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đđĄđđ©đđđ« đđĄđ«đđ đđââđđšđ„đźđŠđđąđâ
!!!: đŠđČ đ°đšđ«đ€ đąđŹ đ§đšđ đđš đđ đ«đđźđŹđđ đ°đąđđĄđšđźđ đđ«đđđąđ/đ©đđ«đŠđąđŹđŹđąđšđ§!
đ«đđȘđźđđŹđ đ«đźđ„đđŹáŻđđ đđĄđđ đ°đđŹ đđĄđđ§, đđĄđąđŹ đąđŹ đ§đšđ° đŠđđŹđđđ«đ„đąđŹđáŻđđ
đ°đđ«đ§đąđ§đ đŹ: đŠđđ§đđąđšđ§đŹ đšđ đąđ§đđąđđđ„đąđđČ, đđđźđ„đđđ«đČ, đźđŹđ đšđ đČ/đ§, đđ«đąđ§đ€đąđ§đ , đŹđŠđźđ, đ© đąđ§ đŻ, đźđ§đ©đ«đšđđđđđđ đŹđđ±, đđ§đ đšđ«đđ„ (đ!đ«đđđąđđŻđąđ§đ ). đŹđźđŠđŠđđ«đČ: đČđšđź đđąđ§đ đČđšđźđ«đŹđđ„đ đąđ§ đ đŹđđđđ€ đ„đšđđ đšđ đđ«đšđźđđ„đ đąđ§ đČđšđźđ« đĄđšđŠđđđšđ°đ§ đđ§đ đđ«đ đđšđŠđ©đđ„đ„đđ đđš đŠđšđŻđ đšđźđ đšđ đČđšđźđ« đĄđšđŠđ đđš đđąđ§đ đ đ„đąđđ đđąđŹđđđ§đ đđ«đšđŠ đđĄđ đąđ§đđ„đźđđ§đđ đšđ đČđšđźđ« đšđ„đ đđ«đąđđ§đđŹ. đ«đąđđ€ đ đ«đąđŠđđŹ đąđŹ đŹđđ«đźđ đ đ„đąđ§đ đ°đąđđĄ đĄđąđŹ đ°đąđđ đđĄđđđđąđ§đ đšđ§ đĄđąđŠ đ°đąđđĄ đĄđąđŹ đđđŹđ đđ«đąđđ§đ đđźđ đŹđšđšđ§ đđąđ§đđŹ đĄđąđŠđŹđđ„đ đąđ§ đ đđĄđđđđąđ§đ đŹđđđ§đđđ„ đšđ đĄđąđŹ đšđ°đ§. đ°đĄđđ§ đđĄđ đđ©đšđđđ„đČđ©đŹđ đđ§đ đĄđąđŹ đđšđŠđ đŹđđ©đđ«đđđ đđĄđ đđ°đš đšđ đČđšđź đđšđ« đ đđšđźđ©đ„đ đšđ đŠđšđ§đđĄđŹ, đČđšđź đđšđđĄ đđđ§'đ đŹđđđŠ đđš đ©đąđđ€ đźđ© đ°đĄđđ«đ đČđšđź đ„đđđ đšđđ đšđ§đđ đČđšđź đ«đđźđ§đąđđ. đ°đšđ«đ đđšđźđ§đ: đ.đđđ€
đđĄđđ©đđđ« đđ°đš | đđĄđđ©đđđ« đđšđźđ«
đđĄđ đ§đđ±đ đŠđšđ«đ§đąđ§đ , đČđšđź đŹđđđ© đšđźđ đšđ đČđšđźđ« đđ«đđąđ„đđ« đ°đąđđĄ đ đČđđ°đ§, đ©đźđ„đ„đąđ§đ đČđšđźđ« đđ„đđ§đ§đđ„ đđąđ đĄđđđ« đđ«đšđźđ§đ đČđšđźđ« đđšđđČ đđš đŹđĄđąđđ„đ đČđšđźđ«đŹđđ„đ đđ«đšđŠ đđĄđ đđđ«đ„đČ đŠđšđ«đ§đąđ§đ đđĄđąđ„đ„. đđĄđ đđąđ« đŹđŠđđ„đ„đŹ đđđŠđ© đđ«đšđŠ đđĄđ đ«đđąđ§ đđĄđ đ§đąđ đĄđ đđđđšđ«đ, đđźđ đąđâđŹ đȘđźđąđđ, đđ„đŠđšđŹđ đ©đđđđđđźđ„. đđšđź đ©đđźđŹđ đđš đ„đšđđ€ đđĄđ đđšđšđ« đđđĄđąđ§đ đČđšđź, đđĄđ đđđŠđąđ„đąđđ« đđ„đąđđ€ đšđ đđĄđ đ„đđđđĄ đđđĄđšđąđ§đ đąđ§ đđĄđ đŹđđąđ„đ„đ§đđŹđŹ.
đđŹ đČđšđź đđźđ«đ§ đđš đĄđđđ đđšđ°đ§ đđĄđ đŹđŠđđ„đ„ đŹđđđ©đŹ đšđ đČđšđźđ« đđ«đđąđ„đđ«, đČđšđźđ« đ đđłđ đđ«đąđđđŹ đđšđ°đđ«đ đđĄđ đĄđšđźđŹđ đ§đđ±đ đđšđšđ«. đđšđź đđ«đđđłđ đđšđ« đ đŹđđđšđ§đ, đ§đšđđąđđąđ§đ đŹđšđŠđđđĄđąđ§đ đšđđ, đđ°đš đ«đźđŹđđČ đđąđ€đđŹ, đ„đđđ§đąđ§đ đĄđđ©đĄđđłđđ«đđ„đČ đđ đđąđ§đŹđ đđĄđ đŹđąđđ đšđ đđĄđ đĄđšđźđŹđ. đđĄđđČ đ°đđ«đđ§âđ đđĄđđ«đ đđđđšđ«đ. đđĄđ đđąđ€đđŹ đ„đšđšđ€ đšđ„đ, đđ„đŠđšđŹđ đđđđ§đđšđ§đđ, đ°đąđđĄ đđĄđąđ©đ©đđ đ©đđąđ§đ đđ§đ đđąđ«đđŹ đđĄđđ đŹđđđŠ đ„đąđ€đ đđĄđđČ'đŻđ đŹđđđ§ đđđđđđ« đđđČđŹ. đđĄđ đŹđąđ đĄđ đšđ đđĄđđŠ, đŹđąđđđąđ§đ đđĄđđ«đ đąđ§ đđĄđ đŠđšđ«đ§đąđ§đ đŠđąđŹđ, đ đąđŻđđŹ đČđšđź đ đŹđđ«đđ§đ đ đđđđ„đąđ§đ .
đđšđź đŹđȘđźđąđ§đ, đđ«đČđąđ§đ đđš đ«đđŠđđŠđđđ« đąđ đČđšđź'đŻđ đđŻđđ« đŹđđđ§ đđĄđđŠ đđđđšđ«đ, đđźđ đ§đšđđĄđąđ§đ đđšđŠđđŹ đđš đŠđąđ§đ. đđšđź đđšđ§'đ đ€đ§đšđ° đŠđźđđĄ đđđšđźđ đđĄđ đ§đđąđ đĄđđšđ«đŹ, đđ±đđđ©đ đđĄđđ đđĄđđČ đ€đđđ© đđš đđĄđđŠđŹđđ„đŻđđŹ. đđ'đŹ đšđ§đ đšđ đđĄđ đȘđźđąđ«đ€đŹ đšđ đ„đąđŻđąđ§đ đąđ§ đ đ©đ„đđđ đ„đąđ€đ đđĄđąđŹ.
đđĄđ đŠđšđ«đ§đąđ§đ đđąđ« đąđŹ đŹđđąđ„đ„ đđ«đąđŹđ© đđŹ đČđšđź đŠđđ€đ đČđšđźđ« đ°đđČ đđš đ°đšđ«đ€, đđĄđ đŹđšđźđ§đ đšđ đČđšđźđ« đđšđšđđŹđđđ©đŹ đđĄđ đšđ§đ„đČ đ§đšđąđŹđ đđ«đđđ€đąđ§đ đđĄđ đđđ«đ„đČ đȘđźđąđđ. đđĄđ đ°đđ„đ€ đđš đđĄđ đ„đšđđđ„ đ đ«đšđđđ«đČ đŹđđšđ«đ đąđŹđ§âđ đđđ« đđ«đšđŠ đČđšđźđ« đŠđšđđąđ„đ đĄđšđŠđ, đđźđ đąđâđŹ đ„đšđ§đ đđ§đšđźđ đĄ đđš đ„đđ đČđšđź đ đđđĄđđ« đČđšđźđ« đđĄđšđźđ đĄđđŹ. đđČ đđĄđ đđąđŠđ đČđšđź đ«đđđđĄ đđĄđ đŹđđšđ«đ, đđĄđ đŹđŠđđ„đ„ đđšđ°đ§ đąđŹ đđđ đąđ§đ§đąđ§đ đđš đŹđđąđ«. đđđšđ©đ„đ đđ«đ đšđźđ đ«đźđ§đ§đąđ§đ đđ«đ«đđ§đđŹ, đđĄđ đŹđđ«đđđđŹ đđąđ„đ„đąđ§đ đ°đąđđĄ đđđ«đŹ, đđ§đ đđĄđ đđąđ« đąđŹ đ°đđ«đŠđđ« đđĄđđ§ đąđ đ°đđŹ đŁđźđŹđ đđ§ đĄđšđźđ« đđ đš. đđšđź đŹđ„đąđ© đđĄđ«đšđźđ đĄ đđĄđ đđđđ€ đđ§đđ«đđ§đđ đšđ đđĄđ đŹđđšđ«đ, đ§đšđđđąđ§đ đđ đđĄđ đđŠđ©đ„đšđČđđđŹ đđ„đ«đđđđČ đđ„đšđđ€đđ đąđ§.
đđšđź đđąđ đšđ§ đČđšđźđ« đ°đĄđąđđ đđ©đ«đšđ§ đđ§đ đđđŁđźđŹđ đČđšđźđ« đ§đđŠđđđđ đđŹ đČđšđź đĄđđđ đđš đČđšđźđ« đđŹđŹđąđ đ§đđ đŹđđđđąđšđ§ đđ đđĄđ đ«đđ đąđŹđđđ«. đđĄđ đĄđšđźđ«đŹ đŹđđđŠ đđš đđ„đźđ« đđšđ đđđĄđđ«, đđĄđ đŹđđšđ«đ đȘđźđąđđ đđ±đđđ©đ đđšđ« đđĄđ đ«đĄđČđđĄđŠđąđ đĄđźđŠ đšđ đđĄđ đŹđđđ§đ§đđ«đŹ đđ§đ đđĄđ đŹđĄđźđđđ„đ đšđ đđźđŹđđšđŠđđ«đŹ đđšđŠđąđ§đ đđ§đ đ đšđąđ§đ . đđšđź đđšđđźđŹ đšđ§ đđđđĄ đđđđ© đšđ đđĄđ đ«đđ đąđŹđđđ«, đ„đšđŹđ đąđ§ đđĄđ đ«đšđźđđąđ§đ, đ°đĄđđ§ đČđšđź đŹđđ đđąđđ€âđŹ đđđŠđąđ„đąđđ« đđąđ đźđ«đ đŹđđđ© đąđ§đđš đČđšđźđ« đ„đđ§đ.
đđĄđąđŹ đđąđŠđ, đĄđâđŹ đđđ«đ«đČđąđ§đ đ đŹđąđ±-đ©đđđ€ đšđ đđđđ«, đđĄđ đđđ§đŹ đđ„đąđ§đ€đąđ§đ đŹđšđđđ„đČ đđŹ đĄđ đ©đ„đđđđŹ đąđ đšđ§ đđĄđ đđšđ§đŻđđČđšđ« đđđ„đ. đđąđŹ đ°đĄđąđđ đ-đŹđĄđąđ«đ đąđŹ đđźđđ€đđ đ§đđđđ„đČ đąđ§đđš đĄđąđŹ đ°đšđ«đ€ đ©đđ§đđŹ, đđĄđ đđđđ«đąđ đĄđźđ đ đąđ§đ đĄđąđŹ đđ«đđŠđ đŁđźđŹđ đđ§đšđźđ đĄ đđš đ«đđŠđąđ§đ đČđšđź đšđ đđĄđ đđđŹđźđđ„ đČđđ đđšđ§đđąđđđ§đ đ°đđČ đĄđ đđđ«đ«đąđđŹ đĄđąđŠđŹđđ„đ. đđšđź đđđ§ đđđ„đ„ đĄđ đŠđźđŹđ đĄđđŻđ đŁđźđŹđ đ đšđđđđ§ đšđđ đ°đšđ«đ€, đđĄđ đŹđ„đąđ đĄđđ„đČ đźđ§đ€đđŠđ©đ đ„đšđšđ€ đđš đĄđąđŹ đĄđđąđ« đđ§đ đđĄđ đđđąđ§đ đđ«đđđđŹ đšđ đ°đđđ«đąđ§đđŹđŹ đąđ§ đĄđąđŹ đ©đšđŹđđźđ«đ đŹđźđ đ đđŹđ đ đ„đšđ§đ đđđČ. đđźđ đđđŹđ©đąđđ đđĄđđ, đĄđ đŹđđđ§đđŹ đđđ„đ„, đ„đšđšđ€đąđ§đ đđŹ đ«đđ„đđ±đđ đđŹ đđŻđđ«.
đđšđź đ€đđđ© đČđšđźđ« đ đđłđ đđšđđźđŹđđ đšđ§ đđĄđ đ«đđ đąđŹđđđ«, đđ«đČđąđ§đ đđš đ€đđđ© đđĄđąđ§đ đŹ đ©đ«đšđđđŹđŹđąđšđ§đđ„, đđźđ đ đŹđŠđđ„đ„ đđ„đźđđđđ« đšđ đ§đđ«đŻđšđźđŹđ§đđŹđŹ đ«đźđ§đŹ đđĄđ«đšđźđ đĄ đČđšđź. đđĄđ đ„đđŹđ đđąđŠđ đĄđâđ đđđđ§ đĄđđ«đ, đđĄđ đđąđ« đĄđđ đđđ„đ đđĄđąđđ€ đ°đąđđĄ đŹđšđŠđđđĄđąđ§đ đ§đđąđđĄđđ« đšđ đČđšđź đĄđđ đđđđ«đđŹđŹđđ.
âđđđČ đđ đđąđ§, đ/đ,â đĄđ đ đ«đđđđŹ đČđšđź đđđŹđźđđ„đ„đČ, đĄđąđŹ đŻđšđąđđ đ°đđ«đŠ đđźđ đ„đšđ°, đ đŹđ„đąđ đĄđ đŹđŠđąđ„đ đđźđ đ đąđ§đ đđ đđĄđ đđšđ«đ§đđ« đšđ đĄđąđŹ đ„đąđ©đŹ.
âđđđČ, đđąđđ€,â đČđšđź đ«đđ©đ„đČ, đ©đźđŹđĄđąđ§đ đđĄđ đđ«đąđđ đźđ§đđđŹđ đđšđ°đ§ đđŹ đČđšđź đđđ đąđ§ đŹđđđ§đ§đąđ§đ đđĄđ đŹđąđ±-đ©đđđ€. đđĄđ đŹđšđźđ§đ đšđ đđĄđ đ«đđ đąđŹđđđ« đđđđ©đąđ§đ đąđŹ đšđđđ„đČ đ„đšđźđ đąđ§ đđĄđ đȘđźđąđđ đšđ đđĄđ đŹđđšđ«đ. đđšđź đđšđđźđŹ đšđ§ ïżœïżœđĄđ đđđŹđ€ đđ đĄđđ§đ, đ€đđđ©đąđ§đ đČđšđźđ« đĄđđ§đđŹ đŹđđđđđČ, đđŻđđ§ đđĄđšđźđ đĄ đČđšđźđ« đŠđąđ§đ đąđŹ đ«đđđąđ§đ .
đđâđŹ đŹđđđ§đđąđ§đ đđ„đšđŹđđ« đđĄđđ§ đŠđšđŹđ đ©đđšđ©đ„đ, đŁđźđŹđ đšđ§ đđĄđ đšđđĄđđ« đŹđąđđ đšđ đđĄđ đ«đđ đąđŹđđđ«, đđ§đ đąđâđŹ đąđŠđ©đšđŹđŹđąđđ„đ đ§đšđ đđš đ§đšđđąđđ đđĄđ đŹđźđđđ„đ đ°đđČ đĄđąđŹ đ đđłđ đđ„đąđđ€đđ«đŹ đđš đŠđđđ đČđšđźđ«đŹ đđŹ đČđšđź đŹđđđ§ đđĄđ đąđđđŠ. đđšđź đđđ§âđ đĄđđ„đ© đđźđ đ°đšđ§đđđ« đąđ đĄđâđŹ đđ°đđ«đ đšđ đđĄđ đđđ§đŹđąđšđ§ đđđđ°đđđ§ đČđšđź, đđĄđšđźđ đĄ đĄđ đŹđđđŠđŹ đ©đđ«đđđđđ„đČ đđ đđđŹđ, đĄđąđŹ đŹđđđ§đđ đ«đđ„đđ±đđ đđŹ đąđ đđĄđđ«đâđŹ đ§đšđđĄđąđ§đ đźđ§đźđŹđźđđ„.
âđđšđ§đ đđđČ?â đČđšđź đđŹđ€, đđ«đČđąđ§đ đđš đŠđđ€đ đđšđ§đŻđđ«đŹđđđąđšđ§, đđĄđšđźđ đĄ đČđšđźâđ«đ đ§đšđ đŹđźđ«đ đ°đĄđČ. đđ đđđđ„đŹ đ„đąđ€đ đŹđšđŠđđđĄđąđ§đ đđš đđąđ„đ„ đđĄđ đŹđąđ„đđ§đđ, đ đ°đđČ đđš đ đ«đšđźđ§đ đČđšđźđ«đŹđđ„đ đąđ§ đđĄđ đ©đ«đđŹđđ§đ.
âđđđđĄ,â đĄđ đ«đđŹđ©đšđ§đđŹ, đĄđąđŹ đŹđŠđąđ„đ đŹđšđđđđ§đąđ§đ .
đđšđź đ§đšđ, đ đąđŻđąđ§đ đĄđąđŠ đ đŹđŠđđ„đ„ đŹđŠđąđ„đ đđŹ đČđšđź đđąđ§đąđŹđĄ đŹđđđ§đ§đąđ§đ đđĄđ đđđđ« đđ§đ đđđ đ đąđ§đ đąđ. đđĄđđ«đ'đŹ đđ§ đšđđ đȘđźđąđđ đđđđ°đđđ§ đČđšđź đ§đšđ°, đđźđ đąđ'đŹ đ§đšđ đźđ§đđšđŠđđšđ«đđđđ„đ. đđšđź đĄđđ§đ đĄđąđŠ đđĄđ đđđ đđ§đ đ«đđđđąđ©đ, đđ§đ đđšđ« đ đŹđđđšđ§đ, đČđšđźđ« đđąđ§đ đđ«đŹ đđ«đźđŹđĄ đđ đđąđ§đŹđ đĄđąđŹ đđŹ đĄđ đđđ€đđŹ đąđ. đđąđŹ đđšđźđđĄ đ„đąđ§đ đđ«đŹ đŁđźđŹđ đŹđ„đąđ đĄđđ„đČ đ„đšđ§đ đđ« đđĄđđ§ đ§đđđđŹđŹđđ«đČ, đđ§đ đČđšđź đ°đšđ§đđđ« đąđ đĄđ đ§đšđđąđđđ.
"đđđđźđđ„đ„đČ," đđąđđ€ đđšđ§đđąđ§đźđđŹ, đđđđđ« đ đđ«đąđđ đ©đđźđŹđ, "đ đ°đđŹ đđĄđąđ§đ€đąđ§đ ⊠đąđ đČđšđź'đ«đ đ§đšđ đđšđš đđźđŹđČ đ„đđđđ«, đČđšđź đŹđĄđšđźđ„đ đđšđŠđ đđČ đŠđČ đ©đ„đđđ đđšđ« đ đđąđ." đđąđŹ đđšđ§đ đąđŹ đđđŹđźđđ„, đđźđ đđĄđđ«đ'đŹ đ đđ„đąđđ€đđ« đąđ§ đĄđąđŹ đđČđđŹ.
đđšđź đŹđŠđąđ„đ đđ§đ đđąđđ đđĄđ đąđ§đŹđąđđ đšđ đČđšđźđ« đ„đąđ©, đ§đđ«đ«đšđ°đąđ§đ đČđšđźđ« đđČđđŹ đđ đĄđąđŠ đ©đ„đđČđđźđ„đ„đČ. "đđĄđđ đđđšđźđ, đČđ đ€đ§đšđ°?" đČđšđź đŹđđČ, đĄđšđ„đđąđ§đ đźđ© đČđšđźđ« đ„đđđ đĄđđ§đ đđ§đ đ°đąđ đ đ„đąđ§đ đČđšđźđ« đ«đąđ§đ đđąđ§đ đđ« đąđ§ đđ«đšđ§đ đšđ đĄđąđŠ.
đđąđŹ đ©đšđŹđđźđ«đ đŹđđąđđđđ§đŹ đđšđ« đ đŠđšđŠđđ§đ đđđđšđ«đ đĄđ đȘđźđąđđ€đ„đČ đ«đđ©đ„đąđđŹ, "đđĄđ'đŹ đšđźđ đšđ đđšđ°đ§."
đđšđź đđąđ„đ đČđšđźđ« đĄđđđ, đŹđđźđđČđąđ§đ đĄđąđŠ đđšđ« đ đŠđšđŠđđ§đ đđđđšđ«đ đđ«đđđ€đąđ§đ đđĄđ đŹđąđ„đđ§đđ. "đđ„đ«đąđ đĄđ," đČđšđź đŹđđČ đŹđšđđđ„đČ, đ đŹđŠđđ„đ„ đŹđŠđąđ„đ đ©đ„đđČđąđ§đ đšđ§ đČđšđźđ« đ„đąđ©đŹ. "đ đđđ§ đđ đšđŻđđ« đđ«đšđźđ§đ đŹđąđ±."
đđšđź đŹđŠđąđ„đ đđđąđ§đđ„đČ đđ§đ đ§đšđ đđšđ°đđ«đ đđĄđ đ«đđđïżœïżœïżœïżœđ©đ đđ„đ«đđđđČ đąđ§ đĄđąđŹ đĄđđ§đ. "đđđ«đ, đ°đ«đąđđ đČđšđźđ« đđđđ«đđŹđŹ đšđ§ đđĄđ đđđđ€," đČđšđź đŹđđČ, đ©đźđ„đ„đąđ§đ đ đ©đđ§ đđ«đšđŠ đČđšđźđ« đđ©đ«đšđ§ đđ§đ đĄđđ§đđąđ§đ đąđ đđš đĄđąđŠ.
đđąđđ€ đđđ€đđŹ đđĄđ đ©đđ§, đĄđąđŹ đđąđ§đ đđ«đŹ đđ«đźđŹđĄđąđ§đ đČđšđźđ«đŹ đđ«đąđđđ„đČ, đđ§đ đđ„đąđ©đŹ đđĄđ đ«đđđđąđ©đ đšđŻđđ«. đđ đ„đđđ§đŹ đđ đđąđ§đŹđ đđĄđ đđšđźđ§đđđ« đđŹ đĄđ đ°đ«đąđđđŹ, đđĄđ đŠđšđđąđšđ§ đđđŹđźđđ„ đđźđ đđđ„đąđđđ«đđđ.
đđ§đđ đĄđ'đŹ đđąđ§đąđŹđĄđđ, đĄđ đĄđđ§đđŹ đđĄđ đ«đđđđąđ©đ đđđđ€ đđš đČđšđź, đĄđąđŹ đđČđđŹ đŠđđđđąđ§đ đČđšđźđ«đŹ đđŹ đĄđ đđšđđŹ. "đđđ đČđšđź đđ đŹđąđ±," đĄđ đŹđđČđŹ đŹđąđŠđ©đ„đČ, đĄđąđŹ đŻđšđąđđ đ„đšđ° đđźđ đŹđđđđđČ.
đđšđź đđđ€đ đđĄđ đ«đđđđąđ©đ, đ đ„đđ§đđąđ§đ đđ đđĄđ đđđđ«đđŹđŹ đŹđđ«đąđđđ„đđ đ§đđđđ„đČ đšđ§ đđĄđ đđđđ€ đđđđšđ«đ đŹđ„đąđ©đ©đąđ§đ đąđ đąđ§đđš đČđšđźđ« đ©đšđđ€đđ. "đđąđ± đąđ đąđŹ," đČđšđź đ«đđ©đ„đČ đ°đąđđĄ đ đŹđŠđđ„đ„ đŹđŠđąđ„đ, đ°đđđđĄđąđ§đ đđŹ đĄđ đđźđ«đ§đŹ đđ§đ đ°đđ„đ€đŹ đšđźđ đšđ đđĄđ đŹđđšđ«đ, đđĄđ đđĄđąđŠđ đšđ đđĄđ đđšđšđ« đŠđđ«đ€đąđ§đ đĄđąđŹ đđđ©đđ«đđźđ«đ.
đđđđđ« đČđšđźđ« đŹđĄđąđđ đđ§đđŹ, đČđšđź đ đ«đđ đČđšđźđ« đđĄđąđ§đ đŹ đđ§đ đŹđđđ«đ đ°đđ„đ€đąđ§đ đđš đđąđđ€âđŹ đĄđšđźđŹđ, đđĄđ đđđđ«đđŹđŹ đĄđ đ°đ«đšđđ đšđ§ đđĄđ đđđđ€ đšđ đđĄđ đ«đđđđąđ©đ đŠđđŠđšđ«đąđłđđ đđČ đ§đšđ°. đđĄđ đ„đđđ đđŻđđ§đąđ§đ đđąđ« đąđŹ đđšđšđ„, đđĄđ đđđąđ§đ đŹđŠđđ„đ„ đšđ đ«đđąđ§ đŹđđąđ„đ„ đ„đąđ§đ đđ«đąđ§đ đđ«đšđŠ đđĄđ đ§đąđ đĄđ đđđđšđ«đ. đđšđź đđđđ„ đ đđ°đąđ§đ đ đšđ đ§đđ«đŻđđŹ đ°đąđđĄ đđŻđđ«đČ đŹđđđ©, đđźđ đČđšđź đ©đźđŹđĄ đąđ đđšđ°đ§, đ€đđđ©đąđ§đ đČđšđźđ« đ©đđđ đŹđđđđđČ đđŹ đđĄđ đĄđšđźđŹđđŹ đ©đđŹđŹ đđČ đąđ§ đ đđ„đźđ«.
đđĄđđ§ đČđšđź đ«đđđđĄ đĄđąđŹ đ©đ„đđđ, đČđšđź đĄđđŹđąđđđđ đđšđ« đ đŠđšđŠđđ§đ, đŹđđđ§đđąđ§đ đđ đđĄđ đđđ đ đšđ đđĄđ đđ«đąđŻđđ°đđČ. đđąđŹ đĄđšđźđŹđ đąđŹ đŠđšđđđŹđ, đđĄđ đ©đšđ«đđĄ đ„đąđ đĄđ đđđŹđđąđ§đ đ đ°đđ«đŠ đ đ„đšđ° đđ đđąđ§đŹđ đđĄđ đđđđąđ§đ đđđČđ„đąđ đĄđ. đđšđź đđđ€đ đ đđđđ© đđ«đđđđĄ, đŹđđđđđČđąđ§đ đČđšđźđ«đŹđđ„đ đđđđšđ«đ đ°đđ„đ€đąđ§đ đźđ© đđš đ€đ§đšđđ€ đšđ§ đđĄđ đđšđšđ«.
đđąđđ€ đđ§đŹđ°đđ«đŹ đđ„đŠđšđŹđ đąđŠđŠđđđąđđđđ„đČ, đđŹ đąđ đĄđ đĄđđ đđđđ§ đ°đđąđđąđ§đ . đđâđŹ đšđźđ đšđ đĄđąđŹ đ°đšđ«đ€ đđ„đšđđĄđđŹ đ§đšđ°, đ°đđđ«đąđ§đ đ đ©đ„đđąđ§ đ đ«đđČ đ-đŹđĄđąđ«đ đđ§đ đŁđđđ§đŹ, đ„đšđšđ€đąđ§đ đŠđšđ«đ đ«đđ„đđ±đđ đđĄđđ§ đČđšđźâđŻđ đđŻđđ« đŹđđđ§ đĄđąđŠ. "đđđČ," đĄđ đ đ«đđđđŹ đČđšđź đ°đąđđĄ đ đŹđŠđđ„đ„ đŹđŠđąđ„đ, đŹđđđ©đ©đąđ§đ đđŹđąđđ đđš đ„đđ đČđšđź đąđ§.
"đđđČ," đČđšđź đ«đđ©đ„đČ đŹđšđđđ„đČ, đŹđđđ©đ©đąđ§đ đđĄđ«đšđźđ đĄ đđĄđ đđšđšđ«. đđĄđ đĄđšđźđŹđ đđđđ„đŹ đđšđłđČ, đ„đąđŻđđ-đąđ§, đ°đąđđĄ đđđąđ§đ đŹđđđ§đ đšđ đđđ§đąđ„đ„đ. đđ«đšđđđđ„đČ đđ«đšđŠ đ đđđ§đđ„đ.
đđŹ đČđšđź đŹđđđ© đąđ§đđš đđĄđ đ„đąđŻđąđ§đ đ«đšđšđŠ, đČđšđź đ§đšđđąđđ đđĄđ đ°đđ„đ„đŹ đ„đąđ§đđ đ°đąđđĄ đđ«đđŠđđ đđđŠđąđ„đČ đ©đĄđšđđšđŹ. đđšđź đ©đđźđŹđ, đČđšđźđ« đ đđłđ đŹđđđđ„đąđ§đ đšđ§ đšđ§đ đšđ đđąđđ€ đŹđđđ§đđąđ§đ đ°đąđđĄ đ đ°đšđŠđđ§ đđ§đ đ đŹđŠđđ„đ„ đđšđČ. đđĄđ đ©đąđđđźđ«đ đ„đšđšđ€đŹ đšđ„đ, đđĄđ đđđ đđŹ đšđ đđĄđ đđ«đđŠđ đŹđ„đąđ đĄđđ„đČ đ°đšđ«đ§, đđźđ đđĄđđ«đâđŹ đđ§ đźđ§đđđ§đąđđđ„đ đ°đđ«đŠđđĄ đąđ§ đđĄđ đąđŠđđ đ.
"đâđ„đ„ đ đ«đđ đźđŹ đ đđšđźđ©đ„đ đšđ đđđđ«đŹ," đđąđđ€ đŹđđČđŹ đđ«đšđŠ đđđĄđąđ§đ đČđšđź, đĄđđđđąđ§đ đđšđ°đđ«đ đđĄđ đ€đąđđđĄđđ§. đđąđŹ đŻđšđąđđ đ©đźđ„đ„đŹ đČđšđźđ« đđđđđ§đđąđšđ§ đđ°đđČ đđ«đšđŠ đđĄđ đ©đĄđšđđšđŹ, đđźđ đČđšđź đđšđ§âđ đŠđšđŻđ, đČđšđźđ« đđČđđŹ đ„đąđ§đ đđ«đąđ§đ đšđ§ đđĄđ đŹđŠđąđ„đąđ§đ đđđđđŹ đŹđđđ«đąđ§đ đđđđ€ đđ đČđšđź đđ«đšđŠ đđĄđ đđ«đđŠđ.
âđđĄđđ«đâđŹ đČđšđźđ« đ°đąđđ?â đČđšđź đđŹđ€, đ«đđąđŹđąđ§đ đČđšđźđ« đŻđšđąđđ đŁđźđŹđ đđ§đšđźđ đĄ đđšđ« đĄđąđŠ đđš đĄđđđ«.
âđđĄđâđŹ đŹđđđČđąđ§đ đ°đąđđĄ đĄđđ« đŠđšđŠ đđšđ« đđĄđ đ°đđđ€đđ§đ,â đđąđđ€ đ«đđ©đ„đąđđŹ đđđŹđźđđ„đ„đČ đđ«đšđŠ đđĄđ đ€đąđđđĄđđ§. đđąđŹ đŻđšđąđđ đąđŹ đŹđđđđđČ, đđźđ đđĄđ đ°đšđ«đđŹ đŹđđđŠ đđš đĄđđ§đ đąđ§ đđĄđ đđąđ«, đĄđđđŻđČ đ°đąđđĄ đźđ§đŹđ©đšđ€đđ§ đđĄđąđ§đ đŹ.
đđšđź đŹđĄđąđđ đČđšđźđ« đ°đđąđ đĄđ, đ đ„đđ§đđąđ§đ đđđđ€ đđ đđĄđ đ©đĄđšđđš. đđ đđđđ„đŹ đ„đąđ€đ đđĄđ đŹđŠđąđ„đąđ§đ đđđđđŹ đđ«đ đŹđđđ«đąđ§đ đđ đČđšđź, đđŹđ€đąđ§đ đŹđąđ„đđ§đ đȘđźđđŹđđąđšđ§đŹ đČđšđź đđšđ§âđ đ°đđ§đ đđš đđ§đŹđ°đđ«. đđšđź đ„đšđšđ€ đđ°đđČ, đđ«đšđŹđŹđąđ§đ đČđšđźđ« đđ«đŠđŹ đđŹ đČđšđź đđđ€đ đ đŹđ„đšđ° đđ«đđđđĄ, ïżœïżœđ«đČđąđ§đ đđš đŹđĄđđ€đ đđĄđ đđđđ„đąđ§đ .
"đđĄđČ?" đČđšđź đđŹđ€ đđŹ đĄđ đŹđđđ©đŹ đđđđ€ đąđ§đđš đđĄđ đ„đąđŻđąđ§đ đ«đšđšđŠ.
đđąđđ€ đđ§đđđ«đŹ, đđ°đš đđšđđđ„đđŹ đšđ đđđđ« đąđ§ đĄđđ§đ. đđ đĄđđ§đđŹ đšđ§đ đđš đČđšđź, đĄđąđŹ đđąđ§đ đđ«đŹ đđ«đźđŹđĄđąđ§đ đČđšđźđ«đŹ đđ«đąđđđ„đČ, đŁđźđŹđ đ„đąđ€đ đđđđšđ«đ. đđšđź đđđđđ©đ đđĄđ đđšđđđ„đ, đČđšđźđ« đđČđđŹ đŠđđđđąđ§đ đĄđąđŹ đđšđ« đ đŹđ©đ„đąđ đŹđđđšđ§đ đđđđšđ«đ đČđšđź đđđ€đ đ đŹđŠđđ„đ„ đŹđąđ©.
"đđĄđ'đŹ đŹđ„đđđ©đąđ§đ đ°đąđđĄ đŠđČ đđđŹđ đđ«đąđđ§đ," đĄđ đŹđđČđŹ, đĄđąđŹ đŻđšđąđđ đ„đšđ°, đđŹ đąđ đŹđđ«đźđ đ đ„đąđ§đ đđš đđąđ§đ đđĄđ đ«đąđ đĄđ đ°đšđ«đđŹ.
đđšđź đŹđđšđ©, đđĄđ đđšđđđ„đ đĄđšđŻđđ«đąđ§đ đŁđźđŹđ đąđ§đđĄđđŹ đđ«đšđŠ đČđšđźđ« đ„đąđ©đŹ đđŹ đČđšđź đ©đ«đšđđđŹđŹ đ°đĄđđ đĄđâđŹ đŁđźđŹđ đŹđđąđ. "đđšđ°," đČđšđź đđąđ§đđ„đ„đČ đŠđđ§đđ đ, đđđđšđ«đ đđđ€đąđ§đ đđ§đšđđĄđđ« đŹđąđ©.
đđąđđ€ đ°đđđđĄđđŹ đČđšđź đđ„đšđŹđđ„đČ đđšđ« đ đŠđšđŠđđ§đ, đđĄđđ§ đđąđ„đđŹ đĄđąđŹ đĄđđđ đŹđ„đąđ đĄđđ„đČ. âđđ«đ đČđšđź đđ«đČđąđ§đ đđš đ đđ đđđđ€ đđ đĄđđ« đšđ« đŹđšđŠđđđĄđąđ§đ ?â đČđšđź đđŹđ€, đČđšđźđ« đŻđšđąđđ đŹđđđđđČ, đđĄđšđźđ đĄ đ đĄđąđ§đ đšđ đđźđ«đąđšđŹđąđđČ đ„đąđ§đ đđ«đŹ đąđ§ đđĄđ đȘđźđđŹđđąđšđ§. đđđđđźđŹđ đ°đĄđČ đđ„đŹđ đ°đšđźđ„đ đĄđ đąđ§đŻđąđđ đČđšđź đšđŻđđ«.
âđđĄâŠâ đĄđ đĄđđŹđąđđđđđŹ, đđŹ đąđ đźđ§đŹđźđ«đ đšđ đ°đĄđđ đĄđ đ°đđ§đđŹ đđš đđš đšđ« đ°đĄđČ đĄđ đąđ§đŻđąđđđ đČđšđź đšđŻđđ« đąđ§ đđĄđ đđąđ«đŹđ đ©đ„đđđ.
đđšđź đ°đđđđĄ đĄđąđŠ đđđ«đđđźđ„đ„đČ, đ§đšđđąđ§đ đđĄđ đ°đđČ đĄđąđŹ đ đđłđ đđ«đąđđđŹ đđŹ đĄđ đŹđđđ§đđŹ đđĄđđ«đ, đđ„đŠđšđŹđ đđŹ đąđ đĄđ'đŹ đ„đšđšđ€đąđ§đ đđšđ« đđĄđ đ«đąđ đĄđ đ°đšđ«đđŹ đđźđ đđđ§'đ đȘđźđąđđ đđąđ§đ đđĄđđŠ. đđĄđ đđđ§đŹđąđšđ§ đąđ§ đđĄđ đ«đšđšđŠ đđđđ„đŹ đđĄđąđđ€, đđĄđ đđąđ« đđđđ°đđđ§ đČđšđź đđ°đš đđ„đŠđšđŹđ đđĄđđ«đ đđ.
đđąđđ€ đđđ€đđŹ đ đŹđ„đšđ° đđ«đđđđĄ, đĄđąđŹ đđąđ§đ đđ«đŹ đđđ©đ©đąđ§đ đ§đđ«đŻđšđźđŹđ„đČ đšđ§ đđĄđ đ§đđđ€ đšđ đĄđąđŹ đđšđđđ„đ. âđ đđšđ§âđ đ€đ§đšđ°,â đĄđ đđđŠđąđđŹ đȘđźđąđđđ„đČ, đĄđąđŹ đŻđšđąđđ đŹđšđđđđ« đđĄđđ§ đđđđšđ«đ. âđ đ đźđđŹđŹ đ đŁđźđŹđ⊠đ đđąđđ§âđ đ€đ§đšđ° đ°đĄđš đđ„đŹđ đđš đđźđ«đ§ đđš. đđ§đ đđĄđđ§, đĄđđ„đ„, đČđšđź đŁđźđŹđ đŹđđđŠđđ đđąđđđđ«đđ§đ. đđąđ€đ⊠đ đđšđ§âđ đ€đ§đšđ° đ°đĄđđ đ đ°đđŹ đđ±đ©đđđđąđ§đ , đđźđ đąđ đđąđ§'đ đđĄđąđŹ.â
"đ đđšđ§'đ đĄđđŻđ đŠđđ§đČ đŠđšđ«đđ„đŹ, đđźđ đŹđ„đđđ©đąđ§đ đ°đąđđĄ đ đŠđđ«đ«đąđđ đŠđđ§? đđĄđđ'đ đđđđąđ§đąđđđ„đČ đđ đ đ§đđ° đ„đšđ° đđšđ« đŠđ, đČ'đ€đ§đšđ°?" đČđšđź đŹđđČ.
đđąđđ€ đŹđĄđąđđđŹ đŹđ„đąđ đĄđđ„đČ, đĄđąđŹ đđČđđŹ đđ„đąđđ€đđ«đąđ§đ đđš đđĄđ đ đ«đšđźđ§đ đđšđ« đ đŠđšđŠđđ§đ đđđđšđ«đ đŠđđđđąđ§đ đČđšđźđ«đŹ đđ đđąđ§. đđąđŹ đđ«đšđ° đđźđ«đ«đšđ°đŹ, đđźđ đđĄđđ«đ'đŹ đ đŹđŠđđ„đ„, đđ„đŠđšđŹđ đ«đźđđđźđ„ đŹđŠđąđ„đ đđźđ đ đąđ§đ đđ đđĄđ đđšđ«đ§đđ«đŹ đšđ đĄđąđŹ đ„đąđ©đŹ. đđ đŹđđđŹ đĄđąđŹ đđđđ« đđšđ°đ§ đšđ§ đđĄđ đđšđđđđ đđđđ„đ đđ§đ đ„đđđ§đŹ đđđđ€ đđ đđąđ§đŹđ đđĄđ đđšđźđđĄ, đđšđ„đđąđ§đ đĄđąđŹ đđ«đŠđŹ đđđ«đšđŹđŹ đĄđąđŹ đđĄđđŹđ. âđđđđĄ, đ đ đđ đđĄđđ. đ đ§đđŻđđ« đđĄđšđźđ đĄđ đ'đ đđ đĄđđ«đ đđąđđĄđđ«. đđźđ⊠đŹđšđŠđđđąđŠđđŹ đŹđĄđąđ đ đđđŹ đŠđđŹđŹđČ, đČ'đ€đ§đšđ°? đđđšđ©đ„đ đŠđđ€đ đŠđąđŹđđđ€đđŹ, đđ§đ đŹđšđŠđ đšđ 'đđŠ đđ«đ đĄđđ«đđđ« đđš đđđ€đ đđđđ€ đđĄđđ§ đšđđĄđđ«đŹ.â
đđšđź đđąđ„đ đČđšđźđ« đĄđđđ, đ°đđđđĄđąđ§đ đĄđąđŠ, đđ«đČđąđ§đ đđš đŠđđ€ïżœïżœïżœïżœ đŹđđ§đŹđ đšđ đđĄđ đŠđđ§ đąđ§ đđ«đšđ§đ đšđ đČđšđź. đđĄđ đŠđąđ±đđźđ«đ đšđ đđ«đźđŹđđ«đđđąđšđ§ đđ§đ đŻđźđ„đ§đđ«đđđąđ„đąđđČ đąđ§ đĄđąđŹ đđ±đ©đ«đđŹđŹđąđšđ§ đąđŹ đŹđšđŠđđïżœïżœđąđ§đ đČđšđź đĄđđđ§âđ đđ±đ©đđđđđ. đđ đŠđđ€đđŹ đČđšđź đȘđźđđŹđđąđšđ§ đ°đĄđđ đ€đąđ§đ đšđ đŠđđ§ đĄđ đ«đđđ„đ„đČ đąđŹ, đđđČđšđ§đ đđĄđ đđđŹđČđ đšđąđ§đ đđ±đđđ«đąđšđ« đĄđâđŹ đđ„đ°đđČđŹ đ©đźđ đšđ§. đđđČđđ đđĄđđ«đâđŹ đŠđšđ«đ đđš đđĄđąđŹ đŹđąđđźđđđąđšđ§ đđĄđđ§ đŁđźđŹđ đĄđąđŹ đ°đąđđâđŹ đąđ§đđąđđđ„đąđđČ.
âđđš đ°đĄđđ đ§đšđ°?â đČđšđź đđŹđ€, đČđšđźđ« đŻđšđąđđ đŹđšđđ đđźđ đđźđ«đąđšđźđŹ, đđŹ đČđšđź đđđ€đ đđ§đšđđĄđđ« đŹđąđ© đšđ đČđšđźđ« đđđđ«. âđđšđź đŁđźđŹđ đ đšđ§đ§đ⊠đŹđąđ đĄđđ«đ đđ§đ đŹđđđ° đąđ§ đąđ? đđ« đąđŹ đđĄđđ«đ đŹđšđŠđđđĄđąđ§đ đČđšđź đ©đ„đđ§ đđš đđš đđđšđźđ đąđ?â
đđąđđ€ đđĄđźđđ€đ„đđŹ đđ«đČđ„đČ, đđźđ đđĄđđ«đâđŹ đ§đš đĄđźđŠđšđ« đąđ§ đąđ. âđ đđšđ§âđ đ€đ§đšđ°, đ/đ. đ đđšđ§âđ đ€đ§đšđ° đ°đĄđđ đđĄđ đĄđđ„đ„ đâđŠ đŹđźđ©đ©đšđŹđđ đđš đđš. đđđ«đ đšđ đŠđ đ°đđ§đđŹ đđš đ đš đŹđđšđ«đŠđąđ§' đšđŻđđ« đđĄđđ«đ đđ§đ đŠđđ€đ đ đŹđđđ§đ, đđźđ⊠đđĄđđ đđąđ§âđ đ đšđ§đ§đ đĄđđ„đ© đđ§đČđđĄđąđ§đ . đđâđŹ đđ„đ„ đŁđźđŹđ đđđđ§ đ đŠđđŹđŹ đđšđ« đđšđš đ„đšđ§đ .â
đđšđź đŹđđđČ đŹđąđ„đđ§đ đđšđ« đ đđđđ, đźđ§đŹđźđ«đ đĄđšđ° đđš đ«đđŹđ©đšđ§đ. đđąđŹ đŹđąđđźđđđąđšđ§ đđđđ„đŹ đ„đąđ€đ đąđâđŹ đđđđ§ đđźđąđ„đđąđ§đ đźđ© đđšđ« đ đ°đĄđąđ„đ, đđ§đ đČđšđźâđ«đ đ§đšđ đŹđźđ«đ đ°đĄđđ«đ đČđšđźđ« đ©đ„đđđ đąđŹ đąđ§ đđ„đ„ đšđ đđĄđąđŹ. đđźđ đŹđšđŠđđđĄđąđ§đ đđđšđźđ đđĄđ đ°đđČ đĄđ đđđ„đ€đŹ, đ„đąđ€đ đĄđâđŹ đđ đ đđ«đšđŹđŹđ«đšđđđŹ, đŠđđ€đđŹ đČđšđź đđđđ„ đ„đąđ€đ đČđšđź đđšđźđ„đ đđ đ©đđ«đ đšđ đđĄđ đŹđšđ„đźđđąđšđ§ â đšđ« đ©đđ«đ đšđ đđĄđ đ©đ«đšđđ„đđŠ.
"đ đŁđźđŹđ⊠đ đŁđźđŹđ đ°đđ§đđđ đđš đđđ„đ€ đđš đŹđšđŠđđšđ§đ đ°đĄđš đ đđđŹ đąđ," đđąđđ€ đđšđ§đđąđ§đźđđŹ, đĄđąđŹ đŻđšđąđđ đ đ„đąđđđ„đ đŠđšđ«đ đ«đđ° đ§đšđ°. "đ đđšđ§'đ đ€đ§đšđ° đąđ đđĄđđâđŹ đČđšđź, đđźđ⊠đČđšđźâđ«đ đđĄđ đšđ§đ„đČ đšđ§đ đâđŻđ đ đšđ đ«đąđ đĄđ đ§đšđ°."
đđšđź đŹđ°đđ„đ„đšđ° đČđšđźđ« đđ«đąđ§đ€, đ„đđđ§đąđ§đ đđđđ€ đđ đđąđ§đŹđ đđĄđ đđ«đŠ đšđ đđĄđ đđšđźđđĄ. âđđšđšđ€, đđąđđ€,â đČđšđź đđđ đąđ§, đđĄđ đ°đšđ«đđŹ đđšđŠđąđ§đ đšđźđ đŹđ„đšđ°đđ« đđĄđđ§ đČđšđź đđ±đ©đđđđđ, âđâđŠ đ§đšđ đĄđđ«đ đđš đđąđ± đČđšđź đšđ« đČđšđźđ« đŠđđ«đ«đąđđ đ. đđźđ đąđ đČđšđź đ§đđđ đŹđšđŠđđšđ§đ đđš đ„đąđŹđđđ§, đ đđđ§ đđš đđĄđđ. đđźđŹđ⊠đđšđ§âđ đđ±đ©đđđ đŠđ đđš đŁđźđŠđ© đąđ§đđš đđĄđąđŹ đ°đąđđĄ đČđšđź, đšđ€đđČ? đâđŻđ đ đšđ đđ§đšđźđ đĄ đšđ đŠđČ đšđ°đ§ đŹđĄđąđ đđš đđđđ„ đ°đąđđĄ.â
đđ đ§đšđđŹ, đđĄđ đ°đđąđ đĄđ đšđ đĄđąđŹ đŹđąđđźđđđąđšđ§ đĄđđ§đ đąđ§đ đąđ§ đđĄđ đđąđ« đđđđ°đđđ§ đČđšđź đđšđđĄ. âđđđđĄ, đ đźđ§đđđ«đŹđđđ§đ. đđĄđđ§đ€đŹ.â đđĄđ đ°đšđ«đđŹ đđđđ„ đĄđđđŻđČ đđźđ đ đđ§đźđąđ§đ, đđ§đ đČđšđź đđđ§ đŹđđ đđĄđ đđđ§đŹđąđšđ§ đđđŹđąđ§đ đđ«đšđŠ đĄđąđŹ đŹđĄđšđźđ„đđđ«đŹ, đđŻđđ§ đąđ đŁđźđŹđ đ đ„đąđđđ„đ.
đđąđđ€ đ đąđŻđđŹ đ đŹđŠđđ„đ„, đ đ«đđđđđźđ„ đ§đšđ, đĄđąđŹ đ đđłđ đ„đąđ§đ đđ«đąđ§đ đšđ§ đČđšđź đđŹ đđĄđ đŹđąđ„đđ§đđ đđđđ°đđđ§ đČđšđź đđšđđĄ đŹđđ«đđđđĄđđŹ. đđâđŹ đŹđđđ§đđąđ§đ đđĄđđ«đ, đŹđĄđšđźđ„đđđ«đŹ đŹđ„đąđ đĄđđ„đČ đĄđźđ§đđĄđđ, đ„đąđ€đ đđĄđ đ°đđąđ đĄđ đšđ đđŻđđ«đČđđĄđąđ§đ đĄđâđŹ đŹđđąđ đąđŹ đŹđđđ«đđąđ§đ đđš đŹđđđđ„đ đšđ§ đĄđąđŠ. đđšđź đđđ€đ đ đŹđ„đšđ° đŹđąđ© đšđ đČđšđźđ« đđđđ«, đ°đđđđĄđąđ§đ đĄđąđŠ đđšđ« đ đŠđšđŠđđ§đ, đźđ§đŹđźđ«đ đšđ đ°đĄđđ«đ đđĄđ đđšđ§đŻđđ«đŹđđđąđšđ§ đ°đąđ„đ„ đ đš đđ«đšđŠ đĄđđ«đ.
âđ đđąđđ§âđ đŠđđđ§ đđšđ« đđĄđąđ§đ đŹ đđš đ đđ đŹđšâŠ đĄđđđŻđČ, đ/đ,â đĄđ đŹđđČđŹ, đĄđąđŹ đŻđšđąđđ đ đ„đąđđđ„đ đȘđźđąđđđđ« đ§đšđ°. âđ đŁđźđŹđâŠâ đđ đ©đđźđŹđđŹ, đ«đźđ§đ§đąđ§đ đ đĄđđ§đ đđĄđ«đšïżœïżœđ đĄ đĄđąđŹ đĄđđąđ«. âđ đđšđ§âđ đ«đđđ„đ„đČ đđđ„đ€ đđš đđ§đČđšđ§đ đđđšđźđ đđĄđąđŹ đŹđđźđđ. đđąđđ§âđ đ€đ§đšđ° đ°đĄđđ«đ đđ„đŹđ đđš đ đš. đđâđŹ đŁđźđŹđ đđđđ§ đ đŠđđŹđŹ đ°đąđđĄ đĄđđ«, đđ§đ đâđŻđ đđđđ§ đđ«đČđąđ§đ đđš đ€đđđ© đđŻđđ«đČđđĄđąđ§đ đđšđ đđđĄđđ«, đđźđ⊠đČđšđź đ đđ đđš đ đ©đšđąđ§đ đ°đĄđđ«đ đČđšđź đđđ§âđ đđš đąđ đđ§đČđŠđšđ«đ.â đđšđź đ§đšđ đŹđ„đšđ°đ„đČ, đŠđđđđąđ§đ đĄđąđŹ đ đđłđ. âđ đ đđ đąđ,â đČđšđź đŹđđČ, đČđšđźđ« đđšđ§đ đŹđšđđđđ§đąđ§đ . âđđąđđ đđšđđŹđ§âđ đđ„đ°đđČđŹ đ đš đđĄđ đ°đđČ đ°đ đ©đ„đđ§, đđ§đ đŹđšđŠđđđąđŠđđŹ đđĄđąđ§đ đŹ đŁđźđŹđ⊠đđđ„đ„ đđ©đđ«đ. đâđŠ đ§đšđ đ©đđ«đđđđ đđąđđĄđđ«, đđ§đ đ đ€đ§đšđ° đ°đĄđđ đąđâđŹ đ„đąđ€đ đđš đđ«đČ đđ§đ đ€đđđ© đąđ đđšđ đđđĄđđ« đ°đĄđđ§ đđŻđđ«đČđđĄđąđ§đ âđŹ đđđ„đ„đąđ§đ đđ©đđ«đ đđ«đšđźđ§đ đČđšđź.â
đđąđđ€ đŹđĄđąđđđŹ đĄđąđŹ đ°đđąđ đĄđ, đ„đđđ§đąđ§đ đđ đđąđ§đŹđ đđĄđ đđšđźđ§đđđ«, đđČđđŹ đđšđ°đ§đđđŹđ đđšđ« đ đŹđđđšđ§đ đđŹ đąđ đđšđ§đŹđąđđđ«đąđ§đ đĄđąđŹ đ§đđ±đ đ°đšđ«đđŹ đđđ«đđđźđ„đ„đČ. âđ đ đźđđŹđŹ đâđŻđ đđđđ§ đŹđš đđđźđ đĄđ đźđ© đąđ§ đđŻđđ«đČđđĄđąđ§đ đđĄđđ đ đđšđ«đ đšđ đđš đ„đšđšđ€ đđ«đšđźđ§đ,â đĄđ đŹđđČđŹ, đ đ„đđ§đđąđ§đ đđđđ€ đźđ© đđ đČđšđź. âđđšđź đ€đ§đšđ°, đ«đđđ„đ„đČ đŹđđ đ°đĄđšâđŹ đđ«đšđźđ§đ đŠđ. đđ§đ đ§đšđ°âŠ đ đđšđ§âđ đ€đ§đšđ°. đâđŠ đŁđźđŹđ đ§đšđ đŹđźđ«đ đ°đĄđđ đâđŠ đđšđąđ§đ đđ§đČđŠđšđ«đ.â
đđšđź đŹđđđČ đŹđąđ„đđ§đ đđšđ« đ đŠđšđŠđđ§đ, đ°đđđđĄđąđ§đ đĄđąđŠ. đđâđŹ đđ„đđđ« đđĄđđ đđąđđ€ đąđŹ đŹđđ«đźđ đ đ„đąđ§đ đ°đąđđĄ đŹđšđŠđđđĄđąđ§đ đđąđ đ đđ« đđĄđđ§ đŁđźđŹđ đĄđąđŹ đ°đąđđâđŹ đđđđ«đđČđđ„. đđĄđ đđ«đźđŹđđ«đđđąđšđ§ đąđ§ đĄđąđŹ đŻđšđąđđ, đđĄđ đ«đđ°đ§đđŹđŹ đšđ đĄđąđŹ đ°đšđ«đđŹ, đąđ đđ„đ„ đđđđ„đŹ đ„đąđ€đ đĄđâđŹ đ«đđđđĄđđ đ đđ«đđđ€đąđ§đ đ©đšđąđ§đ.
âđđš đ°đĄđđ đđ«đ đČđšđź đ đšđ§đ§đ đđš đ§đšđ°?â đČđšđź đđŹđ€, đČđšđźđ« đŻđšđąđđ đŹđđđđđČ đđźđ đđźđ«đąđšđźđŹ.
đđąđđ€ đđ±đĄđđ„đđŹ đŹđĄđđ«đ©đ„đČ, đđĄđđ§ đ„đšđšđ€đŹ đđšđ°đ§ đđ đđĄđ đđšđđđ„đ đąđ§ đĄđąđŹ đĄđđ§đ đđŹ đąđ đđĄđ đđ§đŹđ°đđ« đąđŹ đ°đ«đąđđđđ§ đšđ§ đąđ. âđ đđšđ§âđ đ€đ§đšđ°,â đĄđ đđđŠđąđđŹ, đĄđąđŹ đŻđšđąđđ đȘđźđąđđđđ« đ§đšđ°. âđ đ đźđđŹđŹ đ đ§đđđ đđš đđąđ đźđ«đ đšđźđ đ°đĄđđ đ đ«đđđ„đ„đČ đ°đđ§đ, đđ§đ đŹđđšđ© đ„đđđđąđ§đ đđŻđđ«đČđšđ§đ đđ„đŹđ đŠđđ€đ đđđđąđŹđąđšđ§đŹ đđšđ« đŠđ.â
đđšđź đ§đšđ đŹđ„đšđ°đ„đČ, đđšđ§đŹđąđđđ«đąđ§đ đĄđąđŹ đ°đšđ«đđŹ. đđĄđ đŹđąđđźđđđąđšđ§ đđđđ°đđđ§ đČđšđź đđšđđĄ đđđđ„đŹ đđšđŠđ©đ„đđ±, đđźđ đČđšđź đđđ§ đđđ„đ„ đĄđâđŹ đđ«đČđąđ§đ đđš đđšđŠđ đđš đđđ«đŠđŹ đ°đąđđĄ đđŻđđ«đČđđĄđąđ§đ .
âđđđ„đ„,â đČđšđź đŹđđČ đđđđđ« đ đđđđ, đŹđđđđąđ§đ đČđšđźđ« đđđđ« đđšđ°đ§ đšđ§ đđĄđ đđđđ„đ, âđđđČđđ đČđšđź đŁđźđŹđ đ§đđđ đŹđšđŠđ đđąđŠđ đđš đđĄđąđ§đ€ đąđ đđĄđ«đšđźđ đĄ. đđ§đ đ°đĄđđđđŻđđ« đČđšđź đđđđąđđ, đ đĄđšđ©đ đąđâđŹ đ°đĄđđâđŹ đđđŹđ đđšđ« đČđšđź.â
đđąđđ€ đ„đšđšđ€đŹ đđ đČđšđź, đĄđąđŹ đđ±đ©đ«đđŹđŹđąđšđ§ đŹđšđđđđ§đąđ§đ đ°đąđđĄ đ đ«đđđąđđźđđ. âđđĄđđ§đ€đŹ, đ/đ. đ đŠđđđ§ đąđ.â đđ đ đąđŻđđŹ đ đŹđŠđđ„đ„, đđ„đŠđšđŹđ đ«đđ„đźđđđđ§đ đŹđŠđąđ„đ, đđĄđđ§ đ©đđźđŹđđŹ, đĄđąđŹ đđČđđŹ đŠđđđđąđ§đ đČđšđźđ«đŹ đđ đđąđ§. âđ đđąđđ§âđ đđ±đ©đđđ đđĄđąđŹ, đđąđđ§âđ đđ±đ©đđđ đČđšđź đđš đŁđźđŹđ⊠đ„đąđŹđđđ§. đđźđ đąđ đĄđđ„đ©đŹ. đđšđ«đ đđĄđđ§ đ đđĄđšđźđ đĄđ đąđ đ°đšđźđ„đ.â
đđąđđ€ đŹđđđ§đđŹ đđĄđđ«đ đđšđ« đ đđđđ, đđĄđ đȘđźđąđđ đ°đđąđ đĄđ đšđ đČđšđźđ« đ°đšđ«đđŹ đĄđđ§đ đąđ§đ đđđđ°đđđ§ đČđšđź đđšđđĄ. đđąđŹ đđ±đ©đ«đđŹđŹđąđšđ§ đŹđšđđđđ§đŹ, đđ§đ đđšđ« đ đŠđšđŠđđ§đ, đąđ đŹđđđŠđŹ đ„đąđ€đ đĄđâđŹ đ„đšđŹđ đąđ§ đđĄđšđźđ đĄđ. đđ đŹđĄđąđđđŹ đĄđąđŹ đ°đđąđ đĄđ, đĄđąđŹ đđąđ§đ đđ«đŹ đđđ©đ©đąđ§đ đ§đđ«đŻđšđźđŹđ„đČ đšđ§ đđĄđ đđđđ« đđšđđđ„đ đđ đđąđ§, đđźđ đđĄđąđŹ đđąđŠđ đĄđąđŹ đđČđđŹ đđšđ§âđ đ„đđđŻđ đČđšđźđ«đŹ.
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đąđ§đđ„đ„đČ, đĄđ đŹđ©đđđ€đŹ, đĄđąđŹ đŻđšđąđđ đ„đšđ°đđ« đđĄđđ§ đđđđšđ«đ. âđđĄđđ đđđšđźđ đČđšđź?â đĄđ đđŹđ€đŹ, đĄđąđŹ đ đđłđ đąđ§đđđ§đŹđ đČđđ đŹđđđ«đđĄđąđ§đ , đ„đąđ€đ đĄđ đ°đđ§đđŹ đđš đźđ§đđđ«đŹđđđ§đ đŠđšđ«đ đđđšđźđ đČđšđź đđĄđđ§ đŁđźđŹđ đđĄđ đŹđźđ«đđđđ. âđ đŠđđđ§, đČđšđźâđ«đ đ§đšđ đđ«đšđŠ đĄđđ«đ. đđš, đ°đĄđđ đđ«đšđźđ đĄđ đČđšđź đĄđđ«đ?â
đđšđź đĄđđŹđąđđïżœïżœïżœđ đđšđ« đ đŠđšđŠđđ§đ, đ đŹđźđđđđ§ đ°đđąđ đĄđ đąđ§ đČđšđźđ« đđĄđđŹđ. đđâđŹ đ§đšđ đŹđšđŠđđđĄđąđ§đ đČđšđź đźđŹđźđđ„đ„đČ đŹđĄđđ«đ, đđŹđ©đđđąđđ„đ„đČ đ§đšđ đ°đąđđĄ đŹđšđŠđđšđ§đ đ°đĄđš đđđ«đđ„đČ đ€đ§đšđ°đŹ đČđšđź. đđźđ đđĄđđ«đâđŹ đŹđšđŠđđđĄđąđ§đ đąđ§ đđąđđ€âđŹ đđČđđŹ, đŹđšđŠđđđĄđąđ§đ đđĄđđ đđđ„đ„đŹ đČđšđź đĄđâđŹ đđđđ§ đ°đĄđđ«đ đČđšđź đđ«đ, đđ§đ đŠđđČđđ, đŁđźđŹđ đŠđđČđđ, đĄđâđ„đ„ đ đđ đąđ.
âđ đ đšđ đąđ§đđš đ đ„đšđ đšđ đđ«đšđźđđ„đ đđđđ€ đĄđšđŠđ,â đČđšđź đŹđđČ đȘđźđąđđđ„đČ, đČđšđźđ« đŻđšđąđđ đđ„đŠđšđŹđ đđąđŹđđđ§đ đđŹ đČđšđź đđđ€đ đ đđ«đđđđĄ. âđđšđźđ„đđ§âđ đŹđđđŠ đđš đŹđđđČ đšđźđ đšđ đąđ. đ đ°đđŹ đđ„đ°đđČđŹ đ„đšđšđ€đąđ§đ đđšđ« đŹđšđŠđđđĄđąđ§đ , đŹđšđŠđ đ°đđČ đšđźđ. đđŻđđ§đđźđđ„đ„đČ, đ đĄđđ đđš đŠđšđŻđ đđšđ°đ§ đđš đđđšđ«đ đąđ. đđđ đ đđ«đđŹđĄ đŹđđđ«đ, đČâđ€đ§đšđ°?â
đđąđđ€ đ§đšđđŹ đŹđ„đšđ°đ„đČ, đĄđąđŹ đ đđłđ đŹđšđđđđ§đąđ§đ đđŹ đąđ đĄđ đźđ§đđđ«đŹđđđ§đđŹ đŠđšđ«đ đđĄđđ§ đČđšđźâđ«đ đŹđđČđąđ§đ . âđđšđźđ§đđŹ đ„đąđ€đ đąđ đ°đđŹ đ đđšđźđ đĄ đŹđąđđźđđđąđšđ§.â
đđšđź đ„đđźđ đĄ đ„đąđ đĄđđ„đČ, đđĄđ đŹđšđźđ§đ đ§đšđ đȘđźđąđđ đŠđđđđĄđąđ§đ đđĄđ đŹđđ«đąđšđźđŹđ§đđŹđŹ đąđ§ đČđšđźđ« đđČđđŹ. âđđšđź đđšđźđ„đ đŹđđČ đđĄđđ.â
đđĄđ đŹđąđ„đđ§đđ đđđđ°đđđ§ đČđšđź đŹđđ«đđđđĄđđŹ, đđšđŠđđšđ«đđđđ„đ đąđ§ đ đ°đđČ, đđŹ đČđšđź đđšđđĄ đ©đ«đšđđđŹđŹ đđđđĄ đšđđĄđđ«âđŹ đ°đšđ«đđŹ. đđ§đ đđšđ« đ đŠđšđŠđđ§đ, đąđâđŹ đ„đąđ€đ đđĄđ đ°đšđ«đ„đ đšđźđđŹđąđđ đđĄđąđŹ đ«đšđšđŠ đđšđđŹđ§âđ đŠđđđđđ«. đđąđ€đ đ§đšđđĄđąđ§đ đđ„đŹđ đąđŹ đ đšđąđ§đ đđš đąđ§đđđ«đđđ«đ đ°đąđđĄ đ°đĄđđâđŹ đĄđđ©đ©đđ§đąđ§đ đđđđ°đđđ§ đČđšđź đđ°đš.
đđąđđĄđšđźđ đđĄđąđ§đ€đąđ§đ , đ°đąđđĄđšđźđ đ°đđ«đ§đąđ§đ , đČđšđź đŠđšđŻđ đđ„đšđŹđđ« đđš đĄđąđŠ. đđĄđ đŹđ©đđđ đđđđ°đđđ§ đČđšđź đđđđ„đŹ đ„đąđ€đ đąđâđŹ đđąđ„đ„đđ đ°đąđđĄ đđ„đđđđ«đąđđąđđČ, đđĄđđ«đ đđ, đźđ§đđđ§đąđđđ„đ. đđ§đ đ°đĄđđ§ đČđšđźđ« đ„đąđ©đŹ đŠđđđ đĄđąđŹ, đąđâđŹ đ„đąđ€đ đđŻđđ«đČđđĄđąđ§đ đđĄđđ đ°đđŹ đ„đđđ đźđ§đŹđđąđ đąđŹ đđąđ§đđ„đ„đČ đ đąđŻđđ§ đŻđšđąđđ.
đđ đđąđ«đŹđ, đąđâđŹ đŹđšđđ, đĄđđŹđąđđđ§đ. đđźđ đđĄđđ§ đąđ đđđđ©đđ§đŹ, đđĄđ đĄđđđ đšđ đąđ đđźđąđ„đđąđ§đ đđŹ đČđšđź đđšđđĄ đ đąđŻđ đąđ§ đđš đŹđšđŠđđđĄđąđ§đ đ§đđąđđĄđđ« đšđ đČđšđź đđ±đ©đđđđđ. đđąđđ€âđŹ đĄđđ§đ đđąđ§đđŹ đđĄđ đđđđ€ đšđ đČđšđźđ« đ§đđđ€, đ©đźđ„đ„đąđ§đ đČđšđź đđ„đšđŹđđ«, đđĄđ đ€đąđŹđŹ đŠđšđ«đ đđđŹđ©đđ«đđđ đ§đšđ°, đđŹ đąđ đđ«đČđąđ§đ đđš đŠđđ€đ đźđ© đđšđ« đ„đšđŹđ đđąđŠđ.
đđąđđĄđšđźđ đđ«đđđ€đąđ§đ đđĄđ đ€đąđŹđŹ, đđąđđ€ đ„đđđđŹ đČđšđź đđš đđĄđ đđđđ«đšđšđŠ, đĄđąđŹ đĄđđ§đ đŹđđ«đšđ§đ đđ§đ đŹđźđ«đ đđ đđĄđ đŹđŠđđ„đ„ đšđ đČđšđźđ« đđđđ€. đđšđź đđšđ„đ„đšđ° đĄđąđŠ, đČđšđźđ« đĄđđđ«đ đ«đđđąđ§đ , đđĄđ đđđŹđđ đšđ đĄđąđŹ đđđđ« đšđ§ đČđšđźđ« đđšđ§đ đźđ đđ§đ đđĄđ đŹđŠđđ„đ„ đšđ đĄđąđŹ đđšđ„đšđ đ§đ đđąđ„đ„đąđ§đ đČđšđźđ« đ§đšđŹđ. đđĄđ đ«đšđšđŠ đąđŹ đđąđŠđ„đČ đ„đąđ, đđĄđ đđźđ«đđđąđ§đŹ đ©đźđ„đ„đđ đđ„đšđŹđđ, đđ§đ đđĄđ đđđ đąđŹ đźđ§đŠđđđ, đđ„đšđđĄđđŹ đŹđđđđđđ«đđ đđđ«đšđŹđŹ đąđ. đđâđŹ đđ„đđđ« đĄđâđŹ đđđđ§ đ„đąđŻđąđ§đ đąđ§ đđĄđđšđŹ, đŠđźđđĄ đ„đąđ€đ đĄđąđŹ đ„đąđđ.
đđ đ©đźđ„đ„đŹ đđ°đđČ đđ«đšđŠ đđĄđ đ€đąđŹđŹ, đĄđąđŹ đđČđđŹ đŹđđđ«đđĄđąđ§đ đČđšđźđ«đŹ đđšđ« đ©đđ«đŠđąđŹđŹđąđšđ§, đđšđ« đ«đđđŹđŹđźđ«đđ§đđ đđĄđđ đđĄïżœïżœđŹ đąđŹ đ°đĄđđ đČđšđź đđšđđĄ đ°đđ§đ.
"đ đđĄđšđźđ đĄđ đČđšđź đđąđđ§'đ đŹđ„đđđ© đ°đąđđĄ ïżœïżœđđ«đ«đąđđ đŠđđ§," đĄđ đŹđđČđŹ, đĄđąđŹ đđšđ§đ đ„đąđ đĄđ, đđ„đŠđšđŹđ đđŹ đąđ đĄđâđŹ đŁđšđ€đąđ§đ .
"đđĄđźđ đźđ©," đČđšđź đ«đđ©đ„đČ đđąđ«đŠđ„đČ, đ©đźđ„đ„đąđ§đ đĄđąđŠ đđ„đšđŹđđ« đđŹ đČđšđź đđđđ©đđ§ đđĄđ đ€đąđŹđŹ đđ đđąđ§.
đđąđđ€'đŹ đĄđđ§đ đŠđšđŻđđŹ đđš đČđšđźđ« đ°đđąđŹđ, đđ§đ đ°đąđđĄ đŹđźđ«đ©đ«đąđŹđąđ§đ đŹđđ«đđ§đ đđĄ, đĄđ đ„đąđđđŹ đČđšđź đźđ© đđ§đ đ©đźđŹđĄđđŹ đČđšđź đ đđ§đđ„đČ đšđ§đđš đđĄđ đđđ. đđšđź đđšđ§âđ đ«đđŹđąđŹđ, đČđšđźđ« đ„đđ đŹ đ°đ«đđ©đ©đąđ§đ đđ«đšđźđ§đ đĄđąđŹ đ°đđąđŹđ đđŹ đČđšđź đ„đđ đĄđąđŠ đđđ€đ đđšđ§đđ«đšđ„. đđĄđ đđđđ«đąđ đšđ đČđšđźđ« đŹđĄđąđ«đ đŹđđąđđ€đŹ đđš đČđšđźđ« đđđđ€ đđŹ đČđšđź đ„đđČ đđĄđđ«đ, đđĄđ đđšđšđ„đ§đđŹđŹ đšđ đđĄđ đ«đšđšđŠ đŹđźđđđđ§đ„đČ đ«đđ©đ„đđđđ đđČ đđĄđ đĄđđđ đšđ đĄđąđŹ đđšđđČ. đđ đŹđđđŹ đČđšđź đđšđ°đ§, đđĄđ đŠđđđđ«đđŹđŹ đŹđȘđźđđđ€đąđ§đ đđđąđ§đđ„đČ đźđ§đđđ« đđĄđ đ°đđąđ đĄđ đšđ đđĄđ đđ°đš đšđ đČđšđź, đđ§đ đČđšđź đđđ§ đđđđ„ đĄđąđŹ đĄđđđ«đ đ©đšđźđ§đđąđ§đ đđ đđąđ§đŹđ đČđšđźđ« đđĄđđŹđ.
đđąđŹ đŠđšđźđđĄ đŠđšđŻđđŹ đđš đČđšđźđ« đ§đđđ€, đ€đąđŹđŹđąđ§đ đđ§đ đ§đąđ©đ©đąđ§đ đ đđ§đđ„đČ đđŹ đĄđ đ°đšđ«đ€đŹ đĄđąđŹ đ°đđČ đđšđ°đ§. đđšđźđ« đđ«đđđđĄ đĄđąđđđĄđđŹ đđŹ đĄđąđŹ đĄđđ§đđŹ đđ«đđđ đđĄđ đ„đąđ§đđŹ đšđ đČđšđźđ« đđšđđČ, đđ±đ©đ„đšđ«đąđ§đ đČđšđź đąđ§ đ đ°đđČ đđĄđđ đđđđ„đŹ đđšđđĄ đąđ§đđąđŠđđđ đđ§đ đšđŻđđ«đ°đĄđđ„đŠđąđ§đ . đđšđź'đŻđ đđđđ§ đŹđđđ«đŻđđ đđšđ« đđĄđąđŹ đ€đąđ§đ đšđ đđšđ§đ§đđđđąđšđ§, đđ§đ đđŻđđ§ đđĄđšđźđ đĄ đČđšđź đ€đ§đšđ° đąđ'đŹ đ°đ«đšđ§đ , đąđ đđđđ„đŹ đŹđš đ«đąđ đĄđ đąđ§ đđĄđąđŹ đŠđšđŠđđ§đ. đđĄđ đ°đšđ«đ„đ đšđźđđŹđąđđ đđĄđ đ«đšđšđŠ đđđđđŹ đđ°đđČ đđŹ đČđšđź đ„đšđŹđ đČđšđźđ«đŹđđ„đ đąđ§ đđĄđ đŹđđ§đŹđđđąđšđ§ đšđ đĄđąđŹ đđšđźđđĄ.
đđšđź đđđ§ đđđđ„ đđĄđ đđđ§đŹđąđšđ§ đđšđąđ„đąđ§đ đąđ§ đČđšđźđ« đŹđđšđŠđđđĄ đđŹ đĄđ đźđ§đđźđđđšđ§đŹ đČđšđźđ« đŁđđđ§đŹ, đŹđ„đąđđąđ§đ đđĄđđŠ đđšđ°đ§ đČđšđźđ« đ„đđ đŹ đ°đąđđĄ đđ§ đźđ«đ đđ§đđČ đđĄđđ đŠđąđ«đ«đšđ«đŹ đČđšđźđ« đšđ°đ§. đđšđźđ« đĄđđ§đđŹ đđ«đ đąđ§ đĄđąđŹ đĄđđąđ«, đ©đźđ„đ„đąđ§đ đĄđąđŠ đđ„đšđŹđđ«, đđŹ đĄđ đ€đąđŹđŹđđŹ đđšđ°đ§ đČđšđźđ« đđšđđČ, đ„đđđŻđąđ§đ đ đđ«đđąđ„ đšđ đđąđ«đ đ°đĄđđ«đđŻđđ« đĄđ đ đšđđŹ. đđĄđ đđ§đđąđđąđ©đđđąđšđ§ đąđŹ đđ đšđ§đąđłđąđ§đ , đđźđ đČđšđź đđšđ§'đ đ°đđ§đ đąđ đđš đŹđđšđ©. đđšđź đđ«đđĄ đąđ§đđš đĄđąđŹ đđšđźđđĄ, đđ«đđŻđąđ§đ đŠđšđ«đ, đ§đđđđąđ§đ đąđ đ„đąđ€đ đđąđ«.
đđĄđđ§ đĄđ đđąđ§đđ„đ„đČ đ«đđđđĄđđŹ đČđšđźđ« đźđ§đđđ«đ°đđđ«, đĄđ đ©đđźđŹđđŹ, đ„đšđšđ€đąđ§đ đźđ© đđ đČđšđź đđšđ« đđšđ§đđąđ«đŠđđđąđšđ§. đđšđź đ§đšđ, đČđšđźđ« đđČđđŹ đĄđđ„đ-đ„đąđđđđ đ°đąđđĄ đđđŹđąđ«đ, đđ§đ đĄđ đĄđšđšđ€đŹ đĄđąđŹ đđąđ§đ đđ«đŹ đąđ§đđš đđĄđ đ°đđąđŹđđđđ§đ, đ đđ§đđ„đČ đŹđ„đąđđąđ§đ đđĄđ đđđđ«đąđ đđšđ°đ§ đČđšđźđ« đđĄđąđ đĄđŹ. đđ đ€đąđŹđŹđđŹ đđĄđ đąđ§đŹđąđđ đšđ đČđšđźđ« đ€đ§đđ, đŠđšđŻđąđ§đ đĄđąđ đĄđđ«, đźđ§đđąđ„ đČđšđź'đ«đ đđ±đ©đšđŹđđ đđš đĄđąđŠ. đđĄđ đđšđšđ„ đđąđ« đšđ đđĄđ đ«đšđšđŠ đđ«đźđŹđĄđđŹ đđ đđąđ§đŹđ đČđšđźđ« đŹđ€đąđ§, đŹđđ§đđąđ§đ đŹđĄđąđŻđđ«đŹ đđšđ°đ§ đČđšđźđ« đŹđ©đąđ§đ.
đđąđŹ đŠđšđźđđĄ đąđŹ đšđ§ đČđšđź đđđđšđ«đ đČđšđź đđđ§ đđŻđđ§ đ©đ«đšđđđŹđŹ đ°đĄđđ'đŹ đĄđđ©đ©đđ§đąđ§đ . đđąđŹ đđšđ§đ đźđ đąđŹ đĄđšđ đđ§đ đ°đđ, đđ±đ©đ„đšđ«đąđ§đ đđŻđđ«đČ đąđ§đđĄ đšđ đČđšđź đ°đąđđĄ đ đĄđźđ§đ đđ« đđĄđđ'đŹ đ©đđ„đ©đđđ„đ. đđšđź đ đ«đąđ© đđĄđ đđđđŹđĄđđđđŹ đđąđ đĄđđ„đČ đđŹ đĄđ đđđđŹđđŹ đđ§đ đđđŹđđđŹ, đđąđ§đđąđ§đ đđĄđ đ©đđ«đđđđ đ«đĄđČđđĄđŠ đđĄđđ đĄđđŹ đČđšđź đ đđŹđ©đąđ§đ đđ§đ đ°đ«đąđđĄđąđ§đ đđïżœïżœđđđđĄ đĄđąđŠ. đđ'đŹ đđđđ§ đŹđš đ„đšđ§đ đŹđąđ§đđ đđ§đČđšđ§đ'đŹ đŠđđđ đČđšđź đđđđ„ đ„đąđ€đ đđĄđąđŹâđđđŹđąđ«đđ, đ°đđ§đđđ, đđĄđđ«đąđŹđĄđđ.
đđ'đŹ đ«đđ„đđ§đđ„đđŹđŹ, đĄđąđŹ đŠđšđŻđđŠđđ§đđŹ đŹđ„đšđ° đđ§đ đđđ„đąđđđ«đđđ, đđźđąđ„đđąđ§đ đČđšđź đźđ© đđš đ đđ«đđŹđđđ§đđš đđĄđđ'đŹ đŹđš đąđ§đđđ§đŹđ, đČđšđź đđĄđąđ§đ€ đČđšđź đŠđąđ đĄđ đŹđĄđđđđđ«. đđšđź'đ«đ đ„đšđŹđ đąđ§ đđĄđ đŹđđ§đŹđđđąđšđ§, đđĄđ đ°đšđ«đ„đ đđ«đšđźđ§đ đČđšđź đđđđąđ§đ đđš đ°đĄđąđđ đ§đšđąđŹđ đđŹ đĄđ đđ«đąđ§đ đŹ đČđšđź đđ„đšđŹđđ« đđ§đ đđ„đšđŹđđ«. đđ§đ đ°đĄđđ§ đČđšđź đđąđ§đđ„đ„đČ đđš đđšđŠđ, đąđ'đŹ đ°đąđđĄ đ đđ«đČ đđĄđđ'đŹ đĄđđ„đ đ©đ„đđđŹđźđ«đ, đĄđđ„đ đ«đđ„đąđđ, đČđšđźđ« đđšđđČ đŹđĄđđ€đąđ§đ đ°đąđđĄ đđĄđ đđšđ«đđ đšđ đąđ.
đđđđđ« đ đŠđšđŠđđ§đ, đČđšđźđ« đđ«đđđđĄđąđ§đ đđđ đąđ§đŹ đđš đđŻđđ§ đšđźđ, đđ§đ đČđšđź đđđđšđŠđ đđ°đđ«đ đšđ đđĄđ đŹđšđđ đŹđšđźđ§đđŹ đšđ đđĄđ đ«đšđšđŠ đđ đđąđ§âđđĄđ đĄđźđŠ đšđ đđĄđ đđąđ« đđšđ§đđąđđąđšđ§đđ«, đđĄđ đđąđŹđđđ§đ đđĄđąđ«đ© đšđ đ đđ«đąđđ€đđ đšđźđđŹđąđđ. ïżœïżœïżœđąđđ€'đŹ đŹđđąđ„đ„ đĄđšđŻđđ«đąđ§đ đšđŻđđ« đČđšđź, đĄđąđŹ đđČđđŹ đšđ§ đČđšđźđ«đŹ, đŹđđđ«đđĄđąđ§đ đđšđ« đŹđšđŠđđđĄđąđ§đ . đđšđź đđđ§'đ đȘđźđąđđ đ©đ„đđđ đ°đĄđđ đąđ đąđŹ, đđźđ đąđ đđđđ„đŹ đ„đąđ€đ đĄđ'đŹ đ„đšđšđ€đąđ§đ đđšđ« đđ§ đđ§đŹđ°đđ« đđš đ đȘđźđđŹđđąđšđ§ đĄđ đĄđđŹđ§'đ đČđđ đđŹđ€đđ.
đđąđđĄ đ đ đđ§đđ„đ đ§đźđđ đ, đĄđ đŹđĄđąđđđŹ đĄđąđŹ đđšđđČ, đ©đ«đđŹđŹđąđ§đ đđ đđąđ§đŹđ đČđšđź, đđ§đ đČđšđź đđđđ„ đđĄđ đĄđđ«đđ§đđŹđŹ đšđ đĄđąđŹ đđ«đšđźđŹđđ„. đđ đĄđđŹđąđđđđđŹ, đđŹ đąđ đ°đđąđđąđ§đ đđšđ« đČđšđź đđš đđĄđđ§đ đ đČđšđźđ« đŠđąđ§đ, đđš đ©đźđŹđĄ đĄđąđŠ đđ°đđČ. đđźđ đąđ§đŹđđđđ, đČđšđź đ„đąđđ đČđšđźđ« đĄđąđ©đŹ đŹđ„đąđ đĄđđ„đČ, đźđ«đ đąđ§đ đĄđąđŠ đđ„đšđŹđđ«. đđ đđĄđđ§ đđ§đđđ«đŹ đąđ§đđš đČđšđź, đđ§đ đđĄđ đ°đšđ«đ„đ đŹđđšđ©đŹ đđšđ« đ đđ«đąđđ đŹđđđšđ§đ.
đđ'đŹ đ đŹđđ«đđ§đ đ đŹđđ§đŹđđđąđšđ§, đđđđ„đąđ§đ đĄđąđŠ đąđ§đŹđąđđ đČđšđź, đ„đąđ€đ đČđšđź'đ«đ đđšđŠđ©đ„đđđąđ§đ đ đ©đźđłđłđ„đ đČđšđź đđąđđ§'đ đ€đ§đšđ° đČđšđź đ°đđ«đ đ đ©đđ«đ đšđ. đđąđŹ đŠđšđŻđđŠđđ§đđŹ đđ«đ đŹđ„đšđ°, đŠđđđŹđźđ«đđ, đđŹ đąđ đĄđ'đŹ đđđ«đđąđ đšđ đđ«đđđ€đąđ§đ đŹđšđŠđđđĄđąđ§đ đđ«đđ đąđ„đ. đđšđź đ°đ«đđ© đČđšđźđ« đ„đđ đŹ đđ«đšđźđ§đ đĄđąđŹ đ°đđąđŹđ, đ©đźđ„đ„đąđ§đ đĄđąđŠ đđđđ©đđ«, đźđ«đ đąđ§đ đĄđąđŠ đšđ§ đ°đąđđĄ đŹđšđđ đ°đĄđąđŹđ©đđ«đŹ đšđ đđ§đđšđźđ«đđ đđŠđđ§đ. đđĄđ đđ«đąđđđąđšđ§ đŹđđ§đđŹ đ°đđŻđđŹ đšđ đ©đ„đđđŹđźđ«đ đđšđźđ«đŹđąđ§đ đđĄđ«đšđźđ đĄ đČđšđźđ« đđšđđČ, đđ§đ đČđšđź đđ«đđĄ đźđ© đđš đŠđđđ đĄđąđŹ đđŻđđ«đČ đđĄđ«đźđŹđ.
đđĄđ đ«đšđšđŠ đąđŹ đđąđ„đ„đđ đ°đąđđĄ đđĄđ đŹđšđźđ§đ đšđ đŹđ€đąđ§ đšđ§ đŹđ€đąđ§, đđĄđ đ«đźđŹđđ„đ đšđ đđĄđ đŹđĄđđđđŹ, đđ§đ đđĄđ đšđđđđŹđąđšđ§đđ„ đđ„đąđ§đ€ đšđ đĄđąđŹ đđđ„đ đđźđđ€đ„đ đđ đđąđ§đŹđ đđĄđ đđđ đđ«đđŠđ. đđšđź đđđ§ đđđđ„ đđĄđ đŹđ°đđđ đđźđąđ„đđąđ§đ đźđ© đđđđ°đđđ§ đČđšđźđ« đđšđđąđđŹ đđŹ đđĄđ đĄđđđ đąđ§ đđĄđ đ«đšđšđŠ đđđđšđŠđđŹ đ©đđ„đ©đđđ„đ. đđąđŹ đđĄđźđŠđ đđąđ§đđŹ đČđšđźđ« đđ„đąđ, đđ§đ đĄđ đđđ đąđ§đŹ đđš đ«đźđ đąđ§ đŹđ„đšđ°, đđąđ«đŠ đđąđ«đđ„đđŹ, đŠđđđđĄđąđ§đ đđĄđ đ«đĄđČđđĄđŠ đšđ đĄđąđŹ đĄđąđ©đŹ. đđĄđ đŹđđ§đŹđđđąđšđ§ đąđŹ đąđ§đđđ§đŹđ, đ đ§đđ° đ„đđČđđ« đšđ đ©đ„đđđŹđźđ«đ đđđđđ đđš đđĄđ đđ„đ«đđđđČ đšđŻđđ«đ°đĄđđ„đŠđąđ§đ đŠđąđ±.
đđšđź'đ«đ đđźđąđ„đđąđ§đ đđ đđąđ§, đđĄđ đđđ§đŹđąđšđ§ đđšđąđ„đąđ§đ đđąđ đĄđđđ« đđ§đ đđąđ đĄđđđ«. đđšđźđ« đ§đđąđ„đŹ đđąđ đąđ§đđš đĄđąđŹ đđđđ€, đ„đđđŻđąđ§đ đ„đąđđđ„đ đĄđđ„đ-đŠđšđšđ§đŹ đšđ đ°đĄđąđđ đđ đđąđ§đŹđ đđĄđ đđđ§đ§đđ đŹđ€đąđ§. đđ đŹđđđŠđŹ đđš đ€đ§đšđ° đđ±đđđđ„đČ đ°đĄđđ đČđšđź đ§đđđ, đđđŁđźđŹđđąđ§đ đđĄđ đđ§đ đ„đ đšđ đĄđąđŹ đđĄđ«đźđŹđđŹ đđš đĄđąđ đđĄđđ đŹđ©đšđ đąđ§đŹđąđđ đČđšđź đđĄđđ đŠđđ€đđŹ đČđšđź đŹđđ đŹđđđ«đŹ. đđšđźđ« đđ«đđđđĄ đđšđŠđđŹ đąđ§ đ đđŹđ©đŹ đđ§đ đŠđšđđ§đŹ, đđ§đ đČđšđź'đ«đ đ„đšđŹđ đąđ§ đđĄđ đŹđđ§đŹđđđąđšđ§, đźđ§đđđ„đ đđš đđš đđ§đČđđĄđąđ§đ đđźđ đđđđ„.
đđŹ đČđšđź đđšđŠđ đđ đđąđ§, đąđ'đŹ đ„đąđ€đ đ đđđŠ đđ«đđđ€đąđ§đ , đđĄđ đ©đ„đđđŹđźđ«đ đđ„đšđšđđąđ§đ đđĄđ«đšđźđ đĄ đČđšđź đąđ§ đ đ°đđŻđ đđĄđđ đ„đđđŻđđŹ đČđšđź đđ«đđŠđđ„đąđ§đ . đđšđź đđđ„đ„ đšđźđ đĄđąđŹ đ§đđŠđ, đČđšđźđ« đŻđšđąđđ đĄđšđđ«đŹđ đđ«đšđŠ đđĄđ đđđđšđ«đ đšđ đĄđšđ„đđąđ§đ đđđđ€. đđ đ đ«đšđđ§đŹ, đĄđąđŹ đŠđšđŻđđŠđđ§đđŹ đđđđšđŠđąđ§đ đŠđšđ«đ đđ«đ«đđđąđ, đđ§đ đČđšđź đ€đ§đšđ° đĄđ'đŹ đđ„đšđŹđ đđšđš.
đđ§đ đđĄđđ§ đĄđ'đŹ đđĄđđ«đ, đĄđąđŹ đđšđđČ đŹđđąđđđđ§đąđ§đ đđđšđŻđ đČđšđźđ«đŹ đđŹ đĄđ đ«đđ„đđđŹđđŹ đĄđąđŠđŹđđ„đ đąđ§đŹđąđđ đšđ đČđšđź. đđĄđ đđđđ„đąđ§đ đąđŹ đąđ§đđđ§đŹđ, đ đŠđąđ± đšđ đŹđđđąđŹđđđđđąđšđ§ đđ§đ đ đźđąđ„đ đđĄđđ đČđšđź đđ«đČ đđš đ©đźđŹđĄ đđ°đđČ. đ
đšđ« đ đŠđšđŠđđ§đ, đąđ'đŹ đŁđźđŹđ đđĄđ đđ°đš đšđ đČđšđź, đđšđ§đ§đđđđđ đąđ§ đ đ°đđČ đđĄđđ'đŹ đŠđšđ«đ đđĄđđ§ đ©đĄđČđŹđąđđđ„. đđšđźđ« đđČđđŹ đ„đšđđ€, đđ§đ đČđšđź đđđ§ đŹđđ đđĄđ đ«đđ° đđŠđšđđąđšđ§ đąđ§ đĄđąđŹâđ«đđ„đąđđ, đ©đ„đđđŹđźđ«đ, đđ§đ đŹđšđŠđđđĄđąđ§đ đđđđ©đđ«, đŹđšđŠđđđĄđąđ§đ đđĄđđ đŠđđ€đđŹ đČđšđźđ« đĄđđđ«đ đđđĄđ đđšđ« đĄđąđŠ.
đđŹ đĄđ đ©đźđ„đ„đŹ đđ°đđČ, đđĄđ đ«đšđšđŠ đđđđ„đŹ đđšđ„đđđ«, đđĄđ đŹđ©đđ„đ„ đđ«đšđ€đđ§. đđšđź đđšđđĄ đ„đąđ đđĄđđ«đ, đ©đđ§đđąđ§đ , đŹđđđ«đąđ§đ đđ đđĄđ đđđąđ„đąđ§đ . đđĄđ đŹđąđ„đđ§đđ đąđŹ đđđđđđ§đąđ§đ , đđąđ„đ„đđ đ°đąđđĄ đđĄđ đźđ§đŹđ©đšđ€đđ§ đȘđźđđŹđđąđšđ§đŹ đđĄđđ đĄđđ§đ đąđ§ đđĄđ đđąđ«. đđĄđđ đđšđđŹ đđĄđąđŹ đŠđđđ§? đđĄđđ đĄđđ©đ©đđ§đŹ đ§đšđ°? đđšđź'đŻđ đđ«đšđŹđŹđđ đ đ„đąđ§đ đČđšđź đđđ§ đ§đđŻđđ« đźđ§đđ«đšđŹđŹ, đđźđ đąđ§ đđĄđąđŹ đŠđšđŠđđ§đ, đČđšđź đđđ§'đ đđ«đąđ§đ đČđšđźđ«đŹđđ„đ đđš đ«đđ đ«đđ đąđ.
đđąđđ€ đ«đšđ„đ„đŹ đšđ§đđš đĄđąđŹ đđđđ€, đšđ§đ đđ«đŠ đđ„đźđ§đ đšđŻđđ« đĄđąđŹ đđđđ, đđŹ đąđ đŹđĄđąđđ„đđąđ§đ đĄđąđŠđŹđđ„đ đđ«đšđŠ đđĄđ đ«đđđ„đąđđČ đšđ đ°đĄđđ'đŹ đŁđźđŹđ đĄđđ©đ©đđ§đđ. đđšđź đđđ§ đŹđđ đđĄđ đŠđźđŹđđ„đđŹ đąđ§ đĄđąđŹ đđĄđđŹđ đ«đąđŹđ đđ§đ đđđ„đ„ đ°đąđđĄ đĄđąđŹ đ«đđ đ đđ đđ«đđđđĄđŹ. đđđąđđĄđđ« đšđ đČđšđź đŹđđČđŹ đđ§đČđđĄđąđ§đ , đđĄđ đ°đđąđ đĄđ đšđ đČđšđźđ« đđđđąđšđ§đŹ đ©đ«đđŹđŹđąđ§đ đđšđ°đ§ đšđ§ đČđšđź đ„đąđ€đ đ đĄđđđŻđČ đđ„đđ§đ€đđ.
đđĄđ đŠđąđ§đźđđđŹ đđąđđ€ đđČ, đđĄđ đŹđąđ„đđ§đđ đŹđđ«đđđđĄđąđ§đ đđđđ°đđđ§ đČđšđź đ„đąđ€đ đ đđąđ đĄđđ«đšđ©đ đđĄđđ đđšđźđ„đ đŹđ§đđ© đđ đđ§đČ đŠđšđŠđđ§đ. đ
đąđ§đđ„đ„đČ, đĄđ đŹđąđđŹ đźđ©, đ«đźđ§đ§đąđ§đ đ đĄđđ§đ đđĄđ«đšđźđ đĄ đĄđąđŹ đĄđđąđ«, đđ§đ đ„đšđšđ€đŹ đđ đČđšđź. "đ'đŠ đŹđšđ«đ«đČ," đĄđ đŹđđČđŹ, đĄđąđŹ đŻđšđąđđ đ đ«đźđđ.
đđšđź đ©đ«đšđ© đČđšđźđ«đŹđđ„đ đźđ© đšđ§ đšđ§đ đđ„đđšđ°, đ„đšđšđ€đąđ§đ đđ đĄđąđŠ. "đđĄđđ đđšđ«?"
"đ
đšđ« đđĄđąđŹ," đĄđ đŹđđČđŹ, đ đđŹđđźđ«đąđ§đ đđš đđĄđ đ«đźđŠđ©đ„đđ đđđ, đđĄđ đđŻđąđđđ§đđ đšđ đČđšđźđ« đđ«đČđŹđ. "đ'đŠ đ§đšđ đźđŹđźđđ„đ„đČ đ„đąđ€đ đđĄđąđŹ."
đđšđź đ đąđŻđ đĄđąđŠ đ đŹđŠđđ„đ„ đŹđŠđąđ„đ, đ«đđđđĄđąđ§đ đšđźđ đđš đđ«đđđ đ đđąđ§đ đđ« đđ„đšđ§đ đĄđąđŹ đŁđđ°đ„đąđ§đ. "đđđąđđĄđđ« đđŠ đ."
đ«đąđđ€ đ đ«đąđŠđđŹ đŠđđŹđđđ«đ„đąđŹđáŻđđ
đŠđđŹđđđ«đ„đąđŹđáŻđđ
#this is so good oh my god đââïžđââïžđ«¶đ»#excited to see where this goes#rick grimes x reader
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Soap when he stumbles upon that shot showing off your ootd. âWho is that scrumptious lilâ bunny????â
đđđ
taking this and running with it - Soap stumbling upon your Instagram account via reels and becoming low-key obsessed (delusional king? of course)
Johnny who doom scrolls on Instagram after deployments to get away from reality. he follows fitness influencers, the occasional cooking account, but his latest binge has been you. and heâs blatant about it. one of your outfit of the day videos popped up on his feed and he was smitten. you were so pleased with yourself, giddy smile on your lips as you pointed out your shoes and top, doing a little spin for the camera before padding over to end the video. absolutely taken with you, he watched that little clip for what felt like an hour
Johnny who lays down to binge your account, liking every reel and photo. you get every single notification, an eyebrow raised as this man likes videos from years ago. Johnny doesnât even register heâs flooding your notifications, heâs too caught up in looking at you, at your posts, taking in what sort of life you live. heâs absorbed by the photos, fragments of your life you shared - he starts wondering if he can worm his way into yours too. another photo, another double tap, another reel, another seven minutes lost watching it
Johnny who starts leaving comments a few days later. finds something to say on every single post. he has no shame, comments on how he wishes he was with you, how youâd feel against him, how you should try your boots with that outfit instead of your flats - because heâs memorized a good portion of your wardrobe. itâs not long before heâs ballsy enough to actually reach out, a quick dm sent your way asking for your number. heâs noticed you donât have a partner, to your accountâs knowledge, and heâd love to take you out
Johnny whoâs shocked that you blocked him. huffing and puffing, pouting before heâs making a new account just to follow you. suddenly heâs trying to piece together where youâve been, your regular coffee shops and hangouts. fixates on trying to meet you because, in his mind, you canât block him if he asks you out in-person, right? face to charming face, his lopsided smile and smitten gaze looking at you as he asks for your number again, âYou remember me, right bonnie?â
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Reminder for when he âsavesâ it. He was the one who wanted this, and now he gets to be the hero and win favour with young constituents. Donât give him the credit for fixing his own problem.
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Gods most unfortunate soldier
A non comprehensive list of König being god's most unfortunate soldier:
Has been shot in the ass before, both cheeks. Told you it was a dimple when you asked about it at first.
Responded to a cashier with "no need" when they told him to have a nice day, he wasn't really listening and thought they asked him for the receipt.
A girl he was crushing on said she was from Latin America, he learned a bunch of spanish to impress her, only for her to roll and tells him she's from Brazil before walking away.
One time he was trying to show a girl a picture of his hometown on his phone, but forgot that he was using the safari app to watch some of the raunchiest porn known to man that morning and forgot to close the tab. She wasn't that interested in hearing about the local thousand year old church after that.
A cute girl asked for his number once in a pub and he reflexively asked "why?"
He was going down on a girl and when she looked down she say him kicking his feet while eating her out and it was an instant ick. She wouldn't even let him get her off :c.
The first time you two fucked it was after a VERY long dry spell and the second he put it in he thanked you while blinking tears away.
Has a piss kink but lives in complete fear that you would leave him for it so he never even brings it up.
Divider by @thecutestgrotto
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thinking about a fem4fem relationship with haley ౚà§
â she gets so blushy and giddy when you compliment her, especially during the beginnings of your relationship. she'll hide it at first, going back home and thinking about your words all night, but eventually you get to see her sweet smile more and more.
â at first, she saw you as competition, or maybe just envy. you're the new farmer, you're pretty, you dress in cute clothes like her, you're drawing attention away from her. she pouts and grumbles everytime someone brings you up.
â but then she starts looking for you more. she starts admiring your flower dance dress, she roots for you at the egg hunt, she admires you when you're fishing at the pier while she's tanning. she brings all this up to alex, just rambling, and he looks at her like "seriously?"
â alex sweetly informs haley that she has a crush on you. she gets defensive, but when alex starts listing off all these "symptoms" of a crush, she blushes more and more.
â even though she knows she has a crush on you, she waits for you to say something first. she'll make hints and seek you out, but in no way will she potentially face the embarrassment of your rejection. when you finally ask her on a date, she's over the moon.
â loves loves loves coordinating outfits. you'll have bikinis in the same color, cute silk matching pajamas that she bought out in zuzu, similar winter coat shapes, matching cowboy boots. she always makes excuses like "they were on sale if you bought two!" but you know there's more to it.
â she enjoys peaceful nights at the farmhouse where you're doing your nightly routines together in the mirror, haley moisturizing her skin, you applying pimple patches.
â likes having you paint her nails. you'll sit on the couch, or maybe the front porch on a swing, her feet lazily perched in your lap while you apply pink polish to her toes. and then you reach for her hands and she keeps them as still as she can for you.
â genuinely thrives so much on your praise and love. and she takes it so seriously too! when someone like alex compliments her hair, she smiles, but he doesn't know the work that went into creating the perfect windswept blowout look. but you do.
â there's usually never much discourse about who spoons who or who "wears the pants" in the relationship. dating haley is balanced and things just fall the way they do. you know when to be the big spoon for her and she knows when to let you lay your head down in her lap, her fingers running through your hair.
â this is so cheesy and typical but she really does like when you give each other makeovers. it's so quiet and intimate and she relishes in your gentle touches on her face as you do her eyeliner. (also imagine this with an alt!farmer, like someone who gravitates towards a darker makeup style than her, and how fun it would be to switch styles for a night in the house).
â lowkey though your bathroom is a wreck. a hundred bottles in the shower, makeup scattered along the counter, sweet sticky notes stuck to the mirror, necklaces and jewelry hanging haphazardly on an organizer on the back wall.
â no matter who proposes to who and who receives the mermaid pendant, the other will get something of equal significance. haley would opt for a necklace of her own, something with your initials engraved on it.
â loves giving and receiving flowers. her eyes just light up so much when she walks in to a fresh bouquet of sunflowers, having just been plucked from your own garden and arranged beautifully. she thinks you would be a florist in another life. she prefers walking around the valley, taking pictures and collecting the prettiest wildflowers along the way to present to you.
â speaking of taking pictures, you're her best model! she'll take photos of you working on the farm, photos of you lying next to her on the beach, photos of you posed on the bed, dressed in little to nothing. says you make the prettiest photos for her.
â haley's lowk a freak in some ways. she kinda craves to be worshipped, but also wants to worship you. so she thrives on praise in and out of the bedroom. adores having you kiss her, tell her how beautiful she is, and she returns the favor for you.
â the easiest way to really get her flustered and needy is to ramp up the praise, making it almost extreme. tell her she's a goddess, she's a queen, nobody else could ever compare to her, you're so lucky to have such a pretty girl in your bed. she'll be like putty in your hands.
â the top/bottom and sub/dom dynamics are relatively balanced. i think it depends on the mood and the day and how sleepy haley is feeling. for example, she'd be more of a willing and dominant top if she's had a good day, like when you've laid out on the beach together in the summer and she's gotten the privilege to watch your body in a swimsuit all day long. she'd want to be cared for and treated though if it's a cold winter and she's huffy and overstimulated from her coat and scarf all day.
â she loves mutual masturbation, but will never say it out loud. she'll look so pretty with her splayed across your pillows, fingers between her legs, her bright blue eyes looking at you intensely as you pleasure your own self. you notice just how turned on she is and note to return to it again.
â loves bathing together and shamelessly running her hands all across your body, chalking it up to just washing off the farm from you (her words not mine), but really she's behind you biting her lips as her hands graze over your breasts and thighs.
â she's always watching and admiring you working. she sits on the front porch of your farmhouse, watching you harvest parsnips with your hair pulled back, your usual feminine clothes having been replaced by old farm gear. she's thinking long and hard about everything she wants to do with you.
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Shane in his Joja Mart uniform (ft. Sam who imo would love Sabrina Carpenter)
Extra doodle:
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konigs red flags? <3
königâs red flags.
cw. gn!reader.
âïž emotionally immature/lack of common sense/empathy
like. genuinely. you need to sit this man down and explain everything to him. and even that doesnât guarantee that he will understand what youâre saying. being in the military, he is used to receiving commands with specific outcomes. you need to do this for that to happen. it makes sense to him only if it is logical. so when you tell him you would like him to do this or that because it would make you feel a certain way, he is staring at you like a lost sheep, because what do you even mean?
doesnât know the difference between âwill you be my girlfriend/boyfriendâ vs âcan i be your boyfriend.â doesnât even know the second one exists because it is the same thing for him.Â
i think when you two start getting closer, kiss each other, hang out often, and just overall get more physically touchy, he automatically assumes you are a couple and rolls with it. doesnât even propose for you to be his partner because if you didnât like him you wouldnât do all that, right? right??
when his behavior leaves you with mixed signals, and you finally ask him if he even likes you, he is actually confused âwhat do you mean, schatz? we are together.â and when you tell him he didnât ask you, he has the audacity to be flabbergasted with an âi had to ask??â
same thing happens when some people prefer their partner to ask them out on valentines day, and you happen to be one of them. actually has no clue why you are sad or mad with him. he had to ask? again?? if you are together, who elseâs valentine would you be?? âiâm sorry, bitte. i didnât know. why didnât you tell me?â bright blue eyes, sheepishly staring back at you. itâs not like he is arrogant or doesnât respect you. he is just a fuckin idiot.
âïž clinginess
personal space doesnât exist in his vocabulary, especially if you two live together. he wants to be around you 24/7 and do everything with you. youâre writing something in your journal? he scoots the chair to sit next to you and read. need to go to the bathroom? accompanies you on the way and STAYS THERE. even if you have to take a fuckin shit. nothing about you can gross him out. you are going out with your friends? okay, let him put on his cargo pants. wait, what do you mean he isnât comi-Â
âïž communication issues/overly emotional and avoidant
the thing with könig is that he either doesnât think or overthinks like there is no tomorrow. if you sit next to him on the couch and donât cuddle him, he gaslights himself into believing you are avoiding him or donât love him anymore. and instead of asking if you are mad at him or if he did something wrong for you to deny it and resolve the issue, he just bottles it in and distracts himself with something else â anything that will keep him busy and avoid you for the whole day before he canât take it anymore, his need to cling to you getting ahead of him as he stumbles into the bedroom and holds onto you for his dear life.
when you two are having an argument, he might actually fucking bawl his eyes out and beg you not to leave him. of course, you werenât going to. you are just explaining to him what he did wrong and what he can do to fix it. but he is already on his knees, gripping onto your hips so tightly with his face buried in your torso, bubbling apologies and pleas in german and how he would actually die if you leave him.
âïž dry texter
especially tragic during the early stages of your relationship. you send him a selfie of you, looking as gorgeous as ever. his pupils dilating and getting replaced with literal hearts and his pants getting uncomfotably tighter. he is so lost for words that he doesnât even know what to say because nothing can ever describe how much he loves you and how beautiful you are. so instead, he decides to do the next stupid thing â leaving you on seen or just reacting with a heart emoji.
safe to say he learns his lesson when he later sees your glossy eyes, trying his best to be more affectionate over texts, and you learn not to take his dry-ass reactions â or lack of them â too close to heart.Â
he is stupid. please be patient with him.
# könig masterlist | main m.list | join the taglist
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CW: 18+ MDNI, soapgaz x reader, clubbing, implied noncon/dubcon - unedited - dividers -> @/cafekitsune
So, on your much anticipated vacation to Berlin, you got peer-pressured into clubbing? You can handle that. Your friend practically vanishing into the pulsing crowd with a kiss blown in your direction and an arm hooked around their waist, howeverâŠ
Despite the alarms firing off in your mind, what else could you do but try to enjoy the night you paid for?
This train of thought is how you find yourself coated in sweat and grinding rhythmically against a big, stocky scot with an award-winning smile and a set of thick, wandering hands. The music is too loud to hear much of anything he says whenever he ducks towards your ear- which is often- but somehow you find out that his name is Johnny.Â
His eyes are a bit wild- starting to make you a bit squeamish honestly, and just as youâre starting to look for a way out, there's a tap on your shoulder.Â
You mustâve lived a previous life as a saint to deserve the face youâre met with when your head turns towards the touch, earning a whine from Johnny.
âThis guy making you uncomfortable, love?â The stranger calls out with a blinding grin as his head bobs lightly in time with the DJâs set.
You nod and attempt to pry yourself away from Johnny, only to be caged against him by the man.Â
âHe does that,â the man laughs into your ear from behind, hips pressed into you and rocking as his hands finds your hips, right overtop Johnnyâs. his thumbs slip under Johnny's palms with a fond familiarity and squeeze gently. â-youâll get used to it. Nameâs Kyle, love.â
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You donât own fanfics. Theyâre inherently public domain because they arenât your IP. Agree or disagree with AI, there are no grounds for âprotectionâ from AI because it isnât your IP to begin with. Thatâs what you chose when you chose this medium
Oh dear.
Okay, you get an answer, because at least you took the effort to write your ask out properly, even if you are hiding behind the grey, sunglassed circle.
Do I, or any fanfic author for that matter, have any legal claims to our work? No, not really, no. (Although if someone took a fic, filed off the serial number--deleted the fandom specific elements--, and then had it published for financial gain, yeah, that would be a case.)
BUT
Fandoms are built on a social contract that says we respect each others work, the effort people put into their art. We don't steal or disrespect the work of our peers. By feeding people's fanworks to AI you both steal and disprect it, and we need to make people realize that before it's too late--before fandom falls apart, because there will be no more real, actual fanworks.
Disrepectfully,
Orlissa
(i can't believe I have to say this)
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URGENT HELP SAVE THE LIFE OF MY CHILD
Dear humanity,
Please Help Me â My Son May Die at Any Moment.
I'm Amal, a mother of three children, living under the weight of the genocide taking place in Gaza. đ
My son is suffering from a severe and life-threatening injury after being shot by Israeli drones. He urgently needs medical treatment outside Gaza.
Time is running out, and we are facing a critical situation. I am asking for your generosity to help us save him either through a donation or by sharing this urgent plea with others
I beg you, i kiss your feet, to help my son. My son may die at any moment
I lost most of my family. I'm afraid to lose my son too đ„ș
Mohammed deserves to live a happy and healthy life, just like every other child on this earth.
So I humbly ask you to donate even a little or at least reblog this appeal.
Please Donate now:đ
https://gofund.me/2f20a398
Ddonate Via Paypal đ
https://www.paypal.com/donate
!!!
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My LGBTQ+ Brothers and Sisters Save Me from the Bombing and Violence âYou Are My Only Hopeđ
My name is Nour, a 21-year-old woman from northern Gaza. My life was forever changed on October 7th, 2023, when the war forced me to flee my home. Now, I survive alone in a tent in southern Gaza, constantly surrounded by bombings, and even worse, the fear of being rejected and attacked for being a lesbian in a society that condemns me.
I am facing extreme shortages of food, water, and basic supplies, and every day has become a battle to stay alive. I turn to you because I have no one else left to turn to. The world around me seems indifferent to my suffering, and I am broken, exhausted, and desperately seeking safety and the chance to live authentically.
Please, your support is my only hope. It could help me escape this life of fear and give me the dignity I deserve. Every donation, no matter how small, offers a glimmer of hope for a better tomorrow.
Please reblog my post
Please Take Action NowâŒïž
GFM Donations Link Here đđ”đž
https://gofund.me/51b6c33c
!!!
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also just following up on this after my previous thoughts - if you see me accidentally supporting plagiarized work, please tell me!!
Itâs important to me that I support the actual creator and writer, so if you see me reposting anything plagiarized please message me and give me a heads up! Iâll appreciate it and you profusely!! đ«¶đ»đ«¶đ»
Plagarism. Again.
I'm not sure how old this person really is. Their blog says they're 22, but I think they might be much younger. But someone sent me a dm letting me know they stole my fic (as well as theirs), and when I reached out to them, they blocked me.
When I looked at their blog a little deeper, I realised almost all of their fics are stolen.
Do not engage with this person. Just make sure your work has not been stolen and block. They told someone else that the reason they took their fics was because of a "dare" and then told me they were going through a lot and just wanted to reblog my fic. Which is a blatant lie considering they then immediately blocked me and also tried to pass this off as their own by adding "if you dont like it go cry to mommy hoe also requested by vannthehacker910" and also changing my title.
mine:
a fic they stole from killsbil
and another they stole from mixes-archive
this is by sweet-as-an-angel
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Plagarism. Again.
I'm not sure how old this person really is. Their blog says they're 22, but I think they might be much younger. But someone sent me a dm letting me know they stole my fic (as well as theirs), and when I reached out to them, they blocked me.
When I looked at their blog a little deeper, I realised almost all of their fics are stolen.
Do not engage with this person. Just make sure your work has not been stolen and block. They told someone else that the reason they took their fics was because of a "dare" and then told me they were going through a lot and just wanted to reblog my fic. Which is a blatant lie considering they then immediately blocked me and also tried to pass this off as their own by adding "if you dont like it go cry to mommy hoe also requested by vannthehacker910" and also changing my title.
mine:
a fic they stole from killsbil
and another they stole from mixes-archive
this is by sweet-as-an-angel
#this is so sad :( I feel so bad for the original writers#I feel like there has been so much plagiarism going around recently and itâs just so disappointing and disheartening#especially to see some people who blatantly plagiarized act like the victim bc theyâre being called out for it#ugh itâs just so frustrating#sending all the love to the original creators whoâs stuff is being plagiarized đ«¶đ»đ«¶đ»
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Captainâs Girl [Part II]
John Price x Reader (Call of Duty)
Synopsis: Mixed tension combined with a failed mission leads to a heated kiss between you and the Captain. But what happens when kissing turns into something more? And will a new mission back in Urzikstan be the catalyst to bring you together or tear you and your captain apart?
Tags: Enemies to lovers, SMUT, guys I'm not joking I went crazy with the smut, military romance, secret feelings, pining, idiots in love, fighting, secret relationships, consequences, LONG.
Word count? Do you even need to ask?
.ă»ăăă»ăăă»ăăă»ïŒ.ă»ăăă»ăăă»ăăă»ïŒ
The helicopter ride back was abysmal, a whole 3 hours spent in absolute silence. You'd spent the majority of the time staring at your fraying shoelace. The subtle rocking of the aircraft kept you awake while everyone else slept off the rough morning (and the hangover). It turns out that drinking the night before being dispatched wasn't the best idea. Shocking.
It didn't help that your mind was still hung up on the kiss between you and Price. Also shocking.
In the past 24 hours, you discovered that there was a widespread rumor that you and your captain had been sleeping together. Everyone on base had started calling you the Captainâs Girl. And that Price didn't apparently hate you and thought that planting one on you was the best way to prove that.
Why he kissed you was an entirely new can of worms you didn't have the stomach to open right now.
Now, did you kiss him back? Yes. Why? You didn't know the fuck why. There were several possible answers to this dilemma, answer one, it was the heat of the moment. Answer two, it just felt right to do so, it's rude to leave a guy hanging. Answer three, you were just too shit-faced to think critically about it. You were leaning toward the last one.
The worst part of the whole situation, (besides the fact that you may have given those rumors a tiny bit of validity) was that Price was a phenomenal kisser. You remembered it in excruciating detail. And unlucky for you it might have been one of the best kisses you'd ever had.
A small part of you wondered if he enjoyed it too, but given his face when you separated. All flushed and surprised, his eyes wide with horror and his breath heavy⊠yeah maybe it was best not to dwell on your kissing abilities.
It was a small blessing that Gaz had been the one to almost catch you in the act. He loved to tease but he wasn't an asshole, your and Price's secret was most likely in good hands. Heaven forbid it was Ghost or Soap because you would've had half a mind to jump out of the helicopter without a second thought. The thought was still tempting though.
You glanced up at Price, his head tilted back and his eyes shut. He wasn't faring much better than you were. He had heavy bags under his eyes and the line between his brows was far more defined than usual. Somehow he still looked good. In a very professional way, of course. Not in a âwe made out last night, and thinking about it turns me on,â kind of way.
Eventually, you would have to interact with him professionally again. When his foot healed it would be back to regularly scheduled training.
Best case scenario, they'd put you all on leave and you could have a week or two surrounding yourself with other men to clear your head. You'd never really been one for an extended vacation, but exceptions could be made. Plus, going back to base meant going back to a whole bunch of people who thought you were banginâ the boss.
You grimaced, vacationing in hell might have been better. On second thought, you'd take the checkpoint base any day. Home base could go fuck itself, at least it was hot and sunny back in Urzikstan. You heard someone chuckle and looked up to see Ghost looking at you.
âYaâ look like you swallowed a lemon.â He said enthused. You made a sound that crossed between a sigh and a grunt.
âJust preparing myself for landing,â You breathed as the helicopter wobbled. The aircraft began to descend in a linear motion, making your stomach sink a little.
âHome sweet home.â
ËË°âą*ââ·
One week and three days, you had been back at base for almost two weeks without speaking a single word to Price. Maybe if you kept this up you could spend your last 8 months with 141 in peace.
Your days now had been mostly consisting of training (supervised by Ghost instead of Price), mindless tasks, eating in the commons, watching movies in the break room, and naps. It was kind of perfect, this was probably the most relaxed you'd ever been while at base. And nobody bothered to tease you over Price since he was rarely around. When he did make an appearance he didn't speak a word to you, which was somewhat nice.
A part of you wished for some explanation for the night of the kiss, but maybe ignorance was bliss. Whatever the reason, it was all behind you. You could totally remain professional when he comes back from recovery. Totally.
Gaz tried to talk to you about that night once, to which you immediately shut him down. Though, you knew he saw through you, and Price too, it was probably easier reading Price than you at this point. It was odd for Price to seclude himself away, even odder that he wasn't on speaking terms with you conveniently after the night that you tracked him down and blew up at him for starting a rumor that he most definitely did not create. Ghost had caught onto the odd tension between you two almost as fast as Gaz did.
Jhonny well⊠he was still in his own world, the man was smart sure, but he was a bit of a dunce when it came to reading other people's emotions. On the bright side that made him the perfect buddy to be around because he wasn't analyzing every interaction you had. You were grateful for him in his own way.
You were walking down one of the hallways after a bit of a loose end. Having nothing to do after training was a pain sometimes, you had an hour or two until dinner, and the base gym was at its busiest. And you didn't feel like you were in the mood to wait twenty minutes in a sweaty gym for a turn on the leg press machine. So, you opted for wandering around like a lost spirit in search of something to do instead.
Just as you turned a corner you collided with what felt like another wall. Your eyes met a 4x4 truck with a skull mask. Ghost.
âEasy, aren't sharpshooters supposed to be vigilant? Or are you the only exception?â His voice reverberated off your eardrums like a low-pitch bass. You rolled your eyes but let out an amused breath of air. To give the big guy some credit his name fits him perfectly, you didn't know how someone who was built like a standard Lego brick could be so stealthy. He could fit into any dark corner and nobody would be the wiser.
âJust you Ghost, you seem to be the only entity that evades me.â That seemed to pull a junction of his lips up because the corners of his eyes slightly crinkled. He held a small file filled with a few articles of paper tucked away into its folds.
Ghost crossed his arms, âWhat yaâ doinâ? Have you taken up wandering hallways as a hobby now?â
You grimaced, âGym was all full, didn't want to bother.â You said plainly, earning a nod from the bigger man.
âSo⊠suppose that means you're free for time?â There was a slight smugness to his tone as he held the file up to you. Your gaze dropped from him to the file, he didn't phrase it like an order but you knew it was. You sighed and took the file from his hand. âFine. Who do I have to track down to give this to?â
He shifted on one foot, âPrice. You know where his office is.â You tried not to let your mouth fall open, this bastard.
You shook your head and tried to thrust the papers back into his chest, âWhat? No, I'm not giving these to Price. Can't you find someone else?â
Ghost stepped back and shook his head, raising his hands up in surrender. âNope, sâoutta my hands now. Itâs one file, just knock on his door and drop it on his desk, easy.â You shot him a spiteful glare, there was probably an evil grin under that stupid mask.
You squeezed the file in your hands tighter, feeling the paper wrinkle in your vice grip. âBastard.â You grimaced, turning on your heel towards the direction of Price's office. You heard him chuckle over your shoulder, âGood soldier.â He called after you, the shit-eating grin practically spotlighted through his tone.
Trudging through the familiar hallways toward Price's office was like walking through a dead-end alleyway. The further you got, the more signs you saw telling you to turn back. Sure you saw him after the night of the kiss, but you weren't being forced to talk to him or even acknowledge he was there. This was different, you would be alone with him. Alone in his office. Even if it was for a split second that you were in his presence the knowledge still made your skin pebble with goosebumps.
Before you knew it, you were facing the dreaded door of his office. The sight of the familiar plaque of his name gives you an almost Deja Vu feeling. The last time you were here things didn't go over too well, not that things ever really went great when the two of you came in contact.
You drew in a breath, just get this over with and you could be done. Maybe go take a shower or something, just go anywhere that was a good distance away from here. Your fist met the hardwood of the door, giving it a hearty few knocks. After a beat, his muffled voice reached your ears, âCome in.â
Pushing open the door you were greeted with the sight of Price. Doing pushups in the corner of his office. Okay, I guess. You were a little dumbfounded, usually one uses an office for things like paperwork or meetings. Not a personal gym. âI thought the point of recovering was that you're supposed to be resting.â You deadpanned. The file in your hands long forgotten.
His head immediately snapped up at the sound of your voice, pools of blue staring right into you like you'd walked in naked. Price halted mid-pushup, â[Name].â He breathed, obviously caught a little off guard by your appearance.
âUnfortunately,â You said back, watching as he got up and brushed himself off. The cotton of his shirt stretched over the expanse of his biceps and chest. Your eyes shot back to his face, a little guilty. Price cleared his throat, âThey won't let me train in the gym yet. So, I have to improvise.â
You blinked at him, âBase doctor must love you.â You said sarcastically, glancing down at his foot. âHow's your foot?â You asked politely, filling the awkward silence.
Price looked down at his wrapped foot, shrugging. âIt's better. Don't need the crutch anymore.â He said plainly. You responded with a nod and an âah,â creating an even longer awkward silence. The two of you stood there for another beat, just looking at each other. You couldnât tell if you wanted to run to him or run away from him. Just then you remembered the whole reason why you were here.
âOh- uh, I have this for you-â You held out the manilla file for him to take, âGhost told me to bring it up here.â Price's eyes darted from the folder and then back to you, he hesitantly walked closer and took the file. His fingers brushed yours and you swear an electric current shot through your spine. His fingers were warm and rough, transporting you back to when his hands were in your hair, holding your face, cupping the back of your neck.
You swallowed, it felt like your heartbeat was in your head. âThank you.â He said, pulling back his hand and the papers with it.
It was like someone had knocked the wind out of you, you were frozen. ââŠRight, I'll go then.â You said, taking a step back from him as he put the file on top of his desk.
â[Name]. Hold on, please.â His voice stopped you in your tracks, making you rotate a little to face him completely. His voice didn't sound angry, but it was firm. âEverything alright?â You chewed on the inside of your cheek, watching as he faced you. Leaning against his desk with his arms crossed.
His adams apple bobbed up and down, lifting a hand to rub his mutton chops. âYeahâŠI just wanted to clear up something with you.â His voice was careful, the pauses and hesitance filling you with dread. Shit. He wanted to talk about the kiss, which you most definitely did not want to talk about. A part of you was dying inside but you nodded, âYeah, what's up?â You said through clenched teeth.
âAbout what happened the night before the team left Urzikstan, I just wanted to⊠apologize. It was unprofessional of me especially considering the circumstances.â You stood statue still, well this was a first. He was apologizing to you. Price continued, âIt was a moment of weakness and emotions were running high and frankly I didn't know how else to show you I didn't hate you. I give you my word that it will never happen again.â
A moment of weakness? What the hell was that even supposed to mean? It was nice to hear an apology come from him but to be honest, you weren't sure if you were happy about the fact he was sorry. Maybe that meant he didn't enjoy it, but it certainly didn't seem like it when his tongue was down your throat. Well, if you were already on the subject mind as well ask.
âDid you hate it?â You asked, Price looked at you for a moment. His face was puzzled like it was the last thing he had expected to come out of your mouth. âWhat?â He asked, his voice thick behind his British accent.
You stood your ground, âThe kiss-â you clarified. âDid. you. hate. it?â His eyes searched yours for an ounce of reasoning, âI- it was unprofessional and I shouldn't have initiated anything as your Captain-â
âThat wasn't my question.â You cut him off, your eyebrows furrowed together as your gaze bore into him. âI asked if you hated kissing me.â
Price shifted, leaning back a little against his desk. It was silent for a while, the sound of the wall clock and your beating heart was the only noise you could hear. âNo⊠I didn't hate it.â He said after another beat.
A small part of you soared, you could sleep at night knowing your kissing abilities weren't the cause of his skittishness. The next question slipped past your lips before you had the mind to stop yourself. âDo you regret it?â
Again his lips pulled into a frown and his eyes darted away, â[Name], I don't know why these questions are necessary.â But you weren't going to let him deflect you that easy, right now all thoughts of professionalism and integrity were out the window. You deserved an explanation, even if the logical side of your mind was telling you to leave. You stepped closer to him, so he couldn't ignore your presence.
âIt's necessary because you kissed me out of nowhere and I deserve an explanation.â You said defiantly, âSo do you or do you not regret it?â
He gave you an exasperated look before swallowing his pride. Pinching the bridge of his nose between his pointer and thumb, he spoke, âI regret kissing you at that moment, and how I went about it. But I don't regret kissing you, no.â
Priceâs cheeks turned a slightly rosy color that reached his ears. He looked like a guilty dog. You didn't know what surprised you more, the fact that he apologized or that he didn't regret kissing you. But his admission sparked a heat that crawled into your bones, burying into your stomach and coloring your cheeks similarly to his.
âThen just kiss me again.â
What came out of your mouth seemed to surprise you just as much as it did Price. He looked at you like you had grown a second head, âI'm sorry?â You felt your limbs lose feeling, fuck it, if you were going in mind as well go all in.
âI said what I said, if you regret how you went about kissing me last timeâŠmake it up now.â The silence that stretched over the two of you lasted for far longer than you were comfortable with. Price shook his head, seemingly coming back to reality. â[Name], I'm not kissing you.â He said pushing off the desk to stand at his full height.
You frowned, well shit. âWhy not?â You said, trying not to let the surprise and annoyance bleed through your tone.
He looked at you incredulously, âBecause we're in my fucking office and you're my subordinate.â Price said, gesturing around his office to further his argument. Jeez, you really hated this guy. He could at least throw you a bone after pulling a kiss on you out of nowhere.
âSo? You kissed me out in the open at the checkpoint base- and I was your subordinate then too.â You knew that he knew you had a good point there, âIf you don't want to kiss me or something you could've just said so.â You glared.
Price groaned and shook his head, rubbing his hand over the nape of his neck. âNo- I- fuck, of course I want to kiss you. But it's not appropriate, there are fraternization rules. Especially when it comes to me as your Captain.â
Aha! So he did want to kiss you, that at least was one more mystery solved. You craned your neck up to meet his eyes, your hands seizing his face. Cupping his scruffy cheeks between your palms. âRules only apply if you get caught. And you owe me a better apology.â You told him sternly.
Priceâs eyes were wide and his body tensed for a moment. Only to relax a moment later, the heat of his face could burn your skin. Your hands tingled as the pads of your fingers slid against the coarse scuff of his beard. His face hid something behind the mask of surprise, something that glinted in the pools of navy and grey. Everything about him looked so odd, so real.
Back at the checkpoint base, you didn't have time to look over his features or memorize them. You weren't able to watch the flicker in his eyes, something akin to a stalking wolf.
âOne kiss.â Price breathed.
âOne kiss.â You repeated back to him, trying not to let your voice quake.
That was all it took before his lips were slotted against yours, swallowing your breath and your mind with it. The kiss back at Urzikstan was rushed, desperate, quick. This. This was different. It was like a switch in your brain was flipped off, the mind-numbing static and the gentle rhythm of his lips replaced where your rational thought was supposed to be.
Large hands seized your waist, digging into your flesh. Slowly, the gentle probes of his mouth morphed into heavy kisses and heated groans. His mouth tasted the same as it did before, like smoke and whiskey. You doubted you'd ever forget the taste of him.
Your hands slid around his neck, and your dull nails dragged down his nape. Earning a throaty moan on his part, with each lick, groan, and movement of his lips, you only seemed to get sucked in further. Your senses were drowning in him, yet you only ached to go deeper. To let the water fill your lungs and cloud your brain.
Lips, tongue, teeth, you didn't know where it ended nor where it started. Hell, you didn't know what you were even doing. You didn't even realize you had moved until your behind hit the solid edge of his desk, making you retract for a sharp breath.
Price panted against your lips, still slick and kiss swollen. Neither of you did anything, standing still in the aftermath. The kiss said more than either of you could have ever put into words. Hands squeezed your hips, âOn the desk.â
You blinked, only somewhat coherent, âWhat?â Price lightly pushed you further, the back of your body being pressed against the hardwood. âYou heard me, sit on the desk.â His voice was rough and thick with his accent. It wasn't more of a request but a demand, and unlucky for you it made your knees weak.
Carefully you lifted yourself onto the flat surface, his body wedged between your open legs. The rough pads of his fingers grasping at your hips, and before you knew it you were kissing him again. It was addictive, he was addictive. This felt more like your fist kiss with him, the kisses became rougher, more rushed, and more desperate. Like trying to fill an endless void with his lips.
âI thought you said one kiss,â You managed to gasp out between open-mouthed kisses. You felt the pull of a smile on the corner of his lips before separating from you only to attach to your neck. Suckling at the skin and leaving trails of blooming redness in his wake.
âYou said you wanted a better apology right?â Price said, his voice vibrating against your collar. The texture of his beard against your skin sending full-body shivers down your spine.
You nodded, your hands reaching to his back to fist the material of his shirt. âYeah.â Your voice was breathy, it sounded almost foreign to you. Like you hadn't even spoken it. Hands dipped under your shirt, running up the soft skin of your ribs, mapping out your body. Price looked at you, something in his eyes was desperate, like a wild animal looking at their next meal.
âThen let me make it up to you. Please.â Fuck.
When had a man ever said that to you? And not any man but John fucking Price. A pulse drummed in your stomach that reached your core, here you were, sitting on your captain's desk with him in between your legs. Asking you to let him make it up to you. ReallyâŠwho were you to refuse when he asked so nicely? You swallowed and nodded, âOkay.â
With your confirmation, Price lifted your shirt above your head, hastily tossing it somewhere on the floor. His hands making quick work of your bra with it, the offending garment joining your shirt on the floor. He stood there momentarily, taking in the new expanse of revealed skin. Priceâs calloused hands glided over your abdomen, cupping your breasts and brushing a thumb over the hardened nipple.
You hissed, your spine curving at his touch. Priceâs hands were hard and warm, a stark contrast to the plush mound of your chest. âFuck, you're a vision you know that? So fucking pretty.â He breathed, his comments adding fuel to the fire between your legs. You couldn't remember the last time a man had called you anything near a âvision,â but damn it felt good. It felt good to be wanted.
Your thighs squeezed together, blocked by his frame standing between them. Every movement he made caused your hips to brush, sending shocks up your spine. And shit could you feel him, he was a large man but the size of the tent brushing against your clothed core was downright ridiculous. No wonder his ego was so big, you absentmindedly thought.
A finger hooked one of the loops of your standard-issue pants. Price was looking at you, âCan IâŠ?â He motioned down asking permission to discard the rest. To which you nodded, trying to hold back your eagerness. âYeah go ahead.â
Price helped you out from your pants, letting them drop to the floor with a dull thud. He groaned as he caught eye of your underwearâa very embarrassing and very obvious wet spot coating the fabric. Fuck-you didn't realize that was there. You'd been so caught up in his hands you'd barely felt it. He shot you a knowing look, the corner of his lip twitched up.
âAll this cause of me?â He asked smugly, circling a digit over the sodden fabric. You twitched, the contact making you bite down on your lip to keep from making a startled noise.
You glared at him, âDonât fucking tease me.â You said, the embarrassment in your tone disguised as venom. He grinned, prickâ you thought. Price guided a finger over your clothed slit, leaning into the crook of your neck. âNever baby, just want to make things right with you.â He murmured into your skin.
Price tugged the fabric to the side, letting your slick lubricate his fingers. You shuddered, your hands holding onto him for dear life. âFuck-â You choked out, your hips leaning into his hand. It felt infuriatingly good, the way his digit glided up and down your labia at a leisurely slow pace making you fein for more. He groaned as he watched you moan from the way he brushed his thumb over your clit.
âAtta girl, so good fâme.â
Oh.
You liked that. You'd never really paid attention to the gratification of someone praising you outside of an academic or professional level but at that moment you could tell that did something for you. And Price seemed to notice too.
He gently prodded at your entrance, earning a whine from your lips. âOne finger or two?â He muttered, you could barely think let alone answer his question. What you did know was that you need more, âTwo.â You said breathlessly.
A light chuckle reverberated off of him, âGreedy girl.â Price didn't wait and plunged two fingers into you slowly. You threw your head back as his thick digits stretched open the gummy walls of your core. ïżœïżœïżœFuck, look at you. So wet for me, so fucking sexy like this you know that?â You could only manage another choked whine as he mimicked the âcome hereâ motion with his fingers.
It was euphoric, the way he filled out your walls with his fingers alone. Slowly pressing the pads of his middle and ring up against the spongy spot inside you. You dug your nails into his shoulder, a silent scream fell from your lips. Priceâs other hand holding the small of your back to support you. âStay still,â He whispered into the shell of your ear, making you shudder.
You didn't listen, how could you? You could barely focus on what he was saying as it was, let alone when he was knuckle deep inside you.
When Price noticed you weren't listening he retracted his fingers, leaving you hollow. You whined, already craving the stretch of his fingers again. He rested his palm against your cunt, his digits barely tracing over your entrance. âCome on, I know you can listen, stay still for me yeah?â His voice vibrated against your neck and his beard brushed over the exposed skin. Making your body prickle with goosebumps.
âYou're an asshole you know that?â You panted, going rigidly still. He smiled against you, his fingers plunging back into your wet heat. âAnd you're all bark and no bite, fuckinâ vixen. Always looking at me when you know you shouldn't, driving me insane all the time. Stubborn girl.â
You threw your head back, trying hard not to let your hips twitch or jerk. Your mouth fell open to let out a lustful moan that would've made anyone in the near vicinity blush.
Price continued, âYou like driving me mad? Never fucking listening to me, arguing with me, riling me up.â He muttered, sliding his fingers in and out at a brutal pace. Making your cunt flutter, producing the most obscene sounds you ever heard from yourself. âThen you come in here all sexy asking me to kiss you. It's like you wanted this, wanted my fingers.â
You felt the burning fire in your core tighten and roar, âPrice- slow down. Mâgonna cum if you keep going.â You babbled, your nails leaving crescents on his bicep. Everything was happening so fast you couldn't keep track of what was going on.
Priceâs fingers were rough, thick, they filled out the lining of your walls with ease. A thick fog started to cloud your mind, making the world almost blur. In. Out. In. Out. It was maddening, he wasnât slowing and you were only growing more feverish.
He shook his head, his other hand leaving your hip to grab your chin. Forcing you to look into his eyes, an animalistic hunger written over his face. âNo, you're going to cum on my fingers. Look at me while you do it, look at me while you soak my hand.â Priceâs thumb circled over your clit, making you clench and pulse. A full-body shudder racking through you.
You came suddenly, unexpectedly. It was hard and fast, but in a way, it was like you were floating. Your muscles went rigid, your back curving, and your startled moan bounced off the walls of the office. It came in waves, crashing over you like the tide as he finger-fucked you through the orgasm. All the while staring directly into those familiar pools of blue and navy. Your pussy spasmed around his fingers.
After a minute you fell limp, like you'd just run miles, you panted. Hair falling in your face and wetness coating both his fingers and your inner thighs, the juices pooling onto the dark wood of the table. Price held your waist with one hand, letting you slump against his chest. It was peaceful bliss for a moment.
You caught your breath enough to sit up, meeting his gaze. His hand that held your waist moved to brush a few stray hairs falling over your eyes. The corners of Priceâs lips pulled into a smile, and your heart stuttered, only a little though. âHave I made it up to you yet?â He murmured, the thickness of his voice could have melted your ears. Smooth like syrup but rugged enough to be devastatingly masculine.
âApology accepted.â You breathed, trying not to sound too winded. It was too late to form any semblance of decency so the next best option was pretending he didn't single-handily give you the most toe-curling orgasm of your life. Easier said than done.
Price detached from you, walking over to one of his office drawers and pulling out a box of tissues. âNormally I'd have something better to clean you up with but these will do for now.â He said casually, pulling a few from the box and coaxing your legs back open to wipe down the mess. Somehow, you felt a blush spread across your cheeks.
This was so...domestic, sweet even, it wasn't like him. Then again, fingering you on his desk wasn't like him either but here you were. You both had crossed a line and there wasn't any going back, you swallowed. âThanks, but uhmâŠwhat do we do now?â Frankly, it was a dumb question but you couldn't help asking.
He gave you a look, âWhat do you mean?â You squirmed under his gaze, trying not to look down at his warm hand brushing up against your inner thigh.
âWell, we can't exactly pretend like this didn't happen.â You clarified, watching as the wheels in his head turned. Price shrugged, âWe can leave it at this if that's what you want. I think both of us are just on edge, yâknow, the heat of the moment.â
Somehow his words didn't match his face, there was more that seemed to bellow beneath his tone. But rather than bringing it up, you thought about his words. This wasn't ever something you anticipated to happen but to your surprise, you didn't hate it. âWhat if we just kept it going?â
Price looked at you, his eyes widened a tad, the surprise written across his face doing more for your nerves than you were comfortable with. âLike- in the sense that you and I both have a lot of built-up tension and unresolved issues. But if this works to keep the peace why not give it a try? Discreetly of course.â
It was a beat before he responded, âAlright, but like you said, discreet. If anyone catches on this is done.â
You soared, why? You didn't know, it just felt like the best news you'd gotten in forever. But looking too deeply into that feeling was uncharted territory. Better off leaving it in the corner of your brain with all the other repressed emotions.
âWorks for me.â You agreed, Price got up again to grab your poor clothes that had been flung across the room. Handing them back gingerly, he was nice enough to turn around as you reclothed yourself. There was a slight charge to the air, almost like static. It pricked at your skin, making you jumpy and nearly insecure. It was like you had reverted to a teenage girl.
He caught your gaze, and the unspoken tension and lingering awkwardness faded just a little. He gave you a nod, âI'll see you tomorrow for drills.â
You smiled just slightly, âSee you.â Walking to the door and turning the handle, you forced yourself not to look back at him.
After shutting the door you breathed a sigh, brushing out your clothes and smoothing your hair of the lingering frizz. Getting cozy with your captain was not on your yearly bingo card, but hey, beggars couldn't be choosers. You absentmindedly thought about the implications of technically giving that stupid rumor some validity. But you were only human, a girl has to do what she has to do to get laid.
Discreetly, of course, you were great about being discreet. Yeah, easy peasy. All you had to do was make sure nobody found out.
ËË°âą*ââ·
At first, you didn't really know what to expect when you first made the arrangement with Price about âsolving the unresolved problems between the two of you.â But after a few weeks of working out frustrations âonâ each other, you could say with full confidence that this arrangement exceeded your expectations.
Not only had the genuine fights between you been on an extended hiatus, but it started to be replaced with playful banter. And when you weren't bantering or training or hanging out with the group, you were fucking. And boy was it something.
For one, Price was experienced, to say the least, he knew what to do and when to do it. He had mapped out your body and played it like a fiddle. And with your extent of mediocre lovers, it was like a breath of fresh air. And his body was nothing to sneeze at either, he had muscle allll the way down. Battle scars be dammed, everything just seemed to make him more appealing.
The only troubling part of the arrangement was keeping up the ruse and getting creative when it came to the actual action portion of it. But turns out that unconventional areas to have sex weren't as bad as they seemed. Office? Hell yeah. In the medical wing private rooms? Why not. In the showers and bathrooms? You only live once.
Unintentionally getting laid was also fixing your mood. Who knew an orgasm was a great way to fix an attitude problem? Well, at least most of your attitude problems.
You were outside running the trail that weaved its way around the base, at least once or twice a week Price would make you and the team run until you thought you would pass out. Something about endurance training. Running wasn't the worst thing but the harsh trail and uneven ground that zigzagged and dipped made you want to tear your hair out.
Your breath came out in small puffs, the cold air around you doing little to soothe the hot ache of your muscles. Your baby hairs stuck to your forehead and by the looks of it, you still had a few more miles left.
Jhonny ran beside you, his heavy breaths synchronous with yours. Up ahead was Gaz and Price and a few inches behind you was Ghost acting as caboose. You watched them run in front of you like you were studying a Peloton ad. Seriously, how the hell had they barely broken a sweat yet?? It was downright annoying how athletic they were.
âI swear, neither of them are human. Price just got cleared to run a week ago and he looks like he's having the time of his life.â You said between pants, next to you Soap laughed.
âCanât say I disagree with yaâ there Bonnie, think he just does it for show at this point.â He said, his voice equally hoarse. From behind you, Ghost chimed in, âMaybe if you two stopped talking you'd actually catch up to them by now.â
You shot Ghost a glance over your shoulder, âPeople in glass houses.â You quipped, considering he was the caboose it was a little ironic. Not by much but still.
Soap grinned, âSheâs right ain't she L.T.? Say, how's the arse of the train treating you? Got a nice view?â
Your laugh hurt, the air felt so thin but the pit of your stomach warmed. Talking while running (especially laughing) wasn't the smartest, but it was a distraction. Ghost swatted at the back of Soapâs head, cutting his laugh short.
From up ahead Price turned his head to look at you and Soap. âTwo miles left, Iâd suggest you save your stamina. If you fall behind on time you run extra.â He deadpanned. His voice barely sounded tired, the nerve.
You grimaced, âI think Iâd prefer one of your medieval torture methods than running any longer.â Despite what you thought was an amusing comment Price didn't look enthused.
âThat was a nice way of telling you and Jhonny to shut up, am I clear?â He said sternly, you held in your groan. Hookup buddy or not, Price was still annoying. âClear.â You and Soap said in unison.
The rest of the path was spent in lingering silence. And by the time you reached base, you felt like you had one foot in the grave. You hunched over, your hands on your knees as you took in as many breaths as you could without it hurting. Had the air always been this thin?
Price was a few feet ahead, hands on his hips as he cooled off. His hair was slightly messy and his body glistened with a thin layer of sweat. He reached for his shirt and pulled it up to wipe his face, exposing the hard muscle and his happy trail. Dear lord. You watched him like a hawk, zeroing in on his abs as they expanded and decompressed with each breath.
He glanced your way, you were incredibly obvious so it was no surprise how his eyebrow twitched up and his lips pulled into a wry smile. âI did tell you to save your energy.â He commented quite smugly, referencing your current state.
You snapped out of the trance his abs had put you in, leaning back up and darting your eyes away. âIâm fine, just catching my breath. And for the record that felt way longer than normal, at this point, you just like to watch the team suffer.â
Price chuckled, crossing his arms. âWell someoneâs bitter. But look, you did it and you came out fine. It's a win-win.â
You glared at him, unimpressed. âSure, you work me like a dog until I inevitably die of overexertion and I get a paycheck in the mail that I'll never be able to spend because I'm dead. Win-win.â You said sarcastically. Price's lips tugged up, his mutton chops creating an almost teddy bear-like effect.
The corners of his eyes slightly crinkled, âMaybe you should've taken up drama instead of Military. Might fit you better.â
Your lips pursed into a line, Price was quick witted, but way too full of himself. It was a good thing you were there to keep his ego in line, you liked to think of yourself almost as the balancing act of the team. After all, there could only be so many cooks in the kitchen before things got rocky. âGood thing they donât pay you for jokes.â You said, finally gaining back your breath.
Just as Price opened his mouth to give what was most likely a poor rebuttal a large hand patted your shoulder.
â[Name], pub tonight yeah?â It was Gaz. His beaming face almost made you squint. You took a minute to process his words, you were rarely one to inhabit the pubs on the outskirts of the base. But a brief memory of him and Jhonny asking you to go from earlier that morning cleared up your memory fog.
You cleared your throat and nodded, âYeah- wouldn't miss it.â You said through your teeth. Gaz looked forward to Price, âYou tagging along Price?â
You looked back at Price too, curious. He stood there a moment before sighing, rubbing the back of his neck. âGuess I will. Someone's got to keep the lot of yaâ in check.â Your spirit plummeted, the last time you were drunk in front of Price you started cursing at him like a drunken sailor. And you started kissing him in broadâŠdaylight? Nightlight? Whatever. The point was, that you had zero self-control when you drank.
Heck, you barely had any self-control when it came to Price. You were on him any chance you got, and mixing two of your greatest temptations just sounded like a recipe for disaster.
Gaz smiled, ruffling your sweaty hair. âGreat! Weâll leave after dinner, Price you're designated driver.â You forced yourself to smile back, giving a weak excuse for an âexcitedâ laugh.
âGreat.â You said through your teeth, giving an enthusiastic thumbs up. Price gave him a nod as he walked off towards Soap and Ghost.
âCanât wait.â You breathed to yourself.
Game plan: Don't drink and avoid Price at all costs. Simple enough. After all, it was just a pub, how bad could it be?
ËË°âą*ââ·
Spoiler Alert: Bad. It could be bad.
In the first thirty minutes of being at the shabby pub, you'd broken your first rule by getting roped into a drinking game with Jhonny. Not the smartest of decisions by far that you made. But it did take off the edge, now the orange lighting and the peeling paint on the walls seemed quaint instead of creepy.
The warmth in your stomach buzzed with a low frequency that made you giddy. And you hadn't paid for any of your drinks courtesy of Jhonny. Things may have been turning out for the better if you stayed on your A game. But unsurprisingly you failed to do so.
You sat on one of the barstools, a classic marg in hand with the salted rim and fancy lime slice on the glass. Ghost was sitting next to you while you both watched Jhonny trying to sweet-talk some poor girl from across the bar. Price sat a few chairs down next to Gaz, wrapped up in a conversation with the old bartender. Slowly, you felt yourself getting cozy.
And you were drunk enough that you merely hummed along with the maroon 5 reruns that played in the background.
âI got fifteen on the girl slappinâ him by the end of the night.â Ghost said as you watched the scene unfold.
You couldn't help but let an unabashed giggle slip from your lips. âHonestly I can't tell if she wants to take him home or take him to the local station for harassment charges.â Ghost grunted in agreement.
The girl gingerly took another sip of her drink as Soap talked to (at) her. Earning another hearty laugh from both You and Ghost. After another minute of people-watching Ghost patted the bar table, fishing a pack from inside of his cargo pocket. âAlright, Iâm taking fiveâ I'll be outside.â He said as he got up.
You frowned but nodded, your gossip buddy was gone which was annoying. But instead of dwelling on it, you took another sip of your marg. The tequila burned your throat in a sickly sweet way, it wasn't the best drink you'd ever had but it did the job. Mid-drink you felt someone else walk up behind you, without warning someone slid into the empty stool next to you.
âThis seat taken?â You didn't recognize the voice, it was masculine but it didn't sound like any of the guys. You looked to your side, it was a guy. He looked to be taller, with pale skin, sandy brown hair, and dark eyes. He wasn't about to be on a magazine cover but he definitely wasn't hard to look at.
You didn't quite know what to say, âuhâŠyeah, I suppose by you.â It was a lame response but he did kinda already sit himself down.
He smiled, white teeth, a little crooked but nobody's perfect. He had a good jaw, not clean-shaven but it made him look a bit more approachable. âThatâs good to hear,â he was holding a drink, a gin-and-coke by the looks of it. âI saw you and your friend playing that drinking game earlier, pretty impressive, didn't think you'd be able to keep up.â
You gave a bit of an awkward laugh, unsure of what to make of the situation. But friendly conversation wasn't off the table, and the mystery man seemed nice enough. âYeah, I guess I did, thanks. You uh- you done anything like that before?â
Mystery man shook his head, âNo I can't hold my ale. I prefer to let the professionals handle that.â You laughed, finding the comment a little ridiculous.
âIâd hardly call myself a professional.â You replied, taking another sip of your drink. His eyes dipped down to your lips, watching as you raised the glass to your mouth and swallowed. But, they quickly averted back to your eyes.
âI don't know, I would hardly classify you as intermediate. I would buy you a drink but I'm not sure that much to drink in one night is healthy.â He said smoothly, leaning one elbow against the counter.
Buy you a drink? Okay, maybe a bit too friendly. But maybe he was just being nice, people buy strangers drinks all the time. You nodded, âOh that's nice of you. Yeah, I'd say after this Iâll call it quits.â You said, raising your marg.
He hummed and nodded, licking his lips. âHopefully you're not too drunk, right?â Something about his tone you didn't like, it was like he was teasing you.
You averted your eyes, âUh hopefully not. Just buzzed for now, Iâll probably feel the brunt of it later.â You laughed awkwardly.
âDid you drive here yourself?â Okay, what was with all the questions? You weren't sure if that was a courteous thing to ask or just downright nosy.
You shook your head, âNo someone drove me.â You said simply, keeping it short and sweet. Maybe then he'd get the vibes you were putting off. He hummed, his eyes drilling into you like one of those toy lasers.
âAre you going home with anyone?â He asked, you almost choked on your drink. What was with this guy? How did you go from drinking the game two seconds ago to this??
He cut you off before you had the chance to say anything, âBecause if not, Iâd be willing to drive you back. Free of charge, of course.â
Free of charge my ass.
The actual charge probably consisted of a blow job in the back seat of his Toyota Corolla. Or white van, you were still figuring out the vibes on this guy.
You were stunned to speak, absolutely dumbfounded by the lack of social cues. It was like walking into the shallow end of a pool only to step into eight feet of water. To make it worse he reached forward, brushing a stray piece of hair out of your face. âCome on, don't leave me hanging. What do you say?â
Pound!â
Something hard hit the counter, making both your drinks wobble. You swiveled your head towards the noise, and low and behold your second greatest desire now stood between you and the mystery guy. Price.
His fist on the counter cut the conversation short as well as all the noise around him. Creating an oh-so-silent bar. The mystery man retracted his hand like he'd been scorched by an open flame. Looking up at Price with a bewildered expression, âWhat the fuck man?â He asked with a furrowed brow.
Price looked down at him, his expression unmoving. âApologies, but I think it's time you go bother another person. Particularly one that isn't a part of my team.â
Whatever thoughts of arguing that the mystery man had immediately died as Price crossed his arms, puffing himself out like a bird when ruffling its feathers. You looked at both of them incredulously, sure you were glad Price came to the rescue but you could've handled it yourself. You didn't need him to come barreling through like a charging rhino to handle something you didn't even ask him to do.
You looked around to see everyone's heads turned in your direction, looking between Price and the other guy. Suddenly the alcohol in your stomach turned sour, and you felt your cheeks grow hot from the unwanted attention.
âJeez, look I wasn't looking for any trouble. I didn't know she had a man, my bad.â He said, holding his hands up in surrender. Price didn't budge, guarding you like a stone wall. âThen off you go.â He said sternly.
The mystery guy nodded, sliding out from the barstool and walking past you and back to the table where he came from. The pub started to go back to normal, people picking up where they left off. Price turned back to you, his posture deflating a little. He looked down at you, and from the way you were looking back at him, he immediately knew something was amiss. âWhat?â He asked.
Your eyebrows slid lower on your face, your lips pursing into a tight frown. âWhat do you mean âwhat?â What the fuck was that?â You whisper shouted at him, your cheeks still burning with embarrassment.
Price looked at you like you were crazy, a frown on his lips. âThe bloke was touching you, you think I'm just going to stand by and let him paw at you?â He asked defensively.
Oh please. He barely even touched your face. It wasnât great, but, it didnât warrant Price making a whole spectacle. Especially not in front of the team, let alone a group of spectators. You looked back at Gaz, who was staring directly at you, then at Jhonny, who went back to talking to the girl.
âCan we talk about this somewhere else?â You signed, not wanting to be in earshot of Gaz who was most definitely eavesdropping. Friend or not, he couldn't know any more than he already did, the bastard was perceptive enough as it was.
Price glanced at Gaz and then back to you, his jaw working with tension. âFine.â He huffed, you were a bit taken aback by the irritability in his tone. Why was he so mad now? He was the one who caused the scene. Nonetheless, you slipped out of the bar and followed Price as he stormed off.
You weaved through tables and people, trying your best to squeeze by without knocking into anything. Price walked into an emptier hallway that led to the restrooms. It was one of those creepy hallways with no overhead lights and weird pictures strung across the walls. You eyed the peeling wallpaper, it was like you'd stepped into a time capsule. Warm light poured from the main area of the bar, casting an orange hue against you and Price that was cut off by shadows.
He turned back to you, the furrow in his brow knitting the skin in between. He looked sexy. The thought popped into your mind before you had the sense to block it out. While very true you had to stand your ground. A hot man and some liquor in your system would not sway your resolve. (Maybe it could sway it a little.) focus!
âWhat was that? You charging up to that guy and slamming your fist on the counter.â You asked folding your arms over your chest.
Price leaned against the opposite wall, facing you. âI didn't charge up to him, I simply made it clear that he crossed a line.â He said defiantly. You raised a brow, unsure of what to make of the blanket statement.
âWhat line?â You asked, to which Price scoffed.
âHe tucked a piece of hair behind your ear, and don't think I didn't hear the way he was interrogating you. Come off it [Name], I know you're not stupid, you could see clear as I could what that fucker wanted.â He spat.
You exhaled, either the liquor was catching up to you or it was starting to get hot. âWell yeah, but he barely did anything, and that hardly warranted you taking matters into your own hands.â You defended, â-I could have just told him to fuck off or something. I didn't need you charging in like a bull and letting the entire bar know.â
You watched Priceâs hand bawl into a fist, flexing the strain in his neck as he glared down at you. âWhat else was I supposed to do? Politely ask him to leave? When he's got his dirty hands on you like that-â He groaned, wiping his face with one hand.
âI'm not defenseless, I don't need you to rescue me.â You retorted, your hands holding your arms tighter to your chest.
Price rolled his eyes, âI know that. Donât get smart with me.â He said pointing a finger your way, his mouth curling into a small snarl. âYou don't get it, watching him practically undressing you with his eyes. It was fucking aggravating to watch- the way he looked at you.â
You were a bit surprised that he caught on to that, but you didn't feel like he was undressing you with his eyes per se. More like just intently staring, you pushed his accusatory finger down. âYou're exaggerating, and you don't even know what he was thinking.â You tried to reason.
Price looked at you with a glare that wouldâve made anyone else back down. But you didn't, as Jhonny once commented, you had the rather: âFucking idiotic tendency to never be scared of Price.â What could you say? You liked a challenge.
He took a step forward, making you take one back. Your back hit the wall of the hallway. Like a caged animal, you were trapped. âI know exactly what he's thinking.â Price snarled, he grabbed your face. The rough pads of his fingers pressed into your hollow cheeks, his hand was so big it dwarfed your lower jaw.
â-Because I fucking think of the exact same things when I look at you.â His voice was harsh and low, sending ripples through your spine like shock waves. Priceâs hand forced your face up so it was locked dead onto his, making you look into his eyes shadowed by the darkness. Flecks of light caught on his face, against his beard and jaw. If anyone were to walk into the hallway, it may have looked like Price was about to devour you like a starving carnivore.
You shuddered, he was so close it was driving your senses crazy. You could smell him, taste the venom in his voice, and God did it turn you on. You wanted more, you wanted to push his buttons. It felt good to drive him to the point of fury, to watch him slowly lose his composure. Years of hard discipline and mental strength all crumbling within minutes, and you wanted to watch.
âI donât care if every man on the planet looks at me that way. I'm not yours, you don't get to put a claim on me. And you sure as hell don't get to make a scene in front of the entire bar and the team.â You spat back. Like an open flame, the wildfire between you and Price only seemed to burn brighter, faster, harder.
â-And what happened to being discrete huh? Last time I checked, scaring off any guy who looks in my direction isn't discrete.â You pried.
Price scowled down at you, his breathing starting to grow more labored. His hand clenched your face more forcefully, not enough to hurt but enough that you couldn't move. âYou're right. You don't belong to me, but I am still your Captain, and you answer to me. Not to Gaz, or Jhonny, or Ghost. Not to some stupid prick who just wants a quick fuck. Me.â
Price was slowly getting angrier, to be honest, you rarely saw him this pissed. But deep down, it kind of did something to you. Knowing that you were the cause of his anger.
It was an ache that settled deep within your bones, making your blood coarse red hot. Maybe it was the adrenaline, or maybe it was something more. Either way, you didn't care, you just needed to feel the satisfaction of breaking his ressolve. Stripping him of every facet that made him a man and revealing the primitive monster that lied underneath.
Your eyes narrowed into slits, âFuck you Price.â
There was a beat of silence that stretched for far too long. It was so quiet you could almost feel the way your heart hammered in your chest. You made hard eye contact with him, watching the way his eyes widened and how his irises scanned over the expanse of your face.
âFuck me?â He spoke, his voice hard and breathy. His hand forced your face up, straining the muscles in your neck. The back of your head was pressed into the hard wall with firm pressure. And to your surprise, the corner of his lip turned up into an amused smile. âFuck me huh?â He repeated, and as suddenly as it appeared, his smile dropped.
âFuck you.â He spat, surging forward into a clash of tongue, teeth, and lips. You quickly grabbed at his head, twisting your fingers through his hair. Your arms wrapped around him like a constricting snake.
The kiss was so rough you didn't even know if it could be classified as a kiss really. His body practically slammed into you, pinning you to the wall like a fly caught in a spider's web. One of his hands still clutched your face while the other was pressed flat into the wall beside your head. You heard one of the pictures that was hung on the wall next to you clatter to the ground. Everything seemed to fade into the background, all that mattered was the man who was currently pinning you to the wall.
Price was kissing you like a man starved. You forgot where you were, what you were doing, and why you felt so angry in the first place.
You distantly felt his hands move down to roughly cup your ass and then the back of your thighs. Price hoisted you up, trapping you between the wall and himself. Your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist, grinding your hips against his. You groaned as you felt his tented pants against your clothed core, he was hard as a rock.
Your hands raked down the expanse of his back, fisting the soft cotton of his shirt between your fingers. Price took a few steps back, holding you to his chest still. His back hit the other wall with a thud, making the other pictures rattle. He kept maneuvering around like a blind man until his back hit the door to one of the bathrooms. It gave way to his weight, swinging backward.
âPrice what-â Your words were cut off by another open-mouthed kiss. You returned it just as eagerly, maybe asking what he was doing could wait another minute. Priceâs back hit the door again, one of his hands scrambling for the lock. He carried you across the empty bathroom, bouncing off the walls and counters as you went.
He managed to open the door to the last stall tucked away in the corner. Slamming against the stall you kissed him like an animal, clawing at his back and rolling your hips into his.
After another minute you pulled away for a breath, panting like you'd just swam up for air. His breath fanned your lips, thick with his taste and your mixed spit. The dingy bathroom was poorly lit, casting everything inside it in a dark light. You swallowed, âWhat are we doing in here?â You panted.
Priceâs hands squeezed your ass, âMaking sure nobody else can see what I'm about to do to you.â His voice was heavy and thick, like molasses sugar. The richness of it clouded your senses, making you loopy. Without warning he pulled you off him, setting you down on your feet with a hand tangled in your hair.
âOn the ground.â He spoke, more of a command than anything.
You blinked, either it was the round of drinks or just his effect on you but the words barely processed. âWhat?â You breathed, your eyebrows knitting together.
Price gave your head a sharp yank, a surprised gasp slipping past your lips. His thick digits curled around your hair tighter, pulling your scalp taunt. âI said on the ground, I know you can listen to me.â He said, his voice was rough now, scratching against your eardrums like sandpaper. You knew you were in far too deep to back out now. (Not that you wanted to). So, you obeyed, much like an animal self domesticating itself to survive.
Your knees pressed into the cool, hard tile. Price still held your hair, craning your neck up to look him in the eyes. You saw it, the small restraint he always held, like a second face he wore around everyone else- it was gone. There was pure, unabashed want in his eyes. You felt your lungs deflate, the breath leaving your body. Hands that held his thighs dug into his jeans, an unspoken message that screamed âgo.â
The adams apple in his throat bobbed, and Priceâs other hand migrated to his belt. Gradually he unclasped the silver belt buckle, âYouâre a smart girl [Name]. I know you didn't just say all of that before causeâ you wanted to prove a point to me.â He spoke, sliding the leather band open and pushing the top button of his pants through the slit. â-I know you're not that fucking stupid. So tell meâŠwhy did you? Just to get under my skin? To rile me up?â
Your throat ran dry, eyes glued to his fingers as they slid down the zipper. Preening to watch the way his boxers spilled out of the narrow opening. Price yanked your head back again with a sharp yelp on your part.
âLook at me. Not my cock, you'll have plenty of time to look at it later.â He breathed, pools of navy boring in your eyes. His pupils dilated, the soft red that colored his cheeks and ears doing little to soothe the roaring flame that burned between your legs.
You were at a loss for words, to be honest, you weren't completely sure why either. A sense of curiosity? It was hard to put into speech, âIâŠI wanted to see what you'd do.â You answered, making his eyebrow twitch up.
âThats all? Not because you have a fascination with me? With fucking with my goddamn head. You don't like driving me insane?â He spat, palming a hand over himself. Your eyes flicked down, watching the fabric of his briefs stretch over the bulge.
You swallowed, looking at him tentatively. âI wanted to see the real you. Not the front, not the put-together Captain. You.â
A silence hung in the air, one that casted a thick layer of tension between you. Priceâs lips turned upwards, a darkly amused chuckle echoing through the empty bathroom. âYou already had me, baby.â He reached his hand into his briefs, pulling out his thick cock. He groaned, rubbing his hand up and down his appendage, âFucking temptress that's what you are. You want me to not hold back, is that it? To fuck you stupid?â
You couldn't take your eyes off him even if you'd wanted to. No matter how many times you saw his dick it never got old, all you could do was marvel at it. He was big, and more importantly, he was thick. You watched his hand stroke the peachy skin, watching the heaviness of its girth and the reddened mushroom tip that beaded with milky pre-cum.
Price laughed, eyeing the way you looked at him like a starving animal. âThis what you wanted? What all the fuss was about?â You couldn't help but nod, wetting your lips just at the sight. â-Tell me you want it. That you want me to fuck your throat raw.â He spoke, Price held himself just out of reach. Like a cat with a feathery toy, you were completely entranced.
You nodded, âPrice fuck my throat.â The words sounded so odd coming from your mouth, so raw and crude it almost surprised you.
Price gave your head a small tug, a satisfactory grin on his face. He looked down at you, nodding his head to you as if to say âGo ahead.â You could barely contain yourself as your hands slid around his cock, feeling the burn of hot skin beneath your palms. He was so thick your one hand almost couldn't wrap around his girth, two hands would have to do the job.
The weight of his length felt good, oh yeah, and not to mention that he was harder than a metal pole. Hastily you wrapped your lips around the head of his cock, swirling your tongue over the bulbous tip.
Priceâs head fell back against the stall door, his hips twitched forward. A hearty groan fell from his parted lips. The hand in your hair gave you an encouraging squeeze. You hummed, letting the vibrations from your voice reverberate off his dick. He tasted like skin, musky and salty, leaving an earthy kind of aftertaste that clung to your tongue like syrup.
You separated with a lewd âpop, watching the muscles in Priceâs neck strain. Dipping your head you licked a stripe up his cock, coating the length in a thin layer of spit. One hand stroked him up and down while the other dug into his thigh, leaving small crescents into the fabric of his pants. Beads of pre-cum spilled out from the small slit of his tip, you let your thumb swipe over the head generously lubing up his base.
Priceâs hands tightened in your hair, âFuck- that's it. Just like that pretty girl.â He panted, earning a pleased hum from your lips.
Without warning you took his cock back into your mouth, sinking down the furthest you could without gagging. The gummy walls of your throat tightened around the foreign object, accompanied by a wet gulping noise. You inhaled through your nostrils, trying your best to take him further.
Price cursed loudly, the sound of his voice bouncing across the tile walls. His cock twitched in your mouth. You moved your head down then forward, repeating the motion until you found a steady rhythm of bobbing down on his dick. What your mouth couldn't reach your hand made up for, squeezing and stroking faster and faster. He was so wound up you could practically feel the tension under his skin.
You pulled off of him, your mouth agape as you panted. Spit and other fluid gleamed against your lips like a gloss. Price looked down at you, confusion written across his face with a tad of concern.
âAre you okay?â He said through heavy breaths, to which you nodded. However, you shot him a stern look.
âYou're holding back.â You panted, staring at him with a knowing glare. Price looked at you, unsure of how to respond to your accusatory tone. â-I said-Fuck. My. Throat.â
His face hardened, and the same animalistic gleam came back. âFine. You want me to let go? I can let go.â
That was all it took before his hand wrapped around your hair like a rope. Pushing you down his cock inch by fucking inch. He moaned through his teeth, âFuck- you know what to do if it gets to be too much.â He said breathlessly. It was true, you did know you always had an out, but this was way more fun.
Your jaw went slack to accommodate him, the stretch of him down your throat sending full-body shivers down your spine. Then he started to move. Your hands found his thighs, digging your nails into his pants.
Price made good on his promise, fucking your throat like it was his lifeâs goal. The tip of his cock hit the back of your throat making you almost gag, hot tears stung your eyes. It was rough and desperate, he used your throat like he hated your guts. And you couldn't help but love every second of it, you managed to crack him. The hard shell he kept, and the walls he built up, were slowly crumbling down.
Then, as quickly as he pushed you down he pulled you off of him. You sucked in a desperate breath, making a small noise of confusion. You stared at Price with a quizzical look, one that bordered on âwtf??â
Price looked wrecked, his hair tussled and cheeks tinged red. Small beads of sweat trickled down his temples, but he smiled. âI'm sorry baby, did you want me to keep going?â He exhaled, an almost pitying aspect to his tone. The hand in your hair slid down to cup your chin, a rough thumb swiping over your puffy bottom lip.
âWhyâd you stop?â You frowned up at him, and try as you might the disappointment in your voice was clear as day.
Price cupped your jaw, forcing your head back further. âBecause as much as I love your mouth, I would much rather cum in that beautiful cunt of yours.â
You tried not to choke, refusing to give him the satisfaction that his words sent whole body shivers through you. But, it did sound heavenly, so you nodded and let him help you to your feet again. From there he guided you up against the stall, your palms flat on the cool door.
Priceâs chest went flush with your back, his face tucked into where your shoulder met your neck. His hot breath fanned against you and the hairs of his scruff tickled your skin. Thick hands found your hips, sliding to your crotch to unzip your pants. You tried not to let your breath hitch as he palmed a hand over your clothed cunt.
âJesus- this wet for me already? Haven't even touched you yet, but here you are, soaking your panties like a slag.â Price murmured into your nape, and even though you couldn't see it, you could feel his smirk.
You bit down on your cheek, âBig talk from someone who could barely keep it together while getting a simple blowy.â Your pants slid down and a sharp blow was delivered to your behind. You yelped, caught off guard by the harsh slap.
âCareful.â He murmured, his voice reverberating off the shell of your ear. Your eyes stung with tears as the burning sting of his mark cooled into a low ache. â-We don't have a whole day for you to think of a good comeback before someone comes knocking on that door. So Iâd try to cooperate unless you want me to leave you high and dry. Which I'm perfectly fine with doing.â
Liar. He was bluffing, but Price was just as stubborn as you were and would most definitely make you wait an unseemly amount of time just to cum. So, for once in your life, you listened.
Trying to bite back your moans, you stood statue-still as Price tugged the offending garment to the side. Two fingers slid along your folds before plunging inside with a wet squelch. âFuck, you're tight. You sure you can take me?â He breathed, and you threw your head back into his chest. He fingered you slowly, mapping out every crevice and dip with the pads of his fingers.
It wasn't enough. You needed more, âPrice if you don't fuck me right now, I swear to god, I will do it myself.â Okay, so maybe that sounded a little bit more desperate than intimidating, but it got the message across.
You felt his breathy chuckle against your ear, and suddenly, his fingers slipped out of you. âYes ma'am,â he said. However, the empty void left by his fingers was soon replaced by the burning contact of his cock against your swollen folds. Price groaned as he slid himself back and forth, gathering up your slick to use as lube.
A shudder ran down your spine, your palms pressing against the door harder. You pushed your hips back against him, earning another pleased hum from your Captain. You could barely breathe, there was a burning tension that ate away at your core. Like a rope stretched too tight, all you could do was wait for it to snap apart.
His tip slowly slipped inside your hole, the burning stretch of his girth sending the hairs at the back of your neck up. Inch by inch he seethed himself into you, âPrice-holy fuck.â You moaned, even with how wet you were, no amount of lube would ever fully prepare you for the sheer mass of him.
Price drew you in, letting your walls stretch and mold to his dick. His hands grabbed at your hip and lower stomach, holding you in place. His beard brushed against your collar as he placed a few nipping kisses on your neck. âI know baby, I know, taking me so fuckinâ well. Shit, this pussy was made for me.â He murmured into your sweaty skin.
Without warning, his hips drew back only to snap forward again. You couldn't help the unseemly moan that fell from your lips, he pounded into your cunt like it was his last day alive. The sloppy sounds of skin echoed through the room.
âOh my god- Price.â You choked out, the side of your face pressed against the door. â-feels so good.â You panted between wet slaps as his hips drove into your behind. You could barely think over the sound of your moans, each second that his dick plunged back into your sopping pussy felt like sparks being lit inside of you.
He moaned, his voice resounding across the shell of your ear. A hand snaked its way up your stomach and cupped your neck like a choker necklace. His skin burned, thick fingers curling around your scruff. It didn't hurt but it was firm, making you pliant to his body. âThat's it. Take my cock, let me fuck you like the slut you are.â He grid out, â-this pussy knows what she wants, and it's me. Nobody else can fuck you like I do. Nobody else can give you what you need, what you deserve.â
Your cunt fluttered around him, causing his hips to stutter before driving back into you with so much force your hips hit the door.
Knock knock knockâ
You're body went rigid, and all the air in your lungs seemed to escape your ribs. Fuck! You had totally forgotten that you were in a public bathroom for Christ's sake. Price had locked the door, but that didn't mean people wouldn't try and come in.
Knock knock knock!â
It was louder this time, more impatient. You tried to look back at Price, but his hand on your neck held your head still. He wasn't stopping.
âNot so fast girly, Iâd like to finish what I started.â He chuckled, angling his hips as he slammed back into your cunt. The head of his cock nuzzled against the spongy muscle of your g-spot. You were so caught off guard you didn't have time to cover the absolutely shameless moan that slipped from your lips.
Price groaned, and his cock twitched. âFuuckk that's it, let them hear you. Let everyone know how good I'm making you feel, how good I'm fucking this pussy.â You could barely process his words, everything was starting to build up to the point you were almost seeing stars. â-Come on baby, cum for me. Cum on my cock.â He panted through firm thrusts.
A sharp cry rang through the empty walls, you saw white. Body pulsing as the waves of euphoria washed over your body like the tide. Each thrust sending new shocks down your spine, prolonging every second of your orgasm. Priceâs hips stuttered, a loud curse ringing from his lips as he came inside you.
What followed was an extended silence that was filled with heavy pants. You could barely stand, Priceâs chest flush with your back, his head leaning against your shoulder.
âThink they got the message?â Price mused, his voice thick with exhaustion. You couldn't help the laugh that rose from your chest, listening in for another knock. When none came you sighed, âGuess so.â You breathed.
After another minute of rest Price pulled off of you, leaving a trail of cum seeping down your thigh. Not to mention your sweaty back and all-around messy appearance. Price simply grinned at you when you shot him a nasty glare, using some toilet paper to clean up the fluids. âWhoops.â He shrugged.
It was a good thing you were on the pill, you might've slapped him if otherwise. He chuckled and pressed a âsorryâ kiss to your temple, âCome on soldier, you look like you've been through a war.â He quipped. You didn't even try to laugh at that one.
âFunny.â You said sarcastically, but once he opened the door after redressing you, you froze. The reflection in front of you looked wellâŠlike you had just been fucked in a bathroom stall. Small bites and hickeys littered your neck, poking up to where it was obvious to see. You hit his shoulder, âYou dumbass, I look like I've been attacked by a swarm of mosquitoes! What the hell is the team going to think Mr. Designated Driver?â
Price looked at your reflection too, scratching the back of his neck. âWeâll find you a coat.â He settled on.
There was a small beat of silence, you looked back at him. âA coat, and I get to skip running drills for next week. Then you're forgiven.â
He looked back at you, âDeal.â
ËË°âą*ââ·
You really shouldnât have been doing this. It was stupid, completely idiotic. (maybe not as stupid as hooking up with your captain in a pub bathroom.) But alas, John Price could charm you into anything.
The cold night air of autumn nipped at your nose, making your face feel numb. Somehow you still felt the breeze blow through your bones while bundled up in a large coat and scarf. Hands in your pockets, you tried your best to walk inconspicuously through the small town streets next to the base.
It was late, past lights out. Just minutes before you were getting ready for bed. However, when Price called you up out of the blue asking for you to meet him for a night walk, curiosity got the best of you. To say it was odd would be an understatement, but you knew better than to pass up the opportunity. The nightlife in the little town was pretty nice, with Halloween now in full swing and all.
Small pumpkins and candles littered the ground while stores and bars were strung with purple and green lights. For a second you almost forgot you were supposed to be meeting Price. You checked your phone, reading over his message again.
[Captain]: The place is by the park, on 82th Ave. Itâs an outdoor pop-up, festive. You can't miss it.
You looked over at one of the street signs, 79th Ave, it said. At least you were getting closer, directions weren't really your strong suit so all you could really do was hope for the best.
If anyone saw you out of base, especially with Price youâd 100% raise a few eyebrows not to mention you'd be in deep trouble. So you dipped your head as low as it could go to conceal your identity. Was this behavior one of a paranoid schizophrenic? It was possible. But after the phesasco at the bar, you were okay with being weary.
You heard a soft crowd of voices coming from a distance away. Walking towards it you saw a playground lit up with small lights, two children with what looked like their parents chasing them across the woodchips. More adults walking around the greener outskirts of the ground, laughing and holding dogs on leashes.
It stirred something good inside you, like a warm feeling that you didn't often get. You stopped walking, just watching the scene play out like a domestic storybook.
âTook you long enough.â
You jumped, whipping around to see the deep voice behind you. Standing there was Price, dressed in a thick coat with worn-out jeans. He held two plastic cups in his hands, steam rising off the mystery substance inside.
âYou scared me,â You deadpanned. Your eyes went from the drinks in his hands back to his face. â-Whatâs with the cups?â
Price rolled his eyes, nodding behind him to the pop-up stand. âItâs cold, so I got you something to warm up.â He handed you one, which you accepted. Raising it to your nose, you sniffed the steam. It was warm, thick with spices, and sweet. You looked back at Price with a quizzical look, to which he smiled. âItâs cider.â
You raised an eyebrow, looking at him skeptically. âNot the spiked kind I hope.â Holding the cup a bit away from you like it was radioactive. Price's eyes crinkled, chuckling as he shook his head.
âNo, not spiked. We've got drills in the morning, I wouldn't do that to you.â With his confirmation, you took a sip, pulling your scarf down so you could drink. The hot liquid burned your tongue, but the flavor was worth it as it slid down into your stomach. Your eyes flickered up from the rim of the cup, looking at Price.
His eyes were on you, looking at you with a rare kind of softness. But after the split second of eye contact, he was the first to look away. You wiped your lips of the remaining sweetness, âPrice what are we doing here?â You asked.
He cocked an eyebrow, âI thought I told you we were going on a night walk.â He said nonchalantly, earning a half-grunt on your part.
âI know that, but why am I here? I doubt that you're incapable of walking alone.â You pointed out, but Price just shrugged.
âGood company.â He said serrupticously, a wry smile stretched onto his lips. â-Are you really that averse to spending time with me? I'd hope after all this time spent together I wouldn't need a reason to want to be around you.â Price started walking, and out of instinct, you followed behind him until you were shoulder-to-shoulder with him.
âYou're a bad lair.â You said, taking another sip of your cider. You watched the calm nightlife and a thought bubbled into your mind. Maybe to an onlooker you and Price probably looked like a couple just going on a stroll. It wasn't rocket science to see that there was a fraction of tension between you. Your cheeks pinked at the thought, but you pushed it away as soon as it came.
Price was also looking at the surrounding people, an odd look on his face. Something akin to yearning or want. He must've felt your stare because he spoke up. âInquiring minds?â
You averted your eyes, âSorry.â To which he shook his head, taking a sip of his drink.
âDon't bother, itâs fine.â He said cooly, his eyes fixed on a family standing a few feet away. You looked back at them then back to Price. A dawning washing over you in an instant. Your eyes furrowed in question.
âYou uh⊠have a family?â Jesus that sounded choppy, you cringed at yourself. He looked at you a little surprised but shook his head.
âI mean sure. Everyone does, at least at one point. But if you're asking if I do currently then no.â You nodded, feeling a little bad for asking. It wasn't too uncommon in your field, but it still put a grim mood in the air. You tried thinking of ways you could rectify it.
âSoâŠno crazy ex-wife or estranged children that I need to be worried about?â You said humorously, when Price smiled, a part of you sighed in relief.
He shook his head again, glancing at you. âNo ex-wife or estranged children, no.â You smiled and nodded, but that raised another question.
âHow come?â you asked simply.
He shot you a pointed look, âYou're asking me that like I'm ancient. I'm not that much older than you are,â He breathed. â-But if you have to know I guess I just never had the time. It's a bit testy trying to form long-term connections with people when you're in this line of work.â
You nodded in understanding, he was right. The long deployments, chances of not coming back, weird hours, it all would put a strain on a relationship. It didn't stop some, however, sometimes after not seeing the good in humanity for so long you lose the ability to connect with anyone. Especially ânormalâ people.
Your mind flashed to an old ex-boyfriend who used to talk at length about how cool it was that you got to âkill people for a living.â You didn't see it that way. Desensitized or not, it was still a human life you were taking, it took a toll, even if you were getting paid for it.
âI get that. It's hard to commit to someone you don't get to see most of the time.â You shrugged, a part of you wanted to ask about every relationship he'd ever had. More importantly how you fared against them. And for some odd reason, you felt uncomfortable knowing that he had been with other women. Maybe it was just basic biology or primitive instinct.
Price nodded, âIf I could I would've.â He glanced back at the family, watching as the dad swept up his toddler into a hug. It was bittersweet, the way Price looked at the display, dangerously pulling at your heartstrings.
You gave him a weary smile, âThereâs still time. Like you said, you're not ancient. Why not just retire and settle down with someone?â
Price looked back at you for a split second, not saying anything. He looked back out at the dark trees, the leaves rustling in the cold wind, and the lights that wrapped around the park. âMaybe at one point that was an option, but not now. I'm not cut out for it, my life is here. I'm no good at civilian shit, so I best stick to what I know.â
You didn't know what to say to that, it was a tough pill to swallow. It was silent for a few seconds. But, You nudged your shoulder with his, âWell then, I guess you're stuck with me.â Offering a somewhat awkward smile to go along with it.
Price looked down at you as he walked, his blue eyes were dark like the ocean. You didn't want to look away, you wanted to swim in his thoughts, drown yourself in his pools of navy grey. Eyes that housed so much hostility and venom towards you now bore into your own with a warmth that struck you like a match. His lips turned up, âGuess there are worse places to be.â
Your smile came back, and the mood between you ebbed into a lighter, happier atmosphere. Taking a last swig of your cider you shook your head, âYou guess? Need I remind you who asked me to be here?â
Price chuckled, doing the same and tossing his empty cup into a nearby garbage. âAlright, you win. I am grateful you came, like I said, all in good company.â
The conversation faded into a comfortable silence, and you and Price walked around the park. You watched as more and more people slowly started to dwindle, leaving it emptier than when you got there. After doing a sort of loop you both agreed to start walking back to base, and so you did. Shoulder to shoulder you walked with him through the small streets and shops.
Once you started coming up on the familiar large building a strong gust of air hit you. Your eyes shut tightly and your nose scrunched. When you did open your eyes back up Price was looking at you, you stared back at him. âWhat?â
Price snickered, âWind got you pretty good. There's a leaf in your hair.â He pointed out, to which you blindly started to try and fish out said leaf. He shook his head at your feeble efforts, stopping your hands.
âIâll get it. You're just messing it up.â He breathed, carefully his large hands combed through your head. Plucking out a pine leaf and a small fuzz, âThere.â He said proudly.
He flicked the unwanted objects off to the side, but one of his hands never left your hair. He was almost holding your face in his palm, you blinked up at him. Wondering why he wasn't letting you go, âIs there something else?â You asked.
Price looked at you, licking his lips before pursing them in a line. Slowly he shook his head, âNo.â It was silent for another beat, the soft puffs of your breath visible in the cold. You watched his adams apple bob as he swallowed.
âTell me you don't want me to kiss you.â He breathed.
Without a second thought, you shook your head no, âPrice kiss me.â It was almost alarming to you how naturally it came out. You barely even processed your own words.
And as his lips met yours in a chaste, soft kiss, you let yourself melt into him. You let him in.
ËË°âą*ââ·
You had five months until your time with 141 came to an end. In that time you had managed to befriend the whole team, make enemies with your captain, kiss said Captain, go on to have a very explicit no-strings-attached relationship with him, and nowâŠthis.
What was âthis?â Well, you didn't really quite know yourself. But after that night when he kissed you outside of base without any intention of hooking up with you, your clear-cut relationship with him became a jumbled mess of suppressed emotion. No longer were intimate gestures limited to sexual encounters, in fact, they were frequently more domestic.
Was this all of Priceâs doing? No. It was both, both of you were an intimacy-starved mess. But you couldn't help it, his private quarters were so nice and his king-sized bed seemed to fit both of you nicely on the nights you couldn't sleep. And what of it that you helped him with paperwork into the wee hours of the night? He hated being stuck up in his office alone, it was a kind gesture. Now you didn't even have to make your morning tea and coffee because whenever you made your way into the small break room a fresh cup was always sitting on the counter for you in Priceâs signature mug.
And on your weekends off? Oh, you bet your sorry (but not really,) ass he was stuck to your hip like glue.
Without knowing it, you and your captain had almost formed a routine together. One that slowly started filling the lonely silence of your day with his body, his voice, his presence.
You knew every scar on his body, you'd mapped them out like constellations. You learned something new about him every day too, it was exciting yet familiar all at once. Unbenoiced to you, 141 and by extension Price, had become home.
All of this had somehow been accumulating without your knowledge until now. To which this realization that you were a little too fond of your captain hit you like a truck. Bringing you to your current position, hunched over a small table that was tucked away in the corner of the break room. It was wayyy past lights out, but laying in your bed left with your thoughts and anxiety sounded nightmarish. A steaming cup of tea sat on the table a few inches away, (in Priceâs signature mug of course.)
Just as you were about to finally take a sip, someone walked in. You sat straight up, your heart running a million miles an hour. On top of that, you almost knocked your tea over. Who the hell was coming in at almost one in the morning???
It was Gaz.
You placed a hand over your racing heart, letting out the breath you didn't know you were holding. âJesus- you scared the shit out of me Garrick.â You said wearily.
Gaz stood at the door in his beat-up grey sweatshirt and plaid pajama pants. He looked a little rough, well, as rough as someone with his looks could be. He scratched the back of his head, âSorry, didn't think anyone would be up this late.â Dark eyebags colored his smooth brown skin, making him look like he was two steps from passing out.
Your eyebrows furrowed in a slight amount of worry, ârough night?â He nodded, walking into the room, and making a beeline for the refrigerator.
âPretty much, figured it was better to be awake than sleeping if sleep wasn't doing me any good.â He yawned, grabbing one of those refrigerated protein bars from the fridge. You nodded a silent understanding. Nightmares were commonplace, nobody talked about them, but everyone had a shared understanding of what went on in and after you woke up. Sometimes it was hard to distinguish where the dream ended and reality began.
He looked back at you as he tore the wrapper off, âWhat about you? You look like shitâŠso I want to say you're in the same boat?â Gaz took a large bite of his bar.
You groaned, your head falling back down on the wood table. âGee, thanks. But not really, just sorting out some other business.â You said bitterly.
Gaz hummed in understanding, but when you looked back up he was pulling the opposite end chair out. He sat himself across from you, folding his arms as he ate. âOkay, what's up then?â He said plainly.
You blinked at him, âWhat? No, I'm not just going to tell you. It's private.â You said shaking your head and putting your hands up as if to block his question. Gaz looked at you unimpressed, raising a single eyebrow.
âUh-huh, does it have something to do with Price?â He said, staring at you with the intensity of a laser.
You almost choked on your spit, looking at him like he'd just killed your family cat in front of you. Your mouth agape, âAbsolutely not. Why would you think itâd be about Price?â You said quickly.
Gaz simply looked at you, raising both his eyebrows at you. A silent communication of âAre you serious?â was said by his stare. After another moment of the staring contest, you gave up, dropping your head back down with a groan. âI'm so fucked.â You said defeated.
He perked up, âSpill.â Was all he said.
You covered your mouth, almost as if to stop yourself from saying anything. This was so breaking every agreement you and Price had talked about. But frankly, you were going insane keeping it to yourself. And maybe Gaz was the best person to tell, as much as you loved Ghost and Soap, they were useless at keeping secrets.
You glanced back up to Gaz, his brown eyes intently staring at you. Your resolve started to crumble, âI think Iâm in love with him.â Whispered, the haunting words magnifying the gravity of the situation you found yourself in.
Gazâs eyes shot wider like heâd just been injected with 1,000g of caffeine. His mouth fell open, and the half-eaten bar in his hands dropped onto the table. You both sat there staring at each other with similar mortified expressions. He shut his mouth, âI-Well that wasn't really what I expected to hear.â He said agast.
You buried your face into your hands, groaning. âFuck I know- I don't even know where that came from. But we've been likeâŠmessing around with each other for a few months, and I thought it was just that.â You sighed, rubbing your face with your palms. âBut now everything is like complicated, I just let my feelings take the reins and got ahead of myself. Now I don't know what to do and nobody knows because obviously, I couldn't tell anyone. After all, either of us could get in trouble.â
Gaz sat silent as you rambled on, â-Iâm still not sure exactly what I'm feeling. I've never felt this way about anyone else, I've had boyfriends, but not a weird hookup situation. So, I'm not sure how one really goes about this.â You looked down at the table, taking a breath. âSo, does that answer your question?â You breathed.
He stared at you, dumbfounded. âSo that rumor you got so mad over was true?â He said lamely, to which you groaned and threw your hands up in the air.
âNo!â You whisper shouted, â-I mean no but yes. The rumor came first, that night I stormed off Price kissed me. And after that things just kinda⊠got carried away.â You said sheepishly, feeling a bit guilty.
Gaz let out a deep sigh, leaning back in his chair. âJesus [Name], I knew something was going on between you but I didn't think it went that deep.â He ran a hand over his chin, scratching his jaw. â-SoâŠyou and Price have been secretly fucking, but just recently you realized that this uh, arrangement, has gone to shit because you now have feelings for him. Am I following?â
You pursed your lips into a tight line, âPretty much.â
He nodded and hummed in concentration, âOkay, but what changed? What made you realize you had feelings? Because to the rest of the team, it still looks like youâre at each other's throats.â Gaz said, crossing his arms.
You thought about it for a moment, trying to pull maybe a specific event from your memory. âI guess it just kinda built upâŠI mean he just changed. Sure we still fight but itâs more like banter now. He kisses me, and he holds me, he's funny and sweetâŠit's almost like I get to see an entirely new version of him that I just didn't see before.â
Gaz blinked at you, seemingly surprised. âActually?â He said, stunned. To which you nodded aggressively.
âYes- he's totally done a 180. But in a good way, he's still the same asshole but he's loving and caring too. And I feel like I'm pulling my teeth out just staying in a situation where he makes me feel like I mean so much, but then I have to go and pretend I hate him.â (you still sometimes did.)
Gaz listened to you speak, holding his chin while he thought about your words. After you were done, all he could do was sigh, âWellâŠshit. Half of me wants to pat you on the back while the other half wants to slap you across the face for being stupid.â
You scrunched your nose, holding your hands up in surrender. âPlease don't, I have enough problems as it is. I don't need to add a black eye into the mix.â
Gaz breathed an amused laugh, though, it sounded more weary than you would've liked. Even if it was the worst idea in the world to tell him, you felt better now that it was off your chest. You looked down at the table, âSo, what do I do now?â
He opened his mouth to respond but all that came out was silence. He was just as lost as you were.
You looked at him hopelessly, âCome on man, give me something.â
Gaz looked down at the table, pursing his lips in a tight line. Obviously, he had an idea, but he just wasn't saying anything. âWhat if you tried to make it work with him?â He proposed.
Your eyes widened a fraction, your mouth hanging open in what only could be described as âgobsmacked.â âYou're kidding right?â You asked, your tone nearly laughable.
He shook his head, crumbling up the wrapper of his protein bar and tossing it into a nearby trashcan. His shoulders rose with a sigh, âNo I'm not. I mean⊠why not just try? It sounds to me like you've got a fighting chance to make things work.â He said encouragingly.
You pinched the bridge of your nose, your eyes squeezing shut. âTwo minutes ago you said you wanted to slap me, and now you're telling me that I should go for it?â You said incredulous.
Gaz held his hands up in surrender, âYes, but that was before I knew everything. I just thought you were fucking the Captain at first, which is still completely idiotic. But it sounds to me like both of you are emotionally invested in each other.â He said putting his hands back down, â-And you're only here for a couple more months right? Just keep it on the down-low then you can do whatever you want. I'm like ninety percent sure that Price likes you too.â
You groaned, your head falling on the table with a clunk. âOnly ninety percent?â Peeking up to look at him, his face morphing into one of scrunched wash cloth.
âMaybe like eighty-five. But those are still good odds in my book.â He said guiltily, rubbing the back of his neck.
âYou're not helping.â You sighed, resuming your dramatic pity party. Gaz rolled his eyes at your antics, placing a comforting hand on your head and giving it an encouraging pat. âHey, I'm not saying you have to do some big confession. All I'm doing is suggesting that communicating with him may bring some good. Like Soap said that one time, Price acts differently around you, I think you've got some good chances.â
You finally looked up at him again, his face a pitying smile. âThink about it.â He said finally, leaving you with more on your mind than you originally started with.
âOkay, I'll think about it.â
ËË°âą*ââ·
Four months to go and nothing had happened. Well, not necessarily, the team had continued to train, your sneaking around with Price was still going, and the world kept spinning. Turns out that realizing one's feelings for another doesn't cause the sun to explode. Fascinating stuff.
However, there was still no confession of feelings of any kind. The two of you danced around your ârelationshipâ like it was a ticking time bomb just waiting to explode. Maybe it was for the greater good, some things were just better off unsaid.
In the meantime, your focus had shifted in light of new events that were fast approaching. You still cringed thinking of your first real mission back in Urzik, and while nothing horrible happened, it still left you with a sour taste on your tongue. There were small things 141 had been doing but now a new mission was right around the corner. There was still little to no word about rouge commander Shepard nor an explanation of the abandoned facility you had raided months back.
You still didn't even know if the two were connected, probably not. But it was still possible, maybe best not to think too hard about it. After all, you weren't the brains behind the operations, you were just the pon they sent to die in their place.
The air around 141 had become tense again, much like before Urzik. Everyone was on edge, especially Price. You were happy to take the edge off most of the time, but there were some things that sex just couldn't fix. And this fell into that category.
You were sitting on an office chair in one of the conference rooms around base. The rest of the team stood close to the large wooden table or sat in the other scattered chairs. The tension in the room was thick, nobody said a word. All focus was on Price, who stood a few feet apart from the group, flipping through a manilla folder. His eyebrows furrowed in tension and his lips pulled into a subtle frown.
He set the folder down, âWeâre going back to Urzik.â
You could almost feel the shift in the mood from bad to worse. But before you could voice your complaints Soap beat you to it. âWeâre going back to that shite hole? After what happened last time I would have assumed someone figured out that we should stay out of the terrorists and the Russians assholes.â
Price sighed, punching the bridge of his nose. âWe don't know if they were terrorists back at the compound. And Urzik hasn't been under Russian occupation since 2019.â He said, earning a half laugh from both Soap and Ghost.
âCome on Cap, you don't even believe that crap they're pushing.â Soap chuckled, his arms crossed over his chest. Leaning against the wall behind you.
While it was true that Urzikstan had been liberated from Russian rule, some of the men under General Markovâs command had disappeared after his death. Leaving some loose ends for the CIA and SAS to clean up. There had been some word of Markovâs men teaming up with local militant groups who despised Urzikâs central government. But it wasn't confirmed, nor viable.
Price shook his head, âIt doesn't matter if I believe it or not. The point is that we have a job to do and weâre not going to let past affairs get the better of our judgment.â He ran his hand over the scruff of his beard, â-Laswell wouldn't be sending us in again if she didn't have a good reason to. They have reasonable intel that just outside of Riyzabbi there's an abandoned bazaar where all of the goods from the compound were relocated.â
Ghost chimed in, âSo they're sending us on the same wild goose chase they did before? Who's to say they don't pull the same shite as last time?â
You nodded along with his words, he had a point. Price grunted, waving him off. âLike I said before, they have better intel. I'm asking you to trust me, if I see anything I don't like weâre out. Whatever is in there, we have the means to put it to an end.â
Everyone fell silent, taking in the information. It was a while before anyone spoke again, Soap sighed. âIf I have to eat that awful food back at checkpoint base Iâm quitting on the spot.â
For a second the mood shifted, and you laughed, but the reality of the situation was hovering over you like a looming storm cloud.
For a brief moment, you locked eyes with Price, and his stare told you everything you needed to know. He was just as frustrated, if not more so. His gaze shifted again, staring down at the table with an intensity you couldn't fathom. âEveryoneâs dismissed. We leave at 0500 in 72 hours.â
ËË°âą*ââ·
As Price said, 72 hours later, you were back in the air, flying to Urzikstan. An ache gnawed at the back of your head, making the already dreary ride more depressing. You were too uncomfortable to sleep and too tired to stay awake. Creating an odd out-of-body experience that you had the âpleasureâ of basking in for the whole 5-hour flight.
After you had landed at the checkpoint base you took a moment to reacquaint yourself with the landscape. Not much had changed aside from a few new tents and other minor additions to the camp. You felt a sense of Deja Vu looking at the old dining hall tent and medical area. Memories from your and Priceâs first kiss flooded your mind, under different circumstances, it might have been somewhat pleasant recounting the moment. But now, it only made you feel profoundly sad. It was nostalgic-back when everything was simpler between the two of you.
Whatever was bubbling up inside you, you shoved it down as far as it could go. Hating someone was a lot more straightforward than loving them.
You made your way to the âbarracks,â setting what little things you had onto the small cot. Everyone else was just as miserable as you were, obviously, this wasn't their first choice for sleeping quarters. A part of you wished it wasn't daytime, it would be easier to sleep away the anxiety and headache.
You had until dark to do as you pleased, when nightfall came, you were going to be loaded up into the trucks again. From there, you'd go to Riyzabbi, and once it was clear to do so, to the bazaar.
Just like the last time you were here, you felt a deep sense of dread. One that you couldn't pinpoint, nor could you explain away with âjust nervesâ. There was too much that you didn't know, and too little payoff. The only advantage 141 had was the element of surprise, and even that wasn't confirmed. A small part of you felt anger towards Laswell, she probably knew that there was something off about this mission, and yet she was sending you and the team directly into the pit of lions.
To quell the sense of impending doom, you started to wander around the checkpoint base. Not sure where you were going or what your end goal was, you continued walking. That was until you heard someone's voice bleeding out from one of the tent walls. Their tone was accusatory, malicious even, it was laced with so much venom you could feel your skin recoil. It didn't sound familiar, but the voice who came after it did.
âYou know just as well as I do it's a suicide mission. Iâm not sending my team out there to die. All for some fucking game of territory monopoly and protecting Shepard.â
Price.
The other voice spoke up again, seemingly more agitated than the first time if that was possible. âShepard is gone, and he sure as hell isn't going to be here in Urzik. And It's not a suicide mission. The CIA hired your team to do a job, not back out when things get real. Your opinion on how the government deals with involvement concerning foreign enemy affairs has no merit, Captain. If it were up to me, your team wouldn't even be here, but Kate Laswell keeps you on a tight leash doesn't she?â
You heard a loud bang, akin to a hard fist being slammed onto flat wood. âWatch your mouth. You and your muppets can both go crawl back under the CIAâs boot. As for Laswell, you know just as well as I do she would be more than happy to bring you and rouge commander Shepard's previous associations to the attention of your government.â
There was silence for a beat. Suddenly you could feel your heart beating, pounding in your chest. Your fingers felt numb, and even time seemed to slow. You could say with 100% certainty that you were not supposed to be listening, you weren't even sure if you wanted to keep listening. You heard footsteps coming from the inside, in your peripheral vision, you caught the slight rustle of the tent door. Without thought you jumped out of sight, pressing yourself to the side of the tent just as a man stormed out.
You watched the back of his head as he muttered something, you held your breath. After a good minute, you exhaled, silently creeping out from where you stood. Something in you was telling you to leave, to pretend you had never heard what you did. But there was a magnetic pull that drew you back into Price.
Carefully, you peeked your head through the tent door. A few feet away was Price, his back was turned with his hand over his face, the other on his hip. Before you could speak he turned around to see you, his eyes growing twice the size. Time seemed to freeze for a second time, you watched his eyes go from surprise to anger, and then to exhaustion. By the look on your face, he most likely already knew what you were hiding.
âHow much did you hear?â He sighed, rubbing his hand over his cheek.
You walked into the tent, standing awkwardly in front of the door. âJust the last part.â You confessed, swallowing what little bravery you had left.
Price didn't respond, his hand moving over his eyes to rub and smooth over his temples. His cheeks pulled in as he bit the inside of his mouth. âRight⊠well, I'm sorry you had to hear that.â He breathed, his voice more weary. A stark contrast to the raw anger you heard from him a few moments prior.
You shook your head, âDon't be sorry. At first, I was mad at you and Laswell for going through with this. But⊠I guess after that, I know you didn't want to either.â You tried your best to form a semblance of hope, giving him a drained smile. âLike you said, this mission is fucking suicide. But if anyone can lead the team and somehow come out alive, it's you.â
There was a flash of something in Priceâs eyes, it was the same thing that you saw back on your walk with him months prior. You glanced down at his hands, watching the way they flexed. Like he was aching to hold, to touch something. His throat bobbed as he swallowed, âIâm sorry.â He breathed, â-Iâm sorry that I'm putting you and the guys in this situation.â
Priceâs hand came back up, dragging it across the side of his face. His eyes shut tight, eyebrows knit together. âIt's justâŠthe longer I stay here, doing this, the more it's clear to me none of it was for a greater good. And I don't want that for you.â He sighed, â-IâŠI want you to know there is a way out [Name]. You don't have to continue to do this.â
This made you draw back, Price had never sounded like this before. He sounded like he was already admitting defeat, and like he was giving you a chance to escape what you chose to do. Your eyebrows furrowed, marching straight up to him with your lips twisted in a frown. You reached up to pull his hand away from his face, your other hand reaching up to cup his cheek with your hand. Your palm pressed against his jaw, feeling the rough bristle of his beard under the pads of your fingers. Forcing him to look at you.
âDonât do that.â You said sternly, making his eyes snap back. Looking at you with a mixture of surprise and confusion. â-Donât act like everything is already set in stone, we don't know what's going to happen. It could go bad but it could also be fine. And you're also acting like I didn't choose to be here, I'm willing to do this job Price. Just because I don't like what shady shit someone is doing behind the scenes doesn't mean I'm going to back out.â
Price stared at you, and you stared back. Willing him to understand that you had hope for him, you had hope for the team. Maybe it was stupid to try and be strong, but if you didn't try, you'd be giving up too.
You couldn't leave, not now. Not when you had a reason to stay. As much as you hated the idea of someone sending you into a death trap, the only thing you hated even more would be leaving Price to go into said death trap. You couldn't pry yourself away from him even if you tried. Your hand squeezed his, I love you, the gesture said.
Price squeezed your hand back, â[Name], I-â I love you, his eyes said. You shook your head, staring back at him with the same intensity.
âI know.â You breathed back. You couldn't stand it, you wanted to hear the words from his mouth. You wanted it with everything in you, but this was probably the worst time you could think of to confess. So, you settled for a mutual understanding. A silent promise, that when you came back maybe things could be different.
There was another beat before he leaned in, and like an idiot, you let it happen. Your hand tightened slightly against his cheek, eyes fluttering shut as he kissed you. His lips were warm, and you sighed into his mouth as you got a taste of him. His mouth that tasted like smoke and whiskey, and you yearned for more. His body was charged with an electricity that sent shivers down your spine. Every brush, touch, and groan had you on edge.
Before you knew it, he was pushing you up against the table that sat in the middle of the room. Your hand slid down from his face to fist into his shirt as you were slowly backed against the wood. You should've pushed him off, it was too risky to be doing this now. It was mid-day for fucks sake, not only that but anyone could walk into the tent.
Yet something about the tension, exposed and raw like an open cable wire, held you back from protesting. Hell, if this was the last time you were going to see him outside of the field, mind as well go out with a bang (literally).
Price must've come to the same conclusion by the way he sat you down on the table, standing in between your parted thighs. His breath was heavy and his lips slick, taking you in with his eyes. âFuckinâ Christ love, you're a vision. I don't say it enough, but you're gorgeous.â He murmured, breathless.
You felt your cheeks go hot, the warmth seeping up into your ears. Taking compliments was never your strong suit. Price pressed a chaste kiss on your forehead, his hands moving from your waist to the belt and zipper of your pants. His lips brushed against the shell of your ear, âBaby lay back for me.â
Well with that voice, you couldn't bear to not comply. You hesitantly lowered your back onto the flat wood of the table. Propping yourself on your elbows, watching as Price slowly pulled your pants down to reveal your undergarments. His eyes flickered to you then back to your covered pussy, an insatiable hunger in those pools of navy blue. He lowered to his knees, hooking your thighs under his biceps. Price pressed a few soft nips and kisses to the burning skin of your inner thighs, earning a few soft gasps on your part.
Your nails scraped against the wood, biting down on your lip to keep your voice down. With one hand, Price hooked his finger against the fabric of your panties, parting it to the side to show your soaked cunt. A small groan left him at the sight of you, he glanced back at you. âYouâre gonna be quiet now right?â
Without a thought behind it, you nodded. Desperate to have his mouth on you, he leaned in, flattening his tongue to lick a long stripe up your folds. Your head fell back, eyes fluttering for a moment. When he started to swirl his tongue over your clit, you almost broke. âPrice-â You gasped out, your voice a whisper.
He hummed against your cunt, suctioning his mouth against your clit. âNo Price here, weâre far past that love. Use my name baby, use my name and I'll listen.â He murmured, the vibrations of his voice making your mind dizzy. One of your hands threaded into his short hair, guiding his face against your pussy.
âFuck- John, feels good. Feels so good.â You whispered, your voice almost a mewl. His dull nails dug into the meat of your thigh, groaning softly as he lapped at your weeping cunt. Your eyes squeezed shut, all of your concentration honing in on trying not to moan out loud.
His tongue switched between fast flicks of your clit and drawn-out open-mouthed kisses to your mound. When you got more desperate you guided him to where you wanted, and John was happy to oblige.
Your back was now flat on the table, thighs locked around Priceâs head like a boa constrictor. Your voice was now silent moans and labored breaths, and with every passing moment, it was harder to stay quiet. Your nails tugged at his hair, gripping onto him like a lifeline. John suddenly pushed his tongue into your hole without warning, pushing the tip of the muscle in and out with vigor. You nearly screamed, slapping a hand over your mouth to bite on your knuckle.
Price was devouring you like a man starving.
Your back arched off the wood of the table, methodically moving your hips in tandem with his tongues movements. The slurry of noises coming from Johnâs mouth and your cunt was obscene. Wet smacks of his lips mixed with small groans and deep gasps.
It felt like you were floating, your senses muddied beneath the feeling of his mouth. Your body was burning, a coil in your stomach just begging to snap. You bucked your hips into his face, begging him to quell the fires raging in your body. Price seemed to catch on, he held one of your thighs tight while the other slid between your legs. His mouth hovering over your pussy, he slipped a digit into your aching cunt.
You silently cried out, your core tightly gripping his finger as he curled it inside you. Then, he slowly worked in a second, mimicking the âcome hereâ motion with his fingers buried deep in your pussy. âAttaâ girl, little longer for me.â John breathed against you, his breath fanning against your cunt.
Suddenly he was on you again, swirling his tongue over your swollen bud while curling his digits in you. You could have died happy then and there, everything felt so good you couldn't think. Your nails dug into the table, marking it with long stripes.
Between his fingers and his tongue, you were a goner. Your vision went white, trying your hardest not to scream out to the heavens. âJohn- shit I canât I'm gonna cum.â You whined through heavy pants, tears pooling in the corner of your iris from the stimulation.
âCome on then, cum for me. Let go love, cum on my mouth.â He murmured against your sopping pussy, flicking his tongue over your clit and speeding the movement of his fingers.
That was all it took before you came, hard. Your back arched and your head fell back, biting down on your hand so hard that it hurt. Your thighs shook as the wave of your orgasm crashed over you, white-hot and mind-blowing. And John fucked you through it, never letting up on his page until you fell limp like a bag of flour. After those precious few moments, he gently slid his fingers from your cunt. Pressing a soft kiss to your thigh before setting it down slowly.
You were gone. Your brain turned to mush, a daze of post-orgasm exhaustion and giddiness. Slowly you blinked your eyes back open, letting John slowly guide you back to a sitting position. He held the small of your back while his other hand held your face.
âYou alright?â John murmured, his mouth shiny with your slick. You couldn't help but laugh, your forehead hitting his lightly.
âYeah, yeah, I'm alright.â You breathed. The after-glow hit you hard, but there was still the looming anxiety of the mission. You knew the moment wouldn't last forever, you just hoped you could bask in it a little longer.
John sensed the shift, knowing it was his turn to be brave, rubbing his thumb over your cheek. His eyes soft, âHey, like you said, weâre gonna be okay. Nothing is set in stone yet.â He whispered, making you nod.
âRight. Weâre going to come out of this.â You said, more for yourself. He nodded, the both of you knew deep down it was wishful thinking. But maybe having something to hope for, something to come back to, would push you to fight even harder to keep it.
And in the end, you were willing to do anything to keep this.
ËË°âą*ââ·
Everything around you was dark, with an air pungent with dust and grime. The walls only grew bigger and shadowed as you passed, ducking behind doors and boxes to remain out of sight. Just like last time everyone was paired in either a group of two or three, you were with Ghost. You had to give him credit where credit was due, as large and burly as he was, he was silent as he moved.
The bazaar was large, with huge openings in the ceilings covered by hanging fabric. Open doors that connected rooms and massive lamps draped from the walls. It might've even been nice had it not been for its years of inactivity, and under the cover of night, it was simply eerie. Wires covered the walls and ceiling, some even hanging down low enough to snag someone if you weren't careful.
You weren't quite sure what exactly you were looking for, after all, you didn't know what this aforementioned âbio-chemical labâ looked like. And if it was easily portable, it wouldn't exactly look like your standard chemistry lab.
â[Name].â
Ghost spoke into your headpiece, standing several feet away. You snapped out of your train of thought, looking back at him.
âLetâs get a move on, the others are on the top floor. I'm guessing itâs near the bottom, or even underground, be on high alert. There's bound to be people this time around.â He said, earning a nod from your end.
With that, you made your way further into the bazaar. Gun at the ready, you weaved through rooms and piles of storage and other junk. When you got to a large room on the north side of the building, tucked away between rubble and containers your body tensed. There wasn't anything unordinary about it, it looked exactly like every other room, but something felt off. A few steps into the space and you had your explanation for the uneasiness you felt.
With an odd thunkâ of your boot on the ground, you looked back at Ghost. He looked back at you, the same expression on his face, it was hollow.
You came off it, brushing your foot over the area again to remove the grime and dust. It was a different color and texture than the ground. âWell Iâll be damned, you were right.â You breathed, â-Think this opens up from the outside?â Ghost kneeled on the ground next to whatever you found. Pushing his hand over it and sending small clouds of dust into the air.
âDoesn't matter if it does.â He said, fishing out a knife from his bullet vest. Finding a dibet with his finger in the ground he wedged the blade in between the surface, pulling up until the ground lifted.
With a grunt, he wrapped his fingers around the edge of the trap door. Pulling until the structure revealed a human-sized rectangular hole in the ground. A latter peeking out from inside the ground pressed into the side of the dirt. You stared down at it, knowing this was it. Clicking your headpiece, you spoke, âCap, we got something. Northside, ground floor, itâs a trap door in the last room.â
After a moment you got a response, âCopy. See what you can find, weâre coming. If you see anything don't think, just shoot. I want you and Ghost alive.â Priceâs voice rang loud and clear in your ear.
With a nod, you looked back down at the hole, even with night vision, it was hard to make out the bottom. Ghost was the first to go down, with you following suit the minute he gave the all-clear to come down. Inside was dark and smelled like mildew, a tunnel leading further into the unknown. The same wires that hung down from up on the surface were strung about the dirt walls. It wasn't spacious in the tunnel, but it didn't make you feel claustrophobic.
Ghost raised his gun, nodding to you to follow as you made your way deeper. It wasn't long until you reached a door, it wasn't impenetrable by any means, but it was going to be a pain to get through. But the thing that caught your attention most was the faint light that peeked from the cracks of the hinges. Ghost looked at you, âGet back, and Iâll break the door, you follow in straight after and shoot at anything you see.â
As said, with a firm kick, Ghost kicked the door down. The metal swung open with a crackle, and with your gun at the ready, you quickly followed him inside. The first thing you heard was voices, panicked and deep. Your eyes met a man in the corner of the room, quickly scrambling up to his feet and reaching the rifle that lay in front of him. Just like you were told, you didn't think, you acted on instinct.
Your gun went off, and his body was forced back by the blow. Blood spattered the wall behind him, his head rolling limp on his shoulders. You heard another shot fired, looking over to Ghost who was in firing position, and then to the direction of his rifle. Another body, this one standing, keeled over onto the floor, pooling red onto the ground. A deafening silence followed after, you waited for more voices but they never came.
âJust two?â You said, looking between the two. â-and they don't look local.â You muttered, focusing on the pale skin and European features. You looked back to Ghost who was standing a few feet away. â-Think they might be Russian like Soap said?â
Ghost shrugged, âIt's possible.â He gruffed, looking around the room. It was emptier than you expected, with a table, lamps, flasks, and a few weapons. Another voice rang out from somewhere in the cavern before you could look any further. Coming from another hallway that you had missed when you first saw the room.
You quickly ran against the wall near the hallway entrance, pressing yourself into the hard surface so you wouldn't be seen. Ghost followed suit, and not a second later another man ran out, rifle in hand. And just like before you fired, watching the body hit the ground like a sac of potatoes.
This one looked like he could be from Urzik. You looked back at Ghost, who pushed off the wall, ducking into the hallway. It wasn't long before you entered a much bigger cavern, full of boxes and equipment. Open containers of guns with ammunition, tables covered with cylinder-shaped lab equipment. You could hardly classify this as a lab, more like a glorified basement with makeshift tools. Large computers also lined what little space they could occupy. Florescent overhead lights cast the room in a putrid dimish glow.
Before you had time to react a bullet brushed past your arm. Sending a burning shock through your system. You ducked, trying to avoid what you couldn't see.
âThey're shooting!â You yelled out to Ghost, finding refuge in a large container that you hid behind.
You looked around, desperate to see where the firing was coming from. Your eyes caught three at first glance, one person across the room, hiding behind another container. Another fired from a doorway, and the last one hid behind a table. All three aiming for either your box of Ghost. Your hands held your gun with an iron grip, turning your knuckles white.
You peeked out from behind the container, aiming for the second guy in the doorway. Your first shot missed, but your second shot straight through his forehead. Ghost, from wherever he was, took out the third guy from behind the table. Leaving the one behind the other container, peaking back out you felt another bullet fly past you. You scrambled back, your heartbeat hammering in your chest.
You called out to Ghost, âI can't get him! You're gonna have to take the last one!â After another shot to your hiding place, chipping the wood of the contained, Ghost called back.
âCopy! I've got him!â He yelled, a final shot echoing through the cavern before everything fell into an eerie silence. You tentatively rounded the corner of the container, looking back at the first guy's hiding spot. When all you saw was his body flat on the ground, you breathed a sigh of relief.
You heard Ghost call to you again, â[Name], you hurt?â You stood up, looking over in the direction of his voice. He was behind one of the walls of the hallway, pressed against the dirt wall.
âNo, I'm all good. You?â You said back, scanning him for any sign of injury. He shook his head, letting his gun fall to his side.
âI'm clear.â He said, walking out from the hallway. You looked back at the three bodies adorning the floor, which made six in total so far. These three also looked like they were locals, you walked over to one. Moving your foot to hover over their hand, you kicked the gun away, staring at the blackened tattoo on his palm. Before, Soap had mentioned that rebel groups in Urzik shared a tattoo on their palms. Much like a gang tattoo, it united them under a common collective.
You looked back at Ghost, âWhat do Urzik terrorists have to do with us? If this really is a problem with uprisings against their government, why would the SAS and the CIA get involved?â
Your mind flashed to the conversation between Price and the commander back at the checkpoint base. He had said that if it had been up to him, 141 would never have been involved. Laswell had been the one to push for the team's involvement, even with its potholes. Then came Shepard, whose disappearance had led to your involvement with the team in the beginning. The only link to this you had to Shepard was his name being mentioned back at base.
Jesus, your head hurt just trying to think about it.
Ghost walked over to you, âMy advice wouldn't be to think too hard about it [Name]. Weâre doing a job, thinking about shite like this leads into a bigger rabbit hole than you think.â
You nodded, a frown settling onto your lips. Nothing about this sat right with you, but that was the cost you paid for being here in the first place.
âThe important thing is, we located the lab. Now we just make sure there's nobody else so someone else can pick up the mess over here.â He said, making you nod along with him. Price and the other guys would probably be down any minute, that would make clearing everything out a hell of a lot easier.
You looked back at the man on the ground, staring into the fleshy eyes that held no light. You were reminded of the compound, staring into the eyes of the man who had shot Priceâs foot. You didn't feel sorry, more hollow.
Ghost turned his back, looking over to the entranceway hall. And the split second for him to turn around was all it took for something to go wrong all over again. With no warning, you felt something burn your side, sharp and hot like lava. A hand yanked you back, snaked around your neck, and held you back to something firm. You could barely choke out a gasp, the thorn in your side sending shocks of pain through your body you didn't even know was possible.
Something cold pressed against your temple, you could barely process what was happening before you heard a click. Ghost whipped around at the noise, immediately holding up his rifle to whatever was behind you.
For a brief moment, time stopped. You were all too familiar with what was happening, you were being held at gunpoint. Nobody moved, Ghost's voice suddenly echoing through the silent room. âShepard. Let her go.â He said.
You blinked, Shepard? Fuck, you didn't see that coming. You thought maybe he had a small part in the involvement, but you didn't expect him to actually be here. You tried to look at him, but his arm around your throat only tightened, making you squirm. The thing in your side, most likely a knife, only seemed to hurt more the longer it was left sticking out of you.
âDrop your gun, and I will.â His voice was cold, it sounded like sandpaper. His breath made your nostrils recoil in disgust.
Ghost shook his head, his eyes darting between yours and the man holding you. âYou and I both know that's not happening.â The barrel of the gun pressed into your skin harder, making you wince. Your hands clawing at his arm to pry him off your neck.
âIf you don't drop that gun, I will kill this one. And that's a promise.â He said, your body felt numb, and the lack of oxygen only seemed to make you all the weaker. You heard voices from beyond the hallway, your mind screaming for John. You needed him, you needed him to come and fix the mess you had gotten yourself into. Being a hostage was by far your least favorite activity.
Ghost swallowed, still pointing his gun at Shepard. âShepherd, it's in your best interest that you let her go. You're not getting out of this, you know that. You shoot her and itâs just another kill added to your list of crimes, letâs not lengthen that sentence.â
Shepard snarled, âI'll be damned if I'm sent to prison, we can do this all-day lieutenant. You pull that trigger, and I fire. If you put the gun down, maybe we can negotiate something.â
You tried gasping for air, your airways closing up. Nails clawing at his shirt, like a caged animal trying to get out of its enclosure. From your squinted eyes you could make out the form of Price, Gaz, and Soap entering the room, guns at the ready. The pain in your side fired back up again as the blade twisted, making you yelp.
âShepherd put the fucking gun down!â You absentmindedly recognized John's voice, your vision growing fuzzier by the second.
You tried your best to fight, thinking of anything you could to stay conscious. You thought of your friends, family, and John. Between the knife in your side, the gun against your head, and his arms around your throat it was a miracle you could even think. You blinked again, gasping for more air. You saw Ghost and Price, Soap a few feet away, Gaz must've been somewhere in the room as well.
âGet back or she's dead!â Shepard barked, his voice ringing in your ear. You saw blotches of black in your vision, your body slowly losing its feeling.
As you blacked out, you heard a gunshot fire.
ËË°âą*ââ·
A white light flooded your vision, making your face scrunch up in discomfort. It was harsh and almost painful, you tried shutting your eyes as tight as they could go, but it was burned into your retinas.
Your limbs felt sluggish, you couldn't lift your arms. It seemed like you could only move your face, after another minute of trying to shut out the light, you gave up. Blinking your eyes open, you saw said white light hanging down from an even whiter ceiling.
âHoly shit, you're awake.â A female voice said, making you halt. You knew that voice, your eyes darted to the sound. Turing your head from its apparent, laying position to follow your gaze. Your eyes met an older woman, she had bangs and blondish hair.
âLaswell?â You croaked, your voice was shot. It sounded like a frog, making you internally cringe.
Kate Laswell stood at the foot of your bed, her hands grabbed at your arm. âDonât talk [Name], the nurse said you shouldn't be using your voice for the next couple of days.â She scolded. You grunted, your throat felt as dry as the Sahara.
The pain slowly started to come back, a deep-seated ache that made you wince. âWhat happened?â You breathed. Your mind was fuzzy, the last thing you remembered was being in the bazaar and being held at gunpoint by Shepherd.
Laswell pursed her lips in a line, obviously not too thrilled about the events that transpired. âWell, John told me after you passed out they managed to disarm Shepard. But by that point, you were already gone, so they got you out. After that, you were transported to the checkpoint base and now you're in the hospital.â
You were following up until the hospital part, last time you checked, the checkpoint base didn't have a full-fledged hospital. âHospital where?â You croaked, looking at Laswell for an answer.
âD.C,â She said plainly, almost like it was obvious. âIt was the easiest place I would be able to keep an eye on you until you woke up.â
You barely had the energy to be surprised, âOh.â Was what you settled on. âWhere is the rest of the team?â You asked.
She sighed, âJohn is here. Garrick and Ghost are still in Urzik for another day, they have other matters they need to sort out first. Soap also came here with you, though he's not in the hospital.â
You nodded along, a small part of you relaxed when you heard John's name. He was here, which meant he was most likely safe. Your eyes closed, âoh, good then.â You sighed, your voice a whisper. Any louder and it would sound like your vocal cords were being torn to ribbons.
Laswell looked down at you, a sadness in her eyes. Almost guilt, â[Name].â She said, grabbing your attention again, â-Iâm pulling you off the team early.â
You froze, your eyes doubling in size. Maybe you misheard her, 141 was your family, she couldn't just pull you off. You still had a few more months with them! âWhat? Why?â You asked throatily.
She looked at you incredulously, âBecause you almost died. Honestly, it was my fault in the beginning, I shouldn't have put you in the situation.â Your eyes narrowed, you tried to sit up but she placed a firm hand on your chest to keep you from doing so.
âLaswell, Iâm fine. I don't need to be taken off 141, everyone in the world has probably had a near-death experience.â You protested, â-I want to keep being on the team, I know at first I was only doing this as a favor but I'm not anymore.â
Laswell looked at you, a bit stunned. Her eyes stared into yours, deciphering if you were really telling the truth. âAre you sure? I was only going to do it because I believed that is whatâs in your best interest. But are you positive this is what you want? Even after what happened?â
You stared back at her, determined as ever. âI'm positive.â
There was a beat of silence before Laswell sighed, rubbing her face. âOkay,â she breathed. âBut you're still not allowed to participate in anything until you're fully healed.â Your demeanor relaxed again, almost sinking into the mattress. It was a win, a small one, but a win nonetheless.
You looked back at her, âYou said Price was here right?â You asked, trying your best to hide the eagerness in your tone.
She nodded, âYes, he's outside. He's been coming with me to check on you.â
You could've run out of bed at that exact moment, from the first minute you'd woken up he was occupying half of your thoughts. âCould I talk to himâŠ?â You asked, trying to disguise your desperation.
Laswell gave you a pointed look, obviously, she knew more than what she was letting on. âYou have ten minutes, then I'm pulling him out so you can get more rest.â
You thanked her profusely, waiting in anticipation for John to walk through the door. You shimmied up into a sitting position, trying not to irritate the stitches in your side. After a minute, your captain walked through the door. His hair was a bit tousled, and his beard had been trimmed, but there were large bags under his blue eyes. Clad in an army-green cotton shirt with jeans. He was a sight for sore eyes that was for sure.
After a minute of staring he bolted across the room, enveloping you in a tight embrace. His hand holding the back of your head to his chest and his other arm wrapped around your back. You weakly tried to hug him back, inhaling his scent.
âYou have no idea how worried I was.â He breathed, pulling away to get a good look at your face. His hands cupped your jaw like a precious jewel. You smiled, laughing to the best of your ability.
âWell, I'm alive. That's saying something.â You breathed, taking him in. Youâd barely spent any time away from him, yet you missed him, you needed his presence like you needed air. âNobody can kill me that easy, not even Shepard.â
He looked at you, unimpressed by your attitude, âI wouldn't boast your level of confidence for someone in a hospital bed.â He deadpanned. You simply waved him off, but a question popped into your mind before you could say anything.
âHey, what was Shepherd doing there anyway? I know you mentioned him earlier but I still don't understand why he was involved.â You asked, making him sigh.
John rubbed his neck, leaning back a little from his position. âIf I'm being honest? I don't know either, I had a feeling he would be there but I wasn't positive. My best guess would be that he probably got involved with Markov's goons after he went rogue. After they must've teamed with underground gangs to keep tabs on what the CIA was up to.â He looked back at you, âA few people from the inside still had communication with him, that was most likely how we got the tip-off that he was in Urzik.â
You hummed, mostly glad you could put Urzik behind you. It was over and that was all that mattered, âSo what happens now?â You asked.
Price raised an eyebrow, âWhat do you mean?â
âWhat happens now that you caught him?â You clarified. Staring at him curious.
John shrugged, his thumb brushing against your cheek. âWell Shepherd is dead, he died during the altercation back in Riyzabbi. As for the team, we go back to normal. A few people who had relations with Shepherd are being tried in international court for unauthorized communication with enemies. But that's it, as far as I know.â
You hummed, letting your eyes flutter shut. Basking in the feel of his thumb against your skin, âMm, and usâŠ?â You asked, feeling a bit brave.
You felt him halt, âWell, you obviously know we can't exactly be public about this.â You opened your eyes back up to him, â-But, I don't think I can really deny what I feel for you.â
Your lips curled into a warm smile, one that seemed to say âI love you.â John traced the pad of his thumb over your bottom lip, âI love youâ the gesture said.
âI love you.â You said, unable to hold yourself back from uttering the words any longer.
John smiled, âI love you too.â
Pulling you in for a chaste kiss, you smiled against his lips. Your nose brushed his, his eyelashes tickling your skin.
You were going to be just fine.
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Hey, don't go!
Okay first things first, I want to say a HUGE thank you to everyone who liked, commented, reposted, or send me kind messages on my last post. I never thought I would reach 1,000 likes but you guys work miracles! It literally means the world to me.
Second, so sorry for the long wait. I know it was awhile but Iâm balancing my classes, social life, and my writing so it gets hectic sometimes. But I appreciate you for having patience in me, I want to ask if you would be so kind as to like, repost, or leave a comment! It really helps, more than you know.
Lastly, you definitely havenât seen the last of me yet. There is more content coming! It might take a bit but I am working hard to please you ;) and with that I hope you enjoyed Captains Girl Part II, I love you all! Toodles àŹ(à©*Ëá”Ë)à©*âÌË đ
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Part I of⊠Captains Girl: ËË°âą*ââ·
Thank you
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CW: 18+ MDNI, price x scam caller!reader, cyber stalking - unedited - dividers -> @/cafekitsune
Can you imagine being in a rough place when a friend of a friend of a friend manages to rope you into scam calling?
And when your first target ever is John price?
He knows something is up instantly. He knows you donât work for a bank, not with the way your voice shakes and tumbles over your script- but he lets you think he believes you, lets you give him the runaround, even throws you one of the gift cards youâve been told to ask for. Itâs not too bad when he gets to listen to your cute voice for the duration of the call, guiding him through the steps.
Slowly and without your knowledge, he gathers information on you and the office youâre calling from- taps into your camera too. He watches you fuss and frown as he begins to mess up small tasks, then when youâre trying to get him back on track, he drops your full legal name.
The line falls silent.
âThatâs you, isnât it love?â
Thereâs a smile audible in his voice as you sputter with wide eyes, processing whatâs happening.
âDonât hang up-â he orders and you comply, you can tell it wouldnât end well if you did. âNot nice to scam old men, you hard on cash?â
You lower your voice so no one else in the room can hear. âYes, sir.â
Heâs grateful for your honesty, but heâd much rather hear a phrase like that while youâre bouncing on his lap.
âI donât like being taken for a fool, but Iâm a nice man.â His tone is self important. âTell me- do you like this job? Do you feel good when you successfully scam other old folk?â
Through the webcam, you look about ready to cry as your head bows down into the cheap office cubicle. âS-sir, you- th-this was my first day.â
â-Shh, itâs okay love.â He coos âyouâre not in trouble.â
You sniffle quietly.
â-But you do owe me back what youâve taken. Iâm not a man you steal from.â
You pale, he had sent you a pretty hefty amount- but it had already gone to the person running the operation. âI-I donât- I canât-â
âWe can work something out.â He hums as his eyes flit over your home address on the screen in front of him, readjusting in his seat. â-Like I said, Iâm a nice man. Now, go home and be good for me, have to send in some reports on your esteemed employer. I have your personal number, love. Iâll be in touch.â
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This is totally self indulgent
I love Hesh, I feel like he needs more attention
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