pulling you close to tease again. “Hello? You there, or are you busy thinking of what else my hands might feel nice doing?” He teases and you manage to snap out of it finally.

“No, actually, I was just thinking about how bad at poker you probably are.” You sass back and he scoffs.

“I could take any player at those tables.” He says, so self-assured and grinning widely.

“Pffft, sure ya can Bren.” You scoff, giggling a little as he pouts. “Put your money where your mouth is.”

“Yeah? I bet you, I can walk onto any of those poker tables and win.” He smirks, folding his arms over his chest and looking down at you, a look of determination sparking in his eyes.

“Oh yeah? And what do I win when you lose?” You speak confidently, almost certain that he cannot be as good as his ego tells him he is.

“Anything your little heart desires, angel.” You’re caught off guard, unable to actually think of something to wager against him, after standing embarrassingly stumped and silent for a time you finally clear your throat.

“Dinner, somewhere I choose, at a time I choose.” You wager, but his lips lift into a smile.

“Dinner with you? That’s hardly loosing, Y/N. But deal, if I lose, I’ll take you to dinner, anywhere you want.” He chuckles and presses closer, fingers toying with a strange if hair hanging above your chest. “Now, if I win…” he trails off, lip pulling between his teeth, making your heart race. “I think you should come see my suite with me after this lovely party ends.”

“Deal.” You say quickly, which seems to catch him off guard until you lean closer to tease, “If all I have to do is look at your suite, that’s fine with me.”

“Darlin, I’m certain I can convince you to stay a while.” He practically purrs.

“Don’t be so sure of yourself.” You scold, giggling when he raises his arms in a dramatic apology, taking your hand in his and pulling you towards the poker tables, he insists that you pick the table, so that you can be certain he’s not trying to cheat, you pick one with a few people you recognise, your dad’s friends, if he wants a challenge he can have one. With a quick nod he pulls you towards the table.

“It’s fine, I’ll leave you to play.” You try to insist but he just smirks and tugs you a little closer.

“C'mon, come watch daddy play poker, kitten.” He pulls his bottom lip between his teeth once again, watching the bright red blush creep onto your cheeks at his little comment, tugging you towards the poker table and down into the chair directly next to him, admiring how much classier you look than most of the women on the others men’s arms look. You can’t help but observe the stunned looks on all of their faces as he sits. “Evening gents, you won’t mind if I join you for a game?” You hear plenty of stammered no Mr Urie’s over and it’s plain to see these ditzy girls eyeing him like he’s a cold drink in a desert.

What a prize a man like him must be to women like them.

He remains incredibly focused through the poker game, maintaining the odd bit of contact with you, his hand resting on your thigh every so often it toying with your hand. You were actually pretty impressed watching him, he had an amazing poker face and when it came down to the end of the game he did nothing but announce that he was all in, sitting back and watching the puzzles faces as they tried to figure out if he was bluffing.

He leant closer to whisper, “Shall I get some champagne sent up to my room darlin? Would be a shame if you didn’t at least stay for a drink.” His attention was snapped back to the table when someone claimed he was bluffing, his eyebrow cocking in a devilishly attractive way, shrugging like he had no idea. “I don’t know, that’s for you to find out.” he offers, smirking at the puzzled look he was getting. The last person in the game except him, layed down his 5 cards, a flush from the 4 to the 8 of spades, sitting back and relaxing like he’d just won the game. Brendon however had other ideas, a cocky, half smile forming on his lips as he laid his cards, which he’d kept hidden, even from you this whole time, a royal flush, hearts of course.

“Good game, gents, you can keep your money, just playing for fun.” With that he stands and offers his hand out to you, helping you up and grinning. “Guess I’ll get to show you that suite after all. Let’s get another drink, shall we?”

“I only have to see the suite, I didn’t say anything about staying for long.” You sass back, letting him guide you around the outside of the casino, through the crowds of people towards the bar.

“Awh, darlin’ there’s gonna be a beautiful bottle of champagne there when we get there, you’d make me drink that all on my own?” He pouts, sticking out those thick lips a little so you find yourself staring a little because he looks so good.

“Don’t get your hopes up.” You tease and send a little teasing smirk his way. “I don’t think you could keep up with me anyway.” You wink and bite your lip and finally he’s had enough of the flirting, spotting a door leading to the much quieter corridor outside of the bar, eyes darkening as he pulls you out of the door, swiftly pinning you between the wall and his hips.

“God you’re a little tease, you know that?” He growls, crashing his lips down against yours, hands finding your hips, you can’t stop yourself melting into his touch, hands moving up to his shoulders and gripping his collar. You’re a little embarrassed by the whines you start to let out as his tongue works against yours, moving your hands up into his hair, tugging gently and hearing a low growl from his chest. He presses you back against the wall harder, pulling his lips away from your mouth to kiss down your jaw, gently nipping and sucking at your jaw and neck, hands sliding down onto your ass.

“Jesus… Brendon…” You moan, letting your head drop back against the wall, letting him pull your against him, pressing his hips forward, evidently hard in his smart pants. “Oh my god, please.” You whine and it’s totally involuntary, only realising you’ve just begged for him after it’s already done, and it just makes a huge, cocky smirk forming on his perfect face, despite looking just as flustered as you, pupils blown and hair a little less perfect than it was 5 minutes ago as he leans close to kiss just under your ear.

“Not here, baby girl,” He purrs, low and gravelly, nipping your earlobe, “Guess you’ll be wanting to share that champagne with me too huh?” He teases and steps back from you, neatening up his suit jacket and hair, leaving you flustered against the wall. “C’mon, babe, let’s get back, don’t want to be missing for too long.” Offering out an arm to you, he smiles almost innocently, chuckling when you grumble a little.

“Fucking tease.” You huff, slipping your hand onto his arm, both of you slipping back into the party unnoticed, hoping no one notices the puffy lips and red flushes on both of you, striding over to the bar.

“Another drink, sweetie?” He smiles and leans on the bar, standing facing you as he wait for a bartender and just as you’re about to speak up a voice disturbs you both.

“Ah, Brendon! I see you’ve met my daughter?”

Just got to do some woodworking for the first time in a long while, and I am once again reminded of why I enjoy my favorite type of word to work with: Purpleheart.

Why’s it called purpleheart?

Muthafuckin’ purple wood. How cool is that? It’s brown when you cut it, but due to oxidization, eventually turns to a beautiful purple color. (if you don’t seal it at this stage, it’ll eventually turn red, I believe, which is still pretty, but you buy purpleheart for purple, damnit!)

And everything you make with it turns out amazing.

Purple floors?

Nice.

Purple stairs?

Fancy.

Purple table?

Sweet.

Purple guitar?

Awesome.

Purple whatever the hell is going on here?

Epic.

It’s just such a cool wood to work with, and it’s sturdy enough to be used for just about anything. If I ever get a house, half of it might just end up being made out of purpleheart.

Anyway, that’s enough nerdery for one post. I will now return to reblogging stupid pictures and recipes.

Wild Child ~Winchester Sister~

Summary: Your two older brothers let you go out to a party but you miss curfew         and the get a call saying your miles past drunk. They come pick you up. 

Warnings: Heavy consumption of alcohol by the reader. 

Pairings: Sister!reader with both Sam and Dean

Author’s Note: 2 more coming your way! Daryl Dixon and Barry Allen :) 



You flinched slightly as someone slung a hand over your shoulder. You couldn’t help but burst out laughing at the senior who exclaimed something not quite audible over the loud music. 

“Drink up!” he yelled in your ear and you laughed plucking the red cup out of his hand and in one swig the contents were gone burning their way down your throat. He stood back and cheered before running off leaving you laughing. 

More alcohol. That is what you needed. You snaked through people making out and individuals who were basically having sex standing up something they would call ‘dancing’. You slipped into the kitchen and grabbed the whiskey bottle that stood on the counter. 

“This i’ll do!’ you exclaimed loudly surprising yourself. Dean and Sam were going to be furious.  

“Hey!” someone called and you turned seeing the girl who invited you to the party- Mary? Anyway this was extremely kind of her as you were a travelling teenager that barely stayed in one school longer than a month. You never got invited to such things as you never stayed long enough to make new friends. 

“Gimme me some Y/N!” she slurred. You laughed as you poured her about half a cup. Sam and Dean had reluctantly let you come here but you turned 17 a week ago they felt way to guilty and bad for not allowing you the joys of being a teenager. 

They also attempted the pep talk before and the ‘Under any circumstance if you feel uncomfortable you call us’. If you had to recite the exact words that Dean used. 

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drabble series: monsta x | found

title: found
fandom: monsta x
member/reader: i.m, female
genre/warning(s): smut
summary: Could you please write a Changkyun smut Drabble. His girlfriend is very dominate in life and in the bed room, and one night Changkyun continuously compliments her and seduces her and he takes her to the bedroom where he worships her body

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Scenes from a relationship with Niall #5

You walk in to see Niall sitting in his usual position. He’s sitting on couch with his legs propped up on the table in front, guitar on his lap, a beer bottle on the side table, phone recording on his thigh and the TV playing golf. It was 1 am and he was not really playing the guitar and not really watching TV but somehow doing both aimlessly.

As you walk closer, he hears your footsteps against the wood and looks up surprised. “You’re up?”
“Yeah, I couldn’t sleep”
“Come ‘ere” He coaxes, putting his guitar away.
You sigh, sinking down on the couch next to him and stop the recording on the phone. “Get anything good?”
“Nah, just jamming. Maybe I’ll pick up something in the mornin’”
“Hmmn..” You hum and move closer to him. Niall lifts his arm up to accommodate you and you wrap your arm around his stomach and lean against his chest. You can hear the soft pitter patter of the rain against the window and Niall’s heartbeat all mixed in one and it sounds like pure peace. 

Feeling you shiver slightly, Niall murmurs “Cold, babe? Let me get you a blanket” He starts to get up but you pull him back. “Nooo, I’m fine. Don’t move” “Love, you’ll catch something, I’ll be back in a second” “No!” You look up at him pouting and grab onto him tighter. “Alright then, ya fussy girl” He chuckles and you can feel his body shake against you. He places his palm on your back and starts to rub up and down to get you warmer. 

After what feels like only a second you hear Niall’s voice crack through your consciousness. “Babe? Sorry to wake ya but can we lie down? My neck is stiff as fuck” “Hmnn…I feel asleep?” “Yeah, it’s been around 20 minutes. Let’s lie down, yeah?” You grunt a yes and Niall slides down into the couch, placing himself behind you. Fitting perfectly as you spoon, he places a kiss on the back of your head and whispers “Love ya”. You mumble similar sentiments back as your drift off, thinking nothing you dream would be better than this.

Saying goodbye to my 20s and my birthday wish to all my young hopefuls.

Today I will be saying goodbye to my 20′s. It has never been so clear to me that time is indeed real, and what you do with your time is crucial.

I remember when I turned 20.. actually, I don’t. My memories are blurry when I was young, solely because I choose not to care, because I was 20 and I thought I had all the time in the world. All I knew was that I was young, I was healthy,  I cared only about spending time with my boyfriend (I was determined to get married to him at the age of 21), and that I have to submit my assignment to my legal professor by Monday. Mediocre, and lazy- that was me. At 20, I had no idea that at 9.9 years later I would be in the kitchen of my apartment in the heart of Los Angeles, and writing this, with you in mind. Also at 20, I went to my first indie band rock show, and that changed EVERYTHING. And so, my life lessons began..

At 21, I decided I didn’t want to settle down so soon, I wasn’t ready. I went to an entirely different direction, went into music and discovered that my whole childhood of loving music and singing wasn’t a scam, and I started writing songs of my own.

Me at 20


22 (2008) was when I learned about dignity. I walked into my first record label meeting, sitting across a man, leaning back in his corporate chair telling me I will not go far in the music industry if I
1) kept my headscarves on
2) sang my English songs.
I said no thank you, and proceeded to (with my little knowledge of Company law that I learned in school) start my own company called Yuna Room Records, with my 22 year old cousin, Wawa. We still run this company today. Also this year, I got interviewed for the very first time by my favorite music magazine at the time, Junk, by my all time fav person today, Didi Ramlan.

Young Yuna with bandmates Efry, Paan, Adil.


22 was also when I learned that quality is key. I wrote a song called Dan Sebenarnya, and was willing to let the rough recording of it live forever. Turns out I was wrong, radio wouldn’t play my music because of the crappy quality. I went to get a RM1000(about USD$200) loan from my dad, went to a professional recording studio, to record an EP so the radios will stop saying no to my song.

My bedroom in university. You can see my passion for photography and a photo of me performing my first show with a guitar on the wall, and my law notes sprawled across the table as I stay up studying.


23 (2009) I learned how to manage my financials. I received my first royalty paycheck in the mail, and when I opened it I had to sit down and made sure if it was meant for me, and remember thinking if I deserved all of it. Dan Sebenarnya EP was being downloaded almost 100,000 times a month, my first paycheck was almost RM30k. Too much. I paid off my dad’s loan, split it with my bandmates who helped recording it in the studio with me, and started my savings account and learned how to pay tax. I also graduated from legal studies this year.

With friends from law school. Already you can tell I’m out of place.


24 (2010) I learned that even if I thought I worked really hard for something, second place is a good place to be. I competed in my first national tv music award show performing my song, and lost to a very talented young man who I am now close friends with Aizat Amdan. Sometimes you have to know that some things are just not meant for you. That night, I didn’t get an award, but I got a wonderful friend that I can depend on forever. 2 years later, I got an award that was taken away from me, but because of this incident, I had already learned how to not care so much about awards. Awards do not define you. I also graduated this year, earning my degree in legal studies. Finally!

25. (2011) I learned to take a leap of faith. I went to America with a small bag and a big dream. I was a shy foreigner, I was alone and I was a little bit scared. But, I knew that if I don’t start talking, I will not go anywhere. Being awkward and shy is a waste of time, I learned. The more you want to talk to people, the more respectful you are, the more you will learn.

I learned that you are the only person who can sabotage yourself. When people say you can’t, the only person who can prove them wrong is yourself.

Pharell and I, 2011.

My very first apartment in Los Angeles. I remember every dollar i made from work was to pay for this rent.. I ate a lot of instant noodles and shopped at dollar stores. My furnitures (and one piano that I still have) were all hand-me-downs from my friend, Niles (now a big time DJ, KSHMR!)


26. (2012) I learned how to travel and perform at the same time. I was in different cities everyday, performing every night. Something I didn’t know I could do. I saw people from all races showing up at my show, a diversity and I learned to loved them all, something I didn’t know existed. All my ignorance and stereotypes melted away just from traveling across America. I also learned about loyalty, and the meaning of friendship. Didi, Faiz, Lincoln formed this experience together with me and I will never forget it.

Faiz, Didi and Lincoln, us on the road, across the country for a month in 2012.


Lollapalooza 2013.


27.(2013) I learned about the REAL treasures in life. That your parents are the true treasure that you will never find anywhere else, at any point of your life.  That breaking their hearts is never an option for as long as you live. 

My last moments with my late grandfather. I miss him so much.


28.(2014)  I learned that money is not everything. You can make millions, but you can’t buy happiness. Money will not save lives. I tried my best to save my uncle or my grandfather from their sickness with whatever money I had, and I lost this battle. God saves lives, and he takes them at His will. You can plan, but He is the best planner.

I learned that fame is not everything. You can have millions of followers, a few friends who thinks you’re awesome, but you can still feel very alone. Being liked, or dislike, does not give you infinite happiness. I also learned the horrible truth that for some, fame and money is everything.Time is the best gift you can give to your loved ones.

I learned that physical beauty of a person means nothing. We are all flawed. I am flawed. I learned how to see people’s hearts and hoping that my heart is worth seeing. I learned that being in love is not everything. I learned how to piece myself back together slowly after someone has broken every fragile part of me. I learned that the person you spend your time with can either bring the best out of you, or unleash a monster inside of you. People come into your life to teach you valuable lessons, and you have to learn from it. I learned that if you lose someone, it doesn’t mean its because you’re not worth it. It just means you’re growing. How you rise above this, will be your life’s best victory.

29,(2015-today) this is my favorite year. I learned to let go, and learned to realize that if you don’t love yourself, you can’t love someone else. I learned that I was not entirely healthy, and decided to take care of myself better before it’s too late.

I learned that you can find love in the calmness of being in someone’s presence. Never disrupt that calmness. ‘Don’t be an idiot’, I tell myself, ‘Don’t screw this up!’

I learned to stop caring what people have to say about me, because of the simple reason being- they have no clue what’s going on. They don’t deserve a space in my thought process. I learned about having the courage to be me. I learned the hard way, that there are givers, and takers. There are people who are here to take advantage of me and use me, and I have to walk away from them. I learned to shut doors to people who sees life in a negative way without any second guesses. I learned how to say no when people try to take away the best qualities that I’ve taken all these years to shape. I learned how to sever ties with people who drain my energy. I learned how to fight for my identity. I learned how to fight for my life and the lives of people that I care about. Most importantly, after all these years of thinking I should be this and that, I want this, I want that, .. blablabla. I learned one important thing - its not about me. It’s about how can I contribute to make the world a better place.

Al-fatihah for Aina.

On my 30th birthday, I don’t need gifts. I just wish for my young fans to not waste their time. Know that your time is yours, but it’s not yours. If you are in your 20′s, spend your time wisely. Go have fun, you’re young, but don’t forget to contribute your energy, you’re young. Time flies, but take your time learning. Make mistakes, but learn from them. Don’t try to grow up too fast, stay in your zone and be present as much as you can. Remember, you are so much more than what people say about you. People rush you into doing things.. but ask yourself what do YOU want? Go and live life fully, learn as much as you can. Achieve greatness and bring out greatness in others as well. Be aware of whats happening in the world, not just yours. Learn to see whats on the other side, and try not to settle in what your setup has been set up for you. 

Be woke. Be intelligent. Be there for the people who need you. Keep your head up and be confident, but know when to keep your head down and be humble. Never underestimate what your heart tells you. It’s okay to be wrong, its okay to fail and know that you are flawed, and life will prove this to you again and again. Know that you will rise, again and again. Being flawless comes after you learned that you can accept your flaws and not giving up doing something beautiful for the world.

Happy birthday to me and to you, here’s to us, who will see today as Day 1.

Ed Sheeran: Up All Night With Pop's Hardcore Troubadour | Full Rolling Stone Interview

“Let’s go to my place for the finale!” Ed Sheeran shouts as he hops into an SUV. It’s just after midnight in London. Sheeran spent much of the evening in a bar, but even with his bright-red hair hidden under a ball cap, people started to recognize him. The DJ played one of his songs, and his friends had to create a wall around him so he could drink in peace. It all made him a little anxious, which is why we’re speeding to his West London home to keep the party going.

Sheeran is celebrating tonight because he knows he’s about to score his first Number One hit in America with “Shape of You,” a sleek, funky stomper from his new album, ÷ (pronounced Divide). We’re joined by his girlfriend, Cherry, and his old friends Zack, Nathan and Catherine, who have been watching him perform since he released his first album, The Spinning Man, when he was 13. “I went plywood,” Sheeran, now 25, jokes about that LP. “Not gold. I sold 100 copies.”

Sheeran has been going hard tonight: espresso martinis and rum-punch shots at dinner, gin and tonics at the bar. It’s my birthday, and at one point he grabs my phone, takes a selfie of us and posts to my Instagram, writing “It’s my birthday bitches #london #hashtag #believe #achieve #inspiration.” He encourages friends to knock back pints with a drinking song that ends “Na na na na/Hey hey hey/You’re a cunt!”

Soon, we arrive at his house, a five-floor, industrial-style space with brick walls, wood floors and several personal touches: a Charmander Pokémon stuffed animal in his bedroom and a bong shaped like Benny Blanco’s head in the living room. There’s also a recording studio, a gym and a full bar, where he recently entertained several young cast members of his favorite show, Game of Thrones. As we arrive, Sheeran offers bedrooms to anyone who wants to “get rowdy,” then goes to work mixing drinks.

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The first boy you fall in love with is the starting quarterback. His blonde locks grace the top of his head like a halo and other girl’s mouths involuntarily drop when he walks by, and yet he chooses you. After the football games you get into his rusty pickup truck, but he doesn’t drive you home; always his house first. You say nothing when his hands go too far up your skirt and when his team loses he gets angry, really angry, and you might leave his house with a bruise or two but it’s okay because you love him, right? You were only sixteen.
The second boy you fall in love with smokes cigarettes and wears old leather jackets. He listens to classic rock on a stolen record player in his room with black walls. His fingers strum the chords of that angry electric guitar as you watch from a table in the back of the bar. He thinks he knows everything about the world, everything about you, but he really only talks about himself. He’s mysterious and confusing and yet you think maybe he’s the one. You utter I love you in the darkness of his room one night, but he pretends not to hear. You were seventeen.
The third boy you fall in love with reads alone in the library during lunch and twiddles his thumbs when he asks you out after chemistry class. He comes to your house that night with roses and introduces himself to your father with a shaky voice. He brings you to a movie and takes an hour to muster up the courage to hold your hand. His warm fingers intertwine with yours and suddenly it’s bliss. He walks you to your doorstep and after a terribly awkward silence, he leans in and places an innocent peck on your lips. Overtime, he makes you realize you were never really in love, not until him. You’re eighteen, and you finally got it right.
—  hard to know what love is when you’ve never really had it