the bleep noise

working on the Epilogue for Chasing Suns today, hoping I’ll be able to post it later tonight

I was a good adult and did adult things like responsibilities today, so I have some time to write c;

also got a haircut, and bangs ‘just because’ (though I feel I may regret them sooner than later, lolol forehead sweat) 

Also a rare day where I wore contacts instead. here have my face:

I was promptly reminded that I look like a guppy without glasses so HAH NEVER AGAIN XD

Finding Words

Son Family Week

GoChi Day (5/7)

Prompt: Long Distance

Author Notes: If I ever do get around to writing a GoChi military AU, this would probably be a scene in it. Something where Goku is away for long stretches of time and Chi-Chi is left at home, often raising the children by herself. And all those complications that come with it, and how they deal and.. yeah… anyway… not sure if this is what people were imagining when I was talking about it, but hey, this is just a snippet of an AU I have planned hah…

Pairing: Goku x Chi-Chi

Words: 1,975

AU Setting: Military, Modern

Title: Finding Words

~!~

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

When did Martin call Ben Sugarnut? Do you have a gif or link?

Yup!  Here ya go!

@futureofthemasses was at Setlock 2016 and this apparently happened on June 12:

Some people thought it came from this clip:
(starts at 1:48, should queue right up to it when you hit play)

which is the one where you hear Benedict say ‘sweetheart’, believing they hear Martin saying ‘sugarnut’ in there somewhere too, but those quotes are actually from two different events.  I think the confusion in the video is when Ben says “I just thought you were making sh[bleep] up”, which with the bleep does kinda sound like it might have been ‘sugarnut’ (though someone would have had to mix up who was speaking), and there’s also a bit where Martin’s hard to make out - he says “I thought you’d been christened by him” but if people were determined to hear the sugarnut bit, they might feasibly try to squeeze it in there. Mostly, I think some assumptions were made about it having happened at the same time, and so that’s the information people were passing on. Here’s the transcript:

Ben: …saying sweetheart, I wh’ the [bleep] is that all about? I don’t know.

Martin: John Duttine, the actor.

[muffled words from the crew - clapboard in the way]

Ben: On a particular day in November, how old was he?

Martin: No, no, how old did he become in March, this year? How old?

Ben: I didn’t even know who John Du..Duttine was. I thought you were making sh[bleep] up.

[background crew noises]

Martin: I assumed you’d probably been christened by him.

Ben: [laughter]

Crew: Action!

Ben: [still laughing] Sorry!

Martin: [giggling]

Crew: Still running. First position.

Martin: I thought you knew every actor over 50. I thought there was a by-law.

Ben: Oh still…

Crew: There we go. [Mumbling more directions] And action!

Ben: [cracks up again]

Crew: [laughing]

Ben: Sorry, sorry… I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.


(John Duttine’s Wikipedia page: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/John_Duttine )

Testing Maintenance: Chapter 1

Things in Aperture had turned absolutely sideways. There was so much to do. More than ever, the robots that inhabited the facility were busy, and after such a long, undisturbed rest. GLaDOS’ defeat at the hands of the tenacious human all those years ago had been both liberation and discord, leaving the testing chambers and all other obstacles, stair ways, and factories in a state of decay. Some things stopped working completely, others went about their days trying to fulfill the purpose they were made for as best they could. In some cases, a robot might find themselves active but immobile, and there for unable to complete their usual tasks. Stranded on a heaping pile of garbage, with no way of retrieval and a shattered, glitchy optic lens that made it a little difficult to see out of.

Keep reading

Request: Q loses his shit and literally tears apart Q branch (the monitor & work table room from Skyfall). Minions have seen before (rare) and try to save stuff while staying quiet/in the background. Q either lost an agent or was outsmarted and is taking it way too personally. Bond observes him flipping tables, throwing gadgets, etc. – anon

Angsty as hell, hope you enjoy it. Jen.

Q was screaming.

Bond had entered to find Q-branch is absolute disarray. The workshop downstairs was intact, but the computer room was several states of destroyed and Q was only just getting started; a small bleeping noise had minions diving for cover, a moment before an explosion decimated a glass window in a shower of glass.

If it had not been for Q’s expression, Bond would have thought the man had completely lost his mind.

“Q?”

The absolute, naked devastation was heartbreaking to see. “We lost him.”

Bond understood instantly. “002?”

“I tried,” Q managed, and Bond saw a small sob, a hitch of breath. “I tried.”

A naked scream, and Q half-collapsed, before throwing a laptop to one side and collapsing into himself.

“Q.”

Q ignored him, slamming out and almost knocking over a table; Bond darted forward, caught the flailing limbs as Q contracted inwards violently. “It isn’t fair, it’s not, I did my best, I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what I could have done differently, I fucking, he deserved better, jesus fuck, this isn’t fair. This isn’t fair. I tried. He shouldn’t have died, he shouldn’t have fucking died…”

Bond just held on. Q would continue screaming for a while yet, he would keep going with his gradual breakdown until all that was left was tears and hate, and Bond could weather that storm.

“You did everything you could.”

I know,” Q screeched, and let out another scream, this time a sobbing type of one that preceded the end of him. “Get me out of here, James.”

Q never called Bond ‘James’ in public; Q needed freedom, he needed to break down without an audience.

Bond didn’t bother to wait for permission; he simply lifted Q up into his arms, and took the man – flailing and swearing and sobbing – into his office, where his breakdown would not be witnessed by the entirety of Q-branch. “James…”

“I know,” Bond murmured, holding onto Q while he buckled into Bond’s arms and sobbed with pure hysteria. “Q, you couldn’t have done any more.”

“He shouldn’t be dead,” Q cried out, fingers digging into Bond’s arm. “I don’t, he deserved better, he should…”

Bond hushed him carefully, curling Q into him. “I know,” he repeated, again and again, letting Q sob himself out. “It’s alright, Q. You did your best. It couldn’t be helped.”

Q all but howled into Bond’s arms.

The tears dried, slowly but surely dried.

“You’ll be alright,” Bond repeated. “I’m so sorry, Q.”

Q didn’t try to reply, just cried himself out until he wound up half-catatonic in Bond’s arms, nothing left in him but tears, and the destroyed remnants of his equipment that Q-branch were trying to patch back together piece by piece.

“I tried.”

Bond didn’t try to reply.

“I love you,” he said instead.

Q whimpered into his front, and let Bond cradle him, sobbing himself dry.

Undercover 4: This Is Who I Am

In his nightmares the light is always too bright. It is beyond white, assaulting his eyes so that he cannot see. When the light is gone he squeezes his eyes so tight that all he can see when he opens them again are black dots. This time, there is someone behind the black dots, a figure that is both strange and familiar. He blinks to rid his eyes of the haze of sleep. To focus. It’s late, the curtains are shut but it’s dark outside, the room is shadowed and the corridors are quiet.

“Who are you?” They are the first words he has spoken in days. His throat is dry. His tongue thick in his mouth. He waits for an answer.

She blinked behind her hand, the scream caught in her throat. The beam of light edged closer to her, to Mulder, to Miller, to the others on the bridge. All her instincts yelled at her to run, but Mulder was in no state to move and how would they maneuver their way through the crowds? She could hear the fear in the voices of those trapped on the bridge. People began to climb out of their cars, over the hoods and trunks, pushing others out of their way. A fight caught her attention, followed by a blood-curdling scream and a splash.

“Agent Scully. We need to get out of here.”

“Where to, Agent Miller? We can’t move him,” she nodded to Mulder, slumped in the car.

The noise from the craft overhead grew quiet before its light flicked off, plunging the bridge into utter darkness. People stopped running, stopped talking. The silence was wondrous really, considering how crowded the bridge was. She turned to Miller, ready to speak, but words would not come. She felt heavy, her limbs fatigued. The world was pressing in around her, obliterating her vision from the edges. She fought to stay awake, to stay upright, but she could feel consciousness slipping from her grasp.

The figure remains hazy in the poor light of the room. He cannot gauge gender or age. “Who are you? How did you get in here? Where’s Scully?”

He can hear the desperation rising in his voice. His stomach is tingling with fear. If he closes his eyes will the figure disappear? He isn’t sure if that is what he wants. There is a strange desire that courses through him, forcing him to want this interaction. Is this is a waking nightmare? A symptom of the drugs still coursing through is system. Where’s Scully? He can’t remember when he last saw her.

Fragments of words, her voice, her touch bounce around his memory. If he could only piece together what she was saying, there might be some sense to this situation. He opens his mouth to speak again, but the figure raises a hand.

When she came to she knew was in a hospital bed. The sheets scratched at her skin. She was cold. There was no window and the small glass panel in the door was frosted, making it feel even more claustrophobic. She could hear noises, bleeps and buzzes, voices, footsteps, doors shutting; sounds of hospital life. She tried to move but she was strapped to the bed. She lifted her head off the thin pillow and yelled as loud as she could. Her throat was scratchy when she gave up. Nobody came.

The figure sits beside him, still obscured by the darkness in the room.

“Don’t speak, Mr Mulder. Save your breath. I’ll tell you what you want to know.”

Mulder isn’t sure if the figure is actually talking, or if the words are just in his mind. But the story begins and Mulder listens. And he remembers.

Sometime in the night the door to her room opened and a figure came in. Someone both strange and familiar. “Who are you?” Her voice is stronger than she dared hope, despite her fear.

“Don’t speak, Dr Scully. I’ll tell you what you want to know.”

For a moment, Scully wasn’t sure if the figure was actually talking, or if the words were just in her mind. But the story began and Scully listened. And she remembered.

The boy was at her side when she woke. Mulder was on a gurney a few feet away, his vitals strong.

“Who are you? Where are we?”

“You don’t know me.” She wasn’t sure if he was asking her a question or making a statement.

“Should I know you?” She made to sit up, but her head pounded. She lifted her hand to her forehead. “What have you done to us?”

“Mr Mulder is going to be fine. He just needs to rest.”

When Mulder stirs he is conscious of being watched. He knows he’s in a hospital, the smell is familiar. He opens his eyes hoping to see his beloved Scully looking at him, as she has done so many times in the past. But there are a different set of eyes, in a different face. A boy, leaning over him, wearing an expression of concern.

“Who are you? Where’s Scully?”

“Dr Scully is fine, she’s right here.” The boy points to the gurney on the other side of the room. She is getting up. She is alive.

“Scully?”

She is already walking towards him.

You are both exactly as I dreamt. I could see you the whole time, in my mind’s eye. I knew you loved me then, and that you have never stopped.

Dad, you keep looking, you keep questioning, you speak for the victim.

Mum, you demand evidence, you pursue justice, you challenge yourself and those around you.

These are your strengths. These are your weaknesses. These are the traits you have shared with me, your son. And despite what you may think, you have given me all I have ever wanted. I have your genes, your love in my veins. I have your faith and your tenacity. I have your curiosity and your passion. This is who I am.

Trust ☦ - Luke Hemmings Smuff

“Come here, baby,” Luke had cooed from the bed as you stood in the doorway in flimsy, red laced panties and a matching bra that only marginally covered your erect nipples. “It’s okay.”

In your subsidiary vision you could already see an intensifying log pushing against his pants in the crotch area.

 “Sit on my lap, Princess,” he murmured softly. He had you completely enticed already, like his words were just a rope which had looped around your neck and were lassoing you in. You should’ve thought quicker about walking in a sexy manner, by sticking your chest out, or something. But instead you waddled hurriedly over to him, placing each one of your legs on either side of his knees, sliding forward into his lap. The stretching open of your thighs allowed for cool air to swirl around to your already dampening centre.

You oppressed the moan that was budging to be released and instead breathed heavily in anticipation. Luke had not even touched you and you were already gone astray within the deep trance of his spell.

After placing his hands behind him on the bed and leaning back onto them, he ran his glaze slowly from your eyes, down to your round breasts and down further to your centre. His tongue emerged from his mouth and dragged in a clockwise motion over his lips as his pupils dilated at the sight. A small circle on your underwear had changed from fire engine red to a deep maroon.

“Aw, baby,” he patronised, causing you to blush.

“Look at this.”

He paused after every phrase to allow your arousal to merely strengthen.

“You are so so wet, sweet heart.”

Your chest was heaving with every spoken word.

“So horny.”

Luke’s mouth was falling slightly ajar until he bit his top teeth down onto his plump bottom lip.

“How long have you been thinking about my cock, honey?”

His eyes widened and casually drifted back up to yours.

“Hey?”

Bringing forward his arms, his spine straightened so he sitting upright; now at perfect eye level with you.

“Come on, baby, you can tell me.”

You were still completely lost in your daze as his oversized hands were gently placed near your knees.

“I know I’ve been thinking about your pink little pussy for a long time.”

Barely aware of your own actions, you started to slightly rock your hips up and down, inching close to the rock solid bulge in Luke’s tight jeans with every forward swing.

“Couldn’t stop thinking about how warm and tight you were when you were squirting all over my dick and all over the sheets last time.”

 An uneven whimper dripped out of your mouth and Luke’s rough hands took a dainty trip up each one of your thighs.

“My pretty little Princess is gonna get a really nice treat tonight.”

His fingers had just reached the side of your panties when a buzzing noise emitted from his phone, shaking aggressively against the wooden bedside table.

“No, Luke, please,” you exclaimed, desperately taking a harsh hold of his upper arm, which now had tensed muscles after the phone had been heard, “Don’t.”

The two tender hands retreated from where you so frantically needed them and snapped onto your waist, firstly digging inward, and then raising up, taking your entire body off of his and placing you next to him on the bed like a rag doll.

Luke stood and dashed away to snatch his phone and press it to his ear. You slammed your eyes shut, sighing, and flopping backward onto the bedding behind you.

“Yeah man,” he mumbled in a much deeper tone than what he held a minute ago. Hopping around the room on one leg as he used one hand to slip a foot into a shoe, a few more words were burbled in the phone. “Mainland shopping centre? Five minutes, mate. See you soon.”

Yet your eyes were shut, you could still hear, and when the bleep noise sounded to signal he had hung up the call, you wanted so badly to get up from the comfort of the quilt and slap him across the face. But the desolation from this consistent dereliction was overriding the frustration, and seeping away any energy you had.

The same callous hand from before rested upon your cheek, and cracked lips pressed lightly onto your forehead. A lighter tone encompassed his voice as he spoke into your skull, very quiet and sweetly, but in an obvious rush. “I’ll just be gone for a couple of hours, gorgeous. Then I’ll take good care of you, okay? You look so sexy, baby.”

Just like that, and the warmth of him was gone. The doorknob clicked closed, and he was off.

But you were still there, lying limp on an empty bed in a vulnerable state. As much as you wanted him, you just couldn’t have him. Your life had changed so dramatically in the previous months.  This boy who had forced his own way into your life and engaged himself with all of your feelings and problems had inflicted a massive impact onto your every day.

-

It was a Saturday when you had first met him.

“Hi, how are you?” you politely asked in a perky tone, bouncing on your toes as you took the notepad and pen out from the pocketed apron.

“Not bad, yourself?” a young voice had replied.

Striking you as unusual that any sort of youth would be inside this small café at such a hideously early hour, you lifted your head to take a look at the male. His eyes were already boring into yours when you looked up, and you could only pick up on the main features, such as his light blue eyes, gelled dirty blonde hair, and full black outfit, before you needed to steal your own glare away from him.

“What can I grab you today?”

His long finger simmered down the laminated menu in front of him before abruptly halting on the coffee section. Although you were now focused on the tiny notepad in your palm, it was undeniable that he was still gawking at you whilst moving along the menu.

“A long black, please,” he hummed.

Scribbling down the order, you swiftly snuck the stationary back down into your pocket and smiled at him, “Won’t be too long.”

Steam from the coffee machine had splattered into your face as you thought about the tall boy wearing all black, who, ironically, had requested a long back. When you carefully carried the mug over to his table, where he sat, alone, blankly watching the very few passing cars outside the enormous glass window, he smiled and raised both of his eyebrows as a thank you. For the next couple of hours, he simply sat and watched the cars. But every so often, he would turn his head to take a look at you whilst you carried plates out to tables and put on your most brilliant fake laugh for the elderly couples.

You were behind the counter, tapping another tables order into the screen when the boy stood from his seat and strolled towards you. His hand dipped into his back pocket before he pulled out a not-surprisingly black leather wallet, holding it by his side.

“Hi,” you chimed, meeting your eyes with his, “Ready to pay?”

Not breaking the lock of vision, he brought the wallet to chest, flipping it open and using one thumb to slide out a note. You couldn’t help but notice the huge wad of cash filling up the section for notes, yet the gaps for credit cards being completely empty. When he passed it over the top of the computer and you took it from his hand, he purred, “Keep the change. The coffee was really nice, thank you.”

Curving up the corners of your lips, you watched as he took a few steps backward before ripping his soft stare away from you and turning on his heels to leave the store. Upon exiting, his back hunched slightly, shoulders raising to his ears, head focused on the pavement directly in front of his feet, and his hands drilling into his front pockets. You could see him through the wide window, walking at a fast pace, disparate from his sluggish and relaxed natured movements in the building.

Sighing, you pulled open the till from underneath you and began slotting the note into the insert. When you felt that it was a different size from the others, you confusedly looked down.

It was a $50 note. The coffee had only cost $4.50.

The next morning, you were on the open shift again. As soon as you had wrapped your hair into a bun and tied your apron behind your back, you abided by manager instructions and drew the window curtains. As you flipped around the closed/open sign and kicked open the stiff door to present that the store was running, you were instantly met by a broad figure in front of you. The bright sunrise brought about a shining glow around the person, and caused you to squint and employ your hand as a sun visor on your forehead.

“Good morning,” you greeted as the stature stepped forward. The closer the body got to you, the larger it became, and the more it could block the bright sun. 

As your vision restored from the dazzling light, you recognised the same boy from the previous day.

“Oh,” you gushed quickly, beginning to hurry back into the store, “You over payed yesterday. I have the money under the desk-” His hand grabbed onto your shoulder mid sentence and made your words deflate down from fast and strident to slow and confused, “I’ll just go and grab it if you just wait here.”

He rubbed his thumb on your shoulder as he spoke deep and steadily, “I told you to keep the change. I’m only back for another coffee.”

“Oh,” you surged as he removed his hand and strode to the same table as yesterday.  

“Um,” the mumble stuttered from your mouth as you were caught off guard by the Sunday early comer. Normally it was a few hours into the shift when the first customer would arrive, as the frequent old women were at church, and it was too early for any other regular beings. Reaching over the counter, you snatched your notepad and scurried to stand by the boy’s table. “So what were you after?”

“Same as yesterday. A long black, please,” he stated without hesitation.

“Oh,” you sighed, “okay.”

Raising your hand to scribble the order onto your small paper, you paused when realising your hand was empty. With a sharp intake of breath, you scampered back to the desk, leaning over and grasping your pen. Two steps in to getting back to the table, your brain recognised that you didn’t need to go back; you already knew the order. Halting at the thought, you pivoted on your foot and spun to head back to the counter. As you pushed through the waist-high swing door and loped to the coffee machine, you felt your cheeks colour themselves red while the male observed your actions from his seat, a smirk planted on his face.

The mug shook slightly on top of its small plate as you carried it over to his table; your hands trembling nervously as you attempted to hold the two piece set with both hands. His ogling eyes as you had awkwardly stumbled around earlier made you anxiously insecure, and his gaze had not impeded whilst you made his drink.

“Anything else I can get you?” you slurred hastily, feeling edgy about being analysed under his gape.

There was a silent hiatus before he cleared his throat and asked, “How much does it cost to have you sit with me for a conversation?”

Due to the store being completely empty, and your manager hiding himself in the back office, you felt pressured to slide into the seat across from him and let him begin chatting. Any nerves you had held before had flown away for the longer the two of you spoke. Never had it been requested that you simply sit down and revel in somebody else’s company, so it was a surprisingly comforting change to the habitual boring Sunday shift.

While the boy, whom you had discovered his name to be Luke early in the conversing, spoke about his family and friends, you couldn’t hold off from examining him. Today it was a grey three quarter sleeve top, tight around his biceps, yet the same black skinny jeans. His hair was slickly stuck up in what wasn’t quite a blonde Mohawk, but instead a spiky quiff. His eyebrows curved generously above his vivid blue eyes and raised up and down when he spoke. His jaw barely moved, the words merely flowing from his pink lips and floating in the air angelically to your ears.

Thankfully, it was him who strummed up the topics of interest so that you weren’t deserted into dreadful silence. If he talked for too long, you found that your head would tilt to the side, eyes would widen and jaw would drift slightly ajar as you absorbed his attractiveness, like it could vanish at any given time. Your mind made its decision after half an hour that he was the most appealing male you’d ever served at the café. Once a full hour had passed, you added to your notion and distinguished that he was the most appealing physically, and, conversational wise. Two hours later and you were mindlessly engrossed in the random discussion he had made about the politics at the current time. By then your chin was resting in the palm of your hand, your elbow propped up on the table, and eyebrows furrowed as you concentrated on his argument. He stopped part way through a point and looked beyond your head.

“Looks like you’ve got a customer,” he nodded towards the door.

“Yeah,” you’d murmured quietly in response, keeping motionless and remaining clouded from the reality of any surroundings around the two of you.

Luke had grinned and laughed softly at you, waiting for you to react.

“[y/n],” he stated more firmly than before, and poking your cheek with one finger as though to be poking an on button. “Customer.”

“Oh,” your head snapped up straight and your mouth formed an ‘o’ shape. Swivelling your knees from under the table, you dashed over the small family and greeted them, directing them to a table and passing around menus.

The store was gradually filled like a bucket underneath a leaking tap; slowly by surely. Small talk from every table echoed from the walls and the accumulation of the late arriving chef splattering eggs into fry pans and the hissing sounds emitting from the coffee machine swallowed the tranquil atmosphere when you had been nattering to Luke. When he eventually stood to leave the shop, the same occurrence had happened as the day prior. He had payed you and walked swiftly away before you could realise that, again, it was a $50 note for one basic coffee. This time a tiny ripper sugar packet wrapper was also underneath the note, and had written eight thin numbers on it in blue pen. Blushing, you crammed the piece into the pocket of your apron and contained a smile.

As soon as you could clock off, you furiously tapped the number into your phone and sent a text message.

Hey, it [y/n] from the café :-)

Two minutes of repeatedly pressing the home button on your phone and tapping your foot impatiently on the ground later, a buzz in your hand indicated you of a reply.

I was hoping you’d see the number! How was the end of your shift? x

Seeking the opportunity to flirt without accidentally stuttering, you hurriedly made a response and then locked the screen of your phone, shutting your eyes and awaiting for his hopefully equally playful rejoinder to the comment. When the phone vibrated again, you swiped your thumb over the notification to open up the message.

Hmmm, I hate those boob rings…

You re-read the message a few times as perplexity engulfed your brain and caused you to re-read the entire conversation thus far. All was making sense until you noticed your own mistake.

‘Much more boob ring than when you were there..’

Boob ring? Seriously auto-correct? You had intended on saying boring, but, no, you can’t even be gracefully flirtatious over text.

Stupid auto-correct. I could talk forever about how many times it has messed me up :(

Amid kicking yourself, he had come back with a much smoother reply.

Well how about you tell me over dinner? :)

After a few afternoon hours at university the next day, you had rushed home on the bus to end up sitting on the edge of your bed, teeth chewing at your fingernails, staring into the array of neatly hung dresses in your wardrobe. ‘Not fancy’ had been Luke’s description of wherever he was going to take you, but did not fancy mean flip flops and a singlet, or would that look too casual. With a frustrated slam of your hand onto your forehead, you rose from your position, closing your eyes, and reaching forward your hand to make the decision for you. Once your fingers had a grasp of a coat hanger, you gritted your jaws and opened one eye. Looked like you were wearing a plain knee-length blue dress for the night.

6:57pm and a sporty black car pulled into the gutter right in front of your house. The windows were too tinted to make out a figure, but you assumed it was Luke. Pacing up and down inside your house, you timidly waited for a knock on the door, expecting it at any moment, but still jumping in your skin when a fisted hand thudded twice on the wood. For almost a whole minute, the two of you had stood just waiting for the other to speak. Your heart wasn’t even beating. Until finally, he gushed, “Wow, [y/n], you look beautiful.”

And just like as it did in the café, the conversation never stopped. In the car, he turned down the radio so it was only faint in the background of the talking. You still heard when an artist you couldn’t stand started playing, and you weren’t hesitant to ask Luke if he was into the song, holding your breath as you mentally prayed he would have a good taste in music.

“This song is the worst thing that has ever burdened our planet,” he laughed loudly and spoke, taking his eyes briefly off the road to catch a glance at you, “Wait. You don’t like it do you?”

“No, no, no,” you surged, “It’s awful. Do you have any CD’s or anything we can put in?”

Luke made you feel so comfortable and welcomed whenever you were chatting that you forgot it was only your first date and your hand reached forward to pull down the glove box in search of other music. With alacrity, Luke’s arm sprung over to your side of the car, slapping at your hand away and then grabbing your wrist to push it back into your lap. You gasped at the fast movement, and pressed your back into the seat, regretting it instantly.

“Don’t look in there,” he coughed faintly, and rapidly changed the subject, clicking open the centre compartment which held an array of CD’s, “I’ve got all my music in here. I think you’ll catch onto my favourite genre pretty quickly.”

More than pleased with the types of albums he had, you tried to concentrate on what disc to play and brush off the curiosity as to what was in the front compartment. When you reached your destination, after a 40 minute drive, Luke turned off the engine and sprinted around to your side of the car to open the door for you. Your feet dropped onto a soft texture as you stood from the seat, and your entire body stopped moving when you saw that in front of the car and down a minor slope was an entire beach. While you were taking in the vast extent of water, shinning under the orange setting sun, and your nose became accompanied to the salty seaweed smell, Luke rushed to the boot and took out a basket.

Up until midnight, you both relaxed back on his bonnet, drinking champagne that he had poured and eating sandwiches he’d created earlier. Not much mattered when you were with Luke. The way you could both waste hours together was as though you’d been friends for years. Nothing could stop the growing feeling of love and care for him that was hastily growing in your heart, and by the way he placed his hand around your waist and kissed your scalp when you plonked your head onto his shoulder, you believed he might be feeling the same way.

The dates that had followed in the subsequent weeks were all quite just as sweet and comfortable. After testing out an Italian restaurant, going for ice cream at a secluded beach and playing a horrific game of bowling, he had taken you on a Friday night to the cinema for the latest scary movie. A tactical move. You’d had to grip onto his arm on so many occasions, and by the end of the film you had moved the arm rest completely up from between you and had swung your legs across his thighs, resting your head on his chest, while he wrapped his arms firmly around you. As you left the theatre, your fingers intertwined forcefully with his and didn’t remove themselves until he loosed his grip to reach out and open the car door for you. When you were both inside of the car, Luke had halted just before turning on the engine and snapped his neck to look at you. The defenceless, emotional state from the film had slapped your heart back into a fast pace as you noticed the distress eminent in his eyes.

“Did you hear that?” he’d stammered, his gaze drifting off away from your head and outside the window beside you. The muscles in his cheek rose daintily as his eyes squinted to see into the pitch black night. In an instant his eyes were wide open. His mouth dropped. A deep gasp shot from his mouth. Hands hid gripped onto your arm. You reacted to his reaction by screaming. Loudly. You daren’t turn to face whatever was outside the car, but instead hid your facial features into the shallow depth of your hands.

The two of you froze. For just a moment. Before a soft giggle emerged from Luke, and his grasp on you loosened and he gently ran his fingers up and down your bare arm. With heavy breathing from the fright and the immense confusion, you lifted your head and looked at him.

His pink tongue was being bitten between his white teeth as he contained a laugh, “I was just kidding, babe.”

The tension in your muscles evaporated as you sighed and shook your head. Soon enough, you’d joined the laughter and your skin had turned the colour of a rose. ‘Babe’ was the word that had kept your heart racing, however, and kept you still bouncing on your toes for the rest of the night. As Luke walked you to your door, he subtly held onto your dangling hand and again you were both left standing face to face on your porch. This time you’d only made it up one step before your hand was slightly tugged to suggest for you to turn around.

“I hope you’re not too scared to sleep tonight,” he posed, holding delicately onto both of your hands as he looked straight forward to your eyes.

Smiling and gazing down to the gap between your feet and his, you replied, “Well if you hadn’t scared me when I got into the car, I’d maybe be alright.”

After a light chuckle, you saw Luke take a step forward, interfering with your spacious downward gaze, and his fore finger tapped on the underside of your chin, bringing your head up to acknowledge the near proximity of your nose and lips to his.

“I’m sorry, darling,” he whispered hoarsely from the depths of his throat, and then eliminating the centimetre bridge between you. 

The kiss begun as a simple dry brush of lip against lip, sending a small shiver to slither up your spine, but during the quiver a thousand electricity shots had been ignited and it was not long before Luke’s tongue had emerged, lapping his own lips and yours at the same time. The smoothness and liquidity of the action was heightened as you snug your arms around his neck and his large hands dug into your hips. What began soft and slow, the cushiony gums of each other being explored with spongy tongues, quickly transformed into hungry and rash, as Luke’s teeth took a part in the game.

Nibbling sharply into your bottom lip, Luke caused you to involuntarily release a crackled moan. With a positive response from you, he then took the incentive to direct the passion into the house, pushing you backward so your back could hit against the door. One tight hand liberated your bodily curve and twisted the doorknob so the entire frame flung and revealed the white interior of your small unit. Luke’s other hand was still attached to your waist, and he jabbed his thumb into your stomach to burrow you into the building.

The attacking kiss continued on in the staler indoor air and as he controlled the fast tempo of the passion and managed the route down your short hallway and to the single door on the left. While both pairs of legs and feet shuffled to the back of the home, Luke’s fingers started their own adventure to reach the ditch of your spine and then flow down to the curves of your ass. By the time you’d arrived at the bedroom door, he had spread his long fingers out like spiders on each cheek, and impulsively squeezed them, discharging a squeal from you.

On that night, the two of you had sex for the first time. Every so often Luke’s irrational movements would be slowed as he would be mindful not to scare you or make you feel uncomfortable. It was obvious to you that he desperately wanted more with everything. But frankly, you were quite nervous to do this with him, and grateful that he was taking everything cautiously.

“Luke,” you’d uneasily warned as he had lifted your top over your head, “it’s been a while.”

His head nodded while he persisted with pecking his lips and gnawing lightly over every open piece of skin on your shoulders, mumbling, “it’s okay, baby.” The placid bites seethed down to mere licks as his head sauntered down to wet the skin exposed at the top of your plain nude bra. “I’ll go slow.” You’d gulped nervously as you recognised the boring underwear you’d chosen for the day, but Luke hadn’t seemed to notice as his warm fingers slid under the clasp near your spine and gravity took a hold of your breasts instead of a wire.

“[y/n],” his voice grumbled at the sight of you half naked. And then his eyes darted to yours, asking in almost concern, “Am I your first time, love?”

Shaking your head quickly, you stated quietly, “it’s just been a while.”

He knew what he was doing as he took ultimate dictation over you for the night. With every whimper or gasp that left your lungs, you could see the impatience growing in his stomach, but he prolonged the build up to make you feel secure and ensure you were ready. Once your body was completely naked and you lay on the bed facing the ceiling, he brushed one hand over your forehead and through your hair to caress the back of your skull between your head and the pillow. On his side, his face remained close to yours so he could examine each expression you held in response to his fingers wandering around your crotch.

“You okay?” he asked melodiously as his thumb took position on your clit and two other fingers ducked into your folds and slithered down to your moist opening. Your pelvis was subconsciously rising into the palm of his hand as you bit into your bottom lip, preparing for the feeling that was bound to come. He took his time fingering you, knowing immediately, when you could barely fit the width of two knuckles, that you would need some time to be stretched in preparation for his cock.

Later, after he’d strained his boxers over his hardness and your breaths had become shaky at his extensive length, he’d forced his lips back onto yours to calm you down. When he crawled back up on to his knees, gripping himself to line up at your dripping entrance, he began finely gritting his jaws, as if oppressing the desire to slam into your begging pussy.  The rest of your body told a slightly different opinion to your beseeching heat, however, arms and legs trembling faintly with anxiousness.

“[y/n],” he growled, before clearing his throat and blinking, then allowing a softer and calmer tone to be secreted, “tell if this is painful, honey, and I’ll stop straight away, okay?”

You inhaled a deep breath and allowed yourself to become bewildered underneath his presence, trusting he would look after you. And, he did.

It didn’t take long for the two of you to climax and relax back into the bed. Luke’s arms secured around your waist from behind and his hot breath on the back of your neck maintaining the sweat you’d been emitting during the intercourse.

“You’re beautiful,” was the last muttered thing that reached your ears before your mind was set into entire rest, the final few bolts of lightning still stirring around your organs and  storing a smile on your face.

At around eleven, a consistent blaring bleep audited from somewhere in the room and shuffles and the scratching of sheet and quilt against each other made your eyelids wobble open and your voice to whine quietly. Something was thrown across the room, and then the bleeping was stopped. Hearing a tiny crack as your door opened slowly and then shut behind, you assumed it was Luke’s phone and he’d gone to take a call. By the morning, when your own alarm blasted against every wall to slap you into the pre-work routine, Luke was back into his location behind you, an arm tucked neatly around your front. Hitting the snooze button, you could feel as Luke’s eyelids fluttered open, his eyelashes sweeping against the hairs on the back of your neck.

“Morning, Luke,” you yawned, mouth widening as though you were a lion. A lazy groan escaped from the boy behind you.

Wriggling your body forward, you allowed your own body to crumble itself out of the bed and float into the bathroom, still feeling light from the euphoric night beforehand. Once you were ready to head for work, you took a look at Luke who had not moved in your bed, except for his head now being submerged into the pillow. Feeling closer to him after the events of the prior night, you toyed with your options that were available in your head. A decision was quite obvious to you, though, as the longer you witnessed the sleeping log being swallowed in the puffy quilts, the more you realised you wouldn’t be able to force him to leave.

Returning home from your shift, you were surprised to find Luke in the exact spot as you deserted him. The rest of the day was spent at your house, lazily achieving nothing except love. Revelling in each other’s presence. Enjoying the warmth of each other. Experiencing still the sparky touch from the contact of skin and lips. After dinner, he had sighed at the vibration of his phone ringing and took the call in annoyed tone because he had known it would mean he’d have to go. The 24 hour plumbing service that he worked for, which he had explained to you on your first date, usually gave him the late and dodgy jobs, as he was the youngest employee. In a hurry he’d scuffed out of the house, letting in a breeze of chilly night air as he went.

Two days later, Luke had politely asked if you would be his girlfriend, already with an assumption of what the answer would be. Ecstatic with now having a boyfriend, it dawned on you that the few nights ago when you had had sex wouldn’t be the last. You hadn’t expected that the second time would be that night, though, during the tour he was giving you of his own apartment.

“And this is the bedroom,” he announced with a sigh in the final room, “where I’m sure we are going to spend some time.. doing things.. together.”

Your giggles at the comment turned into a gasp as he tore your shoulder around from behind and pressed his lips onto yours. A vague thrust of his crotch into yours sent you on a vision back to the other night and your hands instantly rose to intertwine with his hair locks. Luke looked after you, just as he had the first time, giving your body time to relax under his touch so you could gain the most pleasure and minimal pain when it came down to it.

And then the time after that, and the time after that, and the time after that, he had crushed his blatant wanting to give his cock what it really needed; fast paced and rough play. Watching him as he would start grabbing your breast or ass harshly, fingertips ploughing into the fat of your skin, but then swiftly releasing the forceful grip with a blink of his eyes or shake of his head, rubbing the bare area and kissing it softly. The more it occurred, the worse you felt for restraining him from his real sexual craving. After a couple of weeks, it reached a point where you had to uncomfortably bring it up in conversation.

You had been sitting down on the couch with Luke, not really following the news story on the TV, yet neither was he. On his muscled arm, your head leant, the deep breaths of air running apprehensively from your nostril causing his arm hairs to be blown as if grass in the wind.

“You alright?” he mused, taking notice of your unease.

Disregarding the question, you began your spill, permitting every thought to drip quickly from your mouth, “Um, Luke, I’m sorry that I’m not that good in bed and I know that you want to do more, and I just need to tell you that it’s actually okay if you want to be rough or do whatever you want to do, because I’m ready and I can take it and,” your voice began fizzling out when you observed his face taking an amused expression with raised eyebrows and a slight smile, “I really want you to be happy, yeah.”

He snorted softly before titling his neck and speaking steadily, his arm extending around your neck and shoulder, pushing you into his chest, “Honey, the sex that I’ve had with you has been the most pleasing thing I’ve ever done in my life.”

A blush inflamed the skin under your eyes, but you couldn’t help but feel frustrated, knowing his words were a lie. “Luke, I’m not stupid. It’s clear that you want more from me,” you huffed.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, [y/n], I’m completely content with everything you’ve offered.“

“Oh c’mon, it’s all been pretty docile.”

He took a moment to contemplate what you were proposing, but sighed, “If you let my imagination and kinks run lose in bed, you’re just going to end up hurt.”

Rolling your eyes, you spluttered, “I don’t care, I want you to have fun and not feel restrained by my boring-“

“No, baby-“

“Luke,” you whined, “Why don’t you just fuck me how you would’ve fucked every other girl.”

His hand tensed on your upper arm and his flat forehead becoming bumpy with a frown, “Because I love you.”

You began another retort, but it was chocked up in your throat as your brain understood what had been said. Despite a moment of static, you managed to heave a complaint through the barrier that had had developed in your mouth, but the words came out faint, “I love you too, and that’s why I want to give you more.” After a single second, you rammed out another point which you weren’t completely sure your mind agreed with, but you knew would strengthen your argument. “And for me too. I want more too.”

Without a reply following, you concentrated your focus on the TV show. It was an entire two minutes later when Luke dropped his head to fall on top of yours, talking peacefully in conjunction with his arousing words, “tomorrow night, gorgeous, I’m going to fuck you so hard that you’re going to regret ever wanting me. Okay, Princess?”

At your lectures the following day, you’d violently tapped your pencil on the front of your skirt, the patting sound in time with your heart rate. Your eyes were burning holes into the equations on the whiteboard, your mind was falling into dips thinking about the events to come that night, and your lower body was gradually heating with the wondering of what Luke had in store. On the bus ride home, your fretting exacerbated and you crossed your legs tightly to control your tapping foot and jumpy legs. As soon as you got to Luke’s house, you used your own key that he’d given you to let yourself in. Peaking your head nervously around the apartment, you couldn’t see him anywhere, until you heard a deep, raucous voice boom behind you.

“How was your day?”

Turning on your heel, you tried to make your gulp as unnoticeable as possible, not wanting Luke to know how panicked you were.

“Good,” you squeaked, before clearing your throat and reiterating, “good.”

With his back leaning on the wall, and his hands in his pockets, his blaring eyes wandered down your body, pupils dilating at your choice of outfit. A plain white t-shirt, which meant the black bra was slightly visible underneath, and short red/black tartan skirt, presenting a considerable amount of your long legs.  As his eyes made their journey back up to your face, his tongue clicked up and down on the roof of his mouth, producing a tutting sound.

“I hope you haven’t been wearing that all day, [y/n],” he stated hoarsely, rather than asked. Neither of you moved until he reformed the sentence into a question, “Have you been wearing that all day?”

Your lips opened ever so surreptitiously to let out a contained breath as you nodded your head. Using momentum, he pushed his back from the wall and took a few slow steps to end up an inch from being pressed against you.

His voice came out of throat smooth and hushed like he was speaking to a child, “Are you going to answer me?”

You nodded your head and innocently moved your eyes to the floor. His ‘kink’ was obviously having the dominance, and you were more than okay with that. All you would need to do is follow along with the act. And surely that wouldn’t be difficult considering you naturally were the submissive and quite frankly did need someone else to take the reins because you’d be too nervous and un-knowledged to do so yourself.

Luke could see the flashing thoughts pounding around inside your brain, and quickly mustered up a serious tone, “[y/n], if you don’t want to do this we can just have a quiet night in.”

You kept your glare on the tiles but stammered out a stern response, “I want this.”

A smirk damaged his serious façade, and he was fast in continuing the fun, “Well, baby, go into my bedroom and I’ll see you in a minute.”

Scuffing your feet along the corridor, you made your way into the bedroom, sitting down on the mattress and repeating in your head that it was going to be okay. After a moment, you decided to take your shoes off so Luke wouldn’t have to do so, or force you to do so, later. Just as you were about to remove your long knee-high white socks, though, his words bellowed from him standing in the door frame, “don’t take the socks off, love, they’re cute.” When you slowly rose your head to take a look at him, with his arms crossed and a formidable expression on his face he continued, “you can take your top off for me, though.”

Gripping the hem and rolling it over your head, you never broke eye contact with him. “Panties and bra off too, darling. You’ve got no reason to still have them on in my house.”

When you peeled off the underwear beneath your skirt, your cheeks blushed when you saw and felt how damp they were. Just Luke’s taunting voice had sent your lower body into overdrive. His eyes momentarily bulged when you undid the clasp at the back of your bra and let the straps slip over your shoulder and down over your hands onto the floor. At the sight of you sitting naively on his own bed, in only a tiny checker skirt and long socks, his cock wakened and began to become the master of the situation.

“Now, on the middle of the bed, hands and knees, baby,” his rough words were turning into steam that was heating up the room.

You complied hastily with his commands, crawling into the centre of the quilt and facing your head to the headboard. Once you were in position, you turned your head on its side to grab a gape at him as he zipped down his jeans and boxers in one go, and tore off his top to add more clothing to the pile you’d created. It seemed you weren’t the only one ridiculously horny, as his length was already stiff and standing tall to almost reach his belly button. The bed dipped as he got on his own knees behind you, but still having his torso up straight.

A single warm finger snuck under your skirt and raised the material so that your ass was completely exposed to Luke’s eyes and the thick air in the room. A deep hum escaped his throat as he used the finger to draw a squiggled line down your right cheek, trickling diagonally inward towards your heat but not quite reaching it.

In a sudden contrast from the soft touch, he employed his opposite hand to aggressively grab your left hip and heave your body backward so your behind slammed roughly into his hardness. The immediate gasp that came from you as he did so turned gradually into a small moan when he began pensively grinding his length up and down so it was rubbing forcefully down the crescent between your cheeks, making contact with both of your entrances but not penetrating either.

“So, my Princess,” he belligerently began, “you must think it’s okay to wear adorable little outfits like this to uni.”

Against your own will, your spine started to dip down to the mattress with his words, causing you to stretch out as if you were a cat, your ass pushing further and further into Luke’s front.

“Is that what you think, honey,” his grave tenor remained, “because you’re wrong. Nobody should get the privilege to look at and have the benefit of what’s my property.”

Out the corner of your eye you saw a rapid movement too fast for your vision to recognise before a deafening slap echoed against all of the walls in the room. It was an entire three seconds after that when a stinging sensation shocked through your body and instigated a whimper to slip from your tongue. Luke had spanked you. Hard. And as much as you normally would’ve called this crazy, you were the one who still continued to raise your ass up at his face, your knees beginning to spread minutely to allow for any sort of cool air to hopefully make contact with your centre which was overheating and desperate for better friction. He was planning on stopping briefly and softening his tone to ask if you were still okay, but from the vulnerable reaction you gave, and the tiny drip of wetness now trailing from your hot centre down your leg and onto the bed, he knew you were enjoying it.

“Naughty girl, you are [y/n]. What am I going to do with you?”

Seeking the opportunity, he crouched down and took you by surprise by sticking out his tongue and licking from your knee all way up the inside of your leg, collecting up the arousal that had leaked. Your stomach had eaten itself at the feeling and your heart had attacked your organs by pounding so hard against your insides, like it was a pinball jumping around a pinball machine. As you attempted to moan his name, all that came out was a crackled groan.

Without warning, Luke’s hand then brutally made contact with your cheek in the same location as before, but instead of removing his palm after the slap, he forcibly grasped the skin in his fingers and squeezed tightly. Your hands had begun gripping at the sheets with the full body stimulation the smacking was producing in you. He released his fingers and took another immense swing, the strike walloping on your bare skin and letting another stinging rush pounce over your body.

While your chest heaved heavily, you felt cracked lips brush tenderly where a bright red mark had emerged.  They then opened somewhat and you could recognise the tip of Luke’s tongue flick on the burning skin. A hand then replaced the lips, rubbing firmly over cheek.

“Turn around,” he commanded loudly, letting go of his hand.

As soon as you flipped over your body, your eyes couldn’t resist the temptation to gape at his stiffness. You thought that he was hard before, but now veins were sticking out of length and the head was glinting under the light, wet with pre cum. The more you stared, the drier and thirstier your gums became as they screamed at your brain for satisfaction.

“Can’t even keep your eyes off, can you?” Luke chuckled deeply.

A croaking question speedily rasped from your mouth, before you knew what was happening, “Can I suck it, Lucas?”

The request took the both of you by surprise, his eyebrows lifting to the roof. “Um,” he stuttered, “fuck yeah.”

He manoeuvred his legs and stood up from the mattress. You followed his lead by crawling over to the edge, still on your knees and bending down slightly so your mouth was eye level with his cock. But then your burst of confidence faded. With his dripping tip so close to your face, you came to terms with the realisation that you had no idea what to do. Sensing the change of pace, Luke took back his power, snapping his hands to the sides of your head, holding your skull tightly in position.

“Open,” he bellowed. Your jaw dropped instantaneously.

Within a second his dick was touching the back of your throat, and you were chocking up a cough. An attempt to move your head backward failed as his wide hands had a strong grip of you, but thankfully he thrust backward when he realised you were gagging.

“You okay?” he rushed, gazing down at you.

With the fear of disappointing him piercing at your brain, you efficiently re-clasped your lips around him, pushing your head forward onto his dick. Although you both knew your confidence had returned, Luke was aware he would still need to guide you. One of his hands tore from your head and instead grasped your hair in a fist. The hold allowed him to direct you back and forward on his length, and the relatively painful tug of your hairs from your scalp only stirred your arousal more. When you hollowed your cheeks and tried to suck on the skin, which was getting damper from your own saliva and your tongue spreading his pre-cum, Luke had let out a ferocious groan above you. The longer you continued and the more tactics you gave a shot, such as softly grazing your teeth along him and tickling his balls with your fingers, the louder his rumbles became and the sharper his jerking of your head was.

“Shit,” he yelled boldly before pulling your hair so far back your mouth left his now throbbing cock. “You are being so good to me now, aren’t you? Lay down.”

You let your back fall onto the bed, bouncing a little, as he grabbed onto your thighs for support. Not a single warning was given prior to his thick length driving viciously into you. By then you were soaked, so he could pound into you without any pain on your behalf. The pleasure hit you straight away with the first hurl, but didn’t stop with every thrust after. As he moved so quickly, your most sensitive spot was slammed into each time by Luke’s long dick and your mouth fell open, gasping repetitively. Your skirt had ridden up just under your breasts, which had to be grabbed violently in his hand to stop from bouncing up and down so intensely as he forced in and out of you with manly grunts.

The action that sent you into an absolutely blur was when he bent over, and let his tongue lap over your nipple, his cock slightly slowing down its drive. At the same time, his finger brushed over your clit and traced circles around your most sensitive spot. Automatically, your hands and arms took a hold of his blonde head, embracing him into your chest. What you had not expected, but surely occurred, was Luke’s teeth having part, biting gently around your reddening nipple. And then, to add to the concentration of your pleasure, his fingers began to rub your clit harder and at a faster pace. As he did so, your moaning and gasping diminished into nothing. There was no sound emitting your mouth. Nothing would come out. And Luke knew, even more than you, what was about to happen, his head facing up to you, smiling.

“Come for me, baby,” he gritted through the grin, “scream my fucking name and let everyone in this neighbourhood know that I’m the one who gets to punish you when you’re a bad girl.”

That was the final penguin that could fit on the iceberg before it tipped. You could feel all of your insides squeeze as explosives full of ecstasy were set off in every organ in your body. The clenching of your heat on Luke’s dick wrung out his own orgasm, making his head fly backward and mouth drop open for him to shout your name. Shaking underneath him, you felt his velvety cum fill your insides and drip out of you in a mixture with your own juices.

Within few minutes, Luke had switched personality. His lips were softly kissing your neck and shoulder and his hands soothingly caressing your thigh. He mumbled continuously, asking if he was too rough and confirming that he didn’t mean to hurt you, but you had to keep shaking your head and giggling, attempting to explain that it was the most amazing sex you’d ever experienced. Later in the night, as your head rested on his chest to sleep and all the lights were off, he’d whispered, ‘you know that what we did before wasn’t even an eighth of the intensity I could’ve gone.’

Succeeding, you begun spending almost every night at Luke’s apartment. After work, or after university, he would always be outside, without being asked, ready to drive you back to his. And if not, you’d have received a text message begging you to catch the bus to his place and not your own. Over the weeks, more of your items ended up in his flat. His blue toothbrush was now complemented with your pink one on the left side of it, his once empty space next to his drawer of skinny jeans now filled with clothing of your own, and his favourite cereal now joined by a box of your preferred cornflakes. Everything felt perfect. You had someone to complain to, to cheer you up, to entertain you. Well, at least all of those things until his phone would produce the dreaded buzz and he would be sent off to a job.

That was quite honestly the only fault in your relationship. But you learnt to get used to him leaving often, as 24 hour plumbing was his job, and you just had to accept that. It upset you that he would always be called at ridiculous hours of the night, because you were the one who would have to see the dark grey circles under his eyes when he rose to eat breakfast with you in the morning before you went to class, despite your pleading for him to stay in bed and get some sleep.

-

You hadn’t coped well during the night that Luke had built you up, only to be sent out on a call, as mentioned prior. It wasn’t just that he had made you excited with his words in his apartment. The complete day had been bursting with suggestive texts from him while you were at work, sneakily pulling out your phone from your back pocket every so often to check a new message. Instead of heading directly to his, you stopped by at a shopping centre on the way, purchasing a pair of lingerie in the hope that it would send him crazy when he made love to you. It had dawned on you over the months that he had an obsession with you still having some sort of clothing on while he fucked you, and you thought that he would be thoroughly fond of bra and panties different from your usual nude and black underwear colourings. Before he saw you, you’d stripped off and slipped on the garments, stepping into the door frame of his bedroom, instantly gaining his attention and sexual frustration.

But he had left you, an absolute mess on his bed. After minutes of him being gone, you gathered up the energy to sit up straight, but noticed something you shouldn’t have as you did so. Luke’s phone. Facing up on the carpet near the door. You sighed with the dilemma now burning in your head. As he was getting on his shoes, you’d overheard on the phone that it was the Mainland Shopping Centre where he had to head to. Was it worth going there to give him his phone in case he needed it, or-

The phone, which lit up with a text message from a ‘Michael,’ gave you the answer. Around the North West side of carpark. Bring gun –M, the message read. Your eyes enlarged when you saw the word ‘gun’ but you kicked yourself when realising he would’ve meant a drill of some sort for trades work purposes. The job must have been involved a burst pipe or something that needed to be fixed before customers arrived at the centre in the morning. A sad image of Luke wondering hopelessly around the shopping centre, at night, not knowing where exactly his co-worker was, set you into immediate motion to go find him and hand him the mobile. Once your pyjama shorts and jacket were on over your underwear, you charged out the apartment, snatching Luke’s car keys as you did so. It was only around the corner, so it didn’t surprise you that he had walked there.

Only once before had you driven Luke’s car, when he was too lazy to get some milk from the corner supermarket, but you presumed that he wouldn’t mind as long as you didn’t crash it. Past the couple of traffic light sets and a few minutes down the road, you indicated into the car park on the left. Yet the entire area was only dimly light under the crappy suburban street lighting, you could make out a group of men standing at the distant end of the empty parking lot.  

As you weaved the car around the medium strips and humps in the road, you got close enough to recognise one of the figures as the tall and lanky Luke with a wave of hair stuck up on his head. The embarrassment was already stabbing at your nerves when you apprehended that you were going to be seen by all of his ‘tradie’ mates like a mum dropping off a lunchbox to her son who forgot. Just as you were only 50 metres away from them, contemplating turning around and just going home, the heads of all the six men twisted to face you in the car, their arms all simultaneously raising in what you could only distinguish as a pointing manner. You squinted to get a better view of them, but your headlights only touched their feet and you couldn’t properly make out what they were doing with their arms and hands.

Taking out the key, you shut down the engine of the car, and could make out one of the figures walking toward you. While you attempted to re-determine which one of them you had thought was Luke, you were taken aback as the car door flung open and a hard hand gripped onto your jacket, lifting you up from the driver’s seat. When you felt a circle being pushed against the side of your skull and clicking noise, your body went into shut down mode. The person insistently shoved you forward, and with what you could only imagine was a real life gun against your head, you couldn’t even make your body resist. The shock of the dangerous item touching your skin had frozen not only your brain but all of your limbs. 

The more that you were jostled forward, the easier it was to see the other five men, standing still with one leg lunged forward and both hands posed in front of their eyes aiming directly at you. A final push sent you staggering into the centre of the males, who had formed a circle around you.

“Are you with the police?” one of them yelled angrily.

You were struggling to breathe, let alone form a sentence, so your head flicked quickly side to side. Scattering around in a 360 degree turn, you scanned your eyes over the men to find if Luke was there. Sure enough, when you faced him, he was already staring utterly blank at you. His stance was the only one different from the men as his gunned hand was not raised quite high enough and slowly dropping down to his sides. Unlike the others, his eyes were full of disbelief and concern when he saw it was you, rather than dire hatred.   

“What the fuck are you doing here?” another spat at you, causing your head to flick towards them. You stuttered with a response as you felt the eyes of them all gaze up and down at your unappealing outfit.

Luke’s voice was the most calming thing you had ever heard at that moment, “I don’t think she means any harm, lads.”

You swore you could feel the tension in the air as the men contemplated what to do.
Why didn’t Luke just tell them all to fuck off and leave you, his girlfriend, alone?
Why were these people even considering killing you anyway?
Why did they actually have guns?
Why did LUKE have a gun?

“For fuck sake,” one of them wearing a hood exclaimed, “you said this was a quiet fucking meeting place.”

“It is,” a curly haired guy next to Luke hissed back.

“Well you fucking get rid of her then,” the hooded man retorted, “make sure she knows not to call the fucking coppers either.”

Luke lunged in without delay and took a tight grasp of your upper arm to drag you back towards the car. As soon as you were away from the circle of people, they began indulging back into the previous conversation which you couldn’t make out over the top of Luke whispering sternly but sweetly into your ear.

“You go straight home, okay baby? If you run into any trouble before you get back to mine, I want you to use what’s in the glove box. I’ll be home in less than an hour.”

There was no time for you to reply, if you could even conjure up a response, as he opened the door and pushed you back down into the driver’s seat. Through the window, you darted your worried eyes back up to meet with his warm ones which were telling you to calm down. Once he started walking back to the others, you fumbled around to find the keys so you could start the engine.

As you shakily stamped down on the accelerator and made your way out of the car park and back onto the main road in the direction of home, your body was still frozen in a state of shock. Your lungs had changed from emitting quick and sharp breaths to long slow deep ones and it felt as though your eyelids had not blinked for days. The thoughts creating a tornado in your mind couldn’t even be interpreted by your brain as they darted in circles and hurt your head to a point of tears developing around your eyes. With every metre closer to Luke’s apartment, the leather steering wheel became further drenched with your increasingly sweaty hands as they clenched onto it anxiously.  The one concept that strove above others was that you needed to get into his unit as soon as possible and have the door shut permanently behind you.

Once you were stationary in the driveway, you decided to follow Luke’s advice and get whatever it was in the front compartment of the car. Leaning over without any deliberation, your hands took a grasp of the leaver that pulled it down but as soon as the slot flipped downward you screamed piercingly at the item that lay there and slapped up the section rapidly.

“Oh my God, Oh my God, Oh my God, Oh my God,” you continuously repeated under your breath as your shaky hands bungled around to get open the car door.

On the way from the driveway to his flat, you tripped twice and had to hold onto stair railings to buttress you and be a support to heave your lagging figure up. When your feet eventually stepped into his apartment, you slammed the door closed behind you, locking it from the inside and staggering into the room. Knees collided with the floor as you attempted to scurry into the bedroom, and you crawled absent mindedly into the kitchen area, your back leaning on a dining table leg. Whether it was the pain of your little fall, or the sudden realisation of all that had just happened, the tears that had been slowly welling up in your eyes over the past ten minutes finally toppled over and began dripping briskly down your face.

Plummeting your head into your own hands, which were being covered by the length of your jacket arms, you brought your bare legs up to your chest and let yourself remain as a defenceless, weak ball of fear on the floor. It couldn’t be determined by you how long you were heaving up all the air and water in your body to form gasps and tears before Luke barged through the door, puffing loudly.

“Oh, sweet heart,” he exhaled when he saw your hopeless state. Crouching down onto the tiles with you, his muscled arms enveloped your entire body. One of his hands held the side of your head softly into his chest so your tears began soaking into his top. Your own hand reached up and pawed tightly onto the material near his collarbone while he hummed, “Shhhh, you’re okay, baby, it’s okay. I’m here. You’re okay.”

Soon your head started feeling dizzy with all the commotion and your hyperventilating started to reduce to just sniffing of your nose. The clasp you had on his shirt was relieved when you raised your still shaking arm to rub at your already raw and aching eyes.

“Are you alright, love?” he spoke carefully and softly when he recognised your pace slowing. You ever so slightly shook your head at his question, being honest with the fact that you actually were not coping with the warp of unanswered uncertainties surfacing constantly in your mind. Taking in a huge gush of air, you attempted to spit out a sentence that could explain one of the things you didn’t understand from the events of the past hour, but you stuttered relentlessly.

“Why-h-how. Luke, why- why was-“

He stopped you by placing his thumb over your lips and almost sealing them magically before he begun elucidating.

“Okay, [y/n], I was honestly hoping I’d never have to talk about this,” he cleared his throat, “But, um, yeah. Three of the lads I was with were a part of my gang.  We, uh, have been hanging out for a few yea-”

“Hanging out?” you burst and then repeated, “Hanging out. With guns?”

“Yes,” he affirmed, as though he was expecting you to respond like this, “it’s all gotten a little bit more dangerous than I guess we were first expecting.”

You remained still, with your face creased up in confusion and your head trying to interpret what was going on. “The plumbing,” you spurt from your mouth, “Is that- is it-“

“No,” Luke interrupted and gulped, “No, it’s not real.”

Your eyelids fell shut and your lips turned into a pipe pushing out frightened air as the realisation continued to seep in. “Why Luke?”

He chewed away relentlessly at his lip while he continued, “It just started in high school, when we all wanted money for some stupid concert, and, well, we all decided to rob some posh store run by stuck up assholes who didn’t need the money. Then, it just became a thing. Michael, Calum, Ashton and I were just a gang. Only in the past year we’ve gotten into the dealing side of things, and it’s also been pretty recent that we’ve begun having uprisings with other crime rings.”

“Dealings?” you queried, not keeping up with the terminology.

“Drugs, [y/n]. Where do you think I get my wads of cash from?” he laughed.

His eyes tracked back up to yours. For the minute, he had forgotten who he was telling this to, but he was quickly reminded when he captured your fragile frame in his sight again. The image of you still balled up in an alarmed condition, red eyes looking up at him, as if he was the one to be scared of, quickly sent Luke into reassurance mode.

“Honey, you know I’d never do anything bad to you, yeah? And I’m not ever going to let anyone touch you. You’re mine, Princess, only mine.”

 Pouting his lips, he pressed them softly onto your scalp and rubbed your arms gently.

 

The next week was unusual. Constantly, you would forget about Luke’s little hidden truth.  He was just the kindest, loveliest person to associate with. You were so blessed to have him as your boyfriend. But then almost every night, he would get a phone call and quietly try to sneak out the room without ‘waking’ you. He wasn’t aware that your brain now immediately turned on as soon as the mobile vibration was heard. Sometimes, as he was getting up, you’d whisper to him, “Please be safe, Luke,” and he would have to quickly promise you, “always, baby.”

Being held at gun point had scared you to a point almost beyond repair. The best way to deal with the thought was to try and forget it occurred, and you didn’t want to sound like a worried parent nagging constantly, so you tried not to bring the topic up in much conversation. But you couldn’t help it one morning when you had woken up for work before he had even arrived home yet. When your alarm brung through your ears, there had been nothing more uneasy that not feeling Luke’s arms or legs draped or wrapped among your own limbs. You had to keep your composure, however, and remind yourself that some nights he just had to stay out longer than others. Like when he had first met you in the café, he must’ve been out all night; an explanation to why he had been awake so early.

When you took out your cereal from the cupboard and shook the contents so they tinged into the bowl, you captured a large black body weaving their way along the border of the room in an attempt to escape your peripheral vision and make their way to the latter of the house.

“Luke,” you acquired his attention, making him jump slightly at the fact you’d seen him.

“Oh, hey,” he gathered, pulling his hands into a clasp behind his back and smiling at you, “good morning.”

His eyelids were dropping, the eyeballs themselves covered in a glassy filter, all due to tiredness. The originally trendy rips in the knees of his jeans seemed to have torn open more so during the night, and there was a smudge of dirt smearing from just under his chin the lowest part of his cheek. With his shoulders and spine slouching, he didn’t seem as tall or poised as usual, and the fatigue was blatant. As much as you just wanted him to get some rest, your mind couldn’t resist the desire to go and smother the weak boy in kisses.

Since the event at the car park, your intimacy had been limited to pecks and cuddles. Not because either of you had requested that, just because there had never been a mutual need to go any further. Luke didn’t want to pressure you if you were still possibly too upset over the whole ordeal, and you were busy suffering the confliction of the beloved man you met and the aberrant and errant person he apparently was. But now, as you witnessed him so drowsy he was near to falling asleep in an unstable standing position, there was nothing more you craved than to put him in a situation where he would have no expectations but to relax and be pleasured.

While you thought this through, Luke recognised your face dropping slightly and could see the tight squeeze of your brain while it thought everything through. He walked over to you slowly, placing a hand on your shoulder and speaking genuinely to pluck you from the reflection, “Are you okay, [y/n]?”

Instead of replying to his question, you frowned almost angrily at how he could be so concerned about you. You who waitresses at a small and rarely demanding café for a job. You who is only ever required to bust out a few essays every now and then for classes. You who can actually sleep at night. And then him. Him who has to hide a major part of his life from anyone he talks to. Him who has to get up at ridiculous hours. Him who risks his life constantly. Him who, despite enduring an exhausting night, still bothers to as you if you’re alright.

“Are you okay?” you posed back to him.

His face stilled for a minor second at the unforeseen question, but softened again as he commented, “Baby, I’m always okay as long as I’ve got my innocent little sunshine to come home to.”

Your mouth opened vaguely, but no words rang from your mouth. Before either of you could think, he kissed you. It was as though you both desperately wanted the same thing when both of your lips then attached hungrily. Luke’s hands tucked just below your ass and lifted you up so your calves could enfold around his torso. Making your own arms envelope around his neck, you utilised your hands to press on the back of his skull and clam his face and eager mouth closer to yours. Stepping forward, Luke pushed your body into the fridge behind and started a ferocious bitting assault on your jaw bone and the slope down your neck.

“Do you want me to fuck you on the kitchen counter, [y/n]?” he snarled against your throat whilst nibbling his way down.

“No,” you whimpered weakly, a contrast to the dominance you wanted to be present in your words, “I want to fuck you on the kitchen counter.”

His assail on your skin halted instantly at the comment, face snapping up to being directly in front of yours, eyes scrutinising your own in an attempt to discover any sense of regret. “Darling,” he exclaimed, “you’ve changed.”

With that, he chuckled slightly, releasing the grip he had of your thighs and lowering you back to be standing properly on the ground.

You were left to go to your shift with the thirst of that tiny moment kicking your stomach on rewind. Over and over, you wondered what the hell you were going to do when you arrived home. The more you pondered, the more you had regret about implying you wanted to have control in whatever you would get up to when you got home. Second thoughts forced you to send a nippy text message to Luke, making sure he wouldn’t be too excited for something you were reluctant to do later.

Having slight regrets about wanting power from this morning

He was abrupt in replying.

Good.

But he sent another message directly after.

I was hopeful you’d change your mind with a few hours to think.

You grimaced at his words, and tapped at the small screen behind the counter so customers wouldn’t see.

So you deliberately left me hanging so I’d change my mind :o

I prefer you being my inferior little angel rather than you controlling me babe. And I wasn’t joking earlier when I said about coming home to my innocent sunshine. You’re keeping me grounded from my crazy night life.

Before you had time to insinuate a response, he’d sent another message which had you melting in adoration.

I love you.

I love you too, you confirmed, getting back to your job with an unremitting grin gaining you looks from confused customers. 

An unfamiliar voice boomed when you wandered into Luke’s unit that evening. When you stepped foot into the lounge, there were four heads, instead of the usual one, which snapped up to look at you. Your eyes resonated on the one face you did know, Luke.

“[y/n],” he rose from the couch and strode to you, slipping a hand onto your waist which instantly made you feel more at comfort, “these are my boys. Michael, Ashton and Calum.” His hand pointed towards each person, assigning their names.

“Well, you look a bit different not in pyjamas,” laughed Ashton, his head and curly mop bouncing as he scanned his head to everyone, waiting for a great response like it was the best joke in the world.

Calum rolled his eyes and brought his hands into a praying manner pointing the roof, “Lord, give Ashton the strength to actually make a humorous comment once in his life.”

“Fuck off,” Ashton muttered under his breath, evoking Michael to join in.

“No, Ashton,” he hollered, “you fuck off. You’ve never had a single laughing response from anyone from anything you’ve ever said.”

“You’re just pissed because I took your-“

“Yeah, maybe I am pissed, asshole,”

“Don’t call me an asshole, you’re the one-“

“See, look at you, always putting the blame on-“

Amidst the banter, Luke leaned down, and murmured into your ear, “don’t be nervous, love. They aren’t going to hurt you.”

With a little push of his hand, he urged you to sit down on the couch, and plonked down next to you.

“Anyway, boys,” his voice rose gravelly above the others to obtain ultimate command, “We are focusing on meeting my girlfriend, right?”

For the next hour, you sat and listened to them ramble on with general discussion as you sat with your hands glided between your knees and one foot stepping forcefully onto the other to avoid the possibility of nervous tapping. You only got involved in the conversation when you were asked a direct question. It’s funny how you can serve a complete stranger at your job and feel at ease, but be nervous when surrounded by people you do know, but are trying your hardest to please. 

The boys were nice to you. They seemed like normal teenagers. But you knew in the back of your mind that they were criminals. But then again so was Luke, and you were dating him by your own choice. When Luke was annoyed enough with their existence, he asked them to leave and they piled out like a bunch of raging drunks who had just seen their sporting team lose at a bar and were being kicked from the premises.

“Cya, [y/n],” one of them called as Luke had already half shut the door on them.

Once the door was completely shut, it was as though sticky tape had been wrapped around your body the entire time and had finally been ripped off. A relieving feeling, but with some tension still lingering. It wasn’t anxious tension anymore, however. It was sexual tension. Like you and Luke were just picking back up from where you left this morning.

 “They didn’t warn me they were coming over,” Luke stated, “they were just so keen to meet my amazing and beautiful and cute little girlfriend that I’ve been bragging about.”

You chewed down on your gum to shoo away the grin that was begging to come and entrap your whole face again. He sauntered over to you without breaking the eye contact and raised the palm of his hand to rest on your cheek. The near proximity allowed you take in all of his features. His eyes were slightly squinted, looking down at you, his hair quiffed neater than it had been in the morning. No more heavy grey bags burdening under his blue eyes, or the scrape of brown mud on his chin. But instead, a black and purple discolouring bulging like a swollen lump on his otherwise pale skin.

“My God,” you gasped at the bruise impaled on his chin and cheek, “Luke, how did this happen?”

You must’ve been blinded by the panic of meeting new people to not realise the prominent mark before. And the dirt stain must have been covering it earlier.

“It’s just a bruise,” he conferred hastily, like he knew you were going to ask, his hand dropping from your cheek.

“I didn’t ask what it was. I asked how it happened.”

“We ran into some trouble last night, baby, it’s nothing to-“

“Don’t tell me it’s nothing to worry about. This looks like someone tried to punch you to death.”

“[Y/n], it really is nothing. I’m still breathing and talking and walking so I think I’m fine.”

“Why would anybody do that?”

“I don’t know.”

“You do know, so tell me. Why would-“

“Because we aren’t giving them what they want.”

“Well, what the hell do they-”

“You.”

His voice smacked into your face like a falling brick wall. Your jaw began to tremble as you comprehended the concept. Luke knew immediately of his mistake when your bottom lip quivered.

“Shit,” he stammered and lowered his tone, “Sweet heart, like I said last week, I’m not going to let anything happen to you, baby. The boys and I aren’t going to let a single person touch you. You’re my girl, yeah? No one gets to intrude that.”

“Why would they be after me?” you exhaled and sucked in another breath to hear his soft response.

“Some people think you might be onto all of us with the dealings because you turned up out of nowhere the other night. But it’s okay because you obviously aren’t with the police, are you? And before you suggest it, we aren’t going to come straight up with ‘she’s just my girlfriend’ because we don’t want them threatening your safety if anything ever stuffs up between gangs. So we know what we’re doing, honey, you need to just trust me.”

Your head nodded, and the tranquillity in his eyes helped you to remain calm. Everything felt so surreal to you now. It was like your life had been taken out of your hands and handed like over to Luke. I guess it was a good thing. Of all the people in the entire world, you would want it to be Luke that had possession of you.

“Now,” he started with a more fervent timbre, “I think we begun something this morning and didn’t really finish it.”

His lip came out from inside his mouth and traced over his top lip to leave it glossy and wet.  

“Something about making love I think it was,” he continued, “on the kitchen counter? Do you wanna do that now babe?”

Your body tipped up onto the balls of your feet, closing the small gap between you both, feeling it was necessary with the new seductive mood.

“Hmmm,” he droned, your foreheads, noses, lips and chests now so close together you could feel his heartbeat pounding on to your breasts and making your nipples harden underneath your work uniform you were still wearing, “All I want is for my baby t-”

The dreaded phone rang in his jeans front pocket and vibrated onto your crotch area causing you to elicit a loud moan that you hadn’t been expecting. Luke’s laughed under his breath but remained reasonably un-phased by your reaction, purring, “Bit excited there, sweets?” before he frowned at the Caller ID and drew his finger over the answer button, placing the phone to his ear.

“It’s only just dark out,” he spoke deeply into the microphone.

“I know, mate, I know,” a loud voice, Michael, blared on the other end, which you could hear because Luke was still pressed up against you and the speakers only centimetres away, “we just wanted to say we love [y/n] and you’re getting the night off to keep her safe at home.”

Luke’s eyebrows furrowed even more so than before, muttering, “I doubt anyone will come to my place if they’re trying to find her.”

“Just fucking take the night off,” another voice, sounding like Ashton, shrieked through the phone.

Another mumble was heard also in the background, “I wish you’d take the damn night off as well, Calum.”

“Alright, alright,” Luke spoke rushed and smirked at you with the realisation that the two of you had the entire night, “Have a good night then, boys.”

When the call ended, the fun began. Luke picked you up with his own arm strength and flung you over his shoulder, making all the blood in your body stream immediately down to your head. Once he’d carried you into the kitchen, you saw him smack a glass cup that had been sitting in the middle of the bench and watch as it flew across the room and smashed into a million tiny pieces across the floor. Throwing your body down, flat, on the kitchen top, he stayed standing at the end where your feet hung slightly off the edge. In one swift movement, he tugged viciously at your ankles to bring them up and over his shoulders, your spine still in contact with the hard surface.

“Let’s take all of these annoying clothes off, shall we?” his face kept in complete seriousness while he helped you kick off your shoes and peel off your socks.

Even though Luke actions were rather vicious, the sentiment was more playful than you had anticipated. After you’d orgasmed twice in the kitchen and he had used his tongue to suck away at the liquid mess that was not only on the bench top but also still dousing your heat, he claimed that, “the kitchen is a place for eating, [y/n].”

Taking a step back, he ordered you angrily to go to the bedroom. Hopping down from the counter, you abided by the demands and ran ahead of him, naked, down the hallway. As you galloped, Luke’s eyes glared intently at your ass, which was jiggling while you giggled down the corridor, and you checked over your shoulder mischievously to make sure he was following you. But he stopped at one point, and stood perfectly still, tilting his head to gape at your full appearance. Your hand, which was about to turn the door handle into his room, paused and you looked back at him, who was a few metres away, taking in your beauty.

“I’m so lucky,” he sighed, provoking a blush on your cheeks.

 

-

It was going to be hard, to know that your life was at danger, and so was the life of the one person who you loved the most. But there was something about Luke, the tall boy in all black who ordered a long black and had stolen your heart with it. Something that stopped you from packing up and leaving, even when he seemed suspicious, or when you found out he had lied to you, or when you realised he was a criminal, or when his choice of lifestyle was now putting your life at risk.

There was only one thing that you could put it down to; the feeling of honest love, which made every second that you were scared or worried completely worth it. 

kaydence2283  asked:

What would the sakamakis and the mukamis do if their lover repeatedly swears all the time

Ayato: Hahaha your mad now huh! your swearing even more then usual! hey wanna have a swearing contest? i bet i know more bad words then you do!!

Laito: Bitch-chan i know i call you “bitch-chan” but when you call me a Bitch it’s differentttt, when i say “bitch-chan” it’s in a caring way… *pouts* it’s just cold hearted when you call me a bitch..

Kanato: I TOLD YOU!! DON’T SWEAR AROUND TEDDY!!! DID YOU NOT HEAR ME THE FIRST TIME?!?! 

Reiji: i honestly can’t believe you just said that- (Swears) if you could stop using such lan- (swears) listen if you are unable to stop this horrible habit then i will take you aside and punish you for every curse word said this week

Shu: if your going to curse.. can you do it more silently? 

Subaru: what’s wrong??? did you hurt yourself? what happened?…. sooooo what your telling me is that… your swearing like a sailor because your potato chip fell on the floor..?

Yuma: WHAT THE ***** ARE YOU ********** SWEARING SO ********* MUCH ABOUT SOW?! 

Kou: BEEP!… BEEP!…BEEEEEEP!~…*follows you around making bleeping noises every time you swear*

Ruki: you dare speak like that around your Master? be prepared for your punishment tonight Livestock~

Azusa: do you have…. to talk like that?…. it kind of…. bothers me… you just don’t seem….quite like yourself… when you swear…. so much….. (#ProtectTheCinnamonRollsEars)

zanyafritjof asked: Okay third time is a charm. If you have already done this one let me know. How about CollegeAU where Sam gets fed up with Cas and Dean not doing anything about their like for each other and locks them in a closet.

Author’s note: I had so much fun writing this, adorable twelve year old shipper Sammy is my weakness. ;)

“If we get out of here, I swear I will strangle your little brother.” Castiel threatened with a sideways glare in his roommate’s direction.

He doubted if Dean could even see his angry expression, because it was fairly dark in the closet where they were stuck together, but he threw in the scowl for good measure regardless.

“Whoa man, really loving your use of the word ‘if’ here. How about we try for ‘when’, because I’m not planning on dying in here.” Dean complained.

They were both forlornly sitting on the floor of the messy closet, the one in the hallway where they stored their jackets and shoes. After being in there for almost an hour, both boys had lost all hope of getting out anytime soon. Their sides were touching; it was a fairly large built in closet, but still, there was no room here for any kind of personal space. Not that Castiel minded being close to Dean…

“Alright, when.” Castiel responded with a dramatic wave of his hand.

“Yes, when.” Dean repeated resolutely. “Besides, if we’re lucky, Charlie might barge in like she does all the time, and we could be out of here sooner than you think.”

If and might, your words inspire about as much confidence as my ‘when’.” Castiel snapped.

He knew that this was technically not Dean’s fault, but he did partly blame Dean for not keeping his kid-brother in check.

There was a silence as they both listened for any signs of Sam returning. There were none.

Castiel was rather confused, because Sam usually was a very decent kid, and this kind of behavior didn’t suit him at all. Dean and Castiel had been friends since high school, and Castiel knew Sam pretty well; the kid was not known for being a troublemaker. And so, when Dean had asked Castiel if it was okay for twelve year old Sammy to stay with them for a few days, because Sam was missing his older brother ever since he’d moved out to go to college, Castiel had agreed to it right away…

Right about now, he was beginning to deeply regret that decision.

“I cannot believe that a twelve year old was able to trick us into going in here to begin with.” Castiel muttered dejectedly.

“Well, Sammy’s always been the clever one.” Dean managed to sound annoyed and impressed at the same time. “And then there’s those innocent puppy eyes… And honestly, when he said that he wanted to play a game, and that it would all make sense in a minute, I believed him.”

“Oh yes, me too. Until we were actually in here and he turned the lock!” Castiel countered with more than a hint of sarcasm.

Dean chuckled sheepishly. “Yeah okay, I didn’t see that one coming…”

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inspired by julia’s marvelous list and specifically bullet point #9 (deancas world cup au - ao3)

Dean wakes up to the stupid blaring alarm Cas sets every morning. It isn’t anything cool, like the radio or a nice soothing tune, but it’s some godawful bleeping noise that Cas insists is the only thing that would actually wake them up in the morning. 

Cas is curled up behind him, chest pressing into Dean’s back, and Dean is facing the bedside table, so naturally, it’s his responsibility to untangle himself from Castiel’s warmth and thwack the button on the alarm. After hitting the living shit out of the stupid device, much to Cas’s chagrin, Dean turns around so they are lying face-to-face, noses brushing softly against the pillows. 

“Good morning,” Dean says cheerfully, because despite Castiel’s silly qualms about the alarm, he is pretty fuckin’ happy to wake up next to him every morning. 

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Video Games

I know I’ve been gone for a bit, I’ve been doing things, I’m sorry. This hasn’t been proof read at all. I also haven’t replied to messages yet because I am a piece of literal shit. I’ll do things tomorrow, I promise. I’m sorry.

Video Games
Grace, through this breaking, cracked darkness, is Juliette.

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Kanan literally being worried more about Ezra than anyone else in “Stealth Strike” or maybe I’m just reading too much into the dialogue again...

Kanan: Once we get there, Chopper’s gonna plug into the system, find out where our people are and we get them out of there.

Translation: We get there, we find Ezra and everyone else, and get them out. I just wanna get Ezra out of there asap, you hear me? (Okay, maybe it’s a little over-the-top, but can I blame myself for thinking he looks like an overly concerned father?)

Then Rex proceeds to argue that they should sabotage the ship because of the fact that the empire can now pull their ships out of hyperspace and that their rebellion won’t last long if the empire fully intends to utilize this new ship.

That being the case–Kanan argues. (He really likes arguing with Rex huh? If be because he really doesn’t like Rex or because that literally means they have to spend more time on that deathtrap of a ship instead of getting out of there asap with his son? *headcanon gears start ticking*)

Kanan: I get what you’re saying but this is a RESCUE mission FIRST and FOREMOST…–we’re coming up on Ezra’s last known coordinates.

NOT “Commander Sato’s last known coordinates” mind you, NOT even “Their ship’s last known coordinates” mind you. Not even something as paraphrased as “Where we lost track of them” or “Where we lost the signal.”

Emphasis on Ezra’s last known coordinates.
 (Am I still just imagining the whole spacedad is worried thing? Or is this canon? This has to be canon right? I need this to be canon, I NEED THIS TO BE CANON IT’S JUST TOO ADORABLE.)

And if you’re still in doubt that spacedad’s head is full of nothing but rescuing his blueberry spaceson; the MINUTE he says Ezra’s name, he goes from seriously arguing with Rex to overly concerned dad:

*arguing with Rex*

*mentioning his spaceson’s name and possibly mentally going through a million scenarios where his son is being tormented or tortured by the empire and he needs to hurry up and save him*

Additionally:

Kanan: Chopper, plug in and find Ezra and the crew!

Still no mention of Sato or the fact that the crew is actually Sato’s since Ezra literally just went along for the ride.

Chopper: *plugs in and makes incoherent bleeping noises about 3 seconds later*

Kanan: Transferred into a SECURE CELL?!

Kanan, your spacedad is showing.

Kanan: That means they know who he is! C’mon let’s go!

Knowing Kanan from the very first episode all the way up to this point as the rest of you all do–we all know he’s composed, quick-witted and quite in control. This is the first time I’ve seen him lose his cool since Ezra’s first brush with the Dark Side. And that was an extreme case. Even then he was quick to recover and rescue said spaceson with all due professionalism. 

Blueberry is known for escaping and being really good at it. Kanan knows this as evidenced later by this conversation with Sato:

Sato: He ESCAPED?

Kanan: Yeah, he tends to do that.
 (Did I detect a huge heaping of pride in that tone, spacedad?)

Kanan knows Ezra is capable of escaping and being fine on his own. And yet the exact moment when he discovers Blueberry has been found out he’s suddenly in the most hurry that I’ve ever seen him. He took longer to get to Master Luminara’s cell (in screen-time anyway, which I’m taking for estimation of real time in this case) than he did to find Ezra.

In fact, the encounter happened so fast even I was shocked that the two stormtroopers Ezra had shot turned out to be them!

Conclusion: Kanan Jarrus–confirmed spacedad. It’s canon. I love it.