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[dr-juliaogden]

“I see you looking because I am looking back”

bestie this fic has me PASSING AWAY

there is not nearly enough violet content out there so thank you so much for contributing to it especially with a fic like this! i loved every word and came to find it again after reading it once already on ao3!

Out of Sight

Violet Bridgerton X Fem!Reader 🔞

💜 As one of her handmaids, you've always had a soft spot for Lady Bridgerton. It isn't until one day that she calls for you to stay back to you realise that these feelings are requited. 💜

WC: 1.5k+ words

masterlist • read on ao3 • request

A/N: I feed myself 🫡 this is the first work on this blog so I hope y'all enjoy! Nothing particularly explicit yet but I'm sure we'll get there 😄

Violet Bridgerton is most beautiful woman you've ever lain eyes upon. The thought crosses your mind every morning as you wake and assist the lady of the house. You can't help but steal glances as you lace up her corset or do her hair.

Sometimes she will catch your eye in the mirror and her smile makes your heart skip a beat.

She's wonderful and gorgeous and ever so kind.

Today, however, feels a little different. The air is warm and Violet is agitated. She won't stay still. Your fingers brush the back of her neck and she flinches as if scorched by blazing coals. You try to apologise but she's already moving away, turning towards the open window, half dressed.

"Leave me," she says briskly.

And you, like the all the others, dip your head in respect and turn toward the door.

"Except (Y/N)." Her addition catches you by surprise. "You... stay."

You turn back around, quickly hiding your surprise at her singling you out. The other servants leave the room, a few with some odd side glances at you, and then the room is empty except the two of you. Silence echoes between you, broken only by the sound of her heavy breathing.

"Lady Bridgerton? Are you most alright?"

This isn't like her. Something is off, you can tell.

Violet doesn't say anything but continues to stare out the window. With the sunlight gracing her cheeks and a gentle breeze blowing her hair, she's a vision in the early morning. You swallow nervously.

"Come," Violet finally says, completely ignoring your concern. "Stand with me."

You obediently cross the room to stand beside your lady. You curiously peer out the window into the gardens of the Bridgerton household. It's a beautiful place, truly, positively glowing in the sun. But more specifically, your gaze falls upon an unsuspecting couple.

A maid and a footman, it looks like, walking through the foliage together. They're laughing, hand in hand. Stealing a moment alone.

"My lady...?" you glance towards her.

It isn't a question exactly but a prompt. She doesn't seem angery. And yet she burns next to you as if alight.

You can't quite read her expression but you can feel the tension starting to rise. You are several feet apart and yet it feels like you are inches apart. The air is warm and it isn't the morning sun.

When she finally turns to meet your gaze, your face is red hot.

"(Y/N)..." she says softly.

You love how she says your name with such a gentle, affectionate tone. She looks at you with burning eyes.

"Yes, my lady?" you breathe.

She looks back down at the couple and you watch as they steal a kiss under the shade of a tree. Quick, fleeting, and yet it feels like it lasts a lifetime. What is happening here? Why has she asked you stay and watch with her? You don't know but you don't want to break the moment.

"Come closer."

You can't deny her. You close the distance but yet it doesn't feel like enough. She says nothing until you stand side by side with her. A slight lean and your arms would brush. But that's a boundary you yourself cannot cross, no matter how much you want to. It wouldn't do to act so familiar with the lady of the house.

"Is it wrong?" Violet asks.

"Is what wrong, Lady Bridgerton?"

Violet gestures below to where the couple have disappeared together. You can only imagine what they're getting up to together, hidden in the garden, out of prying eyes. Stealing kisses where people cannot see, maybe more. You don't understand her question or what she wants you to say.

Or maybe you do, but you can't say it.

"It's been a while since Ed-Edmund..." Her eyes close when she says his name. "And at first, I... I never believed I would desire another as I did him."

Oh.

Anything you want or could say catches in your throat as you peek a look at her. To your utter surprise, she's staring right at you. You turn away from the window and in towards her, face burning.

"Never would I have thought myself familiar enough to find those feelings again. I thought it died with him," she continues. "What man would be close enough to the widow of a household to create such desire within me?"

She's standing unbearably close to you. And she shifts forward, this time intentionally entering your space. The windowsill presses against your back but you can only feel her. She isn't touching you yet but you can feel her presence as if she's right against you. Warmth bursts in your chest and spreads through your entire body. It would be so easy to extend a hand and close the gap.

But it isn't your move to make.

She looks at you with dark eyes and parted lips.

"A man... no, not quite." It isn't quite directed at you but more at herself as if she's trying to understand it. "But... someone who spends every waking moment with you, who takes care of you, who understands and looks when she thinks I do not see."

"My lady-" Your head is spinning. "I-I... I hope I did not offend. I swear, I... You are so beautiful. I only look... because I cannot look away."

And she smiles.

"Oh, (Y/N). Please..."

You watch as she raises her hand and as if in slow motion, she touches your cheek. She has the soft hands of a noble with gentle fingertips and a warm palm. She brushes your cheek.

"I see you looking," she murmurs. "because I am looking back."

When she leans in, you don't stop her because you don't want to stop her. She catches your mouth with her own in a heated kiss and everything shatters around you. She breathes you in like fresh air. And you cannot help yourself.

With the physical barrier broken between you, you take the front of her dress and pull her against you. You collide in a kiss of pure want, burning and hot, soft lips giving way to a slip of tongue, hands finding their way into your hair. She kisses you like a woman parched.

"The window," you gasp against her lips, and she understands what you mean.

You two cannot be seen like this together, regardless of the desires of the lady of the house. So she catches your wrist and tugs you back into the room, managing not to break the kiss. You stumble together back out of the sunlight and into the shelter of her room. Hands tug at your waist. Guide you back. Until her bed is beside you.

Do you understand what is happening? Not exactly but you can't stop.

You kiss and kiss her until the air has been stolen from your lungs. Kissing Violet Bridgerton is a dream come reality and it is dizzying.

You two fall onto the bed in each other's arms and the sheets are a soft cushion underneath. When you finally pull away for air, she lies underneath you, panting.

"My lady... I..."

"Violet. When we are alone," she breathes.

"Violet..." Such familiarity, it's scandalous. Saying her name makes your heart skip a beat because it tells you exactly what she wants.

You kiss her neck, the underside of her jaw, along her exposed collarbone. You breathe in her scent, taste her skin, and it only leaves you wanting more.

Your hands touch her lightly and you lean back. "La- Violet. May I?"

She nods breathlessly.

You have dressed her many mornings and undressed her those nights. It's only too easy for you to help her out of the fancy clothes of nobles. You have seen her in states of undress countless times but this time is vividly different. She lies sprawled between pillows for you and you alone. No one else but her late husband will have seen her like this but you. That idea is dizzying. But viciously hot.

She helps you out of your simpler clothes and then her hands are on you. Shy touches over your bare arms, up your back, as if she doesn't dare to touch you anywhere else. Or she doesn't know how.

Despite the desire painted all over her face, she hesitates still. And you know you'll have to be the one to move forward.

"Violet," you murmurs. "It's alright, you can touch me..."

You bring her hand to your chest and she gasps. The way she blushes is beautiful. But with your encouragement, she touches you with more confidence. Her eyes brighten when you moan. You dip down and kiss her again.

It's slow and exploratory, the two of you taking the time to become acquainted with each other's bodies. You find she's sensitive and shy with making noise. It just makes her moaning even better. She likes when you let your nails lightly scrape against her scalp, press into her back, the very feeling of being touched and desired.

She like when you say her name into her ear, be it a needy whisper or a seductive murmur. It would be rare for a lady for the ton to be called by her given name, after all. But you say it over and over in breathless want.

Surely the rest of the household must be wondering where Lady Bridgerton is; it isn't like her rise late. But the two of you could hardly care, not as you're lost in each other.

[dr-juliaogden]

if you’re white and wanna write a poc character and feel awkward about it i implore you to ignore any twitblr stuff treating it as a massive ethical burden and instead come in more with the same mindset you’d have if you wanted to write about idk firefighters but didn’t know anything about firefighters so you do... research. Like fuck off with the weird kinda creepy calls for spiritual introspection you’re not writing about god damn space aliens you’re writing about humans and if you think you need more perspective of different life experiences just read?

[dr-juliaogden]

THIS WAS SO CUTE TO BETW THE FIRST LINE IS STILL MY FAV 💀

just a twisted ankle | newt

PAIRING – newt x fem!reader

REQUEST – @heliads - hi monty!! saw you wanted some newt requests so i simply could not hold back. could i please request a newt x reader fic in which newt and reader are both track-hoes and obviously in love with each other but pining in silence? alby and minho are doing their best to get them together but they're both excruciatingly oblivious lmao. thank you so much!!

SUMMARY – you and an overly protective newt are in love. the only problem seems to be that everyone but you and him are aware of it.

WARNINGS – weird behavior, obliviousness, fluff, semi-crack?, friends to lovers, minor injury

WORD COUNT – 3,031

NOTES – AAAA this has been in my requests for forever and i’m just now writing it?? i absolutely loved writing this and a big big thanks to @shmaptainwrites for being my lovely beta reader!

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There were very few downsides to being a Track-hoe. You enjoyed being outdoors all day, breathing in the fresh air and the amazing smell of fresh plants, chatting with your fellow track-hoes and generally enjoying yourself. 

The main issue you had was the dirt. 

Sure, it was essential to your job, but it was the worst possible thing about it. You didn’t even mind the sweat and aching muscles most of the time, because that just meant a job well done. But the dirt? If you could plant and grow things without it, you would. The way it stuck to your clothes, your skin. How it buried itself into your pores and underneath your fingernails and took forever to scrub off your skin. 

The biggest upside, however, was Newt. 

You’d been here almost 2 years, and he was quite possibly your favorite person in the Glade. He was the first person besides Alby to reach out and connect with you, not really caring or fearing the fact that you were, and still are, the only girl. Minho was the second person to do the same. 

Newt, over time, had become your biggest confidant about almost everything. You spent pretty much all of your spare time with him, and he with you. After long days, you’d take the time after dinner to walk around the Glade. Sometimes you’d talk, and sometimes you’d just enjoy one another’s presence. Everyone knew not to mess with you, and the Greenies that didn’t usually learned their lesson pretty quickly. 

You liked to call him your protector with a smile, mostly because he’d always flush bright red at the compliment. 

It’d been a few days since the box came up, and the newest Greenie, Jason, was still getting his bearings around the Glade. He’d only learned his name yesterday, and that was after he threw up watching Winston show him how the slicers do their jobs. Today, he was with you and the other Track-hoes. 

He’d been mostly hovering near Zart and Newt, who were showing him the ropes. You, however, caught him glancing over at you a few too many times. It was normal for a Greenie, and for you, since you were the only girl. But it didn’t stop you from feeling slightly uncomfortable. 

Jason had been staring at you — as Zart was showing him how to de-weed the vegetables — until Newt clapped him on the shoulder. Faintly, you could hear them talking. 

“Stop staring, mate. Focus on the job.” Newt said, his tone laced with that all-too-familiar protectiveness. It made you smile, the way his eyes pierced into Jason’s and struck him with a fear he seemed to make all the Greenies feel when it came to you. 

After a while, you felt Jason resume his staring, even after Newt’s ‘warning’. You knew that he’d learn sooner or later, you just hoped it was the latter. While you were digging up some carrots, knowing it would take you forever to clean under your fingernails before dinner, Newt’s shadow blocked your view of the sun, forcing you to look up at him.

“Come on,” he nodded to the deadheads. “Zart said we need more fertilizer.” 

Extending a hand upward, Newt pulled you to your feet before handing you the second bucket. As you departed from the gardens, you swung the empty bucket and sighed. “I don’t know why he never just sends one of us. There’s no way this is a two person job.” 

“I’ve stopped questioning Zart,” Newt shrugged. “He’s the Keeper, what he says, goes. That’s all.”

Contemplating Newt’s words, you looked up at the leaves for a moment and tripped on a root. Newt barely caught you as you lurched forward, both buckets landing on the forest floor. “Besides, I think if you tried to do this yourself, you’d trip and break your neck.” 

“Well,” you exaggerated a sigh, “can’t have that, can we?”

Newt shook his head, grabbing the buckets. “No, we can’t.” 

After making it to the fertilizer pile and back with no further injury, the day carried on as normal. Newt and Zart continued training and carefully watching the Greenie to see if he was exactly up for the job of Track-hoe. 

By the time the dinner bell rang, you were exhausted. You felt like this most days, but today you had to devote more energy than usual on making sure the Greenie wasn’t staring at you as if you’d solve all of his problems just by talking to him. 

You and Newt took off at the same time, chatting about the Greenie and whether he was good for the Track-hoes or not. “I hope not,” you groaned. “He keeps staring at me. He’d spend more time looking at me than doing his actual job if he got put with us.”

“I know,” Newt chuckled. “I spent the day with the poor shank. You have no idea how many times I had to divert his attention back to his work, it was unbelievable.”

You shook your head. “Trust me, I know. I could feel him staring at me all damn day.” 

The dining hall was already pretty full of Gladers, milling about or grabbing food or sitting down. Quickly, you could smell Frypan’s beef stew wafting from the pots on the table. Your stomach suddenly felt empty, and you couldn’t wait to pour yourself a bowl. You and Newt moved in tandem, pouring out soups into your own bowls from ladles hooked on the edge of the metal pots and grabbing cups of water from the table beside you. 

Minho was already sitting at your usual table, peacefully eating his soup amid the usual chaos. Joining him, you and Newt sat across from him, digging into your food. Minho usually ate in silence, with the exception of joking around when the others got to the table, so you didn’t mind listening to the din of the conversations happening around you for a little while.

Soon, Frypan joined Minho’s side of the table, already boasting about how well received the stew was. Just as he was about to ask how everyone liked it, and as you were spooning more into your mouth, Jason approached your and Minho’s end of the table. 

“Hi.” He said, entire body stiff, as if unclenching his muscles would make him disappear. 

“...Hello?” You replied. “Is there something you need, Greenie?”

Jason laughed, but it sounded more like he was choking. “No, no. I just— I, um, I was wondering—”

“Cool it, slinthead,” Minho interrupted. “You’re not going to get anywhere with Y/n, here. She and Newt are practically married, even if they don’t know they are.”

With a disgruntled air around him, Jason admitted defeat and left the table to go find somewhere to eat his dinner. 

You furrowed your brows at Minho. “Me and Newt aren’t married, what the shuck was that all about?”

As if things couldn’t get worse, Gally stepped up to the table on Newt’s other side. “Are we talking about you and Newt? Have you finally gotten your clunk together and started dating? Because I’ve been waiting for this for almost two years.” 

“Nah,” Frypan said. “They’re too scared to admit something like that, Gally. You know that.” 

“Yeah, and it’s getting on all of our nerves.” Minho said. “It irritates me more than the Newbies do.”

“Could you stop talking about us like we’re not here?” Newt snapped. “It’s really annoying.” 

The group exchanged looks and you couldn’t help but smile. The rest of the dinner passed, and soon Alby joined you at Frypan’s side. The conversation flowed, as per usual, and you were able to let go of the pain your joints carried as you went back for a second helping and relaxed with your friends until sundown. 

It was no surprise that Newt left when you did in order to walk you back to your room in the Homestead, where he bid you goodnight and headed to his own just down the hall. Just as he reached the door, though, he turned back and walked over to you. 

“Just letting you know,” he began, “The Greenie’s staying on as a track-hoe tomorrow. Alby doesn’t want him doing a trial as a Medjack just yet. But I won’t be there either. Me and Gally have to be in the council hall tomorrow to talk with some of the other Keepers about scheduling. Stay safe, please.” 

You giggled. “Don’t worry, Newt, I’ll be just fine. The most that Greenie’s gonna do is stare at me, and I can’t die from something like that. Plus, I’ll have Zart and the other Track-hoes with me for the day.”

He sighed, almost reluctant to go most of the day without you. “I’ll see you at breakfast then?”

“Yes, you will.” You nodded. “And dinner. Now go to sleep, Newt.” 

With another goodnight, you and Newt headed into your respective rooms to settle in and go to bed, an unusual day ahead of you.

Despite waking up and starting your day with Newt as you usually would, it felt odd to split from him after Frypan served breakfast. It felt odd to not turn to him for casual conversation as you de-weeded the tomatoes and harvested carrots for tonight’s dinner — some sort of fried rice, you remember Frypan telling you at dinner last night. 

Your day passed in relative silence aside from occasional chatter with the track-hoes or receiving orders from Zart. You avoided Jason as best as you could, and it seemed his embarrassment from last night still lingered as he was determined to stay on the opposite side of the field, despite still staring at you when he got the chance. 

Sometime near the end of the day, you’d run out of fertilizer, and as usual Zart had sent you with both buckets to refill them. The trek was definitely boring without Newt to talk to, but you managed to fill both buckets and head most of the way back without incident, injury, or going crazy in the silence of the deadheads. 

However, your luck was bound to run out at some point. 

Just as the rays of sunshine were poking out from the field ahead, you tripped on a particularly large tree root sticking out of the ground. Both buckets flung from your hands as you stuck them out, attempting to break your own fall. Pain radiated from your ankle, palms, and wrists as you landed harshly on the ground, staining your clothes and skin with dirt. 

After you processed what happened and pulled yourself up, you first inspected your palms. Wiping away the dirt, several scrapes and cuts revealed themselves, accompanied by irritated and angry skin surrounding them. Taking a moment to catch your breath, you tried your best to stand, but crumbled when you put weight on your right foot. 

Hissing, you pulled up your pant leg and tried to touch around the area, only bringing yourself more pain as you did so. Figuring out how to get out of here was going to be difficult, especially without abandoning the buckets of fertilizer. After some time, you managed to find a particularly large stick to support the weight you would’ve put on your injured foot, hooked one bucket handle on the crook of your elbow, and took the other in your free hand. 

As best as you could manage, you brought the fertilizer to Zart, who quickly took notice of your condition. 

“What the shuck happened to you?!” He exclaimed as you shifted your weight. 

Looking down at your foot, you sighed. “A large tree root got the jump on me, Zart. Now will you please help me to the Medjacks so I don’t have to use this shucking stick anymore?”

Almost jumping into action, Zart wrapped an arm around your torso and pulled your right one around his neck, helping you along to the other side of the Glade. You were beginning to see now why he usually sent Newt with you. 

Upon reaching the Medjack hut, Clint and Jeff took over for Zart, ushering him away to get back to work. You were grateful for the Medjacks and the care they seemed to take with you. They made sure it was relatively painless for you as Clint examined your ankle and Jeff cleaned the cuts on your palms, keeping casual conversation with you as they did so. 

It was only as Clint was wrapping your ankle — Jeff already having done so with the heels of your palms — that Newt came barrelling into the room. 

“We were wondering where you were,” Jeff quipped as he put away the roll of gauze he’d just used. 

Newt ignored the other two people in the room and came to sit on the edge of your bed. “What the bloody hell happened to you?”

“It’s not like I almost died, Newt.” You told him, but let him take your hands into his to look at. “I was getting the fertilizer from the deadheads and tripped on a root. It’s nothing more than a twisted ankle, I promise.”

“You promised you’d be fine today without me.” Newt corrected you, and you couldn’t help but chuckle. 

“And I was. I just lost my footing to a root. I’ll be back up and running in a few days. Right, Clint?”

The boy at the end of the bed nodded, taping the tensor bandages into place. “Exactly. After three days of no work and constant elevation, you’ll be just fine.”

Newt looked back at the boy. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, I am.” Clint said. “I’ll even have Jeff come check up on her twice a day to make sure her foot heals. Okay?”

Newt considered Clint’s words for a moment before nodding. “Alright.” 

Soon enough, the Medjack’s left you and Newt alone in the treatment room. It was silent, and Newt still held your bandaged hands in his, not daring to say a word. 

“Are you okay?” You asked eventually, feeling that you’d studied the boy’s face enough to gather that he was still deeply upset and in thought. 

Newt’s eyes snapped from your hands to make eye contact with you, and you could see the emotion pooling in his dark irises. “I dunno. I know it’s stupid, you’ll be fine, but… you were hurt. On the one day I wasn’t there with you.”

Turning your hands over in his, you grabbed his palms and squeezed. “But I’ll be fine, Newt. Look, I’m still healthy, aren’t I? Breathing, talking. That’s what matters. And it’s not your fault, it was just a silly accident.” 

“I know, I just… the thought of you getting hurt makes me want to go crazy.” Newt admitted. “You being safe is all I care about.” 

Your heart stuttered in your chest as your face warmed. “I… I didn’t know it meant that much to you.” 

“You do.” Newt stated. “You mean that much to me.” 

“Newt…” you whispered. “I think those slintheads were right.”

His face scrunched up. “What d’you mean?”

“I think… I think I like you. A lot more than I realized.” You gathered more courage with every word you spoke. “Newt… I think I’m in love with you.” 

You watched his eyes widen as you spoke, hands still interlocked. Newt seemed to be stunned by your impromptu confession, and even you were surprised by it. Up until ten seconds ago, you were unaware of how big your feelings for Newt were, but now that they were out in the open, it was easy to see as you looked back on things. Your thoughts ran at a hundred miles a second, flashing with the memories you made with Newt and how close you’d gotten over the past few years.  

It took you a second to pull away from the memories and realize that Newt had yet to respond. 

“Newt?” You called out, trying to get his attention. “I shouldn’t have said anything. Look, we don’t have to do anything about it, we can forget it ever happened—”

“No.” Newt interrupted. “I don’t want to do that.” He adjusted his grip on your hands, stroking your knuckles with his thumbs. “I… I love you, too. I think I have from the moment I met you.” 

Your lips stretched into a wide, blissful smile, and Newt’s expression soon matched yours. Slowly, he leaned in closer to you, shortening the distance until his lips were inches from yours. 

“Can I kiss you?” He whispered.

“I’d like nothing more,” you told him, and in seconds, his lips were on yours and your hand was touching the back of his neck and you were both in a state of bliss you could only dream of until now. 

You spent the next few hours with Newt, who sat next to you on the bed with an arm around your shoulders, talking mostly about how you both failed to notice your feelings toward each other for so long, occasionally disrupted by mini-makeouts. When the dinner bell rang, Newt promised to explain your injury to your friends and bring dinner for you both to eat in the Medjack hut. 

When Newt came back, two steaming bowls of chicken rice in hand, the blush on his face was unmistakable. 

“What happened?” You laughed as he passed you the bowl and sat on the bed. “What did they say to you?”’

“They didn’t say anything.” Newt corrected you. “They heard about my hauling ass across the Glade to get here from the council hall, that’s what. And they basically figured us out.” 

“Really?” You fake gasped. “It’s like they’ve been trying to tell us about this for the past two years or something.”

“Ha, ha,” Newt rolled his eyes. “Eat your rice. After you’re finished, I’ve got to take you to the Homestead.” 

“My hero,” you smiled, and Newt couldn’t help but to kiss you once more before you both dug into your meals. 

Once your ankle was healed, it was no surprise the uproar your friends caused when you were finally able to walk to breakfast hand in hand with Newt. After all, they had been waiting years for this.

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[dr-juliaogden]

Playing Along - Part 1

Prompt: “Just play along, please” inspired this multiple part fic, in which agent Galahad and Kay are on a mission together in the French Alps. Here, they have to pretend to be a couple, despite the two of them being rivals and Kay always wanting to beat him at everything. Pairing: Harry Hart x Kingsman!Reader Fandom: Kingsman Tags/Warnings: fake dating, slowburn, rivals Word count: 2347

Harry and you have been sent on a mission together. While most of it is supposed to be gathering intelligence, there is a high-risk of having to kill some criminals to make sure they can’t spread word of your existence any further. Tonight is the first evening at the ski resort. The trip in and of itself wasn’t too eventful, Merlin flew the two of you to the French Alps, where you were picked up by a car and brought to the chalet you’ll be staying in. It is quite cosy, but still comfortable. It has two small bedrooms with a queen sized bed, a nightstand and a closet. You would have to share the bathroom, but that was standard procedure when it came to these sorts of missions. While Harry takes the room on the right, you take the one on the left and start unpacking your luggage. 

From the kitchenette you hear Harry’s voice ‘Tea?’ ‘Yes please.’ You call back out to him. Quickly, you put the last of your clothes in the closet, while you put your other supplies under the bed in their metal briefcase. Before walking to where Harry is, you quickly go into the bathroom and put your bag of toiletries into the cupboard. 

‘Do sit down, Kay.’ Harry motions you to take a seat and pours some tea into your cup. ‘Thank you Galahad,’ you sip your tea, ‘it’s lovely.’ He also takes a drink. ‘I always find a black tea and citrus blend warms one up quite well, especially in this sort of weather.’ His eyes shift to the window, yours following. A lot of snow had fallen the past week or so. ‘The predictions say it’ll start snowing again in two days.’ A surprised sound escapes Harry’s throat. ‘I’d hoped for clear skies, suppose we can’t have everything.’ He says matter of factly. ‘You only go skiing with good weather? I thought a bit of snow wouldn’t stop you.’ The teasing comment earns you a glare. ‘I don’t, however I do prefer some blue skies rather than grey ones that have snow constantly falling out of them.’ The agent scoffs.

Before finishing your tea, the two of you decide to talk through some of the plans for that evening and the upcoming week. ‘So we’re a couple? Or should we go another route with the story?’ He’s quiet for a moment. ‘I think that pretending to be a couple may be the most believable;’ his eyes divert, ‘especially considering that we will probably need to get close to other couples anyway.’ You nod. It wasn’t too unusual for you to play a couple when it came to missions such as this one, though it never went any further than some kisses on the cheek, holding hands, or having an arm around each other. Harry and you got along well enough, but there was always this underlying tension. He has always been favoured by Arthur and Merlin, probably partially because he has been a part of the Kingsman for quite a bit longer than you. Because of this, you always want to beat him, in whichever way possible. It remains unspoken, but you suspect Galahad enjoys it quite a bit. ‘The usual rules?’ You nod again. ‘Kay, you know I need more confirmation than you just nodding.’ ‘Yes, Galahad, the same rules as usual. No kissing on the lips unless absolutely necessary for our cover and no intimacy under any circumstances. Physical contact is to be kept to a minimum, holding hands or putting an arm around the other’s shoulder is fine.’ It was almost robotic as it came out of your mouth. ‘Good.’ He smiles. ‘Now, I was thinking we take the gondola up the mountain tomorrow morning around 9?’ 

The following morning you sat at the kitchen table around 8, a bowl of yoghurt and a cup of tea in front of you. Harry sits on the other side of the table sipping his tea as he waits for his toast. The both of you sit in silence until the both of you finish your breakfast and put on your glasses. ‘Galahad. Kay. Good morning to the both of you.’ Merlin’s voice is quite clear. ‘Morning.’ You mutter before Harry starts talking through the mission. Being more of a night owl meant that the early mornings which came with the job from time to time really weren’t your favourite. Pictures of some people flash before your eyes. ‘These are the targets. You’ll be pretty likely to interact with them either in one of the many ski huts or when you’re eating out in the evening. Try to befriend them in order to gain their trust and information.’ Merlin pauses. ‘So I’d like the both of you to avoid bickering in public.’ Harry looks at you. ‘Yes Merlin, I’ll try my best to not annoy Galahad too much.’ He scoffs. ‘It’s not that you annoy me, it’s just that you can be so incredibly incompetent at times, Kay.’ ‘As if you aren’t Galahad. Remember last year’s Christmas party?’ You retort. 

‘This is exactly what I’m trying to avoid here.’ Merlin interrupts you before you’re able to say anything else. ‘Look, the two of you are meant to be a couple. Act like it.’ The more annoyed the bald man becomes, the thicker his Scottish accent. The instructions were quite clear so you look Galahad in the eye. ‘Time to go skiing?’ Your voice drips in honey.

On the mountain itself, you didn’t speak to Galahad much, only discussing what slopes to take next and what off-piste routes may be of use if necessary. While both of you are quite proficient when it comes to skiing, Harry’s more old school, focussing on making those perfect turns and going at a steady speed. You, on the other hand, tend to show off from time to time, doing jumps or little tricks whenever you pass him. Around noon, you decided to have lunch together at one of the huts. This one had quite the amazing view of the slopes and nature surrounding it.

‘Je prendrai le croque monsieur avec un verre de vin, s'il vous plaît.’ Of course his French was impeccable. ‘Je prendrais les crêpes et un verre de vin, le même que mon ami, s’il vous plaît.’ While you had studied the language for a while, much more than ordering food wasn’t in your cards at the moment. Unlike most members of the Kingsman, or its candidates for that matter, you have not had a private education, meaning that you didn’t get much of an opportunity to learn foreign languages on a higher level. ‘You speak French?’ Harry asks you. ‘Not much, just enough to get by in restaurants and shops. I’d like to study it again in order to improve at some point in the future.’ He smiles. ‘It sounded pretty good, if you want I can teach you a little bit when we get back to the cabin? Before we go out for dinner.’ ‘Sounds good, thanks.’ You smile back. ‘Would you want me to teach you a few tricks in turn?’ Reaching out, he takes hold of your right hand and leans forward. ‘I don’t think I’m the type to learn tricks.’ He pauses and whispers. ‘Now, that couple at 8 o’clock is one of our targets. Let’s keep an eye on them throughout our lunch.’ The food arrives as he says so. He releases your hand and sits up straight once again. ‘Merci.’

The food was pretty good, the wine complimenting it well enough. After finishing, both of you order a cup of tea and sit in silence, enjoying the sun which finally came out from behind the clouds. You lean back in your chair, stretching your legs and closing your eyes for a moment. The cold air feels wonderful against your skin. You hear the chair in front of you move for a moment. Opening only one eye, you see Harry has grabbed a pocket-sized novel from his jacket and has started reading. Quickly, you close your eye again. It was quite comfortable like this, a last moment of rest before you’d have to go socialise and get close to the given targets. The current plan is that before you head back to your cabin, you'll visit an apres ski bar, as it’s likely you’ll meet more of your targets there and may overhear what they’re planning for the upcoming few days. There’s one bar which is particularly popular amongst the targets, so you decided that that would be the place to go that afternoon. But for now, you decided you’d just enjoy the peace and quiet.  After a few minutes, Harry closes his book. ‘I’ll be right back dear.’ You open your eyes and look at him, smile, and nod. You follow his figure with your eyes. It becomes clear that he’s following one of the targets into the bathroom, pretending on having to go himself. As you wait, you slowly drink some more of your tea, silently observing the woman that was with the target just moments before. You take a picture of her with your glasses and send it to Merlin and whisper, ‘Any idea who this is?’ His response is swift. ‘That’s Guilia Fontana. Her father is a quite well known criminal in Italy, I think she tends to be less prominent within his organisation. What’s notable is that she’s recently been spotted multiple times with our target Angelo Bianco, it seems they’re on holiday together.’ Shortly after confirming the information and asking a few more questions, Harry arrives, leaning in to kiss you on the cheek before whispering, ‘Good news, I know where we’ll have dinner tonight.’ You look at him confused. ‘Got a particularly good address from our friend, who’ll be eating there tonight as well.’ He smirks when he pulls away and sits down next to you, his hand resting on your knee. Had he not been a colleague you desperately wanted to beat at everything, you might’ve found this moment of closeness attractive, but considering everything, you were more annoyed that you didn’t discover it before him. ‘And what sort of food do they serve, love?’ The last word came out almost strained.

You spent a couple of more hours on the slopes before heading to the apres ski bar. During that time, Merlin informed you that he’d managed to get the two of you a table at the aforementioned restaurant. It was quite fancy, according to him, and it served mostly french food. 

At the bar, you go get some drinks. While ordering, a man moves to stand next to you. It happens to be the target Galahad had followed earlier in the day, Angelo Bianco. You aren’t too interested in talking to him immediately, but he starts up a conversation with you as you both wait. ‘Good afternoon, I think I talked to your man earlier today. What’s your name?’ ‘I’m Cameron, but you may call me Cam. What’s your name?’ You hold out your hand for him to shake it. ‘Nice to meet you Cam, I’m Angelo.’ He says as he takes it to shake it. ‘Likewise,  Angelo.’ You smile at him. ‘So what’s brought you here to France? Having a nice holiday?’ ‘Ah yes, me and my fiance are here on holiday, some of her family will be coming to join us in a couple of days. What about you?’ This was quite useful information, you’d have to try and stretch this as much as possible. ‘That sounds lovely. Me and my partner are here on a holiday trip as well, though we have quite different skiing styles, so it can be a challenge from time to time.’ He laughs. ‘I know what that’s like, Guilia only wants to take blue and red slopes, rarely is she open to going off the black ones. Park is never really an option either.’ This is perfect. ‘Yeah, Harry isn’t a fan of the parks either. I think it’s a mental thing of not wanting to jump or something. I’d love to check them out though, I’ve heard they’re pretty amazing here.’ Angelo’s eyes light up, exactly what you’d hoped for. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Harry approach as you continue talking to Angelo. ‘Ah hello Harry, how’s it going?’ The bartender finally comes up with your drinks and you quietly pay as the two men talk. ‘Cam and I were just talking about the ski resort and everything it offers. Perhaps we can meet with the four of us at lunch tomorrow, check out the parks afterwards? I heard you guys were new here so we could show you around if you’d like?’ Harry seems to hesitate, so you slightly nudge him with your elbow and join the conversation once again. ‘That’d be lovely Angelo, thank you for the offer. We’d love to have you show us around, maybe Harry and Guilia can watch while we do a few park rounds after lunch? I’ve heard there’s a hut that has a great view of it.’ 

While you secured the supposed “double date”, Harry didn’t look too happy; at least to those who are able to see through his pleasant mannerisms. After excusing yourselves, having had a couple of drinks with Angelo and Guilia, the two of you go outside. Turning a corner, into a dimly lit area, Harry grabs your elbow and angrily whispers, ‘What do you think you’re doing? Inviting us on a double date with some of the most well-connected Italian criminals? This was not a part of the plan Cam.’ The way he pronounced the last sentence was almost venomous. ‘Harry, this is our opportunity to gain more information than expected.’ You whisper back angrily. ‘It’s dangerous.’ He retorts.

‘As if everything else we do isn’t, Galahad. Just play along, please.’ You almost spit out the words before pulling your arm free and walking to your skis. You still had a dinner to attend later that evening after all.

[dr-juliaogden]

ok awesome :) could i please request a james wilson x fem!reader where reader is a young (of age) nurse or intern at the hospital and her and james have been seeing each other but not really labeled it, and she finds out she’s pregnant? maybe her and james are excited but someone at the hospital points out their age gap and james’ failed marriages and is just an asshole about it idk. feel free to write whatever you’d like! thank you so much <3

I DONT CARE,

Fandom: House MD

Pairing: James Wilson x Female Reader

Warnings: pregnancy, age gap (reader is in her 20s, James would be in his 30s/40s), slight angst, divorce, people being assholes, Greg House being Greg House, there’s a little time jump: sorry not sorry.

Notes: you best believe I was quick to write this. I love me some James Wilson and he doesn’t get enough love. I had so much fun writing this pen.

You sat in silence, the test in front of you as you stared at it. Cuddy had sent you home because of how sick you had felt throughout the day. And it wasn’t getting better no matter how much you insisted. You had made sure to tell your James goodbye before you headed out to return to your apartment.

James said he would be at your place later that night, and you accepted this. He knew you hadn’t felt well, and only checked to see if you needed him to bring you anything; you didn’t.

You hadn’t voiced concerns to James about the possibility of being pregnant. When you’d first started getting close to him people made sure to inform you of his bad luck with relationships. He’d been divorced three times and his girlfriend before you had passed away in a horrible bus accident. Hospital staff continuously told you there would be no reason to have a relationship with James, this included his best friend: Greg House.

So far, you’d been grateful you didn’t listen to them.

You could hear the keys jingle in the door and only turned toward it to greet him. James walked in and the smell of takeout food was comforting, you hoped you could keep it down.

“Hi hon,” you called out, rising to your feet and grabbing the takeout bags. James insisted on keeping the bags until you leveled him with a playful glare that admittedly flustered him every time it was sent his direction. His feeble arguments failed and you took the bag with you to the table, setting it down and glancing over at the test, “I think I found out why I’ve been so sick.”

“Oh really?” James came up behind you, an arm wrapping around his waist as he took a glance at what you were staring at. His eyes went wide and a small smile formed on his face as he turned you to face him, “Oh honey, this is amazing!”

“Are you sure?” You questioned, laughing at his excitement and wrapping your arms around his neck, “Only Cuddy and House know about our relationship…”

“And that’s all that matters,” he reassured you, his lips gently meeting your own, “Let’s eat and head to bed, we can get you to a doctor and then tell Cuddy.”

You hummed, lowering you face to rest on his shoulders while he gently rubbed your back. You did just as James had suggested, and the next morning he had scheduled you an appointment. He made sure it wasn’t at the hospital you both worked at, knowing that the news would get out faster if that was the case.

James reluctantly went off to work, being Head of Oncology never rests, and you headed to the appointment on your own. You had a reason for why the father wasn’t there, and sat through your appointment in mostly silence.

Once you had your ultrasound pictures in hand you made your way back to the hospital. You checked in with Cuddy, then ventured to James’ office. You were already pulling the photos out when you saw Cameron, Taub, and Foreman standing in the room. You quickly slammed the pictures to your chest, eyes wide as you looked at James.

His eyes landed on the photos, then he gave a small nod, “I will handle House in a moment, could I please have a moment alone in my office?”

The team glanced toward you, but then filed out and left you in silence. Once you were certain they were far enough away, you walked to his desk and set the pictures on your desk. A smile spread across his face at the sight, and he lifted it up, “This is amazing.”

Time passed and to say the both of you were excited was an understatement. While you still hadn’t put a label onto your relationship, you two were still going to welcome a child into the world. James insisted on you moving in with him, and you jumped at the opportunity. Cuddy and House were the first to know, then House’s team, and then word slowly traveled by ear around the hospital.

You were sitting at the nurses station, trying to relax in between patients. You ran your hand over your small bump, glancing up as House limped in with a paper clip. Foreman and Chase were close behind him.

“Clinic hours?” You questioned. Greg hummed, bored and nodding as he continued past you and into a room. You stood and grabbed a stack of files to figure out which patients were his or not. Knowing that most nurses couldn’t tolerate House, you automatically fell into the position of being the nurse to help him.

“Still can’t believe you’re the girl who got Wilson to settle,” Foreman muttered. You raised a brow in confusion, “We all know how relationships go for him. Who says adding a baby into the mix will be any different?”

You were silent for a moment, pulling your hands away from the files and watching Foreman, “James and I have been perfectly fine, thank you.”

You returned to your tasks, but Chase wanted to add onto the doubts, “And what about the age difference? Everyone knows about it now. Doesn’t it concern you to be having a baby with someone who’s older than you?”

“What goes on in my relationship is my business,” you snapped, dropping the files to the counter and feeling the eyes of other nurses on you, “He is my partner, not yours. He is the father of my child, not yours. And that’s all that matters to me. I don’t care about our age difference or his past relationships. Why? Because I do love him, and unless you two want to be romantically involved with him I don’t see why you care about my relationship with James.”

You turned to the other nurses who watched you with wide eyes, “I’m sorry to dump this onto you, but could one of you help House for a moment? I need a moment.”

“Of course,”

Once you received your response you walked away from the nurses station, tears welling in your eyes. You forcefully wiped them away as you opened the door to James’s office. You knew he would be with patients, so you shut the door and moved to the couch in his room.

Sprawling into the sofa you stared at the ceiling while resting a hand on your stomach. You didn’t plan on dozing off, but it eventually happened at some point you were awoken by James gently shaking you awake.

“Cuddy sent me to find you,” he said softly, helping you sit up as he remained crouched in front of you, concern on his features, “Are you alright?”

“Are you worried about having a baby with someone…younger?”

He looked concerned, taking your hands and shaking his head, “Where is this coming from?”

“Everyone has been talking about it since news got out,” You murmured, already feeling your tears ready to fall. James’s brown eyes were filled with so much worry as he rubbed his hand on your knee, trying to comfort you, “You can’t expect me to believe you haven’t heard it.”

“Of course I have, from House himself,” James informed you, then he shrugged, “But I don’t care. We love each other and this baby, and that’s what matters to me. Your age is the least of my concerns, and so are past relationships.”

Your eyes met his own, and you gave a small smile as he reached up to cup your cheek, wiping tears away, “I hope our baby learns so much from you.”

He only chuckled while you leaned down and kissed him. You pulled away and his brown eyes watched you lovingly. He smiled, “Let’s go get you and little one some food.”

James stood and helped you to your feet, arms wrapped around your waist as you shared another brief kiss. You two walked beside one another to the cafeteria, and when you saw House and his team you froze slightly, but James being beside you kept you going.

You each grabbed your food, James making sure you got everything that was healthy for you and the baby, then joined House and the team. Chase watched you closely as you settled in a chair, fighting for comfort while James watched in silence. He was never one to take away your physical tasks, but would still silently fuss over you.

You began eating your lunch, but the team’s eyes didn’t leave you. You shared a glance with James and he remained silent, so you sat up straight, “Is there something you all need?”

“You’ve been crying,” House pointed out rather abruptly, “Either your hormonal or the reality of the father of your child has come crashing done on you.”

James heaved a sigh, dropping his fork and leveling a glare at House. You place your hand over his, silencing him so you could speak, “There is no reality to it. James is the man I love, we’re having a baby, and that’s that.”

Chase’s eyes widened briefly, and Foreman quickly returned to eating his food. House studied you for a moment, and you only watched in response, clenching your jaw and feeling James take your hand in his own.

You silently returned to your meal, and after a moment: James did as well. There was a smug look on his face that he was thankful you hadn’t noticed.

It was later that night, after you had both gone home, when you were changing into your pajamas. You were silent as James walked in, he tucked his hands in his pockets as he watched you for a moment.

“I don’t think Chase or Foreman will say something again, or House for that matter,”

You turned to him, gaze softening as you sat on the bed, “They can say what they want. I don’t care.”

With that you laid down on your side, turning off your lamp and waited in silence for James to join you.

And sure enough, he did.

[dr-juliaogden]

very cute and sweet little idea! super interesting reading it from wilson’s pov

keep it up! <3

Knight in Plaid Boxers

Wilson's Pov

I woke up upon hearing a scream.

"James, help!" Recognizing my wife's voice and the empty space next to me, I quickly got up, fearing the worse.

"Fuck, fuck! Where is it?" I whispered to myself as I searched through the closet looking for the baseball bat she had insisted on keeping 'just in case'. Finally finding it, I armed myself and ran out to the kitchen screaming. Not the smartest idea, but continuing to hear my wife's screams of fear I only had one thought: to scare the intruder. I reached the kitchen and swung blindly, still screaming and shouting only to be met with my wife's voice.

"What the hell are you doing?" I opened my eyes to see her standing on the counter, totally unharmed.

"I-I heard you screaming? I thought- I thought you were being hurt?" I asked as I tried to catch my breath, very confused with the situation. She looked at me like I was insane.

"Yeah, because of the spider!" She pointed to the floor. My eyes followed her finger to see the remains of a mug and a spider crawling around. My hands fell to my side, and I dropped the bat in disbelief.

"What?" I looked at her incredulously.

"Babe, kill the freaking spider!" She continued to point before shrieking when it started towards her. I rubbed my hand over my face and sighed before carefully kneeling beside the broken glass and picking it up.

“It’s only a daddy long leg. You know, I don’t think they’re even classified as spiders.” I picked it up and laughed, seeing how small it was. I started to walk closer to her to show her, but she screamed and pushed her back against the cupboard.

“James Evan Wilson! So help me! If you come any closer I-I…I’ll withhold sex for a month!” I stopped and frowned at her threat before looking back at the ‘spider’ struggling in my fingers.

“Sorry buddy. You heard the lady. It’s either you or me, and well…I’m sure there’s plenty of lady spiders outside.” I opened the sliding glass door and threw him out before coming back to my wife’s aide. “Will you come down now? As much as I enjoy looking up your dress, I don’t want you to get hurt.” I approached her as she nodded. I was careful to avoid the broken shards of glass on the floor.

Once I got to her side, I picked her up bridal style.

“My beautiful damsel in distress.” I rolled my eyes and kissed her cheek, and she snuggled closer.

“My handsome knight in plaid boxers.” She laid her hand on my cheek and stroked her thumb on my under eye. I smiled at her. She’s a handful, but she’s mine.

“You know usually the hero gets a reward for saving the princess…” I smirked at her.

“And what…reward…do you have in mind?” Her eyebrow raised even though she clearly knew what I had in mind. I kissed her as I took her out of the kitchen before wiggling my eyebrows at her suggestively. She laughed. "What about the broken mug?" I shrugged.

"We'll deal with it tomorrow."

"What if Sarah hurts herself?" We entered the bedroom.

"She's a cat, I'm sure she'll be fine." I said sarcastically while rolling my eyes, I could tell her worry was just a way of teasing me. I set her on her side of the bed before going over to my own. She smirked up at me.

"Alright, if you insist." She feigned disinterest. I smiled before jumping onto the bed and attacking her neck and face with my lips. We continued making out for a little as things got more heated until Sarah jumped up onto the bed and tried to wiggle between us. Suddenly, she pulled back. I tried to capture her lips again, but she put her hand on my chest. "As much as I love you and enjoy this babe, I'm not doing 'it' in front of the cat." I frowned, looking at the cat, who was now curled up on the bed sleeping.

"I can kick her out." I said a little too desperately. She shook her head.

"It’s like two in the morning. You have to get up for work tomorrow, sweetheart." She said before leaning over and kissing me. "Goodnight. I love you." And with that, she laid down and went to bed. I groaned and glared at Sarah.

"Damn cat." I mumbled before laying down and turning to my side. I was still calming down when I felt an arm wrap around me. I smiled.

I suppose this was nice, too.

Author's Note: I'm working on the requests! This was just a small/easy idea I had in my notes that I thought I could publish as a filler.

Also, is this any good, or is it like weird? idk I'm always worried when I write in his pov, and the entire thing is in it.

P.S.

When writing this, I imagined the mug to be one that House got them for their wedding that just has his face on it. I don't know. OH! And when he ran out with the bat, he was in his McGill sweatshirt and plaid boxers with white socks. Again, just the image I had when writing, lol.

[dr-juliaogden]

Hi, so first off, love your user. Big fan of murdoch mysteries, and I feel like no one watches it, lol.

Anyways, if you're still up for reading fics, I have a James Wilson fic. You obviously don't have to read it. I'm new to writing for him, and It's my first one that is based on an idea of my own (not a request), and I just can't tell if it's any good.

Please don't feel obligated to like it, read it, or even interact with this. This is purely just me 'shooting my shot' for lack of a better phrasing.

Anyways, if you want to:

Knight in Plaid Boxers - https://www.tumblr.com/dearestro/746250639075573760/knight-in-plaid-boxers?source=share

I swear there's no smut. You might say there's like...innuendos if that makes sense? I don't know. If you do look at it and feel uncomfortable/find it to be nsfw, I am so incredibly sorry.

oh my goodness this is the first time someone’s come in here with a rec for me i’m so excited to read it!

and so cool that you watch murdoch too lol i also feel like barely anyone watches it 😂

i’m also a new to writing james (like since january) but if you’d like specific feedback from what i can offer i’d be more than happy to give it i just don’t want to offer advice if that’s not what you’re looking for

and here’s the link for anyone else who wants to read!

[dr-juliaogden]

How to __ and Other Writing Tips

��� a masterpost for informational writing prompts and other tips for writers

How to Write __:

How to Write Nightmares and Sleep Paralysis

How to Write a Monster

How to Write a Good Villain

How to Write a Panic Attack

How to Write Dialogue for a Stuttering Character

How to Write a Character with an Eating Disorder

How to Write a Character with a Prosthetic

How to Write a Character that has been Poisoned

How to Write an Unreliable Narrator

How to Describe __:

Different Ways to Describe Fear

How to Describe Facial Expressions

How to Describe a Character's Speech

How to Describe Emotionally Distant Parents

Other:

What to Do With Too Much Dialogue

Ways for Characters to Get to Know Each Other

[dr-juliaogden]

crying again but for different reasons 🥹 james just knowing something is wrong and so easily being able to offer comfort and care

this was really beautiful and made me feel so so soft 🥰❤️

Nothings wrong - James Wilson

requested: yes

word count: 578

warnings: tbh nothing

a/n: sorry im in love with this guy currently and am spamming you with him... except im not and i will do it again

Masterlist

Will you please tell me what happened?

Being with James Wilson was like being with the personified version of a cloud. His hugs were comforting, his aura was soothing. And seeing him was like seeing everything you had ever wanted in life.

And coming home to him after the few years you’d been together had always felt like being greeted with a warm and fuzzy sweater. One handmade and filled with the love you deserve to have.

It was even more needed on days like today. Where everything just felt wrong. Nothing even caused it. Just the mood you woke up in that was somehow made worse the longer your shift at work went on. Dealing with people just drained you.

Traffic made you want to scream and you felt like every molecule in your body was vibrating at such a high frequency that you were going to just combust. So coming home to James was exactly what you needed.

Except seeing him with the biggest grin, and insanely cheery voice made you shove back those feelings instantly. Letting him go on about his job later in the evening. “You really should have seen it, we thought she wasn’t going to make it to Christmas but now we’re talking a few more years.”

He was happily talking, his hands flailing around as he did. “Isn’t that-” His eyes finally caught the look you had been trying to hide from him. The way you were completely zoned out and just staring ahead.

“What’s wrong?”

You shook your head, reeling yourself back in, “What? Nothing, nothing. That’s really amazing, baby.” You tried to sweep it under the rug, tried to put every displaced piece of yourself together just for the sake of conversation.

Which would have worked if he was someone you met an hour ago. But no, he was the man you’d been with for three and a half years that knew your favorite songs, favorite films, everything there was to know inside and out.

So he knew when you were lying, no matter how well you did it, he figured it out in seconds. “No, there’s something. What’s wrong? What happened?” He had stopped the pacing he was doing, instead sitting next to you.

“Jamie..” You didn’t want to talk about it. How do you explain that there wasn’t anything? That you just metaphorically woke up on the wrong side of the bed? SOmething you weren’t even sure there was a science to.

Probably not.

He grabbed your hands in his, looking at you with the biggest brown puppy dog eyes he’d ever done, which, was saying something. He knew it was your weakness, that when he showed that level of care that you’d cave.

“Please, tell me what happened.”

The comforting level of his voice pushed the floodgates open. “Nothing, nothing happened I’m just… I don’t know.” It was the worst feeling. Something was wrong. You were aware of that.

But the what, the why. The reasoning being unknown was the worst of it. “I don’t know what’s wrong.” Your voice cracking as he shifted to pull you into his chest. His back leaning back to the couch, your body coming to lay against his as tears sprung and slipped out of your eyes.

“It’s okay, bad days happen.”

“Today was horrible..” He stroked your hair, knowing it gave you some form of comfort regardless of how you really felt. He knew you better than anyone and you truly had never been so thankful.

JOIN WILSON’S TAGLIST HERE!

tags: @morketheduck, @cuntyvicodin, @dejerw,

[dr-juliaogden]

criminal this whole fic

ie. it was fantastic, hurt in all the right places

i love your writing style and way of story telling! thanks for sharing ❤️❤️

Story of Us - James Wilson

Requested: no <3

Word count: 1,060

Warnings: no happy ending, also no dialogue?

A/n: see listening to Taylor to write helps… not with updating my fics but giving me random new ideas :)))

Masterlist

Falling in love with James Wilson was like eating cotton candy. First it’s fluffy and sweet, then it melts and you’re left with a rotting tooth ache. That was exactly what your relationship had been like.

Going to work at Princeton Plainsboro was meant to be temporary, just a fill in for a doctor that was on medical leave. Then you were offered a more permanent role. One you happily took considering you had fallen into a nice routine there, made friends.

One being the head of oncology. He was nice, he was sweet. He brought you coffee when he came in, stopped by on his way out to have small conversation. How could you not fall for him?

Short answer is that it was inevitable. Stopping by turned to leaving together, which led to getting drinks together and suddenly you were going out to dinner, watching movies at one of your places or the other.

And then he kissed you. You were leaving to head home and before you knew it he had put a hand on your cheek and kissed you. That moment was when you truly realized that there had been building feelings the last couple months that you weren’t even aware of.

That was the sweet part. The waking up next to one another, making breakfast for each other and just knowing how they liked their eggs made, knowing that he wasn’t as fond of regular bacon as he was of turkey bacon.

The two of you just worked. Fit together like two pieces of a puzzle that you were so glad you got to put together. And unlike cotton candy that part of things lasted longer than expected. There was a year and a half under your belt.

Things were good, they were nice. Dinners out, nights in. Until he started staying away longer. Which at first you chalked up to simply work. Except when he stumbled in just a little too late, just smelling a little too much like alcohol.

Now you didn’t mind when he went out with House, it wasn’t the fact he wasn’t there as much. It was more so the lack of communication. How he could just go along without at least a mention of going out, or staying late.

It got to a point that you just couldn’t do it. Not when you were sitting at a restaurant, single lit candle in front of you. If it were a normal date sure, maybe you’d suck it up, get over it. But it was your idea to go out. His birthday. His. 

Surely he’d want to be with you, right? 

Apparently not. After thirty minutes you gave up. Maybe it was too soon. Maybe he would have shown up minutes later. But you didn’t want to see him at all anymore. Maybe ever. That wouldn’t exactly be too bad now would it.

So you went back to the apartment that you now shared and started shoving clothes into a duffle bag. You didn’t exactly have anywhere to go but you’d find something. A friend. A hotel. Anything that meant not being there when James came home.

That night was the final nail in the coffin. No matter how much you voiced the fact him going MIA got on your nerves he still did it. So the next time you saw him that was it. One final goodbye, the rest of your stuff officially moved out and that was that.

He did offer to move out instead but you already had less stuff so it just felt fair. You didn’t want to be reminded of everything anyway. 

Work was tricky. It wasn’t like you could just completely ignore his existence. Your paths crossed more often than you wished they would. Granted you were both adults and both entirely professional.

It didn’t affect your practice and for that you were grateful. At least you still had something to hold onto. Sure half the time it ended in you excusing yourself and crying in a bathroom stall but regardless, it never affected the patient’s care.

Tonight was harder though. A gala to gain more money for the hospital. After losing one of the biggest donors, Cuddy was a bit desperate to make up for what was lost. Which meant the heads of each department schmoozing with a bunch of rich people.

Which would usually be fine. Last time they had one you were able to latch onto James and weave through the crowd of people. He always soothed the anxiety big crowds gave you. So yeah, standing in the corner now you were just trying to keep calm.

It wasn’t horrible. Not entirely, you had eyes on at least three people you knew at all times, only talked to people that came and talked to you first which was okay until the guy in front of you tried to get more than just a hospital donation.

Your face went red with both embarrassment and anger as you split away from the table he was leaning against, trying to find anyone. Hell, even House would be a better option than being in your state right now.

Instinctively you looked for James though, he was really the only one that could do it. Cuddy had tried before, didn’t get any further than you crying your eyes out in an empty hallway while she went and looked for him.

You did manage to find him, a bit aways talking to some redhead in a red dress. You desperately wanted to interrupt. To pull him away and out into the hall but when he glanced over and caught your eye you froze.

Something told you not to. To let him be. Standing there felt like having a big spot light right above your head, shining right down onto you. In a way it was. Even now, weeks after the breakup, seeing you was like everything else faded into the background.

But you weren’t speaking. There had been no conversation with the slightly older man so you had nobody. You were completely alone in a crowded room and there was nothing you could do about it.

Nothing James could do about it.

That was how your story together ended. No happily ever after. It was a bitter ending but that was fate. It was all fate.

The end.

JOIN WILSON’S TAGLIST HERE!

tags: @morketheduck, @cuntyvicodin, @dejerw,

[dr-juliaogden]

so sweet and wholesome!

I absolutely love love love the way you write!! I was wondering if you could write a Hotch x reader where their relationship is pretty new and reader gets unexpectedly pregnant and is worried about telling Hotch since they haven't talked about having kids and it's just a lot of fluff when Hotch finds out ! Thank you :) <3

ty for requesting!! hotch receives some unexpected news, but he loves you, and he’s happy to prove it. pregnant!reader, 1.5k

Oh fuck, you think, pins and needles in your hands you can’t shake. Oh, fuck. 

Aaron’s car pulls into the parking lot outside of the doctor’s office, fifty metres away, forty, less. You have about twenty seconds to think of what to tell him, and to conjure a lie he’ll believe. You’re a bad liar when it comes to him. 

You’ve thought of him fondly as a human lie detector since you met, apparently because you’ve never needed to lie to him before. As soon as you open the passenger door, he’s concerned. You hadn’t allowed him time to get out first. 

“What’s wrong?” he asks, frowning. 

“Can you give me a few minutes to think about it?” you ask. 

He clears his expression quickly, which would be impressive if you weren’t nauseous beyond words. “Sure.” His eyes soften. “I missed you.” 

He’s been away for a few days, and you'd thought it was great timing for him to come home just after your appointment, but now you’re not so sure. Regardless, he leans across the console and kisses the corner of your lips. 

You lean down under his touch. The pins and needles fade ever so slightly. 

Aaron looks good, you realise, despite the racing heart in your chest. It’s funny how you can think of two things at once, how you can struggle to put together what you have to tell him, and still acknowledge how sharply handsome he looks in his suit and tie. He must’ve been in the office before he picked you up. 

“I missed you too,” you say finally. “Really.” 

He squeezes your arm. 

Aaron turns onto the road out of the doctor’s office lot, past sparse greenery and into the city street that will lead to his apartment. “Is my place okay, or do you need to go home?” 

You aren’t sure. What if he doesn’t even want you there when you tell him? Panic flits through you and, evidently, across your face —Aaron catches it from a sideways glance and takes the first left into a quieter street. He parks as soon as he can. 

“What’s wrong, honey? You look like you’re waiting for me to yell at you,” he says. His brows pinch, eyes dark as always but not without tenderness as he turns in his seat towards you. 

“Please don’t be mad at me. I swear– I mean, I–” You stop. “Please don’t be mad.” 

There’s a pause. “I’m not going to be mad at you,” he says. He looks like he’s guessing the problem. You want to tell him before he can figure it out wrong.

“The doctor just told me I’m pregnant,” you admit, watching his face. When he doesn’t react, you stare down at your hands. You have no idea what to do.  “Almost four weeks pregnant. Aaron, I…” A hot flush rushes down your face. 

Aaron shakes his head. 

“I’m not mad. There’s no need to panic.” He speaks with deliberate slowness. You’ve heard him talk this way before, on the rare occasion where you’re upset and he’s been there to see it. 

“I would never try to trap you–”

“Okay,” he interrupts. You aren’t sure he’s ever done that, not once since you met. “I think you’ve just had very big news, and you’re panicking, but I need you to know that I’m not against you right now.” He holds your gaze. 

Your eyes water. 

“I’m gonna get out and come around, okay?” he says quietly. 

“Okay.” You sound pathetic to your own ears, like your voice is air squeezed tight from your chest. 

Aaron climbs out of the driver's side and walks around the bonnet. You can’t watch him. You’re still not looking when he opens your door, bending to touch your cheek. 

You turn into him. He takes it as permission to hold your face, giving you a quick once over before he kisses your cheek. “It’s okay,” he murmurs, “it’s okay.” More kisses, three then four, a fifth pressed to the softest high point. 

You lean into him, immediately read for what you need, his arms wrapping around you and hugging you close. Maybe he’s right, you were panicking rather hard, and it’s not as though he’s given you reason to believe he’d react badly to the news, just, what man wants to hear from his partner of barely five months that she’s pregnant? 

You suppose you don’t have to continue the pregnancy. Then you panic worse, because you’re not sure what you want, turning rigidly stiff in his embrace. 

“It’s okay,” he says softly, “I love you, you know.” 

It isn’t the first time he’s told you but you’re not used to hearing it, either. It’s reassurance you needed. Just as quickly as you stiffened, you relax. 

He feels it. “I love you,” he says again, “and I’m so happy.” 

“What?” you ask, pulling your face back from his chest. 

“With you. This is the happiest I’ve been in a long, long time.” 

“You want me to have the baby?” 

He blinks. “Honey, I want you to do whatever you want.” You smile at him softly. He cups your face in both hands, his thumbs at the corners of your smile and pressing mildly into your skin. “It’s soon, isn’t it? But I do love you, I don’t say that lightly, and so I’d love for you to have a baby.” 

“Really?” 

“Are you surprised by that?” 

“You really love me that much?” 

“I want a life with you,” he confesses. How terribly sincere a thing to say, stooped under the car roof, trying to stop you from crying into his palms. 

You don’t know if you want a baby just yet, but you have time to think about it, and a clearly supportive partner. He waits for what he’s said to sink in, rubbing semi-circles into your cheek, dotting a kiss heavy with affection into the skin just shy of his index finger and the corner of your eye. “That’s a cruel surprise, for you to have been told alone. I’m sorry you were by yourself. If I’d known…” 

“If I’d known I would’ve made you go with me,” you promise. 

“Do you feel alright? I suppose we know why you were craving Dora’s so badly a few nights ago,” he says. 

He sounds achingly in love with you. You’ve never heard him so gentle, not even the first time he took you home. 

“Honey?” 

“I love you too,” you say. 

“I know.” He hugs you, a rare smile brushing your cheeks as he leans down and in. “Can you answer me? Do you feel okay? Hayley was sick to her stomach the whole nine months.” 

“She was? Are you kidding?” You baulk wondering if that’s what’s in store for you. 

“Not kidding. Sorry. Not that you have to… well. You’re not feeling sick, are you?” 

“I feel better now,” you say honestly. 

He rubs your back, big rough lines full of fondness. “Okay, good. I’m gonna get back in, okay? So you can think about things at home. What do you think, is that alright? We’ll order something to eat and you can take your time.” 

“No, no–” You grab him tight. He can’t leave. 

Aaron laughs and hugs you tighter. You spend a long few minutes like that settling, no tears shed, just trying to catch up to yourself without panicking again. It could be nice to be pregnant. It could be an early start on your life with him, there’d be nothing wrong with that. You’d live together with Jack, you’d get to wake up beside him everyday. You’d love that, you’d love to be with him, you and him and your babies. But it’s not that simple. 

Aaron’s right though, you have time to think. In the meantime, he loves you. 

“I can take a few days off.” 

“What?” You laugh. “Have you ever had a day off in your life?” 

“No, but I should start. I will. No matter what you choose.” 

He tips your head back for a chaste, adoring kiss. You can feel it in every millimetre of pressure, and the way he chucks under your chin with his thumb as he stands. 

He goes to shut your door, but doubles back for another hug. “I’m so lucky to have you. I love you.” He seems surprised he’s said it, though not regretful, laughing sheepishly as he pulls away. “I’m very sorry for putting you in this position unexpectedly.” 

It’ll be alright, ‘cos he loves you. You manage a short laugh. “Well, it’s okay. I’m just glad you’re not mad.” 

“It never even crossed my mind.” He closes your door, walking back around to the driver's side to take you home. 

[dr-juliaogden]

house is so real for getting all up in their business this time 😂 at least he was nice-ish about it? maybe? by house standards?

either way a very cute fic! thanks for sharing

Wedding Bells Or Separations?

James Wilson x Female Reader

Summary: Something has changed between Wilson and the head of the Pediatrics Department. House is feeling bored and decides to investigate.

TW: Fluff, House (Warning in itself), talk of weddings/pregnancy/breast size.

House walked into the cafeteria, scanning the room until his bright blue eyes located Wilson and L/N. They sat in the same side of a booth with Wilson's arm wrapped around her shoulder as they ate lunch together. Her legs were crossed, high heeled shoe bobbing up and down slowly underneath the table. L/N's body was angled towards Wilson as they talked, her hand resting on his thigh.

They were close. Too close.

Something was off in their relationship, it was like the dynamic had changed overnight. House made his way across the room, sliding into the booth across from them, "What's new with my favorite couple?" House asked, grabbing a fry from L/N's plate.

"We're good. How are you, House?" L/N asked.

"Bored," House stated, chewing the fried potato.

"God, help us all," Wilson muttered.

L/N smiled, shaking her head slightly as she picked up a french fry from her plate.

"What has peaked your interest for today then, House?" L/N asked, biting into the fry.

"I wouldn't ask that," Wilson suggested.

L/N shrugged, shifting closer to Wilson's side as her hand slid down his thigh towards his knee.

"Your breasts look amazing," House stated, eyes flickering down to the top of her dress.

L/N let out a disbelieving scoff, "Wow, that's definitely not what I was expecting you to say," She said.

"I would appreciate it if you didn't comment on the appearance of my girlfriend's breasts," Wilson said.

"The sudden uprising of those beautifully sculpted, perky fun-bags could be a gift courtesy of a new push-up bra or it could be due to first trimester hormones," House continued, choosing not to acknowledge Wilson's comment.

"I am not pregnant, House," L/N said.

"Your mood swings are doing little to convince me, but the fact that you haven't gained any weight-," "Be careful how you finish that sentence, House," L/N said firmly.

"I'll drop the topic completely if you take a pregnancy test," House offered, grabbing another fry from her plate.

"I am not pregnant," L/N repeated.

"Pee in a cup then," House argued.

She huffed, "James, help me," L/N said.

"She is not letting you test her urine. Forget it, House," Wilson stated firmly.

"Fine... But something has changed between you two and I'm going to find out what it is," House said.

"Whatever you say, House," Wilson said, taking a drink from his coffee cup.

...

House walked through the hallways of Princeton-Plainsboro with Cameron, Chase and Foreman following closely behind him. House narrowed his eyes slightly when he saw Wilson and L/N standing at the nursing station. She smiled at something he said, scribbling something down in her patient file before tucking her pen into the pocket of her lab coat. L/N turned to face him, hands raising up to adjust his green tie.

"Get an MRI and come find me when you see the abscess that's killing him," House ordered.

"But shouldn't we-" "Scram, kiddos, daddy has some work to do," House said.

He broke off from the group, approaching Wilson and L/N, "You haven't worn that god-awful tie since before your divorce," House stated.

"Nice to see you too, House," Wilson sighed.

"Either you're pregnant, you're engaged or you're breaking up and overcompensating," House listed.

"She is not pregnant, House," Wilson said.

"Then that just leaves wedding bells or separations... But you're too smart to be overcompensating because you know that I would be able to tell the difference," House said, eyeing the pair suspiciously.

"Let it go, House. We're happy," Wilson said.

"Too happy. It's an anomaly," House stated.

"My god, is he always this exhausting?" L/N questioned.

"Tiredness... Pregnancy is back on the board," House said.

L/N sighed, "I'm going back to work. See you at dinner," L/N said, grabbing her file and pressing a quick kiss to Wilson's cheek before walking off.

"Please, let it go, House," Wilson said after she was out of earshot, taking his own file and leaving House to his thoughts.

...

Wilson and L/N sat across from each other in the dimly lit restaurant. He laughed at something she said before lifting his wine glass to his lips. L/N's smile suddenly fell as she looked up at something behind him.

"Is everything okay?" Wilson asked, turning to look. He huffed when he saw House making his way over to them.

Wilson turned back to L/N, "I am so sorry about whatever he's going to do or say," Wilson said.

"I know," She smiled.

"Hey, guys! I didn't know you'd be here tonight. Small world," House smiled, pulling up a chair and sitting at their table.

"Wine? Pretty irresponsible to drink while pregnant," House mused.

L/N sighed, taking a sip from her glass before setting it down on the table.

House's eyes zeroed in on the folder on the corner of the table.

"Dinner and a consult? Way too fancy a place for that," House said, reaching for the folder.

L/N rested her hand on top of it, "House, can we please talk about this another time?" L/N asked.

"Show me what's in the file," House said.

L/N sighed, eyes locking with Wilson's across the table. He nodded, L/N picked up the file and held it out to House.

He took the folder from her hand and flipped it open, eyes scanning across the various photos and documents.

"Flowers, venues, colors, foods, cake... You're getting married?" House asked, looking up at Wilson and L/N.

She lifted the chain from around her neck, revealing the engagement ring that had been hidden by the neckline of her dress.

House stared at the jewlery in silence, "You're engaged," He stated.

"I proposed two weeks ago," Wilson admitted.

"You kept this hidden from me for two weeks? I'm impressed," House said, eyes dropping back down to the file.

"I'd go with pink and grey," House said, flipping the file closed and holding it out to L/N.

She took the folder, "Enjoy your dinner," House said, standing up from his chair and making his way out of the restaurant.

[dr-juliaogden]

bestie i don’t even know what fandom this is for but it fucking HITS

you drew me in with the black!reader and now i’m hooked 🫠 the emotions the connection the EMOTIONS im so smitten rn and i DONT EVEN KNOW WHO THIS MAN IS

The Dead Horse

summary: santi brings you back to reality.

pairing: fem!black!reader x santi garcia

contents: angst & fluff— happy ending, canon typical violence, blood, gore, ptsd, depression, feelings of hopelessness, friends to lovers, kissing

wc: 2,419

an: this has been sitting in my drafts for a while now bc of nerves, but always wanted to write Santi with a black love interest. planning to dip my toe into that pool more in the future 🥰

oscar issac characters masterlist

You don’t know how long you’ve been sitting here like this. It could be minutes, hours, even days. In these four walls beneath the shower’s spray, there is nothing that matters. Not even you, not anymore. And while you’re usually the first to be cheery, to tell each of the guys that the work they do— the work you all do together— doesn’t compromise the goodness you see in their hearts, you’re having a hard time believing that right now.

Not with what you’d done. It was to survive, and while you’ve come to terms with how scary you could be in the past you thought it stayed there.

In the past.

Tonight had proven to you that you could always access that piece of you. That terrifying piece that was a killing machine. The emphasis doesn’t lie in efficiency, but in ruthlessness. You had shown no mercy, the switch for empathy and compassion turned off as soon as your hindbrain decided that it was fight or flight. Dormantly thirsty, lurking in the shadows waiting for its time, it chose to fight. But you had gone a step too far—like always— because of your lack of control.

You were messy, enjoying the cutting of thick flesh, the warmth of the blood as it sprayed you. The copper smell, so familiar and embarrassingly comforting, though you didn’t have the mind to think that now, not when you were exposing the pink underbelly of a corpse.

Santi’s been pacing the hallway since you all made it back to the safe house. He’d tried to chat you up on the way home with no success. You wouldn’t meet his eye, and when he drew nearer to catch your gaze it was empty. It chilled his blood. He wasn’t sure of what exactly happened in that room you’d gotten ambushed in but he’d seen the aftermath. Recalling the image of standing over one too many dead bodies, a gleam in your eye had made his stomach curl. He’d smoothed his hand over your knee and left it at that, trying his best to banish all the red and pink and white.

It’s been an hour since you’d stumbled into the bathroom. He can hear the shower still going when he puts his ear to the door and sighs, a mix of frustrated and concerned. He’s not sure what to do– he’s never had to take care of you before. He’s always been grateful for that given all the fondness he has for you bubbling just beneath. Any acknowledgement could jeopardize too much– missions, the dynamic of the team, and most importantly your friendship.

“You alright in there?” He calls softly through the door.

He’s met with silence. He rolls his neck, cursing beneath his breath as his mind goes back and forth, trying to decide what to do.

“Just go in there and check on her,” Frankie says from behind him, causing the other man to flinch. “Didn’t mean to scare you. You alright?”

“I’m fine,” Santi assures Frankie, leaning against the wall to face the man. He nods at the door. “She could be naked.”

Frankie snorts, shrugging. “She’s seen all of us at least half naked and well, Benny—“

Santi quickly cuts him off, trying to keep the sour jealousy out of his voice. He knows that there’s nothing going on between you and Benny, that Benny is as much of a flirt as he is but sillier and less concerned with his image. “But we haven’t seen her. I don’t— I’m a dog but I’m a respectful one.”

“If she’s gonna get help from anybody on this it’d be you. She trusts you man.”

Santi looks at him like he’s grown two heads but feels a little warm, “She trusts all of us, kind of a prerequisite of living and working with a group of men.”

“It's different with you. You should hear the way she talks about you when you’re not around.”

Santi almost lets himself think about it. Almost lets himself dream a little. Almost.

“Or see the way she looks at you when you’re not looking. Like a lost fucking puppy,” Benny pipes in, breezing down through the hallway between the two of them.

“Don’t sound so concerned, Benjamin,” Santi calls after the man, mouth quirking into a grin.

“Don’t look so smug, Santiago,” Frankie teases.

“I’m not smug,” He denies. He decides to go in, okay with being kicked out by you if it means that Frankie will be gone, done poking and prodding at what the man must know is his heart.

“Good luck.”

Santi murmurs a quiet thanks before slowly entering the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. He stands, frozen in place for several moments as he digests the sight of you. It's heartbreaking. His chest goes tight, and he curses softly again. What could he do for you? He’d do anything, but he’s just not sure what. He feels helpless seeing you like this. He could burn this entire city, burn anyone who would look at you wrong. Hell, he’d burn the entire world if it meant some warmth would come back into your eyes.

You’re curled up, your arms resting atop your knees, head resting to stare forward. Your curly hair that usually frames your face is completely soaked like the rest of you, flat and sticking to your face in various places. He knows that your eyes are unseeing, that you’re so incredibly removed from yourself because you make no indication that he’s stepped into the room.

“I’m gonna come sit beside you, okay? That’s it. No words,” Despite his words he stays where he is for a handful of seconds, hoping to get some sort of answer from you. You don’t speak a word, don’t utter or sound or so much as look in his direction. But you do shift slowly, making more room for him underneath the water.

“Fuck, it’s freezing,” He grits out, drawing close enough to you that your shoulders rest flush against each other.

He gazes over at you, noticing the way the water glimmers on your brown skin. The way its collected on your dark eyelashes. If these were different circumstances maybe for just a handful of seconds he’d let himself get lost in your beauty. But then you acknowledge him– sort of. You hum softly and the leaning of your head on his shoulder. It's a good sign and he relaxes beside you.

“Do you want me to shut it off?” He asks gently, reaching out to take your hands into his. Your fingers are cold as ice, and he rubs at them in a futile attempt to generate some heat.

“No, please. No,” You beg hoarsely, suddenly springing to life. You grip at his hands desperately, eyes wide with panic as you finally meet his gaze.

“Alright, hush, cariño, I’ve got you. C’mere, baby,” He shushes you, pulling you into his arms and flush against him.

At little more present in the moment, you feel the chill registering. You curl up, tucking your face into the crook of his neck. There’s still some warmth in his skin and you press into it, letting the sound of his steady breath lull you back into a dissociative state.

Santi holds you for an undetermined amount of time. He runs his hands up your back, over the crown of your hair, feeling the difference of how your curls feel when wet. His hand drifts to your chin, and he leans away, tipping your head up.

“Honey, you’ve gotta talk to me,” He whispers.

Your dark eyes have a little more life to them, but that’s only amplified the sadness they hold. “Santi, I can’t. I can’t. Don’t make me, please.”

“I have to, you can’t stay like this. We’ve got to get it out in the open.”

“Like you do?” You challenge– your voice distinctly unkind, harder than he’s ever heard it before. His brow furrows and guilt blossoms inside of you. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have. This just fucking sucks, Santiago. Its all wrong again.”

“Tell me what’s wrong and we’ll fix it.”

“There’s no way we can fix it. I’m just broken. I’ll always be haunted by her. She’ll always be here, waiting for an opportunity for that.”

“You preach that shit to me and the guys. Day in and day out. Every mission, and you don’t believe it?”

“I do— I did. I believe it for you. For them. You’re good people, Santi. Good men, all of you. You take care of me.”

“You take care of us, honey. Fish hangs on your every word. Will too. Benny is well— Benjamin.”

“And you?”

He shrugs, “You know I gave into this a long time ago. Before we even met. No other way for me to be.”

“Do you believe me?”

“I try to. I want to. There are parts of me too that I don’t like. I want them gone. I rip them up and bury them but they always come back to haunt me. I don’t think that means I’m not trying to be better, but it means I’ll never be the man I want to be.”

You frown at him, concerned, “Santi—“

“It’s okay. I accepted that after the first tour. Sometimes you gotta let the horse be dead.”

“Do you think my horse is dead?”

There’s no room for his ego, no room for hiding when he hears the blatant fear in your question.

He rests his head back against the wall, murmuring, “I think you’re the sweetest thing this earth has to offer.”

“You think so?”

“Bouncing around with your curls, and your sweet little smile. Kicking Benny’s ass with grace while you’ve got a cake in the oven. You should see yourself with Frankie’s little girl.”

“Seems like you watch me a lot,” You suggest softly.

“I watch you all the time,” He admits, but there’s no shame in his voice. In fact you can see resolve in his eyes, and possessiveness. A chill runs down your spine and it’s not from the water. Santi mistakes it for that anyway. “Let me turn this off for us?”

He’s still asking. Still checking in with you though there’s much more light in your eyes.

“Yeah, okay.”

Santi leans up and turns off the shower, letting out a sigh of relief. He runs his hands over your wet curls, pushing them away from your forehead. His thumbs swipe your cold cheeks, brushing away some of the water droplets.

Without that steady sound of the shower, sheets cascading down on you, you both are feeling a little more exposed.

“I came in here to make sure you were alright, not spill my fucking guts. I just had to take care of you,” He says, his voice uncharacteristically hesitant.

“You can always take it back,” You say teasingly, though most of you expect him to bite at your offer.

He’s said much more in these last few minutes than he ever has to you— Santi’s a sweet guy under all his charm, but he never lets you see below the surface. Not until now, when letting you in seemed like the only way to get you out.

It takes more effort than he expects to pull himself away from you. He leans back against the shower wall, nimble fingers lacing together in his lap. “And lose you?”

“You could never lose me, Santi,” You murmur, reaching out to grab one of his hands.

Your eyes roam him, a little in disbelief at what’s happening right now. But yes, it is Santiago Garcia sitting next to you. With his dark brown eyes, his sharp jaw dappled with stubble, his salt and pepper hair looking much darker and curlier than usual due to the water.

“Yeah?” Santi asks, eyes glued to where yours sits atop his. He traces slowly over the sight of you two linked together, admiring how soft and rich your skin looks even after sitting in a shower for so long.

He’s a goner isn’t he?

“Yeah.”

There are butterflies in his stomach. Butterflies, sweat slicking his palms despite the fact that he’s soaked through his clothes and down to the bone. He realizes in this moment that he’s not just a goner. No— he loves you. He knew that he was harboring some kind of feelings for you, but when your eyes meet his— earnest and tender— he can only think one thing: I love you.

His eyes hungrily drop to your full mouth, and another shiver runs down your spine. “Let me kiss you.”

You nod, squeezing his hand that’s still in yours.

“I need to hear you say it. You have to say it for me, so I can believe it.”

“I want you to kiss me, Santiago. Please.”

He’s on you then. All over you. His hands move quickly, guiding you back into his lap before one loops around your torso and holds you close. The other cups your jaw, angling it back so that he can press his mouth to yours. You’re breathless before the space between you is closed, chest heaving at how sure and firm his hands are. He kisses you. Kisses and kisses you, like his life depends on it. Like you’re lost and the only thing that will guide you home is his insistent tongue.

Your hands slip and slide against the fabric of his wet shirt before you give up, raising them to tentatively cup his face so that you can have leverage.

“That’s it honey, kiss me back. Take what you want to. Whatever you need,” He encourages between kisses.

Take you do. You squirm in his lap until he lets you shift and straddle him. It had started with him leading you, consuming you but now it’s your turn to surround him. Santi gives in, sighing into your mouth as your tongue goes on the hunt for his. You kiss him. Kiss him and kiss him until your mouth aches. When you pull away his is flushed pink, newly wet. You run your thumb over his lips before wiping your own mouth.

He looks up at you like hang the moon. His eyes are soft and hazy, pink mouth pulling up into a smirk. There’s the Santi you know. The Santi you love. But even now, he’s softer and sweeter, gathering you close again.

“What do you need now, sweetheart? What can I do to make it better?”

“You.”

“I’m yours.”

santi taglist: @jitterbugs927, @theconsultingdoctor10, @tanzthompson, @clairevoyanceee, @moonmalice, @tiffanypooh, @dearvirtualdiary-blog1, @marc-spectorr, @xbellaxcarolinax, @toracainz, @mccn-bcys, @missdictatorme, @whatthefishh

[dr-juliaogden]

𝐏𝐄𝐃𝐈𝐀𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐂𝐒

𝘩𝘢𝘸𝘬𝘦𝘺𝘦 𝘱𝘪𝘦𝘳𝘤𝘦 𝘹 𝘱𝘦𝘥𝘪𝘢𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘤 𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘨𝘦𝘰𝘯!𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

𝙨𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙮: 𝘪𝘯 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘤𝘩 𝘢 𝘱𝘦𝘥𝘪𝘢𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘤 𝘷𝘪𝘴𝘪𝘵 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦𝘴 𝘩𝘢𝘸𝘬𝘦𝘺𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘮𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘧𝘶𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳.

𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨: 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘧 𝘨𝘶𝘪𝘭𝘵, 𝘤𝘳𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘣𝘢𝘣𝘺

𝙖/𝙣: 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘴𝘵 𝘧𝘪𝘤 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘺𝘦𝘢𝘳! 𝘥𝘰𝘯𝘵 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘳𝘺, 𝘪 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘺 𝘰𝘧 𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘩 𝘧𝘢𝘯 𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘮𝘺 𝘳𝘰𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘰 𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘵. 𝘳𝘦𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘴 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘰𝘱𝘦𝘯.

·.·´¯`·.·★·.·´¯`·.·

𝖸𝗈𝗎’𝗏𝖾 𝖻𝖾𝖾𝗇 𝗌𝗂𝗍𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗈𝗇 𝖧𝖺𝗐𝗄𝖾𝗒𝖾’𝗌 𝖼𝗈𝗍 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝖺 𝖽𝗂𝗆𝖾 𝖻𝗈𝗈𝗄 𝗂𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗁𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗇𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗅𝗒 𝖺𝗇 𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗋, 𝗁𝖺𝗅𝖿-𝗅𝗂𝗌𝗍𝖾𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗎𝗋𝗀𝖾𝗈𝗇 𝗅𝗈𝗌𝖾𝗌 𝗁𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖺𝖿𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝗁𝖺𝗇𝖽. 𝖸𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖾𝗒𝖾𝗌 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾𝗇’𝗍 𝗅𝖾𝖿𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗇 𝗉𝖺𝗀𝖾𝗌, 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝖳𝗋𝖺𝗉𝗉𝖾𝗋’𝗌 𝖼𝖺𝖼𝗄𝗅𝖾𝗌, 𝖺𝗌 𝖼𝖺𝗋𝖽𝗌 𝗁𝗂𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗍𝖺𝖻𝗅𝖾, 𝗀𝗂𝗏𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖺 𝗉𝗋𝖾𝗍𝗍𝗒 𝗀𝗈𝗈𝖽 𝗀𝗎𝖾𝗌𝗌 𝖺𝗌 𝗍𝗈 𝗁𝗈𝗐 𝖧𝖺𝗐𝗄𝖾𝗒𝖾’𝗌 𝗇𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝗂𝗌 𝗀𝗈𝗂𝗇𝗀.

“𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝗄𝗇𝗈𝗐 𝗐𝗁𝖺𝗍, 𝖳𝗋𝖺𝗉𝗉𝖾𝗋, 𝖨’𝗆 𝖽𝗈𝗇𝖾! 𝖬𝗒 𝗀𝖺𝗆𝖻𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗐𝖺𝗒𝗌 𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗉 𝗇𝗈𝗐,” 𝖧𝖺𝗐𝗄𝖾𝗒𝖾 𝖾𝗑𝖼𝗅𝖺𝗂𝗆𝗌 𝖺𝗌 𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗌, 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗂𝗋 𝗌𝖼𝗋𝖺𝗍𝖼𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝗀𝖺𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗉𝗅𝗒𝗐𝗈𝗈𝖽 𝖿𝗅𝗈𝗈𝗋. 𝖸𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗀𝖺𝗓𝖾 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝖽𝗋𝗂𝖿𝗍𝗌 𝗎𝗉, 𝖼𝖺𝗍𝖼𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗌𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝗈𝖿 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝗋𝗈𝖻𝖾 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗉𝗎𝗌𝗁𝖾𝖽-𝖻𝖺𝖼𝗄 𝗁𝖺𝗂𝗋. 𝖠 𝗀𝗂𝗀𝗀𝗅𝖾 𝖿𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗌 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗅𝗂𝗉𝗌, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗐𝗂𝗅𝖽 𝖾𝗒𝖾𝗌 𝗂𝗆𝗆𝖾𝖽𝗂𝖺𝗍𝖾𝗅𝗒 𝗆𝖾𝖾𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋𝗌.” 𝖶𝗁𝖺𝗍’𝗋𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗅𝖺𝗎𝗀𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝗍?”

“𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝗌𝖺𝗒 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒 𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗁𝗂𝗍 𝖺 𝗌𝗍𝗋𝗈𝗄𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝖻𝖺𝖽 𝗅𝗎𝖼𝗄, 𝖡𝖾𝗇.” 𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝗉𝗅𝖺𝖼𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖻𝗈𝗈𝗄𝗆𝖺𝗋𝗄—𝗐𝗁𝗂𝖼𝗁 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝖺 𝗌𝗍𝗋𝖺𝗉 𝗍𝗈 𝖺 𝖻𝗋𝗈𝗄𝖾𝗇 𝗌𝗎𝗋𝗀𝗂𝖼𝖺𝗅 𝗆𝖺𝗌𝗄—𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗉𝗂𝗇𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗇𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗅 𝖻𝖾𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝗌𝖾𝗍𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗂𝗍 𝖺𝗌𝗂𝖽𝖾.” 𝖸𝗈𝗎’𝗅𝗅 𝖻𝖾 𝖻𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺 𝖽𝖾𝖼𝗄 𝖺𝗀𝖺𝗂𝗇 𝖺𝖿𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝗉𝗈𝗌𝗍-𝗈𝗉 𝗍𝗈𝗆𝗈𝗋𝗋𝗈𝗐 𝗇𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍.”

“𝖨’𝗅𝗅 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗄𝗇𝗈𝗐, 𝖨’𝗆 𝖺 𝗆𝖺𝗇 𝗈𝖿 𝗆𝗒 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝖽!” 𝖧𝖺𝗐𝗄𝖾𝗒𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗀𝗌 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝗀𝖾𝗋 𝗂𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖽𝗂𝗋𝖾𝖼𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇.

𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝗎𝗋𝗅𝗒 𝖻𝗅𝗈𝗇𝖽𝖾 𝖿𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗌 𝖻𝖺𝖼𝗄 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝗈 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗌𝖾𝖺𝗍, 𝖼𝖺𝖼𝗄𝗅𝖾𝗌 𝖻𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝖽𝗌 𝖺𝗌 𝗁𝖾 𝖺𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗆𝗉𝗍𝗌 𝗍𝗈 𝗌𝖺𝗒,” 𝖮𝗁, 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒? 𝖶𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗁𝖺𝗉𝗉𝖾𝗇𝖾𝖽 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗌𝖺𝗂𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝖽𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝖽𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀?”

“𝖮𝗋 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗌𝗆𝗈𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖼𝗂𝗀𝖺𝗋𝗌,” 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖼𝗁𝗂𝗆𝖾 𝗂𝗇, 𝖺 𝗀𝗋𝗂𝗇 𝖼𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗈 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗅𝗂𝗉𝗌. 𝖧𝖾 𝗄𝗇𝗈𝗐𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗁𝖺𝗍𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗆𝗈𝗄𝖾𝗒 𝗍𝖺𝗌𝗍𝖾 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗄𝗂𝗌𝗌 𝗁𝗂𝗆. 𝖠𝗇𝖽 𝗐𝗁𝗂𝗅𝖾 𝖧𝖺𝗐𝗄𝖾𝗒𝖾 𝗁𝖺𝗌 𝗊𝗎𝗂𝗍 𝗌𝗆𝗈𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗈𝗇 𝖻𝖺𝗌𝖾, 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝖻𝖾𝖾𝗇 𝗉𝗅𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗒 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾𝗌 𝗁𝖾’𝗌 𝗋𝖾𝗍𝗎𝗋𝗇𝖾𝖽 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝖿𝖾𝗋𝖾𝗇𝖼𝖾𝗌 𝗂𝗇 𝖳𝗈𝗄𝗒𝗈 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖿𝖺𝗆𝗂𝗅𝗂𝖺𝗋 𝗍𝖺𝗌𝗍𝖾 𝗈𝗇 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗅𝗂𝗉𝗌.

“𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝖼𝖺𝗇’𝗍 𝗀𝖺𝗇𝗀 𝗎𝗉 𝗈𝗇 𝗆𝖾! 𝖳𝗁𝖺𝗍’𝗌 𝖺𝗀𝖺𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖦𝖾𝗇𝖾𝗏𝖺 𝖢𝗈𝗇𝗏𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌,” 𝖧𝖺𝗐𝗄𝖾𝗒𝖾 𝗋𝖾𝗆𝖺𝗋𝗄𝗌, 𝗆𝖺𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗋-𝗈𝖿-𝖿𝖺𝖼𝗍.

“𝖭𝗈, 𝖨 𝖽𝗈𝗇’𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗄 𝗌𝗈. 𝖶𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝖽𝗈 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗄, 𝖸/𝗇,” 𝖳𝗋𝖺𝗉𝗉𝖾𝗋 𝖼𝗋𝖺𝗇𝖾𝗌 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗅𝗈𝗈𝗄 𝗉𝖺𝗌𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖿𝗎𝗋𝗇𝖺𝖼𝖾, 𝗆𝖾𝖾𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗇𝖺𝗋𝗋𝗈𝗐𝖾𝖽 𝖾𝗒𝖾𝗌.

𝖰𝗎𝗂𝖼𝗄𝗅𝗒, 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗌𝗁𝖺𝗄𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝖽.” 𝖭𝗈𝗉𝖾. 𝖭𝗈𝗍 𝖺 𝗐𝖺𝗋 𝖼𝗋𝗂𝗆𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝖺𝗎𝗇𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎, 𝖧𝖺𝗐𝗄𝖾𝗒𝖾.”

“𝖩𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝗀𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗍!” 𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗎𝗋𝗀𝖾𝗈𝗇 𝖼𝗈𝗅𝗅𝖺𝗉𝗌𝖾𝗌 𝖻𝖺𝖼𝗄 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝗈 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗌𝖾𝖺𝗍, 𝗍𝗁𝗋𝗈𝗐𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗁𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗌 𝗎𝗉.” 𝖬𝗒 𝖻𝖾𝗌𝗍 𝗉𝖺𝗅 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗆𝗒 𝗀𝗂𝗋𝗅 𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝖺𝗀𝖺𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗍 𝗆𝖾. 𝖶𝗁𝖺𝗍𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗐𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝖨 𝖽𝗈?”

𝖸𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗅𝗂𝗉𝗌 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝗍, 𝗍𝖾𝖺𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝖽𝗌 𝗈𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗍𝗂𝗉 𝗈𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗍𝗈𝗇𝗀𝗎𝖾 𝖺𝗌 𝖺 𝗄𝗇𝗈𝖼𝗄 𝖾𝖼𝗁𝗈𝖾𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗍𝖾𝗇𝗍. 𝖠 𝗌𝗆𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗌𝗁𝖺𝖽𝗈𝗐 𝖼𝖺𝗌𝗍𝗌 𝖺𝖼𝗋𝗈𝗌𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗍𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝖿𝗅𝖺𝗉𝗌. 𝖳𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾’𝗌 𝗇𝗈 𝗊𝗎𝖾𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇 𝖺𝗌 𝗍𝗈 𝗐𝗁𝗈 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗏𝗂𝗌𝗂𝗍𝗈𝗋 𝗂𝗌.” 𝖢𝗈𝗆𝖾 𝗂𝗇, 𝖱𝖺𝖽𝖺𝗋.”

𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇 𝗉𝗅𝗒𝗐𝗈𝗈𝖽 𝗌𝗐𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗌 𝗈𝗉𝖾𝗇, 𝗋𝖾𝗏𝖾𝖺𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖢𝗈𝗋𝗉𝗈𝗋𝖺𝗅 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝖺 𝗌𝖼𝖺𝗋𝖿 𝗐𝗋𝖺𝗉𝗉𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗇𝖽 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗇𝖾𝖼𝗄 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖺 𝖼𝖺𝗉 𝗍𝗎𝗀𝗀𝖾𝖽 𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗌. 𝖨𝗍 𝗂𝗌𝗇’𝗍 𝖿𝗋𝗂𝗀𝗂𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖺𝖿𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗇𝗈𝗈𝗇, 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝖱𝖺𝖽𝖺𝗋 𝖺𝗅𝗐𝖺𝗒𝗌 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾𝗌 𝗍𝗈 𝖻𝖾 𝗉𝗋𝖾𝗉𝖺𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗌𝗍.

“𝖣𝗈𝖼𝗍𝗈𝗋,” 𝗁𝖾 𝗀𝗋𝖾𝖾𝗍𝗌, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝗋𝖾𝖾 𝗉𝖺𝗂𝗋𝗌 𝗈𝖿 𝖾𝗒𝖾𝗌 𝗂𝗆𝗆𝖾𝖽𝗂𝖺𝗍𝖾𝗅𝗒 𝗌𝗇𝖺𝗉 𝗍𝗈 𝗁𝗂𝗆. 𝖱𝖺𝖽𝖺𝗋 𝗌𝗍𝗎𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗌 𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝖽𝗌 𝖻𝖾𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝗌𝗉𝖾𝖼𝗂𝖿𝗒𝗂𝗇𝗀.” 𝖣𝗈𝖼𝗍𝗈𝗋 𝗆𝖺’𝖺𝗆.”

“𝖶𝗁𝖺𝗍’𝗌 𝗐𝗋𝗈𝗇𝗀, 𝖱𝖺𝖽𝖺𝗋,” 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖺𝗌𝗄, 𝗍𝗁𝗋𝗈𝗐𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖻𝗈𝗈𝗍-𝖼𝗅𝖺𝖽 𝖿𝖾𝖾𝗍 𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖾𝖽𝗀𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗍. 𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗈𝗎𝗇𝖽 𝗈𝖿 𝖼𝗁𝗈𝗉𝗉𝖾𝗋𝗌 𝖿𝗅𝗒𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝖺𝗆𝗉 𝗁𝖺𝗌𝗇’𝗍 𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗈𝗇𝖺𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗈𝖿𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗏𝖺𝗅𝗅𝖾𝗒 𝗐𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗌 𝗂𝗇 𝗇𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗅𝗒 𝗍𝗐𝖾𝗅𝗏𝖾 𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗋𝗌, 𝗌𝗈 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗄𝗇𝗈𝗐 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝗈𝗎𝗇𝖽𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝗋𝖾𝗇'𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗌𝗈𝗇 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝖱𝖺𝖽𝖺𝗋’𝗌 𝗉𝗋𝖾𝗌𝖾𝗇𝖼𝖾. 𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗋𝗒 𝗆𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗇 𝗄𝗇𝗈𝗐𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖼𝖺𝗌𝗎𝖺𝗅𝗍𝗂𝖾𝗌 𝖺𝗐𝖺𝗂𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗈𝗉𝖾𝗋𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗋𝗈𝗈𝗆.

“𝖬𝖺’𝖺𝗆, 𝖺 𝗅𝗈𝖼𝖺𝗅 𝗁𝖺𝗌 𝖻𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝖻𝖺𝖻𝗒 𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗁𝗈𝗌𝗉𝗂𝗍𝖺𝗅. 𝖲𝗁𝖾’𝗌 𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗋𝗂𝖻𝗅𝗒 𝗌𝗂𝖼𝗄, 𝗆𝖺’𝖺𝗆,” 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖢𝗈𝗋��𝗈𝗋𝖺𝗅 𝖾𝗑𝗉𝗅𝖺𝗂𝗇𝗌, 𝗁𝗈𝗅𝖽𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖼𝗅𝗂𝗉𝖻𝗈𝖺𝗋𝖽 𝗍𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖼𝗁𝖾𝗌𝗍.

𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗇𝖽, 𝗀𝗋𝖺𝖻𝖻𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗇𝖾𝖺𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗍 𝖺𝗋𝗆𝗒 𝗃𝖺𝖼𝗄𝖾𝗍 𝖺𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖾𝗇𝖽 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗍. 𝖶𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗉𝗎𝗅𝗅 𝗂𝗍 𝗈𝗇, 𝗂𝗍 𝗌𝗍𝗋𝖾𝗍𝖼𝗁𝖾𝗌 𝖿𝖺𝗋 𝗉𝖺𝗌𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗐𝗋𝗂𝗌𝗍𝗌, 𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖼𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗍𝗈 𝖻𝗎𝗇𝖼𝗁 𝗎𝗉 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖿𝖺𝖻𝗋𝗂𝖼 𝖺𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖾𝗅𝖻𝗈𝗐. 𝖲𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋𝖺𝗅 𝗆𝖾𝗍𝖺𝗅 𝖻𝗎𝗍𝗍𝗈𝗇𝗌 𝖺𝗉𝗉𝗋𝗈𝖺𝖼𝗁 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗆𝗂𝖽-𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗀𝗁, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗂𝗍’𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗅𝗂𝗓𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗀𝖺𝗋𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝗂𝗌 𝖧𝖺𝗐𝗄𝖾𝗒𝖾’𝗌. 𝖠𝗅𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁, 𝖺𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖿𝗈𝗅𝗅𝗈𝗐 𝖱𝖺𝖽𝖺𝗋 𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖽𝗈𝗈𝗋, 𝗂𝗍’𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖿𝖺𝗋𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗌𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗆𝗂𝗇𝖽.

“𝖶𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗂𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗆𝗈𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖼𝗁𝗂𝗅𝖽,” 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗊𝗎𝖾𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇 𝖺𝗌 𝗁𝖾 𝗅𝖾𝖺𝖽𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗍𝗁𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗆𝗎𝖽𝖽𝗒 𝖼𝖺𝗆𝗉. 𝖠 𝗋𝖺𝗂𝗇 𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗋𝗆 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝗉𝖺𝗌𝗌𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗇𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝖻𝖾𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖾, 𝗆𝖺𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗂𝗍 𝗇𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗅𝗒 𝗂𝗆𝗉𝗈𝗌𝗌𝗂𝖻𝗅𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝗋𝖺𝗏𝖾𝗅 𝗍𝗁𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝖺𝗆𝗉 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗆𝗎𝖽 𝗌𝗉𝗅𝖺𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗈𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗁𝖾𝗆 𝗈𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗉𝖺𝗇𝗍𝗌.

𝖧𝖺𝗐𝗄𝖾𝗒𝖾 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖳𝗋𝖺𝗉𝗉𝖾𝗋 𝖿𝗈𝗅𝗅𝗈𝗐 𝖼𝗅𝗈𝗌𝖾 𝖻𝖾𝗁𝗂𝗇𝖽, 𝗃𝗈𝗀𝗀𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺 𝖿𝖾𝗐 𝗌𝗍𝖾𝗉𝗌 𝗍𝗈 𝖼𝖺𝗍𝖼𝗁 𝗎𝗉. 𝖳𝗋𝖺𝗉𝗉𝖾𝗋’𝗌 𝗒𝖾𝗅𝗅𝗈𝗐 𝗋𝗈𝖻𝖾 𝗁𝖺𝗌 𝖻𝖾𝖾𝗇 𝗋𝖾𝗉𝗅𝖺𝖼𝖾𝖽 𝖻𝗒 𝖺𝗇 𝗂𝖽𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗂𝖼𝖺𝗅 𝖺𝗋𝗆𝗒 𝗃𝖺𝖼𝗄𝖾𝗍, 𝗐𝗁𝗂𝗅𝖾 𝖧𝖺𝗐𝗄𝖾𝗒𝖾 𝗌𝗍𝗂𝖼𝗄𝗌 𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝖾𝖺 𝗈𝖿 𝗀𝗋𝖾𝖾𝗇 𝗂𝗇 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝗋𝗈𝖻𝖾. 𝖧𝖾’𝗅𝗅 𝖿𝗎𝗌𝗌 𝖺𝖻𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖽𝗂𝗋𝗍 𝗈𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖾𝖽𝗀𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗋𝗈𝖻𝖾 𝗅𝖺𝗍𝖾𝗋, 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗇𝗈𝗐, 𝖯𝗂𝖾𝗋𝖼𝖾 𝖿𝗈𝗅𝗅𝗈𝗐𝗌 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝖺 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗉𝗅𝖺𝗂𝗇𝗍.

“𝖳𝗁𝖾𝗒’𝗋𝖾 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗈𝗉𝖾𝗋𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗋𝗈𝗈𝗆. 𝖠𝗅𝗅 𝗉𝗈𝗌𝗍-𝗈𝗉 𝖻𝖾𝖽𝗌 𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝖿𝗎𝗅𝗅, 𝗌𝗈 𝗂𝗍’𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗈𝗇𝗅𝗒 𝗉𝗅𝖺𝖼𝖾 𝗐𝖾 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾.” 𝖱𝖺𝖽𝖺𝗋 𝗉𝗎𝗌𝗁𝖾𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖽𝗈𝗎𝖻𝗅𝖾 𝖽𝗈𝗈𝗋𝗌 𝗈𝗉𝖾𝗇, 𝗌𝗁𝗎𝖿𝖿𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖾𝗆𝗉𝗍𝗒 𝗐𝖺𝗋𝖽.

𝖶𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖾𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗈𝗉𝖾𝗋𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗋𝗈𝗈𝗆, 𝖦𝗂𝗇𝗀𝖾𝗋 𝗀𝗋𝖾𝖾𝗍𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝖺 𝗌𝗈𝖿𝗍 𝗌𝗆𝗂𝗅𝖾. 𝖲𝗁𝖾 𝗇𝗈𝖽𝗌 𝗍𝗈𝗐𝖺𝗋𝖽𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗉𝖺𝖼𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗆𝗈𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋, 𝗐𝗁𝗈 𝖽𝖾𝗌𝗉𝖾𝗋𝖺𝗍𝖾𝗅𝗒 𝗋𝗈𝖼𝗄𝗌 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝖻𝖺𝖻𝗒 𝗂𝗇 𝖺 𝗌𝗍𝗋𝗎𝗀𝗀𝗅𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝖼𝖺𝗅𝗆 𝗁𝖾𝗋. 𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝗂𝗇𝖿𝖺𝗇𝗍—𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝗆𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝗋𝖾𝖾 𝗆𝗈𝗇𝗍𝗁𝗌—𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗎𝖾𝗌 𝗍𝗈 𝖼𝗋𝗒 𝗈𝗎𝗍, 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝖿𝖺𝖼𝖾 𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝗂𝗇 𝖿𝗋𝗎𝗌𝗍𝗋𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇.

“𝖱𝖺𝖽𝖺𝗋, 𝖼𝖺𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗀𝗈 𝗀𝖾𝗍 𝗆𝗒 𝗆𝖾𝖽𝗂𝖼𝖺𝗅 𝖻𝖺𝗀? 𝖨𝗍’𝗌 𝗈𝗇 𝗆𝗒 𝖼𝗈𝗍.” 𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝗍𝗎𝗋𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝖽 𝗍𝗈𝗐𝖺𝗋𝖽𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖢𝗈𝗋𝗉𝗈𝗋𝖺𝗅, 𝗐𝗁𝗈 𝗋𝖺𝗉𝗂𝖽𝗅𝗒 𝗇𝗈𝖽𝗌 𝗂𝗇 𝗋𝖾𝗍𝗎𝗋𝗇.

“𝖸𝖾𝗌, 𝗈𝖿 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗋𝗌𝖾, 𝗆𝖺’𝖺𝗆.” 𝖱𝖺𝖽𝖺𝗋 𝗉𝗎𝗌𝗁𝖾𝗌 𝖻𝖾𝗍𝗐𝖾𝖾𝗇 𝖳𝗋𝖺𝗉𝗉𝖾𝗋 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖧𝖺𝗐𝗄𝖾𝗒𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗏𝖾, 𝖻𝖺𝗋𝖾𝗅𝗒 𝗀𝗋𝖺𝗓𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗂𝗋 𝗌𝗂𝖽𝖾𝗌.

𝖧𝖾𝗌𝗂𝗍𝖺𝗇𝗍𝗅𝗒, 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖺𝗉𝗉𝗋𝗈𝖺𝖼𝗁 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖿𝗋𝖺𝗇𝗍𝗂𝖼 𝗆𝗈𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝖺 𝗌𝗈𝖿𝗍 𝗌𝗆𝗂𝗅𝖾. 𝖧𝖾𝗋 𝗁𝖺𝗂𝗋 𝗂𝗌 𝗉𝗎𝗅𝗅𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝗐𝖺𝗒 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝖿𝖺𝖼𝖾, 𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗈𝗐𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝖽𝖺𝗋𝗄 𝖼𝗂𝗋𝖼𝗅𝖾𝗌 𝗍𝗈 𝖻𝖾 𝗈𝗇 𝖿𝗎𝗅𝗅 𝖽𝗂𝗌𝗉𝗅𝖺𝗒 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝗉𝖾𝖾𝗋𝗌 𝗎𝗉, 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗌𝗐𝖾𝖺𝗋 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗌𝖾𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗍𝖾𝗇𝗌𝗂𝗈𝗇 𝗂𝗇 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽𝖾𝗋𝗌 𝗆𝖾𝗅𝗍 𝖺𝗐𝖺𝗒.

“𝖧𝗂, 𝖨’𝗆 𝖣𝗋. 𝖫/𝗇. 𝖢𝗈𝗋𝗉𝗈𝗋𝖺𝗅 𝖮’𝖱𝖾𝗂𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝗌𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗆𝖾. 𝖧𝖾 𝗍𝗈𝗅𝖽 𝗆𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖻𝖺𝖻𝗒 𝗂𝗌 𝗌𝗂𝖼𝗄,” 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗌𝗅𝗈𝗐𝗅𝗒 𝗌𝖺𝗒, 𝗁𝗈𝗉𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗅𝗈𝖼𝖺𝗅 𝗄𝗇𝗈𝗐𝗌 𝖺 𝗌𝗆𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝖺𝗆𝗈𝗎𝗇𝗍 𝗈𝖿 𝖤𝗇𝗀𝗅𝗂𝗌𝗁. 𝖨𝗍 𝗆𝖺𝗄𝖾𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗉𝗋𝗈𝖼𝖾𝗌𝗌 𝖾𝖺𝗌𝗂𝖾𝗋—𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗆𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝖼𝖺𝗅𝗆𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗆𝗈𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝗈𝗈.

“𝖸𝖾𝗌, 𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒.” 𝖲𝗁𝖾 𝗇𝗈𝖽𝗌, 𝖺 𝗐𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝗋𝖾𝗅𝗂𝖾𝖿 𝗐𝖺𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝖾𝗒𝖾𝗌. 𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝖻𝖺𝖻𝗒 𝗅𝖾𝗍𝗌 𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝖺𝗇𝗈𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗂𝗇𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗌𝗈𝗅𝖺𝖻𝗅𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗂𝗅 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗉𝗂𝖾𝗋𝖼𝖾𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗌, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗍𝖾𝗇𝗌𝗂𝗈𝗇 𝗏𝗂𝗌𝗂𝖻𝗅𝗒 𝗋𝖾𝗍𝗎𝗋𝗇𝗌 𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗆𝗈𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋’𝗌 𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽𝖾𝗋𝗌.

𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝗍𝖺𝗄𝖾 𝖺 𝗌𝗍𝖾𝗉 𝖿𝗈𝗋𝗐𝖺𝗋𝖽.“ 𝖬𝖺𝗒 𝖨 𝗁𝗈𝗅𝖽 𝗁𝖾𝗋?” 𝖨𝗆𝗆𝖾𝖽𝗂𝖺𝗍𝖾𝗅𝗒, 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝗉𝗎𝗌𝗁𝖾𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗂𝗇𝖿𝖺𝗇𝗍 𝖺𝗀𝖺𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖼𝗁𝖾𝗌𝗍, 𝗅𝖾𝗍𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝖺 𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗒 𝗁𝗎𝖿𝖿.” 𝖧𝖾𝗅𝗅𝗈, 𝗌𝗐𝖾𝖾𝗍𝗉𝖾𝖺,” 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖼𝗈𝗈, 𝗀𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗅𝗒 𝗉𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗒 𝖺𝖻𝖽𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗇.

𝖱𝖺𝖽𝖺𝗋 𝗋𝗎𝗌𝗁𝖾𝗌 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗋𝗈𝗈𝗆, 𝖻𝗋𝗎𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗉𝖺𝗌𝗍 𝖳𝗋𝖺𝗉𝗉𝖾𝗋 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖧𝖺𝗐𝗄𝖾𝗒𝖾, 𝗐𝗁𝗈 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝖽𝖾𝖼𝗂𝖽𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗁𝖺𝗇𝗀 𝖻𝖺𝖼𝗄. 𝖧𝖾 𝗌𝖾𝗍𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖺𝗋𝗆𝗒 𝗀𝗋𝖾𝖾𝗇 𝗆𝖾𝖽𝗂𝖼𝖺𝗅 𝖻𝖺𝗀 𝗈𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗈𝗉𝖾𝗋𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝖺𝖻𝗅𝖾 𝖻𝖾𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎.” 𝖧𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗀𝗈, 𝖽𝗈𝖼𝗍𝗈𝗋 𝗆𝖺’𝖺𝗆.”

“𝖳𝗁𝖺𝗇𝗄 𝗒𝗈𝗎, 𝖱𝖺𝖽𝖺𝗋. 𝖳𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾’𝗌 𝖺 𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝖼𝖺𝗌𝖾 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗆𝗒 𝗂𝗇𝗂𝗍𝗂𝖺𝗅𝗌 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗆𝗉𝖾𝖽 𝗈𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗋𝗇𝖾𝗋. 𝖨𝗍 𝗁𝗈𝗅𝖽𝗌 𝗆𝗒 𝗈𝗍𝗈𝗌𝖼𝗈𝗉𝖾—“

“𝖦𝗈𝗍 𝗂𝗍, 𝗆𝖺’𝖺𝗆.” 𝖧𝖾 𝗈𝗉𝖾𝗇𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖿𝗅𝖺𝗉, 𝖽𝗂𝗀𝗀𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖻𝖺𝗀 𝖻𝖾𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝗉𝗎𝗅𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗇 𝖼𝖺𝗌𝖾. 𝖨𝗍’𝗌 𝖽𝗂𝗌𝖼𝗈𝗅𝗈𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖼𝗋𝖺𝖼𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝖿𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝗒𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗌 𝗈𝖿 𝗎𝗌𝖾, 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝗂𝗍 𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝗈𝗉𝖾𝗇𝗌 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝖾𝖺𝗌𝖾.” 𝖧𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗀𝗈.”

“𝖸𝗈𝗎’𝗋𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖻𝖾𝗌𝗍 𝗇𝗎𝗋𝗌𝖾, 𝖱𝖺𝖽𝖺𝗋,” 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗍𝖾𝖺𝗌𝖾, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖼𝗁𝖾𝖾𝗄𝗌 𝗀𝗋𝗈𝗐 𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝗌 𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗁𝗎𝖿𝖿𝗅𝖾𝗌 𝖺𝗐𝖺𝗒. 𝖧𝖺𝗐𝗄𝖾𝗒𝖾 𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗇𝗌 𝖺 𝗁𝖺𝗋𝗌𝗁 𝗇𝗎𝖽𝗀𝖾 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝖳𝗋𝖺𝗉𝗉𝖾𝗋 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗍𝗂𝖿𝗅𝖾𝗌 𝖺 𝗅𝖺𝗎𝗀𝗁.” 𝖫𝖾𝗍’𝗌 𝗅𝗈𝗈𝗄 𝗂𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗌, 𝗌𝗁𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗐𝖾?”

𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝗅𝗂𝗍𝗍𝗅𝖾 𝗀𝗂𝗋𝗅 𝖼𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗌 𝖺𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗁𝖺𝗋𝖽 𝗉𝗅𝖺𝗌𝗍𝗂𝖼 𝗋𝗎𝖻𝗌 𝖺𝗀𝖺𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗍 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗌𝗆𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗌. 𝖸𝗈𝗎’𝗋𝖾 𝖺𝖻𝗅𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝗀𝖾𝗍 𝖺 𝖽𝖾𝖼𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝗅𝗈𝗈𝗄 𝖺𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗋𝖾𝖽, 𝖺𝗀𝗂𝗍𝖺𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝖾𝖺𝗋𝖽𝗋𝗎𝗆 𝖻𝖾𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝗋𝖺𝗌𝗁𝖾𝗌 𝖺𝗐𝖺𝗒. 𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝖼𝗈𝗈, 𝗌𝖾𝗍𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖽𝗈𝗐𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖽𝖾𝗏𝗂𝖼𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝗉𝗋𝗈𝗉𝖾𝗋𝗅𝗒 𝗋𝗈𝖼𝗄 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝖻𝖺𝖼𝗄 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝗈 𝖺 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗍𝖾. 𝖫𝗎𝖼𝗄𝗂𝗅𝗒, 𝗂𝗍 𝗁𝖺𝗉𝗉𝖾𝗇𝗌 𝗋𝖺𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗊𝗎𝗂𝖼𝗄𝗅𝗒.

“𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗅𝗈𝗈𝗄 𝗂𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖾𝗒𝖾𝗌, 𝖧𝖺𝗐𝗄,” 𝖳𝗋𝖺𝗉𝗉𝖾𝗋 𝗆𝗎𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗌, 𝗅𝗈𝗐𝖾𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝖽 𝗌𝗈 𝗈𝗇𝗅𝗒 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖻𝖾𝗌𝗍 𝖿𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗇𝖽 𝖼𝖺𝗇 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗋. 𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝖻𝗅𝖺𝖼𝗄-𝗁𝖺𝗂𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝗆𝖺𝗇 𝗌𝗇𝖺𝗉𝗌 𝗍𝗈𝗐𝖺𝗋𝖽𝗌 𝗁𝗂𝗆, 𝖻𝗋𝗈𝗐𝗌 𝗋𝖺𝗂𝗌𝖾𝖽 𝗂𝗇 𝖼𝗎𝗋𝗂𝗈𝗌𝗂𝗍𝗒.

“𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝗈𝗇𝗅𝗒 𝗅𝗈𝗈𝗄 𝖨 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝗂𝗌 𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝗋𝗂𝗀𝗎𝖾,” 𝗁𝖾 𝖽𝖾𝖿𝖾𝗇𝖽𝗌, 𝗋𝖺𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗊𝗎𝗂𝖼𝗄𝗅𝗒, 𝖳𝗋𝖺𝗉𝗉𝖾𝗋 𝗐𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝖺𝖽𝖽.” 𝖨’𝗏𝖾 ���𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗌𝖾𝖾𝗇 𝗌𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝖼𝖺𝗅𝗆 𝖺 𝖻𝖺𝖻𝗒 𝗌𝗈 𝖿𝖺𝗌𝗍.”

“𝖸𝖾𝖺𝗁, 𝗋𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍.” 𝖳𝗋𝖺𝗉𝗉𝖾𝗋 𝗌𝖼𝗈𝖿𝖿𝗌.” 𝖳𝗁𝖺𝗍’𝗌 𝖺 𝗅𝗈𝗈𝗄 𝗈𝖿 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾 𝗂𝖿 𝖨’𝗏𝖾 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗌𝖾𝖾𝗇 𝗈𝗇𝖾.”

“𝖶𝖾𝗅𝗅, 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾𝗇’𝗍, 𝖾𝗌𝗉𝖾𝖼𝗂𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾,” 𝖯𝗂𝖾𝗋𝖼𝖾 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗆𝗆𝖾𝗋𝗌. 𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝗂𝖽𝖾𝖺 𝖽𝗈𝖾𝗌𝗇’𝗍 𝗌𝖼𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝗁𝗂𝗆—𝗂𝗍’𝗌 𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝖽𝗂𝖿𝖿𝖾𝗋𝖾𝗇𝗍, 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍’𝗌 𝖺𝗅𝗅. 𝖧𝖾 𝖽𝗂𝖽𝗇’𝗍 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝖪𝗈𝗋𝖾𝖺 𝗍𝗈 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝖽 𝖺 𝗐𝗂𝖿𝖾, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗂𝖿 𝗁𝖾 𝖽𝗂𝖽, 𝗁𝖾 𝗇𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗒’𝖽 𝖻𝖾 𝖺 𝖿𝖾𝗅𝗅𝗈𝗐 𝗌𝗎𝗋𝗀𝖾𝗈𝗇. 𝖠 𝗇𝗎𝗋𝗌𝖾, 𝗆𝖺𝗒𝖻𝖾, 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝖺 𝗉𝖾𝖽𝗂𝖺𝗍𝗋𝗂𝖼 𝗌𝗎𝗋𝗀𝖾𝗈𝗇.

𝖡𝗎𝗍 𝖺𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗂𝗇 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗃𝖺𝖼𝗄𝖾𝗍 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝖺 𝖻𝖺𝖻𝗒 𝗂𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖺𝗋𝗆𝗌, 𝖺 𝗌𝖾𝗇𝗌𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝖿𝗈𝗋𝗍 𝗍𝖺𝗄𝖾𝗌 𝗁𝗂𝗆. 𝖧𝖺𝗐𝗄𝖾𝗒𝖾 𝖼𝖺𝗇 𝗂𝗆𝖺𝗀𝗂𝗇𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝖺𝗆𝖾 𝗌𝖼𝖾𝗇𝖾 𝗂𝗇 𝖺 𝖿𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗁𝗅𝗒 𝗉𝖺𝗂𝗇𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗄𝗂𝗍𝖼𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝖼𝗎𝗋𝗍𝖺𝗂𝗇𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗌𝖾𝗐𝖾𝖽 𝗁𝖺𝗇𝗀𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝗂𝗇𝖽𝗈𝗐 𝖺𝖻𝗈𝗏𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗄. 𝖠 𝗉𝗂𝖼𝗍𝗎𝗋𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖿𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗇𝖽𝗌 𝖺𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝟦𝟢𝟩𝟩𝗍𝗁 𝗌𝗂𝗍𝗌 𝗈𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝖻𝖾𝗌𝗂𝖽𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗋𝖾𝗍𝗂𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝖽𝗈𝗀 𝗍𝖺𝗀𝗌, 𝗋𝖾𝖿𝗅𝖾𝖼𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗅𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗌𝗍𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗆𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖿𝗅𝗈𝗋𝖺𝗅 𝖿𝖺𝖻𝗋𝗂𝖼.

“𝖲𝗈 𝗐𝗁𝗂𝖼𝗁 𝗂𝗌 𝗂𝗍? 𝖠𝗋𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗂𝗆𝖺𝗀𝗂𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗇𝗎𝗋𝗌𝖾𝗋𝗒 𝗈𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗍𝗋𝖾𝖾𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗌𝖾 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖻𝖺𝖼𝗄𝗒𝖺𝗋𝖽,” 𝖳𝗋𝖺𝗉𝗉𝖾𝗋 𝗃𝖾𝗌𝗍𝗌, 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗋𝗎𝗉𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗉𝖾𝗋𝖿𝖾𝖼𝗍 𝗌𝖼𝖾𝗇𝖾 𝖧𝖺𝗐𝗄𝖾𝗒𝖾 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝗉𝖺𝗂𝗇𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗂𝗇 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗆𝗂𝗇𝖽?

“𝖭𝖾𝗂𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋—𝗂𝗍 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝖻𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗄𝖿𝖺𝗌𝗍 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗄𝗂𝗍𝖼𝗁𝖾𝗇. 𝖶𝗁𝗂𝗍𝖾 𝖼𝖺𝖻𝗂𝗇𝖾𝗍𝗌, 𝖻𝗅𝗎𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗌, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖺 𝖽𝗈𝗀 𝖻𝗈𝗐𝗅 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗋𝗇𝖾𝗋. 𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝗁𝗈𝗅𝖾 𝗌𝗁𝖺-𝖻𝖺𝗇𝗀.” 𝖧𝖺𝗐𝗄𝖾𝗒𝖾 𝗋𝖾𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗌𝖾𝗌 𝖺 𝖽𝖾𝖾𝗉 𝖻𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗍𝗁, 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗉𝗈𝗌𝗍𝗎𝗋𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗅𝗅𝖺𝗉𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝗌 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽𝖾𝗋𝗌 𝖽𝗋𝗈𝗉.

𝖧𝗂𝗌 𝗀𝖺𝗓𝖾 𝗇𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗌𝗍𝗋𝖺𝗒𝗌 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖺𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗈𝖿𝖿𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝗈 𝗀𝗂𝗏𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗆𝗈𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝖺 𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗋𝗍 𝖻𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗄. 𝖦𝗂𝗇𝗀𝖾𝗋 𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗏𝖾𝗌 𝗍𝗈 𝖿𝖾𝗍𝖼𝗁 𝖺𝗇𝗍𝗂𝖻𝗂𝗈𝗍𝗂𝖼𝗌 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗐𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎’𝗏𝖾 𝖽𝗂𝖺𝗀𝗇𝗈𝗌𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝗌 𝖺 𝗌𝗂𝗆𝗉𝗅𝖾 𝖾𝖺𝗋 𝗂𝗇𝖿𝖾𝖼𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇.

“𝖮𝗁, 𝖧𝖺𝗐𝗄. 𝖳𝗁𝖺𝗍’𝗌 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝗌𝗈𝗆𝖾 𝗉𝗎𝗉𝗉𝗒 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾. 𝖸𝗈𝗎’𝗋𝖾 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝖽 𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗁𝖾𝖾𝗅𝗌 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗁𝖾𝗋!” 𝖳𝗋𝖺𝗉𝗉𝖾𝗋 𝖼𝗅𝖺𝗉𝗌 𝖺 𝗁𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁𝗅𝗒 𝗈𝗇 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽𝖾𝗋, 𝗀𝗂𝗏𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗁𝗂𝗆 𝖺 𝖿𝗂𝗋𝗆 𝗌𝗁𝖺𝗄𝖾.

“𝖠𝗇𝖽 𝗐𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗂𝖿 𝖨 𝖺𝗆,” 𝖧𝖺𝗐𝗄𝖾𝗒𝖾 𝖽𝖾𝖿𝖾𝗇𝖽𝗌, 𝗀𝖾𝗌𝗍𝗎𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗈 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗎𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗌𝗈𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗂𝗇𝖿𝖺𝗇𝗍.” 𝖧𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗆𝖾𝗍 𝗁𝖾𝗋? 𝖲𝗁𝖾’𝗌 𝖺 𝖻𝗋𝗂𝗅𝗅𝗂𝖺𝗇𝗍 𝗌𝗎𝗋𝗀𝖾𝗈𝗇 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝖺 𝗌𝖾𝗇𝗌𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝗁𝗎𝗆𝗈𝗋. 𝖠𝗇𝗒 𝗆𝖺𝗇 𝗐𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝖻𝖾 𝗅𝗎𝖼𝗄𝗒 𝗍𝗈 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝗁𝖾𝗋.”

“𝖡𝗎𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎, 𝗌𝗉𝖾𝖼𝗂𝖿𝗂𝖼𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒,” 𝖳𝗋𝖺𝗉𝗉𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝖺𝖼𝗍𝗌 𝗈𝗇.” 𝖶𝗁𝗒 𝖽𝗈𝗇’𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗍𝖺𝗅𝗄 𝗍𝗈 𝗁𝖾𝗋, 𝖧𝖺𝗐𝗄?”

𝖯𝗂𝖾𝗋𝖼𝖾 𝗋𝗈𝗅𝗅𝗌 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖾𝗒𝖾𝗌 𝖻𝖾𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝗋𝖾𝗍𝗎𝗋𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗈 𝗐𝖺𝗍𝖼𝗁 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗉𝖺𝖼𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖺𝗂𝗌𝗅𝖾 𝗂𝗇 𝖻𝖾𝗍𝗐𝖾𝖾𝗇 𝗍𝗐𝗈 𝗍𝖺𝖻𝗅𝖾𝗌. 𝖸𝗈𝗎’𝗋𝖾 𝗌𝗆𝗂𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀—𝖺 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗅 𝗌𝗆𝗂𝗅𝖾, 𝗆𝖺𝗒 𝗁𝖾 𝖺𝖽𝖽—𝖺𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗀𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗅𝗒 𝗌𝖼𝗋𝖺𝗍𝖼𝗁 𝖺𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖻𝖺𝖻𝗒'𝗌 𝖼𝗁𝗂𝗇 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗉𝗈𝗂𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝗀𝖾𝗋. 𝖲𝗁𝖾 𝖻𝖺𝖻𝖻𝗅𝖾𝗌, 𝗌𝖾𝖾𝗆𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗅𝗒 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾 𝖻𝖾𝗂𝗇𝗀.

“𝖲𝗁𝖾’𝗅𝗅 𝗐𝖺𝗇𝗍 𝗇𝗈𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗈 𝖽𝗈 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗆𝖾 𝖺𝖿𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗋.” 𝖧𝖾 𝗌𝗁𝗋𝗎𝗀𝗌. 𝖳𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾’𝗌 𝖺 𝗍𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝖿𝖾𝖾𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖾𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝗐𝖺𝗒 𝖺𝗍 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖼𝗁𝖾𝗌𝗍 𝖺𝗌 𝖺𝖼𝗂𝖽 𝖻𝗎𝖻𝖻𝗅𝖾𝗌 𝗂𝗇 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗆𝖺𝖼𝗁. 𝖠𝗌 𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗍𝗎𝖿𝖿𝗌 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗁𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗌 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗉𝗈𝖼𝗄𝖾𝗍 𝗈𝖿 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗋𝗈𝖻𝖾, 𝖧𝖺𝗐𝗄𝖾𝗒𝖾 𝗐𝗈𝗇𝖽𝖾𝗋𝗌 𝗂𝖿 𝗂𝗍’𝗌 𝗀𝗎𝗂𝗅𝗍 𝗈𝗋 𝖺𝗇 𝗎𝗅𝖼𝖾𝗋. 𝖧𝖾’𝖽 𝗉𝗋𝖺𝗒 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗂𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝖻𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗅𝖺𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝗂𝖿 𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗌𝗇’𝗍 𝖺𝗀𝗇𝗈𝗌𝗍𝗂𝖼.

“𝖠𝗋𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗄𝗂𝖽𝖽𝗂𝗇𝗀,” 𝖳𝗋𝖺𝗉𝗉𝖾𝗋 𝗀𝖺𝗉𝖾𝗌.” 𝖲𝗁𝖾’𝗅𝗅 𝗐𝖺𝗇𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝗌𝖾𝗍𝗍𝗅𝖾 𝖽𝗈𝗐𝗇 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗌𝗈𝗆𝖾 𝗉𝗈𝗈𝗋 𝗀𝗎𝗒 𝗐𝗁𝗈 𝗐𝗈𝗇’𝗍 𝗄𝗇𝗈𝗐 𝗐𝗁𝖺𝗍’𝗌 𝗁𝗂𝗍 𝗁𝗂𝗆 𝗎𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗅 𝗁𝖾’𝗌 𝖿𝗂𝗏𝖾 𝗒𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗌 𝖽𝖾𝖾𝗉 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗍𝗐𝗈 𝗄𝗂𝖽𝗌. 𝖠𝗇𝖽 𝖺𝗌 𝗆𝗎𝖼𝗁 𝖺𝗌 𝗂𝗍 𝗌𝖼𝖺𝗋𝖾𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗍𝗈 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗋 𝗂𝗍, 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗌𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗂𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎.”

“𝖳𝗁𝖺𝗇𝗄𝗌, 𝖳𝗋𝖺𝗉. 𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝗄𝗇𝗈𝗐 𝗁𝗈𝗐 𝗍𝗈 𝗆𝖺𝗄𝖾 𝖺 𝗀𝗎𝗒 𝖿𝖾𝖾𝗅 𝗌𝗉𝖾𝖼𝗂𝖺𝗅.” 𝖧𝖺𝗐𝗄𝖾𝗒𝖾 𝗁𝗎𝖿𝖿𝗌 𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝖺 𝖻𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗍𝗁 𝖺𝗌 𝖭𝗎𝗋𝗌𝖾 𝖦𝗂𝗇𝗀𝖾𝗋 𝗋𝖾𝗍𝗎𝗋𝗇𝗌 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝖺 𝖻𝗋𝗈𝗐𝗇 𝖻𝗈𝗍𝗍𝗅𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝖺𝗇𝗍𝗂𝖻𝗂𝗈𝗍𝗂𝖼𝗌.

“𝖠𝗇𝗒𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾, 𝗉𝖺𝗅.” 𝖳𝗋𝖺𝗉𝗉𝖾𝗋 𝖼𝗅𝖺𝗌𝗉𝗌 𝖺 𝗁𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗈𝗇 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽𝖾𝗋.” 𝖩𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝗍𝖺𝗅𝗄 𝗍𝗈 𝗁𝖾𝗋. 𝖨𝗍’𝗅𝗅 𝖾𝖺𝗍 𝖺𝗐𝖺𝗒 𝖺𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗎𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗅 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗇𝖾𝗑𝗍 𝗐𝖺𝗋 𝗂𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖽𝗈𝗇’𝗍.”

𝖨𝗍’𝗌 𝖺 𝗐𝖾𝖾𝗄 𝗎𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗅 𝖧𝖺𝗐𝗄𝖾𝗒𝖾 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝖺𝗅𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝖺𝗀𝖺𝗂𝗇. 𝖠𝗇𝖽 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒 𝖽𝖺𝗒, 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁𝗍𝗌 𝗈𝖿 𝗌𝖾𝗍𝗍𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖽𝗈𝗐𝗇 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗋𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺 𝖿𝖺𝗆𝗂𝗅𝗒 𝖻𝖺𝖼𝗄 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖲𝗍𝖺𝗍𝖾𝗌 𝖼𝗁𝖾𝗐 𝖺𝗐𝖺𝗒 𝖺𝗍 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗆𝗂𝗇𝖽.

𝖨𝗍 𝗎𝗇𝖿𝗈𝗅𝖽𝗌 𝖽𝗎𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗌𝗎𝗋𝗀𝖾𝗋𝗒 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝖾𝖾𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖾𝗅𝖻𝗈𝗐-𝖽𝖾𝖾𝗉 𝗂𝗇 𝖺 𝗉𝖺𝗍𝗂𝖾𝗇𝗍’𝗌 𝖼𝗁𝖾𝗌𝗍. 𝖨𝗍 𝗋𝖾𝗉𝗅𝖺𝗒𝗌 𝗂𝗇 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗆𝗂𝗇𝖽 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝖾𝖾𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖼𝗎𝗋𝗅𝖾𝖽 𝗎𝗉 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗋𝗇𝖾𝗋 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗆𝖾𝗌𝗌 𝗍𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝖺 𝖼𝗈𝖿𝖿𝖾𝖾 𝗂𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗁𝖺𝗇𝖽, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁𝗍𝗌 𝗇𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗅𝗒 𝖼𝗈𝗋𝗋𝗎𝗉𝗍 𝗁𝗂𝗆 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝖾𝖾𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗉𝗅𝖺𝗒𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗌𝗈𝖼𝖼𝖾𝗋 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝖥𝖺𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝖬𝗎𝗅𝖼𝖺𝗁𝗒 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖺 𝗀𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗉 𝗈𝖿 𝗅𝗈𝖼𝖺𝗅 𝗄𝗂𝖽𝗌 𝗈𝗎𝗍𝗌𝗂𝖽𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖲𝗐𝖺𝗆𝗉.

𝖲𝗈 𝗁𝖾 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝗆𝗎𝗌𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗌 𝗎𝗉 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗋𝖺𝗀𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝗅𝗂𝗌𝗍𝖾𝗇 𝗍𝗈 𝖳𝗋𝖺𝗉𝗉𝖾𝗋’𝗌 𝖺𝖽𝗏𝗂𝖼𝖾—𝗐𝗁𝗂𝖼𝗁 𝖧𝖺𝗐𝗄𝖾𝗒𝖾 𝖽𝖾𝖼𝗂𝖽𝖾𝗌 𝗐𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝖻𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖿𝗂𝗋𝗌𝗍 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗅𝖺𝗌𝗍 𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾. 𝖸𝗈𝗎’𝗋𝖾 𝖺𝗅𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗇𝗀𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗋𝗈𝗈𝗆 𝗈𝗎𝗍𝗌𝗂𝖽𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗈𝗉𝖾𝗋𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗋𝗈𝗈𝗆. 𝖧𝖾’𝗌 𝖼𝗈𝗅𝗅𝖺𝗉𝗌𝖾𝖽 𝗈𝗇𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖻𝖾𝗇𝖼𝗁, 𝖻𝗅𝗈𝗈𝖽𝗂𝖾𝖽 𝗌𝖼𝗋𝗎𝖻𝗌 𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗎𝗌𝗎𝖺𝗅 𝗀𝖺𝗋𝖻, 𝗐𝗁𝗂𝗅𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎’𝗋𝖾 𝖻𝗎𝗌𝗒 𝗉𝖾𝖾𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋𝗌 𝗈𝖿𝖿.

“𝖯𝖾𝗇𝗇𝗒 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁𝗍𝗌,” 𝖯𝗂𝖾𝗋𝖼𝖾 𝗊𝗎𝖾𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗁𝗎𝗆, 𝗍𝗎𝗋𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗈 𝖿𝖺𝖼𝖾 𝗁𝗂𝗆 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝖽𝖺𝗋𝗄 𝖼𝗂𝗋𝖼𝗅𝖾𝗌 𝗎𝗇𝖽𝖾𝗋 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖾𝗒𝖾𝗌, 𝗁𝖾 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗅𝗂𝗓𝖾𝗌 𝖺𝖿𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝖿𝗂𝖿𝗍𝖾𝖾𝗇 𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗋𝗌 𝗈𝖿 𝗌𝗎𝗋𝗀𝖾𝗋𝗒 𝗆𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝖻𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝗋𝗈𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾. 𝖧𝖾𝗅𝗅, 𝗇𝗈 𝗀𝗈𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖻𝖺𝖼𝗄 𝗇𝗈𝗐.” 𝖧𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝖺𝖻𝗈𝗎𝗍—𝗐𝖾𝗅𝗅, 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗄𝗇𝗈𝗐?”

“𝖡𝖾𝗇, 𝗄𝗇𝗈𝗐𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗒𝗈𝗎, 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝖻𝖾 𝖺𝗌 𝗅𝗂𝗍𝗍𝗅𝖾 𝖺𝗌 𝖺𝗇 𝗂𝗇𝗏𝗂𝗍𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇 𝗍𝗈 𝗀𝖾𝗍 𝗆𝖾 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝗈 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖼𝗈𝗍 𝗈𝗋 𝖺𝗌 𝖻𝗂𝗀 𝖺𝗌 𝗋𝖾-𝖾𝗇𝗅𝗂𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀,” 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗌𝖺𝗒, 𝗉𝗎𝗅𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗌𝗎𝗋𝗀𝗂𝖼𝖺𝗅 𝖼𝖺𝗉 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝖽.

𝖨𝗍 𝗋𝖾𝗏𝖾𝖺𝗅𝗌 𝖺 𝖼𝗋𝗈𝗐𝗇 𝗈𝖿 𝖿𝗋𝖺𝗓𝗓𝗅𝖾𝖽 𝗁𝖺𝗂𝗋, 𝖾𝖺𝖼𝗁 𝗍𝖾𝗇𝖽𝗋𝗂𝗅 𝗉𝗂𝗇𝗇𝖾𝖽 𝖻𝗒 𝖺 𝗁𝖺𝗂𝗋 𝗌𝗍𝗂𝖼𝗄 𝗁𝖾 𝖻𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖽𝗎𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗅𝖺𝗌𝗍 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝖿𝖾𝗋𝖾𝗇𝖼𝖾 𝗂𝗇 𝖳𝗈𝗄𝗒𝗈. 𝖧𝖺𝗐𝗄𝖾𝗒𝖾 𝗁𝖺𝗌 𝗇𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗎𝗇𝖽𝖾𝗋𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗈𝖽 𝗁𝗈𝗐 𝗂𝗍 𝗁𝗈𝗅𝖽𝗌 𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗁𝖺𝗂𝗋 𝗍𝗈𝗀𝖾𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗌𝗈 𝗇𝖾𝖺𝗍𝗅𝗒, 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗆𝖺𝗄𝖾 𝗂𝗍 𝗅𝗈𝗈𝗄 𝖾𝖺𝗌𝗒 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗍𝗐𝗂𝗌𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗁𝖺𝗂𝗋 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝗈 𝖺𝗇 𝗎𝗉𝖽𝗈.

“𝖱𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍, 𝗌𝗈𝗋𝗋𝗒.” 𝖧𝖾 𝖼𝗁𝗎𝖼𝗄𝗅𝖾𝗌 𝗅𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍𝗅𝗒, 𝗌𝗁𝖺𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝖽.” 𝖧𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗌𝗂𝖽𝖾𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝗐𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎’𝗋𝖾 𝗀𝗈𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗈 𝖽𝗈 𝖺𝖿𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗋 𝗂𝗌 𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋?”

“𝖠 𝖿𝖾𝗐 𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾𝗌.” 𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝗌𝗁𝗋𝗎𝗀, 𝗍𝖺𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺 𝗌𝖾𝖺𝗍 𝗇𝖾𝗑𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝗁𝗂𝗆. 𝖸𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗌 𝗉𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗌 𝖺𝗀𝖺𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗍 𝖾𝖺𝖼𝗁 𝗈𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋, 𝗒𝖾𝗍, 𝖧𝖺𝗐𝗄𝖾𝗒𝖾 𝖽𝗈𝖾𝗌𝗇’𝗍 𝖿𝖾𝖾𝗅 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎’𝗋𝖾 𝖼𝗅𝗈𝗌𝖾 𝖾𝗇𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁. 𝖧𝖾 𝗋𝖺𝗋𝖾𝗅𝗒 𝖽𝗈𝖾𝗌.” 𝖨 𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝗐𝖾’𝖽 𝗏𝗂𝗌𝗂𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖽𝖺𝖽 𝗂𝗇 𝖬𝖺𝗂𝗇𝖾 𝖿𝗂𝗋𝗌𝗍. 𝖳𝗁𝖾𝗇, 𝗀𝗈 𝗏𝗂𝗌𝗂𝗍 𝗆𝗒 𝖿𝗈𝗅𝗄𝗌 𝗂𝗇 𝖭𝗈𝗋𝗍𝗁 𝖢𝖺𝗋𝗈𝗅𝗂𝗇𝖺. 𝖬𝗒 𝗆𝗈𝗆’𝗌 𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒 𝖾𝗑𝖼𝗂𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗆𝖾𝖾𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎.”

“𝖶𝖾’𝖽,” 𝖧𝖺𝗐𝗄𝖾𝗒𝖾 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗆𝗆𝖾𝗋𝗌, 𝗂𝗇 𝖺 𝗐𝖺𝗒 𝗈𝖿 𝖽𝗂𝗌𝖻𝖾𝗅𝗂𝖾𝖿 𝗋𝖺𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗇 𝗉𝗋𝗈𝗍𝖾𝗌𝗍. 𝖧𝗂𝗌 𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗆𝖺𝖼𝗁 𝖼𝖺𝗅𝗆𝗌, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝖺𝗇 𝗌𝗐𝖾𝖺𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖾𝗅𝖾𝗉𝗁𝖺𝗇𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗁𝖺𝗌 𝖻𝖾𝖾𝗇 𝗌𝗂𝗍𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗈𝗇 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖼𝗁𝖾𝗌𝗍 𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗐𝖾𝖾𝗄 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗌 𝗎𝗉.

“𝖣𝗂𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗄 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗀𝖾𝗍𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗋𝗂𝖽 𝗈𝖿 𝗆𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝖾𝖺𝗌𝗂𝗅𝗒, 𝖡𝖾𝗇,” 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗃𝖾𝗌𝗍, 𝖻𝗎𝗆𝗉𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽𝖾𝗋?

“𝖭𝗈. 𝖭𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋. 𝖦𝗈𝖽, 𝖨 𝗁𝗈𝗉𝖾𝖽 𝗇𝗈𝗍.” 𝖧𝖾 𝗀𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗌, 𝗁𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗌 𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁𝗅𝗒 𝗉𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝗀𝖺𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖼𝗁𝖾𝖾𝗄𝗌 𝖺𝗌 𝗁𝖾 𝗍𝗎𝗀𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗍𝗈𝗐𝖺𝗋𝖽𝗌 𝗁𝗂𝗆. 𝖸𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗅𝗂𝗉𝗌 𝖼𝗋𝖺𝗌𝗁 𝖺𝗀𝖺𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗍 𝖾𝖺𝖼𝗁 𝗈𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖺𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗇𝗈𝗌𝖾𝗌 𝖻𝗋𝗎𝗌𝗁, 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗒 𝗌𝗅𝖺𝗇𝗍 𝗍𝗈𝗀𝖾𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝗉𝗎𝗓𝗓𝗅𝖾 𝗉𝗂𝖾𝖼𝖾𝗌.

𝖨𝗍’𝗌 𝖽𝗂𝖿𝖿𝖾𝗋𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗇 𝗈𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗄𝗂𝗌𝗌𝖾𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎’𝗏𝖾 𝗌𝗁𝖺𝗋𝖾𝖽. 𝖨𝗍’𝗌 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝖿𝗎𝗅𝗅 𝗈𝖿 𝗁𝖺𝗌𝗍𝖾 𝗈𝗋 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗋𝗒 𝗒𝗈𝗎’𝗋𝖾 𝗀𝗈𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗈 𝗀𝖾𝗍 𝖼𝖺𝗎𝗀𝗁𝗍. 𝖥𝗈𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖿𝗂𝗋𝗌𝗍 𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾 𝗂𝗇 𝖺 𝗐𝗁𝗂𝗅𝖾, 𝖧𝖺𝗐𝗄𝖾𝗒𝖾 𝗍𝖺𝗄𝖾𝗌 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝗌𝖺𝗏𝗈𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗆𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝖺𝗌 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖾𝗆𝗈𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌 𝗉𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗅𝗈𝗐, 𝗒𝖾𝗍 𝖾𝖺𝗀𝖾𝗋, 𝗄𝗂𝗌𝗌.

𝖠𝗂𝗋 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗎𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗋𝗂𝖽𝖾𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗇𝖾𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗄𝗂𝗌𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝖧𝖺𝗐𝗄𝖾𝗒𝖾 𝗋𝖾𝗅𝗎𝖼𝗍𝖺𝗇𝗍𝗅𝗒 𝗉𝗎𝗅𝗅𝗌 𝖺𝗐𝖺𝗒, 𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖾𝗁𝖾𝖺𝖽𝗌 𝗉𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗌𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈𝗀𝖾𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋, 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗍𝗎𝗋𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗊𝗎𝖾𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇 𝖻𝖺𝖼𝗄 𝗈𝗇 𝗁𝗂𝗆.” 𝖶𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝖽𝗈 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗌𝖾𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋𝗌𝖾𝗅𝖿 𝖺𝖿𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗋, 𝖡𝖾𝗇?”

𝖧𝗂𝗌 𝗌𝗆𝗂𝗅𝖾 𝗀𝗋𝗈𝗐𝗌, 𝗂𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗂𝗌 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗇 𝗉𝗈𝗌𝗌𝗂𝖻𝗅𝖾, 𝖻𝖾𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝗁𝖾 𝗆𝗎𝗋𝗆𝗎𝗋𝗌,” 𝖶𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖺𝗋𝖾.” 𝖧𝖺𝗐𝗄𝖾𝗒𝖾 𝗉𝗎𝗌𝗁𝖾𝗌 𝖿𝗈𝗋𝗐𝖺𝗋𝖽, 𝗇𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗅𝗒 𝗄𝗇𝗈𝖼𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗈𝖿𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖻𝖾𝗇𝖼𝗁 𝖺𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗅𝗂𝗉𝗌 𝖼𝗈𝗅𝗅𝗂𝖽𝖾 𝗂𝗇 𝖺 𝖿𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋.

𝖬𝗂𝗇𝗎𝗍𝖾𝗌—𝗆𝖺𝗒𝖻𝖾 𝖺𝗇 𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗋—𝗉𝖺𝗌𝗌 𝖻𝖾𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝖧𝖺𝗐𝗄𝖾𝗒𝖾 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝖺𝗅𝗅���� 𝗉𝗎𝗅𝗅𝗌 𝖺𝗐𝖺𝗒 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗀𝗈𝗈𝖽. 𝖯𝖺𝗇𝗍𝗌 𝖿𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗈𝖿𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗅𝗂𝗉𝗌, 𝖻𝖾𝖺𝖽𝗌 𝗈𝖿 𝗌𝗐𝖾𝖺𝗍 𝖿𝗈𝗋𝗆𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗈𝗇 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖻𝗋𝗈𝗐.” 𝖨 𝗇𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝗈𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖺𝗌 𝗌𝗎𝖼𝗁 𝖺 𝗋𝗈𝗆𝖺𝗇𝗍𝗂𝖼, 𝖡𝖾𝗇.”

𝖧𝖾 𝗌𝗁𝗋𝗎𝗀𝗌 𝖺 𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽𝖾𝗋 𝖺𝗌 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖺𝗋𝗆 𝗌𝗇𝖺𝗄𝖾𝗌 𝖺𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗇𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗐𝖺𝗂𝗌𝗍. 𝖶𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝖺 𝗀𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗅𝖾 𝗍𝗎𝗀, 𝗁𝖾 𝗉𝗎𝗅𝗅𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖺𝗀𝖺𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗍 𝗁𝗂𝗆.” 𝖶𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝖼𝖺𝗇 𝖨 𝗌𝖺𝗒? 𝖳𝗁𝗈𝗌𝖾 𝖼𝗁𝖾𝖾𝗌𝗒 𝗆𝗈𝗏𝗂𝖾 𝗇𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍𝗌 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗆𝖾𝗌𝗌 𝗍𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝗋𝗎𝖻𝖻𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗈𝖿𝖿 𝗈𝗇 𝗆𝖾.”

·.·´¯`·.·★·.·´¯`·.·

[dr-juliaogden]

Texting bf's dad hotch by accident when you're drunk and trying to get your bf to pick you up...

this idea >>>>

also aaron has another son besides jack in this

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

They were just a few margaritas. You didn’t expect a casual girl’s night to turn into a pounding headache and a room that was spinning around you.

It was fun and your friends wanted to stay longer, but your upset stomach would not let you enjoy the rest of your night. You were more than ready to get out of there.

“I’m gonna ask my boyfriend to come pick me up,” you told your friends, who seemed a bit too drunk to process your words.

As carefully as you could, you made your way outside the bar, and took your phone out of your purse. Going through your contacts you stopped when you spotted your boyfriend’s name.

‘Babe can you come and pick me up? I can’t drive’

You hit send, and right after, you shared your location with him.

‘I’ll be there in 20.’

Oh.

That was it? No whining? No scolding you for drinking too much? No complaining about you being an inconvenience?

It was a full moon; maybe he was going through some kind of transformation.

You closed your eyes for a bit and rested your head against the wall. The minutes would simply not pass fast enough. I’m never drinking again, you thought.

Your phone buzzed in your hands and a new message flashed across the screen.

‘I’m here.’

You were ready to lift your head and search for his car, but your eyes were glued on the contact name that appeared above the text you had just received.

It didn’t say Mark. It said Mark’s dad.

No way, you thought. No way, I asked Aaron Hotchner to come pick me up from a bar because I’m wasted.

But that was exactly what you had done.

The word embarrassment didn’t even begin to cover the range of emotions you were feeling at that moment; especially as you watched him get out of his car and walking towards you.

Why did he have to look so good? As if drunk texting him wasn’t embarrassing enough, he had to look like a god in a suit that cost more than your monthly rent.

‘Mr. Hotchner,” you said, when he approached you. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to text you. I wanted to text Mark, but I got confused and God…I’m so, so dizzy.”

 His expression stayed serious, but he placed a gentle hand on your shoulder. “Let’s get in the car.”

Aaron opened the door for you and held your hand so you could get inside. You expected him to close the door but instead he leaned over you and fastened your seatbelt for you.

Your heart started jumping around at the smell of his cologne and the feeling of his face so close to yours. You weren’t proud of it, but Aaron Hotchner was your forbidden desire. And the star of more dirty dreams than you’d ever dare to admit.

His thick fingers brushed against your stomach as he made sure that your seatbelt was tight enough to keep you safe.

You shut your eyes and took a deep breath trying to calm your body down.

“Are you alright?” he asked, softly.

His deep voice was the cherry on top that had you melting on your seat.

“Yeah,” you answered weakly. “Just dizzy.”

He closed the door and made his way to the other side, and soon he was on the driver’s seat.

There was a small water bottle in the cup holder and he picked it up. “Here,” he offered, “Have some water. It’ll help.”

“Thank you,” you said taking it from his hands, and shivered at the contact when your fingers brushed.

The bottle was half empty which meant he already had some of it before you. He had wrapped his lips around it; around where your lips were now.

You devoured any water that was left and realized how bad you needed to get hydrated. “I needed that.”

“I can tell,” he laughed. “Come on,” he added, and started the car. “Let’s take you home.”

“Were you asleep?”

“Hm?””

“When I texted you. Did I wake you up?” you asked with a worried tone.

“I rarely sleep, honey. You don’t have to worry about me.”

You pressed your thighs together at the sound of the pet name and the sight of his hands around the wheel.

“Thank you for coming. I really appreciate it.”

“Of course,” he said. “You needed me.”

“I did,” you said, breathless. “Mark would…”

You paused.

“Go on.”

You hesitated. “He would have probably told me to call a cab.”

“He’d let his girl get in the car with a stranger in the middle of the night? When she’s drunk?”

“Sometimes he gets upset with things like that. And, listen, I get it. I can be trouble sometimes.”

“Oh you can be,” Aaron said. “But not for the reasons you think.”

“What do you mean?”

He ignored your question, but it didn’t take too long before he spoke again.

“I’m gonna have a word with him. He’s not treating you well.”

“No, please don’t.”

The only thing that talk would achieve would be Mark getting upset with you.

There was a long pause, and you took advantage of the silence to stare at him. His side profile, his hands, his arms. He was perfect.

‘I wish Mark was more like you,” you said before thinking any better.

“Sweetheart, you shouldn’t say things like that.”

“I could say way worse.”

He chuckled. “Unless you want both of us to get in trouble, don’t.”

“But-”

Aaron reached out to hold your hand, making you go quiet. “You’re drunk. But what I do want you to know is that I’m always here, okay?”

“Okay.”

He squeezed your hand and didn’t let go the entire ride home.

[dr-juliaogden]

i am still obsessed with this-

Doctor's Orders

a james wilson x gn!reader one-shot

SUMMARY: Wilson sprains his ankle, and you get to take care of him.

WARNINGS: minor injury (a sprained ankle)

WORD COUNT: 1217

The sound of faint laughter and televisions echoing through the hallways of your building made you feel at ease. It had been a long day, and to say you were relieved to finally be home was an understatement. You reciprocated James’ warm smile as you walked through the door he was holding open to your condo complex. 

"Oh, do we need to check the mailbox?" you asked him, in a half-whisper. He shook his head, and you ascended the well-worn staircase leading to your cozy condo, with James trailing just a step behind.

“Anyway, like I was saying, I think it gets too much hate. It was a fun movie,” you exclaimed, continuing up the stairs. James responded with a disapproving shake of his head.

“Agree to disagree,” he retorted playfully.

You sighed. “I’m never going to be able to convince you otherwise, am I?”

“Not a chance,” he replied, allowing his gaze to momentarily linger from the stairs to admire your presence. “And I’m never going to forgive them for what they did to–”

Suddenly, a resonant thud echoed behind you, followed by a pained groan. You gasped, and your hand instinctively flew to cover your mouth.

“Oh– James, are you okay?”

He groaned in pain. Your heart pounded as you leaned your bag against the post at the top of the staircase before you rushed to help him.

“Here, let me help you up,” you offered, placing his arm around your shoulders and assisting him back onto his feet. He winced as his injured foot touched the ground, and you gripped the handrail tightly as you bore his weight.

"These damn stairs,” James muttered, “I really should learn to be more careful.”

"It happens to the best of us,” you reassured him, sympathetically. “Let’s get you inside and sit you down, then we can take a look at it.”

You left him waiting at the top of the stairs as you descended again to retrieve his briefcase. 

“Thanks,” he said softly, smiling fondly at you as you picked up your own bag and helped him limp to the door to his condo. Once inside, you eased him onto the sofa.

Sitting across from him on a cushioned footstool, you looked at him expectantly as he carefully examined his injury for a few minutes. You were comforted by the familiar impression of intense focus on his face; you’d seen it in his eyes doing everything from the New York Times crossword puzzle to diagnosing his cancer patients. You could practically see the gears turning in his brain when the radiator's subtle hum, unnoticed until then, ceased, leaving behind a quiet void in your condo. After a few more minutes, the weight of the silence finally became unbearably uncomfortable, and you asked:

“So… what is it?”

“Well,” he sighed, looking up at you, “I don’t think it’s broken. It feels like it’s just a sprain. Some ice, compression, rest… and I should be fully healed in a few weeks,” he said, before lifting himself onto his feet. You got up from your seat and stopped him before he could make another move.

“Okay, but the acronym is RICE. Which, if I remember correctly, means the the first rule of healing a sprained ankle… is to rest,” you pointed out, matter-of-factly. 

“Yeah, but the next one is ice. I’m going to get ice before I res–”

“Hey,” you said, looking at him with feigned sternness. His eternally pleading eyes made it so hard to get genuinely angry with him. You placed your hand on his chest and lightly coaxed him back down onto the sofa. He pursed his lips and obliged, never breaking eye contact. 

“I know you’re a fancy doctor and everything but just… let me take care of you, okay? Relax, I’ll get you what you need,” you said, softening your tone and tenderly stroking his face with your thumb. You sealed your sentiment with a gentle kiss on his cheek before heading to the kitchen to get ice. James’ gaze softened and he smiled as he watched you make your way to the freezer before he picked up the nearest magazine. He swiveled on the sofa to lay back and let his injured foot rest on the armrest.

When you returned with some ice wrapped in a towel and a compression wrap, you found James nodded off with his magazine open on his stomach. You lightened your footsteps as you approached him to avoid disturbing him, a gentle smile creeping onto your face. Kneeling on the floor by his head, you cupped his face with your hand and gingerly stroked his cheek, then lightly ran your fingers through his soft curls, stirring him awake. 

“Hmm?” 

“Sorry, I couldn’t help myself.” Your fingers tingled as you felt him melt under your touch. “I got some ice and a bandage. For compression, right?”

“Yeah,” he said, rubbing his eyes. You got up off the ground, pulled the footstool over to the sofa’s armrest, and applied the ice to his ankle. He lifted his head just barely enough to see what you were doing. There was a subtle glint of worry in his eye, and you reassured him it was going to be okay.

“You can go back to sleep, you know,” you whispered. James let his head fall backwards and stared blankly at the ceiling, letting his thoughts wander, first shuffling through his list of dying patients, then to plotting how he was going to get back at House for that stupid prank he had pulled on him earlier, then to how he forgot to ask Cuddy about the budget for new equipment for the oncology department, and finally back to you. Every aspect of his job as an oncologist dictated that he was to be a caretaker, and to have someone take care of him was overwhelming, in a good way. As a generally independent person, he wasn’t used to being shown this level of compassion. He felt his heart grow warm thinking about how lucky he was to have you looking after him, how good you were to him, and how much he loved you.

“All done,” you whispered, satisfied with your work. Wilson once again looked up at his now-bandaged foot, then at you. His movement startled you briefly, as you assumed he had gone back to sleep like you had suggested. “Woah, I thought you were asleep? I was just about to go get a sticker for you, you were very well behaved,” you grinned.

He rolled his eyes playfully and unsuccessfuly tried to suppress a smile. “That’s a solid wrapping job, perfect even.” he approved. Your eyes sparkled with pride, and he instantly felt a familiar warm, fuzzy sensation coursing through him. Just as he was about to open his mouth to speak, you planted a tender kiss on his lips that left him feeling entirely flushed, and as you were about to walk away, he grabbed your hand and pulled you back in for another kiss, this time more passionate. 

“Mmm… just what the doctor ordered.” His warm breath lingered against your skin, and his expression turned more serious as he looked into your eyes. “I love you, you know,” he confessed, earnestly.

“I know,” you giggled. “I love you too.”

@iamthatonefangirl @dr-juliaogden

[dr-juliaogden]

GAHHH SO CUTEEEE ALEX I LOVED IT

hey bestie! for your little blurb thing how about mountains with marc spector? i’m excited to see what you come up with <3

Searching

about this: marc spector x gn!reader. prompt: mountains. cw: meetcute, awkward flirting, coffee mention. wc: 918. not beta’d!!

send me a prompt from this list + a character!

There could be a lot of things wrong with the man in front of you right now. He certainly is much stronger than you, possibly faster. Usually, running into a person on these trails— especially a man— would make you bolt back the way you came. You come here for solitude, are always hopeful for safety. But, there’s something about him that’s different.

Endearing even.

He’s built well, with broad shoulders and hands. He’s holding a map, his thick eyebrows furrowed together as he attempts to read it. His full mouth is moving, like he’s whispering to himself, talking through where he is. He looks so incredibly serious— not to mention handsome— but even so, something about him seems calm. Gentle.

As you wonder how to approach him you shift slightly, and he looks up at the sound of your sneakers scraping together. All of that gentleness is overflowing in his deep brown eyes, and it sends a round of butterflies through your stomach.

The two of you simply stare at each other, like two startled animals. When you think about it…that’s exactly what you are. You smile at him sheepishly but still, your mouth moves to say nothing. You think he tries to smile back, though it seems he’s a little out of practice. It makes you curious, and a little sad.

“Hi,” He says finally, awkwardly. His voice is much softer than you anticipated even with your kind conceptions about him. It’s sweet.

You clear your throat, twisting your hands together, “Hi. First timer?”

He grimaces, “That obvious?”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone with a map on these trails.”

He gestures around with one of his hands, the softest edge of playfulness in his voice, “Everyone just knows where to go, huh?”

You grin, shrugging, “Something like that. You aren’t from around here I imagine?”

“No. Chicago.”

“You’re a long way from home,” You murmur curiously.

He shrugs, his eyes going past you as if he’s thinking about something. Then he says, “Home is where you make it.”

Humming softly in agreement, you take another step toward him. “Want some help?”

Marc hesitates but then your smile widens, head tilting in encouragement. He sniffs, nodding, “If it wouldn’t be too much of an inconvenience.”

“Not at all. Where are you trying to go?” You ask, coming to stand beside him to take a look at his map.

“If I’m reading this right, there’s supposed to be a coffee cart about 10-15 minutes from here.”

“Yeah, here,” You agree softly, pointing to the landmark on the map. “It gets a little convoluted around this part with all the different shoot-offs. I was headed that way, I can just walk with you.”

Marc looks up from the map to glance over at you, his cheeks tinging a soft pink at your offer. It’s been a long time since he’s been interested in anyone, and though he doesn’t expect this to go anywhere his heart flutters in his chest. So far removed from any action that just a stranger simply asking to help has his palms sweaty— Steven and Jake will never let him hear the end of this.

“Sure. Yeah. I’d appreciate that,” He nods, quickly folding up the map.

You and Marc start the correct way, exchanging names as you put one foot in front of the other. You point out how confusing it can be to pick the right path as you all pass a bunch of off-shooting trails. It makes Marc feel a little better about being turned around, though your kindness has been helpful in batting away his shame.

The walk flies by, conversation coming much more easily than either of you anticipated. Marc is reluctant to let you go, wishing that the coffee cart would materialize a mile away. There are few patrons in line, waiting to order so you both linger— you’re not quite ready to end your time with him either.

“Uh, thanks for helping out there, usually I’m not so turned around,” He says after a few beats of silence.

“Hey, no problem. If you keep heading this way you should make it back to the beginning of the park.”

“Right, yeah. Thanks,” He holds out his hand to you.

“It was really nice to meet you, Marc,” You say earnestly, shaking his hand firmly— it’s warm, a little calloused, fits perfectly in yours.

“Yeah, you too,” He says, and he means it. For the first time in a long time, Marc is content to interact with someone other than his alters. It feels like a breath of fresh air.

You give him a genuine smile despite your disappointment in him not asking you to join him, the tiniest wave before you start back the way you two came from. He watches you, watches as the first person to make him really feel something in ages starts to walk away from him.

This whole hiking though the mountains, getting in touch with nature thing was part of his soul searching after everything. And though hadn’t been completely sure what he was searching for when he stepped onto this trail but that much is clear now.

“Could I buy you a cup of coffee? You drink coffee don’t you?” He calls after you before you can get too far.

You let out a breath you don’t realize you were holding in then, turn back toward him, the smile on your face returning. Nodding softly you call back, “Yeah, Marc, I drink coffee.”