i laughed my duck

The Lady of Shallots, John William Waterhouse, 1888, oil on canvas (with slight modern additions).

I just made an art history/produce pun, which means the potential audience is like, one person. and that person is me. 

  • Nino: ok wait I have an idea
  • Nino: you gotta call out 'babe!' and see who looks up
  • Nino: I'll go first
  • Nino: BABE!
  • Adrien: lmao nobody even flinched
  • Nino: you try then
  • Adrien: I will
  • Adrien: BABE!
  • Nathanel: what?
  • Marinette: yeah?
  • Chloe: you called?
  • Nino: what the fu
I stirred at last from a deep, contented stupor, lifting my hand to lay it over the spot where his pulse beat slow and strong, just at the base of his breastbone.

“It’s like bicycle riding, I expect,” I said. My head rested peacefully in the curve of his shoulder, my hand idly playing with the red-gold curls that sprang up in thickets across his chest. “Did you know you’ve got lots more hairs on your chest than you used to?” 

“No,” he said drowsily, “I dinna usually count them. Have bye-sickles got lots of hair, then?” 

It caught me by surprise, and I laughed. 

“No,” I said. “I just meant that we seemed to recall what to do all right.” 

Jamie opened one eye and looked down at me consideringly. “It would take a real daftie to forget that, Sassenach,” he said. “I may be lacking practice, but I havena lost all my faculties yet.” 

We were still for a long time, aware of each other’s breathing, sensitive to each small twitch and shifting of position. We fitted well together, my head curled into the hollow of his shoulder, the territory of his body warm under my hand, both strange and familiar, awaiting rediscovery. 

The building was a solid one, and the sound of the storm outside drowned most noises from within, but now and then the sounds of feet or voices were dimly audible below us; a low, masculine laugh, or the higher voice of a woman, raised in professional flirtation. 

Hearing it, Jamie stirred a little uncomfortably. 

“I should maybe have taken ye to a tavern,” he said. “It’s only—” 

“It’s all right,” I assured him. “Though I must say, of all the places I’d imagined being with you again, I somehow never thought of a brothel.” I hesitated, not wanting to pry, but curiosity got the best of me. “You … er … don’t own this place, do you, Jamie?” 

He pulled back a little, staring down at me. 

“Me? God in heaven, Sassenach, what d’ye think I am?” 

“Well, I don’t know, do I?” I pointed out, with some asperity. “The first thing you do when I find you is faint, and as soon as I’ve got you back on your feet, you get me assaulted in a pub and chased through Edinburgh in company with a deviant Chinese, ending up in a brothel—whose madam seems to be on awfully familiar terms with you, I might add.” The tips of his ears had gone pink, and he seemed to be struggling between laughter and indignation. 

“You then take off your clothes, announce that you’re a terrible person with a depraved past, and take me to bed. What did you expect me to think?” 

Laughter won out. 

“Well, I’m no a saint, Sassenach,” he said. “But I’m no a pimp, either.” 

“Glad to hear it,” I said. There was a momentary pause, and then I said, “Do you mean to tell me what you are, or shall I go on running down the disreputable possibilities until I come close?” 

“Oh, aye?” he said, entertained by this suggestion. “What’s your best guess?” 

I looked him over carefully. He lay at ease amid the tumbled sheets, one arm behind his head, grinning at me. 

“Well, I’d bet my shift you’re not a printer,” I said. 

The grin widened. 

“Why not?” 

I poked him rudely in the ribs. “You’re much too fit. Most men in their forties have begun to go soft round the middle, and you haven’t a spare ounce on you.” 

“That’s mostly because I havena got anyone to cook for me,” he said ruefully. “If you ate in taverns all the time, ye wouldna be fat, either. Luckily, it looks as though ye eat regularly.” He patted my bottom familiarly, and then ducked, laughing, as I slapped at his hand. 

“Don’t try to distract me,” I said, resuming my dignity. “At any rate, you didn’t get muscles like that slaving over a printing press.” 

“Ever tried to work one, Sassenach?” He raised a derisive eyebrow. 

“No.” I furrowed my brow in thought. “I don’t suppose you’ve taken up highway robbery?” 

“No,” he said, the grin widening. “Guess again.” 

“Embezzlement.” 

“No.” 

“Well, likely not kidnapping for ransom,” I said, and began to tick other possibilities off on my fingers. “Petty thievery? No. Piracy? No, you couldn’t possibly, unless you’ve got over being seasick. Usury? Hardly.” I dropped my hand and stared at him. 

“You were a traitor when I last knew you, but that scarcely seems a good way of making a living.” 

“Oh, I’m still a traitor,” he assured me. “I just havena been convicted lately.” 

Lately?” 

“I spent several years in prison for treason, Sassenach,” he said, rather grimly. “For the Rising. But that was some time back.” 

“Yes, I knew that.” His eyes widened. 

“Ye knew that?” 

“That and a bit more,” I said. “I’ll tell you later. But putting that all aside for the present and returning to the point at issue—what do you do for a living these days?” 

“I’m a printer,” he said, grinning widely. 

And a traitor?” 

“And a traitor,” he confirmed, nodding. “I’ve been arrested for sedition six times in the last two years, and had my premises seized twice, but the court wasna able to prove anything.” 

“And what happens to you if they do prove it, one of these times?” 

“Oh,” he said airily, waving his free hand in the air, “the pillory. Earnailing. Flogging. Imprisonment. Transportation. That sort of thing. Likely not hanging.” 

“What a relief,” I said dryly. I felt a trifle hollow. I hadn’t even tried to imagine what his life might be like, if I found him. Now that I had, I was a little taken aback. 

“I did warn ye,” he said. The teasing was gone now, and the dark blue eyes were serious and watchful. 

“You did,” I said, and took a deep breath. 

“Do ye want to leave now?” He spoke casually enough, but I saw his fingers clench and tighten on a fold of the quilt, so that the knuckles stood out white against the sunbronzed skin. 

“No,” I said. I smiled at him, as best I could manage. “I didn’t come back just to make love with you once. I came to be with you—if you’ll have me,” I ended, a little hesitantly. 

“If I’ll have you!” He let out the breath he had been holding, and sat up to face me, cross-legged on the bed. He reached out and took my hands, engulfing them between his own. 

“I—canna even say what I felt when I touched you today, Sassenach, and knew ye to be real,” he said. His eyes traveled over me, and I felt the heat of him, yearning, and my own heat, melting toward him. “To find you again—and then to lose ye …” He stopped, throat working as he swallowed. 

I touched his face, tracing the fine, clean line of cheekbone and jaw. 

“You won’t lose me,” I said. “Not ever again.” I smiled, smoothing back the thick ruff of ruddy hair behind his ear. “Not even if I find out you’ve been committing bigamy and public drunkenness.”

5

(( a continuation of this))

“All of you are so kind!”

“I…I dont know what else to say… or what to do….”

“thank you…”

@amberalting @ask-treats-sweets @ask-zebusharp-and-others @little-sn0w-berry

Who Are The Wolves In Your Head?

AN: This is just a snippet of something that I’ve been working on forever. It’s been something I’ve left and then come back to several times. I was reading over this section and thought you guys might like a little sneaky peaky. So here it is, and I hope you like it.

Word count: 700

Originally posted by stilinski-sister

The moaning turned into heart wrenching groans, strangled and hoarse. Sweat beaded down his forehead and on to his soaked pillow, while his fingers clawed into the thin sheets of the bed. He was clenching his teeth so hard that they began to grind against each other, making an unbearable low creaking sound that sent my own teeth on edge.

I wanted to let him be. I told myself that if I just waited it out, he’d stop before I even needed to get out of bed. But as minutes stretched into hours and groans turned into whimpers, I knew that he needed to be rescued from the terrible nightmare he was in. I flung the covers off me and threw my feet over the side of the bed in one swift swoop. I stood, reaching Stiles after two giant steps. His whole face was contorted into a mangled look of agony that would break anyone’s heart.

“Stiles.” I said lowly, not knowing what would happen if I yelled him awake. He gave no response, his head only shifted slightly away from me.

“Stiles.” I repeated, this time lifting my hand so I could lay it dolefully on his chest. But before I could even touch him, his eyes shot open and his hand gripped my wrist; forcing it to hover inches from him.

His eyes sought out mine, forcing me to stare deep within them. A darkness filled them, something scary and unreal clawing its way through the boy in front of me. But than he blinked, and all at once the darkness disappeared into his pupils leaving the golden brown irises I’d grown accustomed too.

He looked at me like he had no idea how I’d gotten in front of him. His eyes traveled down me, until they met his hand wrapped around my wrist and his brows furrowed in confusion. This was not the same person that was just in front of me seconds earlier. He let go of my wrist abruptly, never taking his eyes off his own hands as they shook ferociously. He let them rest in his lap, watching as if they could morph at any moment.

“How often do these nightmares come?” I asked, breaking the silence in the room. He seemed more aware, looking at me the instant my words filled his ears. His whole demeanour seemed to be hard and ridged, giving the impression of someone that was holding much more back than words. He was caging something inside himself, something he was terrified to let out.

“Who are the wolves in your head?” I spoke again. There was a nervousness about him now, like I knew something I wasn’t suppose to. But still he didn’t speak, his body doing most of his responding for him.

“I’ll be fine.” When he did finally speak, his voice was weak and raspy which made his words sound less believable.

I folded my arms, giving him a stern look. His mouth perked up into a small smile that he tired to hide by running his tongue over his lips. The sudden change in him made me tilt my head out curiosity. What was he playing at?

“Why are you here?” He asked, a ghost of a smile apparent on his face.

“What?” We went from nightmares to causal conversation with in seconds, which to say the least was unnerving but Stiles seemed genuinely interested in his question.

“Why are you here?” He said more deliberately. The tables were flipped now. Stiles was asking me personal questions that seriously didn’t feel like answering. He looked up at me with sincerity in his eyes, which made it that much harder to ignore him.

“I’m mad.” I answered ominously, hating him for making me say it out loud.

“But you not. You’re not mad or even remotely insane. You have no ticks, no distinct hindrances to your mental competency. You’re just an average girl.”

I ducked my head, huffing out a dark laugh. I nervously fiddled with my hands out of habit before smirking despairingly at his comment.

“We’re all mad here, Stiles.”

I didn’t look at him as I turned away from him getting into bed.

The  True Shipper

Prompt: Hey! Could you write something where the reader and Kol are like best friends and she and Elijah have a thing for each other so Kol kinda teases her abt it but somehow gets them together cause he kinda ships them? Smut if u want! (PS love ur stuff!)

Pairing: Elijah x Reader

Word Count: 400

Warning: None

Keep reading

Parting Gifts: Chapter 2

Author: @hillywooddestiel

Characters: Sam, Dean, sister!Reader, Clarissa (ofc), Heidi (ofc)

Warnings: Angst, bit of fluff,

Word Count: 1.7k

Description: The reader meets up with a friend and tries to calm down but that’s a little hard to do when you bump into your problems at the diner

A/N: Hello! I spent a while on this to get it as near to perfect as I can. It’s from the reader’s perspective just fyi and starts from the end of part 1. I hope you like it xx Masterlist

Part 1

Story:

“Mom, what’s going on?” I ask as she closes the kitchen door behind her. Silently, she moves over to the sink and starts scrubbing the plates from breakfast. “Mom, hello? What did you want to talk about?” She keeps her back turned. “Mom! What the hell is going on? Answer me!” I’m getting worried now so I approach her, reaching out my hand to her shoulder. When she spins around to face me, her eyes are brimming with tears.

“You weren’t supposed to find out this way…” Her voice is low and on the verge of breaking.

“Mom, what… What was I not supposed to find about? Please, just talk to me… You’re starting to freak me out.” I lower my voice to match hers, feeling the familiar sting behind my own eyes.

“They… They’re…”

“They’re what Mom? Why are you so upset?”

Keep reading

Wolf Moon Pt 2

Season 1 Masterlist

Stiles Stilinski x Reader

Word Count: 3,008

Warnings: None

   My hair was done in two loose braids on each side of my head, my outfit was perfect, and I felt cute. I was going to catch Stiles’ attention with this.

   “No, Y/N, not Stiles. A senior,” I mumbled. With one last glance in the mirror, I grabbed my book bag and went downstairs, where my mom was preparing breakfast. “Morning.”

   “Morning, sweetheart. You look nice. Are you excited for your first day?” My mom was a tall, thin, and gorgeous woman. On the outside, she seemed the perfect housewife. On the inside, however, she was much, much more. My dad was the same. We were all the same. No one else knew, and that’s how we expected it to stay.

Keep reading

HOW DO I STAY AWAY FROM JAY PARK?!?

sincerely,

from the girl who is trying to cleanse her soul

Humour idioms

bring the house down: взорвать аудиторию смехом, аплодисментами, т.е. очень успешно выступить

  • She brought down the house with her jokes. (Она взорвала аудиторию своими шутками) 

chill out: расслабиться

  • Geez, chill out. We won’t be late! (Господи, расслабься. Мы не опоздаем!)

full of the joys and spring: дословно “быть переполненным радостью и весно”, т.е. быть счастливым, радостным.

  • Emily’s full of the joys of spring today – her boyfriend finally proposed! (Эмили преисполнена радостью - ее молодой человек наконец-то сделал предложение!)

have a blast: веселиться, оторваться по полной

  • Thanks for inviting us! We had a blast. (Спасибо, что пригласил нас! Оторвались по полной).

life and soul of the party: душа компании

  • It’s weird to see Ben so quiet. He’s usually the life and soul of the party. (Странно видеть Бена таким тихим. Обычно он - душа компании)

to tickle a funny bone: забавлять, рассмешить

  • Hey, take a look at this video - it might tickle your funny bone! (Эй, посмотри это видео - возможно, оно тебя рассмешит)

die laughing: умереть от смеха, т.е. очень сильно смеяться

  • The play was supposed to be very funny but the audience did not really die laughing  (Пьеса должна быть очень смешной, но аудитория не особо умирала от смеха)

laugh one’s head off: смеяться до упаду 

  • Do you remember the scene in ‘Friends’ with ducks and clowns? I laughed my head off! (Помнишь сцену “Друзей” с утками и клоунами? Я смеялась до упаду)

a laughing stock: посмешище, объект насмешек

  • I can’t believe I have to wear that dress to the wedding. I will be a laughing stock for everyone. (Не могу поверить, что мне надо пойти в этом платье на свадьбу. Я выставлю себя на посмешище)

to have the last laugh:смеяться последним

  • She said I’d never make it to college, but I got the last laugh. (Она говорила, что я никогда не поступлю в университет, но я посмеялся последним)
"It's like bicycle...

…riding, I expect,” I said. My head rested peacefully in the curve of his shoulder, my hand idly playing with the red-gold curls that sprang up in thickets across his chest. 

“Did you know you’ve got lots more hairs on your chest than you used to?” “No,” he said drowsily, “I dinna usually count them. Have bye-sickles got lots of hair, then?” 

 It caught me by surprise, and I laughed. “No,” I said. “I just meant that we seemed to recall what to do all right.” Jamie opened one eye and looked down at me consideringly. “It would take a real daftie to forget that, Sassenach,” he said. “I may be lacking practice, but I havena lost all my faculties yet.”

We were still for a long time, aware of each other’s breathing, sensitive to each small twitch and shifting of position. We fitted well together, my head curled into the hollow of his shoulder, the territory of his body warm under my hand, both strange and familiar, awaiting rediscovery.

The building was a solid one, and the sound of the storm outside drowned most noises from within, but now and then the sounds of feet or voices were dimly audible below us; a low, masculine laugh, or the higher voice of a woman, raised in professional flirtation.

Hearing it, Jamie stirred a little uncomfortably.

“I should maybe have taken ye to a tavern,” he said. “It’s only—”

“It’s all right,” I assured him. “Though I must say, of all the places I’d imagined being with you again, I somehow never thought of a brothel.” I hesitated, not wanting to pry, but curiosity got the best of me. “You…er…don’t own this place, do you, Jamie?”

He pulled back a little, staring down at me.

“Me? God in heaven, Sassenach, what d’ye think I am?”

“Well, I don’t know, do I?” I pointed out, with some asperity. “The first thing you do when I find you is faint, and as soon as I’ve got you back on your feet, you get me assaulted in a pub and chased through Edinburgh in company with a deviant Chinese, ending up in a brothel—whose madam seems to be on awfully familiar terms with you, I might add.” The tips of his ears had gone pink, and he seemed to be struggling between laughter and indignation.

“You then take off your clothes, announce that you’re a terrible person with a depraved past, and take me to bed. What did you expect me to think?”

Laughter won out.

“Well, I’m no a saint, Sassenach,” he said. “But I’m no a pimp, either.”

“Glad to hear it,” I said. There was a momentary pause, and then I said, “Do you mean to tell me what you are, or shall I go on running down the disreputable possibilities until I come close?”

“Oh, aye?” he said, entertained by this suggestion. “What’s your best guess?”

I looked him over carefully. He lay at ease amid the tumbled sheets, one arm behind his head, grinning at me.

“Well, I’d bet my shift you’re not a printer,” I said.

The grin widened.

“Why not?”

I poked him rudely in the ribs. “You’re much too fit. Most men in their forties have begun to go soft round the middle, and you haven’t a spare ounce on you.”

“That’s mostly because I havena got anyone to cook for me,” he said ruefully. “If you ate in taverns all the time, ye wouldna be fat, either. Luckily, it looks as though ye eat regularly.” He patted my bottom familiarly, and then ducked, laughing, as I slapped at his hand.

“Don’t try to distract me,” I said, resuming my dignity. “At any rate, you didn’t get muscles like that slaving over a printing press.”

“Ever tried to work one, Sassenach?” He raised a derisive eyebrow.

“No.” I furrowed my brow in thought. “I don’t suppose you’ve taken up highway robbery?”

The secret power of whipped cream || MINHO x READER

Hey!

So here I am with another Minho one-shot stuff. I guess I’ll make a list where you’ll be able to find the little pieces in chronological order. It should be helpful later when I’ll finally start the fanfiction itself.

So this one is about the first kiss - it kind of sucks, I’m shucked when it comes to writing about emotions but I tried my best. Hope you’ll enjoy it, guys!

Unbeta’d, as usual.

“Minho, put that back!,” I snapped at the black-haired Runner who stood with his back to me – still, I knew what he was doing.

“Dufno fat’cha thafkin ‘bou,’ he answered, his voice muffled by what I guessed was whipped cream – it wasn’t part of the weekly supplies normally so when Frypan found two of it in the Box he said we shouldn’t waste it, instead let’s try and make something delicious.

He asked me to help him make a cake or something. I wasn’t particularly good at cooking (one of the reasons I didn’t become a cook, the other one being the fact I was somewhat of a klutz) but I was the only one he trusted not to ‘accidentally’ not be able to account for one of the bottles while he takes a nap.

The only factor Frypan didn’t calculate on was the slightly grumpy, walking sarcasm-ball running under the name of Minho.

I mean, seriously. Like, you know, he was a Runner and everything…

Our friendship did not start off very easily, me being the only girl, a headstrong one with the desire to proof I’m jut as useful as ay other boy, but it got better. We were pretty close by now and he decided to honor me wit his completely unasked company.

Not that I was complaining. Somehow over the months every time he was with me a strange feeling set his feet in my belly.

I dropped the beater and looked at him with my hands on my hips. “Minho, put that back!”

Slowly, he turned around, smiling innocently. Right above the right corner of his mouth was a small white fleck.

“You think you’re smart, askin’ for something twice? Lemme’ just tell you: you are wrong.”

“You have whipped cream on your mouth, slinthead!” I rolled my eyes and stepped closer. He raised an eyebrow, not the least nervous by getting caught, and he crossed his arms in fornt of his hard, muscular chest with a smug look on his face.

“Why are ya watchin’ my mouth?”

My face fell in a mere second. All the blood escaped my face before it just rushed right to my cheeks. The words came slowly to my mouth.

“I-I don’t know what… I’m of course not… watching your mouth! Why would I?” I faltered out, hugging myself tightly with my arms. They were not half as strong as Minho’s – and bloody hell, all the things those strong arms could’ve do to me…!

A huge weight pulled my chest toward that cheeky bastard but I did my best to ignore it. Blaming it on my teenage-hormones and Minho’s bloody hot Runner-body with all those muscles and veins and his witty remarks.

Usually, it worked…

“Because you wanna kiss me.”

…but not when he was saying things like that.

Okay, so maybe he wasn’t saying things like that on a daily basic. To be honest, this was the first time he’d ever suggested something sexual like that. This is why he caught me off-guard.

“That’s klunk,” I mumbled and looked away, fixing my gaze on the floor. Minho stepped closer so I didn’t only see his shoes but also his pants.

“Yeah? Why don’t you look at me, then?”

I don’t dare. No, there was no way I’d have said that aloud. That just wouldn’t have suited the girl who annoyed everyone to death in order to get into the Maze once with his brother.

Suddenly, Minho reached toward me and placed one of his large hands on my upper arm. The skin on his palm was rough and calloused but their mere heat sent tiny little sparkles all over my body. My eyes snapped up, looking straight into Minho’s eyes. His irises were like melted chocolate and I felt like I could just swim in them all day.

My lower lip trembled before I pulled my hand away and stepped forward. “Just gimme the bottle, shuck-face,” I ordered, trying to reach and look behind his back but he just wouldn’t allow me.

I’ve tried from the other side but he quickly turned around, blocking my way. He was obviously hiding that bugging bottle and I was starting to get frustrated from both no succession and his closeness.

After a few turning sideway, I’ve nearly laid my hands on the spray bottle which glinted a faint ray of hope. He must’ve realized the same because he suddenly didn’t care about hiding it anymore, he just used his height-advantage and held the bottle above his head.

My face got redder with annoyance as I jumped up and fell back without even touching the bottle.

“Minho, just give it to me!”

“If you want it, come and take it, pixy.”

“Shuck-face,” I grumbled. An idea popped into my head – I jumped up so I was kneeling on the counter and finally I was on the same level as Minho. I tried to be really fast and so my movements were not planned or safely executed and then it just… I don’t know, happened. My knee must’ve slipped on the tiled surface of the counter because as I reached toward the bottle in Minho’s hands I felt that heart-aching shakiness of tiptoeing over the edge of falling. I let out a high-pitched breath and tried to grab something to hold on. What I took hold of was Minho’s shoulders and since I was so close to him my lips brushed his as my torso bucked forth.

When he saw me loosing my balance he reached to catch me and so one of his hands was holding my waist while the other one was placed on my shoulder. The cold metal of the whipped-cream bottle pinched my skin.

We stood like that for a moment, looking into each others eyes – Minho’s look was concerned but soon he grinned at me widely. At any other time I loved his grin – it didn’t only made him actually look his age but also his eyes looked like curved lines.

Now it only made me nervous.

“I knew you wanted to kiss me!” He blurted out, laughter shaking his voice. My eyes went wide before I tapped him on the shoulder and climbed off the counter on shaky legs.

I just kissed Minho.

Okay, I couldn’t call it a kiss, because it wasn’t one, really, but still it was one of the closest I’ve ever gotten to being kissed.

“Shut up,” I mumbled. The way Minho was laughing so loud made my cheeks burn in embarrassment.

“C’mon now, don’t act like it’s such a big deal!” he hugged my shoulders, still laughing. I tried to duck under his arms and slip away but he just held me too strong. “It wasn’t even a kiss. Shame, though, I’m curious what’cha got to show.”

“Yeah, well, me, too,” I shook my head and stepped back to the counter, not caring about the whipped cream anymore. I just wanted to get this stupid cake done so I could go back to my room and sank into my desperation.

There was silence for a few moments – I couldn’t even hear Minho’s breathing which was alarming. Had he left me?

Before I could’ve turned around, Minho’s skeptical voice sliced through the air. “Are ya saying you’ve never kissed before?”

I spun around, irate, and narrowed my eyes. “Why, have you?”

Minho shrugged. “I’m sure I was a charmer before we got here but – no, I don’t remember anything like that. I wasn’t talking about the further past, though.”

“What d’ya mean?”

“I mean you’re the only girl here with forty boys. You have a lot of chance to practice while I don’t.”

“There could be a thousand boys and I still wouldn’t want to kiss them,” I replied before turning back. The way this conversation headed made me highly nervous.

Minho, however, thought this was the perfect subject to talk about.

“Why? You don’t like boys? It’s okay with me – I mean, I like girls, I get that. More than I would get you liking someone like Gally.”

I opened my mouth to protest, but decided to stay silent.

“…you don’t like Gally, do you?”

I rolled my eyes and shook my head but still said nothing.

“Oh my shuck, it’s Gally, isn’t it!”

I tossed the beater to the counter and spun around sharply with an annoyed expression, bright rose-colored blush darkening my cheeks. “No, Minho, I just never got the chance, okay?!”

He stayed put for a moment, his dark eyes searching my face as if looking for a clue I’m lying. I had no bloody idea why he thought what I said was so impossible.

“We should fix that,” he said with so much simplicity it took my breath away. Seriously, I couldn’t breath and just stared at him for what seemed like hours.

What the bloody shuck?!

My mouth fell open and eyes grew wide in shock as I watched Minho stepping closer. My heart stopped beating for a moment only to accelerate. It beat so hard in my chest I was afraid it would eventually break free from my ribcage.

Minho took another step and gently made me look up by pushing my chin up with his fingers. His musky, manly smell filled my nostrils in the most pleasant way, embracing me in the silk sense of security. My lips trembled and a gawky, low-keyed sigh left my mouth. I closed my eyes seconds before I felt Minho’s lips pressing to mine, soft and rough at the same time, his nose gently pushing into my cheek.

Butterflies?

There was a whole bloody zoo in my stomach!

The slowly it began the fast it ended and Minho bolted up. I dared not to open my eyes, wallowing in the pink haze of my first real kiss. Somewhere in the middle of our interaction, his hands slid to my shoulders, his thumbs stroking circles. Minho’s touch burned my skin.

His voice was the thing waking me up form my starting daydreams. “Do you like me more than Gally?”

My eyes snapped open and when I finally saw his face I couldn’t help but laugh and tuck a stray lock of hair behind my ear. It was an awkward and relieved laugh – Minho’s expression was genuine and soft, even the light smug grin on his lips couldn’t hide the fact he enjoyed the kiss as much as I did.

I got brave under his loving gaze and placed my small hands on his hips, urging him closer. “I like kissin’ ya more than anyone,” I whispered before placing another small peck on his inviting lips.

“We should keep practicing, then.”

With that being said, he took the opportunity to lead up, to come up with his title as the Keeper of the Runners, and captured my lips in a mesmerizing, overdriving kiss. His lips pressed to mine softly, and he grasped the back of my hair and pulled my closer. Minho’s lips twisted and turned, beginning gentle at first but eventually becoming hungrier with every move. He hummed in a satisfied manner, his breath tickling me.

As fantastic as it was, I found it kind of sloppy – I’ve always thought it’d be dryer but still my insides melted and I just wanted to go on forever and ever. A sudden urge to cuddle up next to him at night, share a fluffy blanket and just never stop kissing flooded my soul.

Minho’s grab on my shoulders tightened right before he leaned away to breath. I didn’t even realize I’ve stopped breathing until then. He didn’t let go of me, though – no, he only wrapped me in a bear-hug, his face falling to the crook of my neck, hands roaming up and down my back.

I twined my hands around his neck and smiled like an idiot – a happy idiot, I mean.

There wasn’t much things I remembered from my life before – I dreamt about the outside world every now and then but I rarely remembered anything specific. What I knew for sure was, however, that it wasn’t only the happiest moment I’ve ever lived while in the Glade but also it was the most overjoyed point of my whole life.

150626 Tablo’s Dreaming Radio – Weekly Ssam D & Gray

Warning: Insults thrown left and right by Tablo and supported by Simon D. Main target is Gray, as usual. This is also really long, like EXTRA LONG!

  • They sang ‘happy birthday’ for the 1 year anniversary of the Weekly Ssam D corner
  • Mithra almost couldn’t be a regular guest because he was boring at first
  • The corner originally started with Simon D appearing once a month and with no Gray
  • Tablo said at the start of the corner, Gray had no presence and Gray said he still doesn’t (Tablo and Ssam D disagreed and said he was like MSG, a necessity)
  • When asked why out of aaaaaaaaall of AOMG he chose Gray, Ssam D said it was because he saw potential, that Gray was a person he loved and wanted to do shows with him because he knew he’d be busy (and doesn’t get to see him much lately because he’s so busy)
  • Ssam D had predicted he’d feel lonely and would want to see Gray so he chose to have him on Weekly Ssam D so he could at least see him once a week
  • Tablo says Gray is good at speaking on broadcasts now and is now an entertainer (Ssam D called him a “radio star”) because he seems awkward as a musician. Tablo says his “gray” whisper in his produced tracks sounds awkward and even appearing in hip hop music videos he doesn’t seem to fit in (because he’s like an entertainer)
  • Gray’s response was that from next week UD (is that how to spell his name?) would appear as a joke

Keep reading