#he’d probably slag it off

[the-60s]

The monumental film series will be the first time Apple Corps Ltd, The Beatles, and the families of John Lennon and George, have all agreed to hand over full life-story and music rights for a scripted movie.

'It's likely Sam will find four British rising stars to step into their shoes. But people are already talking about actors such as Barry Keoghan and Will Sharpe.'

[f1byjessie]

A PICTURE IS WORTH A THOUSAND WORDS ━━ LN4.

sometimes the right words are hard to come across, and sometimes everything you need to say can be captured in an image.

( lando norris x photographer!reader )

━━ part three.

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yourusername is it time for bahrain yet?! can’t wait to see these two back in action again soon! 🧡

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mclaren We keep asking ourselves the same thing! Our engines are ready and we’re raring to go! 🧡

↳ yourusername you truly understand me mclaren admin

↳ mclaren we think you’re the one who truly understands us y/n

↳ user y/n x mclaren admin?? 🤯 the plot twist none of us saw coming

user missing these lads so much lately

user THE RADIO SILENCE ON OSCAR’S SOCIALS WAS KILLING ME I DEPEND ON THESE MEN TOO MUCH THEY KEEP ME ALIVE 😭😭

user the f1 drought is real rn

user MCLAREN SUPREMACY 2024

↳ user i’m trying to be delulu but we all know it’s just gonna be the mv33 and redbull show again this year 🫤

user soooo are we all just gonna pretend like we didn’t see the pics of her with garrett ward orrrrr?

↳ user no bc i was just thinking the same thing 👀

↳ user wait that was actually her??? cuz you can like barely see her face so i thought it was just a joke???

user what a fake ass bitch

user she only posts other ppl on her acc cuz she knows her ugly ass face would scare everyone else away

user homegirl needs to stay tf away from my man fr 😤😤

user god what a hoe 😒 she already has these two that she could fuck with idk why she needed to go after garrett

user SLUT SLUT SLUT

user if she tries anything with anyone else on the city team i’m gonna lose my shit fr

↳ user same omg

↳ user honestly i’m just glad she didn’t go after grealish or haaland 🙌

↳ user she probably would’ve tried if they weren’t taken already 🙄

↳ user nah i bet she’s totally a homewrecker garrett’s probably just the first on her list

user oh… these comments… 😰

↳ user right???

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yourusername the city boys know how it’s done! and looking pretty good in orange too 😉

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mancity The lads are looking good indeed! This weekend’s match against Newcastle should be an exciting one! ⚽️🩵

mclaren ✍️ Jeremy ✍️ Doku ✍️ and ✍️ Ruben ✍️ Dias ✍️ McLaren ✍️ 2025

↳ mancity Do you think Lando Norris and Oscar Piastri would look good in sky blue? 🤔

user funny how she posts every city man BUT garrett

user god when does she go back to f1??

↳ user march iirc

↳ user well it can’t get here soon enough jfc

user FUCK OFF WE DON’T WANT YOU

user you’re a slag and should accept the fact that any guy would only want you bc of how easy you are

user i’ll bet my left leg that the only reason the f1 boys haven’t shacked up with her yet is cuz they know she’s probably riddled with disease since she drools over every guy that comes near her 😒 like girl needs to bffr and realize that throwing herself at every male in her vicinity isn’t gonna land her a husband and it just making her even more of a slut

↳ user nah i’ll bet they’ve all already done her over in f1 but nobody will touch her now that they’ve passed her round so she had to come over to football just to try and get someone to touch her again 🙄🙄🙄

user i hope garrett realizes how much of a slut she is and breaks up with her

user sick and tired of bitches like this getting with footballers and being all controlling. like i’ll bet she’s gonna tell garrett he can’t go out and party with his mates anymore bc he has to spend time in with her and then she’ll get all pissy about him having female fans bc she’s insecure and knows that if garrett got to meet a REAL fan he’d jump ship immediately. those of us who ACTUALLY care about footballers know their fans are super important to them and we wouldn’t hinder their relationship with them just bc we’re jealous or insecure. garrett needs to be with someone who actually supports him and is willing to let him do what he wants instead of controlling him like he’s a dog on a leash.

user kys like genuinely

user god i can’t wait for this skank to die 😒

“Hey Lando, it’s me. Your best friend. Again,” you give a humorless chuckle. “I could seriously use some of your wizened advice right about now, so, uh, please just give me a call back when you can. Thanks.”

It seems poetic in a cruel sort of way that less than a week ago you were walking Etihad Campus and feeling like you were on top of the world━ working a new albeit temporary gig, adding the Manchester City name to your list of clients, having photos of world-renowned footballers in your portfolio━ and now you’ve resigned yourself to hiding away in the women’s restroom, locked in a stall because it’s the only place you could think of where nobody would be able to find you.

You’re on the verge of tears and feeling rather stupid for it.

It’s the third time today alone that your call has gone straight to voicemail, and with the dozens of unread texts you’ve sent in the last week added to the mix, it’s starting to paint a picture you’re not very happy with. Lando is ignoring you. Or he’s blocked you. Or he’s blocked you because he’s ignoring you━

You bite down on your lip, hard, to keep back the sob crawling its way up your throat.

You’re not a PR officer, you hadn’t been lying when you told Garrett that, but you’ve spent enough time around the McLaren PR teams that you’ve picked up enough tips and tricks to know, at the very least, that the best thing you can do is just ignore the comments.

That’s what they tell all the athletes.

What they don’t tell the athletes is that ignoring the comments is much easier said than done, especially when your career requires you to have such a significant online presence. And the thing is, despite all of these strangers hounding you with every name under the sun and criticizing your capabilities, qualifications, and very existence, the thing that hurts the most is the radio silence from the only person you know could make it all better.

Now, more than ever, you need your best friend. But he isn’t here.

You tuck your phone into your jacket pocket and unlock the stall with great reluctance. You know better than to be hiding away, shirking your responsibilities while crying over a few missed phone calls. You have a job to do, and a real professional wouldn’t let something as simple as a handful of tasteless comments get in the way of that.

You should be used to them. It’s nothing you haven’t seen before.

Your first month at McLaren wasn’t entirely different.

When you were first hired on, Carlos had been in Formula One for a handful of years already and had built up a devotedly loyal fanbase with a decently large percentage of possessive fangirls who had come for your head the moment your existence had been announced.

The McLaren Instagram account had posted a picture of you standing between their two grinning drivers, your camera strung around your neck, with a very nice caption welcoming you to the team, and despite no indication that you were by any means involved with either of them in a way that went beyond professional, the comments had been taken over by feral teenage girls who saw the act of you simply standing near Carlos to be a direct threat against their “chances.”

Though it had been frustrating being met with childish threats and petty insults in your comments, you hadn’t really held it against any of them. You remember being a teenage girl and crushing on a celebrity. Deep down you knew you never had a chance with them, but that hadn’t stopped you from hanging posters in your bedroom and doodling their name beneath yours inside of scribbled hearts in your diary.

Regardless, it had taken close to a month for the negativity to die down, and you hadn’t had Lando then, either, so now shouldn’t be much different.

In fact, everyone on the Manchester City team━ trainers, physios, media coordinatiors, and anyone inbetween━ has been very polite about everything between you and Garrett. A lot of them have just avoided saying anything about it, which you’re very grateful for because you don’t think you’d be able to hold back your grimace while thanking them for their well wishes, and the few who have mentioned it typically only say something vague like a wishing you the best of luck or hoping you’re happy.

An intern gave you a sympathetic smile the other day, and you’d nearly burst into tears in the middle of the office of the Director of Communications, so you know you aren’t truly alone in this.

You just feel alone.

Exiting the bathroom is a simple affair. There’s no one standing post outside ready to give you any shit for being hidden away, and nobody comes sprinting around the corner as you make your way down the hall to the press conference room that’s been temporarily turned into your base of operations.

You think you’ll probably be able to go the rest of the afternoon without running into anyone, when you open your door and find━ sitting in the front row of the seats typically saved for journalists and the press, scrolling across his phone with a disinterested look painted across his face━ Jack Grealish.

“Jack,” you greet, a bit shocked. You close the door to the room gently behind you, and cross the distance to your desk. “Did we have a meeting scheduled? It must’ve completely slipped my mind, I sincerely apologize.”

He offers you a polite smile. “No, we didn’t, so no need to be sorry. I actually just wanted to check in. See how things are going with everything.”

You blink at him in surprise. Apart from Garrett, you haven’t really had much time to speak with the other players. They wish you good morning and good afternoon when they see you, and if a ball goes astray they always call out for you to watch your head, but between their morning training and their afternoon training, their strategy reviews at lunch, and the frequent in between meetings with physios, nutritionists, and trainers, they don’t get much time to chit chat with a simple photographer.

You clear your throat, “Erm, it’s going well. I’ve gotten some really good shots these past few days. There’s one with Rodrigo that I’m particularly proud of. It should do well with the fans.”

“And things with Ward?”

You purse your lips.

“Figured.” Jack sighs. “Look, nearly everyone you run into here knows or has at least some inkling into what he’s like. He’s a prick. None of the lads on the team like him, it’s why the managers are trying to get him out of here.”

You lower yourself down into your chair. “He told me they were planning to trade him off because of his reputation.”

Jack scoffs, “Yeah, ‘cause that’s the ‘official’ reason. They can’t cut his contract early for legal reasons, so they’re waiting for it to expire and coming up with an excuse for why they ain’t re-signing him. It’s really just ‘cause the rest of us can’t keep dealing with his massive ego and the fact that he’s a misogynistic fuck who doesn’t know the first thing about respect.”

“Fucking tell me about it,” you mutter with a sigh.

If he expected you to defend Garrett and is surprised by the fact that you haven’t, Jack doesn’t show it. He looks relaxed sitting across from you, like you’re having a casual conversation and not actively shit talking a member of his team. It gives you the impression that he knows significantly more about Garrett than you do, and that because of what he knows he probably figured out that one party in the relationship is not the most willing of participants.

“How’d you get all wrapped up it in then? Didn’t figure you to be the type to go after pricks like Ward.”

You debate over whether you should tell him or not. There isn’t much Jack can do about the situation regardless, but it would at least get things off your chest and if someone else knew then maybe you wouldn’t feel so alone anymore.

There’s only so many days you can spend hiding out in the women’s restroom trying not to bawl your eyes out, and you’ve already reached your limit.

You heave a sigh, “It’s kind of fucked up really.” A pen on your desk catches your attention and you start to fiddle with it, avoiding Jack’s eyes which have focused directly onto you. “He asked if I would help him fix up his reputation by pretending to be his girlfriend so he could show everyone that he’s matured and can hold down a steady relationship. When I told him no, he threatened to make up a lie about inappropriate conduct to get me fired and blacklisted from the industry, so for the sake of preserving my career I agreed.”

“Bloody fucking hell,” Jack murmurs, shaking his head. “I’m real sorry he did that, Y/N.”

You shrug. “It’s happened, so, there’s nothing I can really do except wait it out at this point.”

When you look up and meet his gaze, Jack looks murderous. His hands are clenched into fists on the armrests, knuckles white with the strength of his grip. His brows are furrowed, and his lips are twisted downward in a scowl.

“If you need anything,” he starts, “let me know. And I mean it. We all know how Ward can be. He’s a knobhead. So if you need anything━” his emphasis on the word and what that implies makes you feel more comforted than anything has since the whole fiasco started, “━then you let me know, or you tell one of the other boys and they’ll find me, alright?”

All you can do is nod.

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yourusername there’s no place like home

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━━ tags: @maih23 @urfavnoirette @leclercsluv @f1luvur @formulaal @a-disturbing-self-reflection @starlightpierre @chezmardybum @marshmummy @405rry

━━ a/n: no lando yet, but we've got a cutesy little grealish scene to make up for it because i couldn't have a story with manchester city and not include him! lowkey writing this part made me wanna write for a footballer too... anyways! hope you all enjoy!

[sim0nril3y]

First Meeting

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Civilian!Reader

Scenario: Being dragged out for the night with friends Simon find himself desperately trying to be alone when a girl with a broken shoe stumble across him.

Note: Set in 2014

Warnings: No mask Simon (It's my personal headcanon in his regular life he probably wouldn't wear it), briefs mentions of abuse, mentions of smoking, mentions of alcohol, suggestive conversation, mentions of age gap, derogatory comments. Note: I made this an OC rather than a Reader because she has her own backstory and family and dreams that may not align with the whole Reader aspect of writing. If you guys do want something like that let me know and I'll see if I can work something out.

30-08-2020 Edit: I’ve updated this fanfic to be a reader rather than OC.

Returning from deployment never really changed for Simon. It wasn’t something he ever enjoyed. There was something about the regiment of the forces that grounded him, something about the strict timelines and regulations. None of that mattered back home. It wasn’t like he could speak to his "friends" about the trauma of being away in war-torn countries. It wasn’t like they even asked; they knew better.

Occasionally on nights out Simon would get asked the rude question of his death tally. He’d simply brush off the question. Honestly, he wasn’t sure if he had a reasonable answer to it anymore. No, instead he would pretend like he didn’t hear as other friends chastised for even asking that sick question. Why was it sick? Did they not think of him as a killer? Maybe that tainted their idyllic persona of the perfect solider. Simon knew that war was disgusting and bloody and each time he took another life a little bit of his own chipped away too.

Stand outside he brought a cigarette to his lips, inhaling slowly and just enjoying the cold winter air. “Bollocks…” A voice slipped from beside him, glancing over his shoulder to see the slight frame of a woman bent down trying to repair the band of her high-heel. As always, he stayed quiet, used to just observing and not interrupting the flow. “Need some help, sweetheart~” A drunk came stumbling in her direction.

In an instant she shot to her feet, stumbling in her broken heel as you turned to face the offending man. “Oh-” “Gonna catch y’death out here, sweetheart. Specially in that little dress…” He commented and Simon gave himself a moment to take in your outfit, it was particularly short from a night-out in January, not that any of the other birds were dressed any different. “Why don’t we get a taxi back to my flat.” He offered and Simon saw the way your shoulders seemed to tense at the suggestion. “Oi…” His voice began before his brain registered that this was a poor idea. “Fuck off and leave her alone.”

“The fuck you think you are?” Came a drunken drawl back in his direction. “Think I’m gonna be your problem if you don’t leave her alone.” He rose then, towering over the two of them you, double both your weight, double both your size. “Pshh… fuckin’ have the slag…” Drunkenly he turned and stumbled back into the club. “Thanks…” Your voice was small as you tilted your had up to make eye-contact. “S’nothing…” Then turning he moved back to where he was sitting.

“Mind if I join you?” Your voice was quiet, flasing a packet of cigarettes in his direction. “Not gonna stop you.” Simon answered with a short shrug. “Fuckin’ shoe…” You grumbled under your breath before joining him delicately, sitting close enough that it looked friendly but far enough away to give him plenty of space. It a light voice your informed him your name. It was pretty. It suited you. The way your voice cut through the cold air, warm personality shining even on this night.

Simon didn’t reply, simply continued to smoke his cigarette in the quiet whilst you lit up your own beside him. “Y’even old enough to be in there?” Suddenly you looked at him before snickering. “Turned 21 months ago.” You announced proudly. “Even got my ID to prove it.” Fuck, you was young. 9 years younger than him, in fact. Whilst he was being beaten and abused by his sick father you was just coming into this world. Fuck, don’t think about any of that. “So, do I get to know your name? Gonna have to tell the story of how a dashing smoker saved me from a weirdo.”

Dashing? Were you flirting with him? You… were way out of his league. Jesus, why was you even paying him any mind when you could go home with practically any lad in there. Why did that sentiment bother him so much? “Simon.” He ground out finally, putting a firm stop to his inner monologue. “Nice name.” “No, it’s not. Just a name.” He couldn’t help the smirk that tugged at his lips. “Don’t be stupid.” He watched the way your pretty face contorted into a smile and then fell into a fit of giggles. It was fucking bliss. The way that you laughed. It was almost fucking musical, or at least it was to Simon’s ears. “Nice fuckin’ name…” He repeated shaking his head. “Kid, you’ve got to work on technique a bit.” Then shaking his head as he took another long drag of his cigarette.

“Well, maybe you could help with that…” Your voice was suggestive and inquisitive, putting the question out there loosely enough that he could see it as a joke or an invitation. “M’sure there are plenty boys your age that could help with that.” There was finality to his tone that even you could sense. Jesus, you were 21 by your own confession. You was so fresh and new to the dating scene. He, on the other hand, was just beginning his 30s, though his years of service made him feel a lot older. There was no way he could just fuck around with a girl like you. It wouldn’t fair.

Sensing his apprehension you simply shrugged your shoulders, as carefree as ever and then muttered. “Maybe~” Nabbing a nearby empty cigarette packet and jotting down your details onto the card before sliding it in his direction. “Guess if you change your mind, you know where to find me.”

A flurry of girls stumbled from the club, surrounding her in a moment in a loud chatter of excitement. “We’ve been looking for you everywhere!” “C’mon, next club~” “Who is that?” “What happened to your shoe?” The questions buzzed around his mind and you kept his gaze until whisked away by her friends. “Fuckin’ hell…” Cursing under his breath as he inspected the packet between his fingers, taking the final drag of his cigarette and then flicking it aside.

Masterlist | Ask | 28-08-2023

[training4theapocalypse]

PLEASE do what Scots actually say I’m so curious

Soap x Reader Scottish Dialogue Inspo

To celebrate Burns Night, here are some realistic smutty Scottish terms and some general stuff to do with relationships. Feel free to use this if you find it helpful 🏴󠁧󠁢󠁳󠁣󠁴󠁿

Disclaimer: my tiny country is made up of countless accents and Soap is canonically from Kilmarnock but his voice actor is from Elgin so who TF knows what he’d actually say.

I also don’t think you need to write in Scots either - I’m Scottish and I don’t (unless am absolutely ragin aboot somethin’) but I can see why you’d want to for Soap’s dialogue. 

Behave yersel’

This is easy - it’s just ‘behave yourself’ but it can be used as a smutty admonishment.

“I’ll sleep on the couch - you take the bed.”

“Behave yersel’,” says Soap, unfastening his belt.

Bonny / Bonnie

Spell it whichever way you like. This is primarily an adjective but I see it used as a noun in fic. All. The. Time. It was used a long time ago as a noun - and maybe it still is further north - but where I / Soap are from it's really only used as an adjective these days.

“What do you think of the new recruit, Captain?”

“Aye, she’s bonny, awryt.”

But use this sparingly - and only to describe a person as a whole and not individual body parts. (e.g. you wouldn’t say “Your tits are so bonny.”) 

Darlin’ / Doll

The two most common pet names I hear from men here. It is ROUGH as anything and makes me melt. Ughhhh. 🥵

“D’ye like whit ye see, doll?”

Fuckin’ hell

An exclamation that’s pretty ubiquitous across the UK. Soap would 100% say this after sex or if he was surprised by something that made him horny. From clips of Soap I’ve seen I know he says “Steamin’ hell” too but I’ve never heard this IRL.

You sit in Soap’s office, perched on his desk wearing your new lingerie.

He opens the door and freezes, jaw on the floor.

“… Fuckin’ hell.”

Gads 

This is a very specific Kilmarnock / Ayrshire thing (which is where Soap’s file says he’s from). And it comes from a very old-timey phrase ‘egads!’ which is hilarious to me.

Gads can be used as an exclamation for something shocking (OR something cringe depending on the context).

“You honestly think that I snuck into your room because my bed was uncomfortable? I want you to fuck me, Soap.”

He swallows. “... Gads.” 

Gantin’ for it

AKA Gagging for it. Juvenile way to describe being horny. Soap would probably say this about himself in a jokey way. 

“You alright, Soap?”

“Aye, aye. I’ve just been gantin’ for it ever since that new lassie joined.”

Lassie / Lass

Girl. Younger. (Pop off age difference fics)

Missus

Literally “Mrs” but surprisingly not just used to refer to your wife. Really commonly used to refer to a girlfriend.

“Look, whatever the missus wants she gets. Awryt?”

Wee (insert expletive)

Literally call me whatever you want as long as you put ‘wee’ in front of it. Wee bitch, wee slag, wee slut (omggggggg). 

Soap tuts, as you writhe against his thigh. “Yer an impatient wee thing, aren’t ye?”

Anyway, that's all I've got for now- if I think of any more, I'll add to this. You don't need to credit me if you actually use this - I like to think of it as service to my country 🫡

P.S. This made me realise I've only ever had sex with Scottish people so maybe some of this is just normal sex stuff and not Scotland specific???? HAHAHAHA

P.P.S. I was getting really into the dialogue so I've written a short fic about Reader x Soap.

[jamiesfootball]

Augusnippets Day 8

Prompt: friends

cw: fire, ambiguous ending

Summary:

“–The electrical fire, which broke out in the early morning hours–” They’re not friends.

They’re not friends with Jamie, not anymore.

Sure, when the prick first slunk off back to Manchester, Isaac and him had kept mum on that fact. Pretty easy, since in the odd silence of his unexpected absence, no one had wanted to bring him up at all – especially when the gaffer didn’t say anything beyond the fact that he’d left. But then Jamie never responded to any of their texts and he started slagging on them to reporters and isaac through a chair through a TV and –

Work colleagues, that’s what they’d been. Friends, in the sense that when you lived a hectic life, it was easier to hang out with people who worked the same schedule as you. They were acquaintance-friends. Bonded by necessity-friends, the kind that had started to tear when Jamie wouldn’t stow the attitude with Lasso and had split like a wet napkin once he was out of their lives completely.

Mostly out of their lives. Them not being friends was what made it acceptable for the team to have a separate, non-Ted-approved group chat for hate-watching Lust Conquers All.

Maybe once upon a time they had been friends, but they weren’t anymore.

That’s what Colin tried to remind his loudly thumping heart as he stood crushed against O’Brien’s side, the whole team crowded ‘round to listen to the video playing on Zoreau’s phone.

“–The fire, which broke out in the early morning hours, was quick to spread through the beachfront property which has now been confirmed as the current filming location for the popular reality TV show Lust Conquers All. First responders on the scene stated–”

“There’s more video of it online,” Cockburn reported, scrolling through his phone. “It leaked this morning on TikTok – a bunch of people ran onto the beach screaming in their underwear. People have been saying all morning that it’s the same house, but the production company wouldn’t make a statement.”

Muscle memory had Colin grabbing Isaac’s shoulder before he could storm forward. “You knew?! Why the fuck didn’t you say anything?”

“It wasn’t confirmed,” Cockburn defended himself weakly. He’d been quiet when he rolled into training, but he was quiet most of the time. Colin had never heard him sound rattled.

They weren’t friends, Colin repeated to himself as Cockburn buried his face in his hands, digging the heels of his palms into eye sockets and scrubbing furiously. Having a mutual obsession with watching trickshots on YouTube did not make two people friends. 

“You guys,” said Sam softly, and if there were anyone in the room now that wouldn’t call Jamie Tartt a friend, it was him. “They are saying that members of the cast were taken to hospital in critical condition.”

Usually Sam stood taller than most of the team. Sitting on the floor with his knees curled up and his phone cradled helplessly between his hands, he looked small.

He’d been the first to turn away from the video. Colin could understand that. He was a sensitive lad. It was probably the flames that did it – nasty, violent things that towered over the fragile beach house, licking through a high-pitched whistling– no, a screaming–

They weren’t friends.

Colin conjured up the memory of watching City celebrate over Richmond’s ashes; shame and grief so thick he could choke on it as Richmond sank to relegation.

They weren’t friends. 

The footage looped, replaying the moment when the south wall collapsed, bringing the roof down with it as bystanders shouted frantically for help.

“–no explanation has yet been given to explain the authorities’ poor response time–”

“Any word on who it was?” asked Goodman, like Sam wouldn’t have led with that.

Goodman had seemed to like Jamie when he was here. They’d gone out drinking together. He’d been there the night Roy headbutted Colin in the face. He hadn’t hung out with Colin or Isaac since.

“They can’t say who until that person’s family has been contacted,” Beard said matter-of-factly before Colin could chase that thought any further. It was the first thing any of the coaches had said since they rushed into the gym, spurred by the commotion.

He had his arms crossed tightly over his chest. His hat, pulled down low, cast unhappy shadows on his usually unreadable features. Compared to Beard, Nate was an open book,  shell-shocked and appalled and a bit grey like he’d be fainting any second now. Ted–

Ted was leaving.

They weren’t friends.

The gym doors swung open and closed again as Ted disappeared.

They weren’t friends.

The team stayed huddled together as the broadcast lapsed into repetition, starting again from the top of the story now that new information had slowed to a crawl. Thierry, who hadn’t said a word since he’d called the team over with a hoarse gasp, still had one hand pressed over his mouth. Dani hung listlessly off his shoulder, his usually cheerful demeanour replaced with a stormcloud and a heavy brow that’make Roy Kent jealous.

They weren’t friends.

Someone should call Keeley, but Colin didn’t have her number. Not her direct line, the one that wasn’t tied to Nelson Road. He’d had it back when she was the half of Jamie-and-Keeley that could be relied upon to always have her phone on her and wouldn’t forget to text back. Because Jamie did that sometimes. In the middle of a conversation, he’d set his phone down, and then he’d get distracted, and five million years later Isaac and Colin would show up at his house with whatever food they’d ordered for him because Jamie had never texted back what he wanted, and it’d be annoying if he didn’t always look surprised and a bit sheepish. Forgot his phone on the bathroom sink. Set it down in the yard to do keepie-uppies and lost track of time. 

“What’d you order – oh, that’s fucking mint, that is. Next one’s on me,” he’d add with a quick grin. Friendlier, when he was away from football and everything to do with it.

He’d helped Isaac drag Colin to hospital, that time with the concussion. Sent the girls home with Goodman and sat with him at the A&E for ages after Roy Kent left him seeing stars. Isaac had muttered something about it later – how Jamie probably didn’t want to go home with Keeley after being scolded by Roy in front of her – but he’d also helped Isaac get Colin’s car home when Colin had moaned at them about not wanting to get a parking ticket.

They’re not friends.

If they were friends, Isaac wouldn’t be furious right now, his grip painful around Colin’s arm as Jamie’s phone once again goes to voicemail.

They’re not friends, because if they were friends, they’d know who to contact to make sure this was all some misunderstanding, because surely Jamie would’ve called someone. They’d know who that someone was – if he had a mum who needed checking up on or a dad who on his way to the airport.

They’re not friends, because the last message Colin had sent from a karaoke bar in Everton had gone completely unanswered and was still sitting at the bottom of his message history:

“Don’t be like that, boyo. Call us.”

They’re not friends, because Colin had never even typed any of the follow up messages he’d wanted to send after being struck dumb by the news that Jamie had completely abandoned City at the beginning of the season:

“What the fuck are you doing? Are you crazy? Like, have you actually lost your mind?”

“Are you on drugs? You can tell me, this is a secure line.”

“Seriously tho man, you in crisis? Blink twice for help.”

(“Are you okay?”)

They’re not friends.

The sombre news reporter confirmed delicately that they’d have the list of names of the victims soon.

They’re not friends, Colin repeated, because it was true. They were, but now they’re not. Maybe they could’ve been, if he stuck around. If something had changed after the ghost room fire, maybe he’d be hunched over Theirry’s phone like the rest of them.

“–incomplete list, with members of cast and crew still being assessed for injuries–”

They’re not friends.

So how come it fucking hurt?

“–sources have confirmed that two contestants, Danthony Rodgers and Jamie Tartt, are amongst those reported to be in critical condition. No further information has been released at this time.”

[listerbirdloml]

this was probably from ages ago but some fun asks for you; favorite lister headcannons? [I]

OOH idk man i’m shit at head cannons ALSO THIS WAS SAT IN MY DRAFTS FOR AGES IM SO SORRY I THOUGHT I POSTED IT

- well in my mind i always read him with a northern english accent and i’m not sure why. i know he’s from kent like Rowan + Jimmy but he just gives off northern vibes idk. and after learning that his dads scottish i can also see him using lots of Scottish slang terms.

- i think he’s a slag for a bit of pop too. Britney, Ariana, Taylor, Reneé, you name it. he gets a bit embarrassed though so he turns off his AirBuds when he wants to listen to girly pop music. he has the widest music taste out of the ark, so his Spotify wrapped is always mental. he posts them every year and not once has the same song appeared in his top listened to

- ik he’s not like blonde blonde but i think his natural hair is a lot darker but he’s been dying it blonder since he first met Jimmy and Rowan. when the ark are on hiatus he lets it grow out to his natural colour for a bit.

- he tried to grow a stache one time but Rowan shaved it while he slept. Also he didn’t know how to shave when he first met Jimmy and Rowan, so Pierro taught him. Pierro also taught him how to tie a real tie rather than use a clip on one.

- Joan LOVED lister. she would always fuss over him when he would come over. When he’d come round he would help her in the garden, but really he was terrible and Joan would always have to fix his mistakes. when he told her about how he and his mum would listen to albums together when he was little, she began showing him her collection of old records from when she was a teen/young adult. when she died she left Lister a few of his favourites. Lister keeps them hidden at all times so when he was hosting parties there was no chance they’d get damaged. after they stopped having so many people over Lister kept them displayed in the living room.

- i think that before he and Jimmy got together he had healthy and fun relationship with someone unrelated. it’s not anything ridiculously serious but it helps him see what he should realistically be looking for and what he deserves. it’s not like he’s using the person though, and he actually really likes them. they eventually end things amicably though, and stay good friends.

- it says on the WIKI article alice wrote for him that he has three half siblings. as far as i can think there’s no canon information about them other than that, so i like to HC that they are all from his dads second marriage and they don’t talk much since Lister hasn’t been to visit his dad in years. the ages are;

1.) Lister (19-20)

2.) a sister who’s like 17ish, she’s super embarrassed about the whole ark thing and is reluctant to rebuild a relationship with him again when he reaches out to her post IWBFT, because she remembers how he used to constantly fight with their dad when he’d come over for christmas / two weeks in the summer holidays. when they do start to reconnect and get closer she helps him bond with their dad too. (maybe she’s called Maya?)

3.) a younger brother who’s 13ish and a total TWAT. they look really similar and he’s just like how Lister was in school but he’s hilarious and really admires Lister. somehow he’s stupid smart though, even if he’s class clown. i think he reaches out to Lister when he’s still in the hospital after the incident. i also think it would be funny if the younger brother’s celebrity crush was Jimmy but his image of jimmy is completely shattered when he meets him properly. (i call him Brodie in my head)

4.) his youngest sister who’s like 7 who barely remembers lister but once they get closer she has him wrapped around her little finger. he almost bought her a horse once but Jimmy and Rowan had to remind him that a 7 year old who lives in a city centre can not logistically look after a whole horse. (i think her names Eilidh)

- the ark move from the flat into a house just outside london and he makes sure they all have a room so they can visit whenever they want to.

- after getting to know them better, he gets really close with Angel and Juliet. the three of them and Bliss have “girls” nights in the arks flat. when Listers hair grows they teach him how to pleat it. he gets really good and when he starts seeing his half siblings again he pleats his sisters hair for them)

sorry idk man i yapped a bit 🤷‍♀️

[resident-gay-bitch]

⭐️ Sirius Sundays ⭐️

Skirts are for boys too

It's safe to say that Sirius is quite mad. 

Honestly, why is a thing such as a uniform causing this much controversy throughout the school? So what if the girls decided to rock up in trousers one day? He would too, if he had boys looking up his skirt everytime he took to the staircase. It’s gross. 

It baffles him just how daft some people can be, calling the girls a bunch of queers for what they’re wearing on their bottom half. It’s even more ridiculous, considering they wear jeans and other types of trousers casually on the weekends, and Hogsmeade trips. He really can’t grasp why it’s so odd for them to suddenly rock up in the boys uniforms one day. 

So old fashioned, really. 

They’re sitting in the common room now, chatting as they usually do. And Mary states that she’s just going to go back to wearing a skirt tomorrow. She doesn’t want to deal with the comments all day. Marlene retaliates, saying she hates the fucking skirts, and Lily agrees, expressing how Thomas actually commented on her knickers the other day. However, by the end of the conversation, Lily and Mary decide that they’re going back to skirts, and Marlene angrily decides to suffer the commentary alone. 

Sirius thinks this is stupid. 

One, people should feel comfortable in their clothes. And two, who gives a fuck? Why are there specific gendered uniforms? Why can’t clothes just be clothes? 

So, after some thought, he knocks on the girls dormitory the next morning, and requests a skirt. 

They all give him weird looks, and he tells them it’s for a prank, of sorts. 

Marlene tosses her skirt at him with a huff, begging him to please take it, burn it, whatever he wants. And so Sirius takes it. 

And then he sauntered into the Great Hall for breakfast, right at the busiest moment, dressed in the girls uniform. 

Honestly, he looks quite good in it. He’s given it his own ruggish look, the shirt untucked, his tie all crooked, his robes slung over his arm rather than on so everyone can see. He’s even got some cute socks on with little frills on the top that he’d accidentally snatched from Mary on their group holiday over the summer that he was yet to return, and they stuck out over the top of his boots. 

As he entered the great hall, all eyes fell on him and silence took over. But he ignored it, smiling as he waved at his friends, twisting his wand out of his hair and plunking it on the table. 

“These things are drafty, it’s honestly nice.” He muttered, smoothing his skirt over his arse as he took a seat, “Though I get what you mean about them being short. I don’t think I’ve ever had so much thigh on display. I doubt I’ll do any bending over of any sort today.”

Marlene was laughing her arse off, “It’s probably because you’re almost a foot taller than me, Black. If I knew you were planning on wearing it I would have said something.”

“Hmm, well, I’m sure someone will appreciate it.” 

Marlene snickered, elbowing Remus in the side, “Yeah, someone.”

“Piss off.” He muttered under his breath. 

“How long do you think it will take for him to get dress-coded?” Lily asked. 

“Depends how homophobic the teachers are.“ He shrugged, “I do love a good challenge though, I thought the socks were a nice touch.”

“Yeah, that’s because they’re mine, you slag.” Mary muttered. 

“Isn’t a compliment to you that I incorporated them into my outfit?” He grinned at her, cheerily, making her laugh. 

“Do you reckon if we put some lipstick on him, ol’ Slyggy will think he's a girl?” James asked, nudging Peter. 

Peter snickered, “Yeah, he looks like one.”

“Maybe give him a bow?” Remus added, all of them teasing now, “A cute little pink one.” 

“Do you reckon he’s got a bra on under there?” Pete grinned. 

“Careful Mary, you might want to make sure he hasn’t stolen your knickers too.” 

Mary laughed, grinning over at Sirius, “Did you steal my knickers too, Sirius?” 

“I think if you put some eyeshadow on him too, you’ll even be able to trick Flitwick.” James said. 

“Oh, yeah, some sparkles would really bring out his eyes.” Remus added. 

“Get him all dolled up in pink.” Pete smirked. 

“I know you think you’re insulting me, but really all I’m getting from your commentary is that you think I’m pretty.” Sirius said, flipping his hair over his shoulder before getting himself some toast, “So go on, bag on about how gorgeous you think I am. All you’ll be doing is making me think you’re desperate for a shag.” 

“Oh, I think someones desperate for a shag.” Marlene commented, pumping her eyebrows over at Remus. 

Sirius sighed, sending her an unimpressed glare, “You say that as if you’re not desperate to get in Mary’s pants yourself-”

“Shuddup.” Marlene grumbled, blushing bright red. 

“Don’t tease her, Sirius.” Mary grinned. 

“Oh, so you all can tease me, but I can’t-”

“Mister Black.” The familiar echo of McGonagall's voice cut over their morning squabbles, and everyone looked up at her, looming over Sirius’ shoulder. 

“Morning, Minnie.” He said sheepishly, turning to grin up at her, “Lovely day, isn’t it? Sun's shining, birds are sing-”

McGonagall cleared her throat and pointed to the ground in front of her, a silent command for Sirius to stand before her. So, he bowed his head and hopped up from the table, hands tucked behind his back and toes turned together and everything. 

“Mister Black, considering the countless times I’ve had to tell you off and deduct points for your incorrect use of the uniform, I would have thought you’d have made yourself familiar with what's appropriate.” She eyed him over, “I can see now, that is not the case.”

“Sorry, Miss.” He muttered, blushing down at his feet. 

“If you are not changed into the appropriate uniform by your first class, I will have to deduct twenty points from Gryffindor. Do you understand me, Mister Black?” 

Sirius cleared his throat and nodded up at her, “Yes, Miss.” 

“As I’ve told you before, black leather, low heeled lace up shoes, or a simple Mary-Jane are viable. Large boots are not.” 

“Wait-” Sirius glanced up at her, “You’re telling me off for my shoes?”

“What else would I be telling you off for, Mister Black?” She arched an eyebrow up at him, the tiniest of grins on her lips. 

“I…” He smiled, nodding his head at her, “No, nothing, Miss. Promise I’ll fix my shoes for class.” 

“Very well.” She nodded, taking a few steps forward to quietly whisper to him in passing, “If any Professors try to tell you to change from that skirt today, Mister Black, come find me. I will not allow any detentions for that.” She smiled, swishing her wand down at his skirt to subtly make it grow a few inches. 

He smiled up at her as she drifted down the hall, smoothing his hands over his skirt, now at a more appropriate length down his thighs. He laughed and sat back down at the table, and Mary leaned into him, grabbing his hair to give him a couple of braids. 

“I can’t believe you just got away with that.” Remus muttered. 

“I can.” Marlene shrugged, stirring her porridge around sloppily, “She’s bloody brilliant about that stuff, doesn’t give a fuck. She’s trying to persuade Dumbledore to add girls' trousers to the uniform, you know, cause they’ll fit better.” 

As Mary braided his hair, and the lot of them continued to eat their breakfast, some crude commentary was thrown around the hall. A lot of students tried to taunt Sirius, calling him a queer or a transexual, but he simply chose to ignore it. By the end of breakfast, James was so red in the face about all the rude shit said about his best friend, he looked as though he were about to burst. 

“It’s bloody stupid.” He said, stomping his feet as they all moved back to the Gryffindor tower so Sirius could change his shoes before class. “So bloody stupid, who cares if he’s in a skirt? It’s just a skirt! Just clothes-”

“That’s exactly the point, James.” Sirius smiled back at him, “Honestly, the whole point of this was to stir a little attention. Not one person has said anything about Marlene today, have they?” 

“Wait, what?” Marlene asked, furrowing her brow at him, “You did this because…”

“Yeah, I guess?” Sirius shrugged, “I’ve also just always wanted to try a skirt on. Really, the draft is lovely.” 

“Is this… a protest?” Lily asked, “Are you protesting the bloody uniforms?” 

“Yeah, I ‘spose.” He said, marching towards the staircase in the common room, “I mean, who gives a fuck about what clothes you wear, right? And if you wear pants enough, and I wear a bloody skirt enough, they’ll stop commenting on it.” 

“You plan on wearing it again?” Mary asked. 

“Yeah?” Sirius smiled at her, stopping on the bottom staircase, “You heard what those gits said, I’m pretty.” He laughed before bounding up the stairs. 

The girls chased after him, bombarding him with questions that he thought may have been a little much. It was just a skirt, and so what if he’s queer? He’s not wearing a skirt because he’s queer. He’s just wearing a skirt because he wants to wear a skirt and he thinks it’s stupid that people think he can’t wear a skirt. What about it? 

By the time he’s come back down, Lily’s stuck flower pins in his braids, and Mary’s given him her raspberry lipgloss to try out. And on his feet are a pair of Marlene's old Mary-Janes that they had to use an enlargement charm on. Honestly, he feels pretty great. 

They come back down to the common room chatting amongst themselves about very regular things, when the boys are suddenly awkwardly shuffling towards them. 

“What’s your problem?” Sirius asks with a quirk of his eyebrow, “I swear, if you’re going to tell me to take all of this off-”

“No.” James cuts in, “We think it’s brilliant.” 

“Yeah, pretty…” Remus sighed, his eyes skating over Sirius again, “Uh- I mean, yeah, brilliant.” 

“We want in.” Peter said, leaning in front of James, “On the skirt thing.”

“How about a trade?” James grinned, puffing his chest up, “We’ll lend you girls our trousers, and you lend us your skirts?”

Mary and Lily looked between each other, then back at the boys with grins, “I mean, we already have trousers…”

“Oh, right.” Remus nodded, looking down at the ground. 

“You can have our skirts though.” 

They were all immediately elated. 

“If you let us make you all pretty.” Mary cut in. 

“Oh, this is gonna be brilliant.” Marlene chuckled. 

“Dibs on Lily giving me a makeover!” James said, already bounding up the stairs. 

By the time they came back down, they were almost late for class. All four boys in skirts, lip gloss, with pins and barretts and braids and pigtails in their hair. Sirius thought they all looked very pretty, actually. And the girls were elated, dressed in their comfy trousers finally. And yeah, no one said shit about the girls uniforms when the Marauders walked into class in skirts. 

And by the end of the week, no one had any more negative commentary to say about it. Sirius' trousers were long abandoned.

also heres some art i did for this:

[goatcheesecak3]

Maybe a story where the reader helps clean and patch up Gavin after a rough bar fight.

Gavin Ellis X F!reader

Fic type: fluff

Warnings: mention of physical altercation, blood, alcohol

Summary: Your boyfriend, Gavin, comes home drunk out of his mind and it's your job to patch him up.

A/N hello! sorry it took me so long to get around to this, but i hope you enjoy it! if anyone wants the m!reader version just let me know! also, sorry if the formatting is weird, i'm posting this from my laptop lmao

Midnight. Gavin had gone out for drinks with Ray a few hours ago, and he still wasn’t home. Initially, y/n hadn’t been worried, she knew Gavin wouldn’t risk going anywhere too sleazy with Ray, not after the last time he had roped Ray into that world. Unbelievably, even being used as a drug mule by Gavin wasn’t enough to make Ray give up on him. They needed eachother in certain ways, Ray kept Gavin grounded and sensible, and Gavin made sure Ray actually had fun – y/n was more than grateful that her asshole boyfriend had at least one responsible and kind friend. However, as the minutes ticked on by, she felt herself growing anxious. What if Gav had left Ray to go see some of his old “work associates”? what if he’d gotten himself arrested? Oh god, what if he was dead in a ditch somewhere? What if- *CLUNK * - the front door opened.

“y/n? are you up?” she heard a familiar voice call softly from the hall. It was Ray, with a nearly comatose Gavin slung over his shoulder like a bindle.

“Christ! How much did the silly prick drink?” y/n gasped.

“Enough to get in a punch up with a guy twice his size” Ray answered, his voice shy, but light hearted, as though he was unsure if he was allowed to laugh.

“Just dump him on the sofa, Ray, I’ll take him up to bed after I clean that blood off his face”

Ray obliged.

“You’re a saint for putting up with him,” y/n chuckled, reaching into her purse, “here, get yourself a cab home, your mum must be worried sick by now”

…

“Agh… what the…” Gavin winced as he came back around

“Shhh, don’t be a baby” y/n teased, dabbing a cut on his lip with an alcohol pad.

“When did I get hom- OW! Can you cut that out?!”

“about ten minutes ago, Ray carried you here”

Gavin’s tired eyes filled with dread.

“did he tell you about…”

“the fistfight? Yeah, it might’ve come up” y/n said, raising her eyebrows and shooting him a pissed off look.

Gavin knew he fucked up, he’d promised y/n he’d stay on the straight and narrow, he knew how much it upset her when he got into fights. He was on thin ice with the law as it was, he should have been keeping his head down and his nose clean- easy as pie in theory, but when some cunt at the bar shouts “Oi Gav, yer new bird dresses like a slag” it gets particularly difficult.

“Babe, it’s not what you think, this dickhead was saying all sorts of horrible shit about you, I was like… defending your honour” Gavin stumbled over his words, desperately trying to explain himself.

Y/n’s expression softened.

“You’re an idiot, Gav. I don’t need you to beat people up for me. That guy probably didn’t even know who I was, more than likely he just wanted to get a rise out of you” She sighed as she applied some ointment – more gently this time – onto a scrape on his cheek.

“C’mon, don’t I get any credit at all for trying to stick up for you? Look at how busted up my lip is!” Gavin whined slightly, a cheeky grin forming on his face.

Y/n attempted to stay serious, but she couldn’t help herself from smiling.

“If I kiss it better will you pack it in?”

“Maybe”

She leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss onto Gavin’s still slightly bloody lips.

“better?”

“much better” Gavin grinned, his eyes droopy and a big dopey smile plastered on his face.

“c’mon you big softie, let’s get you some rest. You’ve got a lovely headache to look forward to tomorrow” Y/N teased, taking Gavin’s hand and kissing his cheek lovingly. God he was an idiot, but a cute idiot.

[spreadwardiard]

WIP

Just wanted to share a little over 400 words from a no war au (wtf is canon who needs that?) megop, mechpreg, fluff piece, one shot I'm working on. its just pure sugar idk what else to say. probably hella ooc. The fic is SFW, only a few mentions of sexual themes. Fic doesn't even have a title yet its in my files as mechpregdomesticfluff 🤣

WIP under the cut lemme know what you think!

“I chilled them. Look in the cooling unit.” The blip of joy that leaked into Orion’s field once he finally spotted the can made Megatronus’ spark thrum.  Once upon a time he would have tried to explain that away as anything other than the effects of being helm over pede in love with Orion. Now he just counted himself the luckiest mech in the universe to be loved in return. “You need to have more than rust sticks. Take a cube, too.” 

Orion laughed softly as he complied, grabbing two of the small cubes along with his favored rust stick treats. “Next time you should carry. You clearly have the better instinct for it. And the better frame.  Though I would be missing out on all the incredible overloads.” Orion’s plating rattled, from the back of his neck down his spinal strut to his aft, as if he’d had an involuntary shiver at some phantom sensation. 

Megatronus laughed at that, and strode across their hab suite, to meet Orion in the kitchen.  “Are the overloads the best part of carrying?” He stepped up behind him, slipped his arms around his waist so that he could get his servos on that exquisitely swollen abdomen once more.  Orion leaned into the embrace and rested his helm comfortable against Megatronus’ chest plates, a content grin on his face as he lifted a servo to offer a cube to his champion. 

“No. But they are in the top five.” Orion said with a content sigh. Megatronus regretfully withdrew one of his servos to take the offered cube. He paid much more attention to the way Orion’s plates felt under his servo than the taste of the energon he gulped down. Orion greedily shoved an entire rust stick down his intake, as if he were famished. 

“What’s number one?” He finished the cube in record time, and quickly set it aside, his servo had a better place to be.  Orion chewed noisily, unworried about looking uncouth as he stuffed his face with his treat of choice and crunched it between his dentae. 

“Mmm... I’m not sure... I have to turn… that one over a few times… in my processor.” Orion continued to eat as he spoke, finishing off his third stick. Finally he tipped the cube to his intake.  It eased Megatronus’ spark to see him consume some actual fuel. Lately all he’d been craving were those slagging rust sticks.  It was a wonder he hadn’t cracked his dentae on them with how many he’d been consuming these past few deca-cycles. 

to be continued

[aquadestinyswriting]

A Circle None Can Break- Part Fourteen point five

Summary: Edwin has stayed up way past his usual bedtime for Selene to come back from the Cathedral.

Words: 784

Warnings: trigger warnings for drunkenness

Notes: a cute little aside that wouldn't fit into the main chapter. Don't worry, Chrackle didn't have anything to drink directly, he just happened to be in Selene's proximity

tags: @druidx, @sparrow-orion-writes , @homesteadchronicles, @warriorbookworm, @mariahwritesstuff, @writeblrsupport, @ashirisu, @thesorcerersapprentice, @blind-the-winds, @philosophika, @the-down-upside-finch

Edwin looked nervously into the pint he’d been nursing for the last two and half hours. It had been at least four hours since Selene had been escorted away from the front door of Fangthane, along with Meredith, by Captain Bloodvein. Gruk had happily informed Edwin and Snorri that Meredith had been returned home over two hours ago. What in all the hells was taking Selene so long? He jumped as Snorri collapse into the seat next to him with a weary groan, having thrown out the last patron of the night and finally shut the door.

“Tell ye what, I’m glad all that kerfuffle’s done.” he sighed, “As much as I appreciate the extra business, it’s a right bother at the end o’ the night.” The ex-slayer’s eyes narrowed as he noticed how much was left in Edwin’s cup, “C’mon lad, cheer up. Yon wizard’s fine. The king’s changed his mind, so I doubt she’s been chucked out now.” he encouraged. Edwin shook his head,

“I’m sorry Snorri, but I was expecting her to be back hours ago. What if Selene lost her temper again and is back in the dungeons after all that effort? What if –” Edwin’s tired mind screeched to a stop as the side door creaked open, causing his head to whip around just in time to see a sheepish Selene close the door behind her,

“It’s late, I know, I’m so sorry.” she apologised, “After His Majesty agreed that he would let Meredith help, we got chatting and we completely lost track of time.” Edwin’s worried frown lifted into an amused smirk as he took in the flush across Selene’s cheeks and ears,

“You sure it was just the talking that made you lose track of what time it was and not the wine?” Selene shook her head,

“Of course not! We didn’t have that much.” she protested. Edwin simply continued smiling at her as Chrackle fluttered his wings to try and keep his balance, bobbing unevenly from side to side. He nodded, getting up and looping an arm around her shoulder,

“Of course not.” he agreed, “Come on, bed. Even if you don’t need to leave first thing in the morning any more, it’s been enough of a day that you probably need to sleep.” Selene tried pushing the Abouna away, only to end up swaying right back into his arms again,

“‘M not tired though.” she protested, “An’ you can sh – shut up.” she slurred, glaring at Chrackle, who had finally given up on balancing on his mistress’ shoulder and had landed on the table flat on his stomach with his wings splayed out to either side. Snorri bit back a laugh, picked the bird up and gestured for Edwin to bring Selene up to her room,

“Ye might not be tired, love, but I bet you wish the world would stop moving, aye?” he said as the trio ascended the stairs. Selene nodded, squeezing her eyes shut,

“Mountains can’t go on boats… but this is an elemental. Has the mountain gone walkies?” she asked with a small hiccough. Snorri coughed to cover his bark of laughter,

“Wrong bit of the mountain, hen.” he said, opening the door of the room he’d allowed Selene to stay in. Snorri met Edwin’s gaze as the cleric hefted Selene past the dwarven barkeep and raised an eyebrow. Edwin shook his head, helped Selene onto the bed and got some water for her.

Edwin sighed softly as Selene groaned,

“I’m glad you and King Storri finally managed to have a chance to just talk.” he said. Selene grinned up at him,

“Spent the evening slagging off Sh – Schre –... bastard Chancellor and Sliverhand.” she hiccoughed. “Lots in common.” Edwin nodded patiently,

“That’s good. I’m glad you were both able to have the opportunity to vent.” he said, filling a jug with some water and leaving it on the nightstand. He pulled the sheets over Selene, who blinked blearily, clearly trying to stay awake,

“Edwin?” she said softly. Edwin looked down at her and cocked his head,

“Yes Selene?” he asked, voice soft. Selene beamed up at him,

“Thank you. You’ve done so much. You’re a good friend, best friend in whole world.” she yawned. Edwin resisted the urge to tuck the stray hair in her face behind her ear, opting instead for backing up and blowing out the lantern,

“You’re welcome Selene. Good night.” he called gently, already aware that his words had fallen on deaf ears as Selene began snoring. The Abouna shook his head, ignoring the pang of regret in his chest as he closed the door and walked back down the stairs to head back to his own lodgings.

[thebrokenbean]

For Your Lives - Chapter 1

So it begins!

I've been working on this story since November, I believe?

The writer's course I've been taking this past semester is what finally booted me into the actual chapter-by-chapter writing process, and for that I'm incredibly grateful! Finally I've got chapter 1 complete and ready to share with everyone! Chapter 2 is being drafted, and Chapter 3 is a little further along than even that. I can't promise I'll have a consistent schedule but considering how the assignment due date is in a couple days, I imagine the next two will be out incredibly soon, lol.

In any case, here it is! The AU that's been rotting my brain for the past six months! Here's hoping I did my favourite psychopath justice XD

AO3 link, if that's preferred:

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

"Sparklings!"

Megatron freezes.

"There are kids here, Megs. Two of 'em. I can't leave them here."

- - - - - - - - - - - - -

When Whirl is dropped into yet another life-or-death situation (he seems to keep finding those), he doesn’t really care all that much. In fact, it's even a little amusing. Besides, he'll get out. He always does. And if he doesn’t? Oh well. He’ll go out guns blazing, but… he’s had a good enough run.

Then two bundles of energy barrel their way into his life, and he finds himself caring a lot more than he probably should.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Whirl wakes up in a transport. At least, he thinks so.

He tries to look around but it’s too dark to see anything, even with the dim light from his optic.

The space feels small though – not quite small enough that his limbs feel awkwardly arranged, but not exactly big enough for him to stretch either.

He takes a second to think - because yes he may be Whirl, but he can be smart when he wants to be, thank you!

His memory's all fuzzy but he sorta remembers the Lost Light setting down on some populated planet he hadn't paid attention to the name of. He had gotten bored and run off to scare the locals stretch his legs in the primitive city.

The memories after that are even more blurry but he clearly remembers some glitch-head grabbing him from behind and zapping him.

Tch. Fragger. Who did they think they were, grabbing him like that?

At least the memory files confirm where he is.

He tries once again to look around him, switching to infrared this time, but he can't see any details. The box he's in must be lined with something protective. He can't hear anything going on outside, either, which is weird because he can feel the vibration from the transport's engine. He should be able to hear it.

Hm. A transport that blocks sound and thermal imaging?

Whoever nabbed him, they certainly came prepared.

Which probably means the metal around him is too tough to bust his way out of. Shame. He’d reaaaaallly like to try.

But whoever’s outside probably still thinks he’s in stasis. A mech who hasn’t had experience being zapped with an energon prod a hundred times by now certainly would be.

Great. Now there's a strategic decision to make. He hates strategic decisions!

Option 1: Sit tight and wait till the transport stops moving, then bust out when his captors try to open the box he's in. Maximum shock factor, sounds like fun. Except that he has to wait and utilize his rusty impulse control.

Option 2: Bust his way out now – which he’d love - before he gets to whatever secondary location these glitches want him at (he's heard that's a bad thing. Something about survival chances dropping), and risk doing nothing more than being loud and alerting his captors that he's awake. Because as much as he can't hear anything going on outside the box, he's pretty slagging certain anyone outside would notice him trying to break out.

It's annoyingly obvious which option is the better one.

Gah, but Option 2 could be so much more fun!

... Eh. He's done stealth missions before, this should be no biggie.

He shifts himself as much as he can within the cramped space. There's no telling which side of the box is going to be opened when the transport stops moving, so he tries to prepare for any possible angle.

Cool. Now that's settled. Or rather, he is.

All that's left is to wait.

If Whirl had a mouth, he’d have such a huge smirk right now… these fraggers’ll have no idea what hit ‘em.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Bored.

Bored.

Bored bored bored bored bored bored bored.

Whirl is. So done with waiting.

He didn't look at his chronometer earlier so he has no idea how long it's been, but it feels like hours.

Aside from the inaudible rumbling of the transport's engine, the occasional bump in the road underneath him, and the sound of his own venting, he's been in near-complete sensory deprivation for the past who-knows-how-long.

He feels jittery.

He is this close to saying 'frag it' and busting out of the transport with his claws.

...

…

…

Frag it, he's busting out of the transport with his claws.

He feels around the box for a moment - just a moment - then in the split second before he lashes out at the wall, the transport beneath him jolts to an apparent stop.

Whirl doesn't consider himself a dignified mech. But if anyone ever asks about this moment in the future, he will not admit to the squawk that leaves his vocalizer when he’s thrown against one of the box’s walls.

It seems there’s a surge of commotion outside because his box feels like it’s being put in a blender set to ‘scramble’. There isn’t much for flailing-room but somehow his limbs manage to pretzel themselves more.

Then there's a thud, and the side of the box he's leaning against falls open.

He spills out onto the ground with an oof. He scrambles to his feet instinctually, but it takes him a second to find his balance and get his bearings. When he finally looks around, he's met with a dozen gun barrels aimed straight at him.

"Arrival #14-M, you are ordered to raise your hands and surrender," says the armed alien directly in front of him.

Whirl blinks. “...The frag?”

He ignores the guns for a second - he's had countless pointed at him before, they're not exactly scary - and glances around. He's standing in some kind of warehouse (underground, if the concrete walls and lack of windows mean anything), beside the transport he must've been shipped in on, with his shipping-crate-box only a few metres away, and surrounded by a group of heavily-armoured aliens that are roughly his size.

Whirl gives a mental shrug. Eh, he's been in far weirder situations before.

The organic being in front of him impatiently steps forward in an attempt to be intimidating. "Arrival #14-M, raise your hands and surrender or we will take you by force."

Whirl laughs. If he had eyebrows, he would raise one of them. “First of all, buddy, I don’t have hands. Second…” He narrows his optic in the approximation of a smirk. “I don’t surrender.”

With a yell he launches himself at the organic, digging his claws into their chest armour and throwing them at another being who had been rushing forward.

Gunfire peppers his plating as he tears his way out of the ring the guards had formed and darts across the room to put some space between himself and them.

Now that he has the elbow room he didn’t have in the box, Whirl checks his subspace for the guns he usually keeps there. Scrap, empty. His captors must've found a way to confiscate his belongings while he was unconscious.

Ah well. Hand-to-claw combat it is!

Unfortunately his opponents have a different idea. One of them fires a kind of bola out of a fancy-looking gun. Whirl manages to dance out of the way, but the second shot - from someone positioned on the sidelines - manages to hit. It tangles around his spindly legs and sends him crashing to the ground.

The beings waste no time swarming him, pinning him down as they wrestle his arms behind his back.  His wrist shape isn't exactly handcuff-friendly, but they seem to find a way to manage because suddenly his arms aren't going anywhere.

"Hey, frag off!" he snarls, struggling under their shared grip. Once they're done, one of the organics grabs him by the shoulder pauldron and roughly yanks him to his feet. He stumbles a little but manages to rid his ankles of the now-loose bola with a kick. He wrenches out of the being's grip and backs away, his optic narrow.

"What the frag do you think you're doing? Is this some kinda arrest? I swear I didn't do anything wrong this time! I didn't even start any fights!"

"Quiet," one of the beings orders, and two others step forward to grip his upper arms. He thrashes as they start moving and try to drag him along with them.

"Oh, I don't think so! You ain't takin' me anywhere!" Whirl raises his voice, indignant. But they manage to haul him across the warehouse and through one of the many garage-style doors into a smaller room.

The room is wide and very tall, but only a fraction of the main warehouse's size. There's another garage-style door against the far wall to the right, and yet another on the left wall. Crates are stacked in the corners of the room, along with structures that look suspiciously like cages.

But what truly catches his attention are the other handcuffed aliens - big and small, organics, mechanoids, and everything in-between - that huddle in the center of the room. He's shoved forward to join them, and he almost trips in his effort not to squash some of the smaller organic prisoners.

"Oi, watch it!" Whirl growls at the guard (because that's definitely what these guys are, whatever their overall intent). The guard just turns and takes up a position by the door.

As a few more prisoners are brought in, Whirl takes stock of the odds. There are at least two dozen armed guards in the room now, double the number that he just fought. That's only a few more guards than there are prisoners. But seeing as all of said prisoners are handcuffed and most seem considerably frightened, they don't stand much of a chance.

Well scrap.

Guess he's stuck playing the waiting game... again.

It seems the guards have the same idea, because it's a long time before anything else happens.

Whirl tries to make conversation.

“Hey, stupid!”

The guard he’s directing the comment at ignores him.

“Any of you lot gonna explain what’s going on here, or are we supposed to sit here with our claws up our afterburners?”

All the guards are unresponsive.

Whirl rolls his optic. “Not ones for talking, got it.”

He plops on the ground, arranging himself into something somewhat cross-legged (being careful not to crush one of the smaller prisoners of course) and shrugs. “Eh, fine by me. Leaves more room for me to ramble. I tend to prefer action over words, but hey! Rambling’s saved my aft before. Once there was some dude who made me spill my life story, just so he’d spare some scrawny little therapist. ‘Course, that didn’t really do much since the lil guy got his head blown open anyway-”

“Enough!” One of the guards finally seems to break, barely able to keep the groan out of his voice.

Whirl gives a slag-eating grin. “Aw, am I talkin’ too much? Should’ve thought of that sooner. You sure you’re not gonna explain what we’re waiting for, here?”

Nothing. The guards seem to be trying the silent treatment, again. Ha. Like that’ll do anything. 

Naturally, Whirl responds to their silence by talking more.

Unfortunately it doesn't last, since he runs out of things to say and ask (he’s not nearly as good at this as Swerve is), but he feels accomplished when he sees the exasperated expressions on the guards' faces.

Eventually, one of the guards steps away from the wall he was leaning on. He approaches the group and aims his weapon at them. "Line up. Backs against the wall." he says curtly, and gestures towards the back wall of the room.

The group shuffles in place, hesitant, but eventually they comply. Whirl grumbles as he follows them. He hates this, but he's been a prisoner before. He knows how this stuff works. Best thing to do for now is play along until he can finally figure out what these guys' deal is.

The guards take up their positions again, and through the door that's now on Whirl's right comes a tall organic alien. He's at least a mechanometre taller than Whirl, and equally thin. Whirl doesn't exactly know much about the whole galaxy-wide 'clothing' thing, but the robe that hangs off this being's slightly hunched form does not look cheap. The stiff posture and down-his-nose look he's giving the prisoners certainly helps sell the 'Wealthy Ventwipe’ impression.

He is accompanied by a mechanoid assistant that's only half his height and carrying a datapad. The pair begins going down the line of prisoners. They speak casually as they seem to inspect each being, talking about weight, strength, species, and giving each one some kind of rating. Whirl shifts. He's not sure he wants to know what they're rating them on.

When the pair stops in front of Whirl, the tall male's four eyes widen. He turns to his assistant. "This one is a Cybertronian, is it not?"

Whirl narrows his optic. "It has a name."

The tall male seems amused. The mechanoid chitters something in a language Whirl doesn't understand, and the male's eyes glint dangerously. "Is that so?" He looks Whirl up and down. "I'll take this one too."

The two attempt to move on to the next person in line, but Whirl jerks forward aggressively. "Take? The frag are you talking about, 'take'?"

The lanky male looks back at him with a raised eyeridge. "Mouthy," he observes.

"Yeah," Whirl growls, "I'm told I get snarky when stuck-up glitches start talking about me like an object."

The male's expression hardens, and his lip curls. One of the guards moves forward, but halts when the male raises his hand. "He is new." He levels a narrow gaze at Whirl. "He will learn."

Whirl snorts. "Like the pit, I will." He steps forward and brings his face close to the male's. "You better explain exactly what's going on. Or even better, let me go! I promise I might not even kill anyone on the way out."

The tall male doesn't flinch. Instead he tilts his head to address the guards, without breaking eye contact with the mech in front of him. "Have this one put in holding while we wrap this up. I'd rather inspect the rest of the stock without pointless banter and useless threats following after me."

"Stock?"

Two guards approach - derailing the incredulous thought - and Whirl crouches a little, defensively. He flexes his claws behind his back. It'd be reaaaally nice to have use of his arms, right about now.

Still, he resists as much as he can when the guards attempt to yank him away from the wall. It's a fruitless effort, on his part, because they manage to nab him eventually - but it makes him feel a little better. That's always a plus.

They mech-handle him through the door that the alien and his assistant had come through. The ceiling of the wide hallway is much lower, and the space is slightly better-lit. Doors line each wall. Big ones, like the doors of a human garage, except more heavy duty. One of the guards punches something into a keypad beside one of the closest doors, and it retracts into the ceiling.

"In," one of the guards orders him.

Whirl twists in their grip. "Yeah no, I'm good thanks." He'd rather not go into another cell. He's been in plenty of those in his millions of years and he's pretty sure he's had more than his fair share. "How about we try something else? I know a game! It's called 'Let's Let Whirl Go’. To win, you guys let me go, and I-"

"Quiet." The guards shove him harshly, and he could swear something catches his foot because he stumbles and lands flat on his face - or rather, his chin, ‘cause… well.

He hurries to get back on his feet and turns around with a scowl, but the door has already closed.

Great.

"Tripping me? Really?" He asks the closed door with a narrow optic. "That was stupid, childish... and incredibly effective. I should remember to try that sometime."

He glances around the room. It's small, but definitely not enough to be cramped. The ceiling, like all the other rooms, seems to be made of a large sheet of dark metal. The concrete floor and walls are two different shades of grey.

The walls are gouged and cracked in places, probably from whoever or whatever was in this cell before him. Hm. He tilts his head a little. "Wonder if I can break through that..."

He gives the back wall an appraising look, before winding up and lashing out with his foot.

The resulting noise is relatively loud and dust rains from the corner where the wall meets the ceiling, but his foot has left hardly more than a dent.

Well. That was underwhelming. Whoever built this room clearly intended it for someone a lot  stronger than him.

He throws a few more kicks at the walls, especially the places that are visibly weaker, but the damage is all pretty minimal. Guess he's not getting out of here that easily - which is probably just as well, considering he's pretty certain he's underground anyway.

Cool.

... Now what?

[keaalu]

Remember Me, chapter 9

(Yeah OK these are all old and I’m just catching up posting…)

 Title (chapter): Remember Me (09)

Series: Transformers, G1-based “Blue” AU

Rating: PG-13

Notes: a small miracle occurs, whereby Skywarp’s, um, “plan”… doesn’t instantly go to the smelter. (Perhaps he should have been suspicious that Megatron was up to something?) Pulsar goes to visit her sister in hospital.

------------------

 OK, so. I probably could have planned this a little better, Skywarp accepted, reeling backwards from another blow and feeling the wall impact his battered wings.

To be fair, he’d always anticipated this might involve a slagging, somewhere along the line. Just… perhaps not quite so soon? With his ego swollen on his opinion of his own self-importance, he’d stupidly assumed that he’d be quietly locked up in the brig and that would be the end of it.

Megatron’s fists rapidly brought that ego crashing back down to dig a trench in the dirt.

Joking about having to scrape their wingleader up off the walls and ship him off to Hook, after the latest one-sided spat with the warlord left the scarlet jet noisily spewing obscenities and vowing revenge, suddenly didn't seem so funny, any more.

Broken, bleeding all over the floor, and feeling a whole lot more like he was in his wingleader’s former position as official punching bag than he’d have liked, Skywarp cowered away in a futile attempt to look suitably punished. He wasn’t sure he could have done much to protect himself, even if his hands had been free – attempting to fight back would have either made it worse, or much worse. Assuming he survived it, getting smashed into non-functional bits wouldn’t have helped anyone.

Taking a beating from his former leader was a necessary evil, he tried to reassure himself, supporting his weight against his wall and trying vainly to get his struggling fans to quieten down just a little.

A painful, damaging, humiliating, necessary evil.

Primus. I hope it’s only a beating.

Why did everyone need to stand around watching, anyway.

Skywarp struggled to keep track of the big warmech’s continued pacing around him. Alarm bubbled through every circuit – where was he, was another blow coming, where was he going to hit him next? No blows had landed for a good few seconds, did that mean worse was on the way? But the familiar pain of a broken nose throbbed through his helm, destabilising his already-overloaded senses. A non-crystallising sludge of energon and coolant dripped slowly from his chin, irritating the exposed components beneath his smashed canopy glass. A broken line in his cheek somewhere had totally fogged the back of one optic.

Megatron was saying something to him, Skywarp realised; the hard tones of a demand, almost impossible to pick out of the chaos of static, background noise, and jeering of his former allies. He struggled to retune his hearing, scrambling to offline or reroute some of the flood of unwanted data that left him almost blind.

Approaching footsteps made the decking tremble.

Slag. He’s coming over. Alarmed, Skywarp scrambled to push himself a little more upright, look a little more alert-

Focus began to return just in time for him to hear the familiar mosquito whine of a heating fusion cannon, coming very very close to his audios.

The stink of burning air filled his vents. Heat radiated onto his face.

Megatron’s tone was maddeningly reasonable. “Is your mind adequately refreshed?”

Frag.

This is it.

Catastrophic misjudgement.

Totally blindly misjudged it and Megatron was going to kill him, right there and then, and probably film it and send the footage back to Cybertron with whatever was left of his wings as a sample of what was coming their way.

For an instant – longer than an instant, actually – fear curled long, barbed tendrils around Skywarp’s spark and almost choked his voice off altogether. For a decent few seconds, he couldn’t quite remember how to work his vocaliser.

The radiant heat against the side of his helm felt like it might actually melt something.

He finally managed to squeak a feeble Yessir.

The mouth of the fusion cannon gave him an unfriendly shove of encouragement on the side of his helm, leaving behind a bright little spot of hot pain.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t catch that. Would you like to repeat yourself, a little louder and more respectfully, so everyone can hear you?”

Skywarp swallowed his pride. “Yes, M-Mighty Megatron, sir!” From somewhere deep, he found the energy to shout the words. “I’m sorry. I-I was a fool to think I could challenge you-”

The jeers from the other assembled Decepticons increased in volume, but frag – that was all. It was just noise. He could deal with that.

“Well. No surprise there. You seem to have modelled yourself on your pathetic wingleader, of late, for reasons that completely elude me.”

Miraculously, with one final push that made Skywarp stagger down to one knee, the cannon drew back. The low thumps of Megatron’s departing feet made the decking tremble.

Staring at the filthy floor in a mixture of amazement and relief that he could actually still see it, Skywarp allowed himself the luxury of circulating cool air again. Even the sting of energon crackling across his shuddery fans didn’t feel so bad.

Megatron picked up a rag, ran it over his knuckles, and curled his lip at the dramatic strike of purple paint that clearly wasn’t going to just wipe away. “The precious dear has an appointment with the doctor. Don’t let him be late,” he instructed, turning towards the door, presumably in search of some proper cleaning instruments.

Skywarp watched him go, and sneered feebly at the disappearing back.

Primus. You really skated through this one by the shine on your skidplate.

Still puffed up from his earlier success, Dirge took the floor, voting himself in charge. “Yes, mighty Megatron! Your commands are safe with us.”

Skywarp clawed back the insult he could feel brewing, instead staying quietly down on one knee. The Conehead could grandstand as much as he liked; every fraction of an astrosecond he took to boast gave the teleport time to wrangle his flagging strength and emotions, scraping himself back into a vaguely Seeker-shaped mess.

The plan – such as it was – had gone to the smelter faster than he’d anticipated, but at least he wasn’t mortally wounded. Getting wing-deep in the slag these days usually just involved a serious I-expected-more-from-you,-Skywarp dressing-down from TC, so perhaps he had gone into this with his expectations unrealistically high.

He could feel Starscream’s I-told-you-so approaching from a million miles away, and winced.

“I can understand being too scared to fight back when you’re taking a slagging from the boss, but let’s see if he remembers how to fight his equals, after all these vorns.” Dirge mimed cracking his knuckles. “Someone go drag him out of that corner before he rusts into it.”

Taking a beating from Megatron might be a necessary evil… but taking one from Dirge definitely wasn’t. If they all thought they were going to ride along in Megatron’s wake, take advantage of the way the warlord had left him shocked and shaky, and that he’d just sit here and take it…?

Sure, he was scared – rightly so, he reassured himself – of Megatron. These overblown fragheads just made him angry.

Nursing the bright little pinpoint of rage forming a hotspot in his chassis, Skywarp quietly submitted to the manhandling, allowing Dirge’s wingmates to haul him back up onto his thrusters. The floor was slick with his own essential fluids; last thing he wanted was to skid over on it.

In the background, Blitzwing chuckled. “Aw, look how nice he’s behaving. Autobots clipped his claws very prettily for us.”

Dirge circled carefully back and forth, just past the shiny patch. “Well I figure he’s not had to fight more than a few librarians, lately. Right guys?”

A ripple of agreement followed him. The circle closed a little.

Skywarp kept his gaze low, as though suitably intimidated by the hostile crowd, and allowed his mass to slump backwards into the hands holding him, unexpectedly; softening his knees, allowing himself a little give in his back.

Thrust swore softly at being asked to suddenly support more mass. “Primus. Didja have to make the delicate little sparkling faint, dude? This stupid plastic look is still heavy-!” He shifted his grip, trying to find a better point to hang onto him.

The instant Skywarp felt his captors’ hands weaken, he took advantage of the flex he’d given himself, and swung his centre of mass forwards, then straightened his legs, propelling himself forwards like a rocket. A flurry of alarmed little exclamations came from his captors as he skipped free of their restraint-

Like a self-aware piledriver, he slammed the top of his helm into Dirge’s nose.

He felt rather than heard the crunch as components disintegrated in the force of the impact. Dirge flailed backwards and they both ended up sprawling on the deck.

A second of stunned silence passed.

Then the pain apparently kicked in.

The blue jet’s screaming obscenities were almost drowned out by the howls of laughter from his comrades. Dirge thrashed his way out from under his attacker and somehow lurched back to his feet without skidding straight back over on his aft, hands clamped over his face. Ugly pinkish grey oozed between his fingers and dripped onto his chassis.

Skywarp found the energy for a smirk, wrinkling his own battered nose for effect. “Hey, look, Duuh-rge. Now we match.”

Dirge made a little incoherent noise of rage, but couldn’t do much more than impotently stagger back and forth, clutching the injury. “You are going to get it, oh I swear. You. Are. Going. To. Get. It!” He looked like he was desperate to pile in with a kicking, but didn’t trust his balance. All the high-efficiency lubricant scattering down from his nose onto the deck around him didn’t help.

Skywarp made no effort to help either of the two mechs struggling to peel him back up off the deck. “Then how about you quit exercising your vocaliser and actually fight me, you enormous heat sink?”

“Slagging-… pitfragged-… slagmunch-!” Dirge swung a thruster in a kick, but skidded precariously before it could land and had to work on saving his dignity instead.

Ramjet sighed. “Nice. Make yourself look like even more of an idiot than normal, right, Dirge?”

“Well maybe if you deigned to actually help out?!” Dirge shrieked, spraying energon over the closest bystanders. “Useless babysitter-!”

Ramjet’s glare deepened, but instead of retort he steered them all towards the doorway. “Come on. Let’s get him down to Hook before he bleeds out entirely. You never know; the prissy glitch might even glue some of those dents up so there’s less slag coming out of him for us to slip over on.”

Spoke too soon. Blitzwing stepped in a puddle, and went down with an almighty crunch.

The echo – and the swearing – followed them down the corridor. Skywarp swallowed a smile.

Dirge took the lead, although it looked more out of a desire to get to the Infirmary and a decent supply of painkillers than a desire to actually follow Megatron’s orders, any more. Temporarily content at the chaos he’d wrought, Skywarp allowed himself to be marched along without argument, and quietly took in the route, cross-referencing his old maps. On the one hand, it was really helpful of these unsuspecting glitches to be giving him the grand tour.

On the other hand… he didn’t know precisely what Megatron meant by ‘appointment’ and didn’t really want to find out? Because the idea it was just for a few repairs didn’t really feel like it was the correct answer.

When they arrived, Dirge ignored everyone and went straight to the chiller for a pack to try and crystallise the lines under his smashed nose. Hook didn’t look particularly impressed at having a dripping Conehead sitting on his clean workbench, but the fight-me manner to the jet’s bearing dissuaded him from pushing the point.

Instead, Hook gestured to his table. “Let’s just get on, shall we?” He made no effort to hide the selection of tools on the tray alongside it.

…they didn’t look specifically threatening in and of themselves, but Skywarp felt a flush of fear draw icy fingers up the back of his helm. It felt rather like he was about to be vivisected, without the benefit of painkillers – or unconsciousness.

Alarmed, and not quite able to hold back the reflex that yelled at him to escape, Skywarp threw his weight upwards and backwards, relying on his two restraints as unwilling props to hold him up. It gave him just enough support and momentum to flash out both legs in a kick, using the sharp rim of his thrusters as a weapon.

The blow caught Hook in the face, hard enough to crack his optic crystal right the way across. He stumbled backwards into the trolley, sending tools cascading across the deck in a riotous cacophony.

While Hook cursed, momentum carried Skywarp backwards more heavily than he’d intended. Being unexpectedly asked to support the mass of a whole extra body toppled all three of them. The teleport landed on top of the heap, sending an electric jolt of pain through his damaged wings again, but unable to completely swallow the satisfied smirk at the groans from underneath.

Dirge peered out from under his pack. “Really, guys? Again? Now who’s the incompetent fragstick making us look bad?”

Hook’s limited supply of patience had apparently run out. “Any time you’re ready, you cretins. Get him on the table!”

It took the combined weight of all three Coneheads to finally pin Skywarp down on the table to Hook’s satisfaction. Solid metal staples slammed home around his limbs, then ratcheted tight enough to leave dents.

Skywarp clenched his fists and tightened his jaw in an effort to disguise a wince. His confidence that sure, he was gonna get out of this, intact and functional, was seriously starting to wane.

Hook looked down on him; nose slightly elevated, as though there were a source of noxious vapours hanging somewhere at chest level. “Even when I’m not tasked with putting them back together, they arrive on my table in pieces.” He picked a shard of broken crystal out of Skywarp’s chassis. “I suppose I’ll have to find something to repair this with, as well.”

“Can’t you just glue it?” Thrust wondered. “Maybe glue his mouth shut, while you’re at it.”

“I’ll glue yours if you don’t keep your thoughts to yourself. Why are you even still here?”

Thrust looked at his wingmates; Dirge had at least finally stopped bleeding, and was fussing quietly while Ramjet tried to work out if he could straighten his nose for him. “Boss’s orders, I guess?”

“Fine.” The crane didn’t look particularly satisfied, but let it slide. “Let’s see what Seekers are made of, these days.”

He dipped briefly out of Skywarp’s line of sight, but quickly reappeared as a spot of pain; the insect-bite scratch of a laser scalpel working its way carefully around the margins of one of his plates, on the midpoint of one wing. Skywarp grimaced in pain and flexed his fingers. Not the most easily accessible piece of the jet’s anatomy, if all Hook wanted was a sample, but it did at least feel like he wasn’t intentionally being cruel for the sake of it. He wielded his scalpel with precision, and in comparison with the slagging Skywarp had taken from Megatron? This was nothing.

Hook teased the section of plating away from its fascia, and carefully snipped through the web of connectors beneath. After a little noise of satisfaction, he turned away with it.

Skywarp listened to the receding steps, wary. Was that it? Couldn’t be it. If only he could see what the fragger was doing. A flurry of vaguely-familiar chirps and clicks reminded him of one of the big machines in Starscream’s huge lab back at work, so presumably Hook was doing some kind of scientific analysis.

Well, that wasn’t super helpful. Skywarp turned his attention to his pinions, wondering if he could wiggle any loose. It might be absolutely no use whatsoever, but having to lay here and wait was grating against his nerves.

Perhaps that was the point.

His mind's eye was already working overtime. Why did they need to know what he was made of? He didn’t even know what he was made of. What were they going to do to him once they figured it out? Design something to dissolve him? Ugh. Having something to do, something to focus on that wasn’t his own overactive imagination, was helping him retain that tiny kernel of calm.

Eventually Hook turned away from his analysis. “I have to give the Traitor a little credit,” he said, grudgingly. “This is a good composite. Tough. Light. Probably reduces the fuel-weight burden significantly.” His lip curled in a sneer. “A shame he chose to waste it on a motley flock of ignorant thugs. I suppose he didn’t have many options, given who chose to follow him.”

Skywarp matched stares with him. “So are you gonna let me up now?”

Hook acted like he hadn’t spoken. “I think we’re done keeping him conscious.” He flicked a hand at Thrust.

“Primus. About fraggin’ time.” Thrust bounced over, and grinned down at their prisoner, brandishing a weapon – palm-sized, with two sharp parallel tines emerging from the business end. “Night night, dude.”

Skywarp steeled himself for the unknown; the manacles gave him absolutely no give and no way to defend himself as Thrust dropped the weapon into the soft surface of his throat, punching the needles down through the polymer surface and cables and assorted skeletal structures.

After an instant where Skywarp was convinced Thrust was going to take his helm clean off… the barbs finally hit his main transmission column. A shock of electricity lit up every single circuit in his brain. After an instant where absolutely everything was blinding white, screaming high-pitched torment into his audio centre-

The world fell apart into pixels and he was out.

-------

Deixar General Hospital had a quiet, heavy atmosphere, Pulsar noticed, using her police access to slip in through the emergency department. As if a storm was brewing somewhere just over the horizon, and everyone was quietly waiting for it to break over them? She knew from personal experience that anything in the police gossip chain generally spread in short order to related services, but this was a whole different level. It was foolish to think the arrival of the Coneheads could have gone unnoticed by anyone in the small district.

When Pulsar finally got up onto the ward, it was to find Longbeam had already picked up her signal and was expectantly watching the doorway. Her sister immediately brightened at seeing her, finding a small smile and wiggling the fingers of her good hand in a little wave.

Pulsar crossed the ward to her sister’s corner. Of the three other berths, the one opposite was empty, and the machines occupying the other two were offline, recharging; awaiting parts, she imagined. Longbeam had a halfway decent view out over the city – and wasn’t close enough to the window to spoil it by seeing how far away from the ground they were, either. The sky was an innocuous, cloudless blue.

Longbeam leaned up towards her as she approached, stretching out her good hand for reassurance. “Vecks told me the little sparks are okay? Do-do you actually know? She’s not just saying it so I don’t overheat?”

“Hey,” Pulsar greeted, bumping cheeks and for a several seconds just holding her. “Vecks isn’t just saying it. Seem is a bit bashed around, but they’re both alive; we’ve seen them.”

Longbeam sagged against her with a little sound of relief. “Mercy.”

Pulsar stepped back a little. “How are you doing?”

“Well.” Longbeam vented a shaky sigh, then offered a lopsided, disgruntled frown, and spread her arms. “I’m still here, I guess? It was touch and go for a while when they took all that plastic off and I wouldn’t stop bleeding, but obviously they sorted that out. Now I’m just… here.”

Pulsar tried not to look too hard at the supportive shell her sibling sat in – not really a berth but a big opaque enclosure covered in blinking lights and monitors, designed to replace all the bodily functions her damaged frame couldn’t do for itself any more. It closed around her torso, just below her armpits, leaving her arms free. It… didn’t look particularly comfortable.

A flash of guilt drummed fingers over Pulsar’s antennae at the relief that she wouldn’t need to look at her sister’s catastrophic injuries. She swallowed the unease, and instead settled on the closest chair (which was far too big and mostly in the way, probably dragged in specifically for Vector). “Does it hurt?���

“No. They pumped me so full of virals, I can’t feel anything right now. Or move, really. Nothing under here works for itself, any more.” Longbeam patted her enclosure with her stump. “I’m not sure which is just me being broken, and which is the medics switching slag off? That flying pitglitch missed my magbottle by this much;” she held up her hand, thumb and forefinger so close Pulsar couldn’t even see the gap between them without zooming in, “so it probably makes sense? Survive getting shot by a ‘Con; kill yourself by moving funny.”

“Did they say how long they think you’ll be stuck in here?”

Longbeam blew out a long rattly sigh of stale exhaust and refused to meet her gaze. “Waiting for a new frame from the production facility. They say it’ll be a few more orns yet.”

Pulsar straightened, just a little. “A new frame?”

Longbeam muttered something poisonous and glared up at the ceiling. “They say I’ll need so many spare parts, it’s safer and easier just to rebottle my spark in a new body. I guess it makes sense. I’ll be in here for like, vorns, if they don’t, and when you think of all the time it’ll take, and… I’m a bike, anyway, right?” She snorted a sour laugh. “Not exactly an exotic frame. Almost an off-the-shelf model.”

“That’s a good thing, though, right? If it means you’re out of here quicker?”

Longbeam made a spirited effort to cover her face with both hands. “I’m gonna end up short, Pulse.”

Pulsar caught her good hand and held it for an instant. “I’m sure Vector will still love you even if you’re not all tall and bendy.”

“Yeah but I was, it was-… I liked being a bit different? Mighta been a factory fault, but I liked being tall-…” Longbeam swallowed the rest of the complaint, pursing her lips in an attempt to look a little less petulant. “So, uh. H-how’s Thundercracker…?”

“Aside from a migraine? Recharging while he gets a medical patch to take, I think. He and Celerity have been holed up in their room for a while, and I didn’t want to disturb them. I don’t think they really know how to deal with this, right now.”

“I figured. Vector’s a bit… spacey, as well.” Longbeam closed her fingers over the cleaned stump of her injured arm. “I don’t think she wants to talk about it. Maybe it’s a twins thing, I don’t know.” She finally met Pulsar’s gaze, and after a second of effort managed to get the words out in a whisper; “Thanks for coming.”

“I’m sorry it took so long.” Pulsar found her sister’s hand and interlaced their fingers. “Took me a while to stop running in circles. We’re still firefighting, mostly.”

“Ah, it’s no problem. I-I know you had things to deal with. And, and… Well, I’m here and I’m alive, right? So. Uh.”

It wasn’t just the injury – Longbeam just looked… drawn. Dusty and gaunt and very small. Pulsar didn’t remember seeing her like it before. She squeezed her fingers, gently. “Hey. You don’t have to tiptoe around what’s bothering you.”

Longbeam squeezed out a little noise that sounded like it was trying to be a laugh but came out more like a choke of pain. “Thought you guys weren’t gonna forgive me. A-and that’s why you hadn’t come yet. For-for… not being fast enough. Not spotting them before they were on top of us. Shoulda been paying more attention. It’s meant to be my job and I was too busy chatting to keep my attention on anything other than candy-”

“Hey, Beemer-! Stop that.”

Longbeam swallowed the rest of the sentence. She slipped her fingers free of her sibling’s hand and covered her face, and Pulsar realised her sister was shaking. “Primus. What a family to frag it up for.”

“You don’t think they’re gonna take it out on you-”

Longbeam gave a staticky laugh, but she didn’t sound amused. “Thought had crossed my mind, yeah. I-I mean.” She let her head bonk down against the wall behind her. “What if I’m what triggers this all to fall down again? Wars have started over less, and-and Primus, the little sparks are trapped with Megatron and I’m more scared about what might happen to me-”

Pulsar mostly fell out of the big chair, and gathered her sister against her in a hug. “Hey. You’re allowed to feel scared, all right? I mean, slag; I’m overthinking this all too. But someone not being able to stop a whole trine she didn’t see until they were right on top of her isn’t going to be what breaks us. Please stop punishing yourself over it.”

Longbeam shakily brought her arms up around her. “S-sorry. You get plenty of time alone with your thoughts in a place like this. ‘Specially since Vecks hasn’t really wanted to talk about it. Those guys aren’t so talkative either, haha.” She nodded to the dormant bodies on the other berths. “Guess I have been kinda chewing myself up over it all.”

“Look, I’m gonna have a word with Vecks, and the medics. All right? If all they’re going to do is give you a new frame, maybe you don’t need to be stuck up here with no company the whole time.” Pulsar glanced around the ward. “Where is Vector, anyway?”

“Nightsun dragged her away to refuel. She was down to vapours already. Be kinda embarrassing to have to get a surgeon in here just to carry her out if she ran dry, ‘cause there’s no way Nightsun woulda been able to pick her up.”

“Probably not a good time to say I brought you some candies.” Pulsar set a clear box full of sparkly cellophane-wrapped pink crystals on the table. “The idea was to cheer you up, buuut.” She shrugged, sheepishly. “I can get you something else if you’d rather.”

Longbeam snorted a more genuine laugh – the same brand of confectionery she’d stolen off Pulsar’s desk to share with Whitesides, before the Coneheads rocked up in their patch. “Thanks. Guess I’ll save them for when I actually have tanks again.” She nudged it with the back of her knuckles, thoughtfully. “You managed to keep Warp from eating them. Colour me impressed.”

Pulsar sighed and covered her face in both hands.

Longbeam’s optics tightened, fractionally. “What’s he done now?”

Pulsar groaned and let her helm bonk down on her sister’s berth. “Only flown off to singlehandedly take on Megatron to get the little sparks back.”

Longbeam hesitantly brushed a hand over Pulsar’s antennae. “…do I wanna ask how he is?”

“Still functioning. We think. Megatron sent us a video, which was… kind of him, I guess. I’m not really going to commit to much more than that, just yet.”

[sugarmeowe]

no thoughts head COMPLETELY empty i just can’t stop thinking of lieutenant simon “ghost” riley, who’s now also reader’s boyfriend simon “ghost” riley, fucking you soooo hard that you black out and forget his name, completely brainless and only remembering his call sign after how much he’s plowed you senselessly :(

simon riley x fem! reader

nsft ✰ creampie, brief mention of squirting, fem! anatomy, saucy to soft, honestly a lot of soft simon (man is so incredibly whipped for u) heh… this one’s been sitting in my NOTES of all things for soooo long because i might be a slag :0

when you come down from it all, from the taste of smoke and sugar and bitterness, a million other things dancing on your tongue, a blunt ringing in your ears so unmissable you’d think fireworks went off in your apartment, your blurry vision slowly begins to reveal the silhouette of your boyfriend, still hovering over you. just as sweaty and fucked out as you, if not even more.

simon. your darling, darling simon. boyfriend who just absolutely fucked your brains out for you without a shadow of a doubt. you were gone, always the desired result though after a good fucking from your love.

the weakest little whimper leaves your chapped, swollen lips when you vaguely remark his body lurching down, lower towards yours, until another, louder and more embarrassed whine also leaves you when you finally realise what he’s doing. he was going down to inspect your poor little fucked out cunt, like the sadist he so clearly was— it had become so well established by now, so long into sleeping with the man, that he always loved the sight of his cum slowly dripping out of your abused little hole. it was a primal sense of fulfilment that he’d get from it, after all. the fact that he’d marked you so well, so clearly from the inside that it was beginning to spill out, so unbelievably thick as streams of it began to mix with your own gushiness and slick gave him a feeling of accomplishment that not even blowing out the skulls of his enemies on the battlefield could compare to.

a small, soundless breath leaves your mouth when you try to talk, but that’s when the realisation comes sharply— you have nothing to say. genuinely nothing. your brain was completely empty, having probably leaked down your thighs by now when he’d fucked every last thought out of your head. you barely even recognise the man now comfortably situated by your still-spread legs; you know who he is, but no name, no recognisable sense of identity comes to your head as you let out another hoarse breath in an attempt to communicate.

but then another little whimper leaves you through your heavy breaths and dizzy little sounds as you try your hardest to come down, and you realise that you do know this man. it’s your lieutenant. lieutenant ghost. how could you ever forget the giant masked man always wearing the skull face who’s authority you’d always obey, way back when you first began working with the task force? of course you could never forget him!

(your poor little mind must have blacked out so hard during those countless orgasms that he’d given you, that you completely forgot about the man you’d been dating for the past two years now: instead only remembering the man you’d been serving under for the past three. the man who you trained yourself to obey and work for ever since you met. and honestly, with how dumb and mushy he’d made you after orgasm number three, nobody could blame you.)

“…ghost.” you softly, deliriously whisper out amidst your heavy pants, completely out of touch with reality and the world that you’re still in right now. your eyes are glued to the ceiling, your entire body unable to move, and that’s when you finally, faintly register the small tear rolling down from the corner of your eye towards your hairline as your body continues trying to recover from the high. fuck. orgasm was so good that you cried?

“nah, ‘ts just me baby… just simon.” he whispers back with a small smile on his face as his eyes move to look at yours for a second, deeply admiring the adorable little fucked out look you have. your eyes were glazed over, he could almost see the hearts in your pupils from how clearly fucking great that final climax was for you. your face was glossy with sweat, hair disheveled, and your bare breasts rose up and down as you panted heavily, gaze glued to the ceiling. he continues to reposition himself over your limp, helplessly sprawled out frame underneath him on the bed until he’s properly situated over your lower-half, eyes locked on your pussy. he pushes one of your legs open, admittedly more roughly than he’d intended to, and unintentionally lets out a low moan from deep within his throat when he’s greeted with the full display of the creampie he just gave you.

“ghost…” you weakly whisper again, barely registering his words. barely comprehending the full extent of your relationship with the huge, heavy man in front of you currently admiring, completely stuck on the absolute state of your wrecked little cunt right now, after what was probably the longest and most intense fucking of your life.

he chuckles again, already sensing the adorably confused little expression on your face- furrowed eyebrows, puffed out lips, slightly separate and opened to help you even further in regaining your breaths- even though his eyes never once leave your lower half. thick globs of his own spend have already leaked down from your cunt, trickling past your asshole and pooling onto the bedsheets below the two of you, diluted a little by your own slick and squirt, and forming what is possibly the most lewd and downright delicious display simon has ever seen in his life. he could stay here forever, admiring the scene for the rest of his life.

but he also needs to do his job now, helping you recover from it all. from what he gave you, from what you let him take from you tonight.

“it’s simon, love, no ghost here right now.” he mumbles sweetly as he finally relents and tears his gaze away from your spent womanhood to properly face his sweet girl, his smile only widening when his suspicions on how evidently fucked out your facial expression is becomes confirmed. he chuckles softly again, the sound nothing but a low, exhaled breath as he moves up to hover over you, his face inches away from yours as he cups your cheek with one of those large, warm hands of his in an attempt to get you to finally look at him. (the same hand that he’d already wrung orgasm after orgasm out of you with tonight.)

when your eyes finally tear from the ceiling to look at his face, long lashes batting repeatedly against your skin as you try to blink the blurriness of your vision away, he coos, fingers sprawling over your face to gently brush away the stray hairs that were messily scattered over your forehead and eyes.

“mmmm-” is the only dumb little sound you have the brain capacity of making, but it gets shushed up automatically when he presses the softest of kisses against your lips, naturally forcing your vision to go back to normal that much more straight away, allowing you to finally, properly focus on the man still hovering in front of you. the man you were slowly beginning to remember that you loved, practically more than anything.

he presses another delicate little kiss to your forehead, the corners of his lips turning upwards that much further as he hears the sound from you amidst your consistent weak breaths and moans, before he moves down over your face again, still cupping your cheek and tilting your head upwards to try and make you properly look him in the eye. god, he loved when you would get like this. maybe, potentially, getting to witness the aftermath of what he would do to you was his favourite part, even more than the sex itself.

“you know my name, yeah? c’mon, love, say it. say my name.” he coos to you, so tenderly you’d think he was trying to reel in a scared farm animal or pet. he tilts his head inquisitively at you, absolutely enamoured by how spaced out and completely engulfed by bliss and satisfaction you still were, as he waits for a response from his beloved girl.

“gh-” you can see his eyebrows raise a little. in that classic simon way whenever you’d do or say something questionable to him, that amused him or perplexed him further. only simon could do that. your simon. and then it dawns on you. it was him. it was simon.

“s… s-simon…” you finally slur out happily, the tiniest of smiles beginning to spread across your cheeks as you tilt your head back at him and blink quickly, finally beginning to recollect yourself and come back down to reality after it all. it only makes him beam back at you in response, that familiar and warm smile comforting you and pulling you so much closer back to earth as you begin to regain feeling in your body and brain.

“yeaaah…” he drawls out proudly, chuckling a little more at you before he leans back down to your forehead, granting you another soft and familiar peck. “that’s it, baby. that’s my girl.” he murmurs against your hairline, those big, warm, admittedly slightly rough palms of his roaming back down across your body- tits, tummy, hips- until they meet the backs of your thighs once again, and he pushes them up against you to put you back into the exposed position you were originally in, after your orgasm hit you. he silently wondered when you’d even slumped your legs down, probably out of so much fatigue from the whole thing, at some point while you tried to come to your senses. it made sense… but he also wasn’t finished admiring the state of you right now- even if you did manage to get your brain back.

he shamelessly hovers back down towards the lower half of your sweaty little body, big hands of his grasping each of your thighs to greedily spread them a little wider and push them back against you, essentially folding you, as he resumes what he was doing in admiring the absolute state of your wrecked little cunt. his cunt, that he had the privilege of using whenever his precious girl let him.

“fuuuckin’ hell, love…” he rasps out, warm breath from his mouth hitting your inner thigh as he praises the sight before him, before he plants another peck there, too, right where his fingers are gripping the plush of your thigh. he just genuinely couldn’t stop staring at it. his cum. the way it was spilling from inside of you, after he’d stuffed it so deep in there you’d think it was your body producing it and not his. the runniness of it all. it was genuinely like a sweet, slow, milky waterfall. goddamn was it lewd… not to mention the giant wet patch you’d personally made for him on the sheets below you, before he even spilled inside. he was definitely taking a mental snapshot, trying as hard as he could to remember the image for next time.

“mmm, fuck…” you slowly drawl out yourself, mimicking his profanity, as you register more and more of the pleasure he gave you in the aftermath of it all, seeping into your bones. you let out a heavy breath, tilting your head down towards where he’s at as your eyes finally, fully focus on him, and you finally take in everything around the two of you. everything that just happened, everything that you just did to each other. it turns his gaze away from your pussy once again towards your face, and he grins, handsome and wolfish, cockily almost.

“that good?” he asks, his voice that perfect mixture of gravel and timbre that has your insides stirring all over again.

“mhm.” you confirm, smiling down at him and using what little strength you were slowly beginning to regain to nod your head, as he slowly crawls back up your body so that his face meets yours all over again. you take it as a cue to finally relax your legs when he lets go of your thighs, tiredly slumping them down against the bed as your breaths become more stable and less heavy, bit by bit.

“yeah. think you soaked the bed a bit.” he teases, full-on beaming at you as he relishes in the way your eyes widen ever so slightly and your lips part in surprise as you process his words. oh shit. oh fuck. (no wonder the bed below you felt wetter than usual.)

“…i didn’t mean to.” the word spill out of your lips before you realise, whiny and breathless as you mumble them up at him, barely even realising that you were frowning partially before he chuckles softly once again and his hand comes back up to cradle your cheek. you find yourself leaning in to the warmth of the touch, so perfectly paired with the roughness of his palm, naturally.

“shhhh…” he immediately coos, before smiling again and shaking his head at how upset and slightly embarrassed you looked. did you not know?

“quiet down, baby…” he continues, practically purring out the words to you. “you know i love it when you cum like that, hm?”

he can’t help but chuckle yet again when your lips shut but your eyes remain widened, probably so shy and bashful by his shameless words. it’s almost enough to wipe away all the thoughts from your mind, once again. almost. you can’t think of that much to say in response, apart from-

“you’re perfect.” you state sweetly, that dumb little look still present on your face as you blink up at him, looking at simon like he built the universe for you. like he hung every star in the sky, just for you. he smiles, at the compliment, and in turn, you smile, too.

“you’re better.” he breathes out, lovingly, words so soft it’s practically a whisper. his eyes are glued on to yours, a testament to how much he’s focused on you and your recovery from being plowed so senselessly right now as he refuses to tear his gaze off of his woman. (and also, he was done relishing in the sight of your adorably spent little pussy by now.)

“mmm… i- i love you, simon.” you breathe out lazily, the happy expression on your face growing tenfold as the words leave your lips. it was safe ground, for the two of you. what was once a terrifying phrase was now comforting, due to the fact that you both had already began using the sacred “l” word for the past maybe two, three months now. the happiness on his face spreads as he processes it, in turn mirroring the expression on yours, as he chuckles softly and beams at you. if you didn’t know any better, if you’d maybe recollected a little more brain power by now, it would have maybe also seemed like he was getting choked up.

“i love you too.” he breathes out with those beautiful caramel brown eyes of his still glued to yours, followed by the sweetest little mumble of your name, before he plants another kiss to your cheek and finally flops over to the side of you, gently pulling you against his chest. you let out a small exhale of both relief as well as fatigue as the exhaustion washes over you, and you allow your eyes to flutter shut as you rest your head on his chest, because you finally realised after it all that you were safe. you were home.

home with your lieutenant. your boyfriend. your simon.

<3

© sugarmeowe 2024. please do not copy, translate or claim any of my writing or works as your own, or share to any third party sites!!

a/n- FIRST EVER POST WOWOWEEEEWOW!!! also jfc this ended up being SOOO much longer than i intended, i had to do so much tweaking to it in comparison to the blurb i originally had written in my notes. but i hope you all enjoy!! please do like ‘n reblog ‘n share if you did, it would mean a lot to me as a new writer!! until then, see u next time sexy tumblr people :-)

[hisbuni]

SAY IT, DO IT, SHOW IT, PROVE IT

☆ franklin saint x f! reader￨nsfw content￨wc: 2k

after a tense argument with his mom about leon getting shot in their back yard, franklin needed something to ease his mind.

mdni. black reader in mind. swearing. season one! franklin cause i like ‘em soft. normal snowfall warnings: selling weed & coke, shootings.

𝓴aus. the lack of fics for him shows the people have been slacking!!! 😔

“you gon make me ask?” franklin’s mom, yelled, throwing a hand up in frustration at her son who stopped in his tracks at her voice. he lightly sighed under his breath as he turned around to look at her from the doorframe of the hallway.

the day had been long for the both of them, so he’d hoped she would lay off him a little but she hadn’t since he had walked through the front door that night. he couldn’t really blame her though. leon getting shot in the backyard of the house they both laid their heads was somewhat as stressful as lying to his momma, selling coke, hiding it from the cops and making good but dirty money— let’s just say their situations came with their differences.

the two of them looked at each other a second before franklin spoke up. “it’s leon… you know. always starting some shit. finally mouthed off to the wrong person. probably caught him comin’ by the house.”

“so you had nothing to do with it, right?” she replied making him cock his head to the side and squint his eyes in disbelief at his moms’ question.

“no. come on, momma. of course not,” he assured, walking around the kitchen table where he stands closer to her. she stays in her position: at the head of the table.

she shakes her head with a scoff. “you scare me, franklin...” her breathing become uneven making her take a slight deep breath in. “how easy it is for you to look at me in the eye and lie your ass off. you got your best friends blood on your clothes and you don’t miss a god damn beat.”

“you know, jerome was here.” she slowly made her way to side of the stable where franklin stood. “heard the news. decided to check in. guilt was all over his face. at least someone in his family has still got a fucking conscience,” she added, looking him in the eyes.

“what’d he say?” franklin quickly asks.

“he didn’t have to say shit… i wanna hear it from you.”

he directs his eyes elsewhere for a few before looking back over to her. “what you wanna hear?”

“start with how long you’ve been slinging the weed for him.”

it wasn’t weed he’d been slagging for nobody. he knew that but she didn’t. he didn’t wanna dig himself into a deeper hole so he lied like he’d been doing all these other months. “six months. give or take.”

“6 months you’ve been lying to my face,” she scoffs at him with a shake of her head before turning around. “playing me like a fucking fool—” she mumbles before sharply turning back to him, eyes filling with tears. “…and don’t let me get started about that girl you been sneaking in here!” she yells pointing at him with the cigarette in her hand. her legs drawing her closer to him once again.

“no, it was hard lying to you— a-and it’s not some girl ma.”

“yeah? who is it then franklin!?” she yells in his face making him look down in disappointment.

now looking back up at her, franklin went to speak again but there was pounding on the front door making him push his lips back together. they both direct their attention to the front door where mr. wright stands. cissy quickly wipes the tears from her face as he enters in his uniform. “i hope it’s not too late,” he starts as franklin gives his mom a final glance before walking to the back of the house, giving them room to talk. “…just wanted to check if you were alright.”

their voices fade as he descends further into the house and he makes it into his room, closing the door with a sigh. “hey,” the welcome was soft and expected because of your almost everyday occurring presence. at first you were leaning against his headboard but you moved off the bed and stood to see him. franklin doesn’t flinch at your presence, only giving a glance— without that, he practically ignores it as he sits on the end of the bed without a word. he stares off into space, not giving you another glance. you don’t take it to heart after hearing what had happened with leon then the argument with his mom.

you thought maybe he just wanted to be alone. “call me later— or whenever you get the chance, alright?” you turn to leave through the window without a reply knowing you wouldn’t get one but you were proven wrong when you hear his voice. “hey. c’mere,” he mumbled, making you turn to look his way. he was looking at you now, eyes dead set on you.

“you sure? it’s cool if wanna be alone. don’t want you fighting me or nun,” you grin playfully, knowing he wouldn’t even raise his voice at you. he shakes his head with a light smile, “might throw a couple punches if don’t c’mere.” you chuckle lightly as you walk over to him. he parts his legs for you to stand in between and wraps his arms around your torso. you take his face in your hands, rubbing your thumbs along his hairline as you appreciate his handsome face.

“heard what to said about me not being ‘some girl’,” you smile, eyes averting between his eyes and lips. “…want you to tell me what i am then.”

he scoffs in a disbelief at your teasing before smiling, taking his bottom lip in between his teeth lightly to stop himself from kissing you. “you should know.” his head slightly titled to his left to admire you.

“no, i know, but i want you to tell me,” you say, titling your head in the same direction as his, in a teasing manner.

he laughs an airy laugh and in that process picks his head up the right way (you doing the same), before replying. “my girl.”

“your girl?” you question and he’s quick to respond with a nod. you smile at the gesture before adding, “i like that.” you lean into him to kiss his lips, and he doesn’t miss a beat, kissing you back. arms wrapping around your waist tighter to pull you closer. it starts off slow, wet, your heads rotating every once and awhile to find the perfect spot for your lips to connect, but once you feel the tip of his tongue graze the inside of your mouth you open your mouth to him and allow both your tongues to meet.

you hummed out, enjoying the taste of him. your lips are wet with one others’ spit as he moves his hands down to the back of your knees. he pushes lightly on the back of them and pulls one of your legs over his then the other so your straddling his lap. his hands move from your waist to underneath your shirt. your deep kisses soon become pecks before you pull away from him.

“if she hears us she’s definitely not gonna like me,” you say with a light smile, hands resting on his shoulders. he chuckles at you, thumbs rubbing your sides underneath your shirt. “well, be quiet then,” he says with a grin. you playfully hit his chest before he’s pulling you back into a kiss.

the two of you wasted no time to get your clothes off, hands roaming each others’ bodies once your back close to one another. now, you’re on top of his in the middle of the bed, kissing him deeply as you grind yourself against him. his hands gripping a hand full of your ass as you do so, his hand kind of guiding the pace of your hips. you were surprised he was even letting you be on top, normally he’d flip it over and fuck you that way.

you push your hips up a bit, and move your hand down to wrap your dick. before you can even rub his tip along your wet folds and push it inside of you, without breaking the kiss, he flips the two of you over. you’d spoken too soon. you don’t comment on it, knowing if won’t change his on going habit and because soon after he slowly slides himself inside of you. his deliciously sized head sliding passed your folds first and filling your entrance up. you moan lightly against his lips.

then his full length slides inside, making the kiss come to a slight pause as your mouth is slightly open in awe. “franklin,” you moan, arms instantly wrapping around his back. he doesn’t hesitate to start moving his hips at a good pace. you try to stay as quiet as you could, muffling your moan with kisses. the dark room seemed to get stuffy as his hips smacked lightly against your thighs. his groans fell against deaf ears as he didn’t have to try as hard to hide them like you.

you coo’d for him, calling out for him to fuck you harder. he could feel the way your pussy clinched and sputtering around him. he did as asked, pushing his hips into your thighs, making sure to reach deep. the deeper he reached the more you moaned and smashed your lips into his to muffle them.

your pussy continued to clench and squeeze around him making it even harder for him to hold on. his pace doesn’t lessen even when his head is lost in the feeling of you. "g-gonna cum,” you moan against his lips. “fuck, me too,” he mumbled, feeling your pussy squeeze him tightly. you moan quietly as you cum, the feeling of you pulsating around him pulls his cum from him. his cum rushes through him and into you, filling you up.

franklin lazily kisses you as the two of you calm down. soon after, he sits himself up and slowly pulls out, careful not to hurt you before lays down next to you. you snuggle in close to his chest and he wraps his around you.

𝓴aus. plz by the end of this i was so done with writing it. headcanons after i am finished watching the show.

@wide-nose-and-wonderful the tag you asked for ⭐️.

[punkscowardschampions]

Barly & Ronali & Cali & Marly

Bartley: [Private to Carly]

Bartley: Catch the fight there then, Carly? 💪🥊🤕

Bartley: got you ready for another round yourself, I’m betting

Carly: whats the craic w you lately? you’re always slagging me

Bartley: Come on, we all know

Carly: what d’ya know?

Bartley: John says gorja girls like you always cry rape when we dump yous and that you’re gonna get Mosey banged up, like

Carly: he’d have the knowing of making girls cry sure enough

Bartley: You’d never say nothing like that to me brother’s face

Carly: & ud not say nothing like this to me in front of mosey’s face neither

Bartley: you do know you’re not his girlfriend, don’t ya

Carly: yea, boy, I know more than u about who I am, like

Bartley: [a boy from school when you went too] said he rode you, are you lying now or was he then??

Carly: yer man there would say, sure, he wishes 😅

Bartley: Daft cunt

Bartley: I said you only liked us lot

Carly: havent yous all known me since I were a 👶? catch yourself on to what I’m saying not some lad u no see no more 

Bartley: that don’t mean you fit in, or ever will, like

Bartley: Our girls would never act like you, or they’d be disowned

Carly: sure look, I know, k

Carly: no need you to play up to being the big man & put me in my place

Bartley: You know it’s coming for proper

Carly: is it? 🔮🎱

Bartley: I shouldn’t warn ye

Carly: why are you?

Bartley: ‘cos the place we lived before, it happened, I’ve seen it

Carly: I’m grand 😁☁️🌼🌻🍀🌞🌈🌚🌟 nothing to see for the bad

Bartley: You don’t know, stupid girl

Bartley: if people want you moved on, they’ll do it by setting your trailer ablaze and not stop to check who’s inside

Carly: its only johno whos after us getting moved on, same as its ever been, don’t worry yourself

Bartley: Do you know how much the women hate your mammy, don’t be turning out like her or I’m telling yous

Bartley: I’m not just trying to put the wind up you

Carly: I’m just me

Bartley: Just be more respectful, don’t let him mess you around

Carly: he won’t

Bartley: He’s a whore, I don’t see you getting him to keep it in his pants ‘cept for you, sorry, like

Carly: I’m not asking him to do nothing like that, I’d ask it of none of yous

Bartley: Some of us are decent, you know

Carly: idk but its sweet of you to bother yourself about me

Bartley: Charming, that is

Bartley: I’m only bothered about my family having to move on ‘cos of trouble again

Carly: no trouble off me, I’ll swear it if you want

Bartley: You don’t know what that even means 😅

Carly: yous lads are all like family to me too is what I know even when none of yous lot treat me like it back

Bartley: Probably don’t be saying that now

Carly: ah come off it, you catch my meaning of being bothered about you all 🥰🤗

Bartley: some of us more than others…

Carly: youre looking 💚 again now

Carly: do you want me to bother about you more?

Bartley: ah give over

Carly: k I’ll not make u 😤😠 or 😳 only asking

Bartley: You should be blushing

Carly: hows that?

Bartley: Aren’t you embarrassed?

Carly: no what would I be for?

Bartley: Everyone’s talking about your 🍒

Carly: not for the 1st time u & yer man @ school have been too for donkey’s years so

Carly: why am I to care?

Bartley: now you’ve not got one and you let Mosey pop it, s’why

Carly: or I let [the boy from school] or someone else before him

Bartley: Don’t you even like him?

Carly: I’ve said I like him

Carly: you was 🤣🤣🤣 on us for it

Bartley: You don’t really act like it though

Carly: ah go on, tell me how I act, it’ll be gas hearing u

Bartley: well you basically just offered me next go so

Carly: I only asked if you like me cos you might be hurting for this idk

Bartley: Up yourself much, girl

Carly: guard up much, boy

Bartley: Piss off

Carly: so you don’t, got it

Bartley: I wouldn’t now, would I

Carly: idk do I, only a stupid girl, like

Bartley: Quit your acting it

Carly: I’m doing nothing daft here & the only 🔥s are for the fun of ❤️🧡💛

Bartley: whatever, Carly, not you getting smacked for it right now so why bother yourself

Carly: nor you

Bartley: some of us care about more than what we’re after

Carly: I care but you think I’m full of it when I say

Bartley: Associating with you right now is a death sentence

Carly: what am I to give as answer to that?

Bartley: Just so you know, no more 🔥s or hanging out

Bartley: not for a bit, sure Mosey will get sent away on a job or something too, if there’s work to be had

Carly: k I’m told

Bartley: You should tell Ali, Ronan’s just like his brother 🙄

Carly: no hes not or to be sure youd think I’m offering him next go

Bartley: Be ‘cause you wanted experienced, he’ll end up like him when he can convince her to let him get his in

Carly: I’ll knock for your daddy then will I, yea?

Bartley: Don’t start

Bartley: what’s got you all mouthing off?

Carly: you’re starting 

Bartley: You not up for sharing with her, that it?

Carly: am I a wagon or do I wish he would wife me? 

Carly: decide what your giving out is

Bartley: you’re jealous, Jesus, greedy much

Carly: you’re just after being a gobshite like that’ll get a rise

Bartley: If you love him so much, shouldn’t have let his brother pound you, s’not helping your case, love

Carly: k tah for your late advice

Bartley: not my fault you’re such a little jezzie

Carly: no its nothing to do w you

Bartley: 🖕 swivel 

Carly: sorry u love me so much it’s making you 🍋💔👿 I didnt mean for it, bb 

Bartley: No one loves you, slag

Carly: you can be staying warm w out a 🔥 for telling yourself & me that, can’t you? 💪👑

Ronan: [Private to Ali]

Ronan: Some party there, eh?

Ali: 😵‍💫 has never felt more appropriate

Ronan: True enough

Ali: The dust settle yet?

Ronan: You know, it’ll never blow over quick as all that

Ali: Extra mature points for not saying as quick as it was over, yeah

Ronan: Everyone’s talking about it still so

Ali: No, sure he’s proud of his performance, what more could you ask for but to be morning news 🤩

Ali: You’re telling me not to ask when the next party is, huh?

Ronan: I’m telling you not to come ‘round for a time

Ali: Okay, are you coming out then?

Ronan: Probably best not

Ali: Too aggro to be boring rn, I suppose, been there

Ronan: I can’t be associating myself with you when you are with her

Ali: She was your friend too, come on

Ali: I know you as a collective mind but are you actually bothered about it?

Ronan: My brother could be sent off, what they say

Ronan: it’s not friendly of her to cause the trouble she might, is, has done, whatever

Ali: Serious?

Ronan: Johno’s got himself convinced she’ll ruin Mosey’s life when he’s had it with her, he’s not got that from nowhere, has he?

Ali: I don’t think Carly would do that but

Ali: Moses must’ve known it was a possibility when he did it, right, getting sent off, I mean

Ronan: He don’t think through things, ‘cept what he’s after, you know

Ali: Mm, okay, that does sound about right

Ali: Maybe it’s just like… cold water on a cat fight though, not full banishment

Ali: You go away on jobs all the time, they’re making it a punishment for him but he might’ve gone anyway, if something was lined up, you know?

Ronan: Yeah, I’ve put my mind more to what could happen here while he’s off

Ronan: Carls and her ma weren’t liked before, I don’t want to see her punished for this

Ali: See, you are her friend

Ali: I can keep her busy, away from the site 

Ali: Wholesome activities only 🙏

Ronan: I was about to say can you have her away with you for some time but you beat us to it

Ali: It’s not like we wouldn’t be hanging out every day anyway

Ali: you can still thank me for it like it’s a massive favour though, if you like 😉

Ronan: Long as you both are clear, don’t matter

Ali: God, at least pretend you’ll miss my company

Ronan: Come on, I will

Ronan: but I missed it at the bonfire already, didn’t see you hardly at all

Ali: You know I can’t resist tinkering ⚙️💘🤖

Ali: I didn’t expect the party to end quite so suddenly though, or I would’ve spent more time with you

Ronan: I could ask if that’s all you can’t resist but I don’t reckon I’m after the answer

Ali: Be barking up the wrong tree there, wouldn’t I?

Ali: Johno could practically give a hate speech on us non-travellers

Ronan: He is now, like

Ali: Gutted to miss it but I’ve got some previews, I get the gist

Ali: total no-go

Ronan: Her daddy could be one of us, but none of ‘em will have it, sure, they’d talk themselves ‘round in circles so as it weren’t so

Ali: Sure, even if he was, he’s not a proper family man and she hasn’t been raised to act right so

Ali: she’s fucked either way

Ronan: Talk to her, she’ll listen to you

Ali: She said she didn’t even like him yesterday, before she very clearly did

Ali: I don’t know, I mean, what can I tell her?

Ronan: I don’t know

Ali: I can see what she actually feels about him but that doesn’t necessarily mean I’ll tell you

Ronan: It’s a worry but I don’t need to hear the details more than I have

Ali: You know she’s not going to ruin his life though, come on

Ali: try and convince Johnny of that, then everything can calm

Ronan: What can I convince him of?

Ronan: he don’t wanna hear nothing but what backs how he views it

Ali: I’ll keep her out of his way, maybe that’s the best we can do

Ali: he’ll get over it, he’ll have to

Ronan: I don’t know when I’ll see you next then

Ali: 🥺 Don’t say it like that

Ronan: It’s how it is, not how I want it

Ali: You can go to a gorja party, if it’s not mine, you can’t know where I’ll be and when

Ronan: You’ve a point, fair play, let me know when and where

Ali: 😁 You give up too easy, boy

Ali: it’s not like YOU’VE slept with anyone and need to be sent away to think about what you’ve done

Ronan: Carls is off limits to me now, can’t get that punishment

Ali: It’d be pretty bad form, from what I understand

Ali: my brothers have never liked the same girl, to my knowledge, again

Ronan: Have to see what he says after a bit, if he’s still bothered about her or no

Ali: Super romantic 😏

Ronan: Mosey boy isn’t known for it, is he?

Ali: I was talking about you though

Ronan: Ah well

Ali: just in case you were feeling left out, EVERYONE talking about him so much 🥱

Ronan: Cheers, it’s nice of you

Ali: Feel the love, dickhead

Ali: Is it weird though for real, your brother, like…

Ronan: Is what weird?

Ali: If one of my brothers got with one of my friends, idk how I’d feel

Ronan: How much of my friend is she? I don’t know, maybe it’s been about him for the whole of the time

Ali: I don’t think she thinks things through that much either, not to be a bitch or anything, just not her style

Ronan: You’ve probably a point there again, give you it

Ali: You know I always do

Ronan: Always, is it?

Ali: Don’t doubt me, boy

Ronan: You know I don’t

Ali: Cute, almost makes me wanna get out of my pit

Ronan: You’re welcome, he’d say

Ali: 🤢🤢 that was bad

Ronan: Yeah

Ali: There’s nothing worse than watching someone’s failed attempts at flirting though, at least if you’re on the receiving end you can be mildly flattered

Ronan: Not often he does fail, it would’ve been something to see if he had

Ali: 💔 not that kind of BFF, gotta let her pick her own man

Ronan: But he isn’t hers, it’s what’s stupid, all this and what for?

Ali: You know what

Ronan: Do I?

Ali: Yeah

Ronan: Yeah?

Ali: Oh my God, piss take! 😅

Ronan: By God, I never know what you mean

Ali: but you know that people fuck people they probably shouldn’t all the time

Ronan: Not all people

Ali: No, not everyone

Ali: but lots

Ronan: Some of us are decent

Ali: You might be but I’m certainly not

Ronan: Aren’t you?

Ali: Do you think I am?

Ronan: Yeah, why wouldn’t I?

Ali: I don’t know, it hadn’t occurred to me that anyone thought I was decent, I’ll be blushing when I see you next now

Ronan: It’d be cute of you

Ali: Oh, I’m definitely not cute, liar 😝

Ronan: I’ve seen you give it a lash, you liar

Ali: [send him a purposefully gross looking selfie like morning after vibes am I right, sure you still look adorable, you hoe]

Ronan: [send her one back with trying to outdo her vibes but I’m sure you don’t look that bad yourself sir]

Ali: Ew 💙

Ronan: Charming, that is

Ali: Nu-uh, the heart makes it nice

Ronan: Carly’s charm school is where it comes from, I know

Ali: 2nd time I’ve been accused of copying her…

Ronan: The girl loves to put a 💙 of any colour

Ali: Useful when you don’t know what else to say

Ronan: Don’t you know what to say to me?

Ali: Not always

Ronan: We don’t have to always, quiet can be nice too

Ali: now that is a nice way of telling me to shut up

Ronan: It’s a way to say they talk too much sometimes, don’t mean we need to

Ali: None of them are going to be there, unless you bring them

Ronan: You bringing Carls?

Ali: I’m keeping her preoccupied, aren’t I

Ronan: Were the mission I set you

Ali: Alright, international man of mystery 

Ali: If you want her there, she’ll be there

Ronan: She’s got nowhere else to go, I can’t say I don’t

Ali: You aren’t going to say you don’t, more like

Ronan: I’ve said I miss you

Ali: You did say that

Ali: I wish you were here now

Ronan: Where?

Ali: Told you I was still in my pit

Ali: everyone else must’ve gone out already, it’s quiet

Ronan: I can be coming through your window if you like

Ali: you know I’m not gonna fuck you just because they have, yeah

Ali: just

Ronan: You don’t need to fuck me to see me, we’re mates, no?

Ali: ‘course, didn’t want to give the wrong impression, I just want to lay on you for a bit, is that okay?

Ronan: I’m on my way

Ali: Don’t get the wrong window, Romeo

Ronan: Don’t get the name wrong, girl

Ali: S’close, let me have it

Ronan: You won’t let me have nothing if I call you Ellie or whatever

Ali: What are you asking us for?

Ronan: I mean, I’d be out the window before I was in

Ali: but ask me

Ronan: What for?

Ali: 🐓 game now

Ronan: I’ll give you the wrong impression if I’m not careful

Ali: Why be careful, it’s just us for now

Ronan: ‘Cause I like when it’s just us and I don’t want you to put a stop to it

Ali: I’m not going to, I missed you too

Ronan: I’m not getting the wrong window

Ali: Or the wrong impression

Ali: I just don’t want to take it that far, you don’t either

Ronan: How far do you want to take it?

Ali: I’m thinking about kissing you ‘til our faces are numb

Ronan: Jesus, you’ve got me thinking about it

Ali: We’ll still be mates, nothing has to change but I’d really love it

Ronan: I’d be a bad friend if I didn’t do something you’d really love

Ali: You don’t have to

Ali: but I couldn’t pretend I wasn’t lying here thinking about it, it’d make things awkward

Ronan: I want to

Ali: Good

Ali: I think you’re gorgeous

Ronan: You’re not copying her by calling us unreal so

Ali: It feels very real so

Ronan: It does

Ali: How long can you stay?

Ronan: ‘Til people there start to come back from where they’ve gone to

Ali: I miss sharing a bed, you can nap, if you need

Ronan: I’ll only need if we don’t hear ‘em and I have to hide under the blankets for a bit

Ali: Now who’s cute

Ronan: I think you’re still it

Ali: If we’re playing tag, I’m going to let you catch me too easy right now

Ronan: Having to let you out my sight would be hard for me too

Ali: You can look at me

Ronan: If I don’t close my eyes at all you might be scared off, like

Ali: I don’t get scared

Ronan: I already know it from looking

Ali: You’re close, right

Ronan: [tell her where you are but clearly rushing to her gaff is the energy here so probably]

Ali: Thank God

Ronan: Do you know I’ve wanted to kiss you from [a previous moment that I can’t specify but unlike Carly he isn’t going cray and saying years and years, obvs though it’s a while ago, we know he’s been crushing for a sec]?

Ali: I didn’t

Ali: but now you have to kiss me like you’ve been waiting [roughly however long that is]

Ronan: I’ll give it a lash, Ali

Ali: You’ll be happy that you did, Ronan

Ronan: ‘Til you’re numb and don’t feel it no more

Ali: I want to be so overstimulated I cry

Ronan: Like you’re [Carly’s mum lol] hammered, promise

Ali: well now I’m just touching myself thinking about [Carly’s mum], tah very much

Ronan: We’ve all done it

Ali: 😅 idiot

Ronan: Lucky you’ve a bed, I’m out here walking the streets ‘til I’m in yours, hands where everyone can see ‘em

Ali: I’ll only watch where you put them if you let me

Ronan: I reckon I can let you

Ali: I’ll keep mine to myself too, it’s mutual

Ronan: Fair

Ali: Ain’t that what friends do?

Ronan: My other friends aren’t doing this with me

Ali: Possible I’ve got it wrong but

Ronan: Feels right to me though

Ali: you’ll feel good underneath me

Ronan: And on top of you

Ali: this pillow feels nothing like the weight of you would

Ronan: I’m closer now, you don’t need it

Ali: I need you, your tongue in my mouth, urgently

Ronan: I’m hurrying myself

Ali: I’m closer than you

Ronan: Maybe I should be staying by the window to watch you

Ali: You won’t get caught?

Ronan: Only by you

Ali: I’m a mess but it’s for you

Ronan: I’m about to make more of a mess of you

Ali: there’s not enough makeup left to ruin

Ronan: You don’t need it neither

Ali: Bruises last longer than smudged mascara anyway

Ronan: They’ll be there ‘til we see each other next

Ali: Wait until you miss me again

Ronan: You know I’ll miss you when I leave

Ali: Stay, sleepover

Ronan: We won’t get caught? 

Ali: I have a secret spot, you can hide there, or we’ll stay up there

Ronan: I’ll stay then

Ali: No one will mind, we’re friends

Ronan: And you need me

Ali: Desperately

Ronan: [let’s be nice and have you show up to climb through this window because I said you weren’t far away]

Ali: [Private to Carly, some time on this day of the morning after, because can’t literally be attached to Ronan all day, will have to allow your fam to see you’re alive at some point before you sneak back up so]

Ali: Are you still hiding? 🐰

Carly: are u 😤😠 @ me too?

Ali: No, of course I’m not

Ali: I got told to stay away from the site but that doesn’t mean you

Ali: Are they being awful?

Carly: told by who?

Ali: Ronan

Carly: oh k 😮‍💨

Carly: not the lad I 💭 you was about to say

Ali: Not Moses

Ali: have you spoken to him yet?

Carly: I can’t before he speaks to me

Carly: its on him if he wants to or not now like

Ali: He’s going to want to apologize for everyone else’s insane reactions, if nothing else

Carly: idk but I hope he’ll want to say something

Ali: He’ll be freaking, because of them, not you

Ali: it’s not an excuse to say nothing though

Carly: he’ll have to say bye if only that if its how they are trying to tell me it is 👋💙

Ali: No way, whatever Johnny says, they wouldn’t get rid of him for that

Carly: john boy’s freaking cos his control over mosey isnt like he thought, none of the adults are talking 👶🍼😭

Ali: Exactly, don’t worry because of him, baby

Carly: he promised to look after me & he will

Ali: What was it like? ✨

Carly: 💫💙💦🌊💙☄️💙🌠🌌💙

Ali: I’m so happy for you, seriously 🌞💛🐣💛👑

Carly: I’m sorry if johno refuses to take u to see your brother now

Carly: I didn’t think of that before

Ali: You couldn’t not do it because of that, don’t even worry about it 

Ali: I’ll get there, but yeah, I’m sure he’ll never want to see my face again either 👶🍼😭

Carly: [her mum] can take you long as shes not 🔥💀👻 w me

Ali: The witch hunt is full steam ahead… [Carly’s mum] wasn’t even there for the good bits

Carly: I’d tell her so she feels like she was but he said I’m not to anyone but you 

Ali: I’ll have to talk mechanics to her and bore her to tears 😂

Ali: he wouldn’t say you could tell me if he didn’t want it to happen again though, I don’t think

Carly: but everyone reckons they know so it probably won’t 😢🌊😭

Ali: He’ll just have to learn to be more secret himself

Carly: its not his fault he can’t it was 💫💙💦🌊💙☄️💙🌠🌌💙

Ali: Okay but he can drive, that’s what other teenagers have to do, get out the house, or the camp, in this case

Carly: yea he did pick me up & I didnt think he would maybe hes full of surprises ✨💥⚡️🎈🎉🎀🎊

Ali: Precisely, besides, lads will drag their holes over broken glass when they want you

Ali: s’mean of us to exploit that fact but we all know it’s true still 🧚‍♀️

Carly: 🔮🧜

Carly: & he can’t be calling me mean after everything I did

Ali: No one could call you mean and be being real ❤️🌼🤍🍓💚

Carly: 🥺🥰 you’re being 🧚✨👼💛🌞🍯🌻💛 today

Ali: I must’ve been being a bitch yesterday, Ronan said the same thing, well, less emojis 😆

Carly: no never ever but yesterday feels like donkey’s ago cos today already feels long from the burn in your bed 💀👻 threats & the like

Carly: so I must miss u

Ali: Has someone seriously said that to you?

Carly: don’t worry yourself, nothing ive not heard before

Ali: I don’t need three guesses

Ali: There’s hearing it and then there’s it being used as an actual threat

Carly: we’re nowhere dangerous yet 💛🤞💙 its only his timing was grand I even care, u know how I get in the morning 🌞☔️🌈

Ali: You have to come stay here, seriously

Carly: its k 🐅🧡 don’t be scared, I’m safe long as moses likes me

Ali: Don’t you want a break anyway? You did say you missed me 😘

Carly: ah you didnt take me w you when u got yourself gone so I reckoned you wasnt missing me back 🥺😢😭

Ali: Umm, you was a LITTLE busy, honey

Carly: am I ever ever too busy for you? 🐝🌻 no no

Ali: Mosey might’ve disagreed but idc 

Carly: he might regret me now for all I know & I know u dont

Ali: If he’s going to be such an idiot then his loss is my gain

Carly: will I just talk to him 1st? idk he calls me a nightmare already what have I to lose

Ali: He’s pure shocking at flirting, bless him

Ali: the worst he can do is not respond, would you rather that or waiting, that’s the question there

Carly: he was better for us talking on our own or I’m desperate like but hey

Ali: Lads usually are, their friends make ‘em worse in so many ways

Carly: it needs to be happening again or I’ll be acting up worse than whatsoever names called me before, my god

Ali: is that how it feels

Carly: yea 🥺🌊😢💦😭

Ali: I would message him, if I were you

Ali: but he might be in a really bad mood, if the fight were anything to go by before I legged it

Carly: its that mood when offering to fix it can fuck up massive

Ali: potentially, yeah

Carly: but he does have the knowing that I’m not all talk now 🍆💜🔮

Ali: Let him lead, that’s the easiest way, if he goes off on one, then you’ll feel if it’s a no-go or not

Carly: I am a girl like that & he is sure into it

Ali: 🤞🤞🤞

Ali: don’t let his words bother you if they’re sharp

Carly: can I come stay if they are? it’ll hurt ✂️💔📌

Ali: Of course you can because I know 💞

Carly: I love u d’ya know 😍💋🥰💞😘💓

Ali: It’s mutual, girl 

Carly: here now whats this about ro ro & less emojis?

Ali: oh yeah, that

Ali: he is here right now but if he needs to leave I can make him

Carly: oh yeah that the girl says

Carly: how were you to keep your gob shut on him being there & say nothing about how yous are getting on? a deep cut worse than  ✂️💔📌 to be sure

Ali: It felt like a bit of a liberty considering the 😶🥶 treatment they’re all supposed to be giving you

Ali: but I just wanted him to come over

Carly: hes always less 😶🥶 than the others are

Ali: That made me feel a bit less of a bitch for it, definitely

Carly: & even if he was 🍋💔👿 I want 😁☁️🌼🌻🍀🌞🌈🌚🌟 for you

Ali: I’ve been kissing him all day

Carly: aw 😍💋🥰💞😘💓

Ali: and a bit more but not the full thing

Ali: doesn’t seem like a good time

Carly: I’m sorry, thats my fault

Ali: nah, it’s me, not that I think I have to but I know I don’t want to with him yet, which feels mean

Carly: idk hes ready either I’d not say so, you don’t need to feel bad

Ali: I feel bad that I don’t want it to be him, like it’s really stupid honestly

Carly: ever or for the 1st?

Ali: for the 1st, idk why I care, I know virginity isn’t real

Carly: I cared, I wanted it to be his brother, like

Ali: What do you like about him?

Ali: as an actual ? not saying I see nothing to like

Carly: I like how I feel I could suffocate when he looks at me

Carly: ive never not had to hold my breath round that boy

Ali: I felt like I wanted him to stop my breathing today, maybe it can be him

Carly: who else is it? is there someone yet or no?

Ali: no one realistic

Ali: They don’t like me, not like Ronan definitely does

Carly: ah sure but I didn’t say can you want I said do you want, its not realistic its how u feel not how u think

Ali: okay, yeah

Carly: its not like I’d decide to be after moses if I could control shit in that way, I know who he is, what he is

Ali: True, feelings are messy 🤖👽 

Ali: I’ll get over it if I can’t have it, but I’m not ready to give up yet, that’s how it’d feel and that is mean to whoever it actually is

Carly: is it me cos u know you can have me its not even cheating

Ali: Ah well now I feel really bad to say no

Ali: If only, Carls, that would be so simple and ❤️🧡💛💚💙💜

Carly: I wouldve let you turn me all the colours, yea

Ali: S’not a never, girl

Ali: you know that

Carly: ❤️🍄🧡🐅💛🌞💚🍀💙🧿💜🔮

Ali: You really are the sweetest

Ali: we’re going to have the most fun, whatever these boys are playing at

Carly: no lie before I like him but ily

Ali: I love you the most 

Carly: I’ll not tell ro, poor 👶 boy already a better 💋 than him too I am

Ali: sure he’s just buzzing for all the practice I’ve given him 😏

Carly: youre 🍀🐇🌠 I gave him his 1st as a proper 👶 or youd have not been going all day

Ali: Sounds like you just want me to be thinking about you 💋

Carly: & the things I did for you before I even knew u 

Ali: 💜🔮

Carly: back you go to it then while you’re 💭💋 of me

Ali: oh I always am

Ali: don’t you want me to wait, to see what Moses 💬💋

Carly: if its bad I’ll still have to get myself over yours & if it dont go that way nobody best wait for me but him

Carly: have your fun baby

Ali: Alright, well windows open and we’re up the ladder

Ali: 🍀🐇🌠

Carly: 🍆💜🔮 to tell myself it’ll be grand

Ali: The male ego is a delicate creature

Carly: & sure I’m not pure class @ being delicate cept looking it but hey 🌼

Ali: but if you know he’s just as scared, despite the potential for claws and teeth, it makes it far less scary 😾

Carly: I’m no 🐅🧡 how you are but wild still & he dont scare me but in ways I’m after

Ali: ❤️🧡💛

Carly: ❤️💜💙

Carly: [Private to Moses for the absolute drama mick]

Carly: [her mum] said I’m only to offer you 🧊 if it’s w [whatever booze this boy likes best]

Moses: And she can’t keep a man? Must be the rest, eh

Carly: to her mind she’s not after keeping em past their use

Moses: You’ve noticed everyone’s complete lack of shock that you did this

Carly: I did it?

Moses: Are you going to act coy now? Because you’re going to need to get better at the acting, no one has questioned the validity of the story, like

Carly: its just I did everything u told me to do

Carly: to include the telling of nobody but ali how you said

Moses: Everyone still fucking found out, didn’t they

Moses: I can’t give you brownie points for that when it’s done sweet fuck all

Carly: I can’t take on the blame for how johno is

Moses: Whatever, I don’t care about that prick, he just wants me away for his own gain

Carly: nor do I

Carly: youre not to go are u?

Moses: I might

Moses: Why?

Carly: id miss you, everyone would, but me the most

Moses: Would you now

Carly: now more than ever before

Moses: You really do have a one-track mind

Carly: hows my mind to be on something else when I can still feel everything you did to me?

Moses: I wouldn’t blame you, that’s why women don’t work, you can’t put it aside to do what has to be done

Carly: I can’t walk to get your 🧊🥃🍋 crawling’s still the limit of it

Moses: If you come anywhere near my van, it’s all going to kick off again, you know that

Carly: ill drag myself off site for you idc if it hurts

Moses: Why don’t you take that 🧊 and use it for yourself, sounds like you’re in need

Carly: [be extra af with said ice in every possible manner and send him the evidence of it, obvs]

Moses: looks sore

Carly: you won both your 💪🥊🤕s ive taken more knocks than you

Moses: And you deserve every one

Carly: you deserve the 💪👑

Carly: hes older than you but you still bested him in front of everyone he should be the lad away

Moses: He’s not going to leave the younger ones under my bad influence, like I want to control their every move like he does 🙄

Carly: he knows they look up to u more how everyone likes you more

Moses: Laying it on with a trowel now, [her mum] tell you to do that too?

Carly: sorry its true 💙🔮

Moses: You’re still blatant is true

Carly: hes scary I told you, you’re nicer

Moses: What if that’s just ‘cos I’ve got inside your knickers

Carly: k but youre not just nicer to me like

Moses: He isn’t that bad

Carly: none of yous are bad

Moses: I don’t reckon you’re going to shop us when I’m done with you, don’t worry

Carly: you can trust me how I said

Moses: and no one would you, you’ve said plenty how bad you want it already so

Moses: I’m not paranoid about it like him

Carly: yea & I’ll keep on saying til youre done w me

Moses: you should show me some more

Carly: [obviously do because even if your mum is around that isn’t stopping you, we know]

Moses: That what you’ve been doing all day?

Carly: it is 🥺🌊💦 missing u is my full time work now

Moses: You’re welcome, what else were you up to before

Carly: you do make me feel welcome

Moses: Maybe if you wait ‘til it’s dark to crawl out to find me

Carly: but summer dark takes forever

Moses: yeah, so you’ll be desperate and I can do what I want to you

Carly: please 🥺🌊😢💦😭

Carly: I am desperate & u can

Moses: Do you want me to get in more trouble?

Carly: no but you wouldn’t cos youre no dope

Moses: It was your fault we got caught, wasn’t it

Carly: I’m sorry but you don’t need to wait to make me sorrier

Moses: I’ll tell you where I’ve parked when I have

Carly: see, said you was nicest 💙

Moses: too fucking nice but I want it so you’re welcome again, nightmare

Carly: you can dream about this instead, boy

Moses: I’ll never call you a dream girl

Carly: its k I know what I am

Moses: it’s why I like you

Carly: u like me?

Moses: I can hear the 🥺 from here, Carls

Carly: you said it like

Carly: im only trying not to fall off my bed about it

Moses: You’re just so needy

Carly: I need you

Carly: you’re so unreal 💫💙💦🌊💙☄️💙🌠🌌💙

Moses: There’s still plenty more for me to show you

Carly: oh now I’m only trying not to lose my voice about that

Moses: It’ll keep you quieter if you do, can only help

Carly: you can keep me quiet if its what you want 😶✋

Moses: I might

Carly: how long can u stay?

Moses: I don’t need long, looks of you

Carly: I’ll make you want it though

Moses: will you now

Carly: yea, good time for a long time

Moses: See how long you can take it

Carly: no need to be careful no more ❤️💜💙

Moses: You’re not broken in yet

Carly: you can’t break me we fit too good together

Moses: You’d like it, anything I do

Carly: but I still let you do it even if I didnt

Carly: I like you that much

Moses: I know you do, that’s why I’ll keep you for a bit longer

Carly: I’m crying

Moses: What, why?

Carly: cos you are too nice 

Moses: well calm down and I’ll start being nasty to you, dope

Carly: I did reckon youd be 😡🤬 @ me

Moses: Meh, I try not to take life too serious

Carly: why everyone likes u

Moses: Not John boy

Carly: he hates me not you

Carly: knows you can do loads better

Moses: It isn’t like we’re getting hitched

Moses: he’ll calm down, come ‘round once I go do some hard graft

Carly: you can tell it were only once I won’t say different

Moses: I don’t plan on saying anything, nor getting caught again, it’ll be done then, no more to say or do

Carly: sure, you’ll be grand

Moses: go on, what did you say to Ali then

Carly: she asked what it was like & I told her

Moses: That’s cute

Carly: she’s always cute so

Moses: She a virgin?

Carly: yea for now

Carly: she’s her eye on someone but she didnt say who & I wouldnt be telling u if she had said

Moses: She didn’t say who ‘cos it’s me, obviously

Carly: 😅 to be sure she’d have said if it were you, we’d be after sharing you now

Moses: for her first time, I doubt that

Carly: its someone who dont like her she said & we know u do

Moses: Bless 💔

Moses: It’s not like she’s left with no options

Carly: she’ll get what she wants, she’s got the magic of that

Moses: Ro will follow her about like a dog, that’s for sure

Carly: its sweet hes so taken 😍💋🥰💞😘💓

Moses: You would say that

Carly: ah I did there look ⬆️

Moses: he’s young, he’ll learn

Carly: 👶❤️

Moses: Lasses will walk all over you if you let them

Carly: maybe he’s into getting walked over w 👠👠

Moses: He’s not a deviant, God 

Carly: I said nothing about him putting em on himself

Carly: different lads like different things off girls

Moses: yeah and only homos who are in denial like that sort of thing

Carly: idk any gay lads in denial, I cant be asking

Moses: Why are we talking about this?

Carly: cos youve not parked up nowhere yet

Moses: Leave us alone ‘til I have then, messer

Carly: k 👋💙

Carly: [but then immediately send him an extra af pic or whatever as a bye to contradict that lol]

Moses: Fuck

Carly: yea, we should

Moses: give it 10 before you leave and then come [wherever he has parked up, clearly not far but far enough]

Carly: keep telling me what to do when I have

Moses: you need telling

Carly: I need it bad

Carly: everything youre about to do

Moses: You only have to look at you to know

Carly: you have to look at me 👀💙🌊🌌 please

Moses: Keep giving us plenty to look at

Carly: [give him some final content before you have to start making a move to get ready aka dressed so you can leave and walk however far away he is]

Moses: there’s a girl

Carly: a girl you like 😁☁️😵‍💫

Moses: I like you very very much right now

Carly: oh now 🥺 I can float your way off that

Moses: come on then

Carly: how you cant wait for nothing is my fave thing about u

Moses: It’s your fault, teasing all the time

Carly: so dont even let me get in the car proper

Carly: just give me everything right then

Moses: I’ll have you in the boot, throw you in after, go for a ride

Carly: I’d love that

Moses: I know you would

Carly: where you taking us?

Moses: If you were to know, you wouldn’t be in the boot

Carly: I knew youd b full of surprises ✨💥⚡️🎈🎉🎀🎊

Moses: Keeps life interesting I find

Carly: I’m finding youre more than unreal

Moses: You’re not bad yourself

Carly: I wish we could do this forever

Moses: Enjoy the now, the future doesn’t exist

Carly: I enjoy you so much, my god

Moses: get here and enjoy me

Carly: [do shh until you show up because you would’ve run the rest of the way as soon as he sent that you highkey bitch, god bless]

[lunapaper]

Album Review: 'Being Funny in a Foreign Language' - The 1975

Is it time to complain about another 1975 album already?  

With moody album art and a piano-laden opening track, you’d be under the impression that Being Funny in a Foreign Language was marking a shift towards more dramatic fare or that it expands on the bloated self-indulgence of Notes on a Conditional Form and 2020’s A Brief Enquiry into Online Relationships. But instead, we get a general rehash of the glossy 80s sophistipop of earlier eras. 

The glassy pop funk of ‘Happiness’ recalls the bubbly California vibes of ‘Girls’ and ‘She’s American.’ The sweeping lounge jazz of ‘All I Need is You’ is eerily reminiscent of ‘If I Believe You.’ ‘When We Are Together’ has an earnest country-folk bent similar to ‘The Birthday Party,’ while ‘Oh Caroline’ echoes the shimmering coastal pop of ‘Settle Down’ off the band’s 2013 debut (one of their best tracks). Even the sax solos return with a vengeance, to the point of distraction. 

The second half of Being Funny in a Foreign Language feels particularly gloopy and saccharine.  

‘'Cause I don't need music in my ears/I don't need the crowds and the cheers/Oh, just tell me you love me/'Cause that's all that I need to hear,’ Healy cries on ‘All I Need to Hear,’ sitting alone in his kitchen utterly bereft with no food in the fridge. On ‘About You,’ he muses like a lovesick schoolboy, ‘I know a place/It's somewhere I go when I need to remember your face/We get married in our heads/Something to do while we try to recall how we met.’ ‘Wintering’ is destined to soundtrack a Netflix Christmas original, mark my words. Healy even manages to out-Healy himself with lines like: ‘Alex is a sculptor and Olivia’s been a vegan since 10/Vin wears dresses whilst Debbie coalesces in a fleece that doesn’t work.’ 

Parklife? ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ 

Sometimes the lyrics are just downright lazy. Healy even admits as such (‘I’ve tried to find another name a thousand times/But the only one that rhymes is ‘Oh Caroline’). 

‘I’m in Love with You,’ meanwhile, is cloying with its jangling guitars, ear-bleeding chorus and copious amount of shimmer (Dear God, this record has so much fucking shimmer). It’s doesn’t even sound particularly romantic: Healy appears dismissive at times to now-ex girlfriend FKA twigs, especially when it comes to some ‘black girl thing’ she’s doing. 

I get that he ends up apologising to her. But why put it in in the first place? I’ve said it time and time again, but if it was any other male artist, they would’ve been cancelled into oblivion for such a line, especially in this current climate. Even Harry would’ve copped a lot of shit, but he’d don a sparkly hat or something, and all would be forgiven. Healy, for some reason, always seems to survive the scrutiny, no matter how loud it gets online. Why is he so special?? 

Though he does reminisce with a girlfriend on final track ‘When We Were Together’ about the time they were both cancelled on the same day – him for being a ‘racist’ and her for being a ‘slag.’ But all Healy probably got was an angry Reddit thread and a few hundred tweets, so I’m sure he got off easy in the end... 

He also admits to gaslighting her (‘I didn't know that it had its own word’). Again, if it were anyone else, blah blah blah, is anyone even listening at this point? 

First single, ‘Part of the Band’ fulfils the Healy pseudo-intellectual nonsense quota, even if it is just a weak facsimile of their other zeitgeisty tracks like ‘PEOPLE’ and ‘Love It If We Made It.’ Earnest strums and disjointed orchestral tones provide a backdrop to the singer’s self-indulgent musings, cramming in every political talking point of the past couple of years in some vain attempt to provoke:  

‘I know some vaccinista tote bag chic baristas  Sitting in east on their communista keisters  Writing about their ejaculations  “I like my men like I like my coffee  Full of soy milk and so sweet, it won’t offend anybody”  Whilst staining the pages of The Nation.’ 

It’s total parody at this point. And yes, Stereogum, I am doing the jackoff motion with my hand. 

Then there’s ‘(Looking for) Somebody to Love,’ giving an incel school shooter fantasy a bouncy John Hughes-esque soundtrack. I’m not averse to deceptively poppy songs dealing with dark subject matter, but it’s got nothing on the eerie apathy of ‘Pumped Up Kicks.’  

When ‘Part of the Band’ was released last July, it seemed to confirm to even some of their most ardent fans that The 1975 aren’t quite as fascinating as we’ve been led us to believe over the years, and Being Funny in a Foreign Language only further proves it. Healy, as usual, is more preoccupied with buzzwords, cliches, and getting a rise out of people than putting any real emotional weight onto his words, while the production is strangely flat and tinny. Not even having Grammy Producer of the Year Jack Antonoff on board seems to make much of a difference. 

Being Funny in a Foreign Language was seemingly received with rather little fanfare. Singles came and went without a trace. Even four months on from its release, there’s more news devoted to Healy’s controversies than to the album itself. 

At least Notes on a Conditional Form had a bit of ambition and some variety (as messy as it was), along with a totally undeserved air of self-importance. But this? This... is just another 1975 record.  

And that’s the worst thing a 1975 record can possibly be: Boring. Even after (mostly) rejecting computers in favour of jam sessions, all they could manage to produce a bunch of mostly forgettable mid-tempo songs that sound a lot like their older ones. In the space of just a couple of years, the band has gone from pompous pop provocateurs to just plain dull.  

Like, what the fuck am I supposed to make fun of now?? 

- Bianca B.