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morallyinept · 17 days

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Adrift With You - A Frankie Morales Series - Chapter 13

Summary: Heading away on a work re-location, Frankie embarks on a flight, but unbeknownst to him, his life is about to change forever. For starters, he will need to fight for it; harder than he's ever fought for anything else before.

Marooned on an isolated island in the middle of the ocean, still recovering from an addiction, his chances of survival are bleak; but he’s not alone on the island, and soon he’s running towards a different kind of life - a life with fellow survivor, Jude, fighting right beside him every step of the way.

And if they can both survive the island together, they can survive anything, right?

Pairing: Frankie Morales x OFC Jude

Chapter word count: 7.3k

SERIES MASTERLIST | MAIN MASTERLIST

☝🏻See Series Masterlist for full smut warnings & triggers in this story. Chapters that contain smut or triggers will be highlighted in the chapter notes below. 👇🏻

Chapter notes: Frankie and Jude are tested to their absolute limit. Mentions of smut.

Enjoy! 🖤

Chapter 12

The pen runs out of ink on the fourteenth of April.

Frankie looks down at the notebook as his scrawl becomes nothing but faint indents on the paper. He shakes the pen in frustration, but it’s no use. His writing days are over now.

They’ve been on the island for almost a whole year. Surviving, barely, on fish - and now tamarind - and rain water.

Jude would make a pulpy sweet mush of the tamarind to flavour the fish, and it jazzed up the cooking for a while. But soon, like the fish, eating the tamarind soon lost its sweet taste on their tongues.

The school of fish had dwindled dangerously for a while, but soon more began to appear in the bay as the weather shifted. The rainy season seemed to end and the scorching sun was back with a vengeance.

One day whilst they were fishing, Frankie continued to scout around the rock pools and found a few mussels - and was careful not to step on any urchins this time - as he pried them off the rocks with the completely dull switchblade.

He proceeded to explain to Jude in great detail about all the tasty ways you can cook mussels; rambling on excitedly like a five year-old who won’t shut the fuck up about dinosaurs, and it made her smile fondly at him to see him smile about something again.

They ate the mussels from their shells, steaming them in the tin over the fire and that seemed like a treat, something different which revitalised their spirits for a little while.

But still they continued to appear more gaunt, often going days without eating at all, not because they didn’t have any food - what with the tamarind pods filling up a suitcase that they’d taken out as Frankie climbed the trees and shook them loose onto the ground for Jude to collect - but because when you eat the same thing over and over, you soon begin to lose your appetite for it.

“If we ever get off this island, I’m never eating fish or tamarind again.” Jude remarks one evening as they’re sitting by the fire outside together.

Frankie has his arm slung over her shoulder and is twirling his fingers idly in the sand beside him, drawing squiggly lines absentmindedly.

“I second that.” He smirks. “I think I might just live off of Mcdonalds for a month or something. Get a bit fat.”

“Mm. I can see you with chubby cheeks and wearing sweatpants with your gut out, shovelling burgers in your mouth. Hot.” Jude giggles.

“Living the dream,” he agrees. She feels his chest heave as he chuckles.

“Do you think they had a funeral for us?” Jude asks a little time later, and the question winds Frankie; he stops drawing in the sand.

He wraps his arm around her tighter and kisses the top of her head.

“I think they probably did.” He admits, trying not to think about it, admittedly.

“What do you think they would’ve said about you?”

“Hopefully good things, but I doubt it." He says, sadly.

“Of course they did. You’re a good person.”

“Here, maybe. But I’ve done a lot of shit I’m not proud of. Even before the coke.” He kisses her head again and rests his chin on it, staring out into the flames. Thinking about all the mistakes.

“I miss my mom so much.” Jude whispers.

“Me too, I miss all of ‘em. Everyone.” Frankie confirms.

He thinks about his family and the guys. Their faces flit behind his eyes. He even thinks about Carla a little too; wondering if she’d attended his funeral. He considers if she’d stood up and read from anything, or said anything heartfelt and cried with black mascara tears streaming down her face. Whether she’s mourning the loss of him and wishing things had been different.

His chest feels tight at all of the murky recall.

Jude feels him sigh out and cuddles into him further. “You okay?”

“Yeah. Just thinking is all.” Frankie assures.

“I know, I can hear the cogs turning.”

His fingers jab, tickling into her side and she flinches, laughing.

“I’m alright. Just comes in waves, y’know?” He explains.

“I know. When I think about it, it’s like I can’t breathe. I can’t imagine their pain. Not knowing what happened to us; that we’re right here, waiting.”

“Yeah.” Frankie nods.

Jude reaches for his hand and interlocks his fingers, squeezing them tightly inside her own. “We have each other though, right?”

“Right,” Frankie nods to her as she looks up at him.

She kisses him, lingering on his lips and breathing him in. He kisses her, his beard scratching against her lips and it makes her giggle.

“You’re so fuckin’ beautiful, you know that?” Frankie says.

“No. You don’t tell me nearly enough.” She grins.

“C’mere,” he says, pulling her in and squeezing her hips and she laughs.

They spend time curled up together by the fire as it gets dark and she hears Frankie yawn.

“You feeling sleepy?” Jude asks him and he nods, those eyes of his looking a little droopy.

“Let’s go to bed,” she smiles at him and stands up. As she does so, she stumbles backwards a little unsteady on her feet.

“Dizzy?” Frankie asks her, steadying her with a hand on her back and one on her stomach.

“Yeah. I’m okay.” She pats his hand and begins walking towards the shack with his arm around her.

Jude rolls over on the cushion bed a few days later and watches Frankie as he sleeps through her fuzzy vision coming into focus, rubbing crusted sleep from her eyes.

She notices small beads of perspiration on his forehead like diamonds glittering in the sunlight streaming in through the window hole, and watches as his eyes dance crazily back and forth under his eyelids.

He flinches a little and groans as he dreams.

She places her hand on his chest, feeling his heartbeat thrumming inside it. His skin is boiling to the touch and she sits up, a little concerned.

“Frankie...” She whispers close to his ear and he stirs, groaning. “Frankie, wake up. You’re having a bad dream.”

He opens his eyes slowly and turns his head towards her; focusing in on her face as she wipes at his forehead that seems utterly drenched.

“Hey,” she greets him and he blinks several times before smiling, then frowning.

“Fuck, my head is hammering,” Frankie reaches up and runs his hand over the top of his skull with his thick fingers.

“Are you feeling alright, you’re pretty hot?” Jude touches his skin around his scarred neck. “Having a sexy dream, were you?” She snickers.

“Pornographic.” Frankie smirks.

He sits up slowly and the shack begins to spin. “Fuck.” He slumps back down on the bed and Jude fetches him some water.

“Here, drink this.” She unscrews the cap and he glugs quickly from the bottle feeling incredibly parched.

“How much do we have left?” He gasps as though the thirst will never be satiated.

“Enough, just drink it.” She encourages, touching over his head and feeling how hot he is. “You’re burning up. Just stay in bed today, you need the rest, okay?”

Frankie nods and flops back down on the bed grunting.

“I’ll go catch us some fish, you need to eat something. I know you haven’t been.” Jude says, narrowing her eyes at him.

He smiles faintly at her through purplish-pink lips. He runs his pointer finger around the top of his head in a circle indicating there’s a halo there, and she smirks with a little unimpressed snort.

“Take my cap, it's hot out.” He says, tossing his cap at her and she plonks it on her head.

Jude leaves him to sleep off what is probably chronic exhaustion and hunger, and heads to the bay to fish.

The water is mostly still as Jude wades around the rock pools, watching the fish and spearing them.

She catches several and smiles as they fill the tin; a sight she hasn’t seen for a long time. She glances up to see the empty shell of the fuselage on the sandbank still, ageing with an early birthing of speckled rust as the sun scorches it daily.

Her mind wanders back to the harrowing moments of the plane crash, a memory etched into her consciousness like a scar on her soul.

The cabin engulfed in chaos as the plane shuddered and lurched through the turbulent skies. Panic-stricken passengers clinging to their seats, their faces contorted in fear as the realisation of their impending doom washes over them like a tidal wave.

Jude can feel her heart pounding in her chest, each beat a thunderous drumming in her ears as she braces herself for the inevitable impact, but it goes dark, just like it did when she blacked out.

She looks out at the horizon, thinking about the impending anniversary of them both being on the island for three hundred and sixty-five days, and all that they’ve accomplished and endured on this piece of shitty rock they’re still marooned on.

She feels a tickle around her thighs and looks down, freezing instantly.

It’s a small shark in the water, barely longer than her arm in length, swimming around her legs curiously and she smiles widely as she aims her spear.

Jude heads back to the shack with the tin of fish and slimy shark corpse. She approaches the fire, tossing more kindling on it, encouraging the flames to grow once more ready for their meal, and goes to check on Frankie.

She enters under the plastic sheet. “Hey, guess what I caught in the bay, it’s a-”

She stops dead in her tracks when she sees Frankie on the ground, laying on his front, vomit all around his face and a red blotchy rash covering his back and arms.

“Frankie!” Jude lurches forward and shakes him; he’s unresponsive and she immediately sticks her fingers into his mouth, clearing away the vomit.

“Frankie! Wake up! Frankie!” She shakes him again and he groans with a choked gurgle.

“Oh, thank God! Frankie, can you hear me?” She pulls back his eyelid with her thumb and his eyes are rolled into the back of his head.

She pours water from a bottle over his chin, rinsing away his vomit from around his mouth, and then uses her wet hand to touch his forehead that still feels aflame.

“Frankie!” Jude calls out to him again, shaking him and once more he groans.

He’s alive, but she’s completely panic stricken. His breathing is shallow and laboured, his pulse weak and thready beneath her touch.

A wave of dread washes over Jude as she realises the gravity of the situation. He's sick. He's sick on an island without a doctor or any meds.

She strips him of his clothes; his body is saturated with sweat, and the heat radiating off of it feels like the sun’s corona burning her fingertips.

The rash is all over his torso, in and around his groin in patches of red lichen-like blotches which look mean and an angry red.

She hooks her arms under his armpits and drags him towards the bed, groaning out at the weight of him.

Despite his drastic weight loss, he’s still heavy. Jude lugs him backwards more until she’s able to roll him onto the bed. She turns him over into the recovery position, tilting his head up so he doesn't swallow his tongue.

She dabs away vomit chunks from Frankie’s beard and washes him down with sea water she collects, trying to cool his body temperature.

Jude spends the next two days by his side, periodically pouring water down his throat as he drifts in and out of a heavy consciousness.

“Wake up, Frankie, please.”

But Frankie remains stubbornly unconscious, his features slack and pale against the crimson blotches. He’s sick several more times, and when there’s blood in it, she freaks.

“Frankie, stay with me,” Jude pleads to him as he passes out again; the water dribbling from his lips.

She doesn’t sleep. She never got to cook the fish or the shark.

Instead it stays untouched outside on the beach, slowly rotting in the sun.

Dengue fever isn’t pleasant.

Of course, at the time neither Jude nor Frankie knew that’s what he had.

It’s caused by mosquito bites, and only a few days prior to falling ill, Frankie had been bitten by one that was infected as he fished in the bay.

He’d slapped the pest dead against his arm and didn’t think much of it. He’d been bitten around the ankles by horseflies in the grasses and all sorts of bugs since being on the island - just another pest taking a bite out of his tasty skin.

But it was as simple as that - a simple, little bite.

Ordinarily, if he’d been fully healthy, the effects of the fever wouldn’t have maimed him as much. But we all know that from his current state of malnourishment and dehydration, he wasn’t strong enough, and his immune system struggled to suppress the infection.

It had already begun to spread through his body and started laying down the foundations of the attack.

The signs were there; hot flushes, stomach cramps and vomiting. But yet he’d been doing that on the regular, so what was there to notice differently, really?

Frankie had caught an abundance of fish; nine in total, before the school figured out their numbers were dwindling before their eyes, and scooted off into the deep again from whence they came.

He’d cooked them all over the fire and mashed more tamarind with it, and they’d feasted like kings that evening, filling their bellies up until they felt like they would pop uncomfortably.

They sat opposite one another, eating and playing another game of Tic-Tac-Toe in the sand and talking like they usually would.

Frankie had the hiccups; probably from eating too fast he assumed at the time, and the little belches that rolled out of him had made Jude giggle.

“Where did you get that scar on your hip?” She’d asked him randomly, as he placed down a shell in the middle box of the hand drawn grid in the sand.

“I was shot.” Frankie’s mind casts back to the helicopter crash and the feel of the bullet ripping through his skin.

“Jesus.”

“Yeah.” He’d hiccupped again, keeping his mouth closed.

“You were shot at a lot, weren’t you?” She placed her pebble down.

“Nine times.” He holds his wrist up at her with the numbers tattoo.

“I couldn’t imagine that.” She said, scrunching up her face.

“I shot back, too. Thirty-nine confirmed kills.” He was concentrating on the grid and looking carefully at where to place his next shell, when his shoulders heaved again from another rolling hiccup.

“You got any scars, aside from the crippling emotional ones?” Frankie had questioned and she’d tossed one of her pebbles at him. He whinnied as it landed in his lap.

“A few,” she’d drawn her leg up and caught sight of the pink, ragged scar on the back of her calf, probably the most prominent one now to adorn her body.

“I have this one,” Jude had said, turning her face to the right and pointing just under the top of her cheekbone. A small, faded circle was there, indented into her flesh.

“I wondered about that one. It looks like someone hole-punched your face,” Frankie marvelled.

He hiccupped again and put his hand over his mouth tasting bile in the back of his throat.

“No, it was chicken pox. My mom says I kept scratching it and scratching it, and now I have a scar there.” She shrugged.

“My brother and I got the pox at the same time. It was fuckin’ carnage in our house when our cousins got it too. My pop just threw us all out in the garden in the pool and let us get on with it.” Frankie smiled, putting down another shell, and she’d blocked him making a complete line with another pebble.

She watched as his face changed; a sudden look of widening eyes and a serious mouth as he looked across at her.

“What?” She questioned him curiously.

Frankie promptly stood up and dashed off over towards the tree line.

Once there, he threw up; barely making it to the ground on his knees before it flooded out of him.

He pulled off his t-shirt and wiped his mouth with it, looking disgusted at the lumpy swill of barely digested fish. He groaned out as he felt it rise up again in the back of his throat and he bent forward heaving it all out.

“Hey, you okay?” Jude asked him, approaching and rubbing his back as he’d sat upright on his knees, the pile of fish and tamarind mixed puke visible in front of them.

“I’m fine. Except everything comes out of my body in liquid form now,” Frankie winced, gripping his stomach and spitting onto the ground.

“Too much fish?” Jude asked him tenderly as he stood up.

He nodded. “Maybe, I dunno. Probably.” He scrunched the t-shirt up in his hand.

“Come on,” she had said sympathetically, putting her arm around his waist and walking with him slowly back to the fire.

Four days later and he’s drifting in and out of consciousness; dreaming of nothing but black feverish voids as he burns up and his body gives birth to a ferocious rash that prickles at his already scorched skin.

Jude dips a t-shirt into the tin of sea water and wrings it out on the third day that Frankie remains hardly responsive.

She dabs at his chest and shoulders, giving him a tiresome bed bath to cool him off, titling his head back and tipping rain water into his mouth in the small instances when he’ll come to.

She occasionally dozes off for a few moments beside him, absolutely shattered.

She’ll suddenly jolt awake when he groans out or throws up again, and the longer he remains like this, the more fearful she becomes that he’ll actually die.

“Don’t you fucking dare die on me. You hear me, Frankie.” Jude warns him as she watches him just lying there, occasionally grunting in pain.

She hovers her fingers under his nostrils to feel for any air flowing out of them when she’s staring at his chest, convinced she can’t see it rising and falling like it should be, and working herself up all over again.

She picks up his hand and kisses it, holding it close to her lips and feeling utterly helpless and terrified.

With each shallow breath that escapes Frankie's mouth, Jude's heart clenches with a sense of impending doom, the fear of losing him clawing at her chest like a ravenous beast.

She can't bear the thought of him slipping away from her, of being left alone in this desolate wilderness with nothing but memories of what could have been.

There’s no way she can get through this without him; she’s resolute in that fact. It’s thanks to him that she’s even made it this far; the swamping loneliness on the island would have driven her insane during the first few weeks alone.

With him here, grinning at her moronically through mouthfuls of fish to make her laugh, or showing her how to light the fire; rubbing the small of her back when she sleeps in his arms, are the moments that make life bearable on the island - make it seem normal somehow in their routine.

The island is him - it’s Frankie.

A whole year almost of just being in his personal space and learning about his life previously makes facing each day worthwhile, something to look forward to. And to take that from her now would be cruel.

She knows if he slips away she’ll undoubtedly follow. A life without him on the island isn’t a life she wants to live through. She’s confident in that thought, as harrowing and scary as it is to consider.

It would drive you mad, a year in this place, all alone. Loneliness is an acute disease; people die of loneliness all the time.

Have you ever heard about those stories of an elderly couple being married for years and years, and when one of them sadly passes on, the other physically can’t live without them and passes away not too soon after, dying of a broken heart? Yeah, that.

You give up; you don’t want to face the world alone without them, because you simply know you can’t.

Imagine wandering the shoreline without anyone to talk to out loud, no-one to share your fears or worries with or talk them through rationally when they try to overcome you and drown you like the ocean’s waves.

No-one to calm you down when the sheer terror will rattle through your bones convincing you that you’re going to die out here.

No-one looking into your eyes with their warm cocoa ones and telling you to breathe deeply and try again, with an encouraging smile beaming out at you from under a navy Standard Heating Oil baseball cap.

No-one to hold you in his strong, broad arms and tell you stories about his life, his hopes, wishes and dreams as you listen to the music of his body; twirling your fingers around the curly hair at the nape of his neck that has grown longer as the days had worn on.

It doesn’t bear thinking about, right?

Frankie was a stranger once; just another passenger on a plane headed for a final destination into carnage, but now he’s the better half of Jude - the stronger one, her protector.

The one to get her through, the one who had seen every single side of her, including the vulnerable, the weak and the damn right acutely terrified.

He’d seen all the ugly parts of her when no-one else had seen them before, and yet he still scooped her up in his arms and told her she was strong, brave and beautiful.

It dawns on her that if he actually dies, if he is to slip away right now from her on this thin thread of a hard life they’ve been walking on for some time now, she’ll never recover from the loss.

Because he’s everything; he’s saved her, without a shadow of a doubt, and in more ways than one.

I love him. I fucking love him.

Jude’s dabbing him with the wet t-shirt again around his neck, looking closely at the faint, pink scars on his skin from when he was burned by the aviation fuel in the water, when Frankie reaches for her hand.

She looks up at his face, his eyes bloodshot and blinking at her through heavy, tired lids.

She scrambles up closer to his face and strokes through his wiry hair, her eyes filling with water.

“Hey,” she says, and kisses the top of his head in relief. Thank God.

“Why you crying?” Frankie croaks out through a constricted throat.

“Because of you, you dummy.” Jude reaches for the water and tilts the bottle towards him so he can drink. “I think you caught a fever or something. You had a rash and passed out. You’ve been out for days.” Jude rubs away the water that drips from his mouth and glistens in his beard, over-spilling.

“What?” Frankie coughs. He tries to sit upright on the bed.

“Slowly,” she urges.

“I passed out?” Frankie asks her, a little confused, rubbing his eyes.

“Yeah.” She wipes her own eyes as he lifts his fingers to them and smears away a tear or two.

For a moment, Frankie seems disoriented, his gaze searching hers as though trying to make sense of the world around him.

But then, as the fog begins to lift and clarity returns, a small smile tugs at the corners of his lips - a silent reassurance that speaks volumes without a word being said.

“How are you feeling?”

“My head is still fuckin’ throbbing,” he says with eyes like he’s squinting.

Jude places the wet t-shirt on his head as a cool compress for him. “I caught a shark.” She smirks as he closes his eyes in relief of the compress.

“I knew you were badass,” Frankie smiles.

“It was a bay shark, kinda small. I couldn’t cook it; it’s probably no good now.”

“That sucks.” Frankie remarks with a faint smile through his cracked lips. He can taste blood on them and the stench of vomit lingers in his nostrils.

She leans forward and kisses his forehead. Most of the rash has disappeared from his body except around his legs where it’s still fading. His palms and ankles are a little puffy and swollen and he looks pretty out of it still.

Jude's eyes shine with tears as she reaches out to grasp his hand, her fingers trembling with emotion.

"Thank God you're okay," she murmurs, her voice thick with emotion. "I was so scared..."

“You look tired,” he observes, pulling on her braid gently.

“I didn’t sleep much for the last three days.” She smiles faintly, blinking and her eyes feel incredibly irritated, despite the tears now falling out of them.

“Come here, hermosa,” Frankie encourages, holding out his arms and she shuffles into them. He wraps her in tight and he feels much cooler to the touch.

He kisses the top of her head several times and squeezes her, a silent reassurance that he’s still with her, that they’ve weathered yet another storm together.

“I thought you were gonna die” she peeps timidly, her voice breaking.

“No. You don’t get rid of me that easily,” Frankie breathes into her hair, his throat feeling tight and raw.

Jude looks up at him and he leans in for a kiss, but she baulks as she can smell vomit on his breath.

“Maybe wash your mouth out first,” she laughs, wiping her eyes.

“Fuck that.” Frankie pulls her face towards him and kisses her, smiling.

They both sleep for what feels like a hundred years.

Frankie is stroking her face as she sleeps in his arms. Her rhythmic breathing is a soothing melody in the otherwise quiet dawn, a reminder of the fragility of their existence on the deserted island.

The idea of Jude navigating the challenges of survival without him fills him with a sense of guilt, a pang of regret for the moments he had been unconscious, unaware of her struggles.

He can't bear the thought of her facing the dangers of the island alone, her resilience and strength a testament to her unwavering determination to survive.

And yet, as he gazes down at her peaceful expression, a sense of gratitude washes over him - a deep-seated appreciation for her unwavering faith in him, her steadfast belief that they’ll overcome whatever obstacles lay in their path, together.

And he believes it too, knowing that with Jude by his side, he's the strongest he's ever been in his life.

With a soft sigh, Frankie presses a tender kiss to the top of Jude's head, his heart heavy with the weight of his own fears and insecurities, but they’re muted for a while longer as he lies with her.

She wakes a little while later and it’s barely light out.

“How are you feeling?” Jude asks him through a stifled yawn.

“Better.” His stomach rumbles and they chuckle together. “Hungry.”

“You feel up to going fishing today? Might find another shark.” She asks with a small birth of hope in her voice.

“Yeah. I’ll give it a go.” He nods and kisses her forehead again.

Frankie sits up slowly and takes his time standing fully upright on his legs that feel weak and like they don’t belong to him.

“I need a wash first though, I stink.” He says, getting a whiff of himself.

“Yeah. You’re a bit ripe.” Jude laughs, wrinkling her nose.

She takes him by the hand and leads him slowly down towards the shore, stopping by the cave mouth to pick up the remaining soap and shampoo. He looks at her expression and shrugs as she explains that it’s the last of it.

“Well, it was a nice luxury whilst we had it,” Frankie remarks casually.

They wade into the sea and he dips under the water and resurfaces, running his hands over his face, water dripping from his beard that’s longer and more coarse.

Jude squirts some of the shower gel into her palm. He holds his out and she squirts the last of it into his hands in a bubbly dollop, and watches as he rubs them together making a creamy lather.

Smirking, Frankie runs his hands across her chest, massaging the soap into her breasts, and stopping momentarily to feel her nipples harden under his palms.

She leans in, kissing him and tasting salt on his lips. She runs her soapy hands through his hair, scratching through it as she works the lather and makes him groan out in a satisfied grunt.

“I like it when you make that noise...” She breathes, smiling as he opens his eyes and looks back at her.

“I like the noises you make, too.” He grins.

Jude presses up against his chest; her breasts crushed tight against him as he kisses her with some sudden uncontrollable urgency. His tongue darts into her mouth and his hands paw at her ass.

She reaches down into the water and finds his cock, hard and rigid. He grunts out into her lips as his fingers swim up inside her pussy, and makes her gasp out too as his thumb brushes against her clit.

“Fuck me...” Frankie whines into her mouth enticingly as she pumps him.

“You should really take it easy,” she says around his lips, unable to resist that pull of him as his fingers slide in and out of her.

He shakes his head. “Fuck me, Jude.” Frankie whines again, smirking with glittery eyes.

She bites down on his lip making him hiss. He lifts her up onto him; the soft, bounding waves keep her buoyant as she wraps her legs around his waist.

Jude cries out as she feels him slide into her, making him grunt in unison.

He holds onto her ass cheeks as he rocks his hips back and forth in the water, fucking her deep and with intense strokes.

“You feel so good,” she whines.

Jude clings on around his neck, crushing her lips to his and moaning out as she bounces up and down on his thick cock, with a little help from the waves in a deliciously intense rhythm.

“Fuck!” Frankie grunts out, gripping onto her ass tighter.

“Frankie!” She throws her head back as she comes hard and fast; her braid dipping into the water and he’s gasping out through his own rolling orgasm as he pumps out inside of her, shaking.

She holds onto him as they stop moving, feeling his cock slide out of her, and he kisses her again.

They chuckle, and she watches as he dives under the water, rinsing the suds from his hair and swimming around her, poking her in the stomach or butt cheek from under the water.

Jude looks up at the sky, a huge weight of relief sliding off of her shoulders that had been wrought and tense for the last few days.

Thank you...

She’s running, but no matter how fast she runs, the helicopter is falling further and further out of sight, away from the island.

“Wait! Don’t leave me!”

Her voice is being swallowed up by the sound of the crashing tide rolling in beside her as she runs down the beach.

Jude can see Frankie inside the helicopter looking out at her; the wind flapping through his unruly locks, and waving back at her as he shrinks further and further into the horizon, until the helicopter disappears completely and Jude is left on the beachfront, falling to her knees in horrific disbelief.

No, NO!

She wakes up with a jolt; her heartbeat reverberating crazily inside her chest like it’s trying to escape.

She’s had this nightmare a few times since being on the island, but it seems more intense this time - more like it could be real and she’s waiting for it to happen where she won’t wake up, no matter how many times she pinches herself.

She finds Frankie crouched by the fire pit cooking a singular fish and turning it over on the flat stone.

Egon is perched beside him on the rock watching the fish sizzling intently; looking for a snatch-and-run opportunity.

Frankie scoops a piece of tamarind out of the tin he’s been mashing up and offers it out to Egon; the little monkey’s fingers curl around his own.

“That’s all you’re getting.” Frankie advises him.

He looks over his shoulder as Jude approaches. “Hey,” he croons to her with a sleepy smile.

“Morning, Captain Morales,” she yawns, planting a kiss on his crown before heading down to the shore for a swim to wake her up.

It’s been several weeks since Frankie suffered through his horrific fever, and although it seems as though he’s recovered well physically, mentally is another question.

He’s been a little quiet; withdrawn and reflective as she often catches him just staring into nothing.

Completely zoned out at the furthest reaches from her, until she’ll touch his hand and he’ll come back to her with a little startle and a faint smile to convince her that he’s okay.

She wonders what it is that he sees in that thousand yard stare.

She slips off her clothes that are like a tent on her now. She’s been reduced to just wearing the bikini bottoms and a t-shirt that swamps her as of late; the shorts and her jeans no longer stay up around her waist of their own volition and she’s tired of hanging onto them all the time.

Frankie wears a t-shirt, or a plaid woollen jacket on the days it’s a little chillier, and he often drapes it around her shoulders to keep her warm at night.

When it’s unbearably hot, he’s often fully naked and letting it all hang out and free, and it's a sight that admittedly, she won’t tire of.

The flip-flops have long since broken and so he walks on bare feet, the skin on his soles hard and dry.

Jude’s hair has grown so long that it almost touches her lower back and it seems almost daily that Frankie re-braids it for her after combing the knots out with his fingers as they sit by the fire or on the shore whilst he does it.

His own hair and beard is even shaggier now and grease slicked from sweat. The cap barely keeps its unruly mess at bay.

She’s noticed his weight loss increase further over the last few months, seeing the bony bulges of his spine now too when he hunches over the fire.

How his rib cage is showing under his skin and how sunken and sullen his face looks, more so than it ever had before. He’s so skinny it’s spooky.

It’s a harsh reality to confront that essentially they’re only just keeping full starvation at bay. She dreads to think what they'll do when the tamarind stops growing, or the fish stop coming into the bay altogether.

It gives her shivers to even venture down that route of dark, swirly thoughts that are like gnarled fingers reaching out for them and following them around, ready to snap them up at any given moment.

Jude wades into the water to cool her skin and notices the sky is a swirl of blue and grey. Clouds are forming on the horizon and the breeze contains a little nip, even through the heavy heat.

She swims around in the water, untying her braid and diving under to resurface again to wash her hair without shampoo as she scratches through her salty scalp with her fingers.

Frankie’s padding into the water, and she smiles warmly as he swims towards her and kisses her deeply.

She wraps her legs around his waist as he holds her whilst they bob in the water.

“I made some food. Fish and tamarind paste, my specialty.” Frankie smirks at her.

She clutches his chin with her thumb and finger and kisses him again.

“And maybe some monkey, because if Egon steals it I will actually gut him.”

“You love him really,” Jude smiles, patting his hairy cheek.

He dives under the waves and as he resurfaces, he clocks the panic stricken look morphing on Jude’s face as the water rinses out his ears.

“What?” He questions, frowning.

Then he feels it himself; the intense shaking and rocking of the seabed floor.

She plops backwards in the water as the heavy rumbling intensifies, knocking her off balance.

“Fuck!” Frankie swims to her as she resurfaces, wiping at her face and spluttering in shock.

“Holy shit, was that an earthquake?!” Jude exclaims to him as he hoists her up on her feet in the shifting water as the rumbles die out.

“We need to get outta the fuckin’ water!” Frankie presses to her with wide eyes.

“Wait,” she pulls him back, but he simply grabs at her hand, pulling her forward

“I’m serious, Jude. We need to get to high ground, quickly.” The panic is palpable in his voice. “That was a fuckin’ earthquake. We’re on an island in the middle of the ocean. A tsunami will be imminent. We have to get to high ground!” Frankie repeats to her, looking Jude dead in the eye.

He isn’t messing around.

Jude can feel her heartbeat crashing inside her chest as he says the words. “A-a tsunami?”

“Yeah, we have maybe fifteen minutes or so, maybe less.”

“How do you know that, it might not even happen?”

“Do you wanna take that chance? C’mon!” Frankie makes a dash for the shoreline and they run naked towards the shack.

She frantically pulls on clothes as does he inside of it.

“Here!” Frankie tosses her a life jacket; one of the two he’d kept rolled up all this time on the case beside the bed.

A warning sign; a deadly prediction from his gut thriving into fruition right under their noses all this time.

It only perplexes him how, at the time all those months ago when he’d made that decision not to cut these two life jackets up, that he would be right not to.

He hopes he’s wrong. Hopes that nothing will happen and that his overzealousness will be met with a rational calm later.

With trembling hands, his senses on high alert, he searches in his mind for the safest route to higher ground. Every second feels like an eternity as they stumble through the frantic chaos.

Jude unravels it and puts it over her head, fastening the ties, but not inflating it.

He nods at her as she glances at him as her hands work the ties in a blur, time seeming like it grinds to a complete halt as the looks they exchange terrify them both to their cores.

They both run out of the shack. Frankie looks out at the sea and it all seems calm and normal. No signs of any turbulent water, but they can’t take the chance and be caught unawares.

“Up to the ridge, go!” Frankie instructs.

They scramble up the hill towards the ridge; getting up there in half the time it usually takes them. Frankie’s pulling her by the arm, almost yanking it out the socket as they pelt up the hill as fast as they can muster.

They reach the top of the ridge and Frankie’s branch igloo is still there; as is the ugly shirt flag fluttering in the breeze. Jude puts her hands on her knees and breathes in heavily, staring out at the horizon, watching... waiting.

“What do we do?” She puffs.

“We wait. It’s all we can do.” Frankie confirms bleakly.

“It might not happen,” she murmurs, convincing herself.

“Almost after every earthquake at sea, there’s a tsunami that follows,” Frankie informs her, but it doesn’t make it any better.

His mind races with the memories of the devastating effects of tsunamis he’d witnessed during his time in the military, on search and rescue recon’s - the sheer power of the waves etched into his memory like a nightmare he can't shake.

“Are we up high enough?” Jude asks, fear gripping her.

He doesn’t answer, feeling the heavy breeze blow through his beard and watches as the wind whips around her hair, casting it about wildly like a sea monster with several hundred tentacles coming at him.

Frankie secures his own life jacket around his waist and then tugs on Jude’s to check its tightness. He undoes it and ties it again for her, and she feels him pull on it again afterwards to test it won’t come undone.

Frankie looks up at the flag shirt and reaches for it, tearing it down from the branch. She watches him rip through the fabric with ease.

He takes her right arm and wraps it around hers and then around his left one, effectively tying their two hands together.

She locks her fingers into his and he grips onto them tightly.

She can already feel the bind of the shirt cutting off her circulation, but it’s nothing compared to the sheer terror raging through her body right now.

And that's when she realises it. Realises how eerily quiet it’s suddenly become.

“Shit...” Frankie gasps looking over her head at the horizon, his eyes widening in fear.

He pulls her back towards him as she turns and sees the waves high in the sky in the distance.

All she can do is gulp at the sight of it hurtling towards the island.

Frankie tugs on the pull cord of her life jacket, the hiss pours out of it as it inflates around her chest and throat.

He does the same with his, but nothing happens.

Jude looks wide-eyed at him; hearing nothing but her heartbeat inside of her ears almost deafening her now.

“No, no, no-”

“It’s ok,” he reassures. “Just don’t let go. It’ll be okay.” Frankie squeezes her hand tighter than ever. "Don't fuckin' let go."

Jude looks out at the horizon, at the waves hurtling towards them; thundering across the ocean and staring at imminent death in the face as it smiles back at them viciously.

It’s been waiting for them, waiting for so long and is now coming to reap the reward of its patience.

“Frankie-” She begins in a terrified voice that whimpers and cracks. “Frankie!”

“I fuckin’ love you, Jude!” Frankie calls out to her frantically over the storm of the relentless tidal commotion that bellows through their eardrums.

She looks back and sees the transformation on his face.

It’s like super, slow motion as his nostrils flare, his eyes widen as big as they'll go, and his mouth morphs into a large engulfing hole; his teeth bared and shouting as loudly as he can at her.

He wrenches Jude backwards into his arms as the waves fully engulf the island in a thunderous roar.

“BRAAACE!!” Frankie yells.

To be continued...

SERIES MASTERLIST | PREVIOUS CHAPTER | NEXT CHAPTER

Thank you for taking the time to read my story; it really means so much to me. I'd love to know your thoughts, and I'd really appreciate a re-blog so others can enjoy this story too. Thank you so much 🖤

MAIN MASTERLIST

TAGLIST: I'm no longer adding tags due to some of them not working correctly. Please ensure you're following me and turn on notifications so you don't miss a chapter instead. If you'd like to be removed from the tag list, please let me know.

Tagging everyone who asked to be tagged/commented on/re-blogged my initial teaser & prologue:

@suzdin @missladym1981 @magpiepills @millennial-teenybopper @legendary-pink-dot @msjarvis @tightjeansjavi @burntheedges @inept-the-magnificent @casa-boiardi @sin-djarin @rhoorl @disassociation-daydreams @quinnnfabrgay @chronically-ghosted @fuckyeahdindjarin @chiriwritesstuff @copperhalfcent @bluestar22x @5oh5 @gobaaby-blog-blog @myloveistoolittle @pastawench @maggiemayhemnj @secretelephanttattoo @yesjazzywazzylove-blog @thethirstwivesclub @seratuyo @mysterious-moonstruck-musings @toomanytookas @survivingandenduring @lizzie-cakes @sawymredfox @iloveenya @elegantduckturtle @covetyou @undercoverpena @connectioneverywhere @trulybetty @nerdieforpedro @thisneozonerecs @fckyeapedrothots99 @goodwithcheese @anavatazes @doughmonkey @lilmizmoz @76bookworm76

#pedro pascal #pedro paacal x reader #frankie morales #frankie morales x reader #pedro pascal characters #francisco catfish morales #frankie morales x ofc #frankie morales x you #frankie morales smut #triple frontier fic #adrift with you series #jett's writing

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captain-hen · 11 months

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BUCK & EDDIE IN EVERY EPISODE ↳ 6.13: mixed feelings (1/3)

[Image Description: 10 gifs of Evan Buckley, Eddie Diaz and Christopher Diaz from 9-1-1 season 6, episode 13. The scene is taking place at daytime at the dining table in Buck's loft. Gif 1: Two gifs on a large canvas. First, a shot of Buck coming to sit down with a bowl of popcorn in his hand, squinting as he answers Chris' question about what's the square root of 162, "Well, it's not a perfect square. So that would be 12.727, I think." The shot shifts to Eddie, who looks over at Chris sitting next to him as he checks it on the calculator. Second, Chris says excitedly, "That's right. This is awesome, Dad. Buck knows everything." Eddie pouts slightly, scrunching up his face as he replies, "Yeah, yeah." Gif 2: Two gifs on a large canvas. First, a wide shot of the three of them together as Buck sits down, saying, "Not everything. I—I think it's just the math stuff. Second, Buck, takes a sip of his beer as he says, "Today, on the way to work, I was able to calculate exactly how many gallons of gas I needed to get myself to the firehouse." As he speaks, the shot cuts to Eddie and Chris. Gif 3: 4 smaller gifs on a large canvas. First, while focused on his phone, Eddie asks Buck absently, "Why not just fill it up?" Off screen, Buck replies, "Because figuring it out was more fun." Second, Buck reaches out to garb some popcorn, smiling as he says, "Turns out, I love math." Third, Eddie reads from his phone, "Well, according to this, people can get new cognitive abilites—" Fourth, it cuts to Buck and then back to Eddie as he continues to read, "—After a serious injury to the central nervous system." Gif 4: Two gifs on a large canvas. First, Buck nods seriously, saying, "Ooh, which I—I definitely had. The shot shifts to Eddie, raising his eyebrows at his phone as he says, "Mm. But some doctors are saying it's not a real thing." Second, Buck looks indignant as he says, "Uh, you—you think I've secretly known the square root of 162 all these years and just been holding out?" The shot cuts to Eddie, looking up at him as he speaks. Gif 5: Two gifs on a large canvas. First, earnestly, Buck says, "No, come on. It—It has to be lightning. The shot shifts to Eddie who points at him and says, "Fair point." Second, as Eddie speaks, off screen, saying, "This guy literally got the power of electricity after being struck. Said the lights would turn on and off every time he walked into a room." Buck flexes his hands and squints down at them as if trying to exert a superpower. Gif 6: A shot of Buck looking at Eddie, grinning, as he says, "I wish I got something like that. You know, ESP, or...maybe the ability to see into the future or read people's minds." The shot cuts to Eddie, skeptical as Buck speaks, and then back to Buck again. Gif 7: 4 smaller gifs on a large canvas. First, Buck raises his eyebrows as Eddie says, "Those sound like terrible powers to have." It cuts to Chris, who says, "Maybe this is just the first phase." Second, Chris has just said, "Maybe you'll get more powers the stronger you get." Buck points at Chris enthusiastically, saying, "Yes, like an actual superhero." Third, Eddie tilts his head, saying, "You did get struck by lightning." Fourth, Chris adds, "Classic origin story," And Eddie nods, waving his hand in a told-you-so motion. Gif 8: After Eddie asks Buck what he's gonna do with his new-found superpowers, Buck says, "Ooh," looking intrigued. The shot cuts to Eddie and Chris, Eddie looking amused as Chris says with a mischievous grin, "He could give me the answers to my math homework." Gif 9: Eddie lightly chastises Chris, grabbing a page from his hand, saying, "Uh-uh. Uh-uh-uh-uh. You're never gonna learn if he gives you the answers. In the background of the shot, Buck smiles and laughs fondly at them, ducking his head. Gif 10: Smiling brightly and joyfully at Eddie and Chris, Buck tilts his head, reaching across the table as he says, "I'm the guy with the answers. I kind of like it." /End ID]

#scheduled post #911edit #911 fox #*#userisha #usermaripal #useralie #usertriz #userdorksinlove #userpaolo #usercorinne #alielook #evanbuckleyedit #eddiediazedit #christopherdiazedit #*buddie #buddiedit #long post

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asimp4bee · 3 months

Note

HIVE THE LONG POST I BEG OF YOU

Okay you asked for this, we're gonna be here for a while 💀

This is a continuation of this post!

5. Megatron (MTMTE/LL)

I love his design and I'm a sucker for reformed antagonists/villains. Also him in this specific artstyle makes me feel things <\\33

6. TFP Arcee

MOTHER. Her voice, God her voice. I love her. I would smooch her and kiss her hand.

7. TF:E Elita-One

MOTHER PT.2. It's a crime we hardly get much content involving Elita in shows/movies. I love her design in TFE sm :(( hope we get more of her in season 2

8. TF:E Megatron

Again, I'm a sucker for reformed antagonists/villains. Also his design in Earthspark is gorgeous. The way interacts with Twitch :(( my heart, I love him, he's so sweet.

9. TF:E Soundwave

MF IS THE DEFINITION OF HOURGLASS. HIS HIPS LORD— Ahem.

10. TFP Ratchet

I love him. I love fictional grumpy old men. Especially if they're giant alien robots. There's a lot I love about Ratchet's character in TFP and I love him :((

11. RiD 2015 Windblade

MOTHER PT.3. I love her voice. I love her design. Her colors UGHHHH kissing her hand and treating her right mm-hmm.

12. Ultra Magnus (MTMTE/LL)

I love Magnus so so much. I love his design, I love his personality, HES JUST SO UGH. And him in this artstyle also makes me feel things <33

13. TFP Optimus

I love him. He deserves everything, deserves the world 😭 i just wanna be held by him and vice versa. He deserves sm love and smooches

14. TFP Ultra Magnus

Same thing as MTMTE Magnus <33

15. Knightverse Optimus

I love him sm. He deserves everything and the way he kept blaming himself in the movie??? GOD I JUST WANTED TO HUG HIM SO BAD. I love him :(((

Okay and that's pretty much all of them <333 (I think-)

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twinsunstars · 2 days

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*while filming episode 13, the camera rolling on the scene Omega goes over her escape plan with Eva, Jax, Sami, and Baryn* Omega: Look. It’s a layout of the vault. This is where we're sitting right now. *Baryn coos loudly, reaching his doll out to Omega* Omega *staying in character and adding to her lines*: Uh-huh, right. These are the walls. These are the tubes in the walls the droids use to- *Baryn makes noises, making Omega pause* -mm-hmm, transport our samples. *Sami smiles, trying not to break with Baryn in her arms* Omega: I need to get inside- *Baryn interrupts, exclaiming “Yea!”, trying to say “Yes”* *Omega tries to continue, but she smiles, breaking* *Sami allows herself to break after Omega* Omega: *laughing* I’m sorry, he’s so cute!

part of my Bad Batch Season 3 Actors/Behind The Scenes Incorrect Quotes series!

The Bad Batch Season 3 Actors/Behind the Scenes Incorrect Quotes Masterlist

#inspired by that one blooper from friends with the baby #i love the kids sm #star wars #actors au #the bad batch #tbb #sw tbb #the bad batch season 3 #the bad batch spoilers #tbb s3 #the bad batch omega #the bad batch sami #the bad batch baryn

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livyjh · 1 year

Text

Unexpected Visitor

Din Djarin x Reader

Rating: EXPLICIT 18+

Word count: 1.6k

Entire work can be found on ao3 here

Din Djarin Masterlist

Description: You work in a brothel, an exciting new customer enters and you get to service him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was summer in Imperial City, and had to be the hottest day of the year, you guessed. Thankfully, your normal work attire only included a bra, panties, and a thin robe.

There were pros and cons to working in a place like this during summer. On one hand, it was the busy season and you haven’t felt this rich in years. The heat made everyone horny. On the other hand, customers were generally sweaty and sometimes even stank from it. But you charged accordingly.

It was nearing 8pm and most of the other women were in rooms or on break, which left you welcoming any and all new customers when they walked in.

You could hear footsteps outside the door before the person entered. You were nearly startled by the sight.

Beskar armor, head to toe. It wasn’t hard to tell, the unique shine of it dazzled you.

“Hello,” you started, trying to keep your breathing even. “How can I help you?”

He stared at you for a long second. He scanned the room before turning his helmet to face you again. “How much?” He was straight to the point.

“Depends on what you want.” You informed him, shifting your weight to your left side and putting a hand on that hip, free hand wiping a bead of sweat from your forehead.

He didn’t say anything.

“Handies are 50. Blows are 75. Fucks are 200.” You raise a brow at him, wondering if he’s just got a bad attitude.

The masked man reaches into a pouch and hands you some credits. You count them. 200.

“Come on back… uh-“ you hold out a hand, gesturing, hoping he’ll give you a name.

“Mando.” He says shortly.

“Mando.” You nod, smiling at him as you lead him back to a room. “Ground rules; no violence, no shitting, no pissing. The rest is fair game.”

“Mhm.” He agrees quickly.

Once you’re both in the room, you shut and lock the door. You turn around to see the man placing his gloves on the dresser. It was the only skin on him you could see.

“Gonna take forever to get that armor off.” You observe.

“It’s staying on.” He spoke firmly.

“Okay.” You nod, heat pooling in your stomach. You didn’t know if it was the dominance, the voice, or the way he was disguised by the helmet, but something was intriguing about him.

You weren’t sure how to start things, unable to read his hidden face. You weren’t stupid, you knew that men of his kind couldn’t show their faces.

Nonetheless, you gathered yourself and walked over to him, placing your hands on his chest.

He reached down and wasted no time untying your robe before pushing it off of you. His hands were rough, calloused. They felt like high grit sandpaper against your well moisturized, dewy skin. The bedrooms were hotter than the front of the building, which meant you were sweating even a little more now. You couldn’t imagine how hot he was under his armor and layers of clothing.

The Mandalorian stepped back, admiring your figure as he held your waist. “Mm.” He hummed.

You could almost feel yourself blushing. This was out of the ordinary for you. To be fair, a lot of men you serviced were submissive. You had a dominant side that you used a lot, but it was nice when someone else was willing to take the lead.

He sat on the bed and patted his thighs with each hand, gesturing for you to have a seat.

You nodded, walking to the bed and putting a leg on each side of his hips to straddle him.

He wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you in against his chest.

The cold metal made you gasp, but something about the sensation caused you to become wetter. You bit your lip and looked at the visor, having to guess where his eyes were.

“You’re pretty.” He cooed.

You smiled, slinging your arms around his shoulders. “Thanks.”

In one swift move, the Mandalorian flipped you onto your back, getting on top of you while staying between your legs. You tried to hold back a moan, barely able to stifle it.

Mando snaked a hand between your legs, pushing your panties aside and sliding his fingertip between your lips.

“Fuck.” You cursed, eyes closing from the pleasure. You could literally hear how wet you were as his finger slid up and down through your folds.

“Are you always this wet?” Mando asked.

You took a second to answer, opening your eyes and finally shaking your head.

His finger rubbed upwards against your clit, making your legs clamp around him.

“Ah ah, open up.” He encouraged.

You let your bent legs relax, the apex of your thighs widening as he pushed a finger into you.

“Good girl.” The Mandalorian spoke softly, pushing his finger inside until he could feel your g-spot. He curled his finger slightly, letting the rough pad of his fingertip graze against that special place inside you.

You couldn’t help the whine that escaped you, your eyes rolling back into your head.

He continued his ministrations, making your head spin when he pushed a second finger inside. You clamped down around his digits, making a groan come through the helmet.

He pulled his fingers out of you suddenly, bringing them to your lips. You froze for a moment.

He tilted his helmet just slightly, a silent “do it.”

You let your jaw drop and take his slick fingers into your mouth, sucking on them, licking them and swirling your tongue around them, moaning as you tasted yourself.

He pulls his fingers from your mouth after you sufficiently cleaned them, groping your left breast as you feel his hardness press against you.

You hear him groan as his hips push into yours, and you swear to your maker it’s the sexiest thing you’ve ever heard.

You gasp as he grips the fabric of your bra cup and yanks it down before grabbing your bare breast with his large hand. He cups it for a moment before moving to rub his thumb over your hardened nipple.

“Mando…” you trail off, watching him intently. You could tell that getting other people off, got him off. You wished he’d take off the damn helmet, put his mouth on you somewhere. Or just put his cock in you already.

Like he read your mind, he pulled back just enough to push the front of his pants down. He pulled out his cock and you practically choked on air at the sight of it.

It was thick, had to be 7 or 8 inches, the head was a deep pink and a bead of precum lingered at his slit. He pulled your panties to the side once more, lining up with your entrance.

He stared down at where his dick met your pussy as he pushed inside. “Such a good girl. Taking my cock.” He muttered, breathless.

You whined in response, breathing hard enough you thought you might fog up his helmet if he were any closer.

Once he was fully seated inside of you, he pulled back out with a slow drag, then back in a little faster this time.

You grabbed the armor over his shoulders, wishing there was skin for you to touch or dig your nails into.

The Mandalorian watched himself pull in and out of you, your juices soaking him so he could move in and out of you easier, faster.

Soon, he was fucking you into the mattress, helmet close to your face. And you were, in fact, fogging up the outside of it (about where his mouth and chin would be).

“F- feel so fu- fucking good.” He stutters, angling his hips to get even deeper inside of you. All the while, his hand finds its way between your legs again, rough thumb rubbing over your clit.

“Please.” You gasp.

“Tell me what you want.” He orders.

“More.” Your hand reaches down to press his thumb harder into your clit.

He obliges, rubbing circles against you hard enough to make your eyes cross.

You arch your back as your climax quickly approaches, the cold beskar on his torso pressing against your stomach.

“M- Mando, gonna cum-“ you barely get the words out before your orgasm rips through you like lightning.

“Ahh, good girl. Fuck, such. A. Good. Girl.” He emphasizes each word with a hard thrust into you and you’re certain you black out for a moment.

When you come to, he’s still fucking you hard, thumb on your pleasure button like before. He was relentless and you knew you were going to cum again.

“Almost. There.” He groans.

You nod in agreement, unable to form any words as you wipe sweat off the side of your face.

Suddenly, his cock is twitching, shooting ropes of cum deep into you as he fucking whines.

This tips you over the edge once more and you’re nearly screaming, eyes squeezed shut as you spasm around him.

He keeps thrusting for a good 10-20 seconds before slowing to a stop. He keeps his dick inside of you for a few minutes as it softens, finally pulling out with a groan.

He’s breathing hard through the modulator as he scoots back and stands up from the bed, tucking himself back into his pants.

He faces you and clears his throat. “Thank you.” He grabs his gloves, and as quickly as he came, he was gone. He shuts the door behind himself, leaving you there breathless and leaking his cum.

You hoped he’d come back.

#din djarin #the mandolarian #mandalorian #smut #reader insert #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian x reader #din djarin smut #mandalorian smut #helmet #the helmet stays on

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spikes-got-anger-issues · 4 months

Text

I recently listened to The Sit and Chat (Jake and Bradley's podcast) episode that had Kelli on it and decided to create timestamps where they talked about anything relating to MM, LR, or LR:EF

But seriously go watch it for yourself, it was neat listening to Kelli talk about her life, insightful in general, and very funny!

youtube

11:46 - 12:31 - They talk about first working with each other on LR:EF and the Lab Rats vs. Mighty Med episode

20:40 - 21:08 - Billy is briefly mentioned due to Jake mixing up where Kelli is from with where Billy is from

25:00- 26:22 - Bradley and Kelli talk about how thankful they were to be on Disney as kids and their experiences

27:16 - 28:17 - Kelli talks about starting LR and how she grew up with Bree/as Bree and was happy with her character arc and where Bree ended up

28:17 - 29:22 - Bradley points out how Kaz, Oliver, Skylar, Bree, and Chase were essentially all different characters in LR:EF compared to who they were in their original respective shows

29:22 - 30:20 - They talk about how all five of them in LR:EF were ready as lead actors but were confined down to the writing of the show and how difficult that became as the characters switched leading parts in different episodes. Bradley says that they weren't angry at each other because of this, but Jake and Kelli say that something deeper than that was going on. Jake expresses that he wished he could have done more on LR:EF

30:20 - 31:09 - (continuation of conversation above) Jake talks about how he was interested with where Oliver's character arc would go in LR:EF and didn't know what to expect going from MM to LR:EF. He said he trusted the creators of LR who went on to create LR:EF and their writing for Oliver, but quickly realized in LR:EF that it wasn't what he was expecting for Oliver (I feel so bad for Jake). He still appreciates his time on the show and being on Disney, but views that time as a transition into more serious acting

31:49 - 35:33 - Bradley talks about how funny it was that Kelli always had a difficult time hitting her mark, especially when he was directing an episode ("Sheep-Shifting")

41:09 - 42:13 - They briefly talk about how they weren't allowed to do other projects without approval after LR:EF ended while they waited to find out if the show would get a season 2 and how the holdout on that was for one year after season 1 came out. Bradley says that they weren't even told what was going to happen to LR:EF and how it just dissipated out

#I had no idea Bradley and Kelli were that close of friends and helped each other with roles #also go listen to their old podcast episode with Paris it was super funny #oh and they filmed this during the SAG-AFTRA strike so that's why they were avoiding saying the names of the shows #btw Kelli Berglund is so pretty #she also mentions that Spencer is like her older brother #disney lab rats #lab rats #lab rats elite force #mighty med #kelli berglund #bradley steven perry #jake short #Youtube

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eldritchgriffin · 2 years

Text

Spooky Podcast Recommendations

Since it's Friday the 13th, I'm going to share a few of my favorite horror podcasts! All of these are excellent podcasts that I highly recommend. The list is pretty short, so if anyone has suggestions for more horror podcasts to listen to, I'd love to hear them!

The Magnus Archives: A very well known podcast, The Magnus Archives is a horror anthology series set in the archives of The Magnus Institute, which studies and collects accounts of supernatural occurrences. Each episode features a different story, though there is overarching plot involving what goes in the Institute itself. TMA is completed with 200 episodes. The writer has also written the book 13 Storeys, and Rusty Quill has a variety of other podcasts you can listen to.

Hello From the Hallowoods: HftH is a story about a wide variety of people attempting to survive in post-apocalyptic North America. The characters vary from normal humans, to witches, to ghosts, to demons, and more. It is surprisingly comforting for a horror podcast, and has plenty of friendships and found family. The series is ongoing in its second season. The creator is currently writing a book in the same universe, and you can follow them @hellofromthehallowoods

Murray Mysteries: MM is a modern, queer adaptation of Bram Stokers Dracula (of Dracula Daily renown). It's a funny and sad story told through Mina Murray's podcast, with the help of her friends. MM is completed with 46 episodes. The creators have also announced that they have more series in the works, so you can follow them @knovesstorytelling if you want to stay updated on that!

Camp Here and There: CHnT mostly follows the daily announcements made by the camp nurse at a very strange camp. The podcast is somewhat similar to Welcome to Nightvale in the way strange and creepy events at the camp are often taken in stride. In addition to the day to day events of the camp there is overarching plot involving the various members of camp staff and a mysterious individual in a pink elephant mask... Currently on hiatus between season one and two.

The Children of Room 56: This is a fairly new podcast, with only a few episodes out, but it's already very intriguing. It follows a group of high-schoolers trying to cope with the disappearance of their friend, Chip Romero. Some are attempting to locate him, while others are grieving his presumed death. The story is set in a Nightvale/CHnT-esque town, with mystery and excellent horror. This series is ongoing. You can follow them @room56pod

#podcast recommendations #the magnus archives #tma #hello from the hallowoods #hfth #murray mysteries #mm #dracula #camp here and there #chnt #the children of room 56 #horror podcast

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ak11-content · 3 months

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Our first guest is SELF's January cover star Ali Krieger. You may know Ali is a decorated soccer player who is coming off a national Women's Soccer league championship win with New York, New Jersey, Gotham last season, which also happened to be her retirement season. But Ali is quick to remind people that soccer is just something she does, it's not who she is. So I'll also add that she's a vocal advocate for important social justice issues, a mom of two and a great friend to her nearest and dearest. I had the pleasure of interviewing her for SELF's January cover story, which is out now, and I'm so excited to be talking to her again today. Ali, welcome to the show.

Ali: Hi. Thank you so much for having me.

Rachel: Of course. So let's get into it. Um, the first time we're gonna ask you, or the first younger self I'm gonna ask you to give advice to is your childhood self. So before we get into the advice, I'd love to know what were you like as a kid?

Ali: I, um, I was shy. I was reserved, um, somewhat calm. That's definitely not how I am on the, on the soccer field.

Rachel: (laughs).

Ali: But I, I just followed my brother around all the time. He was super active and, um, you know, just always wanting to play and, and hang out. So we had to really, we had a really good childhood. I feel like everything was at our fingertips. We grew up in, you know, uh, Dumfries in Northern Virginia. And, um, yeah, we were just hanging out with friends, playing sports, and just enjoying family time. Ultimately, I always wanted to just be around my brother hanging out, and I learned a lot from him too along the way.

Rachel: That's so cute. And he's 13 months older than you, right?

Ali: Yes, yes. We're 13 months apart. Mm-hmm.

Rachel: That's amazing. When did you start playing soccer?

Ali: I played soccer when I was about five or six. Um, I played with my brother on a team called Cosmos, an indoor team where we were like five and six years old. And, um, I remember our green jerseys and every time you'd score you get like a little, you know, iron on star on the back, and, uh, unfortunately I don't think I still have that jersey, but it was really fun because I just wanted to be as good as he was.

Rachel: That's really cute. Well, I, I guess, I guess you did catch up to him eventually.

Ali: (laughs). Yeah.

Rachel: (laughs). Well, when you think back on a time when you were a kid that you really could have used a little guidance from your current self, what comes to mind?

Ali: I think just only controlling the controllables. I think throughout life, you know, you have to fight through adversity. You endure a lot mentally, physically, emotionally, especially within sport. And it's okay to make mistakes, it's okay to fail because when you do, you learn the most. And so I think, you know, just being comfortable in that chaotic, um, environment because along the way I learned that not every coach is gonna like me. Uh, not every coach is gonna value me and appreciate me, but you, you know, have to continue to, you know, go down this path that you want and in order to, to be as successful as you want and how you dream. I think just having that advice, uh, would, would help a lot of the younger girls like it, or, and boys like it did for me.

Rachel: That's really great. And you mentioned you were shy. Was there anything that helped you kind of come out of your shell a little bit?

Ali: I think I was shy because my brother was just nonstop talking (laughs), so like, and I would just follow him and do whatever he did, so.

Rachel: Mm-hmm.

Ali: Um, and I felt comfortable in that. Uh, he was, you know, more of like, uh, a leader when we were younger and I just, you know, wanted to be like him and always around him. So, um, he would always do the talking for me. So I-

Rachel: (laughs).

Ali: ... think, um, eventually I broke outta my shell, but I think early on I was just, I don't know, just shy and reserved and then maybe soccer brought that other side out in me. And as, as I got older and I got, you know, better at the sport and I could feel that as a player, I, you know, gained more confidence.

Rachel: So the next younger self that I wanted to ask you about is what advice you would give to yourself when you were coming out. And I wanted to kind of preface this with queer people come out over and over again in their lives. So this question can apply to a specific coming out or maybe more when you're coming out to yourself 'cause both are important. Um, so I guess to me this is about a coming out that felt really significant to you and what advice you would give yourself when you were going through that.

Ali: Yeah, for sure. I mean, going way back when my brother came out to me when he was a senior in high school, I think it was towards the end of his high school, um, career. Um, and he was moving on to college and he was about to go to spring break and he sat down and he told me he is, you know, he's gay and he's into, um, men and I, I didn't really know what that meant. I was just happy that he expressed that to me and I said, "You know, I don't care who you love, I support you either way, and I love you so much." And so I think I'm lucky to, you know, I've, I've, you know, thought that at that age-

Rachel: Yeah.

Ali: ... 'cause I just didn't know what it meant, you know, we were-

Rachel: Definitely.

Ali: ... we grew up in such a vanilla town and, um, you know, nothing was really visible when I was young. And so then moving on to college, I had this, you know, experience of seeing more visibility with, um, you know, queer individuals. And there were, you know, a couple pairs of, you know, individuals on my team who you know, came out as lesbian, but also just bi or, you know, just were discovering their sexuality at the time. And I didn't really understand it. I just thought men could be together.

Rachel: Yep. Mm-hmm.

Ali: So I'm grateful that I finally stepped into that space because then-

Rachel: Definitely.

Ali: ... a lot to me made sense, even though I had a boyfriend in college for like three and a half years. I then, you know, felt that there was something about me that might want to discover more. And, um, you know, going through this like self-discovery, um, and moving to Germany and playing there for five and a half years, I really, um, was more exposed to an environment that was, I think more accepting of, you know, um, my sexuality and discovery of myself. And I just kind of went for it. And I, you know, uh, was having really great experiences there and, and really finding myself more. And then coming back in 2012, um, that, that started with the NWSL and we started the league, um, and, and moved forward. And so I felt like coming back to the states with kind of this new perspective of, you know, life, but also, um, this new feeling I had of who I was as a human being and living my life, uh, more authentically and in this truth, I could then apply that to coming back home. And played in the NWSL. And then, uh, met my previous partner, um, and we were on the national team together. And then eventually in 2019, I mean, we were together for, since probably 2012, right around that time officially. And then from then till, you know, 2019, we didn't come out really because we were afraid we were gonna lose our job. But that was my, you know, that was a partnership where I felt super confident, comfortable. Um, but I was, I wasn't, as a public figure, I wasn't wanting to make it, you know, um, as public because that was the only thing at the end of the day where I could have some privacy.

Rachel: Yeah.

Ali: And so that's what I valued and that was more so the reason why I never spoke on it. Um, and also we had the same job, so I was afraid we were gonna lose our job.

Rachel: Yeah.

Ali: Playing at the highest level, you just dunno how people are going to react.

Rachel: Yeah.

Ali: And so I was more aware of that. And then, you know, getting sponsorship deals and things like that, I wasn't sure how you know, people and brands were gonna react to, to me and, and her at the time. Um, but then in 2019, we just felt like, you know what F it. Like we we wanna live our lives true and authentic, and we eventually wanna start a family and like, this is us. Right. If you don't like it, then bye.

Rachel: Yeah.

Ali: Um, you know, you need us more than we need you type of type of mentality. And so I think in 2019 was when we came out, um, as engaged. And then, um, the response was incredible. Which I never would've thought in a million years, um, unfortunately, which is crazy to say out loud.

Rachel: Yeah. Yeah.

Ali: But I, I never thought that it would be as good as it did, all of our brands and sponsorships. We even had more opportunities-

Rachel: That's amazing.

Ali: ... after the, we made this announcement and not everyone goes through that.

Rachel: Yeah. Yeah.

Ali: Right. Not everyone has that experience. And so I, I knew right away that okay, this is a situation where I feel super lucky and super grateful to be able to tell this story, uh, you know, a positive story of, you know, a queer couple or lesbian couple that, you know, had just come out and, and, uh, were engaged and he wants to live this life together. And so it, it, there's no right or wrong way to do it, it's just how you feel. And you have to make sure that it's what you want, not what anybody else wants. And that the right time for you might not be when somebody else, uh, asks you or when someone else, I don't know, puts it out there. It's just, it's, it's about how you feel and how you wanna approach it. And I felt like that time was good for me and I was willing to take that risk because I was afraid that I was gonna lose my job and, and other things in my life. So I just went for it and I just, I just felt it in my gut that it was right.

Rachel: Yeah. That's really nice. It's really scary, es- especially when the stakes are high like that. And it's, it sucks that we're still in a world where you weren't sure if it was gonna cost you endorsements or your role in this thing you worked so hard for. Like, but, you know, that's the reality. I'm glad that it went so well for you, but, you know, it's, it's still really scary. It's risky. I think it's so interesting what you said about that lack of visibility, because I think we're around the same age, and I've heard from so-

Ali: Yeah.

Rachel: ... many women this age when they're, who have had the reaction of like, "I didn't know women could be gay." Which is just, it sounds wild when you say that out loud, but like, I think we forget now because so much has changed. Like, it was like Ellen and that was it maybe, or like, maybe a joke on a sitcom, you know, like, it just, it was so different. And I think if you didn't see yourself, you're just like,"Okay, well I guess that's not me." And just like kept, you know, didn't think about-

Ali: Yeah.

Rachel: ... it again. And, and now so much has changed that a lot of women in their thirties and forties and older are realizing like, "Oh, this is something I was missing." And I think that's, that's so exciting because like you said, it is this expansive process where you realize there can be more for you. It's not, you're not losing anything. You have, you get to open yourself up to something new and that's so special.

Ali: Right. And I, you know, I, I was so happy that I was like, "Okay, this is what I've been feeling and missing. Like this is, these are a few answers now that I can take with me. That now I can kind of, you know, work on that and, and understand myself more on a deeper level," where before in college, I was like, "Who am I? What am I doing?" Why am I feeling this way? This is weird." Like, and, and so I feel now that I, from college stepping into, you know, my, um, my experience overseas, I was able to do a bit of self-discovery, which then gave me a whole new perspective on my life. And whether I wanted to be in a lesbian relationship or if I was, you know, experiencing, you know, more of bisexuality experiences. I, I was open to anything at the time because I was just like, "You know what? I could be free and this is me."

Rachel: Yeah.

Ali: "And let's just see where this goes." And, um-

Rachel: That's amazing.

Ali: Yeah. And you kind of just fill your cup slowly and you start, you know, really discovering yourself more. And I, I really am so grateful for that experience. Um, and, and finally being in a, in an environment where it was okay, uh, to, to be me.

Rachel: Well, I wanna pivot a little bit to talking about career stuff, because you've obviously had this really long career really, like filled with a lot of highs, but also there were some lows. Um, so I wanted to talk about the advice that you would give yourself when you didn't make the National Women's Soccer team-

Ali: Mm-hmm.

Rachel: ... 'cause I think we all go through career setbacks, obviously, but with sports, I think it can probably feel incredibly personal and the stakes are very high. Uh, so maybe if you could start by kind of telling people what happened if they're not familiar with the situation, and then the advice you would give yourself if you had to do it all over again.

Ali: Yeah. So I, um, was basically in 2017, I think was trying to continue to make the team, every year you'd have to fight for contracts every January at the time where it was you know, you would get a contract with a national team, and it wasn't like a pay-to-play model where you get invited in now, um, at any moment. And so it's always a bloodbath at a January camp where we're all fighting to make the team. And at the beginning I did, but then slowly I had, you know, just, it was probably after World Cup in 2015 where things started to get a little rocky. And I started to recognize, "Okay, like there's other players coming in and the coach doesn't necessarily value me as much as before, even though I just played 2015 every game in the World Cup." And it just, you know, it was a really difficult year for me. Um, slowly but surely, I, you know, stopped getting called in. Um, and I didn't really get a reason for that. There was never really a, you know, kind of like a closure. That was why it was so difficult for me to move forward um, in my career at the time. And I was devastated. I didn't get called back for a whole year and a half, almost two years. And right before the next World Cup, I get a call because, um, you know, they were in need of, of a defender. And I think I had proved myself, uh, through that time period, and I made it really difficult for them to ignore me. You know, just had the super laser focus of, "I wanna achieve this, and I know I can do it and I'm gonna do it." And I'm, like I said before, I just made it difficult for them to ignore me. And so ultimately my coach at the time gave me a call. We didn't really discuss the, the last-

Rachel: (laughs).

Ali: ... you know, two years because I said, "I'm in a different space now. I'm in a different you know, um, you know, mentality. I am super focused on where I'm at. I don't wanna bring up the past. Let's just like move forward. What do you need me to do? I'm here for the team, I'm here for you, and let's make it happen. Right? Like, I, I'm, I'm open to whatever you need from me, uh, in order to help this team be successful." And so I ended up getting called back into the last camp before the team was chosen for 2019.

Rachel: Wow.

Ali: And somehow, some way I got back into the team right before it mattered most, and we ended up going to World Cup and we ended up winning. And I actually, um, I didn't play as often as they did in 2015 and 2011. But I did get a chance to go into, um, two games. And then the final, I had to, she called on me, uh, when one of our right back, um, Kelly O'Hare, who's my teammate now, she unfortunately had a bad head injury. It was like a concussion so, right before halftime. So then I get the call to, to go in and fill her spot-

Rachel: Wow.

Ali: ... in the second half of the final. And I couldn't believed that. I was just like, "Alright, this is why I'm here. This is exactly why."

Rachel: Yeah. [inaudible 00:15:41] you spent years preparing for this.

Ali: Yeah. Like, just these, these 45 minutes. "This is why I'm on this team right now." And we were 0-0 at the time. So I was so grateful that I could help the team win.

Rachel: Yeah.

Ali: And we won two, nothing. And so that, that's kind of that experience. But I always tried to stay positive. It's easy to to get, you know, into your, into your head and, you know say all the things and reasons why, you know you're not there. But I immediately changed that perspective. I, trust me, it was a really dark time.

Rachel: Yeah.

Ali: And I remember, you know, uh, uh, just like wanting to just quit. And I was so frustrated, I was so angry for the longest time. But then I said, "You know what? Like, that's not me. I, I know how good I can be and I know how I can help this team. So let me turn that on, turn that around into a positive and, and get to work."

Rachel: Yeah. That makes sense. And sometimes it helps to let yourself have that period first-

Ali: Mm-hmm.

Rachel: ... just to be mad and to feel bad, and to not talk yourself out of it, or try to fix it-

Ali: Right.

Rachel: ... or go to the gym right away. Sometimes you just have to be upset-

Ali: Mm-hmm.

Rachel: ... and angry, and then you can get through it. But you're like, "I, I'll, I'll get there eventually. But today there's a little time for wallowing and, and mourning and just, you know, feeling bad," and there's nothing you can do. But it sounds like you really brought a level of focus that I'm just sort of in awe. 'Cause it's hard enough to train, but training when you're kind of down, when you're already, when you're coming from that like vulnerable position, I imagine is so much harder.

Ali: It is. It's really difficult. Yeah. But you just gotta push through. And then, you know, as athletes, you know, everything's at risk, right? But it's worth it in the end if it works out. And so you never know that answer until you try.

Rachel: So the last, um, pass up I wanna ask you about is a little bit more recent. Um, and I wanted to ask you about the advice that you would give yourself as a new mom. So as people listening, probably know you are mom to Sloan and Ocean, who are very young. So you were a new mom not so long ago, which is a famously really difficult period. And I'm curious what you, what advice you would give yourself looking back now?

Ali: Um, I would just say (laughs) buckle in because (laughs), nothing ever goes as planned. You could prep all you want, prepare for, you know, anything and everything. Um, but it really just day-to-day, you have to be willing to, um, kind of just be open to whatever comes. And, um, you always have to think of what if as a mom. So, uh, it's kind of like a spontaneous day-to-day. I, I never know what the day's gonna bring. I'm as prepared as I can be, but, you know, some days the kids can be great, some days they be terribly sick, some days they're gonna have tantrums, some days, you know, everything's gonna flow perfectly. And, you know, all the meals are gonna work out. I mean, I, I literally think that, um, I would tell myself just buckle in because, um, you have to make sure you're, you're open to anything that's, you know, that that could happen. And, and patience is gonna be key.

So no matter how my kids are acting or feeling, or I'm always trying to stay calm in the way that I speak to them too. Um, you know, if they're yelling and screaming and then I'm yelling and screaming and saying, "Stop, or Don't do this or that," you know, that's just not the way that I approach, um, you know, how I am parenting. And so I feel like if I stay consistent, even though sometimes I do wanna yell, and you gotta just like, you know, you get angry and you're frustrated and you just need like, two minute break and you wanna lock yourself into the pantry. But I, I try to stay as calm as I can and just kind of have like, you know a steady, a steady response.

Um, and then I think kids, young kids, ultimately they don't understand why they're feeling certain ways that they're feeling, whether that be really happy, sad, frustrated, all the things, uh, and all the emotions. I would tell myself just allow that to happen. And, um, and just embrace them more instead of tell them what to do about it. Because I would tell Sloan even now, 'cause sometimes she doesn't understand her feelings that you know, I just try to give her a hug and console her and embrace her because I always say, "Listen, it's okay to feel the way that you're feeling." Um, but if she's say throwing things or hitting something, or I'm always like, "It's okay that you're feeling upset or sad or angry or frustrated, but it's not okay to throw your things or your food or…” So I want to allow and give space for all the feelings and emotions because unfortunately as a kid, I don't, um, think that I expressed my feelings and emotions enough. So I think maybe telling my younger self before having kids just allow your kids to feel those emotions and feelings and, and just embrace, uh, the tantrums and-

Rachel: (laughs).

Ali: ... uh, the yelling and the crying and all the things, because those are emotions too. And those are just as important as being happy and excited and joyful.

Rachel: I think that's great advice for new parents. But I also think it's great advice for adults for themselves to just let themselves feel what they're feeling and, and name, what they're feeling and understanding why. I think a lot of people struggle with, you know, they, they know they're feeling something, but it is hard to name it or to understand why they are, you know, maybe acting out or are doing something that they don't, they look back and they regret. So I think just. all of us can probably benefit from pausing and thinking about our emotions, but not trying to stop them. But I imagine as a parent, you probably wanna step in and fix it, and it's really hard to just like step back and, and let them feel what they're feeling without intervening.

Ali: Right. And just giving them time to process.

Rachel: Definitely. All right, Ali, my last question for you, since this is about advice, is what is the best advice you've ever been given?

Ali: Okay. So Sue Bird actually told me this, and I think it was from Will Smith, a quote from him. I, uh, maybe we can fact check this.

Rachel: (laughs).

Ali: But, uh, when I was really going through that hard time, we went on vacation, um, with her and, and Megan and I had asked them both. I said like, "You know, what do you see? Do I hang out my boots? Like, am I that bad? Like, am I not... Like what am I not doing? Like what am I not seeing? This is crazy.” But she had said this to me that I had carried through every, ever since, um, and then she said, "As an athlete, or just even as a human being, um, if you stay ready, you never have to get ready."

Rachel: Rachel here. So we did fact check this, just to be sure. Turns out Will Smith is known for saying, "So if you stay ready, you ain't gotta get ready." And that is how I run my life. But Dejuan Walker AKA Suga Free wrote and performed the 1997 single titled, If You Stay Ready and it includes the lyrics, if you stay ready, you ain't gotta get ready.

Ali: And that is the mentality that I took into my training preparing to get back to the national team during that you know, tumultuous time. And that daunting, confronting time that I had, uh, those two years where I had kind of this whole self-discovery, but that was always in the back of my mind because I knew there was a possible phone call that would be coming. And I needed to be ready for that opportunity 'cause if I wasn't prepared and I wasn't ready, I wasn't gonna make it So I think that advice was gold for me in that moment. And I just, um, I took that along with me, uh, through those, you know, two years and, and then eventually made it back. And, uh, it all made sense then. And so I'm really grateful that she had, you know, given me that advice and that quote to, to really keep, uh, in order to, you know, achieve what I wanted to at the time.

Rachel: Well, that is a really lovely note to end this on, and really good advice. I think that can apply to a lot of different situations. So, Ali Krieger, thank you so much for being here, being our first guest, sharing your wise words with our listeners, and we're so excited to see what you do next.

Ali: Thank you. I appreciate the invite and I can't wait to continue down this path and, uh, support SELF and your podcast.

Rachel: Thank you so much. Advice To My Younger Self was produced by Hayley Fager and Rachel Miller, and edited by Hayley Fager. Peyton Hayes is our audio production coordinator, and Jake Loomis is our audio engineer. Caitlin Brody and Sergio Kletnoy are our talent bookers.

Transcript provided by Rev.com.

#ali krieger

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girlzwfun · 3 months

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✦‎۟ ࣭ ⊹🍒 IN COLOR is a repackaged album by cheri released on JANUARY 15, 2024. the album consists of 15 tracks with the title track WATER COLOR. water color received only 2 wins during the promotion period.

🖌️ — tracklist

1. i got love

2. water color

3. killing me

4. colors

5. rose

6. roller coaster

7. 11:11

8. four seasons

9. feather

10. cold as hell

11. loveable

12. pastel

13. heart

14. childhood

15. water color (ENG.)

🖌️ — styling

🖌️ — contents

palette ver.

outbox ( 105 x 102 mm. ) + photobook ( 100p ) mini poster + accordion lyric poster ( 1ea ) + cd + photo cards ( 2 out of 10 ) + mini sketchbook & pens

canvas ver.

outbox ( 105 x 102 mm ) + photobook ( 100p ) + mini poster + accordion lyric poster ( 1ea ) + cd + photo cards ( 2 out of 10 ) + mini easel ( 1ea )

🖌️ — photo cards

🖌️ — era notes

• she’s a hitmaker she’s a star she’s the people’s princess k-armys still hate her tbh

• unfortunately she’s also overworked and you can tell

• but she hit 20 wins!!! lfg!!!

• the styling was incredible per usual

• and everyone loves the album inclusions

• cheri pc collectors are not having fun getting these pcs though they’ve been distributed horribly and why are they selling for $300.

• not a whole lot happened during promotions but cheri cannot wait for tour to start

#˗ˏˋ new romantics ⟶ ❛ cheri ❜#˗ˏˋ new romantics ⟶ ❛ discography ❜#˗ˏˋ new romantics ⟶ ❛ eras ❜#ficnetfairy #bts 8th member #bts female addition #bts female member #bts female oc #bts addition #fictional kpop community #kpop oc #idol oc #fictional idol addition #fictional idol soloist #fictional soloist #fictional idol community #kpop au

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drreidsconverse · 1 year

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Love song.

Spencer Reid x reader

Summary: reader accidentally lets her secret hobby slip out, now spencer wants the reader to write him a love song.

(a/n): this is my first imagine! The reader is also a profiler, takes place around season three! Spencer is 25, reader is 24. I literally just named some of the artists that popped in my head.

Warnings: cursing and alcohol, but that’s it!

Saturday April 8th 11:31 pm: i’m releasing this to determine wether i want to keep writing for criminal minds or if people would be interested. life, school, sports, and work have been a lot the past two years, i’ve mostly been lurking rather than writing.

(Y/n)´s pov:

Saturday 12:13 am. “Okay okay, i get it! I know when my opinion isn’t wanted!” Derek laughed.

“Mm, okay. Would we all have been friends in high school?” Penelope asked with a smile. We were at a bar after a long case, and for once it felt like we were having a normal night out. My boyfriend, spencer, was sitting to the left of me and Emily was on my right. We had been at this bar for three hours now, I was on my fourth beer of the night, and some how we’d managed to convince Spencer to drink which was a rare occurrence.

“That is a tuff question penny.” Emily chuckled leaning forward in her chair. “Maybe.” I hummed, “i mean it kind of depends on when, how old, and who? There’s a chance I would’ve either talked to you or ignored you because I really didn’t talk to most people at school.” “ Honestly? Probably not not most of you. (Y/n) and Morgan maybe.” She smirked sending a wink to Derek and i. “Considering our friends were determined by social ranks, who you knew in middle school, and what classes you had? Probably not.” Rossi shrugged Finnishing off the last of his whiskey.

“Actually, school friends are mostly locational, if you didn’t live where you did would yours friends be the same?” Spencer piped up.

***

“What was...your job in college?” Hotch smiled leaning back in his chair. This was a game we played anytime we were really drinking we’d ask each other questions we wouldn’t during a normal work day, basically a drunken 20 questions. “Retail.” Almost everyone groaned reminiscing on what was probably their worst jobs ever. “Coding apps, also doing people’s homework for a pretty penny!” Garcia shouted over the music, which wasn’t that loud, i think. “I ghostwrote for a good bit of artists.” I mumbled what I thought was hardly a whisper. it wasn’t. “You did? Like who?” Jj chirped. Eh, gotta tell em’ sometime. I thought to myself. “Uh, you should’ve asked me this sober jj.” I snorted trying to think of names. “Sara bareilles, jojo, avril Lavigne, maroon 5, fall out boy..and that’s all I can come up with.” Everyone’s faces read ‘shocked’, but to me it wasn’t even that big of a deal. It was just music- my thoughts were interrupting by Penny and Emily dragging me and jj to the dance floor with the guys trailing behind us.

2:13 am Drunk, that was definitely the word for how I was feeling at the moment, attempting to get back to my seat with the rest of the team. Being buzzed wasn’t a feeling a endured often but i know a buzz when it hits and it had definitely hit. Spencer was swaying in his seat with the goofiest grin on his face. “Hey, did you know I love you?” He giggled wrapping his arms around my waist. “Yup!” I laughed wrapping my arms around his neck. “Awww, look at the love birds.” Morgan sang with a chorus of ‘awe’s’ flowing behind him. “Speak-ing of loveeee.. could you maybe write me a love song?” I laughed at how he accentuated certain words and sped the latter half of his sentence up. He was adorable sober or drunk, however drunk spencer a bit had more courage than sober spencer did and I loved it. “What was that, love? Couldn’t hear you!” I whispered in his ear hoping over the loud music my voice could be heard. “I said, could you maybe, you absolutely don’t have to if you don’t want to, write me a love song.” He was fiddling with his fingers in his lap a nervous tic of his. “Ask me when I sober baby!” I kissed his cheek smiling at him.

***

Monday 8:03 am. I still had a massive headache from Saturday and slept all of Sunday. Spencer brought me my coffee just how I liked with a sticky note attached in his hand writing that read: “hope your feeling better :)” thank you! I mouthed at him.

FIN

a/n: I believe for now that’s where i’m gonna end this one, this was the first fic i ever wrote oml. Idk how to finish but i’m always open to suggestions!

#bau x reader #criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x reader

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iam-siriuslysher-lokid · 1 year

Text

We did it!

Letter for RRR and the fandom, from a non-Indian fan

March 13 2023

RRR has made history this day. We have never expected this would happen. But everybody was dreaming about it ever since its release. The RRR fandom, especially here on this hellsite, we call Tumblr, was consisting of only a small number of lovely people. Perhaps, less than 10 or 20 people. Sharing rrr gifs, essays, theories, fanfics, fanarts, quotes and just everything about how we adore RRR and its art so much.

I was also inactive in Tumblr before I got to see RRR. It was a calm Sunday back in May 2022. The film was featured on my dad's netflix as he always like action films and the film was on that category. My dad also loved Indian films and he is the sole reason that I get to see Indian films when I was a kid. He was watching RRR and I sat with him and I got to see already the middle of the film, which was Ram's cry for help to Akhtar and Akhtar confessing he is Bheem. Yes, I was confused by what was going on but I kept watching because I was already hooked by emotions in their eyes and their intense body languages. My dad was already explaining to me how the plot has gone far, by small bits, so I was getting the gist of the plot at that point. After the film, my mom and I were crying because we were so moved by it, emotionally. Especially, the scene from Bheem's torture. It was excruciating to watch. My dad is already rewinding his favorite parts of the film while I was there enjoying the outro song.

"I have never seen anything like this."

I am a cinephile. But my exception always are action films. Because for me it lacks sympathy and real emotions. All I see in those films are choreography and stunts. However, my mind has changed because of RRR. I have never expected I will cry upon watching it. After 2 days, I already made friends from Twitter about the film. About a week, my inactive Tumblr account since 2013 has been revived to once again find fellow fans and cry and talk and scream about the beauty of ths film. I was in the early times of the RRR fandom here and I've met so many amazing people. Lovely, kind and humbling people. RRR fandom, is by far, the most wholesome fandom I've ever been in my entire fangirl years.

RRR deserves all the recognition it's getting. I've been telling about it to my friends, to my coworkers, to fellow film enthusiasts to check this film. And now here we are, in the last season of awards for RRR to join. And we did it!

I am Asian and although, I may not be Indian, but I have never been so proud of a film winning each award events. My heart is full and happy. I am so glad the world has got to see this film and allowing the Indian cinema on the global stage. The talent the people that made RRR have, has undoubtedly shook the world on its feet. To director, SS Rajamouli, to the ultimately talented and devoted actors who we love, Jr NTR and Ram Charan, to MM Keeravani and Chandrabose for such wonderful music that I never knew exists and to each people that worked so hard for the film.

RRR walked so that Indian talent will shine through to the rest of the world.

I may never know if Rajamouli sir, Tarak anna or Charan anna will read this but you are the best thing that has happened to me in 2022 and you are still making me smile and RRR has saved me.

RRR has saved me.

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emotionalcadaver · 9 months

Text

Part 13: Dance of Darkness

Fandom: Peaky Blinders

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Grace Burgess x OC

Summary: Lucy finally finds out the secret Tommy and Grace have been keeping from her all day.

Word Count: 4,440

Notes: Thank you so much to everyone for reading, and I hope you enjoy this last part! There will be a few one-shots posted hopefully soon that will take place between this fic and my rewrite of season 3, to fill in some of the the time gaps between the seasons and to tie up some loose ends here (sorry in advance for the cliffhanger ending). Warnings for depictions of angst, violence, murder, suicidal ideation, and references to sexual assault and pregnancy. Also a big ol' helping of miscommunication because they’re all STUPID.

Masterlists: Main • Series • Fic

Previous Part • Next Part

Chapter 14: Close

“Here,” Lucy lit a cigarette for Lizzie, watching her carefully as she clutched it in her shaking fingers. “The trembling is normal. It’ll pass.”

She could hear Arthur’s booming voice long before he and John spotted them. When they did, Arthur hauled up a chair, sitting down at their table.

“Lizzie, what the fuck are you doing here?”

“Working for Tommy, same as always,” she said shakily.

“You work for the Blinders?”

Lizzie nodded.

“Hey, have either of you seen Tommy?” Lucy asked, checking her watch, frowning. They shook their heads. “Shit,” she took Lizzie’s hands. “Will you be okay if I leave you with John and Arthur? I need to go find him.”

Lizzie nodded, and Lucy gave her another quick squeeze. “Okay. Hey, boys, can you…just sit with her, for a while? And make sure that she gets home okay? I’ve got to go.”

“Sure,” Arthur said.

“Of course,” John spoke at the same time. She nodded.

“Okay, thank you,” getting up, she rushed away, trying to think just where Tommy could have gone off to. Maybe to find May. Or Grace. The ring was closer, she would try there first.

“May!” she shouted, upon seeing her walking beside Grace’s Secret, preparing to take her home.

“Lucy?”

“Have you seen Tommy?”

“No, I figured that he would be with you.”

“We…we got separated and now I can’t find him.”

“I’m sure he’ll turn up.”

“I’m sorry,” Lucy said, shaking her head. “Things haven’t quite gone to plan today.”

“It’s alright. You don’t have to explain,” May wrapped her arms around herself, looking down.

“May?”

“I met her.”

“Who?”

May looked up, expression apprehensive. “Grace.”

Lucy hesitated, guilt building in her throat. “Oh.”

“Mhm.”

“May,” she sucked in a deep breath, wishing that Tommy was there. He was so much better at the talking when it came to these things than her. “Listen–”

“It’s alright. Really. I understand. I think.”

“We never meant to hurt you or lead you on, or…we never thought that she would come back.”

May nodded. “I know.”

Sniffing, Lucy tucked some hair behind her ear. “I’d like to still see you. I’d like to still be friends…I understand if you don’t want that. I know that Tommy would like to keep working with you too, so, um…”

“I would like that.”

She looked up, genuinely startled. After everything, May really had every right to just tell her to fuck off. “Really?”

May shrugged, smiling. “Truth be told, I could use a friend.”

Lucy smiled. “Me too.”

“I have to get the horse home.”

“Right, yes. Go. Don’t let me keep you.”

May hesitated, then wrapped her in a quick hug. “Goodbye, Lucy.”

“Bye, May,” she watched her and the horse disappear, and then sucked in a deep breath. She would try Grace next. Upstairs.

She was climbing them two at a time, eyes continually scanning the crowd, looking for any sign of Tommy’s hat or undercut hair, when she nearly collided with Polly, who was leaving the betting room.

“Polly! You…you’ve spilled a little wine on your dress,” she said, lips curling upwards teasingly as she noticed the blot of red on the front of Polly’s white dress. Far two bright of a red to be wine.

“Hm? Oh, yes,” she clasped her bag over the spot. “It appears I have.”

“He get what he deserved?”

“More than.”

“Mm. How do you feel?”

“Better, actually.”

“Good,” Lucy nodded. “Good. Have you seen Tommy?”

Polly shook her head. “No. Why?”

“No reason,” Lucy lied, not wanting to alarm her. “Listen, Arthur and John and Lizzie are all over there, if you want to join them,” she pointed in the general direction of where she’d left them.

“I think I will. Are you coming?”

“No, I have some things to do first,” she bid Polly goodbye and rushed past the crowd streaming in and out of the betting area. A few coppers were gathered around one of the telephone booths, looking down at a body slumped over in one of them. Bye, bye, Major Campbell. May you rot in hell.

Stretching up on her toes, then jumping slightly, she cursed her lack of height as she strained to see over the crowd’s heads, looking for the pink hat or dress Grace had been wearing. Oh, fuck it. Shoving past a man, she climbed up onto a chair, grinning triumphantly as she towered over everyone in the room, scanning them each one by one, until…

Aha!

Leaping down from the chair, she elbowed her way through until she tapped Grace on the shoulder, where she was sitting hunched over, smoking and looking more than a little anxious.

“Grace.”

“Lucy,” she straightened up, wrapping her arms around her. “I was getting worried.”

“Yeah. Sorry. I…have you seen Tommy? Did he come to see you yet?”

“No, no, I haven’t seen him since…” she trailed off, biting her lip.

“Fuck,” Lucy ran and hand through her hair, scrunching away when she was jostled by a man behind her. “I can’t find him anywhere.”

“You don’t have any idea where he might be?”

“No. He didn’t show up where he said he was going to meet me,” she glanced around helplessly. Like at any moment he might reappear right in front of her.

“Where was he headed last?”

“He was going to meet…” she stopped, teeth grinding together. “Ah, fuck.”

“What?”

She gave Grace a humorless smile. “I’m going to have to go talk to Sabini.”

“On your own?” Grace’s eyes widened.

“He might be the last person who will have an idea where Tommy is.”

“I’ll come with you.”

“No, love. I don’t think so.”

“I could help.”

“It’s just him and his assistant. The coppers are still all crowded around the king. I’ll be fine, promise. Sabini’s not so scary, really. He just likes to throw temper tantrums when he loses.”

Grace sighed, but nodded dejectedly. Lucy winced as she was jostled again.

“Let’s get out of this crowd, come on,” she took Grace by the hand, pulling her along until they got outside.

“Lucy, before you and Tommy were separated, did he tell you what he and I talked about?” Grace asked, a sudden urgency in her voice. The same one that had been there when she’d first approached them earlier in the day.

“No,” Lucy shook her head. “He said that he would tell me later. Why? What is it?”

Grace’s lips pressed together. “He said that he wanted to be the one to tell you.”

“Tell me what?”

Grace looked at her stubbornly and she sighed.

“Fine, don’t tell me,” though she pouted a little, not liking the sudden feeling of being left out.

“I really think it would be better that he tell you.”

“If you say so. Look,” she glanced around. “How did you get here?”

“I have a driver.”

“Can he take you home?”

“Yes.”

“Right,” Lucy dug around in her pocket. “Here. Take this,” she held out a little brass key. “Go to the address on the key. Go inside, there’s food, bed…make yourself at home. Once I’ve found him and we get everything sorted, we’ll come there and find you, okay?”

Grace took the key gently, then nodded. “Okay.”

“It’s my flat. You’ll be more than safe there.”

“I know. Lucy, if something’s happened to him…”

“He’ll be fine,” Lucy insisted. Grace looked down, frowning. “He will be,” she repeated, sternly.

Grace suddenly hugged her, very tightly. “I love you,” she whispered, into Lucy’s shoulder. She blinked hard, both stunned and suddenly overwhelmed with emotion as she wrapped her arms around Grace.

“I love you too,” she said, softly, then, with great reluctance, she pulled back. Giving Grace the most reassuring smile that she could muster. “I’ll see you soon.”

Grace nodded, and began to head to the exit, pulling her coat tighter around her, key clutched in her gloved palm.

With a deep breath, Lucy turned around, and began to walk towards where she suspected Sabini would be: the fancy dining room near the top of the stairs. She spotted his pristine gray suit through the windows, talking with his assistant with a hushed, likely agitated voice. No point being subtle, or quiet. She needed the information and she needed it now.

Slamming the doors open she stalked up behind the two men. Sabini’s assistant spotted her first, and began to rise from his seat. Before he could even get half up, she punched him in the throat, as hard as she could. Sputtering and choking, he fell to his knees. And then she descended on Sabini from behind, grabbing him by the back of the neck and slamming his head into the table so hard the silverware clattered. Twisting one of his arms behind his back, she put enough strain on the bone to let him know that she meant business.

“So sorry for this interruption, ladies and gentlemen, but this will only take a moment,” she announced with a flashing smile to the other patrons in the dining room. “Where’s Tommy Shelby, Sabini?”

“Get the fuck off me you–”

She cut him off by putting a little more strain on his arm. “Just a little more pressure, Mr. Sabini, and I break your arm. Bad enough that you’ll probably need a sling for at least two weeks, maybe more. And I doubt that you want to have to go around town explaining to everyone how a tiny little woman broke your arm practically in two. So please, answer my fucking question. Tommy had a meeting with you, after which none of our people have seen him, so where. Is. He?”

His assistant was still coughing, doubled over on the floor. The room was silent.

Sabini let out a laugh into the tablecloth. “The fucking coppers took him.”

“Took him where?”

“I don’t fucking know! They took him outside, that’s all any of us saw.”

“Your coppers?”

“No, all my useless fucking officers are gathered around the king.”

“Hm,” Lucy frowned. “Stay still if you now what’s fucking good for you,” she barked at Sabini’s assistant, who had been trying to subtly reach into his inner pocket. Probably for a gun. He went still, but she kept an eye on him just in case. Raising her voice so that the rest of the crowd in the room could hear, she called out, “if anyone else here saw anything of interest, I suggest you speak up now. Because if I find out later that any of you kept something pertinent from me, I will find you,” she glanced around, listening to the silence. “No one?”

“They put him in a truck,” a man from the back blurted out.

“What truck?” Lucy asked, head cocked. The man shrugged.

“I don’t know…it was black. Didn’t have any markings on it.”

Shit. Sabini started to laugh. “You and your boss are done, you little fucking Gypsy slut–arghhhhhhhhhhh!” the scream that Sabini let out as she snapped his arm was almost louder than the crack. She tossed him to the floor. Straightening, she reached into her pocket and tossed a coin across the room to the man who had spoken up.

“Thanks.”

And then she swept out the room in a whirl of her black coat and red curls.

∗ ∗ ∗

The grave stared back at him, yawning and open and endless. Tommy stared at it with a combination of longing and disdain. He supposed that at least a part of him had always hoped for a funeral by fire. Not because he was traditional, but because the idea of being sealed in under the ground for the rest of eternity made his skin crawl.

Tearing his eyes away from the grave, he looked around, at the patch of dirt surrounding them, and the field beyond. He wondered if anyone would ever find him, or if he would be missing forever. Lost.

No, Lucy would find him, eventually. She would never stop until she had. Maybe she would dig him up, free him of the dirt one last time and burn him like he wanted. He could see her already, crying and shaking and digging frantically, as if she dug fast enough, she could bring him back to life.

He wondered if Grace would be with her. Watching from the car, perhaps. Or maybe with the news of his death, she would go off, be with her husband. Tell the lie that he had already suggested she tell. His child would grow up never knowing who their real father was.

Perhaps selfishly, he wished that they would stay together. Grace would be okay, he supposed. She had her husband and other family. Lucy didn’t have anyone. He was all she had; he knew that. It had always been a worry of his; what would happen to her without him. Maybe she’d bonded enough with May that she would be willing to take her in. Or she and Grace could go off together. With his child. That way, there would at least be a small piece of him still with them.

Swallowing hard, Tommy glanced at the three men tasked with delivering him to hell. “Were any of you boys in France?” he asked. None of them answered. “Allow a man a cigarette?” he wasn’t going to fight them, or make things difficult. There was no point, anymore.

“La Somme. Blackwoods,” one of them said.

“The Somme. The bulge,” Tommy said. The man nodded in permission.

“Smoke.”

He pulled his cigarettes from his pocket, placing one between his lips. Then pulled out his matches, shaking his head. “So fucking close,” he whispered, lighting a match and raising it to his cigarette. “So fucking close,” he said, to the man closest to him. He turned his back on the grave, unable to stomach looking at it anymore, tiling his head up to the sky and closing his eyes. “Oh, and there’s a woman. Yeah. A woman…who I love,” red curls, and green eyes flashing behind his closed eyelids. And another woman. Who I also love, he added silently in his head. Blonde hair and dimpled cheeks when she smiled…he saw them plain as day. Maybe he really could have had them both. Just him, his girls, and their baby. All four of them together. He wanted to cry. “And I got close,” he opened his eyes. “Nearly got fucking everything!” he shouted the last two words to the sky in anguish.

Behind him, he could hear a gun cock. Tommy closed his eyes, letting his head drop, taking a drag of his cigarette, he turned back around to face that infernal hole in the ground. “Oh, what the fuck,” he muttered, taking one final, drag from his cigarette and throwing it to the ground. None of it would all matter in a minute or two, anyway. “Get it done, boys,” he walked to the edge of the hole, pulled out his pocket watch and dropped it in.

“Comrade, we have our orders,” the one who’d given him permission to smoke said. “You know how it is.”

“I know how it is,” he acknowledged. One of them pushed him to his knees, and all three aimed their guns at his head. Tommy closed his eyes, and prepared for the deep, forever peace of death to take him. “In the bleak midwinter.”

A foot suddenly pressed into his shoulder, pushing him sideways and into the grave, and there was a crack of two gunshots, in quick succession, going off. Tommy curled in on himself, hands held up to his head in a protective instinct. One of the men fell to the ground, but the other slid into the hole with him, face down, the back of his head a mess of blood and splattered brains.

The gunfire had barely even ceased sounding, and the third man, the one who had shoved him into the hole, was speaking. “At some point in the near future Mr. Churchill will want to speak with you in person, Mr. Shelby,” he still had his gun half raised at Tommy. “He has a job for you. We will be in touch.”

Tommy just stared up at him, truly speechless, still laying in the grave that had been meant for him.

“Get out of the grave, you tinker!” the man said when Tommy didn’t move. “Be on your fucking way.”

Staggering, struggling slightly, Tommy managed to heave himself out of the hole, stumbling to his feet. He stared for only a moment more before he began to walk away.

He tripped, landing face first into the dirt, crouching in it, grabbing fistfuls of the stuff, pounding his hands into the ground, screaming, and sobbing. “Fuck!” he managed to haul himself to his feet, still sobbing. His face crumbled with his tears the remainder of the walk, hands shaking, lips wobbling as they pressed together. Only crying harder as he realized just how ready he had been to die.

∗ ∗ ∗

“Is there a Miss. Lucy Winters here?” shouted a voice. Lucy looked up from where she’d been leaning against the bar, not drinking her whiskey, but instead just staring at it blankly, trying to puzzle out just where those coppers, or whoever they were, had taken Tommy. She’d continued to ask around, practically begging anyone she bumped into for information about a black, unmarked truck. No one had seen anything.

“That’s me,” she said, raising a hand, as if she were in class and just had her name called.

“There’s a telephone call for you,” the man in the doorway said. Lucy nodded, downing the remainder of her drink and heading to the booths where the phones were.

“We’ll be closing soon, miss,” the bartender said. Nodding, she absentmindedly tossed enough money down to pay her tab. Most people had already left the races, leaving only a few handfuls of patrons and mostly workers milling about. The man who had told her about the phone call gestured to one of the booths, and she picked up the phone.

“Thank you,” she dismissed him. Taking a deep breath, preparing herself for the worst, she raised the phone to her ear.

“Hello?”

“Lucy?”

“Tommy,” she almost sagged with relief. “Tommy, where are you? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” he cleared his throat. “I’m…at a phone booth right now. Can you have one of the boys come and get me?”

“Yeah, yeah, one moment,” she pulled out a pen and the notebook she kept in her pocket. “Okay, go,” she scrawled down the address he gave her. “What happened?”

“I got picked up by some men I’m assuming Campbell hired. One of them was working for Churchill. He let me go.”

“I see.”

“I’ll talk to you more about it when I get back.”

“Okay. I’ll see you soon.”

“Yeah. Wait, Lucy, is Grace still there?”

“I sent her to wait at my flat when it became clear that we couldn’t find you,” she said. “She’s safe.”

“Okay, good. Good. Thank you. I’ll see you soon.”

“Bye,” she listened as the phone went dead, slumping backwards into the side of the booth, raising a hand to her eyes, breaths shaky.

∗ ∗ ∗

She winced at the way that the car screeched to a halt. Tommy was leaning against a red phone booth, smoking with his brows raised, blue eyes somewhat horrified as he’d watched her drive chaotically towards him down the road.

“Hi,” she smiled at him from behind the wheel.

“Dear God,” was all he said.

“It wasn’t that bad.”

“Love,” he took a step forward. “You just very strongly reinforced my reasoning for why I never, ever let you drive.”

She blew a raspberry at him. “Well, all the boys had left Epsom already by the time you called, so it was either me or you walk back to Birmingham.”

“Please tell me that you didn't run over anyone on the way here.”

“I’m not that bad!”

He gave her a look. “Scoot.”

She huffed. “Spoilsport,” she began to scoot over so he could get in the driver’s seat. “I did break Sabini’s arm though.”

“You what?”

“I was trying to find out where you’d gone! And he was being very nasty.”

“...Did he scream?” Tommy asked. Lucy grinned.

“Like a little baby.”

Something in Tommy’s smile wavered, turning his face away as he closed the door and started up the car again. Lucy leaned forward, wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing his cheek.

“I’m glad you’re okay. I was worried.”

He shot her a weak smile. “Sorry. I’m alright.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah.”

She lit a cigarette, letting her arm dangle out the window as they began the drive back home. “So what’s this big secret that you and Grace have been keeping from me all day?” she asked, as nonchalantly as she could manage. Tommy tensed beside her, wiping at his eyes, wetting his lips. “Tommy?” she asked, beginning to grow more nervous.

“Grace is pregnant,” he said, not looking at her.

Lucy just stared at him in disbelief, feeling as though all the air had been punched from her lungs. She swallowed once, twice. Her hands had started to tremble.

“Yours?” she managed to choke out the question. Tommy nodded.

“Yes.”

“Oh,” was all she said, and looked down at her lap. Blinking her eyes open wide, to try to keep herself from crying. Well, fuck. Fuck. She supposed that was that, then. It was all over. He would go off with Grace and their child…begin their life together as a real family. She doubted that would involve keeping a concubine. Even though she’d do it, she realized. If they asked her to.

It didn’t matter. So she forced the thought away. No point in hoping for an offer that would never, ever come. Surely there would be no room for her there. Neither of them would probably want her anymore.

“Hey,” she forced herself to smile, nudging him like she would normally. Despite the fact that it felt as though her heart was being torn viciously and hastily from her chest. “Congratulations.”

Tommy shot her a nervous smile. “We didn’t have much of a chance to talk about it after she told me.”

“Ah, you’ll be fine,” she said, fully believing it. He and Grace would be good for one another. And they loved each other. Tommy would come up with some solution, regarding the husband. It would all work out. When Tommy wanted something to happen, he could all but will it into existence.

Fuck, she was going to miss him so, so much. She turned her head away again, feigning glancing out the window to hide the tears gleaming in her eyes before she managed to force them back.

“Lucy…” he started to say.

“Don’t worry about it,” she said, before he could continue. She didn’t think that she could handle actually having to listen to him break up with her. It would probably shatter her in half.

God, it was only just more salt in the wound that it had to be a pregnancy that drove them apart. The one thing that she could never give him. Not that he even knew that. She supposed, if she were looking for some silver lining in the whole thing, it would be that she was finally free of the obligation to tell him that little piece of information, hanging over their relationship like the blade of a guillotine all this time. She’d always figured it would be that which would do them in. Maybe, in a way, she’d been right.

“I just think that we should talk about–”

“You should probably talk with Grace first. Before anything else,” she said, hoping that would dissuade him from continuing with what she was already certain he was going to say.

Tommy’s hand reached out to take hers, thumb stroking along the skin of her knuckles. Lucy stared down at it with longing desperation. It all made sense, then. The way he’d kept looking at her all day, touching her hand…telling her that he loved her. He’d known that their time together was coming to a close. That he was going to choose Grace. Because of course he was. She was having his child. He loved her. It was what made sense. Lucy needed to begin to let him go. To let them both go.

And yet, for the remainder of the ride home, she did not let go of his hand.

∗ ∗ ∗

Lucy followed Tommy and Michael dejectedly into the office. Tommy had wanted to swing by before heading to her apartment, to check if he had won his bet with Polly over whether Michael would stay or not.

Leaning against the doorframe, she watched him wistfully. She still felt raw, over everything, and really just wanted to go off to some place on her own so that she could have a good cry over the death of the only love she’d ever really known. Tommy poured three glasses of whiskey for them and she finally forced herself to travel deeper into his office, taking the glass he offered her, greatly needing it.

Perhaps what hurt even more was that Tommy seemed so…nonchalant about it. Like it didn’t cause him any sort of distress at all that their relationship was over. It wasn’t like she’d expected him to be weeping on the floor or anything, but a little more solemness would have been nice.

Maybe she really had been nothing more than a hole for him to fuck all these years.

Tommy raised his glass, and clinked it with Michael, then with her. She could feel his eyes on her as she swallowed the amber liquid down. He kept looking at her strangely, like he was trying to puzzle something out. He sat down in his chair, eyes tired as he leaned back in it.

“I’ve got some ideas, Michael. For the future of the company. And also…I’m planning on getting married.”

When her eyes darted up to him, he was smiling at the ceiling. She felt her shoulders slump, but did her best to mask it. Tommy was having a baby with and planning on getting married to the woman he loved. She needed to be happy for him. For both of them. Even if she still loved them. Even if she couldn’t be a part of their relationship anymore.

Looking down, she picked at a flake of bright red nail polish, and tried to hide away the agonized feeling of her heart breaking.

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