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brunochavoulert · 7 days

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Beyond the Horizon: The Quest for Freedom (English version)

Warning: this story was originally written in Portuguese. This version (in English) was translated directly by a translation website, so I apologize if anything sounds incomprehensible to you. It was the most I could do to try to democratize this story. Hope you like it. Thanks!

PROLOGUE

The life of a foreigner, especially an exchange student, can be challenging, especially in those countries that have a culture completely different from your home country. Felipe discovered this in the worst possible way when, at the age of 17, he went on exchange to Japan. His Brazilian roots meant he faced several challenges in his daily life in his new life.

Even on the other side of the world, Felipe carried the green of the Brazilian flag in his eyes, while the bangs of his brown hair, which fell over his forehead, when it flew in the afternoon breeze, resembled the South American starry pavilion fluttering in the wind. when hoisted. His reserved personality meant that he was well received by his two and only friends in the new country in which he lived: Kaito and Akimiro, who were the same age as him and were always accompanying him and helping him in whatever way possible. for it to adapt to the new culture in which it was inserted. They weren't always nearby, but a curious fact is that they weren't always so far away either.

HISTORY - SINGLE PART

One day, in the busy outdoor courtyard of the Japanese school, the midday sun cast its golden rays on the students gathered for lunch. Felipe, who was experiencing his first day of school in Japan, occupied a table with Kaito and Akimiro near the center, where the excitement was evident. The tantalizing aroma of Asian dishes filled the air, while lively conversations resonated all around.

Felipe, with his shy and somewhat clumsy nature, tried, with some embarrassment, to use his chopsticks to pick up the pieces of food on his plate. His movements were hesitant, and the chopsticks seemed to have a mind of their own, challenging his newly acquired skill. Kaito and Akimiro, on the other hand, laughed openly at the situation, their eyes shining with amusement.

— You must catch them more subtly, Felipe. — Akimiro encouraged, with a gentle smile, while using his chopsticks to demonstrate how to use them for the exchange student. — Come on, you can do it!

With a sigh of resignation, Felipe followed Akimiro's instructions, who, after several clumsy attempts, finally managed to hold a piece of exotic food between his chopsticks. With an expression of triumph mixed with apprehension, he took the food to his mouth, his shyness momentarily eclipsed by hunger. However, his brief victory soon gave way to an expression of displeasure as the peculiar taste invaded his mouth.

- What is that? — Felipe asked, frowning suspiciously.

Kaito and Akimiro exchanged amused glances before letting out infectious laughter.

— It's a century-old egg, a Chinese delicacy! — Kaito explained between laughs.

Felipe made a disgusted face, his reaction causing more laughter among his friends.

- This is horrible! I knew I wouldn't like this! — He grumbled, making a face expressing his displeasure with the food while shaking his head.

Kaito and Akimiro were even more amused by Felipe's expression, sharing complicit looks that expressed joy for the friendship and shared adventures. Amid the hustle and bustle of the outdoor courtyard, the camaraderie between the three friends shone like a ray of sunshine on a summer day.

After lunch, Felipe, Kaito and Akimiro headed to the sports court for Physical Education class, wearing their specific uniforms for the occasion. The three friends were now wearing their Physical Education uniforms, which consisted of a loose white t-shirt, which made Felipe almost pale due to his fair skin, combined with gray football shorts that reached his knees. Gray socks, stretched halfway up the students' shins, completed the ensemble, while white shoes reflected the afternoon sunlight.

As they entered the court, Felipe observed the movement around him with a mixture of curiosity and shyness. The excitement of students preparing for activities was almost palpable, and he felt a little intimidated by the pulsing energy of the environment. Kaito and Akimiro, noticing Felipe's hesitation, exchanged sympathetic glances before approaching him with encouraging smiles.

— Come on, Felipe, you'll be fine. — Kaito said, patting his friend on the back with a friendly gesture.

Akimiro nodded with a reassuring smile.

— Don't worry, we're all in this together. — He added, his voice conveying confidence and support.

Although he still felt a little nervous, Felipe felt comforted by the presence of his friends by his side. With a grateful smile, he prepared to face the challenges of PE class, knowing that with Kaito and Akimiro's support, he could overcome anything.

Kaito, in his playful and always optimistic way, tried to calm Felipe's nerves:

— Try to relax, it will just be a class like all the others we had today. — he said, casting a reassuring smile in his friend's direction. — And the professor is a nice guy, you'll see.

Felipe, although grateful for Kaito's support, couldn't help but feel anxious about the prospect of participating in physical activities.

— I'm not very good at sports. — He admitted, with a worried expression on his face.

However, Kaito was not willing to let Felipe's insecurity dominate him. With a confident nod, he placed a comforting hand on your shoulder.

— Don't worry about it, Felipe. The important thing is to have fun and do your best. We are here to support you.

Kaito gave an encouraging smile and Akimiro nodded in agreement, showing his silent support for his friend.

- That's right. You are not alone in this. Let's have fun.

The words of encouragement from his friends warmed Felipe's heart, dispelling some of his anxiety. With a sigh of determination, he straightened his shoulders and threw a grateful smile at Kaito and Akimiro.

- Thank you guys. Lets do this. — He said, with renewed determination.

And so, with the support and friendship of Kaito and Akimiro by his side, Felipe prepared to face the challenge of Physical Education class with courage and determination, knowing that, whatever happened, he would not be alone.

However, a thunderous sound echoed through the air: Felipe's stomach growled loudly, like distant thunder. A strange feeling came over him, and a sudden urgency made him feel an unbearable urge to run to the bathroom. Kaito and Akimiro, worried about Felipe's sudden expression, approached him with inquisitive looks.

— Hey, Felipe, what's going on? — Akimiro asked, with a tone of concern in his voice.

Felipe, struggling to hide his anguish, tried to make a quick excuse, his eyes darting nervously.

- Anything! Nothing no. It's just nervousness, but it will pass.

Kaito and Akimiro exchanged suspicious glances, their instinct warning them that something wasn't right.

—Are you sure, Felipe? You look pale.

— More than it already is. — Kaito joked, trying to bring a little humor.

Felipe felt cold sweat break out on his forehead as he struggled to maintain his composure.

— Oh, it's just... I... I... I'll be back soon, don't worry. Will not be long! — He replied, before quickly walking away.

Kaito and Akimiro watched in bewilderment as Felipe ran towards the school building, his hurried footsteps echoing through the courtyard.

Meanwhile, Felipe ran through the school corridors, his urgency increasing with each step. He knew he had managed to outwit his friends for now, but he couldn't ignore the growing urgency in his stomach. Determined to reach the bathroom in time, he increased the pace of his run, hoping to reach salvation before it was too late. As he ran through the school corridors, Felipe felt increasingly desperate. His heart was pounding in his chest, and the persistent sound of his stomach growling seemed to echo through the empty hallways like an urgent alarm.

However, because it was his first day of school, Felipe didn't know the school and didn't know how to get to the bathroom. The corridors stretched out before him like a confusing maze, their signs written in Japanese looking like incomprehensible scrawls to his inexperienced eyes. He tried to follow the signs, but soon realized he was going in the wrong direction.

- Where is the bathroom? — Felipe muttered to himself, his voice full of anxiety. He looked at the signs written in Japanese, but the letters seemed jumbled and indecipherable. - I can not understand anything!"

With his stomach growling louder and time running out, Felipe dazedly walked back down the hallway, his clumsy steps echoing through the oppressive silence. Every corner seemed to bring a new wave of despair as he struggled to find the bathroom that would bring him long-awaited relief. In his growing desperation, he even mistook a closet for the bathroom, opening it expectantly only to be greeted by the familiar smell of books and school supplies.

— Oh, no... That's not the bathroom!", he exclaimed, frustrated, as he closed the door tightly. With a groan of frustration, Felipe continued his search for the bathroom, his hopes for relief now frayed and fragile. He He knew he needed to find that bathroom before it was too late, but every second felt like an eternity in his fight against time and his own growing agony.

Every corner seemed to bring a new wave of despair as he struggled to understand what the signs were indicating.

- Why is it so hard? — He mumbled, his voice choked with increasing anguish.

With his hopes of finding the bathroom frayed and fragile, Felipe continued his frantic search, praying that he would find much-needed relief before it was too late. After a harrowing search full of obstacles, Felipe finally spotted a familiar icon: a small drawing of a doll indicating the men's bathroom. His heart gave a leap of relief as he recognized the universal symbol.

- Finally! — He celebrated, with a sigh of relief, as he hurried towards the bathroom door. His steps were now driven by a mixture of gratitude and joy, as it finally seemed like his torment was about to end. With a quick gesture, he pushed open the bathroom door and entered the familiar and comforting environment. The gentle sound of running water, the cold of the tiles, and the familiar smell of cleaning products filled his senses, bringing a sense of profound relief.

— Ah, what a relief! — He exclaimed to himself, as he quickly headed towards one of the cabins.

The boy pushed the door of a cabin, but it didn't open. He tried opening the doors of the other cabins one after another, only to find them all firmly locked. His desperation grew with each fruitless attempt, while the persistent growling of his stomach only intensified.

- It can not be! — His voice filled with frustration and despair. He tried to push the doors harder, hoping that one of them would give way, but they all remained motionless and inaccessible. - Please please!

Every second seemed like an eternity, and the feeling of panic began to take hold of him as he found himself surrounded by locked cabins on all sides. He looked around for some hope, his eyes frantically scanning the inside of the bathroom for a way out. Every heartbeat felt like an echo of his own anxiety as he fought to control the growing sense of despair.

Finally, after a series of failed attempts, his eyes settled on a door with the handle slightly lowered. With a sigh of hope, Felipe quickly approached, his hopes renewed as he saw a possible way out of his growing anguish. With a sigh of relief, he opened the door, hoping to find the relief he had been searching for.

However, as soon as his eyes fixed on the interior of the cabin, Felipe jumped back, his heart beating even faster than before. Instead of the Western toilet he was used to seeing, he was faced with a hole in the floor, the typical traditional Japanese toilet, a completely foreign sight to him. His eyes widen in disbelief as he hesitates to take the next step. Time seems to drag by as he fights internally against the urge to relieve himself and the refusal to use that type of toilet.

Being stunned for a moment, Felipe blinked several times, unable to believe what he was seeing. He stared at the hole in the ground with a mixture of bewilderment and disbelief, his mind struggling to process the unexpected situation.

—What...what is this? — muttered Felipe, his voice wavering with the shock of discovery. He looked around the cabin, looking for any sign of familiarity, but all he found was the strange Japanese toilet before him.

Felipe, this time, looks around the bathroom, desperately looking for any alternative, but all the stalls are locked and the urgency to go to the bathroom only increases. With a heavy sigh, he turns back to the Japanese toilet, an expression of revulsion mixed with despair.

- I do not believe this! — He mumbles to himself, his voice shaking with anxiety. — I can't use this... no way!

He takes a tentative step towards the toilet, but his determination is quickly replaced by a gesture of refusal. He shakes his head vehemently, as if trying to deny the reality before his eyes.

— No, no, no! I am unable. I can not do this. —His voice shaking with the mixture of fear and embarrassment. He felt vulnerable and exposed, his mind struggling to come to terms with the idea of using the strange device before him.

Your stomach revolts even more, sending waves of discomfort throughout your body. Felipe closes his eyes for a moment, fighting the conflicting sensations in his mind and body.

Finally, after a moment of agonizing hesitation, he makes a decision. With a resigned sigh, he approaches the Japanese toilet and prepares to face the unknown, knowing that he has no other choice if he wants to alleviate his distress.With a heavy sigh, Felipe locks himself in the cabin, feeling embarrassed for being in such an uncomfortable situation. He looks at that hole in the ground before him, his mind struggling to accept the need to use it.

— It's going to be okay, Felipe! — He whispers to himself, trying to comfort himself. — You just need to do this quickly and get out of here.

With a hesitant movement, he lowers his shorts to his knees, his face flushed with embarrassment, and squats over the toilet, feeling awkward and out of place in that unfamiliar posture. The boyHe feels terrible discomfort when squatting, his legs shaking slightly with the effort. He tries to adjust the position, moving back and forth, but the discomfort only gets worse, making him feel even more self-conscious.

— How can people... wear this every day? — He mumbles to himself, his voice shaking with frustration.

His face is now completely red with embarrassment, and he feels more lost than ever. He wishes he could disappear right then and there, escape the awkward situation he finds himself in. But he knows he needs to overcome his discomfort if he wants to alleviate his distress. With a resigned sigh, he forces himself to remain in that position, hoping that everything will be over soon and he can get out of there.

— Everything will be fine, Felipe. Just a few minutes of discomfort and then everything will be fine. — He thought to himself, trying to find some comfort in the idea, ignoring the physical discomfort in favor of solving his urgent need.

However, his relief was brief. A new wave of discomfort hit him full force. Felipe frowned, his heart sinking in his chest as he realized the terrible truth.

—What...what is this? — She exclaimed, her voice choked with disbelief. He looked down, his eyes widening in horror as he realized the true nature of his affliction.

Constipated. The word echoed in his mind like an ominous bell, filling him with despair and discouragement. Constipated. He was constipated. His stomach turned at the revelation, and a wave of disbelief and denial flooded his mind.

- No! It can not be! I can not believe this! — He felt a mixture of frustration and disbelief come over him. — This can't be happening to me!

He refused to accept the reality before his eyes, feeling even more embarrassed and uncomfortable than before.

Felipe struggled to process the disturbing revelation, his mind spinning in confusion and disbelief. He felt helpless in the face of the situation, unable to understand how something like this could happen on his first day of school in Japan. With a heavy heart and shame burning in his cheeks, he knew he needed to face reality and move on. But for now, he found himself stuck in a spiral of embarrassment and disbelief, not knowing how to deal with the situation he found himself in. He felt helpless and defeated, his hopes of relief dashed in the face of the cruel reality of his condition.

With a heavy heart and stomach churning, Felipe found himself facing an even worse situation than before. He felt helpless and defeated, his hopes of relief dashed in the face of the cruel reality of his condition.

- What do I do now?

His mind swirled with worry and uncertainty. He felt completely lost, not knowing how to deal with the terrible twist of fate that now afflicted him. Felipe remained squatting over the strange toilet bowl, refusing to accept the cruel reality of his cold. Every moment he spent there felt like an eternity as he fought the feeling of despondency that threatened to overwhelm him. With a sigh of resolution, Felipe focused all his will on overcoming the cold that was tormenting him.

— This has to be a nightmare! — He closed his eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath to find the courage he needed to face the challenge before him. - All good! I can't give up now — He thought to himself, his determination strengthening with each passing second. He knew it would be an uphill battle, but he was determined to fight to the end to get rid of the cold that was afflicting him.

With a concentrated effort, Felipe began to focus on his breathing, seeking to ease the tension in his body as he prepared to face the problem head on. Every breath was a reminder of his relentless determination, a silent promise that he would not be defeated so easily.As the cold persisted, Felipe felt increasingly desperate and helpless. He struggled in vain, pushing and trying to alleviate the discomfort, but nothing seemed to work. His face was contorted into an expression of anguish and frustration.

- Let's go! — He murmured to himself, his voice full of determination as he pushed. He closed his eyes for a moment, focusing on his goal of getting rid of the constipation. However, as he tried, a feeling of growing frustration enveloped him. Every effort seemed to be in vain, and he began to realize that the constipation was more stubborn than he imagined. With a heavy heart and shame burning in his cheeks, Felipe continued to fight, even though he knew that his chances of success were getting smaller and smaller. He felt trapped in an endless cycle of discomfort and despair, not knowing how to escape.

As the cold persisted, Felipe felt himself sinking deeper into an abyss of embarrassment and despair. Every movement, every effort to relieve himself, seemed to only make the situation worse, making him more and more uncomfortable and embarrassed. His face was flushed with embarrassment and frustration, his hands shaking as he fought the constipation that trapped him in his discomfort.

- This is not working! — She admitted it. Her voice reflected her growing frustration. He felt defeated, his hopes for relief fading before the relentless reality of his condition. With a sigh of dismay, Felipe stepped back for a moment, his mind spinning with worry and uncertainty. He felt completely helpless in the face of the challenge ahead, not knowing how to deal with the constipation that was tormenting him. - What do I do now? — His voice carried despair. He felt lost, knowing that no one could help him out of this situation, because, at that moment, he was on his own.

— I can't stay here forever! — He muttered under his breath, his voice choked with distress. Increasingly despondent, he felt as if he were trapped in a nightmare from which he could not wake up. When trying to force relief, Felipe let out small moans of agony.

— This is so embarrassing! What torture!

He looked around the bathroom, feeling enclosed by the walls that surrounded him. The feeling of helplessness consumed him as he was faced with the terrifying possibility that his condition would never improve. Every breath was a painful reminder of his desperate situation, Felipe struggled to find a way out of the maze of anguish that surrounded him. He knew he needed to find a way to overcome his constipation, but the fear of the unknown paralyzed him. Droplets of sweat began to run down his forehead, mixing with the tears of anguish that threatened to form in his eyes. He held on to the iron bar in front of the toilet, his only anchor amid the overwhelming discomfort.

— I'm going to die here! — He murmured, feeling completely helpless. Every time he tried to relieve himself, the constipation only seemed to get worse, turning into an unbearable torment that seemed to have no end.He felt like he was sinking into an abyss of despair, with nothing but his own agony to accompany him.

As time passed, Felipe's constipation only worsened, turning into a real torment. Each attempt to relieve himself only seemed to intensify the discomfort, leaving him increasingly distressed and desperate. Felipe was in agony, his breathing becoming more rapid and shallow as the discomfort intensified. He clenched his teeth tightly, trying to contain the moans of pain that threatened to escape his lips.

- This can not be happening!

He held on even tighter to the iron bar in front of the Japanese toilet, his fingers white from squeezing. Every muscle in his body was tense, fighting the overwhelming discomfort that was consuming him from within.

— Please... stop... this! — He begged in a hoarse whisper, his words echoing in the suffocating silence of the cabin. But his prayers seemed to go unanswered, and the constipation persisted, leaving him at the mercy of his own agony.

Felipe's anguish was palpable, his breathing becoming irregular and interrupted by muffled groans of pain. He writhed in the bathroom stall, trying to relieve himself of the discomfort, but it all seemed in vain.

— This is unbearable! — He exclaimed, his voice full of agony and frustration. - What's happening to me?

Despite the storm of discomfort that enveloped him, Felipe gathered his last reserves of strength and determination. He refused to give in completely to despair, even as every fiber of his being begged for relief. With superhuman effort, he tried to concentrate, tried to find a way to endure the excruciating pain that consumed him. Every breath was a challenge, every movement a battle against the agony that threatened to consume him completely.

- I can not give up! — He muttered to himself, his voice wavering but determined. — I have to continue... I have to find a way to overcome this...

As time passed, Felipe's cold intensified, turning into a searing pain that engulfed him completely. Every moment was an unbearable agony, and he found himself immersed in a sea of suffering that seemed to have no end. Every movement was a stab of pain, every breath a muffled groan of anguish. Felipe writhed in the bathroom stall, his hands gripping the iron bar so hard that his fingers began to go numb.

- There! — He groaned, his voice choked by the intense pain that consumed him. Each movement was like a stab to his body, and he writhed in agony as the pain intensified with each passing second. He clenched his teeth tightly, trying to suppress the groans of pain that threatened to escape. — That hurts so much! — He complained, expressing a mixture of pain and despair. Every breath was a challenge, and he struggled to find some relief from the torment that wracked him. — What unbearable pain! — He pleaded in a distressing whisper, his prayers lost in the emptiness of the silent bathroom. — I just wanted a peaceful day, and look where I ended up!

Felipe's cold was getting worse and the pain intensified. An overwhelming feeling of embarrassment was beginning to settle in him. Every moment was a battle against the shame that enveloped him, and he felt increasingly exposed and vulnerable in the face of the challenging situation in which he found himself.

— I swear I will sue my own body for cruelty. This is a violation of human rights!

With a sigh of frustration, Felipe desperately tried to use his hands to spread his buttocks, hoping to alleviate some of the discomfort. However, his efforts were in vain, as the constipation persisted, making every movement an unbearable agony. Every attempt to move his hands was like hitting a brick wall, and Felipe felt like he was fighting an invisible and relentless enemy.

With his hands still pressed against his buttocks, Felipe felt defeated, his hope slipping through his fingers. He knew he needed to find a way to overcome this ordeal, but for now, all he could do was continue fighting the pain that consumed him. With a sigh of frustration, Felipe gave up using his hands, realizing that his efforts were in vain.

— I don't belong here. — The feeling of being in a strange environment, in an unfamiliar position, only intensified his anguish. He felt like a stranger in his own body, lost in a sea of discomfort and embarrassment.

As the constipation persisted and the pain intensified, a growing sense of shame began to infiltrate his being. Every moment was a fight against exposing his vulnerability, and he felt increasingly embarrassed by the situation he found himself in. He lowered his head, unable to face the reality of what was happening.

— This is so shameful! — With his voice choked by the weight of the embarrassment that enveloped him, he felt exposed and vulnerable, as if everyone around him could see his anguish. — I shouldn't be going through this.

As he squatted on the strange Japanese toilet, Felipe's cold seemed to intensify with each passing moment. Every movement was a fight against the growing pain and overwhelming discomfort, making him even more embarrassed by the situation and every moment was a painful reminder of his vulnerability, making him even more uncomfortable in his awkward position.

Felipe clutched at the fabric of his gym shorts, a desperate attempt to find some form of comfort amidst the torment that was wracking him. However, even the familiar touch of the fabric couldn't ease the agony that consumed him, leaving him even more ashamed of his inability to deal with the situation.

Determined not to be defeated by the constipation that afflicted him, Felipe prepared to continue fighting, determined to find a solution to his affliction, no matter how difficult the path before him.

As the situation dragged on, Felipe began to feel increasing discomfort due to the unusual position in which he found himself. Every moment that passed seemed to intensify this sensation, leaving him even more disturbed by the situation he found himself in.

— This is getting more and more uncomfortable. — He mumbled to himself, his wavering voice reflecting his growing agony. He felt out of place, like he was violating some unwritten rule by using the toilet while squatting.

Every movement was a painful reminder of his vulnerability, and he struggled to find some comfort amid the discomfort that wracked him. "I shouldn't be going through this...", he thought, his mind clouded by self-criticism and growing anguish. As he tried to focus on relieving the pain that was plaguing him, Felipe found himself increasingly disturbed by the sensation of being in this strange position. The agony was overwhelming, enveloping him in a whirlpool of uncertainty and discomfort. Felipe found himself consumed by an overwhelming feeling of self-criticism and self-contempt. "I can't believe this is happening to me...", his mind clouded with anguish and growing discomfort.

As he tried to find some solace amid the chaos of emotions that overwhelmed him, Felipe could barely contain the tears of despair that threatened to overflow. Persistent constipation only increased the severity of the situation, enveloping him in a spiral of unbearable pain and discomfort. Every moment was a painful reminder of his vulnerability, leaving him even more helpless in the face of the agony that consumed him. And then, a strange sensation began to spread through Felipe's right leg. An uncomfortable, frightening numbness that made him shiver with apprehension.

- I don't believe!

Each new spasm of pain was like a bolt of lightning, and Felipe felt as if he were being electrocuted from the inside.

The numbness only increased his feeling of helplessness, leaving him even more distressed about the situation he found himself in. Increasingly weak and exhausted, Felipe struggled to find a way to alleviate his discomfort, but the relentless pain continued to torment him mercilessly.

Amid growing despair, Felipe fought the urge to ask for help. He felt too ashamed to allow anyone to witness his distress, and the thought of revealing his situation to others only increased his sense of isolation and helplessness. "No, I can't... I can't let anyone know." However, the question soon came to mind: how could someone help you? His torturer was his own body. He would have to face the situation alone. Remembering that fact was like a painful reminder of his loneliness. As a result, Felipe began to fear that his strength was not enough to overcome the challenging situation in which he found himself.

— I can't go on like this! — He whispered, distressingly, making his words sound like an echo of the despair that dominated him inside. The feeling of being trapped in a battle he couldn't win was overwhelming, leaving him feeling completely defeated and helpless. — I don't know what to do anymore! — He whined. This time with words full of resignation and sadness.

With a heavy heart and eyes full of tears, Felipe knew he needed to find a solution, but for now, all he could do was accept his vulnerability and wait for an opportunity to get out of this complicated situation. With his leg tingling more and more and his cold insisting on not improving, Felipe found himself literally trapped there, squatting, as if he were in a trap. Every minute felt like an eternity, and the growing discomfort only intensified his embarrassment. Every moment was an ordeal, and Felipe felt as if he was being turned into a statue of pain and embarrassment, unable to move or escape the situation he found himself in.

— I just want to disappear from here!

Every second that passed was torture, and the feeling of helplessness enveloped him like a suffocating fog. Looking around the bathroom stall, his eyes desperately searched for a way out, but all they found was a reflection of his own discomfort. He felt like he was entangled in an invisible web, unable to free himself.

— How did I end up in this situation?

Every time he tried to move, a new flash of pain shot through his tingling leg, reminding him of his desperate condition. It was as if he was trapped in his own body, unable to escape the torment that wracked him.With a mournful sigh, he braced himself to face the discomfort and pain that was yet to come, determined to find a solution to his constipation, even if it meant facing the toughest battle of his life.

As the feeling of despair intensified, Felipe desperately tried to find a solution to his distress. Every effort was in vain, and the anguish that dominated him grew with each passing second. With a sigh of frustration, he came up with the idea of using toilet paper to help his situation. However, when searching for indispensable help, a shock of disbelief hit him hard. His heart sank when he realized the toilet paper holder was completely empty.

- What? Oh no! No, no, it can't be! — The desperation grew as he frantically searched the cabin for any trace of toilet paper, but there was nothing. — No, no, no! Please don't do this to me, no! —He whimpered desperately as he searched every corner of the cabin for any sign of that essential item for that occasion, but his efforts were in vain. His eyes searched frantically, his rapid breathing echoing in the small confined space of the cabin.

— There's nothing! Anything! What am I gonna do now, man?

The feeling of helplessness overwhelmed him, and he felt as if he were trapped in an endless nightmare. Panic bubbled inside him as he struggled to process the terrifying reality of being without toilet paper in such a desperate situation.“I can’t stay like this!”. The feeling of despair intensified with each passing second, leaving him not knowing where to turn for help. Every second was torture, and Felipe felt powerless in the face of the cruel irony of fate.

As Felipe's despair reached unbearable levels, the situation seemed to take an even darker turn. A feeling of growing agony enveloped him, suffocating him with its overwhelming intensity. Every moment was torture, and the feeling of impotence consumed him relentlessly. Every part of his body seemed to protest the effort to keep going, but he refused to give up. With a last effort of will, he gathered his last strength and continued to fight the pain and exhaustion that threatened to consume him. It was then that a startling revelation crept into his consciousness: the size of his poop was at the heart of his suffering. A mixture of disbelief and understanding flooded his mind as he processed this unexpected discovery.

— That's it... That's why it's so difficult! — He muttered to himself, his voice echoing with a mix of surprise and frustration. Every moment was a battle against the magnitude of his own excrement, leaving him feeling as if he were fighting a formidable opponent. — Man, what a shame!This can't be happening to me! — As the realization materialized in his mind, a wave of despair flooded Felipe. The initial shock was replaced by an overwhelming feeling of helplessness in the face of the magnitude of the problem he faced. The revelation that the size of his poop was at the heart of his suffering was almost too much to bear.

— It's too big... I don't know what to do! — his words barely audible above the sound of his own panting. — I don't... I can't take it anymore!

Holding on to the bathroom bar with a trembling hand, Felipe felt vulnerable and lost in the midst of the storm that consumed him. With renewed effort, Felipe tried to open his buttocks once more in the hope of finding relief from his constipation, but his strength seemed to desert him at the crucial moment. Each attempt was like hitting a wall of despair, and the feeling of helplessness enveloped him like a dense fog.

With the discomfort of the position increasingly unbearable, Felipe began to punch his own knees, a desperate attempt to alleviate the affliction that consumed him. Each punch was an expression of his growing frustration, a physical manifestation of the torment that was plaguing him. It was like a silent scream of pain, a desperate attempt to dispel the discomfort that seemed to grow by the moment.

As the agony persisted, a feeling of embarrassment began to creep into Felipe's mind. He imagined that Kaito and Akimiro were finding his delay strange, and this only increased his feeling of discomfort. Every minute that passed seemed like an eternity, and worrying about what his friends might be thinking made him even more embarrassed.

—Are they waiting for me outside? — Felipe asked himself in a low voice, his voice shaking with the anxiety that consumed him. He imagined the curious looks and unspoken questions that might be hovering around his friends as they waited for him. The thought of being the center of attention, even if only through the absence of it, was almost unbearable. He wondered what Kaito and Akimiro were saying to each other, whether they were worried about him or simply irritated by his delay.

The feeling of being the focus of attention, even if it was negative, made him even more uncomfortable, and he wondered how he could face his friends after spending so much time in the bathroom. The shame grew with each passing moment, leaving him feeling even more isolated in his lonely struggle.

— I can't give up now. — Every moment was a testament to her resilience, a demonstration of her inner strength in the face of challenging circumstances. — You can do it, Felipe!

With one last sigh of determination, Felipe tried again to free the muscles in his back cavity from their torturer, until his heart started racing when two boys from Physical Education class entered the bathroom. Their voices echoing in the empty space. A chill ran down his spine as he huddled in the cabin, desperate not to be discovered.

— No, no, no! Please, it can't be! — He whispered desperately to himself. His muscles were tense like violin strings, his mind a haze of panic as he waited for the inevitable moment when he would be discovered. He felt like he was being crushed under the weight of embarrassment, his skin burning with embarrassment at the thought of being caught in such a humiliating situation. — I... I can't let them see me like this!

Felipe held his breath, trying to make as little noise as possible while the boys talked animatedly. Every word exchanged between them increased the tension that built up inside him, making him even more nervous. His desperation reached a new level, his breathing becoming rapid and shallow as the pain and discomfort intensified. As the boys continued to chat nonchalantly outside, he felt like he was trapped in a nightmare that he couldn't wake up from.

— Please go away! — He whispered to himself, hoping the two boys would disappear. - Please please.

However, the boys seemed to be in no rush to leave, prolonging Felipe's agony even further. He could feel time dragging by as anxiety consumed him, leaving him feeling even more vulnerable in his cabin. Each second dragged on agonizingly as the constipation seemed to turn into a losing battle, each muscle contraction a new wave of torment for his already exhausted body.

— Oh heavens, please! — Their panicked whispers and pleas were inaudible, especially above the rumblings of the boys' conversation. - This can not be happening! It cannot!

Every second that passed without the boys leaving was an eternity for Felipe, who desperately yearned for a moment of peace and privacy. He silently prayed that the boys would finally leave, freeing him from the prison of his cabin. But, to his dismay, the boys remained there, prolonging his agony and increasing his despair. With his heart beating wildly in his chest, Felipe knew he would have to wait patiently until the right opportunity presented itself for him to leave without being noticed.

As the boys continued their conversationexcitedly, oblivious to his distress, Felipe remained motionless, keeping as quiet as possible in the hope of not attracting their attention. He held his breath, his muscles tense as he waited anxiously for the boys to finally leave.

The minutes dragged by slowly and, outside, the boys' voices continued to resonate in the bathroom, filling the space with an atmosphere of tension that was almost palpable. Every laugh, every word exchanged between the boys was a constant reminder of the unwanted presence that kept Felipe trapped in his cabin. His stomach churned with a mixture of physical pain and emotional anguish as he struggled with the avalanche of overwhelming sensations that assaulted him. Cold sweat broke out on his forehead, his skin tingling with the feeling of being on the verge of a complete collapse.

— Please, please... I can't take it anymore! I just need this to end... Please! — The boys, immersed in their lively conversation, showed no signs of leaving anytime soon. For Felipe, the content of his words was irrelevant; all he wanted was to free himself from the distressing situation he found himself in. - Please please! — He repeated silently, his hands shaking slightly as he clung to the hope that the boys would finally decide to leave.

Felipe's heart jumped into his throat when he heard the sound of the cabin door moving. His eyes widened in panic when one of the boys leaned against the door, as if he was about to enter.

- Please! Please! No, no, no! — He groaned in a whisper of despair, as he shrank further into the cabin.

The boy's presence so close to him increased his feeling of claustrophobia, as if the walls were closing in around him. Every beat of Felipe's heart was a deafening drum in his ears as he awaited the inevitable moment of discovery.

— Please, please go away!

His stomach was churning with anxiety, his hands shaking as he fought to remain calm in the face of the imminent threat of discovery. Every second that passed seemed like an eternity. The boy outside was still leaning against the door, as if he was pondering something. OFelipe's discomfort increased with every second. The constipation persisted, and he felt increasingly distressed at the impossibility of solving his problem right then and there. He felt like he was on the edge of an abyss, about to fall into a bottomless pit of humiliation.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, with a muffled sigh of relief, Felipe heard the boys finally leaving the bathroom. The sound of his retreating footsteps echoed through the bathroom, bringing a brief moment of calm amidst the agony he was experiencing.

- Thank you thank you! — He murmured to himself, his voice choked with relief and gratitude.

Now alone again, Felipe felt a mix of emotions: relief at being free from the presence of the other boys, but also an overwhelming feeling of helplessness in the face of his situation. His constipation persisted, and he knew he needed to find a way to deal with it before he could get out of that cold, uncomfortable place.

With renewed determination, Felipe took a deep breath and tried to focus again on his solitary fight. As time passed, Felipe's feeling of shame only increased. He felt helpless and embarrassed by the situation he found himself in, and tears began to stream down his cheeks, silent witnesses of his anguish. Each tear that fell was an expression of his physical and emotional pain, a manifestation of all the frustration and despair he was facing at that moment. He felt alone and helpless, unable to control the circumstances that had led him here.

While adjusting his gray shorts, a distressing thought crossed Felipe's mind: physical education class should have started a long time ago. Kaito and Akimiro are probably surprised by your delay and must be worried. Shame came over him as he realized that everyone was in physical education, living their normal lives, while he was stuck in a bathroom, fighting an impossible cold. A feeling of vulnerability and helplessness came over him. He felt isolated and powerless, unable to participate in activities like other students. The idea of being the center of attention, even for such an embarrassing reason, made him even more distressed.

— They must be worried... I should be there with them, but...

The feeling of being trapped in such an embarrassing situation was overwhelming. Felipe wondered if he would be able to get out of there in time to avoid any more unwanted questions. But for now, he was alone, fighting a lonely battle against his own condition.

The pain was getting worse and Felipe already felt exhausted from trying so hard in vain. He refused to believe he would lose the battle over his own poop. He tried in vain to suppress the groans of pain that threatened to escape his lips, but it was a losing battle against the growing intensity of his distress. Each passing moment seemed to prolong his suffering even further, each breath a struggle to find a brief moment of relief. He fervently wished he could escape the prison of his own pain, but he was trapped in an endless cycle of agony and despair.

— This... this hurts so much! I can not take it anymore!

Amidst that scenario of pain, anguish and embarrassment, Felipe begins to have a crisis of a lost foreigner. A Brazilian teenager trapped in the bathroom of a completely unknown school and no one even spoke his language due to his cold, in an uncomfortable position, with no one to ask for help, as his tormentor was a huge turd in collusion with his own body, trapping him there uncomfortably while normal life continued outside. It was just him for himself there in that situation. Then Felipe realizes that a Brazilian teenager lost in Japan is much more difficult than it seems, especially in this situation.

As tears continued to stream down his face, Felipe found himself enveloped by a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions. He cowered inside the small bathroom stall, feeling ashamed and powerless over the situation he found himself in. Each sob that escaped his lips was an expression of his physical and emotional pain, a palpable manifestation of all the frustration and despair that consumed him at that moment.

- What the hell! In Brazil I would never go through something similar! Did I really have to go through this hell so far? — He mumbled with his voice choked with crying. Every word was carried with the weight of his indignation and disbelief at the cruel irony of fate that had placed him in that humiliating situation. - I don't believe! I can't believe I'm losing a battle to my own poop, man! This is humiliating! It's ridiculous, just ridiculous!

While suffering from constipation, Felipe found solace in his memories of Brazil. He remembered the sunny days in his hometown, the laughter shared with his friends, and the comforting feeling of being home. It was as if memories of the past enveloped him in a warm embrace, offering him a temporary refuge from the harsh reality he found himself in. Each memory was like a soft light amidst the darkness of his current situation, a comforting reminder that despite all the challenges he faced, there was still a place where he truly belonged. He found himself reliving precious moments from the past, as if he were watching a movie in his mind, and for a brief moment, he forgot about the difficulties that surrounded him.

— If only I could be there now! If only I could feel the familiar comfort of being at home, instead of this loneliness and discomfort...

Despite the physical distance that separated him from his homeland, Felipe knew that his homeland would always be in his heart, a place where he came from and where he could always return. It was this certainty that helped him endure the difficulties of being away from home, even in the most difficult times like the one he found himself in now.

However, while delving into his memories of Brazil, a sudden cramp caused Felipe to be abruptly pulled out of his patriotic reverie. A sharp pain ripped through his left leg, sending waves of discomfort through his entire body. He squirmed involuntarily, trying to ease the intensity of the pain, but only managed to increase his distress as he found himself trapped in an even more uncomfortable position.

- There! There! There! What is happening? Why does everything hurt so much?

Each movement seemed to increase the intensity of the pain, and Felipe felt overwhelmed by a sense of helplessness as he struggled to find a way to ease his suffering. The cramp seemed to intensify the already unbearable pain of his constipation, and he found himself at the mercy of two sources of torment that merged into a single, agonizing experience.

— Cramp? Oh no! Cramp, no! Please do not! This can not be happening! Why is everything getting worse?

Every breath was a struggle, every movement torture, and Felipe felt consumed by the feeling of helplessness in the face of the overwhelming pain that enveloped him. He wondered how it would be possible to endure another moment of that agony, how it would be possible to find a way out of the downward spiral in which he found himself. Every second that passed was an eternity, and Felipe felt himself being dragged into an abyss of despair as he struggled to bear the pain that consumed him. He felt like a castaway on a sea of torment, adrift in a relentless storm that threatened to swallow him whole.

- Oh dear! Please make this end soon, please!

But his prayers fell on deaf ears, and Felipe found himself alone in his agony, with no hope of finding relief in the midst of the storm that surrounded him. He knew he was facing the toughest challenge of his life, and only time would tell if he would be able to survive it. With his left leg firmly held in a desperate attempt to ease the searing pain of the persistent cramp, Felipe felt an overwhelming sense of helplessness come over him. Every muscle in his body seemed to be protesting in agony as he struggled to find some relief from the torment that consumed him.

- I think I'm going to die! — He whimpered, his words drowned out by the convulsive sob that shook his entire body. — This will be the end of me!

Tears welled up in his eyes again, a torrent of conflicting emotions that threatened to engulf him completely. He felt ashamed for losing a battle to something as trivial as constipation, and this shame only increased his distress as he struggled to find some solace amid the chaos that surrounded him. Constipation was more than a mere physical discomfort for Felipe; it was a cunning enemy that left him vulnerable and powerless. His own body, which should have been his ally, was now ruthlessly turning against him, causing pain and embarrassment.

— Why is my own body doing this to me? I... I should be in control, but it feels like I'm at the mercyfrom him!

The feeling of impotence was overwhelming, leaving Felipe with a feeling of helplessness in the face of his condition. As he struggled to find a solution to his discomfort, he wondered if he would be able to overcome this internal enemy and regain control over his own body., which was supposed to be his temple, but now turned into his own prison, denying him the freedom and comfort he craved.

He looked around, as if waiting for someone to appear to confirm that it was all a terrible mistake. But there was no one there but himself, and the cruel reality of his situation hit him with overwhelming force. The shame that enveloped him was overwhelming, a dark cloud that suffocated him and left him breathless. He felt exposed, vulnerable, as if all his deepest secrets had been revealed for the world to see. He continued his lonely fight against constipation, his resolve being tested at every turn by his body's relentless persistence.

Every movement was a choreography of discomfort, his muscles tense and his features contorted in agony. Every attempt at relief was like slamming into a wall of pain and humiliation, leaving him even more desperate for a moment to breathe. The cramp persisted, causing Felipe to writhe in pain as tears ran down his face. Every breath was an ordeal, every movement an unbearable agony.

- I wanna go home! — He cried through sobs, his voice choked with suffering. — Please, get me out of here... I can't take it anymore! — The pain intensified with each moment, like sharp claws tearing through his tense muscles. — I just want my house!

As the pain consumed him, he began to have vivid memories of his teenage life in Brazil. Memories of the house where he grew up, the laughs with friends, the warm hugs from his family... Everything seemed so distant now, as he faced this lonely ordeal in a bathroom that was completely foreign to him. Felipe's tears ran down his face, mixing with the expression of pain and despair that consumed him. As the cold persisted and the pain in his legs intensified, he felt increasingly vulnerable and helpless. His memories of life in Brazil now seemed like a distant dream, a source of comfort lost in the midst of suffering.

Suddenly, the memory of the old boys who bullied him echoed in Felipe's mind, bringing up feelings of indignation and sadness. He imagined their mocking voices, their cruel laughter echoing in his head, as he fought the constipation that left him in agony.

— If they knew... if they knew what I'm going through right now, they would love it! — Felipe muttered to himself, his voice full of bitterness and resignation. — They would laugh at me, mock my pain... like they always did.

The image of the boys mocking him, pointing fingers and making nasty comments, was like a cruel blow to his already suffering heart. He felt small and powerless, as if he was reliving all the moments of humiliation and pain he had experienced in the past.

With a sigh of frustration, Felipe tried again to spread his buttocks with his hands, hoping to alleviate some of the discomfort he felt. However, his efforts were in vain, and he found himself once again facing the relentless resistance of his own body.

— Why doesn't anything work? Why does everything have to be so difficult?

Each failed attempt only increased his agony, leaving him more discouraged and exhausted. He felt like he was trapped in an endless cycle of pain and discomfort, unable to find a way out. YourHis breathing began to become more agitated, his chest rising and falling in an irregular and rapid rhythm. Each breath was accompanied by a heavy sigh, heavy with the weight of the exhaustion and frustration he felt. His body shook with the continued exertion and persistent pain, and he felt as if he was fighting a losing battle. Every time he tried to find some relief, it was as if he only found more obstacles in his path, leaving him more exhausted and discouraged.

Felipe looks down, between his legs, feeling embarrassed and incredulous at the embarrassing situation he finds himself in. His eyes fix on the Japanese toilet, where the obstacle seems bigger than ever, challenging him in ways he never imagined. He shakes his head in denial, as if he hopes it's all just a passing nightmare. Every time he looks down, the sight of the towering challenge before him only heightens his sense of discomfort and inadequacy. He closes his eyes for a moment, trying to shake off the feeling of shame that consumes him, but the image persists, haunting him with its unwanted presence.

Felipe, even with part of his torturer having a petrified part outside his completely painful anus, tried to get up, but his efforts were in vain, barely managing to lift himself a few centimeters. The constipation gave no respite, and the pain persists relentlessly.He lowered his head and rested his face on his crossed arms, resting on his knees.

— I can't even get up! I'm stuck here! It's like everything is conspiring against me!

After a few seconds immersed in his arms, breathing heavily, Felipe holds on tightly to the iron support, seeking some kind of stability in the midst of his distress. He decides to count to three, trying to gather the courage to face the challenge before him. With a deep breath, he starts counting, each number marking the rapid rhythm of his heart. "Um..." he mutters softly, feeling the tension build inside him. “Two…” he continues, his voice shaking slightly as he prepares for the next step. "Three..." he finishes, his determination reaching its peak, ready to face whatever comes next. With his muscles tense and his mind focused, Felipe searches for a solution to his distressing situation. Every moment feels like an eternity as he fights.

With a glimmer of hope emerging amid the despair, Felipe watches expectantly as he feels the poop move slightly. His eyes fixate on the area between your legs, eager for any sign of progress. Every small movement is met with a mixture of relief and apprehension as he anxiously awaits a favorable outcome.

- What? I don't believe! Could it be... could it be a sign that I'll finally be able to get rid of this suffocation?

Felipe feels a twinge of hope when he notices a slight movement in his stomach. Eyes wide, he focuses on the sensation, hoping it's a sign of relief. Carefully, he takes a deep breath and tries to focus on relaxing, hoping that will make the process easier. Cautiously, he begins to apply light abdominal pressure, his muscles tense with anxiety. His eyes are fixed on the toilet bowl, waiting for the crucial moment when the cold finally subsides. Time seems to drag by as he waits, his heart beating fast with anticipation. Every second is an eternity, and Felipe can barely contain the growing wave of hope that threatens to overflow.

— Please, let this torment be over!

With his breath hitched by tension, Felipe prepares for another attempt at relief. Hopeful, he grabs the iron support in front of him and counts to three:

- One two three....

He strains, pressing the muscles in his anus to push his tormentor out of his body. Yet everything remains still and silent. A feeling of frustration begins to settle in his chest, but he refuses to give up.

— Come on, you can do it, Felipe. Once again... — He closes his eyes for a moment, gathering all his determination. Then, with a determined sigh, he focuses and counts again. - One two three!

Each number is pronounced with determination, as if they were the last words of a magic spell. Felipe waits, his heart pounding in his chest, eager for any sign of progress. However, the silence persists. No movement, no sign of relief. Felipe feels defeated, as if his own strength is running out along with his hope.

- Damn it! Damn it! Damn it!

His voice comes out in a tired whisper, filled with discouragement. He puts his face back between his arms resting on his knees, feeling completely exhausted. Every muscle in his body feels like it weighs a ton, and the constipation continues to taunt him, relentless. With a sigh of frustration, Felipe tried again to spread his buttocks with his hands, hoping to alleviate some of the discomfort he felt. However, his efforts were in vain, and he found himself once again facing the cruel resistance of his own body.

— I'm going to stay here forever, man!

Felipe's breathing began to become more agitated, his chest rising and falling in an irregular and accelerated rhythm. Each breath was accompanied by a heavy sigh, heavy with the weight of the exhaustion and frustration he felt.

His body shook with the continued exertion and persistent pain. Felipe reached a point where not even the tears wanted to come out of his eyes. Every time he tried to find some relief, it was as if he only found more obstacles in his path, leaving him more exhausted and discouraged. Exhaustion was beginning to take its toll on him, his eyelids becoming heavy and his muscles feeling weak and tired.

Still, he refused to give up. With stubborn determination, he continued to breathe deeply. Carefully, Felipe once again gave small punches to his own knee, in a desperate attempt to relieve the tingling sensation that took over his numb leg. Each beat is a whisper of pain, but he persists, hoping it will bring some relief.

— Come on, leg. Hang in there, I need you in shape, don't let me down now!

Soon after, in a gesture of silent resistance, Felipe clings to the support like a shipwrecked man clinging to a piece of driftwood in a stormy sea, and decided to count to three again, trying to gather the courage to face the challenge that lies before him. . With a deep breath, he starts counting, each number marking the rapid rhythm of his heart. "Um..." he mutters with difficulty, feeling the tension build within him. “Two…” he continues, his voice shaking slightly as he prepares for the next step. "Three..." he finishes, his determination reaching its peak, ready to face whatever comes next.

With a deep sigh, Felipe gathers all his courage and decides to act. With the count completed, he prepares to face the situation with determination. Every beat of your heart echoes in your ears, echoing your determination to overcome this obstacle. With one last burst of energy, he focuses on finding a solution to his difficult jam. But, to his surprise, instead of feeling the much-desired movement of his poop, he experiences a totally different sensation. His body jerks involuntarily, and he is stunned when he realizes what is happening.

- What? No! This can't be... I can't believe it! — His weak and tired voice now expelled disbelief and shame.The feeling of ecstasy enveloped him, leaving him completely stunned and speechless, as that strange and embarrassing sensation spread throughout his body: he had an orgasm.

— I can't believe this is happening to me! — The words filled with despair and humiliation echoed through the cabin. He was completely unprepared to deal with this unexpected turn of events. His eyes widened in surprise as he recognized the sensation, though reluctant to admit to himself what had just happened.

The shame that accompanied him was overwhelming, a powerful wave that threatened to consume him entirely. Felipe flinched, wishing the ground would open up and swallow him whole so he could escape this embarrassing situation. He starts to rub his hand over his goosebumps, trying to recover from the shock as he struggles to deal with the avalanche of emotions that invaded him.

- Oh no! What was this?

His mind was in turmoil, unable to comprehend the bizarre turn of events. He felt exposed and vulnerable, desperately wishing it was all just a terrible mistake.Felipe stood there, paralyzed, as he tried to process what had just happened, feeling as if he were trapped in a surreal nightmare, an absurd twist that defied all logic and reason, causing tears to once again well up in his eyes. .

Faced with that test, that infernal suffocation, that emotional labyrinth, doubts began to emerge in Felipe's completely stunned mind, echoing whispers from an invisible ghost. He wonders if this ordeal is a kind of punishment for his past failures, if he somehow deserves this torment that consumes him so cruelly. Uncertainty surrounds you like a dense fog, obscuring your vision and clouding your thoughts.

— Am I a good person? — He asks himself amidst the turmoil of emotions that plagues him. Every doubt is like a sharp arrow stuck in your heart, a test of fire for your faith and your confidence in yourself. The words escape his trembling lips, filled with a mixture of fear and self-reflection. — Is this my punishment for my sins? Am I being punished for something I did in the past? — Each syllable, although uttered almost inaudible, seems to echo in the silent environment of the cabin, as he struggles to understand what is happening to himself.

Tears run down Felipe's face, leaving bright trails on his cheeks, as he closes his eyes in search of answers. Each sob is a sigh of agony, an expression of your inner torment.

— Is this my punishment for my sins? — He asked himself, shaking with the weight of the words. He clings to memories of his youth in Brazil, reliving each moment with an almost painful intensity. Every laugh, every tear, every choice made or not made, everything is examined for a sign, a clue that could explain your current ordeal. But as the memories unfold before his closed eyes, he finds nothing more than an ordinary boy, with dreams, fears and hopes like any other. Uncertainty surrounds you like a dense fog, mixing with the physical discomfort that consumes you, forming a veil of anguish around you.

— Please forgive me, whatever I did! — Felipe sobs, his words muffled by the convulsive crying that shakes his entire body. — I don't remember doing anything bad, but if I did something to deserve this, I apologize. Please end this punishment, I can't take it anymore. — The words come out in a trembling thread, each syllable filled with anguish and despair, echoing in the suffocating silence of that place. The sobs mix with the tears that stream down his face, and the feeling of helplessness consumes him as he struggles between physical pain and overwhelming guilt. — I can't take it anymore, please. If I did something wrong, please forgive me. I don't want to feel this pain anymore, I don't want to go through this anymore. I want to get out of here. I wanna go home. Please help me.

Each word comes out muffled by sobs, his hoarse and desperate voice echoing in the small space of the bathroom, mixing with the sound of his own suffering. The tears continue to flow, a torrent of anguish and regret that seems to have no end.

— If I can get out of here, I promise to be a better person! — Felipe murmurs between sobs, expelling fervor and despair. — I promise to be more attentive, more kind. I promise to value every moment more, every person who crosses my path. I promise to never complain about the little things again, never to lose my temper so easily again. I promise to be grateful for each day, for each breath. Please let me out of here, and I swear I will do my best to earn that second chance.

Their promises echo in the suffocating silence of the bathroom, filling the air with a mixture of hope and despair.

- I swear! If I have done anything to deserve this, I ask for forgiveness with all my heart. I don't know what I did wrong, but I'm sorry. Please help me out of this situation. I can't take it anymore, I can't stand this pain and this shame. I just want to go back home, to my normal life. I promise to be better, I promise to never complain about simple things again, I promise to value every moment. Just let me out of here, please! I beg! I beg!

Felipe clings to his legs, covered in gray socks, and closes his eyes, filled with tears.

— Why is this happening to me? Have I done something so terrible that I deserve to be punished like this? — He remembers his life in Brazil, a simple life, marked by moments of joy and sadness. He remembers the friends he left behind and the difficulties he faced moving to the other side of the world. — I just wanted to start over, try something new. Just that! But now I'm here, stuck in this weird bathroom, fighting terrible constipation. Is this a sign that I made the wrong choice?

Memories of his childhood and adolescence flood his mind. He thinks about the times he made mistakes, the times he unintentionally hurt someone, the opportunities he let slip away.

— I swear I will change, I will be a better person. — He promises himself, his voice choked with tears. — If I can get out of here, I will enjoy every moment, I will be grateful for every little thing in life.

Tears stream down his face as he continues to beg for forgiveness, not just for others, but for himself as well. The weight of shame and regret consumes him, but he knows he needs to find the strength to move forward.

— I have never felt so alone in my entire life. I'm feeling so fragile. So vulnerable.

Felipe sobs, sinking even deeper into his sadness. He was so tired, so dazed, so helpless, that, in a moment of carelessness and without warning,a fart escaped his ass, echoing through the bathroom in an embarrassing, deafening sound. The sound reverberated off the walls, filling the space with a heavy atmosphere of awkwardness. Felipe's face burned with a mix of shame and despair, his body tense in anticipation of the silent judgment he imagined hanging over him.

He huddled in on himself, shoulders hunched in a posture of self-imposed defeat. The heat of humiliation radiated from his skin, turning his body into a cauldron of conflicting emotions. Every glance at the cabin walls was a painful reminder of his vulnerability, of his condition exposed for the world to see.

- No! No, no, no! But what a disgrace! I can't believe this happened! — The words barely escaped his lips, wrapped in a thick layer of shame and helplessness. He felt small, powerless in the face of the magnitude of his own humiliation. He shifted uncomfortably, his mind spinning in a whirlwind of self-criticism and self-reproach.

The unbearable odor of his own fart makes Felipe even more uncomfortable. He wrinkles his nose, feeling sick at the unpleasant smell that permeates the bathroom air. His expression of embarrassment intensifies as he struggles to contain the urge to vomit that begins to emerge.

— What a horrible stench! —He mumbled, his voice muffled by disgust. He presses his hand against his mouth, trying to block out the repulsive smell, but to no avail. Each breath only seems to bring more of that nauseating odor to your nostrils. - I can not stand it! — He laments to himself, wishing he could escape the penetrating smell that seems to permeate every corner of the bathroom. His mind reels in a mixture of disgust and despair as he tries to think of a way to deal with the unbearable situation he finds himself in.

Every sound, every echo of the farts seemed to mock him, sending him into a spiral of self-consciousness and despair. He clenched his fists tightly, his knuckles white with tension as he fought to hold back the tears that continued to spill over. The pain of constipation increased, as if every effort he made was a sharp knife piercing his insides. Felipe clenched his teeth tightly, trying to contain a scream of agony as his body protested against the torture inflicted on him.

The pain persisted, intensifying with each moment like a relentless tide that threatened to engulf him. However, with every fiber of his being, he clung to the hope that despite the excruciating pain, he would emerge stronger on the other side. It was this belief that drove him to continue fighting, even when everything seemed lost, because he knew that, in the end, the light of hope would shine upon him, dispelling the shadows of his anguish.

Felipe felt the momentary relief of yet another fart escaping, breaking the oppressive silence of the bathroom with an embarrassing sound. For a brief moment, he allowed himself a sigh of relief, even if it was mixed with a hint of shame. However, it was what followed that caught him by surprise. While recovering from the momentary embarrassment, Felipe felt an unexpected movement in his belly. A subtle tremor, but distinctly different from before, as if something was moving within him. His eyes widened with surprise, and a twinge of hope began to grow in his chest.

Could it be that... — His voice came out as a whisper, barely audible even to himself. But the mere possibility that their fight might be ending was enough to fill his heart with a tumultuous mix of emotions.

With a groan of frustration, Felipe tries again to spread his buttocks with his hands, but before he can make any progress, another fart escapes him, echoing in the bathroom in an embarrassing sound. The stench intensifies, enveloping him in a nauseating cloud that seems impossible to escape.

This can't be serious! —he mumbled, expelling despair and disbelief. He feels like he's trapped in some kind of grotesque nightmare, where every wrong move only sinks him deeper into his humiliating situation. As he tries to deal with the disgusting odor and the feeling of helplessness that surrounds him, Felipe feels his poop move again beneath him, as if it were taking on a life of its own. His eyes widen in surprise, his heart pounding against his chest as he struggles to comprehend what is happening. He grips the iron bar tighter, as if he is holding on to a cliff at the edge of an abyss, desperately trying to maintain his sanity amidst the chaos that surrounds him.

With a feeling of growing desperation, Felipe realizes, embarrassed, that it is his own farts that are causing the strange movements of his poop. He feels even more embarrassed by the bizarre situation he finds himself in, unable to believe that his own passing of gas is contributing to his discomfort.

— No, no, no! Please, not that! — Increasingly aware of the suffocating smell that hangs in the air, he turns to try and escape the cloud of stench, but is confronted with the unforgiving reality of his situation. — No, I don't believe I'm going to have to submit to this! No! I refuse... Ouch! — Before he could complete his complaint, Felipe was interrupted by another loud fart, increasing the bad smell that spread throughout the cabin.

However, withWith each fart that escaped, Felipe felt a new sensation of relief course through his tense body. Every sound made was like a small victory, a step closer to the liberation he so longed for. He allowed himself a slight smile, recognizing the essential role these gases were playing in his fight against constipation.

— Those fart crap are really working! — His words, although still filled with shame, were filled with gratitude and surprise. He would never have imagined that something as simple as a fart could become his ally in this epic battle against his own body. With new determination, Felipe decided to surrender to this unlikely strategy, letting the farts escape freely whenever he felt the pressure building up inside him. Each expulsion of gas was like a small victory, a constant reminder that he was in control, even in the most adverse circumstances.

— This is surreal! How is it possible that something so unpleasant is contributing to the end of this torment? — He feels disgusted with himself, unable to understand how something as ordinary as a fart could be related to such an extraordinarily uncomfortable situation. The irony of the situation is not lost on him, and he finds himself lost in tumultuous thoughts about the absurdity of his own condition. — It's like the universe is having fun at my expense!

With his hand covering part of his face, Felipe feels a mixture of disbelief and despair as he contemplates the possibility of having to resort to farting to finally relieve himself of the discomfort of that long, dry poop.

— This is simply absurd!

Although indignant, FelipeHe continued his battle feeling grateful for having found a way to alleviate the discomfort that afflicted him. Each fart was like a small ray of hope amidst the darkness of his agony, guiding him towards the light at the end of the tunnel. With each exhale of gas, he felt his body relax a little more, tensions and fears dissolving into a haze of relief. He knew he still had a long way to go, but now, with his new ally by his side, he felt like he could face whatever challenge fate had in store for him. With each fart released, Felipe felt a mixture of relief and surprise flood his tense body. As he wiped away his tears, he couldn't help but laugh at the irony of the situation, making a joke about his lonely battle with his own body.

— Who knew my best weapon would be... farts? — He joked to himself, his smile mixed with a touch of disbelief. It was almost as if the universe was sending him a message, a small dose of humor to ease the burden of his agony. — Who knew I'd be here, competing with myself in a race to... well, free what needs to be free.

With new enthusiasm, he continued to push, feeling the coconut moving more and more with each effort. Every movement was a testament to his unwavering determination, a constant reminder that he was stronger than any obstacle life threw at him. Despite the persistent pain and continued discomfort, Felipe found the strength to continue fighting, fueled by the hope that he would soon be free from the torment that afflicted him. Each fart released was a small step towards ultimate victory, a confirmation of his ability to overcome the most challenging odds.

As time passed and his battle intensified, he clung to the hope of a better future, a future free from the prison that confined him to the bathroom. With each fart, he moved closer and closer to that future, his spirit determined to triumph over all odds.

— Well, at least now I've found a new use for those farts! — He tried to force himself to play a game to distract himself, letting out a slight smile despite the awkward situation. He realized how surreal his condition was, as if he were participating in an improvised comedy skit on an invisible stage.

Each fart was a note in an improvised symphony, an accidental performance in an unlikely setting. The resonant sound filled the bathroom with a unique melody, a mix of humor and desperation that seemed to echo off the walls themselves.

— At least I'm making music in the bathroom!

As he contemplated this irony, a feeling of lightness settled in his heavy heart, as if for a moment he could transcend his situation and find some comfort in the absurdity of it all. It was as if, by finding humor amidst the chaos, he could find a small chink in the armor of his own anguish.

The brief pause of relief was abruptly interrupted by the return of searing pain, a relentless reminder that the battle was not yet won. Felipe felt as if his body were being torn apart by agony, every muscle tense and every nerve pulsing with agonizing intensity. With a muffled groan, he forced himself to continue, each breath accompanied by the exhausting effort of his solitary struggle. Every moment felt like an eternity, every movement an uphill battle against the relentless forces of nature.

— Get off me, you pest! — The oppressive stench of the bathroom continues to hang in the air, a constant reminder of your suffering. Every breath is torture, every second feels like an eternity as he once again faces the challenge before him. With renewed determination, but also an overwhelming feeling of exhaustion, Felipe prepares for what is to come. His thoughts are cloudy, his mind clouded by pain and discomfort, but he knows he can't give up now.

Pain reverberated through every fiber of his being, his body crying out for mercy as he refused to give in to despair. Every muscle was tense, every ounce of his strength focused on a single goal: to free himself from the oppressive yoke of his constipation.

He pushed, harder, and even harder, as if his life depended on it. Every sigh was a wail of anguish, every bead of sweat a testament to his tireless determination. He felt like he was in a marathon, racing against time and all odds. And then, finally, he felt it. A subtle tremor, almost imperceptible at first, but soon intensifying into an overwhelming sense of relief. His body writhed in a mixture of pain and ecstasy, a cacophony of conflicting sensations that left him dizzy with excitement.

With a mix of determination and embarrassment, Felipe encouraged himself, his thoughts plunged into a tumultuous mix of relief and embarrassment. Every moment was a battle, every breath a painful reminder of her own vulnerability. But he refused to give in to despair, his resolve unwavering like a burning flame in the midst of darkness. With a Herculean effort, he continued to struggle, clinging to the cabin's support as if it were his last anchor of hope. Every movement was a test of his willpower, every groan a visceral expression of his lonely struggle.

The poops were big, so big that they almost seemed like an insurmountable mountain in front of him. But Felipe didn't back down, he didn't give up. He focused on his ultimate goal, his only thought being to free himself from the oppressive yoke of his constipation. With each effort, he felt progress, even if it was slow and painful. Every inch gained was a victory achieved with blood, sweat and a lot of determination. And even as groans of anguish escaped his lips, he continued, his spirit unwavering in his quest for freedom.

— Go, Felipe! — He encouraged himself in the midst of all that torment. - You can!

Such self-soothing was a constant reminder of his commitment to himself, a solemn promise that he would not give up, no matter how difficult it was. And so, he persisted, his body tense with effort, his mind focused only on the end goal.

- I'm almost there. — Felipe stopped trying to breathe for a few seconds. His breathing was labored, as if he had been submerged in a pool for almost two minutes. Then, with groans, he continued: — Just a little more!

His muscles burned, his breathing labored, but he continued, each movement driven by the determination of a fighter in his last battle.As if going through labor, Felipe fought a herculean battle that seemed to last an eternity, even though it was only four minutes. Every moment was a trial, every effort a demonstration of his inner strength. He fought against the pain, against the embarrassment, against all odds, determined to overcome the constipation that imprisoned him.

With a groan of pain mixed with a sigh of relief, Felipe feels the huge poop finally slide out of his anus. Every inch felt like an eternity, every moment torture as he fought to expel the intruder from within. He breathed heavily with his eyes closed. The first sign of relief had arrived. He looked between his legs and saw it there, big, completely dry. A torturous creature that looked like a meteorite coming out of him. He prepared for the next one, aware that if the first one was already out, the other two would be less difficult.

— This... is... almost over! Just a little more!

Every movement is agony, every contraction of his muscles a supreme effort as he struggles to free himself from the burden that afflicts him. Tears stream down his face, a mixture of pain, relief and exhaustion. Every breath is an effort, every moment a battle against the overwhelming discomfort that consumes you from within. The second poop came out. It took about three minutes: one minute less than the previous one.

With a deep groan, he focuses on summoning his last reserves of strength, determined to overcome this last obstacle. Every breath is a burden, every movement torture, but he refuses to give up. Hope burns within him, a fragile flame that refuses to be extinguished.

— Just one more... — He mutters to himself, his words a fragile whisper in the heavy air of the bathroom. Every moment feels like an eternity, every second a relentless torture as he fights to expel the last vestige of his ordeal. His body shakes with effort, his hands shake with tension as he clings to the last thread of hope. Every muscle is tense, every nerve is on the verge of collapse, but he stands firm, determined to achieve final victory.

The last coconut approaches slowly, as if reluctant to leave Felipe's body. Every inch feels like an eternity, and Felipe feels like he's on the edge of the abyss, struggling to hold on as he faces his latest ordeal. Every part of his being is immersed in this moment, his mind and body united in a common goal - to free himself from the torment that has consumed him for so long.

And then, with a final sigh of relief and a groan of triumph, Felipe finally manages to give birth to the last coconut. A mixture of pain and relief floods his being as he sinks into deep exhaustion, his journey finally coming to an end. But even in the moment of his release, he knows that the battle has left its mark, that the scars will remain as silent witnesses to his heroic fight against the relentless constipation. A low-pitched moan of pleasure echoes through the cabin. Felipe had finally given birth to his torturers.

- I achieved! —he exclaims, his words filled with a mix of exhaustion, relief, and triumph. Every cell of his being is vibrating with the intensity of the experience as he surrenders to the ecstasy of the moment. Tears begin to flow down Felipe's face, a mixture of pain, gratitude and pure emotion. He can hardly believe that he has finally overcome this ordeal, and an overwhelming wave of relief washes over him as he allows himself to relax for the first time in endless hours of suffering.

Panting and shaking, he begins to shake his white shirt to try to mitigate the heat in his body caused by the effort.while letting everything crash down on him. Every muscle is exhausted, every fiber of your being feeling the weight of what has just happened. But despite it all, there is a sense of triumph, of indescribable accomplishment, that washes over him as he finally allows himself to take a deep breath and savor the sweet victory over the cold that has consumed him for so long.

- Thank you, thank you, thank you!

there was a sense of gratitude that permeated his soul, a gratitude for having overcome such a difficult challenge. And while the embarrassment persisted, he knew that ultimately this experience would make him stronger, more resilient.

- He finished! I Survived! He finished!Ahhh!

Felipe felt a mix of emotions. The relief of overcoming the cold was undeniable, but the embarrassment of the situation he found himself in still consumed him. All the trouble scenes played in his head, tormenting him, as he tried to recover emotionally. Although this left him embarrassed, he realized that the cramp in his leg had already gone and his numb leg had also improved. Felipe was happy to notice these small signs of recovery, an indication that everything would be fine in the end. Finally, after having been squatting for so long, an extremely uncomfortable position for him, as he was not used to it and had evacuated like this for the first time, he decided to stand up. As he slowly stood up, he felt the stiffness in his muscles protest the movement after so long in the same position.

Felipe felt intensely grateful as he stood up. He would never have imagined that something so commonplaceit had so much value. Being stuck crouching down with a colossal boulder stuck up your ass is not something people think they will experience any time soon. He looked at the three piled up turds, now physical proof of the battle he had just fought. A sense of triumph and relief enveloped him as he faced his achievements with pride.

- I won! — He muttered to himself, his words echoing in the silence of the bathroom. It was a simple statement but full of meaning, a reminder to himself that he was capable of overcoming any challenge, no matter how difficult. Each poop represented a victory over adversity, a testament to her strength and resilience in the face of circumstances. He felt a shy smile form on his lips as he reflected on the journey he had just taken. Despite all the discomfort and embarrassment, he had emerged victorious, ready to face whatever fate had in store for him next.

With his nose wrinkled due to the strong odor that fills the room, Felipe extends his foot to the flush button and activates it with a light touch. The sound of water gushing echoes through the bathroom, accompanied by the comforting sound of the flush being activated.

— Go to hell, you bastards! — Felipe grumbles, as he watches the water draining from the toilet, taking with it the remnants of the discomfort and shame he had just faced. He takes a deep breath, trying to push the distressing memories of that moment out of his mind and focus on the present, on the feeling of liberation that now surrounds him.

After reveling in the freedom he had lost for an indefinite amount of time, in Felipe's mind, a vivid film begins to unfold, depicting every moment since he entered the bathroom. He finds himself in front of the corridors lost with an uncontrollable urge to defecate. Every detail is sharp. He remembers the moment he felt the initial discomfort, the slight pressure in his stomach that soon intensified. Worry began to grow as the pain became more acute, but he tried to ignore it, attributing it to a simple temporary indisposition. Upon entering the bathroom, the urgency became unbearable, and he found himself faced with the cruel reality of an impending cold.

Each step towards the cabin makes you more aware of your vulnerability, of the feeling of being at the mercy of an invisible and implacable force. Inside the cabin, he vividly remembers the desperate struggle against constipation, the groans of pain and failed attempts to alleviate the discomfort. Every moment is torture, every movement a reminder of his helpless state. Shame wraps around you like a cloak, suffocating you with humiliating, self-deprecating memories. He finds himself trapped by his own condition, unable to escape the endless cycle of pain and embarrassment. Even now, as he slowly recovers from the ordeal, the weight of shame continues to weigh on him, reminding him of his fragility and vulnerability before the forces of nature and fate.

Every moment of his lonely struggle with constipation came flooding back like vivid flashes in his tortured mind. He found himself squatting on the cold floor, his muscles tense with exertion, his face contorted in agony as he fought the implacable enemy within himself. Each failed attempt to find relief, each sigh of frustration, was like a blow to his already wounded pride, a painful reminder of his own weakness. Embarrassment enveloped him like a dark cloak, tightening his chest and suffocating his hope. Each shameful memory hit him like a physical blow, knocking the breath out of him and making him question his own sanity. He felt small and helpless in the face of the magnitude of his humiliation, a helpless victim of his own circumstances.

In a hoarse and low voice, almost a whisper to himself, Felipe pronounced the words that echoed in his tormented mind:

— If this was a punishment, then I was punished very well! —Each syllable carried with it the weight of its own irony, a dark reflection on the ordeal he had faced. He felt as if he were being judged by his own demons, condemned to humiliation and suffering as punishment for his own sins. The echo of his words reverberated in the silence of the bathroom, a solemn declaration of his own resignation. — I swear I don't know what I did to deserve this, but I learned my lesson. — There was no remorse in his voice, just a resigned acceptance of the fate that had been imposed on him. He felt like a penitent before an invisible altar, ready to pay the price for his own mistakes and transgressions.

After reveling in his victory in that physical battle with himself, Felipe let himself be carried away by a moment of triumph. However, his joy was quickly replaced by lingering worry. He felt like he was forgetting something. That's when he realized what was going on:

— Ah, the toilet paper. Another item for my misfortune!

A feeling of discomfort began to creep into his chest, mixing with the previous euphoria. He again searched the cabin for the essential object, but his hopes were soon dashed when he realized that there was not even an empty roll or worn-out sheets on the floor. A wave of frustration hit him as he struggled to deal with the reality of his situation. Victory seemed less sweet now, overshadowed by the urgent need that confronted him.

He found himself faced with a perplexing dilemma: How would he solve this problem without the essential resource? His mind raced frantically in search of solutions, but each thought only increased his feeling of helplessness. He felt panic begin to seep through his veins as he struggled to find a way out of this increasingly desperate situation.

Desperation began to set in, and Felipe felt time passing in an agonizing way as he desperately tried to find a solution. Every second that passed was an eternity, and the feeling of urgency only increased.

As he fought his growing despair, an idea began to form in his mind. It was risky and unlikely, but it seemed to be his only hope. With a resigned sigh, he mentally prepared himself for what came next. With his shorts awkwardly pulled down around his knees and his heart in his chest, he walked out of the stall and looked around, checking to see if he was alone in the bathroom. His breathing was rapid, his heart pounding in his chest as he prepared to act.

Felipe approached the locked cabins with a sense of urgency and anxiety. He could feel the cold sweat forming on his forehead as his mind raced a mile a minute, imagining the worst possible scenario.

— Please, let no one come in here now! — He whispered to himself, his voice shaking with the intensity of his agony. — I can't get caught like this!

Fear consumed him as he imagined the embarrassment of being caught in such a vulnerable situation, like an ostrich with its head buried, with its ass completely exposed. He felt exposed, naked in front of the world, and the idea of someone seeing him like this was almost unbearable. With his heart beating wildly in his chest, he finally forced himself to look under the cabins, a mixture of hope and fear mixing in his chest. Relief flooded him when he saw the way was clear, but the embarrassment persisted, weighing on his conscience like an anchor. With slow, uncertain steps, he returned to the cabin, his mind swirling with possible solutions.

With a heavy sigh of resignation, Felipe returned to the cabin, his shoulders hunched under the weight of disappointment. The absence of toilet paper was just another setback in his tortuous journey into that unfamiliar bathroom. Each step felt more difficult than the last, fraught with the frustration of yet another obstacle on his path to freedom.

He felt lost, trapped in a maze of discomfort and embarrassment. Each failure pushed him deeper into the spiral of despair, leaving him sinking into an abyss of discouragement. With a heavy sigh, he leaned back against the cabin wall, eyes closed in a vain attempt to escape the grim reality that surrounded him. But there was no escape, only the painful reality of their desperate situation.

Wrapped in his own misery, Felipe felt as if he were sinking in a sea of despair, the waves of anguish threatening to engulf him at every moment. He clung to the fragile hope that somehow he would find a way to overcome this humiliating ordeal. But for now, he was alone, fighting the relentless currents of adversity.

A heavy silence hung over the bathroom, which now seemed like a torture chamber for Felipe. Each shameful memory echoed in his mind like an ominous echo, dragging him back to the moments of pure embarrassment he experienced while battling his intestinal problems. Every image, every sensation, every anguished sigh seemed to manifest itself before his eyes, as if the past was unfolding before him in a cruel display.

Felipe's embarrassment seemed to intensify with each passing second, like a dark shadow that enveloped him, slowly suffocating him. Every thought, every memory of the last few hours, was like a sharp dagger that pierced his soul, leaving him vulnerable and exposed to his own shame. He felt as if every unseen look, every unspoken word echoing off the bathroom walls, was a silent judgment of his failure. It was as if the bathroom itself, with its cold tiles and locked stalls, was a merciless court, condemning him for his own weakness and inadequacy.

Every breath was a heavy sigh of despair, every heartbeat a painful reminder of his own helplessness. He felt like he was shrinking under the weight of his own shame, like he was sinking into an abyss of self-condemnation. And in the midst of this whirlwind of tumultuous emotions, Felipe struggled to find a spark of hope, a reason to keep fighting the tsunami of embarrassment that threatened to swallow him whole. But try as he might, the dark shadow of embarrassment seemed to wrap itself around him ever tighter, threatening to suffocate whatever shred of courage or self-esteem he had left. Felipe's thoughts were tangled in a web of doubts and uncertainties, each question echoing in his mind like a sinister echo. He found himself before an inner court, where his own conscience was the implacable judge, ready to render a cruel verdict on his own morality.

—Do I deserve this? — She questioned herself, her words echoing in the suffocating silence of the bathroom. The sound was almost deafening in its loneliness, a constant reminder of his lonely struggle against the inner demons that haunted him.

Searching his memory for answers, he could not find any evil act or egregious error that would justify such a storm. Every memory of his life in Brazil, every familiar face, every moment of happiness and sadness, revealed nothing more than an ordinary man, facing life's challenges like any other.

— What did I do to deserve this? — He asked, his words filled with anguish and uncertainty. He felt like he was trapped in an endless nightmare, struggling to find a way out of the darkness that surrounded him. Apprehension grew in his chest, a suffocating anxiety that threatened to engulf him completely. He felt lost in a maze of self-questioning, where each path led to a new spiral of doubt and confusion.

With a new sense of determination, Felipe turned his attention to the most immediate problem at hand: the lack of toilet paper. He forced himself to focus on the task at hand, momentarily pushing aside the worries and reflections that had consumed him until then. After all, there was still a practical challenge to be faced, and he was determined to overcome it no matter what.

His green eyes roamed every corner of the small cabin in search of a solution to his dilemma. Desperation was mixed with a hint of disbelief at the absurd situation in which she found herself. Every detail of the environment now seemed amplified, further highlighting the lack of options. The idea of using one of his socks or even his underwear to clean himself seemed absurd, but desperate situations called for desperate measures. However, the thought of sacrificing a piece of clothing for this purpose was a barrier he was reluctant to cross.

However, his hopes were quickly dashed when he noticed the absence of a trash can in the cabin. It was then that he remembered a sad fact: in Japan, toilet paper is thrown directly into the toilet, not in the trash like in Brazil, which means there would be no need for a trash can there at all. The discovery brought a glimmer of hope amid the darkness of his situation, but it also confronted him with the inevitability of what was to come.

— Great, one more obstacle!

With a new sense of purpose, Felipe took a deep breath and prepared himself to deal with the situation in the best way possible. Even in the face of adversity, he refused to succumb to despair, choosing to face the challenge head on, with courage and determination. First, he decided to carefully check the pockets of his clothing for any resources he could use. However, his search revealed only one disheartening result: his pockets were empty, there was nothing that could help him in his task.

- What the hell! — The feeling of helplessness returned with full force, like a wave that threatened to swallow him at any moment.

With renewed determination, he turned his attention to his own shorts, looking for some alternative that could help him solve his problem. He examined every detail of the fabric, looking for any sign of hope he could find. It was then that his eyes fell on something he had previously overlooked: a small cloth tag sewn onto the inside waistband of the shorts. With a glimmer of hope in his eyes, Felipe gently pulled the tag away, revealing a small piece of fabric that had been carefully sewn there.

— I think... I think this could work!

Carefully, he tore off the piece of fabric from the tag, turning it into a makeshift substitute for toilet paper. It was a simple solution, but at that moment, it was all he had. With the improvised replacement in hand, Felipe took a deep breath and prepared to face the challenge ahead. He knew it wouldn't be easy, but he was determined to overcome this adversity and come out of this situation with his head held high. It was time to put your plan into action and move forward, step by step, until your problem was resolved.

With the improvisation in hand, Felipe felt an overwhelming mixture of embarrassment and shame. The idea of using a torn piece of fabric as a substitute for toilet paper seemed ridiculous and embarrassing, but he had no choice but to go through with his plan. Every movement was accompanied by a feeling of discomfort, as if the entire world was watching his steps and judging his actions. He felt exposed, vulnerable in the face of his own desperate situation. With shaking hands, Felipe prepared to carry out the task at hand, trying to block out the negative thoughts that threatened to dominate his mind. He forced himself to focus on the present, on the immediate task that needed to be accomplished, ignoring the imaginary eyes he felt on him.

— Go, Felipe! can you do that! — He whispered to himself, trying to encourage himself. Every movement was a challenge, every gesture a battle against the shame and embarrassment that threatened to consume him completely. With dogged determination, Felipe moved forward step by step, facing his fears and insecurities with courage and resilience. He knew it wouldn't be easy, but he was determined to overcome this obstacle in his path.

And so, with determination and willpower, Felipe faced the challenge ahead, each step more difficult than the last. He refused to give up, even when all seemed lost, and found strength within himself that he didn't even know he had. Taking a deep breath to calm his nerves, he folded the tag carefully, trying to avoid overthinking what he was about to do. Each movement was slow and deliberate, as if he were trying to delay the inevitable any longer.

— I can't believe I'm doing this!

Finally, with the label properly folded, Felipe prepared to use the improvised substitute for toilet paper. He forced himself not to think about the possible consequences of his action, focusing only on the immediate task that needed to be accomplished.

— It's just one more thing to add to the list of strange moments in my life!

With a resigned sigh, he leaned forward, trying to find the best position to perform his task. Every moment was a fight against the shame and embarrassment that threatened to overwhelm him, but he refused to give up.

— I will remember this for the rest of my life! — She murmured with words full of resignation.

With shaking hands, he pressed the tag against his skin, trying to be as gentle as possible to avoid any further discomfort. Every movement was accompanied by a feeling of uncertainty and insecurity, but he forced himself to continue. He tried hard not to think about what he was doing, focusing only on the arduous task of cleaning himself up as best he could under the circumstances. Every touch of his skin tag was a painful reminder of his bad luck and the embarrassment he was facing. However, he knows he has no other option than to move on and try to resolve the situation the best way he can.

Finally, when everything was said and done, Felipe felt a mixture of relief and embarrassment. He looked at the now dirty tag on his hands, a vivid reminder of his lonely struggle with constipation. Felipe's face contorts into an expression of disgust as he looks at her, remembering what he just did. With a quick and decisive gesture, he throws the tag into the toilet.

— I hope I never have to do that again! — He thought to himself, wishing that this experience could be erased from his memory forever, something he himself knew was impossible. Felipe remained motionless for a moment, absorbing the magnitude of the situation he found himself in. — I hope my friends never find out about this. They'll think I'm weird! — The feeling of embarrassment still hung over him, heavy like a dark cloud on a rainy day. He knew that this would be a difficult story to forget, a memory that would haunt him for a long time.

With a mournful sigh, he slowly straightened up, feeling the stiffness in his muscles like a physical reminder of all the agony he had been through. Every movement was a fight against pain and discomfort, but he refused to give up. With one last look at the now dirty tag on the toilet, Felipe made a decision. He would not allow that experience to define who he was or what he was capable of achieving. It was time to leave the past behind and move forward, towards a future full of possibilities and opportunities. He lifted his shorts, which rattled due to the lightness of the fabric, and pressed the flush with his foot, watching the tag slide through the water and disappear forever.

With a hesitant movement, he turned the door handle and stepped out of the cabin, washed his hands and looked at himself in the mirror: the reflection of misery, shame, disgust. He shook his head as he slapped his face to bring himself back to reality and left the bathroom. The hallway was empty, the muffled sound of laughter and conversations coming from other rooms echoed throughout the room. Felipe took a deep breath, trying to gather the courage to face the world outside. He knew it wouldn't be easy, but he was determined not to let that experience define him. He was stronger than that, and he was determined to prove it to himself and others.

With steady steps, he walked down the hall, his mind filled with conflicting thoughts and emotions. He knew the journey ahead would be difficult, but he was determined to face it head on, ready to face any challenge that came his way. As he walked down the hallway, Felipe felt the weight of embarrassment still on his shoulders, as if he were carrying a backpack full of shame. Every look he received from students seemed to penetrate deep into his soul, as if he could read their every thought and emotion.

—Do they know? — He asked himself silently, his inner voice echoing with uncertainty. — Can they see through me, see what happened in the bathroom?

He tried to maintain his composure, trying to appear as normal as possible, but inside he was a mess of emotions. The shame he felt was like a dark cloud hanging over his head, obscuring any ray of hope or confidence.

Felipe approached the court with quick steps, his heart beating a little faster than normal. He hoped his appearance didn't betray the discomfort he felt inside. As he approached, he saw Kaito and Akimiro sitting on the bench near the entrance, talking animatedly. With a forced smile on his face, Felipe approached his friends.

- Hey guys! — He greeted, trying to sound as casual as possible, trying to disguise his agitation, forcing a smile. - I went back!

Kaito and Akimiro look at each other at Felipe's sudden arrival.

- Philip? Where have you been, man? — Akimiro asked, with a worried voice.

— You ran out of here without giving any explanation! Did something happen?

Felipe looked around, trying to find a convincing answer to give to his friends, but he ended up not coming. Therefore, he appealed to the most generic justification possible:

- Yes I am well. I just... I just had... I just had one problem there, but everything is fine, don't worry! — Felipe finished his answer with a forced smile.

Kaito raised an eyebrow, while Akimiro looked confused.

- Problem? What happened? — Kaito asked, his expression revealing a mixture of curiosity and concern.

Felipe swallowed hard, trying to find a plausible excuse.

— Oh, nothing serious! — She replied, her voice sounding a little strangled. — I just... had to sort out some things.

Akimiro frowned, clearly suspicious.

— Are you sure you're okay, Felipe? You're paler than when you left here! Not that you aren't already natural, but at this level it's already too much. — He observed, his penetrating gaze probing Felipe for any sign of weakness.

Felipe swallowed again, struggling to maintain his composure.

— I'm fine, really. — He forced a smile, hoping his friends didn't notice the tension in his voice. Felipe quickly looked around, observing the other boys packing their things and getting ready to leave. Without understanding, he turned to his friends: — What happened? Why is everyone leaving? Was the class cancelled?

Kaito and Akimiro exchanged confused looks before Kaito replied:

— Class is over, man. It's been about fifteen minutes.

Felipe was shocked by the news, his mind racing to understand how he could have wasted so much time.

- What? Like this?

Kaito and Akimiro watched Felipe with inquisitive expressions as he approached, and as soon as he began to speak, the two friends exchanged worried looks.

- Why the surprise? It was obvious after running away without saying anything and disappearing all this time. Where were you, man? — Akimiro asked, with a tone of disbelief in his voice.

Felipe swallowed hard, trying to formulate a response that wouldn't reveal the real reason for his prolonged absence.

— Oh, I... I was in the library. — He replied quickly, his tone somewhat hesitant.

Akimiro raised an eyebrow, clearly skeptical, while Kaito couldn't contain an ironic smile when Felipe mentioned the library as an excuse for his absence.

- Oh, really? Is Physical Education class now in the library? I didn't know we were changing environments so drastically,” he said, his voice tinged with sarcasm.

Felipe felt a flush of embarrassment creep up his face when he realized the absurdity of his lie being highlighted so clearly by Kaito. He swallowed hard, trying to compose himself as he fought to maintain his facade of normalcy in the face of his friends' critical eyes. Feeling increasingly cornered by Kaito and Akimiro's persistent questions, Felipe desperately tried to rectify his initial lie about being in the library. With a flash of inspiration, he quickly suggested:

— Well, actually... I was in the library, but only because I needed to get a book before it closed. — He said, his words coming out in a rush in an attempt to justify his absence. — But then I ended up getting distracted, you know... — he added, his wavering voice reflecting his growing nervousness.

However, before he could elaborate further on his unlikely excuse, Kaito and Akimiro continued with their incisive questions, leaving Felipe even more uncomfortable and prone to embarrassing himself in his own lies. He felt a cold sweat run down his spine as he struggled to maintain his composure in the face of his friends' intense scrutiny.

— So, where is that book you wanted so much to get? — Kaito asked, his gaze fixed on Felipe, as if he was trying to penetrate the layers of his lie. — Because from what I can see, you don't have any books with you.

Felipe felt a lump form in his throat as he frantically searched for a convincing excuse. His heart pounded in his chest, the sound echoing in his ears like a constant reminder of his growing anxiety.

— Uh, the book... Well, you know, I... I ended up not finding exactly what I was looking for. — Felipe replied, his voice shaking as he struggled to maintain his composure. — It's just... I was trying to find a specific book, but it looks like it was borrowed or something...

Kaito and Akimiro exchanged meaningful glances, clearly skeptical of Felipe's story.

— And what was the title of that 'specific' book you were looking for? — Akimiro asked, his voice full of distrust. — Who knows, we can help you look.

Felipe felt cold sweat running down his forehead as he tried to think of an answer that could satisfy his friends without revealing too much.

— Oh, it was... um... 'The Lost Chronicles of Antiquity'! — He replied, his words coming out in a rush in a last-ditch effort to support his lie.

Akimiro crossed his arms, looking straight into Felipe's eyes with a serious expression.

— You had all morning to get this supposed book from the library, Felipe. — He said, with a tone of distrust evident in his voice. — Also, remember we showed you the library early in the morning? Why didn't you get the book at that time? This just doesn't make sense.

Felipe swallowed hard, feeling increasingly cornered by his friends' incessant questions. He stumbled over his words, trying to come up with a convincing excuse, but his mind felt like a mess of lies and distorted truths.

Felipe felt the weight of Akimiro's words like a silent accusation, an unrelenting pressure that made him even more uncomfortable. He knew he couldn't keep dodging his friends' questions, but the thought of admitting the truth was overwhelming.

— Well, it's just... — began Felipe, his voice wavering as he struggled to find a plausible excuse. — I, um, wanted to check out some other books first before I make up my mind. And... And I ended up getting distracted, you know how it is.

His words came out in a hurried stream, his hands sweating as he fought to keep his face calm. However, it was evident that his explanation was far from convincing.

Kaito and Akimiro exchanged meaningful glances, as if sharing a silent understanding. They knew something wasn't right, and they were determined to find out the truth.

— Interesting... — muttered Kaito, his casual tone contrasting with the intensity of his gaze. — And didn't you find it strange that, suddenly, time passed so quickly?

Akimiro nodded in agreement, his arms still crossed as he watched Felipe with a serious expression.

Felipe's heart beat wildly as he struggled to keep his story standing before the penetrating gaze of his friends. Each question was like a punch to the gut, a constant reminder of her own guilt and shame. He knew he could no longer run from the truth, but admitting his weakness was almost unbearable.

“Well, it's just…” he began, his voice wavering as he tried to articulate a plausible excuse. — I... I ended up getting distracted by... some notes I found, you know? And... and when I realized it, time had flown by.

— Ahem, notes... — muttered Kaito, an ironic smile playing on his lips. — Interesting, because I didn't see any notebooks or papers when you got here.

Felipe felt a chill run down his spine, his mind racing in search of an answer that could satisfy his friends.

— Well, it's just... — he began again, his voice sounding weaker now. — I... I left the notes in the living room closet, so as not to carry extra weight here.

Akimiro crossed his arms, an incisive gaze fixed on Felipe.

— But what about the fact that we passed through the hallway when we went to fill our water bottles and we didn't see you anywhere? — he questioned, his voice cold and calculated. — Isn't it a little strange that you were 'looking for notes' and we didn't even see you?

Felipe swallowed hard, his mind spinning in search of a way out. He knew he couldn't keep lying any longer, but the idea of admitting his weakness was too scary.

— It's just... it's just that I... I had to go to the teachers' room to ask for information about the book. he stuttered, his words coming out in a hurried stream of apologies. — And... and then I was a little late, you know?

Kaito raised an eyebrow, his disbelieving look leaving no room for doubt.

— And why didn't you tell us this before? he asked, his tone skeptical. — It seems like you're making excuses as we question you.

Felipe felt a lump form in his throat, his mind a mess of fear and anxiety. He knew he couldn't continue this charade any longer, but the thought of confessing his weakness was almost unbearable. However, Akimiro sighed as he picked up his backpack from the floor next to the bench.

- All good. Just let us know next time. You missed the opportunity to meet the teacher.

Felipe felt a mix of relief and surprise at Akimiro's response. He hadn't expected the conversation to take this turn, and the mere idea of having escaped that awkward situation left him momentarily speechless. Taking a deep breath, he finally found his voice.

— Thank you, Akimiro. I will be more careful and more attentive next time.

A feeling of relief spread through his body, dispelling some of the anxiety that had consumed him moments before. He knew that even if the situation was still uncomfortable, at least he would no longer have to struggle to hide the truth from his friends.

The sun was beginning to set over the horizon, staining the sky with shades of orange and pink as students filed out of school. Kaito, Akimiro and Felipe were walking along the boardwalk together, when Kaito had an idea.

— Hey, guys, how about we go to karaoke after class?

Felipe looked at the ground for a moment, feeling the weight of fatigue that had accumulated throughout the day.

—Actually, I'm tired. I think I'd rather go home today. The first day of school was really hard for me, and I need to get some rest.

Kaito and Akimiro exchanged worried looks, noticing the tired expression on Felipe's face.

— Are you sure everything is okay, Felipe? — Akimiro asked, with a noticeable tone of concern.

— Yes. — Felipe nodded, trying to smile to reassure his friends. - Everything is fine. I'm just a little exhausted. But don't worry about me.

- OK, if you say so. But if you need anything, just call, right?

— Of course, it was worth it. But I'll be fine. I just need to get some sleep!

— Understood. Take care, man.

Felipe thanked his friends and said goodbye, feeling a mix of gratitude and frustration. He wanted to join them in the fun, but his body cried out for rest. With one last wave, he continued on his way home, eager for some peace and quiet.

As he walked, Felipe felt as if each step was heavier than the last, as if the burden of his own shame was tied to his shoulders. Every time he closed his eyes, the images of the bathroom returned in rapid, relentless succession, as if it were a movie in his mind, replaying the moments of agony and discomfort. He could feel the cold sweat breaking out on his forehead, even as the gentle afternoon breeze caressed his face. Every time his mind turned to that humiliating situation, his stomach twisted into a tight knot of anxiety and embarrassment.

He could feel again the terrible and embarrassing moments he spent using a Japanese toilet, forcing him to adopt an uncomfortable and strange position. Every movement was a fight against gravity and against his own body, which seemed to be conspiring against him in this moment of desperate need. The absence of toilet paper was like a death sentence to his dignity, leaving him vulnerable and defenseless in the face of a battle he knew he couldn't easily win. He found himself desperately searching every corner of the cabin and his pockets for anything he could use to clean himself, but found only the cold emptiness of inevitability.

Every groan of pain and effort seemed to echo off the cramped walls of the cabin, reverberating in his ears like a constant reminder of his own weakness and humiliation. Each time she writhed in agony, she felt like she was losing a little more of her dignity, one piece at a time, until there was only an unfathomable void left. And then came to mind the moment when she considered using her own clothes to clean herself, a desperate decision in a desperate moment. He could feel the shame burning in his cheeks as he remembered the moment he ripped the tag off his shorts, resigning himself to the fact that there was no other option. Every movement was torture, every breath a painful reminder of her own vulnerability.

With his green eyes, still wet from the tears he had let escape earlier, Felipe closed himself off in his own world of reflection and challenge. letting himself sink into the darkness that now seemed to envelop him completely. A feeling of helplessness overcame him, as if he were trapped in a maze of inexplicable events. Memories of difficult moments in the bathroom flooded his mind, each image bringing with it a wave of shame and embarrassment.

— Did I deserve to go through this? — She asked herself in silence, her voice echoing only in her mind. Each step seemed to weigh more than usual, as if the weight of her doubts and uncertainties were permeating the air around her. The setting sun colored the sky with golden tones, but to Felipe, everything seemed shrouded in shadows of remorse and discomfort. — If this was a punishment... — he muttered to himself, as if his voice concretized his feelings. —So, I really learned my lesson. I can be sure I learned. Even if I don't remember doing anything bad, perhaps it's an opportunity to reflect on my past actions and seek redemption. — Every memory of the lonely struggle in the bathroom, the lack of toilet paper, the physical and emotional pain, all of it echoed in his mind like a persistent reminder of his own fragility. — Maybe this is a chance to grow, to become a better person, he continued, his voice now firmer, determination coloring his words.

In the distance, the soft sound of an urban melody filled the air, bringing with it a fleeting sense of hope.

“Yes,” he murmured finally, his green eyes fixed on the distant horizon, “maybe there is light at the end of this tunnel after all.”

He quickened his pace, determined to face whatever fate had in store for him, with renewed hope that, in the end, he would find peace and redemption. With renewed determination, the young Brazilian walked down the street towards his home, aware of all the learning he gained on that turbulent afternoon. His steps, once heavy with the weight of doubt and embarrassment, now seemed lighter, driven by the hope of a new beginning. As the sun slowly sank below the horizon, dyeing the sky with shades of orange and pink, Felipe felt a new sense of purpose blossom within him. Every corner, every streetlight he passed seemed to whisper words of encouragement to him, reminding him that even in the darkest moments, there is always a light at the end of the tunnel.

As he walked down the street, he looked up at the sky still illuminated by the evening light, filled with a tranquil and serene beauty. With a last sigh of relief, he followed his destiny, knowing that when everything is lost there is always another way.

EPILOGUE

In the stillness of the night, when all the echoes of the day had dissipated, two shadows moved like ghosts through the school corridors. Like stealthy thieves of darkness, they glided through the gloom, their forms twisting sinuously, almost like serpents on the hunt. As they approached the bathroom, tension hung in the air like a storm cloud about to collapse. With precise gestures, one of the suspicious figures reached out and, with a smooth movement, turned the door handle, as if he were opening the door of a safe. Meanwhile, his companion remained alert, watching every dark corner like an attentive guard watching the gates of a castle.

A faint creak echoed through the hallway, as subtle as the whisper of wind in the leaves of the trees. The bathroom door opened with a muffled, barely audible click, as if it were whispering forbidden secrets. Without hesitation, the two invaders entered the room, their footsteps echoing across the cold floor like the echo of a drum in the silent night.

Inside the bathroom, darkness reigned supreme, wrapping everything in its shadowy cloak. But the intruders did not waver. Like fearless explorers in a dark cave, they pressed forward, determined to uncover the secrets hidden in the shadows. With a quick gesture, one of them turned on the light, banishing the darkness and revealing his true identity. Kaito and Akimiro, now without the masks that hid them, exchanged complicit glances, sharing the excitement of their secret plan. The backpacks were deposited on the floor with a faint noise, like the sound of a sigh escaping the lips of a conspirator.

Kaito and Akimiro looked at each other, sharing a knowing laugh that echoed through the bathroom like the sound of jubilant bells. Their laughter was like distant thunder on a stormy night, filling the air with contagious energy.

— Did he really think he could string us along? — Kaito laughed, shaking his head in disbelief.

— Yes, it's serious. — Akimiro complemented his friend's sarcasm, shaking his head in disbelief. — As if we were going to believe he was looking for a book in the library.

— It's pathetic! — Kaito commented, his eyes shining with amusement. — Not even teachers fall for these stories anymore.

— But what about his last excuse? — Akimiro questioned, his expression curious. — Saying you were tired and wanted to go home? Does he think we're idiots?

Kaito let out a low laugh.

— He's really stupid. These are the dumbest ones. — Kaito commented, showing his true opinion about the foreigner to someone who spent the entire day introducing Akimiro to the school and being his company. Well, let's get to the point. — Kaito muttered words full of determination Machiavellianly as he slid the gloves over his hands, as if he were preparing to perform surgery.

His voice echoed softly off the bathroom walls, an ominous reminder of his relentless determination. Akimiro watched with a Machiavellian expression, his eyes shining with a mixture of anticipation and malice, as if he were watching a cruel spectacle unfold before his eyes.

With the agility of a feline, Kaito entered the cabin that Felipe had used earlier, moving with a sinister grace as he crouched in front of the Japanese vase fixed to the floor. His movements were so fluid and silent that they could be compared to that of a ghost, disappearing and reappearing without a trace. Then came the crucial moment, when his skilled hands removed a hidden camera from inside the vase. An object seemed so innocent at first glance, but now it was a sinister tool, an intrusion into Felipe's privacy. It was as if they were stealing an intimate secret, an act of violation disguised as a simple search for information.

— Another mission accomplished, my friend — proclaimed Kaito, his sinister smile revealing a touch of pride in the feat accomplished.

Akimiro couldn't contain his laughter, a harsh laugh that echoed off the bathroom walls, filled with the dark satisfaction of someone who delights in wrongdoing.

— This boy is more naive than we thought. — Kaito commented, his voice tinged with a tone of contempt.

— The century egg plan never fails. — commented Akimiro.

The irony in his words was evident, an evil disguised as a joke. For them, manipulation was an art, and Felipe was just another piece in their cruel game.

Kaito, with a roguish smile, kept the camera hidden in a box of pearls that he had taken from his backpack, observing with satisfaction the perfect concealment of the artifact.

— Jewelry deserves a worthy place, doesn’t it? — He commented, closing the box with a touch of elegance, while Akimiro nodded, amused.

- Definitely. — Akimiro agreed, a mischievous gleam in his eyes.

Kaito, with a mischievous look, asked mischievously:

— And you're going to give them back, right?

Akimiro, with a sarcastic smile, responded promptly while unzipping his backpack:

— Why would I return it? — When she opened the backpack, she exposed several rolls of toilet paper crowded inside. — Better leave another unsuspecting idiot with a dirty ass here.

They both shared a harmonious laugh, enjoying the irony of the situation. After Akimiro zipped up his backpack, he and Kaito put their masks back on, ready to leave the bathroom behind. In the dark and silent environment of the deserted school, Kaito and Akimiro's footsteps echoed through the corridor like the soft sound of a nighttime melody. As they approached the exit, their movements were fluid and coordinated, as if they were dancing a rehearsed choreography.

Unrest reigned in the darkness, when Kaito broke the silence with his curious question, the sound of his voice cut the air like a sharp blade, breaking the tranquility of the night:

— Do you think this one will make good money?

Akimiro responded with confident calm, his words filled with certainty and determination:

— Much more than the Mexican and the Norwegian, you can be sure.

Kaito's subtle laugh was like a sigh of relief, indicating his satisfaction with his companion's response.

Together, they disappeared into the shadows of the hallway, their footsteps echoing like a distant echo as they walked away. The silence of the night enveloped the school once again, like a dark cloak, covering up the secrets that lay within its empty walls, especially the stalls in the institution's men's bathroom.

#constipated #mens room #fiction #toilet story #gassy #school toilet #japan #brazil #japanese toilet #constipation #Squat toilet

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randomshyperson · 3 years

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Wanda Maximoff x Reader - I bet i love you

Gif if not mine, but i swear she looks prettier every time i look at her.

Summary: Prompt based from @ecruzsalaz: The one where Wanda is popular, and Reader is a nerd. The popular kids do a bet that Reader will fall in love with Wanda. Everything will be reveal after their trip.

Warnings: Light angst, kissing, teasing, underage drinking, lies, Vision being an idiot completely out of canon.

Words: 13.446 k /// Read on AO3

Notes: I don’t even know what happen here. I’m been busy and this took a lot of days to be done, but it’s finally here, hope @ecruzsalaz will be satisfied haha. Good reading everyone and apologies for any typo, it sucks to translate so many words. There are a few pop culture references, i wonder if anyone will catch those.

Marks (if i forgot your name tell me i’m lost): @mionemymind @abimess

In your last year of high school, you just wish things would be peaceful.

The previous years hadn't exactly been ideal, since you were surrounded by assholes, but you are optimistic.

Your small, select group of friends, consisting of exactly two people, who you could swear were probably the only decent human beings left in West View High School, were currently the only reason you still wanted to go to high school.

Right now, for example, you were sitting in the outer cafeteria, a book of historical fiction to escape reality plus headphones with some old rock music that you weren't really listening to, since you were so focused on the story you were reading. And then someone pulled on your headphones, and you looked up ready to complain, but the mischievous smile of your best friend Bruce Banner was all you could find.

- I've been calling you for five minutes. - He said, sitting down on the stool in front of you. You smiled, apologizing, and put your cell phone on the table. - No problem, you always do that.

You laughed awkwardly, closing the book while Bruce put his backpack on the table.

- Where is Mon? I haven't seen her today. - You tell him, but Bruce shrugs.

- Maybe her mother changed shifts again. - He comments, and you make a noise with your mouth of agreement. Whenever Maria, your friend Monica's mother, switched shifts at work, she would be late for first periods. It has been like this since primary school.

- You still haven't let me see your schedule. - You told Bruce with a slight frown, and he laughed, going through his pockets. Then he took out his cell phone, fiddled with the screen for a few seconds, and then handed it to you. You read the attached class schedule with a frown. - Bruce! You didn't sign up for half the classes you took last year?

He shrugged, running his hands through his hair.

- Yeah, I think I'll focus more on what I want for college. - He explained a little shyly. - I was getting too anxious about all that stuff. And honestly, you should have done the same.

You made a grumbling sound with your mouth, and started biting your thumbnail as you finished looking at the schedule. You would barely have any classes together. And then you handed the cell phone back to your friend.

- I would do it if I had any idea what I wanted to major in. - You tell him. - It's better to have several interests on the curriculum, so I'll have more course options.

- You can also develop burnot. - He remarked with mild irony, and you laughed, looking away.

The bell for the first class then rang, and the two of you exchanged a look before getting up. Bruce kissed you on the cheek before heading in the opposite direction, and you grumbled lightly as you picked up your book and walked to the chemistry labs.

In the hallway of the main building, a few meters before the entrance to the lab, someone bumped into you. It was one of the boys from the team, who was laughing at something his colleague said. Your notebooks fell to the floor, and the boy looked at you with contempt.

- Watch where you're going weirdo. - He warned and you rolled your eyes.

- You're the one who bumped into me, you brute. - You grumbled angrily. The boy just laughed and walked away.

After picking your books, you stood up. The athletes at your school were jerks, but you didn't blame only them for their arrogance. The rest of the school, including the faculty, treated them as gods, so they behaved as such.

Sighing with impatience, you entered the chemistry labs, wishing that the day wasn't long.

Darcy Lewis had been your chemistry partner for three years. You smiled as you greeted her and sat down next to her. You were not friends, but she was very kind and extremely intelligent. You really thought you were very lucky to have her as your partner, and then, as if the universe would like to laugh at you, Professor Nakia announced that she was switching partners.

The whole class let out a chorus of dissatisfaction, and one student asked aloud.

- Please, Professor Nakia, we have been working with the same people for three years. Why change now?

- Excellent question, Miss Quinn. - Nakia said, smiling. She was at her desk, finishing putting her materials on top. - Three years is more than enough time for you to create tricks to cheat on my exams.

The room exchanged complicit and guilty looks, and the teacher kept a serious posture.

- The school board found evidence to indicate this. - She explains. - I was very disappointed to learn that there were students cheating on the evaluation method not only in this class, but in several others. You will notice that all teachers with fixed groups will rotate them from now on. This was a decision made by the principal.

You rolled your eyes, annoyed that you would lose your amazing partner and were running the chance of ending up with someone irresponsible or slacker, just because some kids were careless at cheating. The room let out a chorus of understanding, and everyone began to move around as the teacher indicated the new groups. You ended up sitting with a guy named Vision, who you didn't really know, but you knew was quite popular because he was class speaker, and head of the fencing club.

- Hello, dear. - He greeted you as he sat down, putting his coat on the chair. Vision dressed very well; he was part of the group your classmates called "preps”, even if he was usually hanging out with jocks.

You made a noise with your mouth in greeting, but he didn't seem to mind your lack of sociability.

Fortunately, Vision was a decent chemistry partner. Although he was bossy, and had a habit of interrupting or explaining as if you were stupid, he was intelligent and knew how to do the experiments. You thought that was enough, since you would only have to put up with him in this class.

Feeling a glance at you, you raised your eyes from the notebook, and were slightly startled to notice Vision looking at you with amusement and curiosity, you frowned ready to ask what's wrong, but then he let out a dry laugh.

- I knew I knew you! - he declared. - You're the Presley freak!

Vision laughed lightly nostalgically, and you felt your face flush, turning your attention back to your notebook. He was talking about the Halloween party in freshman year, where you dressed up as Elvis Presley and the track team decided to nickname you "Presley Freak" for the next whole year. The teasing died down after a while, but Vision brought it back as if it were a good memory.

Fortunately he just shook his head with amusement, and didn't mention it again. When class was over, he didn't say goodbye on his way out, but you didn't care.

//-//

The story that all the teachers followed the new norm of switching partners was true. In History, you lost your partner Bucky Barnes to sit with Natasha Romanoff, equally quiet and intelligent. For the most part, you are satisfied with the partners you got.

But then in fourth period, biology class, you ended up partnering with someone you never imagined.

Wanda Maximoff was one of the most popular girls in school. You didn't really know her. You were classmates during elementary school, and you even became friends with her twin brother in elementary school, Pietro Maximoff, before he became a complete idiot. But other than that, you didn't know much about her. Although you had a strange sympathy for the girl. Unlike the group of girls she hung out with, Wanda never tormented you at school. Or your friends. She was probably fake and sneaky like the others, but she left you alone, so you had nothing against her.

You were pulling your biology book out of your backpack as the teacher announced the new pairs, and you stopped in mid-motion when she said Maximoff and your name.

Wanda sat down beside you the next moment, smiling politely. You shook your head slightly, dropping your backpack on the floor.

Wanda was surprisingly nice. You didn't talk about anything unrelated to the subject, but she was quick enough to catch your ironic glances when Professor Darkholme made an inappropriate comment or a funny remark, and match it with a smile or a look.

As the class came to an end, Wanda nodded slightly at you, and you smiled back before gathering your materials.

It had been four months since classes had started, and you were already used to your new partners in class.

Vision was inconvenient in many comments, as if he took pleasure in recalling your most embarrassing moments in high school, but you learned to change the subject quickly whenever this happened. All you had to do was pretend you didn't know about some subject he mastered, only to hear him explain it to you in the most arrogant manner possible for the next few minutes, effectively distracting him.

Natasha Romanoff was exceptionally sarcastic and ironic, and you sometimes you felt that she was a more aggressive female version of your former partner Bucky Barnes. She was quite individualistic, and you had to make an effort not to get left behind, or you had to constantly remind her that you were a duo, but otherwise she was a good partner, and you were happy to invite her to lunch with you, which eventually became a habit after a week.

And then you had Wanda Maximoff. You weren't friends, but you had a strange kind of complicity as biology partners. You never would have guessed that Wanda would have a sense of humor so similar to yours. Two classes in a row, and you already had inside jokes about the way Ms. Darkholme caught the attention of her students. Two weeks in, and you two knew how to cheat your way through assignments. You didn't know how to make friends, and judging by the history of who Wanda was hanging out with, you had the impression that she wouldn't want to develop any kind of relationship with you. And honestly, this was your last year, you wouldn't see these people again, so you were more than satisfied to have just one good lab partner.

With the mid-winter vacations approaching, you were looking forward to getting some rest.

Non-Reader Pov

- God, Wanda, why are you talking about that weirdo again? - interrupted Vision impatiently. His girlfriend blinked in confusion, looking away awkwardly.

- I'm just commenting on a joke we…

- Really, Wanda? - He interrupted again with an accusing look. - It seems like all you do lately is "comment" on your little jokes in class. - He sneers as he settles down on the sofa. The two of them stand together outside the school, their group of friends watching the discussion with amusement. - I don't know why you talk to her at all. She is so silent and awkward with me in chemistry class.

Wanda bites the inside of her cheek, looking forward.

- I think your girlfriend has a girl crush. - Tony Stark sneered next, making everyone laugh. Wanda frowned, feeling her heart race.

- You are an idiot. - She grumbled impatiently, crossing her arms. Vision looked at her curiously.

- Honey, don't tell me that you actually appreciate that girl? - he asks ironically, and Wanda rolls her eyes without looking at him. Vision laughs.

And then Tony is holding out a craft-paper covered bottle to Vision, and he takes a sip, coughing slightly afterwards. Wanda frowns at the scene, but none of her friends seem concerned that they are drinking during school hours, as the bottle continues to pass in everyone's hand.

- You know, I think it's sweet that you have sympathy for that freak. - Tony comments a moment later and Wanda tells him to fuck off, making him laugh.

- I think we are witnessing a beautiful love story. - Mocks Pepper, Tony's girlfriend, approaching the three of them as she sits on Stark's lap. Wanda rolls her eyes, as the group laughs. And then Vision has a thoughtful expression.

- I have an idea. - He says slightly drunk, as he throws his arm around his girlfriend's shoulders. - Let's make a bet.

Tony and Pepper let out excited exclamations, while Wanda frowns.

- What kind of bet?

- Well, you guys remember when the weirdo dressed up as Presley for Halloween, right? - he asked, and Tony and Pepper laughed, agreeing. - And then Pietro saw her kissing that girl who hang with the bikers, Jones something.

- Jessica. - Pepper clarified before taking another sip of her drink.

- Then we know she's a dyke. - Vision says, but Tony frowns.

- Wasn't she dating that guy with the long hair and the angry face?

- Barnes? - Vision asked and Tony nodded. - I don't think so. Anyway, she is into girls. - he said and the group nodded in agreement. - I mean the bet is this: I can prove that she is just like everyone else in this school. Give her a bit of our attention, and she will be completely obsessed.

- Vis, what are you talking about? - Wanda asked, and Vision laughed ironically.

- It's very simple, love. - He says. - You are hot. Everyone knows that, and even someone like her, who pretends not to be part of the social circles of this school, can see that. - He clarifies, and the group looks at him intently. Wanda doesn't say that she doesn't like being objectified, swallowing the bitter feeling in her stomach. - So my bet is that you win her over. It should take what, one or two dates for her to be completely in love with you.

The friends laugh in irony and Wanda thinks she should follow, but only a forced laugh escapes. Because of the alcohol, no one notices.

- This is ridiculous. - Wanda comments and then Vision looks at her with irony.

- Unless you're getting attached to the girl, dear. - He sneers, and the group laughs. Wanda swallows dryly, shaking her head in denial. - So, what's the problem? You'll just prove me right. And you will realize that there is nothing special about her.

- I think we can make this even more fun. - says Tony with a wicked smile. - I bet you a hundred bucks that Wanda will fall in love too.

Tony sneers and the group laughs with irony.

- As if anyone would even like that girl. - Vision declares, accepting another drink.

- How do we make sure it's working? - Tony asks and Vision bites his lip thoughtfully. Then he lets out an exclamation.

- Our trip! - he says, and then turns to Wanda. - Love, invite the weirdo to the cabin! We can watch you work.

Wanda frowns, but then the group is suggesting ideas of conquest, and laughing, and debauchery, and she hates it. But she smiles, and nods in agreement, accepting the liquor as the bottle comes into her hand.

Reader Pov

You intended to study during the winter vacations. And maybe get out of the room a little if Bruce or Monica visited. Your surprise was genuine when in your last biology term, Wanda Maximoff started talking to you about something other than the subject.

- Hey, are you doing anything this holiday? - she comments amiably. You didn't notice the looks Tony Stark was giving you two from the front seat.

- Huh... No?

- Are you asking me? - She replies with a smile. You blush, looking away at your notebook. Wanda bites her cheek, and it takes a moment for her to speak again. - I wanted to invite you to something.

You blink in surprise, looking at Wanda. She looks away from the board for a moment, as she wiggles her fingers against her own thigh.

- My friends and I are spending the holiday in a cabin. - She clarifies. - There's all this winter activities, you know. Skiing and stuff like that. I'd like you to come.

- Why? - The question slips out a little harshly, but you can't help it. Wanda looks away, and you almost apologize. But then Wanda smiles, shrugging.

- I'd like to get to know you better, I guess. - She says. - I think it would be fun if we could be friends outside of class.

You look at her suspiciously for a few seconds. But then you sigh, looking down at the notebooks.

- Alright, Wanda. - you say after a moment, ignoring the growing anxiety in your stomach. - Is it okay if I bring a friend?

- Of course! - She confirms excitedly. - You can take whoever you want, it's a big place.

The teacher gives a warning for side conversations next, and you shut up. You blush when Wanda approaches you to write down her phone number in her notebook. You are distracted enough not to notice her blushing slightly when Tony Stark gives her a mischievous look.

//-//

- So you actually said yes? - Bruce asked with surprise when you told him about the biology class, while you were having lunch together in the cafeteria. Monica had the same expression.

- Yes, and I would love it if you would go with me, because I think I am close to completely freak out. - You ask with mild desperation and your friends laugh. And then Monica is looking behind you.

- Look, I would be too. They are so... - She starts and you turn around, looking at the group of Wanda's friends a few meters away. The kids are sitting at the table, making noise with their loud laughter. One of them was throwing a football up in the air. A short boy walked past them and was pushed slightly. - I can't even define them.

You let out a grumble, laying your head on your arms on the table.

- This was a bad idea, wasn't it, guys? - you ask. - They're going to eat me alive.

- Why the long faces, nerds? - Natasha asked as she came over to the table, placing the tray of food next to Monica, staring at you.

And then your friends explained it to her, and you groaned in dissatisfaction when she started laughing.

- You've lost your mind, haven't you? - she asked wryly. - It's a trap, I'm sure.

- There's no reason for it. - You retorted, trying to eat a little. - Besides, it was Wanda who invited me. She said she'd like us to be friends.

- Look, I know that Maximoff is the least worst of the bunch. - Nat began as she opened her soda. - But she still hangs around with those idiots.

- Yeah, I know. - You agree with a sigh. And then you remember your classes. - I just... She has been surprisingly nice, you know? I think she was being sincere. It's just a trip, it's not the end of the world.

- Good to know you think that. - said Bruce. - Because I won't be able to go.

- What? - You then exclaim.

- I applied for an internship at S.H.I.E.L.D. Labs. - He remarks and you let out a grumble, remembering.

- Shit, it's true. - You say. - I completely forgot about it.

- Girl, I can't go either. - Informs Monica with a guilty expression, and you let out an exclamation. - I'm going to spend the holiday with my father.

You bury your face in your hands. And then you risk a glance at Natasha, and she laughs wryly.

- Don't even try. - She says. - Even if you paid me I wouldn't travel with Tony Stark.

- I'll pay you.

Nat laughs at your desperation, and stops eating, looking at you with surprising kindness.

- You, girl, are adorable and kind. A nerdy cute dork, and I'm sure that if that's not enough for those idiots, they're the problem, not you. - She assures you, and you smile wryly. - Don't worry about pleasing any of them, you're going to become friends with Wanda, aren't you? Try to enjoy the trip, and if anything happens, call me and I'll finish them all off.

You laugh, nodding slightly. You don't want to think so much about this trip, but you know it's going to be the only thing on your mind for the next few days.

The week ended quickly. And you were very anxious when the weekend arrived, and you received a text message from Wanda saying that she would pick you up at home on Saturday morning. You would spend the holiday at the Stark family's winter cottage, a property big enough to fit the whole group. Wanda said it was somewhere with mountains, near a lake, and you bit your lip, wondering if you should bring a bathing suit. Since it was snowing, you figured you wouldn't try to swim anywhere.

On Saturday you were up bright and early, your bags packed. You kissed your parents and your younger brother on the cheek before you left, finding a pickup truck parked in front of your house.

Wanda hugged you when you said good morning to her, and to the boys. Vision and Pietro were in this car, and she said that Tony was in the second car, and had gone for gas.

Vision drove towards the cabin next, and he tried a little small talk before shutting up. Wanda was in the passenger seat, and Vision let his hand rest on her thigh, and you didn't understand the bitter feeling in your stomach.

- God, put on some decent music! - asked Pietro, scrambling up on the seat beside you to reach for the radio.

- Leave it, Pietro! - complained Vision pushing the boy backwards. - You only want to play that emo shit!

Pietro laughed, not insisting. And Vision looked at you through the rearview mirror.

- Let's let our guest choose the music. - he said with a smile. You cleared your throat.

- Okay. - You agreed, pulling your cell phone out of your pocket. You turned on Spotify next, and when Vision asked if it would be any longer, you bit the inside of your cheek. And then you put on some pop rock.

Nobody said anything, and you thought that somehow you had just passed some kind of test. But then your set list started, and when the classic rock song from the 50's started playing, Vision burst out laughing.

- They don't call you Presley Freak for nothing. - He scoffs, switching to the radio next.

- I like it. - Wanda comments surprising you, but neither Vision nor her brother change their debauched posture.

- Yes, yes, your taste is terrible too. - He replies with irony. You bite your lips as you watch Wanda roll her eyes and look away to the window. Vision lets Pietro choose the music next.

The cabin was really very big.

You guys met Tony's car on the way, but he didn't stop. It didn't take long for you to arrive. You smiled in appreciation at Pietro when he carried your bags inside.

You looked at the structure impressed. Tony Stark really was very rich. Hugging your arms lightly after feeling the cool breeze, you smiled politely at Wanda's other friends as they greeted you.

- I am Pepper Potts, and this is Steve Rogers and Sam Wilson. - says the blonde girl cheerfully, as she waves to the other boys. - You must have met Tony by now.

- I think I've seen all of you at school. - You say feeling out of place, but they smile as they walk into the cabin. Tony hands the bags to the other boys, and then is throwing an arm around your shoulders, and you want to push him away for the inappropriate contact.

- It's a pleasure to meet you, sweetie. - He says, and you blink when you feel the alcohol. - Who knew that nerds hid pretty girls with them?

The joke makes the group laugh, and you look around uncomfortably. Tony then releases you as you enter.

Pepper is the one who shares the rooms, and you are happy to know that you won't be sharing with anyone.

While you are unpacking upstairs on your bed, Wanda joins you.

- Hey. - She greets me as she enters and closes the door. You're folding your clothes.

- Hi, Wanda.

- Is everything okay? - she asks and you nod in agreement. - They can be a bit much sometimes, and I don't want you to get uncomfortable and... Do you like "Bewitched"?

The sudden question startles you and you blink in confusion. Wanda nods at the item in your hands. The T-shirt you are folding has the logo of the old sitcom you used to watch with your parents.

- Oh yes. - You sigh in agreement. - It is one of my favorite shows actually.

Wanda laughs in surprise, crossing her arms.

- Wow, I didn't know that. - She says. - I love this stuff. Vision thinks the jokes are stupid, so don't tell him I'm talking about it.

She jokes and you let out a wry exclamation.

- Why would I tell Vision anything? - You ask and Wanda hesitates slightly, but then smiles.

- No, it was just a figure of speech. - She clarifies as you fold your shirt.

- Right. - You say, not really understanding this conversation. - If you want, we can watch it together anytime. I think we'll have time to do it here.

Wanda looks at you with surprise and excitement.

- Really? I'd love to. - She confirms, and you smile as you finish packing.

The redhead clears her throat afterwards.

- I just wanted to check on you anyway. - she says. - I think Steve is cooking dinner tonight, so join us when you' re ready.

- Okay, Wanda. - You say. - Thanks.

She smiles before leaving. You stare at the Bewitched's T-shirt on your bed for a few moments before you leave.

Steve tries to cook some chicken breast. And he almost burns the kitchen down. So you are on your feet, investigating the cupboards, and although cooking is not your favorite activity, you don't mind making some chili for everyone.

- I love Mexican food. - Wanda comments excitedly as she stands next to you and watches you cook. The rest of the group is in the living room, the boys being very noisy as they throw a soccer ball around the room. You smile at the redhead next to you.

- God, did you see the picture that Tabitha Smith posted on instagram? - Pepper asked aloud, staring at her cell phone. She was sitting on the kitchen counter, a look of disgust on her face. Wanda approached her and quickly looked at the screen. - She put on silicone, I'm sure of it.

Wanda made a noise of agreement, exchanging a quick glance with you, clearly not caring one bit about the topic, and you smiled, turning your attention back to the pot. Pepper didn't notice and continued making comments about her classmates' social media posts.

- It's ready. - You announce. Your breath catches in your throat as Wanda puts her hand on your waist, leaning behind your back to taste the food. She lets out a satisfied groan, and you feel her cheeks flush.

But then she walks away next, and you struggle to disguise yourself as the boys are joining you, announcing that they are starving.

- Wow, this is delicious. - said Pepper as soon as you sat down at the table and started to eat. The group agreed, and you blushed with embarrassment. Soon they started talking among themselves, and you tried to keep up as best you could, but the topics weren't really of interest to you.

When you got back to the room, Tony proposed that you all play a game, and then he went through the storage room and came back carrying monopoly.

At first you thought it would be innocent fun, then there were drinks and gambling.

- It's a four! - shouted Tony excitedly. - That's my property, Wilson!

Sam let out a grumble of dissatisfaction as he moved his figure around the board. Tony laughed mischievously.

- So, how do you want me to pay the rent? - Sam asked and Tony made a thoughtful face.

- With a question. - Tony announces maliciously. - Among the people in this room, tell me who would you have sex with?

Sam laughs in surprise, as the group gives a chorus of excitement. You swallow dryly, uncomfortable with the direction of the questions. So far, the questions and challenges had been innocent and slightly awkward, but after a few beers, the group was clearly getting more excited in other respects.

- Careful with your answer, friend. - Vision warned, putting his arm possessively around Wanda's shoulders. You looked away to the board.

- That might be shocking for a straight guy, Vis. - Sam remarked with mild debauchery. - But not all of us are looking at the girls.

The group laughs in surprise, and Vision rolls his eyes.

- I would do Steve Rogers for sure. - Sam declares the next moment, and the group lets out a celebratory chorus. Steve laughs too, slightly surprised. Sam just smiles playfully, shrugging his shoulders. Then Steve steps forward, amusing himself by pretending to kiss him, and the group laughs. You smile awkwardly, not really understanding what everyone thinks is funny.

The game continues, and you are doing very well. You laugh when Pepper has to tell you all about the worst sexual experience she has ever had, but you are slightly uncomfortable when Steve has to demonstrate on a pillow his first time. A few rounds later, you grumble in dissatisfaction when you take a five and end up in jail.

- Whoa, that's has a punishment. - Tony announces when he sees your move. You look at him, and he looks excited. - Finally, Presley, your moment has come.

- Tony. - Wanda scolds him for his nickname, but Tony doesn't listen.

- Let me think about it. - He continues with a thoughtful expression, and then a mischievous gleam takes over his gaze. - Have you ever heard that shy girls are the biggest freaks in the room?

You swallow dryly, feeling your face heat up as the group lets out a laugh.

- I will not...

- Don't even start. - Tony interrupts your denial with a smile. - Don't spoil the fun. I'll give you a simple challenge.

You bite the inside of your cheek, frowning as you fight the urge to get up.

- Your sentence of freedom will be to give a hickey to the person who gets a six on the dice. - He declares, and the group lets out a chorus of excitement.

And then everyone is rushing to throw the dice and you cross your arms, feeling your face hot.

- If more than one person gets six, you'll give them both a hickey and win immunity for a round! - Tony laughs as he makes up the rules.

Pepper is the first to play, and lets out a despondent sigh when she draws two. And then Steve plays next, and complains when the die lands on four. Sam and Tony don't get six either. You hold your breath when Wanda rolls, and feel your heart race when the die stops.

- This should be interesting. - Vision comments with mild irony and mischief as he takes his arm off Wanda's shoulders, picking up the die stopped at six. Tony laughs and you can't keep your eyes on the redhead.

Vision gets a four. And then Pietro gets a six, and you grumble.

- I can't believe you're going to get both of the Maximoffs! - Wilson comments with amusement and you swallow dryly, shifting uncomfortably in your seat.

- Finally some action. - Pietro jokes as he approaches. He kneels in front of you, and you take a deep breath. - Come on, Y/N, it's just a silly challenge.

He tries to reassure you with a smile, and you try to ignore the staring eyes on the two of you. You think the boys are laughing as you bring your face closer to Pietro's outstretched neck, and land your lips on his skin. He smells like aftershave lotion, but it's just embarrassing to be so close. Pietro lets out a breathless chuckle as you begin to suck on his skin, and he clenches the support of the couch.

You stop quickly, and he pulls away. The red skin glows on his neck. He flashes you the seductive smile, and you look away, listening to the group celebrating.

- Next, please! - Tony says clearly intoxicated. You feel your racing heart echoing in your ears. Wanda gets up from the couch, and unlike her brother, she completely short-circuits your brain when she sits on your lap. You think someone whistled.

- Wanda, what are you doing? - You mumble clumsily, and she just smiles as she puts her hands on your shoulders.

- Don't you like this position? - she asks and you swallow dryly.

- Come on, girls! - Tony tells you between laughs. Someone knocks over the vodka bottle on the floor, making a mess. You think the group is barely paying attention to you, fighting among themselves to save the rest of the board and Tony's expensive rug, but you're not really taking in anything other than the girl on your lap.

You move forward, sinking your face into her neck and inhaling Wanda's scent. When you let out your breath, she trembles and squeezes your shoulder lightly, making you swallow dryly.

You let your lips kiss her skin, watching Wanda's chest rise and fall, indicating her unregulated breathing. And then you lick her skin, and she chokes. When you suck on her skin, she bites her lips hard, stopping herself from moaning. And then you let go.

Ignoring the urge to kiss the red dot again, you throw your back against the armchair, moving away. Wanda lets out a breath, and before you can say anything, Tony is complaining that the game is over because the board has been ruined, and she rushes off your lap.

Your face is very hot when Sam makes a snide remark to you, and then you are all saying goodnight. You don't have the courage to look at Wanda when you go up to your room.

//-//

The next day you go skiing.

You absolutely suck at it, but so does everybody else, so nobody really cares.

You don't want to think so much about Wanda's hands on your waist when she teaches you how to do it.

You also don't want to be so annoyed when Vision insists on getting a kiss from her while you are walking back to the cabin.

During the afternoon, you are distracted by a video game with Pietro, extremely surprised that he has invited you to do something. After dinner you go back to your room to read a little, and are astonished when Wanda appears at your door a few minutes after you have gone upstairs.

- How about we watch a sitcom together? - She invites you in, and you shrug as you smile, making space for her to enter your room. She giggles when she notices the open book on your bed. - Of course you brought a book.

You laugh awkwardly as you close the door. Wanda throws herself on your bed, opening the laptop she has brought with her. You take the book out and place it closed on the dresser, before joining her, trying to keep a respectable distance.

She ends up putting on Bewitched, and you are distracted enough by the program.

- Wow, that's kind of wrong. - You comment between giggles. And Wanda laughs lightly, turning the program's attention to you.

- What?

- The joke. - You clarify. - The way they imply that it's okay for boys to behave like that.

- Yeah, I know. - She agrees, turning her attention back to the screen. - But we're still laughing.

- Yeah. - You agree, laughing. - I guess it's okay as long as we don't find it funny in real life.

Wanda makes a noise of agreement with her mouth and then you are silent again.

Two episodes later, Wanda suggests that you eat something. Then you go downstairs to the kitchen, and find the room empty.

- Pietro had called the boys to play soccer. - She says. - And I think Pepper and Tony are in their room.

You nod in understanding, following her around the kitchen. Wanda starts preparing a snack for you two.

- What is it? - You ask as you observe her choice of ingredients. She smiles mischievously.

- My masterpiece. - She says. - Just trust me, you'll like it.

You laugh, nodding. When she warms the bread rolls, and starts to pour oregano on top you let out an exclamation.

- Wanda, are you sure you know what you're doing?

She laughs, shaking her head slightly.

- Trust me on this. - She asks with a smile, starting to cut tomatoes. You cross your arms, not believing that you are actually going to eat that.

And then the sandwich is ready, and Wanda assumes a cheerful posture. She puts the bread on a plate and turns to you, leaving the object on the counter beside you.

You take a piece while she takes another, and together you taste the sandwich while Wanda looks at you expectantly.

It's surprisingly good, and you blink in amazement when you feel the taste, looking away from her to the food.

- Wow, that's good. - You comment before taking another bite. Wanda smiles.

- Really? I'm glad you like it. Vision doesn't like it very much, he says it tastes strange.

You grumble lightly, continuing to eat. Wanda pours you two some soda. You are silent for a moment and when she leaves the phone on the countertop to wash the dishes, your gaze runs quickly across the screen as you reach for your glass.

- Hey, are you into poetry? - you ask as you look at the open Instagram post.

Wanda smiles, nodding.

- That's cool, I think we follow the same page. - You comment quickly pointing to her unlocked cell phone. Wanda looks surprised.

When she finishes washing the dishes, she asks to borrow your cell phone. You spend the next thirty minutes laughing and joking as you compare your Instagram feeds and follower list. You don't want to overthink on how many common interests you have with Wanda.

//-//

On the penultimate day you want to build a snowman.

There is a Hockey game on TV, and everyone seems excited to watch. So you just walk out of the cabin while Tony hands out snacks and drinks to everyone.

You are just finishing assembling the body when you hear footsteps.

- You are very antisocial. - Wanda jokes as she approaches, hands in her pockets. You don't want to think about how adorable she looks.

- Yeah, I know. - You comment with your attention on the snowman. - It's not your friends' fault, by the way, I'm just not a big sports fan.

- All right, I don't see what's so funny about it either. - She says as she stops beside you. - Can I help you with him?

- Let me see your hands. - You ask, and she looks at you in confusion, taking her hands out of her pockets. You deny it. - No gloves, no playing. I don't want you to get hypothermia.

She laughs lightly, putting her hands back in her pockets. You turn your attention back to the snowman.

- We can go for a walk. - You suggest after a moment. - Since we're not going to watch the game.

Wanda smiles, looking away to the cabin.

- Okay.

You finish your snowman in silence. It's decent you think.

- I used to do it all the time. - You tell her as you stand up, putting your hands in your pockets. Wanda looks at you curiously. - But then I grew up and my parents thought it was a kid thing.

- Yeah, I know how that is. - She agrees as you stare at the snowman. - One birthday is all it takes for the treatment to change completely.

You nod in agreement, and then you look at her, signaling for you to go the other way.

You walk side by side in the opposite direction of the cabin.

After spending the whole way talking about the most random subjects, you end up at a small pier, at the edge of the lake that covers the entire back stretch of the cabin. You and Wanda sit side by side on the wood cross-legged.

- We should have brought something hot to drink. - You comment with a smile, hugging your arms for a moment. Wanda nods.

- So, are you enjoying the trip? - Wanda asks and you look away, smiling at the lake.

- I suppose so.

- You suppose? - She replies with amusement, making you laugh.

You clear your throat before speaking again.

- I enjoyed the time I spent with you. - You confess, looking forward. Wanda wiggles her fingers nervously, looking away from you to face the lake as well. - Don't get me wrong, Wanda. Your friends are... nice I guess. But they're not the reason I'm here.

You look at Wanda, and she nods frantically. Your heart is racing, but playing games isn't exactly your thing. You want to know what's going on.

- And you? - you ask, studying her face. - Did you enjoy the time I was here?

- Yes. - Wanda confesses breathlessly, her face flushing slightly.

Swallowing hard, you look away to the lake again. And then you slowly move your hand against the wood, reaching for Wanda's hand next. You give it enough time for her to move away, or to strike you, and she does neither. Feeling your heart soar, you intertwine your hands, holding back a sigh at how good it feels even when wearing gloves.

Several minutes later, you let out an excited exclamation when you hear a noise in the nearby forest. Turning your head, you confirm your suspicions. A small white fox is looking at you curiously.

You help Wanda to get up quietly and slowly so as not to startle the animal.

- Hey. - You say softly to the animal, walking towards it. The fox looks at you wide-eyed, but your posture doesn't frighten him. You smile when he lets you pet him.

- He is so cute. - Wanda comments softly, kneeling down beside you. The fox lies down on the grass as the redhead strokes his head.

He tires of the attention quickly however, and the next moment he gives you a look before running back into the forest. You and Wanda laugh lightly as you two stand up.

You walk back to the cabin in silence, a tension in the air that makes your stomach turn. You don't hold hands, but you walk very close together.

When you are almost to the cabin area, you stand in front of Wanda, pushing her by the waist against a tree. You both sigh breathlessly, but you lose the courage. It's not right, not yet. Resting your forehead on hers, resisting the urge to kiss her, you close your eyes.

- Leave him. - You say and Wanda squeezes her hands in your arms.

Wanda lets out a sigh, closing her eyes like you did, and your faces come closer together.

- I won't share you, Wanda. - You whisper against her lips. - Either you're with me, or you're not.

Resisting the urge to close the distance, you sigh and turn away. Wanda's pupils are dilated as she looks at you. You lock your jaw, putting your hands in your pockets. And then you turn around, and disguise it nicely when Pepper comes out of the cabin, asking where you were, and you just smile and say you went for a walk.

//-//

Vision and Wanda argue on the last day at the cabin.

You frown as your awakened by the volume of the argument. But you decide not to pry, and when Pepper signals for you to join her on her morning walk, you agree.

- You know, you are surprisingly nice. - She comments as you two take a break for some water.

- Thanks, I guess. - You mumble, and she laughs.

- What I mean is that nerds are usually know-it-all types and not at all sociable. - She explains. - You're quiet, but you're fun.

- Who says I'm not a know-it-all. - You retort with amusement, and Pepper laughs as you walk back.

- I'm just saying that it turned out to be nice to invite you over despite everything.

- Despite everything what?

Pepper laughs awkwardly, shaking her head.

- The differences between our groups I say. - She quickly clarifies. You don't perceive the lie. - Maybe there is a chance for us to remain friends after here.

- Why wouldn't we? - you ask confused. Pepper seems to be talking as if it is impossible for you to continue talking to each other after the trip is over, and you don't understand why.

Pepper blinks in embarrassment, and then pats your arm, hurrying her steps.

- It's nothing, I'm just overthinking it. - she says. - I'm sure it will all work out.

You don't ask any more questions because she's walking too fast, and exercise isn't really your thing. You're struggling to keep up.

//-//

After your walk with Pepper, you agreed to let Steve teach you how to play a bit of hockey. And then you all had lunch together, and Wanda avoided all your attempts to start a conversation with her. You figured she was upset with her boyfriend, so you didn't press her.

Later in the afternoon, after you played snowball wars with everyone, and perhaps laughed more than appropriate when Wanda kept hitting Vision in the face, Steve made a fire in the backyard area and everyone gathered around.

- Let's tell some horror stories, please? - Pietro asked as he sat down, and Tony slapped him on the head, laughing.

- You are such a baby. - he sneered, holding out a bottle of whiskey to Steve. You rolled your eyes, impatient with Stark's annoying mania for proving his maturity.

Then he began to share sex stories, and the group seemed happy to join in. The bottle swirled around, and you let it pass you by without taking a sip. It stopped at Wanda, and she drank much more than anyone else.

- And you, Y/N, don't you have any sinful stories to share with the group? - teased Tony ironically, and you rolled your eyes.

- I prefer to be silent.

Tony laughed at her hostility.

- Now all that's left is for you to say you're a virgin! - he sneered, causing the group to laugh. You exchanged a quick glance with Wanda, who didn't even seem to be listening, the whiskey bottle still in her hands.

- I'm not, but if I were that wouldn't be your business - You retort impatiently. Tony whistles impressed.

- Tell us how it was! - he asks excitedly. - I bet it was Jessica Jones who fucked the weirdo!

You stand up abruptly as the group laughs.

- You're drunk, and you're talking shit. - you say angrily. - But if you ever annoy me again, I will punch you right in the face!

Tony seems slightly impressed by your attitude, but he is clearly drunk so he shrugs his shoulders. You then leave, returning to your room.

Non-Reader Povs

- What is your problem? - Pietro complained as soon as Y/N entered the cabin. Tony blinked surprised and alcoholic.

- It was just a joke, it's not my fault she's weird. - He retorted with a wry laugh.

Pietro let out an irritated exclamation.

- You know what? - He spoke angrily, looking at everyone. - What we're doing is wrong.

- What was that? - Vision sneered, but Pietro looked at him seriously.

- You heard me. - he said, getting up. - She's a nice girl and she's been fun to be with. That bet was stupid.

The teens exchange guilty glances, but then Tony and Vision are laughing.

- One hickey and you're in love, Maximoff? - Vision sneered and stood up, as Pietro clenched his jaw.

- You're an asshole.

- Oh, I'm an asshole? - Vision retorted ironically. - This little scene of yours is absurd, treating your friends as if we were the villains of the story. - he says laughing. - The girl is a weirdo who must be absolutely fascinated that people like us even talk to her!

Pietro looks at him impatiently, but Vision does not lose his debauched posture.

- Shut up. - Wanda's drunken speech startles the group. Vision turns to her in surprise, but then he laughs.

- That's excellent. - He says. - Both Maximoffs teaming up against the group.

- You're full of shit. - Wanda exclaimed angrily, getting up, and Vision shook her head. - She's not...

- She's not what dear? - He interrupted. - You know I'm right. In fact, I bet if you go up to her room right now, you won't even need to ask twice and she'll fuck you.

- Vision! - Pietro exclaims angrily, but he stares only at the redhead, who has her jaw clenched.

- Everyone just wants to fuck you, Wandy. - He says. - There's nothing worthwhile beyond that.

Wanda holds back the tears in her eyes, bumping into Vision as she leaves, and the boy laughs, shouting between giggles that he was only joking, but the redhead doesn't turn around.

- That was cruel. - Potts then said, and Vision let out a wry laugh.

- It was just a joke. - He says and sits back down. - You girls are so sentimental.

Pietro then leaves, and Vision rolls his eyes. Steve and Sam exchange a look with Pepper.

- You can't really think it's okay to say something like that to your girlfriend. - Steve said annoyed. Vision laughs, incredulous at Steve's insinuation. - What is it, people? - he replies. - I just said she's hot, how is that a bad thing?

- You know, Pietro is right. - Steve said as he got up. - This whole story is absurd. - Steve, come on. - No, he is right. - Sam then agreed. And then Pepper stood up, exchanging a look with Tony. - Good, then. - Vision exclaims angrily. - Be my guests! I suppose you'll start hanging out with the school's weirdos on Monday then. You guys are a joke. Hypocrites. Vision grumbles before exiting angrily, walking towards the trail. The group exchanged a guilty look.

Reader Pov

You had just finished showering and putting on your pajamas when Wanda came into your room. You frowned in surprise, and let out an exclamation when she pushed you onto the bed and sat you on your lap.

- What are you doing? - you asked, and Wanda just grumbled, trying to unbutton your pajamas, but clearly too drunk to do so. - Wanda, stop. Wanda!

- That's what you want, isn't it? - She retorts with irritation, but her eyes are filled with tears. - Everyone wants to fuck the hot girl.

- Wanda, what are you talking about?

But then she's crying, falling against you. You let your arms go around her, trying to calm her down. She only stops crying when she falls asleep.

You don't know what has happened, but you feel your heart clench. Moving to the bed, you lay Wanda down on the mattress, then cover her with the blanket.

When you consider going to sleep in the living room, she takes your hand and whispers "stay," and you obey her.

//-//

You wake up with Wanda entwined with you. It is warm and comforting, and you smile shyly at the sensation.

The redhead starts to wake up next, grumbling as she buries her face in your neck, making you smile.

- We have to get up. - You whisper to her. - We're leaving.

- In a minute.

She says and it really only takes a moment for her to open her eyes, and be startled by the position. She awkwardly pulls away from your embrace, but still lies there. You turn on the bed to look at her, resting your face on your hand.

- I'm sorry about last night. - She says embarrassed, looking down.

- No problem. - You say. - But what was that about anyway?

Wanda sighs, running her hands through her hair as she stares at the ceiling, her back on the mattress.

- Vision told me some stupid things, and well, I believed him. - She says and you look at her curiously. With your silence, she clarifies. - It was just some comments he used to make about my body, okay? Things like, people are only interested in me because I'm hot.

You frown, surprised and annoyed.

- That's bullshit.

Wanda looks at you, surprised that you said something. You look into her eyes as you speak again.

- Your boyfriend is an insecure scumbag who uses your body insecurities against you. It's sick. - You tell her seriously. - You, Wanda Maximoff, are completely passionate for a thousand reasons other than your looks. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise.

You smile at Wanda's surprised expression, letting your fingers wander across her features.

- Do you really mean that? - she asks insecurely, and you give her a tender look.

- You're sweet. - You start, letting your fingers caress her cheek. - Smart and sincere. You have this different energy, like you never fit anywhere and you're absolutely magnetic. - You tell her. - And of course, you also laugh at my jokes, which suggests that you are as sarcastic and perceptive as I am.

Wanda smiles and closes her eyes for a second, and then looks at you with almost guilt.

- Can I ask you a random question?

- Sure.

- If someone needed to apologize to you, what would be the best way?

- This is a very specific question, Wanda. Should I be concerned? - You retort with mild amusement, and Wanda quickly denies it.

- Come on, answer me. - She asks, and you giggle.

- I don't know, Wanda. - You say laughing, and roll your eyes slightly. - I guess it would depend on what the person did. - You explain, and Wanda looks at you with a frown. - What's that face, what would your answer be then?

- Food. - She says and you look at her with confusion. - The person would only have to buy me food and apologize and I would forgive them.

You let out a laugh, and Wanda follows. And then you assume a thoughtful posture.

- Honestly, I don't think if there is a right way. - You tell her. - I would like the person to be honest with me, and explain to me what happened. - You say, and Wanda nods with a serious expression. - That, or a really cheesy apology act.

- What? - Wanda asks with amusement.

- Yes, like in those old movies. - You clarify with a slight laugh. - If someone apologizes in the rain, or with a serenade at my window, I would probably forgive that person for the shame they are going through for me.

You and Wanda laugh and then your alarm clock starts to ring, signaling that it was already time for everyone to get up and go home. You sigh slightly.

As you sit up in bed, throwing your feet out, Wanda hugs your back, surprising you.

- Thank you. - She says against your ear. - Don't give up on me yet, okay?

You frown in confusion, laughing without understanding Wanda's seriousness. You squeeze your hands together, but then she lets go.

- Is everything all right? - you ask as she turns around on the bed and stands up in front of you. Wanda swallows dryly, nodding. She smiles before she leaves, and you ignore the strange feeling that has settled on the pit of your stomach as you stand up toward the bathroom.

//-//

The way back to your house is strangely silent. It seems that all of Wanda's friends have changed their personalities overnight. Pietro gives you a quick hug across the shoulders as you get out of the car, and Wanda kisses your cheek. Vision doesn't look at you.

You call your friends as soon as you finish packing your things in your room. And everyone is extremely surprised when you share what has happened in the last few days.

When you return to school the next day, you are feeling excited.

Your first class is Biology, which means that you would have some time alone with Wanda, and while you wait for the starting bell, sitting on the benches outside with your friends, Wanda's group passes you by.

You frown as you notice Vision with his arm around Wanda, and she quickly looks away when she notices you watching. You clench your jaw at the childish attitude, and then you are getting up and walking toward the table they have chosen.

- Can I talk to you? - You ask the redhead directly, who seems to have trouble keeping her gaze on you. Her friends also look awkward, as if they are almost embarrassed, and none of them look at you for very long. Completely unlike Vision, who has a smug posture and a wry smile.

- Leave my girlfriend alone, freak. - He then says, and you blink in surprise.

- What is your problem? - You retort in irritation and Vision lets out a wry laugh.

- What is your problem? - He repeats, getting up and facing you. You don't hesitate, but you don't understand why everyone just stares at you. - What did you think was going to happen, huh? That you would start hanging out with the cool kids?

You look at him in confusion, and then he crosses his arms.

- I just want to talk to Wanda.

Vision laughed, looking mocking.

- You're so stupid. - He accused and you took a step back. - The bet is off girl, Wanda has nothing to say.

You blink in confusion, and the redhead is getting up, pulling on her boyfriend's forearm, but you look at them feeling your heart racing.

- What are you talking about?

Vision laughs, releasing Wanda's grip. You think she whispered "Please don't," but you are trying to understand what is going on.

- Oh, your dear friend didn't tell you? - he asks debauchedly. - We had a bet. I was sure you'd be completely obsessed with Wanda by the end of the holiday, and look at you! Here you are. I don't blame you though, Wanda is hot.

You choke in surprise, taking another step back. You risk a glance at the rest of the group, and they have their heads down, guilty looks on their faces. And then you look at Wanda, eyes watering as she clenches her fists. Feeling your heart break, and your stomach clench, you nod.

- Y/N, I can explain. - Wanda starts and you laugh, running your hands through your hair.

- I've always defended you. - You say, putting your hands in your pockets. - When people told me you were false and deceitful, I defended you. I really thought you were different from them.

- I....

- I can't believe I trusted you. - You say. - Never speak to me again, Wanda Maximoff.

You turned around walking away, ignoring the times the redhead called your name as you held back your tears.

//-//

Your mother told the school that you were sick.

That's how you felt anyway.

It had been three days since you had left your room. Bruce, Monica and Natasha were sending you all the school content you were missing, and you struggled to keep your focus on that and not on the heartbreak that seemed to take over your whole body.

The weekend arrived again, and you decided to get some fresh air. You were on your balcony, sipping hot chocolate when Nat came into your yard.

- Hey, stranger. - She greets you with a smile, sitting down on the seat in front of you. You give her a sad smile.

- Hi, Nat.

- How are you?

You shrug, and she sighs.

- It will pass, I promise. - She says and you drink some of your chocolate. - By the way, I'm suspended.

- What? - You ask in surprise, and she giggles, showing you the bandage on the fingers of her right hand.

- I punched Vision in the nose shortly after you left the cafeteria. - She tells you, and you widen your eyes in surprise. - I didn't say anything before because I didn't want you to feel guilty.

- Nat! - you exclaim, slightly upset, looking at her hand. - You didn't have to do that.

- I know. - she says with a slight laugh. - But you are my friend, and he is an idiot. You're a dork who doesn't have the strength to hurt a fly, but I have a feeling you'd do the same for me.

You laugh, nodding.

- I would probably get beat up in reality.

Nat laughs in agreement.

You are silent for a moment, until Nat speaks again.

- I hate to see you like this. - She comments, and you sigh, leaving the coffee mug on the table.

- I hate feeling like this too.

Nat sighs, opening her arms. You accept her invitation to hug her, and sit down next to her on the bench, letting her wrap you in a side hug.

- You'll come out of this, dear. - She starts to say as she strokes your hair. - Next year you'll be in college, with so many people wanting to get into your pants that you won't even remember who Wanda Maximoff was.

You laugh shyly.

- I hope you are right. - You grumble, closing your eyes.

- I always am.

//-//

You go back to school the following week.

Your body always seems to notice that Wanda is in the same room as you, even though she is meters away, but you learn to deal with the feeling.

You talked to the biology teacher on Monday morning. Apparently, the news quickly spread throughout the school, and she did not refuse to change your partner.

It wasn't an ideal scenario knowing that everyone in the school was feeling sorry for you, but at least you wouldn't have to talk to Wanda in class.

And so two weeks passed.

You were almost getting used to the feeling as you walked towards the main building, after stopping by the library and returning the physics books you were using, when you heard a commotion in the courtyard.

There was already a circle of students around, and you were considering turning around, because fights are not really your thing, but you had a feeling you should check it out.

As you slipped in among the students, you let out a surprised exclamation.

- Bruce! - You shouted as you threw the bag on the ground and lunged forward, but the boy who was fighting with your friend just turned around when you jumped at him, breaking free of your grip and laughing with irony and anger. He slapped you in the face that drew a surprised chorus from the crowd. You staggered back with the impact, feeling your face burn. But you stepped forward again, but he gave you a hard shove that knocked you to the ground. As you got up to go forward again, someone grabbed you around the waist. - Pietro, let me go! Help him!

You let out another exclamation when the boy punched Bruce in the face, but Pietro pushed you away from the fight, and Steve held you by the arms in the crowd. Pietro lunged at the boy next, while Bruce fell unconscious.

You broke free of Steve's grip and ran to your friend, and then there were teachers all around you, and you were all being led into the principal's office.

The counselor motioned for you to sit in one of the chairs to wait your turn, and you used this moment to send messages to your friends. Monica told you that she heard about the fight, but that she was in the history room when it happened. Natasha didn't answer, and when she appeared in front of you, you frowned.

- Nat, Bruce he...

- I know. - She interrupted seriously with an almost tearful expression. - He was fighting for me.

- For you? What?

Nat shook her head, looking toward the direction door.

- I told him not to get involved, but he is stubborn. - She says and then takes a deep breath. - That boy over there, his name is Clint. He's my ex. He... he hit me.

- Whoa, what?

- I know, it's too much to explain. - She says. - Me and Bruce, we... we've been going out for a few weeks now. And Clint wasn't happy when he found out. I told Bruce not to get involved but…

- Hey, Nat breathes. - You interrupt by seeing her eyes filled with tears. - This is not your fault.

You hug your friend, trying to calm her down. It doesn't take long for Monica to reach you two.

Soon the director calls you to give your side of the story, and you just tell him that you arrived in the middle of the fight. As you leave, the principal asks you to go to the infirmary and only then you remember that you were beaten.

You give up the idea of getting a bandage when you find Pietro and the group of friends, including Wanda, in the infirmary, but as soon as the nurse lays eyes on you, she pulls you in, sitting you down on one of the free beds.

She starts grumbling that the students have decided to behave like savages as she rushes over with the first aid kits to attend to all the students who were in the infirmary. You don't quite understand what happened, but it seemed that some kids had made a mess in the pesticide gardening class, so there were several students with red spots on their arms complaining of pain.

- It's okay, I can do it. - You tell the nurse as soon as she approaches you with the first aid kit. She looks at you suspiciously, but then a student at your back lets out a complaint and she sighs, handing the items to you as she leaves. You get up to look in the small mirror on the edge of the bed. There is a small cut on your cheek. That guy really hit hard.

While you were preparing the alcohol swab, Wanda walked over to you. You stared at her reflection in the mirror.

- I can help you with this. - She said about the bandage.

- I don't need your help. - You retorted harshly. Wanda looked at the floor.

- I am sorry.

You blinked in surprise, and turned away in irritation.

- No. - You warned, and Wanda swallowed hard. She looked at you, ready to start talking again, but then you shook your head. - Don't you dare.

- Please…

But you left right away, bumping into her shoulder.

Almost four weeks, and your chest still hurts just the same.

You think the nurse has called you, but you keep walking towards the exit.

When you reached the outer courtyard, you collapsed.

Sitting on the floor, and trying to control your breathing and your crying, you were startled when someone touched your shoulders. Monica didn't ask questions, she just hugged you.

- I can't do it, Mon. - You said between sobs. - I love her so much it feels like I'm going to suffocate.

- Shh, it's okay. - Monica tried to calm you down as she ran her hands down your back.

- Why can't I move on? She hurt me, why can't I stop loving her? - you asked in desperation. Monica just kept calming you.

- I know it feels like the end of the world now. - Monica says. - But I promise it will pass.

You cried for a few more minutes, trying to push or smother the pain away. It wasn't fair the way Wanda had your broken heart in her hand.

//-//

Bruce did not suffer any serious injuries.

You visited him in the infirmary as soon as he was released from the principal's office. He was worried about your swollen crying eyes, but you assured him that everything was fine.

And then he told you that he was in love with Natasha, and that Clint had been expelled. You shook his hand, saying that everything would be all right now. Soon Nat was in the room with you, hugging Bruce, while you went out with Monica to get something to eat.

The week passed quietly after this.

Your friends started the "Moving on squad", and they did everything to keep you distracted and well cared for. It was sweet and caring, and it was enough to keep your feelings well under control.

A few days after that mess, you needed to buy tomato sauce for your mother and found Pietro Maximoff in the supermarket checkout line.

- Hey. - He greeted you politely. You felt your heart race at the possibility that he was with his sister.

- Hi, Pietro. - You answered in the same tone.

You were checking around for signs of the redhead, but Pietro was alone. He said something about the prices, and you just grumbled in agreement, and then it was your turn.

In the parking lot, while you were unlocking your bike, he approached you again.

- I want to apologize to you. - He announced as he approached, and you let out a sigh.

- Look Pietro...

- No. - He interrupts with a quick smile. - I meant it. I'm really sorry. You're a nice girl, and we were idiots.

You stare at him for a moment, then go back to picking the lock.

- Is that all?

- Yes. - He confirms with a wry smile. But when he turns around, you call out to him.

- I... Thank you for that day. - You say. - You pulled me out of the fight. I probably would have got hurt if... what I mean is...

- It's all right.- He interrupts with a smile. - It was nothing.

You nodded and he smiled, turning again and walking away. You finished unlocking the lock and got on your bike.

//-//

The next week you were surprised to find a box of chocolate in your closet.

Nat exchanged a mischievous look with you, and you rolled your eyes absentmindedly, opening the package. It didn't have a name on it, and only said "you are cute".

- I can't believe you have a secret admirer. - Monica commented excitedly when you told her during lunch. Bruce and Natasha were sitting next to you, laughing lightly as they talked among themselves.

- Neither do I. - You comment with humor. - But the chocolates were good at least.

- I think it’s sweet. - She comments with a smile, and you shrug, blushing.

- It's weird. - You say with a slight laugh, and Monica squeezes your red cheeks lightly, saying that you're adorable, making you laugh. - Damn, I'm terrible at these things.

You start talking about the upcoming exams after that, and then the break ends.

It is in the last period of PE that you speak with Pietro again several days after you saw him last.

- Hey. - He greets you with an excited nod. You smile politely as you tie your shoelaces.

- Hi. - You say as he joins you.

- Are you going to the game on Saturday? - he asks, causing you to frown.

- I'm not...

- My god this guy never gives up. - He interrupts with a scowl, looking at something behind you. You turn your head to see what it is, and notice Vision talking to Wanda several feet ahead, near the bleachers. The redhead looks impatient, and you feel your heart ache just by looking directly at her. Shifting your gaze back to Pietro, you notice that he is still grimacing. - They've been broken up for over a month and he still keeps insisting.

You blink in surprise and Pietro looks back at you.

- They broke up?

- I thought you knew. - He quips, slightly surprised, and then shrugs his shoulders. - They broke up that day in the yard. Wanda slapped him in the face in front of the whole school, everyone talked about it for weeks.

- I'm not really into school gossip. - You comment and Pietro laughs.

- Of course not.

You stand up next, your gaze quickly shifting to Wanda, but you disguise it by looking at Pietro, who has an expectant expression on his face. Then you remember the question and let out an exclamation, running your hands through your hair.

- I'm not into sports, Pietro. - You tell him and he nods in understanding, looking upset. - But I like the food. And Natasha loves the games, so maybe I'll show up with my friends there.

Pietro lets out an excited exclamation, and gives you a pat on the shoulder, saying he hopes you can make it, before heading out onto the court.

You ignore the nervous feeling in your stomach when your gaze meets Wanda's on the other side of the court, and you quickly turn away, starting to do your exercises for class.

//-//

You were slightly surprised by Natasha's outfit. She was covered head to toe in school colors, down to a commemorative hat and matching socks. You looked at her with a raised eyebrow, but she just smiled as she pulled you by the hand to Monica's truck.

- How is the story about the secret admirer going? - Nat asked as you sat in the back seat, and Monica drove to school and Bruce fiddled with the radio.

- I received flowers on Wednesday. - You tell with a smile. - And a collection of special gift vouchers.

- What are these? - She asked curiously, and Monica laughed lightly as you felt your cheeks flush.

- It's a special kind of ... eh ... vouchers for hugs, kisses, that sort of thing. - You mumbled clumsily and Natasha laughed.

- My goodness, look at your face! - She laughed. - You are loving how corny this is.

You grumbled with a hot face, turning your gaze to the window. Bruce chose a very good song next, and your friends started singing along. It didn't take long before you joined them.

//-//

The school stadium was quite crowded. Senior year games always had scouts from universities, so you weren't surprised by family members, and well-dressed strangers in the stands, as well as faculty.

- Wow, Mom is going to have fun today. - Monica commented as two you walked to the bleachers. She was looking at her cell phone, and showed you a picture of two glasses of wine that Maria had sent her. - She has a date.

- Have you met them? - you asked curiously, and Monica made a noise with her mouth of agreement.

- She's from the Air Force. Very pretty and fun, and she treated me very well. - She told you with a smile. - I hope everything works out between them, Mom deserves to be happy.

You nod in agreement and then you find empty chairs. Bruce and Natasha join you many moments later, carrying the food.

- Yay, fries. - Monica says excitedly as Natasha distributes the food among you.

The band then enters the stadium. And the crowd seems excited, you and Monica laugh at Natasha's excitement.

As soon as the band makes their formation, the cheerleaders enter the field and the crowd cheers. You try not to look at Wanda so immediately, but that is exactly what you do. When they are all in the center, and finish the performance with lots of applause, the director gets up on the stage and starts announcing the game.

- And without further ado, West View High let's...

The principal is interrupted abruptly by one of the students. You and the audience watch intently as Pepper nudges the principal on the shoulder, and he turns around confused and surprised. She smiles innocently as she quickly takes the microphone from his hand.

- We had a slight change of plans, West View. - she announces, smiling. And then the band is moving on, and you recognize the music quickly. It was an old rock song. The audience sings along excitedly, surprised and in shock, but still happy with the music.

As the music plays, Pepper turns back to the director, and they discuss something. He lets out a sigh and shakes his head, and she gives an excited little jump, and then is joining the cheering team again.

When the song ends, it is not Pepper who comes up to the podium with the microphone, but Wanda, which generates a lot of comments from the audience.

- Is that? - Natasha starts and you feel your stomach turn.

- Yep.

- Hello West View. - Wanda begins looking nervous, the audience looks at her in anticipation. - Many of you must think me a complete bitch after the rumors that surfaced a few weeks ago.

- Oh my God. - You mumble clumsily, feeling the stares of some people on you.

- I think I should explain what happened. - Wanda says tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, and ignoring the comments from the audience, she continues talking. - My ex-boyfriend and my best friends decided to make a bet. - She explains, and you clench your jaw. - He bet my friends that if I gave even the slightest bit of attention to our colleague, Y/N Y/L/N, she would become obsessed with me in one weekend. - The audience seems shocked by the confessions, but Wanda was looking at you. - The funny thing is, it was the exact opposite. Y/N is this amazing girl, sweet and caring, and I can't stop thinking about her. It must be because I am completely in love with her. - She confessed, and you felt your eyes fill with tears. - But I blew it. I was mean and cruel, and I'm sorry. I'm here to apologize to you Y/N, and you don't even have to forgive me. I just wanted you to know.

The audience erupted in murmurs at the confession, and you were in shock to react. Wanda was also teary-eyed.

A mixture of "forgive her" and " start the game" and various other comments began to grow louder, and then Director Fury was approaching Wanda, and asking for the microphone back. She took one last look at you, before bowing her head and walking off the field. The audience let out a mixed chorus of celebration and sadness, and then Monica was pushing you slightly, and you waved frantically as you hurried to catch up to Wanda.

- I can't believe you did that! - You shout at her as soon as you reach her in the gymnasium hallway, the noise of the game starting muffled by the distance.

Wanda turns around in surprise, wiping away tears.

- I just...

- When I said the perfect apology would be like a cliché, I can't believe you took it seriously. - You comment as you approach laughing lightly. Wanda looks surprised at your friendly posture. - You are such a dork.

And then you kiss her as you bring your hands to her waist, and she sighs in astonishment, but responds the next second, trembling as your tongues touch.

You push her against the wall of the hallway, and she slips her arms around your shoulders, melting into the kiss. You separate your mouths for breath.

- I'm sorry. - She asks again with her eyes closed. - I'm really sorry.

- I know. - You agree breathlessly. - Just... don't ever do anything like that again.

She nods in agreement, kissing you again. It's delicious the way your tongues feel together, making your head spin. You are blushing because Wanda is sighing and making a warm tightness rise in the pit of your stomach.

- I love you too, Wands. - You confess against her lips and she opens her eyes in surprise, you look at her with a smile. - I guess ever since you laughed at my joke in biology class.

Wanda lets out a short laugh, her eyes sparkling with joy.

- I love you. - She answers by kissing you quickly. - I love you. - She repeats and starts depositing kisses all over your face, making you laugh. She repeats and repeats until you kiss her again, intensely this time.

You stay like this for several minutes. Exchanging not-so-innocent kisses against the gymnasium wall. Until the first half of the game is over, and you hear the sound of the players returning to the locker room, and then Pietro is reaching for you, making a false threatening posture when he notices your swollen lips, and Wanda's lipstick on your face.

- Please get a room. - He then jokes, continuing on his way to the locker room.

You and Wanda agree to leave the stadium, wanting to enjoy some time together without the stares of the audience on you.

You two end up in the back of Monica's truck, staring up at the stars, your hands entwined.

- So it was you who sent the presents. - You conclude by looking at Wanda quickly, to catch her blushing cheeks.

- I was trying to find a way to talk to you. - She explained, turning to you, releasing her hand only to stroke your cheek. - That's why I made the voucher “worth a conversation”.

You laughed lightly, looking at her fondly.

- I liked the kiss coupon. - You say with amusement and she raises her eyebrow, smiling.

- Yeah? - She replies, bringing your faces together and stealing a lingering kiss from you.

- Best one.

Wanda laughs, pulling away a little. You swallow dryly, watching her carefully.

- What happens now? - you ask, and Wanda looks into your eyes.

- I don't know. - She says. - But I hope we'll be together in the end.

You smile, nodding.

- We will. - You assure her before adjusting your position to embrace her. Wanda snuggles against you, enjoying your warmth.

#wanda maximoff #wanda #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x you #wanda x reader #wandaxreader #wandaxyou #wandamaximoff x reader #wandamaximoffxreader #wanda maximoffxreader #marvel imagines #high school au

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thatbritishactor · 3 years

Text

In Between Breaths (part 3)

Pairing: Benjamin Greene x Reader

Summary : Literature College Professor Benjamin Greene moves to the US after his divorce with Julia. Heartbroken, he’s given up on the idea of love. Everything changes when he meets you.

Warnings: None for now, except for some cursing. I have no idea if this fic will be smutty.

Type: Slow Burn

Total Words: 1,600

In Between Breaths Playlist

My Masterlist

Part 1 Part 2 Part 4 Part 5

The next time you meet Benjamin, you bring the promised pastries, and a small copper colored watering can you’ve found in your father’s attic. You show up at nine, and he opens the door of his office for you, smiling widely.

“Come in” he says, and you could swear your ears just had an orgasm just by the sound of his voice. You try and tame the butterflies overrunning your belly and take a seat across from him. Glancing briefly at the clutter on his desk, you purse your lips.

You want to address the mess, but it might be too soon yet. You look at him while he crosses the room to sit and detail his silhouette: he’s wearing dark jeans and a grey cardigan over a buttoned-down shirt, and you look away, fearful that he might catch you while you’re checking him out. He slides his glasses on his nose and looks at you, his charcoal eyes assessing you.

“How are you?” he asks politely.

“I’m fine, I brought what was promised, actually.” You retrieve the watering can from your bag and put it on his desk; his eyes widen.

“Oh, so you were actually serious.” You can hear hints of resignation in his tone.

“I won’t tolerate plant abuse” you joke, looking up from your bag, meeting his dark gaze.

He smirks, seeming unimpressed. “Of course, the plant savior, I should have known.”

You smile back at him and display the paper bag containing the scones you’ve purchased for the both of you on the desk between you. Benjamin’s eyes widen again, and you can tell that he’s starting to figure out that you’re quite a literal person.

You shrug, knowing from experience that snacks help people bond, and wanting to diffuse the awkwardness you feel when you’re around him.

“You shouldn’t have.” He seems a bit embarrassed.

“Please, it’s nothing” you dismiss with a hand gesture. “I didn’t have breakfast this morning and I’m starving; those aren’t for you.”

Benjamin straightens his back. “Do all TAs bring offerings to their professors or am I just a lucky bastard?” The shadow of a smirk plays at the corner of his lips, and you’re pleased that he feels comfortable enough to swear. You blink a few times, feeling flustered at his veiled compliment.

“Nah, you’re just lucky” you wink, amazed by your own audacity.

Benjamin lets out a laugh, a sound you know that you’ll grow fond of, and you exchange another complicit glance before he reaches for a scone. “You forgot the tea.” He bites into the baked good, and you scoff.

“Do I have to do everything in this office?” you gasp, pretending to be offended and putting a hand over your chest.

“Be careful, I could get used to this.” He waves the scone. Smiling to yourself, you think that you’re satisfied from the reaction you got from him.

“Alright, let’s get to work, shall we?” he chuckles, and you nod, eager to start.

You spend the entire morning going over his syllabus for his class on Antigone, first by going over the work of Sophocles, then Euripides, and Jean Cocteau. You surprise him when you bring Jean Anouilh up, because he hadn’t considered him. It brings you an immense sense of pride, and you beam when he adds the play to his program. Benjamin and you decide to end the syllabus on Seamus Haeney, and when you look at your watch again, you’re surprised to notice that three hours have passed.

“Oh gosh, I’m gonna be late for class” you squeal. Benjamin looks up from his book, his beautiful lips parting.

“I’m so sorry, I hadn’t noticed the time.”

“It’s fine” you reassure him, shoveling your notes and books into your satchel. You stand up, putting your bag over your shoulder and point to the plants.

“Will you water them?”

Benjamin follows your gaze and chuckles. “I will, thank you for the gift.” His eyes meet yours, and you find a heat in them that makes you feel suddenly warm. You wonder if it’s just your imagination, playing with the handles of your bag.

“Alright, I’ll see you next Thursday?” you ask in a voice higher than usual, and he nods, sitting back in his chair.

“Sure, but I’ll bring breakfast this time” he states in a smooth voice, sliding his glasses on his head.

“It’s a deal.” You smile at him one last time before leaving his office. Once you close the door behind you, you let out a loud sigh.

This might be more complicated than you thought.

* * * * * * * *

Weeks pass and every time Thursdays arrive, you find yourself buzzing with excitement. You notice that your meetings Benjamin are the highlights of your week, and you try not to dwell into that, sensing that there might be danger ahead. The hours spent with him leave you feeling euphoric, breathless, and dizzy, and you often daydream about Benjamin while you’re sitting in class.

Every week, you share a different type of pastry: scones, brownies, cookies, muffins, cupcakes, pies, and you start to associate the sugary treats with Benjamin, wondering if he does the same.

After you’re done with the syllabus, you move on to assignments and quizzes. You find out that they’re fun to come up with, part of you knowing that the person you’re doing them with might be responsible from the pleasure you take from it.

Benjamin’s reading your notes, looking focused when you let your gaze wander over his office, falling on the plants.

“Haven’t you watered those?” you ask, scandalized. The peace lily’s leaves are falling and look soft, while the ZZ plant’s leaves are turning brown. Only the cacti look healthy, and you frown.

“Oh no, I have” Benjamin asserts to defend himself. You scoff.

“Well, you must be really bad at it.”

He laughs “You’re a critical person, did anyone tell you that before?”

“Never.” You get up from your seat to observe the plants, going around the desk and behind Benjamin. Touching the leaves lightly, your fingers ghost over the shelves.

“Do you want me to take care of them?” you ask, turning back to him.

You smirk when you notice that Benjamin’s eyes were wandering on the lower half of your body. He looks away, and you observe that his cheeks get red. Biting on your lower lip, you repress a nervous laugh. So, is the attraction mutual? That might be good news.

Benjamin clears his throat: “Perhaps you should show me how to care for them.” He seems to have regained some composure and you lock eyes, tension building between the two of you. You’ve caught your breath without realizing it and release a shaky sigh.

“Alright.”

Both looking away from each other, you seem to feel equally awkward. You regain the seat on your side of the desk, studying your notes, and risk a quick glance at him. You smile when you notice that his cheeks are still red, repressing a laugh.

Before you know it, Benjamin and you share inside jokes. You name all the plants in his office: the cacti are called Ernest and Scott, the ZZ plant Gustave (after Flaubert), and you pick the name Honoré for the peace lily. You show Benjamin how to care for each plant, and he surprises you one morning when he brings a new one into the office, a small dracaena. Your eyes widen when you spot the newcomer, and Benjamin lowers his eyes, looking suddenly timid.

“You might have made me a plant lover” he confesses, and you blush intensely, not knowing what to reply. You both decide to name the plan Virginia, and before you know it, several other plants have made their way on Benjamin’s shelves.

A sense of familiarity grows between the two of you, and you find yourself arriving constantly late to the class you have after your meetings with him. You don’t want to tell him, fearful that he might shorten the moments you share together.

One morning, after you’ve shared tea and a particular savory batch of muffins, he surprises you:

“So, I’ve been gently scolded by Professor Banks” he declares, and you choke on your tea.

“What? Why?” Your heart is suddenly racing.

“Because apparently, his most gifted student constantly arrives late on his Thursday classes”

You look up from your cup of tea, meeting his dark eyes. Blushing at the compliment, you get lost in his investigative yet sweet gaze, almost forgetting what you were talking about before.

“Oh” is all you say, unable to form a more eloquent answer.

“Why haven’t you told me?” he looks a bit concerned.

You look away from his face, trying to gather your senses. “I just didn’t want to bother you” you venture, “And it’s my fault, I have poor time management.”

“I’m sure we could find a solution” Benjamin leans against the back of his chair, looking at the books on the shelves. “If we met twice a week, you could leave early for your Thursday classes” he suggests, looking back at you.

It takes the air out of your lungs, because meeting him twice a week would make your life more delicious than it already is.

“Sure” you answer, smiling weakly. “Aren’t you gonna get tired of me though?” you immediately regret the words leaving your lips and internally slap yourself, because this might not be appropriate talk between a teacher and their TA.

Benjamin’s smile widens, his dark brown eyes looking impossibly soft, and his reply caresses you. “I don’t see how that’d ever be possible” he answers, and you feel your insides melt.

Part 4

Thank you for giving motivation to continue this story!! I hope that you like this part, tell me what you think about it?

Also if you have favorite teacher/student tropes, I’m all ears :)

Taglist

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@tooconspicuous

@logan-deloss

@russosbitch

@katedrexel

@crowssixof

@mgghotbimbo

@hagarsays

@ohsorandomlyme

@agentmstark

@stuckysdaughter

@blanchedelioncourt

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@bat-revival

#ben barnes #benjamin greene #gold digger #benjamin greene fanfiction #benjamin greene x reader #benjamin green x you #ben barnes fanfiction #college au #in between breaths #my fics

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youwerenevermeanttofeelalone · 3 years

Note

2+4+jason

2. ‘Can I kiss you?”

4. Kissing on sofa, foreheads pressed together, breathy, soft tender

Peace was a foreign concept until you met him. Even with the unbridled chaos he carried.

Jason was the calm before the storm, and all at once the storm itself. His uproar liberated you as much as it eased the tension on his shoulders.

You couldn’t possibly get any luckier; and if you could, you weren’t planning on trying.

Quiet moments abounded, you liked your space and he liked your constant presence so the compromise was complicit silence.

His silence, you learned, carried more love than the thousands of words other people had spoken in your ear.

If you were less enamored by him you would’ve found it depressing. But he was it for you. How could Jason Todd not be it?

He shuffled beside you, one of the signs that the silence was about to end. He then placed his book down, happy with his progress.

A few weeks ago he had told you he wished he had more time to pick up his reading habit. So you helped him make time.

You couldn’t wait to hear all about the story he had almost devoured in the span of three days. He refused to tell you before he was done which you hoped would change soon.

You wanted to hear his theories and queries, what he disliked about the characters, and what he saw of himself in them.

Jason glanced at you through his lashes. You lifted your eyebrows, prolonging the silence until he huffed a laugh.

You snorted in response and his eyes lit up.

“Are you done with your crossword?”

You hummed. “It was easier than I thought it would be.” Shifting to face him, you asked, “How’s your book?”

He changed his position too. “I think I’m finishing it tomorrow.”

“Such a nerd,” you playfully said.

He scooted closer, tilting his head as he watched you put your crosswords aside. You were the only person he had ever met who bought books filled with crosswords.

Jason placed his hand on the back of your head and you brought yourself forward, onto him and his refreshing warmth.

You found a long time ago that Jason was your favorite oxymoron, terribly good and imperfectly perfect with his cool passion and controlled chaos.

Steel-blue eyes pierced yours as you pressed your forehead against his and his breath caressed your face, gifting you the lingering smell of those strawberry candies he liked so much.

“Can I kiss you?” He always asked, as though afraid your answer would suddenly change.

It never did. “Yes.”

Jason smiled. He often did around you, perhaps your favorite achievement.

His lips were too soft for somebody who didn’t have enough time to care about himself, for somebody who always put others before him. And his kiss was too tender for somebody who had been through so much.

You savored every caress of his lips and relished in every sigh.

Smiling at him, you kissed him again. He kissed back —he always did— until you pulled away in a giggle.

“What’s got you so happy, baby?” he asked, softly massaging the nape of your neck.

“You.”

Always him.

#jason todd x reader #jason todd x plus size reader #jason todd

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mandoinevarro · 4 years

Text

WILL BUY STOLEN GOODS FOR LOWER PRICE

Rule Maker, Rule Breaker: Chapter 1

Words: 8.4k

Rating: E

Warnings: shooting, non-descriptive death, SMUT, fingering, mentions of masturbation, AND masturbation now that I remember, penetration, creampie! just general filth, gambling?

a/n: SO literally nobody asked for this, but I decided to turn NO REFUNDS into the prologue of a short series (you don’t really need to read NO REFUNDS, it’s only for context.) Anywayyys heavy feelings, heavy plot, heavy smut. Have fun.

……………

Maker, you need to start cheating. That way you wouldn’t be in the middle of a staring contest with your cards, like you can change their colorful drawings and numbers if you only glare hard enough. You’ve never been particularly good at sabacc, but a little luck wouldn’t hurt, especially since this is the third round in a row you lose. Duma deals the last couple of cards across the coal black table and stacks the deck, signaling the start of the game.

Well, you suppose it doesn’t really matter; you doubt your sabacc buddies have better hands. These days, everyone in Nevarro is short on luck. Luck and food and water. Others are less pessimistic: As soon as Greef Karga glances at his hand he leans back on the carcass of a cantina booth and slaps his belly. “Ha!” he bellows, “by the end of this round, you filthy gutter womp rats will have to borrow from your womp rat mothers to pay me.”

“Quit bluffing, Karga. We know you don’t have shit,” Cara mutters. She picks up her cards and pulls a face like she bit on lemon, but still the veteran goes all in, pushes forward a couple of stabilizing coils, an identity beacon you could’ve sold at a decent price some months ago and—maker—even a pouch of nova crystal dust. Nobody here is stupid enough to gamble with food, but you’re surprised that even nova has lost its worth and been demoted to casino chip status. “This place smells like shit.”

“Bad bluff, piss-poor trash talk too,” you taunt. “Looks like all that time doing business with Imperials smoothed your brain, Karga.”

“Ex-Imperials,” he corrects. The ex-Guild leader slides a few more credits to the center of his ex-cantina’s table. “We live in a jolly Republic now, didn’t you hear? You’ve been liberated.”

“Fuck ‘em.” Duma turns her head, spits on the melted floor. “Can’t eat liberation, can I?” She throws a few more worthless credits onto the growing pile of nothing. At least, for now, it’s nothing. Credits and ship parts and every other type of currency haven’t meant anything but props in Nevarro for five months, when the siege began. That whole mess with troopers and Greef and Cara was bound to bring some repercussions—aside from making Karga’s cantina look like a volcano erupted inside. For five months, Imperial forces have surrounded the planet, and for five months, food and resources haven’t been allowed inside. They won’t let up, rumor has it, until they find the culprit: one particular Mandalorian with a valuable asset. They think he’s still hiding somewhere in the planet, but you know better. You watched the Razor Crest’s fly off-orbit and leave everything behind. Everything and everyone.

“This place smells like shit,” Cara repeats.

“Not shit,” replies Duma, “ash.” She picks up a card from the deck with long fingers. “You never did explain how that Mandalorian managed to torch this place.”

Cara’s sabacc face melts. Her fingers tighten and bend her cards as she exchanges a complicit look with Greef. “Never said it was Mando.”

“Who else? I was there in the first shootout. That hunter was fierce.” Duma dons a wolfish smile, because this is how she always wins: She plays with people, not cards. In fact, she abandons her hand face-down on the table and—oh no—gives you a once-over. “You knew him well, didn’t you?” You almost want to show her your garbage hand so she doesn’t bother trying to throw you off your inexistent game.

“Swung by the store a couple of times,” you answer as casually as you can manage and pretend the most interesting book is written on your cards. “But we weren’t exactly chummy, if that’s what you’re asking.” Creeping warmth attacks your face and there’s no stopping it. Shit.

“Funny, could swear I saw him leaving your store more than a couple of times.” You feel Duma’s eyes piercing into your forehead. “Pretty late at night, too.”

“Is that so?” Cara pipes with a lopsided grin.

“I thought you two were…friends,” Duma adds.

“Yeah, well,” you mutter, “you thought wrong.” Friends don’t leave friends to their luck in the middle of a fucking siege. It’s the same prickly thought that’s plagued you since you watched the Mandalorian take off triumphantly. It’s a stupid feeling. He was under no obligation to take you with him. You didn’t lie to Duma, you two weren’t friends. You couldn’t even call what you had a fling, even those require some degree of making-love-below-the-stars, quoting-passages-of-Naboo-Nights-to-each-other romance. Flings are shooting stars. No, your…thing, whatever it was, did not belong to the heavens. It was earthy. Human. It was counting credits and arguing about fuel prices or old modulators. It had weight—too much, apparently, to escape gravitational pull and fly away with him on the Crest. It was doomed to planets, both feet planted on the ground.

Still, you remember times when earthy was good. There was never anything airy or celestial in the way he’d take you. The shoved clothes, the harsh grunts, the rough hands, the pleasure, it was all palpable and primitive; earthy was dirty. Your furtive encounters had beating heart of their own, and there was always hard evidence left behind in case either of you ever needed a reminder: marks on the skin, ripped clothes, stained bedsheets. The bruises he left always took too long to heal, as if his touch enhanced your mortality, made you more human. Stars, those moments are what you miss the most. Five months is a long time to be neglected of touch—six, actually: five months since the siege, six since he last came to you. Earthy expires.

It’s not like there’s nobody in the planet willing to help you soothe your needs; quite the opposite, actually. Lately, it seems like handjobs are the new Nevarran handshake. Just last week you caught Cara feeling up some pretty market girl in an alley. You saw her, she saw you, you rolled your eyes, she grinned and got back to work. You were almost offended. Everybody’s screwing their time through the siege, while you’re left with nothing but reruns of filthy memories with the Mandalorian. You just know nobody but Mando will do. You replay your moments with him like a sad, mental porno on the nights you spend trying to get yourself off. Trying and failing, like having to put out a fire by spitting on it, because the only person in the galaxy with a hose is too busy playing hero lightyears away.

“Last round. Place your bets,” Karga announces and pushes a few more trinkets forward. Cara follows, and you pat around your pockets for something to lose. It’s all just rusted metal anyways. Only…shit, the last three games drained you. And Duma reads it on your face like you’ve got “BROKE” written all over your forehead.

“All out, huh?” She reaches down the table for her bag and drops a beskar pauldron on the table with a thud. A Mandalorian pauldron.

Cara purses her lips and balls a fist, but Greef shoots her a warning look. As if cantina brawls could make this place look worse.

“Still can’t believe you didn’t take anything that day,” Duma continues, shaking her head. “Regret it?”

“I’ll regret it,” you answer and go fish, as if a new card—the right card—could fix a life’s worth of bad luck, “when you learn how to chew beskar.” That earns you a signature “Ha!” from Karga and a cocked eyebrow from Duma. She can arch her eyebrows all she wants, but that much is also true. You don’t regret leaving the Mandalorian covert empty-handed.

You were the first on scene that day. After the smoke cleared, the remaining imps left to lick their wounds, and the Crest flew away, you went to check on Karga’s child, his pride and joy. You were met with a gruesome scene. The cantina, Nevarro’s most sacred landmark, had been reduced to its black skeleton, third-degree burns all over, gone. It sounds dramatic, but the cantina used to be the closest thing to a place of worship on this planet. God Booze was dead.

You kicked around the bar’s guts, until you found a gaping mouth on a wall, leading down, down, down into Nevarro’s entrails. Finding purgatory would’ve surprised you less than what you stumbled upon: an underground tunnel, an abandoned covert, and a sinister, unguarded pile of Mandalorian armor. Stars, it would’ve been so easy. You could’ve hoarded the spoils and stashed them away for better days. That amount of beskar could’ve bought you a one-way ticket out of this dumpster and an early retirement. But when you lifted a helmet, it stared back. It was blue and definitely not his, but Mando was all you could think of while you studied the helmet’s unique curves and creases. You heard his exasperated sighs when you got on his nerves, his moans when you’d touch him. And you just couldn’t do it. You sat back and watched as this skughole’s scavengers crept into the tunnels to pillage. Easy as that, everyone in Nevarro but you and Cara now has a beskar toy or two. Soon enough, this planet will house the wealthiest corpses in the galaxy if the siege is not lifted before reserves run out.

Karga clears his throat. “Well, ladies first. Let’s see those cards.”

Duma ignores him. “You know,” she tells you, “I’ve more beskar than I know what to do with. I’ll trade you a vembrance for a couple of ration packs.”

“And what am I supposed to do with a Mandalorian vembrance, play dress up?”

“The cards,” Greef urges.

“You’ll be rich.”

You snort. “The rich don’t starve.”

“Give me a break, we both know you’ve got portions to spare.”

Elbows on the table, you lean forward and closer to Duma. She sniffs weakness like a Corellian hound, and if you falter she’ll sink her fangs. “I’m not interested in your fucking loot.”

“Cause it’s stolen? You never had a problem with that before.” She mimics your move and leans closer. Karga fiddles with a coinage of calamari flan, like you’re both Canto Bight slot machines and he’s trying to decide where to put his money. “What, did you grow morals all of a sudden? Or maybe, you’re too worried of what your Mandalorian friend would think.” You flinch. She smirks. “Oh my, what would the disgraced hunter, code-breaker, cult member say—”

The tiny noise of Karga’s coinage clinking on the table is not enough to distract you from the verbal beating Duma is laying on you. But his voice—like he got the air knocked out of him—is enough to grab your attention when he murmurs, “Ask him yourself.”

Cara, Duma, and you turn to Greef Karga, who stares saucer-eyed at the window. All three of your heads move simultaneously, guided by the line of his eyesight. Outside the window, on the deserted street, stands a trooper barking orders. It’s one of those in all-black armor, the extra trigger-happy ones with a side of god complex because they think the change of color magically makes their aim less shitty. His blaster is drawn (surprise, surprise), and on the receiving end of its barrel…

Maker’s fucking mercy.

You don’t even see the blaster shot, only smoke snaking out of a hole on the shiny breastplate. The trooper plummets to the ground like his puppeteer cut off his strings: no last steps, no resistance. Now, anyone else would’ve walked away from what’s clearly worm food without a second look, but one does not become the best bounty hunter in the parsec by taking chances. A mountain of unpainted beskar looms over the corpse and kicks the blaster off the imp’s limp hand. The Mandalorian sheathes his own weapon—that blaster you’ve tweaked and polished so many times you know it as the palm of your hand—and scans the perimeter for danger.

You don’t tell your legs to move, but they don’t need the command. You find yourself trailing behind Cara, Duma, and Greef, rushing for the door. Outside, all four of you stumble and stop on your tracks to blink stupidly at the Mandalorian, the way children stare wide-eyed at soldiers on military parades. But this warrior stands grander than any Republic or Imperial officer you’ve ever seen. He’s clad head to toe in silver beskar—except for one armorless thigh that makes his other leg look even bulkier. His old armor, the one you used to shine and buff, is gone. This one you’ve only seen from afar, on that day he crashed the imps’ safehouse, and later when the battle broke out. You know it’s him, but in this new getup it’s easy to doubt. Maybe he’s a stranger. Maybe he won’t recognize you.

The Mandalorian studies each of you one by one, his hand near the blaster in case he spots any enemy faces. The hand twitches when he sees Duma—she doesn’t have the cleanest reputation around here—but she’s shocked and unarmed, so his arm relaxes. To Greef and Cara he gives short nods that they return.

And then you. He actually takes a step back when he spots you, like you pushed him square on the chest. The helmet lingers on you and tilts, shamelessly rakes over every feature like he’s memorizing you. You hold your breath. It reminds you of the day you met, that weight on your chest from knowing you’ve been seen. That’s how you know it really is Mando: Whenever he stares at you, you feel it in your bones.

You realize the moment’s dragged out for too long when Karga clears his throat. The spell breaks.

You and Mando look bashfully away from each other. You squint up at the clouds, your hands stiff on your waist in a forced, generic, looks like rain! pose. He turns to his boss (ex-boss? enemy? You never asked for an update on Mando’s most recent status in the Guild) and mutters a short, “Karga.” To Cara he’s warmer, offers a comradely clasp of hands and a pat on the shoulder. “Good to see you again.”

“You too,” Cara drawls, as she stares suspiciously between you and Mando. You squint harder at the clouds. “Didn’t expect you back during a siege, though.”

“I have to…” he spies a furtive glance at Duma and lowers his voice, “I’ve something to do here.”

Duma rolls her eyes and clasps her bag across her chest. “Don’t worry, Mando. I’ll leave you girls to catch up on the hot goss.” She strides into the cantina (probably to bag the bets, the asshole), and goes back outside.

She points at the window of a crumbling building. “Careful with snitches.”

You glance back to the window. Nothing. Jerk. Duma’s not above a made you look moment, apparently. You turn back to her but she’s already disappearing into an alley.

Cara waits until she’s gone to grab the Mandalorian by the arm. “Mando, where’s the…” she glances at you and hesitates. You fold your arms and raise your eyebrows at the veteran. If she expects you to leave graciously like Duma she’s got another thing coming. You’re actually very, very interested on the Mandalorian’s hot goss. Especially it comes with an explanation as to why he left you stranded here. Even though he doesn’t owe you one. Technically. “Y’know,” she finally says and drops her hand. “The asset.”

“On the ship. I need to get back.”

“You, my friend, need to lay low,” Greef says with a raised index. “Every imp in Nevarro will be looking for you. Maker—” he spreads his arms “—they already are! And someone must have heard the blaster shot. You have ten minutes or so until an Imperial squadron gets here. The, uh, asset will be fine.”

“The asset,” Cara exclaims, “is a ch—is…is delicate. He can’t just leave it on the Crest!”

Mando interrupts their game of taboo. “Cara,” he starts, “you go to the ship and check on…the asset. Please. I landed where I did last time. I…I’ll lay low in the covert.”

“About that,” Greef mumbles. He looks at Cara for support, but she steps back and raises both hands: You say it. Greef sighs. “They…they found the tunnels, Mando.”

The helmet crooks slowly to study Karga. “Who’s they?”

“Everyone. Half of Nevarro is living down there, you…you can’t go back.”

Silence.

You imagine all four of you go through the same checklist: Even if Cara didn’t already have a top-secret assignment with whatever the asset is, she doesn’t have a place of her own yet. Every week, she crashes on one of her sweethearts’ couches. On their beds, more likely. There’s no way Karga is letting him near his house, not after what happened at the cantina. That leaves…

“Stay with me,” you blurt before you can really think it through.

≈

The cramped storage room you call a home sits a story above your store. It’s four walls and only the essentials: a bed, an armchair, a table, a stove, and the only detached room is the refresher. It’s enough for you. But the Mandalorian looks like he squeezed into a dollhouse when you usher him inside and close the door behind you. He stands in the middle of the room, all fighter’s bulk and grandiose armor, like he’s afraid he’ll break something if he moves. As if he’s never been here before, which couldn’t be further from the truth. The apartment may be small, but it’s so filled with memories you could turn it into a museum of your dirty escapades with him. And if you look to your right, you’ll see the armchair where he sat while I went down on him on a stormy night.

“So,” you say and lean against the front door, “business or pleasure?”

He moves to stand to the side of the window opposite the front door and his glove moves the old washed out curtain to the side to peer into the street. The sun is setting, and the last streaks of light paint the beskar with warped yellow-orange streaks that stay as still as an undisturbed pond. So this is how he wants the evening to go: quietly and with a reasonable amount of distance between you. Disappointment knots in your stomach.

“Business.”

You open your mouth to cut into the silence, but you’re all out of words. Maybe you’ve lost your touch. It used to be so easy to tease him, but now…a heaviness seems to weigh down on his shoulders, some heightened sense of duty. But also determination: He stands taller now, prouder, like he woke up one day and knew exactly what he needed to do and why. Whatever that purpose is, you’re pretty sure it doesn’t involve you. You’re a detour, and not even the fun kind, judging by the space between you. Maker, this man used to pounce on you. Has the siege really battered you up that much?

“Been busy?” The sudden question startles you. He’s never been one to break the ice, that was usually your job.

“Sure.” Nope, not at all. “Store and all.” You closed the store three months ago. Turns out nobody buys equipment for their ships when they can’t fly past the atmosphere. “Plus, somebody needs to keep Karga distracted from his mourning. You owe him a cantina.”

“He told I did that?”

“Just a guess.” You move a couple of steps forward, like you’re approaching a nervous lothcat. When he doesn’t move away, you sit on the armchair, a little closer to him. “You like that flamethrower too much.”

“That what you four were doing in there?” The helmet moves to the side so he can spy deeper down the street. Always careful. “Assessing my damage?”

“No, just sabacc. Different kind of damage.” He’s making small talk. The Mandalorian, whom you’ve overheard have conversations solely based on grunts and sighs, is chatting with you. He’s not just answering out of politeness, he’s prompting you to go on, to keep running your mouth. That’s something he said once between thrusts, perched over you right on this floor: Keep running your mouth, see what happens. The memory warms your neck. Maker, not the point. The point is, before, he always said you had a smart mouth. Sometimes he’d chastise you for it, other times he’d encourage it. And you used to have the suspicion (or, let’s face it: fantasy) that he actually liked it. That somewhere hidden, beyond his pride and honor’s jurisdiction, he enjoyed the teasing and the banter, the challenge of having to deal with you. Better yet: More than once it crossed your mind that he got off on it, too. It’s been a long time, but some of that might remain. Maybe you’ll take his advice: keep running your mouth, see what happens.

You sit straighter, arch your back a bit just in case he’s watching. “You interrupted a round with your little stunt.”

“Yeah?” The helmet doesn’t move, but his hand runs up the curtain, considering. “Sorry. I bet you were winning.”

That makes you smile. It’s a dig at you. Far and wide across Nevarro, your uncanny ability to lose every single game of sabacc you play baffles locals and foragers alike. Yes, you know you suck, but the game amuses you anyways. You like the trash talk, the double-guessing, the bluff-calling. So much so that you forget to actually play. But what’s important is he’s teasing you, and that’s more than charted territory with him, a match you have a shot at winning. Okay. Game on.

“I was, actually.”

He huffs. “Don’t believe you.”

“Then I don’t believe you’re here on business.” Pause for effect. You can almost see a question mark form in a cloud above the helmet. You lean forward and lick your lips, lower your voice. “I think you missed me.”

You’re used to the helmet’s features remaining impassive, so you don’t look for clues on there anymore. Mando’s hands are more telling. You want to believe you actually see his fingers twitch and clutch the curtain a little tighter, that he takes too long to answer. That’s what trying to read him is all about—blind-guessing and wishful thinking.

“Don’t know about that. Six months and two weeks without your cons, I’m almost rich.”

Down to the week, huh? “Okay, if you want to make it about money we’ll bet on it. Twenty credits says you missed me.”

“Last time I was here you weren’t a compulsive gambler. Store’s doing that bad?”

“Last time you were here,” you coo, “there was a lot less talking involved.” You stare into the visor, and pray he can’t see the desperate hope in your eyes.

Your prayers are answered. In a way. Mando ignores you, doesn’t even look at you. You hear your clumsy attempt at seduction buzz around him like a one-winged bee, crash into the unmoving, unmoved Mandalorian, and fall to the floor in a pointed-lined spiral. You’re so embarrassed you want to step on it. Well, that settles it. Six months is apparently enough for a Mandalorian to lose interest.

“And store’s doing fine,” you lie to try and sway the conversation away from that lame innuendo that missed its mark. He really just wants to talk, then. No big deal. It’s fine. “Nobody gambles for money anyways.”

“Then why?”

You shrug. “Why do you hunt?” He’s never told you, but you saw him chase down a bounty once. He was ruthless, sweating adrenaline and with far too much stamina to only be chasing a bag of credits. “For the risk. The thrill.”

He lets your words float for a second. “You get a thrill out of losing?”

You roll your eyes. “I only lose cause everybody knows my bluff.” That is, except you. “You need to know someone to know their bluff. Greef and the others already know me too well. You, on the other hand.” You smile. “If you and I played, I’d get to keep so much of your stuff you’d think I’m half Jawa.”

And, only then, he seems to tense. That stupid throwaway line is what makes his spine grow visibly rigid and his hand drop from the curtain to his belt, where the leather of his glove creaks with how tightly he clutches the buckle. White and blue streetlights that reflect on his armor glide around like it’s water instead of beskar, and they’re your only indication that he’s shifted slightly. Slowly, so slowly you expect his neck to creak like a door, the Mandalorian turns away from the window to look at you. He holds there quietly, and you feel ants running down your back…stars, you’re nervous. For the first time in a while, he makes you genuinely anxious.

“You’re saying I don’t know you?” he rasps under the helmet. No, not really, but if it gets a reaction out of him…

“All I’m saying,” you start, summoning all your strength to keep your voice from faltering, “is you’ve been gone too long.” You try to make it sound a bit playful, but the words come out tasting bitter when you remember the sharp little edge that’s been digging on your side. He left you here, it whispers, he left you here and didn’t bother looking back. But a heavy boot suddenly drops forward and you’re forced to stop nursing your grudge to try and predict what Mando’s next move will be.

With every step he takes, you’re instinctively swallowed deeper into your armchair, until he’s looming over you. Stars above, the sheer size of him is enough to block out most of the artificial light coming in, and you’re left to squint in the blue twilight. Maker, you don’t remember him this big, this intimidating. Five months ago you would’ve smirked and opened your legs wide. C’mon, I don’t bite unless you ask, you would’ve teased, but now…now you think maybe you are the one who doesn’t know him anymore.

But some things never change, and having him so near still makes your thighs press together. If anything, this new foreignness, the inherent threat of a bounty hunter in your home that never quite poked the right nerve before now pulls on your most sensitive areas. It propels your heartbeat on a sprint. His arm moves, and—oh, you want him to touch you.

Visor trained on you, Mando points to the floor instead. “You hide your credits here.” To illustrate (or just to rub it in that he knows) his boot presses down on the loose tile and shifts from side to side. The sharp sound it makes irritates you less than knowing he found the fox clever hiding spot you used to pat yourself on the back for. “You don’t keep them in the store because it’s too easy to break into. The security panel downstairs is broken, but the one up here works fine.”

You can almost hear his proud smirk under the helmet. There’s a reserved side to him, sure, but bastard can be arrogant when he wants to. And no, you have no idea how he found the spot, but you’re not about to admit it.

“Congrats, boy scout. You can spot a busted panel and you have flat feet. Want a badge?” Your irritation brings back some of your old snark, but you still flinch when he moves closer and his legs brush against your knees.

“You also keep expensive parts inside the stuffing of this—” he takes a tiny step forward and frames your knees with his legs “—armchair.” Your blood freezes at his words, but it abruptly runs hot as the city’s lava river when you realize how close he stands now. His legs press against the armchair and there’s nowhere to go. You’re cornered.

A leather glove moves close and you hold your breath, before you realize he’s only toying with the tips of your hair. But his fingers dig deeper, tangle on thicker strands and, without warning, give a short but firm tug. It’s a tiny pull, but maker’s mercy, you feel your core pulse. And then, before you can regain some lucidity, his fingers dip lower, where the tips trace a slow line down your nape. He draws featherlight circles on that spot between your neck and your shoulder that he knows makes your toes curl, and—stars, it’s just been too long—you whimper.

“Still so sensitive here,” he whispers.

Once, this shielded man knew his way around your body like it belonged to him. You thought that part of him was lost, that he forgot, that he’d truly been gone too long. Those fears dissipate when his palm curls around the back of your neck to hold your gaze on him, while the thumb of his other hand brushes your lips. You know the drill—you open your mouth and give the orange tip some kitten licks. Mando huffs: You can do better than that. Maker, it should be a red flag, how quickly you comply. That urgent need to please him that had never, ever felt so crucial. An O forms in your lips before you can stop them, and his thumb pushes down on your tongue deep and deeper. You should play hard, make him earn it, bite him. But his finger starts to retreat and you panic—no, he can’t change his mind, not now. You seal your lips, trap him inside your mouth and suck. But his grip on the back of your neck grows beskar stiff, and he forcefully removes his finger…only to glide the spit over your lips. Just like that first time.

The visor looms closer to your face, and you catch a ruptured sigh, the pleasured kind that these four walls know so well. If Mando wasn’t holding you down, your chest would balloon with satisfaction and you’d float. His thumb trails down your throat, wetting its path and no doubt feeling the vibration when you chuckle. He cocks his head to the side in a silent question.

“You owe me twenty credits,” you explain, your breath clouding the helmet’s surface. “You did miss me.”

Mando crouches lower, where his helmet brushes your nose, and gropes the tops of your thighs with those wide palms you’ve been dreaming about for weeks.

“Yeah? You like bets?” You’ve never heard his voice so coarse, scratchy like week-long stubble. Did he change the settings of his modulator? Or is it just rash, pent-up need? “Then thirty credits says you’re fucking soaked.” His fingers butterfly higher up your thighs, almost at the apex. Your legs jerk.

“That’s cheating,” you gasp.

He takes one glove off and settles the covered hand on your hip, while the other disappears between your legs until—stars—he cups your core through your pants. You mewl and he hums when he feels the hot, damp fabric.

“I still win.” He presses the heel of his palm right into your clit and grinds it back and forth. Oh, if you thought you were wet before. The pressure, the friction, him—it all scalds you from head to toe like a fever, but you chase it, greedily push your hips into his palm. His fingers flatten along your slit and grope you tighter. “Gonna pay me? Doesn’t have to be credits.” He pushes viciously into you with that wide, hard palm, preening at the little gasps that escape you. Whimpering, you let your eyes fall shut and focus on something sprouting in your belly. Stars, you’re close—how the fuck are you so close already? It must be all the repressed desire, all that time. Fuck, you’re close—

The Mandalorian halts. You’re eyes flash open to see him straighten and step back, take his other glove off to stuff it snug between his belt and his hip, and remain still as a building. Still catching your breath, you study him head to toe, scanning for a sign of what went wrong. He’s clutching his belt, his stance is too smug. This isn’t him fighting temptation, he’s toying with you. Maker help him, you’re going to kill him. Some corner in your brain reasons that it’s kinda fair, as payback for all the times you messed with him. But in the forefront of your mind pulses the climax he just denied you, cast aside and angry.

Before you know what you’re doing, you push yourself off the armchair. “You—”

Mando beats you to it. A hand on your shoulder and a vembrance across your chest, he lunges forward and slams your back against a wall. He hovers over you, tightly pressed against your body. A fleshy, hard bulge covered by his pants throbs against your belly. Of course. You forgot how much he likes it when you look like prey; how much he enjoys the hunt, whether he admits it or not. The hand on your shoulder trails down to cup your breast. You squeeze your eyes shut and let out a shaky exhale.

“You need it bad,” he breathes as his fingers massage your chest. The movement shifts the fabric of your tunic, brushing it against your nipple. You roll your hips to try and stimulate him, to show you’re not the only one worked up. His erection twitches and you smile.

“You—mmm—you’re projecting.” You grind again to prove your point, but he catches on to what you’re implying and retaliates by shoving his hand inside your cleavage. Stars, you have to punch down the moan surges up your throat when he pinches your nipple.

“You missed this,” Mando hisses, and whether he’s trying to convince you or himself, you don’t know. What you do know is he’s plotting to settle this stupid inkling of a bet in his favor. He wants you to admit you missed him so he doesn’t have to. You know, because it’s exactly what you are trying to do.

You sneak your hand down his torso, aiming for the hem of his pants—but before you can get even with him, he crushes his hips against yours and traps your palm between them. And he’s not done—he wedges his thigh between your legs and rubs it up and down, drags your clit just right. Your mouth gapes in a silent moan as white hot pleasure lights up your spine. You want to get away from it but, maker, his forearm is still stiff against your chest. Even when you grab the vembrance with your free hand it doesn’t budge. You’re trapped between him and the wall.

“Can take care of m-myself just fine,” you croak as a last attempt to hold on to your dignity. “At least when I’m alone I don’t have to fake any orgasms.”

Yeah, it’s a low blow. A dirty fucking lie too, but desperate times call for desperate measures and all. Good news is it gets you a reaction—he immediately stops moving, as if your words punched him off balance. Bad news is you hit a nerve—his breathing becomes harsh like a bull’s, so much so that you expect clouds of smoke to come out from under the helmet. The Mandalorian creeps closer to your face and his forearm digs deeper into your chest. There’s a promise of danger in the dark visor that makes your pulse race, and a primitive instinct blasts emergency sirens. Maker, this won’t end well for you.

Just as you’re about to backtrack and whisper you didn’t mean it, Mando lets go of you—only for a split second, before he grasps your shoulders and turns you around to push your front into the wall. You jerk back on instinct, but he flattens a palm between your shoulder blades and squishes you right back against it.

The helmet rests right next to your ear when Mando growls, “You expect me to believe that?” His hands drop to your hips as he replaces the pressure on your back with his chest. His body weight holds you in place, and he rocks the hard outline of his erection along your ass. “That I don’t make you cum, you little fucking—” You curl your back as much as his body allows so he can stroke himself tighter against you. He groans and kneads your cheeks, moves the flesh in tandem with his thrusts. “I shouldn’t let you tonight, t-teach you a lesson.”

The mere suggestion feels devastating enough to let a pathetic whine tumble from your lips. Before, you could’ve turned this into a game, held out a little longer just to watch him break first. But you’re too pent up, too desperate, too sick of waiting. Your fingers hook on the hem of your trousers and push them down. Mid-movement, he traps both of your wrists in one hand and keeps them pressed against your lower back, while the other one gets your pants the rest of the way down, underwear too. You barely have enough time to step out of them before his free hand reaches between the apex of your thighs. You’re sticky, leaking around his fingers, and pushing back against his crotch like you’ll drop dead if he doesn’t fuck you.

“Fucking wet, fuck…” he mutters. His fingers follow the heat and your pussy clenches around nothing. Stars, if he just moved higher, a little higher where you’re hot and soaked and throbbing for him. But he takes his sweet time, molds the inside of your thighs like clay, pulls the flesh, squishes it together, until you’re writhing against him and leaking down your leg. Your vision blurs. “Can—can I…?” He lets his index finish the sentence, teasing at the edges of your outer lips.

Even with the side of your face against the wall, you manage to nod. “Yeah,” you breathe.

Two fingers slide around your folds and you gasp. Mando moves slowly, collecting your arousal and coating his fingers. Your breath catches when the tips finally push into your entrance—only a fraction before they slide back out, so the rest of his palm can cup along your cunt and drag more slick behind it. He’s strategically avoiding your clit, though, and with both arms behind your back and at his mercy, you can’t reach for it yourself. Fuck, you…you only need to hold on a bit more, he’ll get bored of his game soon enough. That’s it, just a little longer. You waited six months, no way he’s making you beg after a few minutes of teasing.

The Mandalorian eventually pulls his fingers away from your thighs and curses under his breath. You hear the familiar rustling of fabric and a divine zip that fills your eyes with tears of relief. Fucking finally. You brace yourself and relax your pelvic floor in preparation, but it’s barely necessary—you’re so ready for it. Your cunt is open and weeping, he can just slide it in. All this time, with nothing substantial inside you, your lower muscles pump and twist painfully with demanding want. Even with his size and in this position, you’re so turned on he might even be able to bottom out. Fuck, he doesn’t have to move much, a few good pumps and he’ll have you cumming, easy. Stars, what’s taking so damn long—

A modulated, battered moan and a wet noise make you turn your head over your shoulder and look for the source. The low light makes it difficult to make out shapes, but there’s no mistaking what you find below you. Hand wrapped solid around his cock, Mando is jerking himself off. With your cum as lubricant. While he treats you like a piece of furniture he’s only gripping for support. A chemical cocktail of lust mixed with fury spikes your blood.

“Is…wh-what are…what the fuck do you think y-you’re…”

“Say it,” he spits between his teeth, “say you f-fucking need me.”

No, no fucking way. As much as the words burn on your tongue and your clit tugs and begs, you’re not saying it. He left, not you. You waited for him. You turn your head as far back as your neck allows without snapping a ligament and look straight into the visor. And pointedly curl your lips inside your mouth, sealed.

Your act of rebellion lasts a good ten seconds.

“You’re so fucking difficult,” he snarls. He stops tugging on his cock, and for a moment you hope he might indulge you, push into you and stop the masochist torment you’ve talked yourselves into. But when it comes to Mando and you, it’s never that easy. Still not releasing your wrists, he grabs the base of his cock, glistening with your stolen juices, and rubs it up and down the swell of your uncovered ass. You gasp, let your lips part and your gaze fall to where he’s rubbing up against you and refusing to push inside.

He's not going to last long. Swollen and a strangled purple, the head of his cock dribbles warm precum and smears it on your lower back. The veins on his length throb against your ass, and stars, they’d feel so much better inside you. The Mandalorian’s grunts and groans ring more frustrated than lost in pleasure; it’s not enough for him either. He’s torturing you and himself just to prove a point, while you refuse to speak the magic words just to keep your pride. Desperate tears threaten to spill, but you shut your eyes to push them back. Either of you could put an end to it, right now. Maker, it’s on the tip of your tongue: I need you. Spit it out, end it. I need you, Mando, I need you, do whatever you want with me. It doesn’t matter that you abandoned me in this shithole, that you discarded me like faulty equipment, that you didn’t even have the decency to tell me—

The thrusting stops. When you open your eyes, you find the visor fixed on you, cocked slightly to the side, like there’s writing on your face. Mando’s grip on your wrist softens, his frustrated panting slows. Maybe he sees the unshed tears, or maybe your face really is that transparent, because he takes pity on you. Gentle palms on your shoulders, he turns you around to face him.

Night has fallen. Fragments of fluorescent light pour inside through your worn out curtains and give the helmet a fuzzy silver halo. The rest of the armor is shiny black, smudges of light here and there. His head moves around the features of your face, one by one, taking its time. Showdown’s over. He’s not playing a game anymore, not trying to get you to break, he’s just…studying you. Staring his fill of you farewell-style, even though he just came back. It hits you that you don’t know how long he’s staying this time. You open your mouth to ask, but stop yourself in time. If he leaves, he leaves. He doesn’t owe you any explanations.

But when he curls an arm around your waist and holds you against the wall and his cold breastplate, it doesn’t feel like goodbye. It feels like old times—pre-siege, pre-battle, pre-everything—when he confidently grabs your left thigh, sinks his fingers into the plump flesh, and hooks it on his lower back. You drape your arms around his shoulders and hold him closer. You’ve always liked the bulk of him against you, it makes everything feel more real. Buried on the crook of your neck, you hear him sigh when he lets go of your thigh and blindly searches your cunt. With your leg around his back you’re completely open for him, so it takes him no time to find your bud. He presses against it and rubs it in slow but tight circles that make your legs cramp.

You push down on him, demanding more. He groans and complies, inserts one finger and continues rubbing on your clit with his thumb. Maker, this has no right to be so good. He’s doing pretty much the same you’ve done to yourself these past months, but with Mando there are never any ghost sensations, no what ifs. It’s all here and now, and you swear you feel the pleasure of his fingers picking up speed in every corner of your body. He has you moaning and rocking your hips, dripping down his hand, and when he starts rubbing you harder and tighter, you finally whine a tiny, “Please.”

The Mandalorian doesn’t need to ask what you want, but he moves his helmet to look at you square in the face, check if you mean it. You stare droopy-eyed into the visor and nod: yesyesyesyes. Mando groans and grips you tighter. Maker, he’s right, you need it—need the bruises, need his cock, need all of him.

“Fuck,” he breathes. His hand leaves you to grab his cock and guide it to your entrance. He moves it around your lips and brushes his tip against your clit as he looks for your hole in the dark. It doesn’t take long for the head to poke right outside where it needs to go. “Fuck, I don’t—don’t think I can hold back, don’t want to hurt you—”

“Stars, please,” you whine, “I want it rough.” You want it more than rough. After six months, you want it fucking depraved, but neither of you is going to last long enough to make it elaborate. Maker, you don’t care. Right now, you don’t care for risky positions or clever techniques, you want him.

He groans and pushes inside—only the head, still testing, but your walls immediately grip him tightly to hinder any attempts to move away. That’s not what you should’ve been worried about. Fingers tight around your waist, Mando pulls you down as he pushes up. Stars. The brutal thrust reaches the end of you and then some more. Fuckfuckfuck. The dull bam of your skull hitting the wall is suddenly drowned by a slicker, filthier sound coming from between your legs. His length begins to pull out, your pussy complains the whole way, and you can almost hear the Mandalorian gritting his teeth through the sweet torture of feeling you squeeze around him…and thrust back up—harder. He likes the pace and sticks to it—fast, rough, deep, repeat—while you make sounds like you’re choking on air. Stars, it has been long. Long enough to partially forget his size, his fucking girth, currently filling you to the brim and punching high little sounds from your throat.

“Mmmando,” you sob.

Mando groans in response, snakes a hand down to your clit and rubs with the same wild abandon as his pounding. Maker, your memory was never this fucking good. No matter how many details you recalled, there’s nothing compared to the real, human meat of his cock pulsing urgently inside you, hitting your cervix, making you whine. Nothing like his fingers around your waist, or knowing there’ll be bruises tomorrow. The pleasure has teeth, carries a painful bite, but it’s exactly what you need. That tangible grit in his thrusts and his fingers is the missing piece. Your muscles start cramping, you pull him tighter against you—Maker, right there, you can feel it. It reaches your head and makes you dizzy, sheds light on some hidden, shameful words.

“Mando, I…”

“I—fuck—I n-needed this,” he grunts and brings his hand down to feel where his cock is inching out of you, like he has to double check it’s actually happening. Thrust. “Used—used to d-dream about you.” Thrust. Three fingers now push into your clit and draw frantic shapes. You clench your jaw, feel the hot tide in your belly rise faster. Thrust. “Wake up so f-fucking hard—cum in my pants.” Thrust—thrust—thrust.

Maybe it’s his words, maybe the rough pace, but something holds a flame to the dynamite building inside you and it explodes. Maker, your head’s going to burst. You moan long and deep into the spot Mando’s ear might be. Your legs shake, your arms cramp. Months’ worth of frustration gush hot and wet around him, as he babbles encouragement: There you go, just like that, make it fucking good. Your walls are still fluttering, your ears are still ringing, you haven’t even ridden out the last of your climax when his hips pick up the pace.

“Let me—let me cum inside,” the warrior pants, “let me f-fill this cunt…I—I haven’t since—fuck, I didn’t—”

“Yes,” you gasp, “yes, please, Mando, cum, cum inside—”

There’s no space left between you, but Mando finds a way to squish you tighter against him as he pounds into you for a few last moments, until you hear a strangled grunt, and a half-forgotten warmth pools inside you. The extra lubrication drives his last thrust as deep as your body allows. A few more lazy thrusts inside you, short and stunted as you take his load inside you, before he stops. A warm string trails down your leg, and—stars, he’s leaking out. How much did he cum that it didn’t fit inside you? Fuck.

You take turns panting, whimpering, listening to each other’s heartbeats slow to a semi-normal pace. The Mandalorian moves away from the crook of your neck to meet your glossy eyes. He doesn’t say anything, but you think will. You can almost hear his mouth opening, words boiling and rising in bubbles up his throat—

Zium!

It’s your imagination. It’s your ears ringing from that orgasm, your mind making stuff up. But. You could swear you saw a red flash glade right past your cheek. And from the way Mando’s helmet cocks to the side, you know he saw it too. You turn your heads in unison, to see smoke coming out of a hole a breath away from your ear. It takes both of you too long to put two and two together, and—before he can pull out—more of those red flashes are raining down on you.

…………

Edit: Chapter 2 let’s goooooooo

Taglist: @rosetophighlander @hellomothermoon @newyorksins @leo-moon @benedrylcumbersnatch

#the mandalorian smut #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian #din djarin smut #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #mando smut #mando x reader #mando x you #star wars smut

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sellyoursoulforagoodfic · 3 years

Text

Shelbys at Somme: Chapter 7

Thomas X Reader

2873

Summary: Reader gets medical treatment. Thomas is not ok.

by @adventuresintooblivion

They didn’t speak again until the Garrison Pub came into sight. Several men were milling about trying to figure out what the hell was going on. They parted with excited chatter craning their necks to see what Thomas was holding.

“Open the door! If you’re not helping, you’re in the way. Go home. We accomplished what we came here for tonight.”

Only a handful of people remained. Most of them were the Shelbys themselves. Danny paced back and forth in the back of the bar murmuring to himself. Thomas nodded to the small room they conducted their business in. John hurriedly opened it enough for Thomas to set Y/N down on the table.

Y/N sat there swaying back and forth slightly, her eyes closed as she focused on not falling over. Moments later, Thomas draped his coat around her shoulders. A sigh of relief escaped her lips. For the first time, she looked up at the people gathered around her.

Aunt Pol’s face was pale. A shawl was clutched in her hands with her hair unmade. John blinked blearily, but she could visibly see the fatigue drain away as he took stock of her injuries. Arthur simply wouldn’t look at her.

Thomas hovered over her protectively. She could just barely see the redness on his cheek where she’d slapped him. His hand rested lightly against her lower back. She could feel his hand shaking even through all the layers.

“The doctor is on his way but there’s a few things I need to ask you before he gets here.”

Y/N shook her head, “I want to talk to Pol first.”

He stiffened. “Excuse me?”

She lifted her head, leveling her gaze at him, “You heard me, Shelby. I want to talk to Pol first.”

“Did he touch you?” He growled almost under his breath. Something about him changed. His knuckles turned a stark white as they gripped the table. His lips pulled back in an inaudible snarl, eyes wide as he used every inch of self control he had left not to turn on his heels and find whoever had done this.

“Wha…?”

Thomas roared a tremor visibly running through his body, “Did he touch you!”

Understanding dawned on Y/N. She reached out to lay her hand on his. He recoiled. She leaned forward just enough to press her hand over his. Her skin was ice against his rage, but he did stop shaking once she rubbed her thumb across his knuckles.

She spoke softly, “He didn’t. But that doesn’t change the fact that I need to talk to Pol.”

He turned toward her, almost pressing his forehead into her shoulder. “I need answers.”

“And you’ll get them. After.”

Thomas locked eyes with her. Finally, he straightened and led his brothers out of the room.

Pol was left behind, her eyes wide as she adjusted her shawl. “That’s the first time I’ve seen Tommy listen to anyone when he’s like that.”

Y/N glanced down

“Well, you wanted me to yourself. Now what is it?”

“I think Grace is working for Inspector Campbell.” Y/N said it all in a rush, not trusting herself to actually speak if she took her time with it.

Today, the inspector had wanted to instill fear in her and make her a useless pawn in this game of his. She hated to admit that she was in fact afraid. Of what she wasn’t sure, but she’d be damned if she let that decide her actions.

Pol cleared her throat. “That’s… a serious accusation. What is your proof?”

Y/N steeled herself before telling Pol everything. How she’d seen Grace at the opera, the little hints here and there that it wasn’t a place she’d normally be caught dead in. Then the great reveal of the man’s identity.

“I watched her hand him a piece of paper. I don’t know for certain that she is working for him, but it seems like the only logical answer, and at this point it’s dangerous to keep it to myself,” she finally finished.

The whole speech had taken a lot out of her, and she was already exhausted at best. Y/N pulled Thomas’ jacket closer around her, grateful that she was finally starting to warm up. At the edge of her senses, she caught a whiff of a smell that was distinctly Thomas. Stale cigarette smoke, aftershave, and hay. She almost smiled as she remembered the horses he loved so much.

Pol rubbed her eyes with the palm of her hands. “That’s a lot of information to deal with. Why haven’t you told Tommy?”

Y/N frowned, “Right now if I did he’d storm off to kill her. I’m not sure that’s the best idea. Hell, maybe turning her in and ending this now would be preferred. I just… I wanted to ask your opinion.”

Her head jerked up. “This is your business. I’ll have nothing to do with it.”

Y/N sighed, finally letting the exhaustion cause her to sag in on herself, “Well, fuck.”

“I can’t believe you told me this. I won’t be caught complicit if he finds out,” she hissed.

“Pol, I’ve seen the way he looks at her. He likes her, even if it’s just a little, and with Thomas that means miles. This could destroy him. Or it could get one of them killed, and I don’t know if Grace worked at an opera house and just hates it from exposure and this is all some huge misunderstanding. I just don’t know.” Even to her ears Y/N sounded a bit hysterical.

Pol began to pace, thinking. Her heels clicked loudly on the floor, and even if the boys weren’t listening in they’d be able to hear that. After a few solid moments Pol rounded on the wounded girl.

She shook her finger at Y/N. “Listen here. For now, we say nothing. But if ANYTHING goes wrong and Grace is within ten miles of it, you tell him. Understood?”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

“Alright, now let's get those boys in here. He’s probably about to strangle Arthur.”

As soon as the door knob clicked, Thomas stormed back in. His eyes were dark and cloudy as they traveled over Y/N’s exposed skin. Behind him, a small man with glasses shuffled in.

He spoke with a nasally voice, “Hello, I’m Doctor Tanish. Now if you could remove your coat I’d like to get to work.”

Y/N reluctantly shed the layer of warmth she’d built during her conversation Pol.

The doctor immediately swooped in, clicking his tongue in disapproval. “Are there any pre-existing medical conditions I should know about?”

Y/N glanced at Thomas before turning to the doctor. “I have a bullet that’s lodged in my back that’s an inch to the left of my spine by vertebrae T11. They uh… found it and got me with a billy club. A couple times.”

He paused. “That’s very specific.”

“Yeah, well, you hear doctors say it enough eventually you can parrot it back if you need to.”

He nodded before continuing with this ministrations.

Thomas, who was leaning against the wall, had turned a light shade of green when she spoke. His world was slowly closing in on him, a dark tunnel taking over his vision. It wasn’t until Arthur elbowed him that he was able to regain some control and return to the real world.

Eventually the doctor needed to see beneath Y/N’s underclothes.

Pol shooed them out saying, “I’ll be right here with her. Let the girl keep some of her dignity.”

Thomas’ hand snaked out to grip hers firmly. “What did you two talk about?”

Pol’s lips settled into a thin line. “I will not betray her confidence. Just have faith, Tommy.”

He released her, allowing himself to be pushed back out into the pub with the others.

Arthur growled under his breath, “You’re gonna want a family meeting as soon as that doctor is done aren’t you?”

“Am I that predictable?”

He just grumbled and went to take a nap in one of the stalls. John soon followed suit, not really sure what his stakes were in all this.

But Thomas sat at the bar nursing a glass of whiskey. He couldn’t make out much in the way of sounds. That’s why they like that room so much. There were a few moments when a yelp or shout would set him on edge. But all he could do was wait.

It wasn’t until the sun had started to come up that the doctor slipped from the room, blood covering his hands. Thomas sat up straighter, not realizing just how much he’d drunk until he tried to stand.

“How is she?”

Doctor Tanish let out a tired sigh. “Exhausted. Most of the damage will heal itself just fine; however, there are a few spots that I am concerned about. Will you be taking care of her?”

Thomas was a gang leader. He didn’t have time to be coddling people while he was supposed to be out managing things.

“Yes.”

Doctor Tanish nodded, pulled out a piece of paper and began to write. “She has three fractured ribs and another one that was popped out of socket, but it’s back now. Her toe was also broken; that’s been splinted. There was some minor internal bleeding, but that’s been addressed. The thing I’m most worried about is that bullet in her back.”

Bile rose on Thomas’ tongue. “Is it that bad?”

“Well, it was already something that could cause chronic pain and difficulty walking. Now that it’s been agitated, the muscles around it have swollen which would lead to temporary paralysis. Honestly, I’m surprised she’s up and around at all.” He tore the paper of a small notepad and handed it to Thomas, “I’ll have medication waiting to be picked up by the end of the day. I’d get it here earlier, but she insisted that she wouldn’t take opium. Under no circumstances let her walk.”

Thomas nodded dumbly, not exactly sure how to process all the information, but as the doctor left he glanced down at the paper. Detailed instructions were scrawled out in handwriting that was little better than chicken scratch. Luckily, John’s scrawl was also atrocious, and if Thomas could read that, he could read anything.

The door was left open. As he looked at it’s gaping maw, something inside him wanted to run. If he didn’t go in, she would once again become a ghost that haunted his memories. He wouldn’t have to face the words he’d said that night, or back then.

He took a deep breath and walked in. Thomas was a Shelby after all.

〜

Y/N had stopped paying attention to the doctor a while ago. Between the war and her childhood, she’d gone through all this before. Pol on the other hand looked like she was having a rough time. At one point Y/N even caught herself reaching out to hold the older woman’s hand.

“It’s going to be fine, Pol.” Her voice didn’t even quiver.

Pol nearly jumped out of her skin. “Shouldn’t I be saying that to you?”

Y/N flashed her a wicked grin. “Eh, getting hurt comes with the territory.”

“With knowing Tommy.” Pol’s gaze fell. A deep sadness had made a home for itself. It was in the small things. Her posture, her subtle frown, but most of all her eyes. Eyes that Y/N suspected had seen too many people die.

She gave a small tug to get Pol’s attention. “Actually, I was a bastard long before I met Thomas.” Pol’s brows furrowed so she continued, “Da wasn’t exactly a law abiding citizen. Hell, if I’d been a man I’d probably be in the same position as Thomas.”

A silence settled between them as they both came to terms with Y/N’s past. The doctor didn’t seem to care much about what was said around him. He only spoke to instruct Y/N to move.

Finally Pol spoke, “While I don’t doubt the legitimacy behind your claim, you have,” she paused searching for the right words, “a certain level of education that isn’t typically available to people of our status.”

Y/N shrugged and immediately got scolded by the doctor. “Over-achieving bastard child. Not much else to it.”

Pol leveled her with a knowing gaze but enough had been shared that night. For the rest of the evening they either chatted idly or Pol dozed. The continuous attention was starting to wear Y/N out even beyond her limits.

She vaguely wondered if she was going soft after the war. Then she remembered that she’d been traipsing around town, got kidnapped, beat to hell and walked back on her own. Y/N allowed herself a small smile. Today was a productive day.

“It’ll take a couple months for your ribs and toe to heal but they’ll do it with little assistance. You must stay off your feet however. Especially if you ever want to walk again.” Doctor Tanish’s voice startled Y/N out of her thoughts.

She glanced at Pol’s dozing figure before replying, “I’ve beaten those odds before. But I’ll try not to push my luck.”

He gave her a curt nod and left.

Y/N glanced around the room, grimacing as she remembered that her flat was upstairs. She also had no way to pay for it now until she was healthy enough to work again.

A soft knock got her attention. There by the door was Thomas, peeking his head through as if he were walking into her bed chamber not his office.

“How are you holding up?” Deep circles had carved themselves underneath his eyes. His already drawn features took on a more extreme form in the dim candlelight.

Y/N couldn’t take her eyes off him. “I’m doing pretty well, all things considering. I might need help upstairs, though.”

Thomas cleared his throat before entering the room. He paused a moment to consider the best course of action. Then with little warning he simply picked her up. She bit back a startled yelp, clinging to Thomas as he moved easily with her in his arms.

“Tommy!” she hissed. Y/N couldn’t properly lift her arms to wrap them around him securely, so she clung to the front of his shirt with all she had. Her knuckles turned white instantly.

He simply chuckled. “I think that’s the first time you’ve called me ‘Tommy’ since you got back. Maybe I should pick you up more.”

Y/N could already feel her ears heating up. “Don’t try and distract me with flirting.”

“Why not? It usually works.”

She didn’t reply as they reached her room. With horror she realized that her key was still in the pocket of her jacket. Which was probably in the back of some copper’s car.

Thomas seemed to read her mind, “You don’t have the key anymore do you?”

She shook her head.

He gently set Y/N down, careful not to jostle her. Then produced a pair of lockpicks, making quick work of the shoddy lock. A few moments later Y/N was sinking into her mattress slowly.

Thomas kneeled beside her. She couldn’t see him; the darkness clouded his features. He reached out, fingertips the barest touch against her skin, to brush her hair out of her face.

Y/N would later blame the overall shittiness of the day for what she did next. She leaned into the touch. Her own hand reached up to cup his and press it to her lips. Thomas froze. But he didn’t pull away.

“Y/N.” His voice was gravilier than usual.

She wasn’t sure how long they sat there, but it felt like all the years that had been lost came back to life in seconds, all at once. Something between them had faded over time. Now was the first time either of them had actually reached back out for it. It was a tenderness they’d never let the world see. A secret of the trenches. A dream of what could be.

Eventually, the spell broke, and she released her hold on him. At first he didn’t pull away. Then he stood, ending the moment all too quickly.

Thomas cleared his throat, “I...I need to head out. If I catch you on your feet, I swear I’ll send Aunt Pol after you.”

Y/N chuckled, and pretended her smile was as genuine as she wanted it to be. “I’ll have to be careful and make sure you don’t catch me then.”

He rolled his eyes as he closed the door behind him.

Y/N let the darkness envelope her as she rolled onto her back. Her movements were stiff with pain. Exhaustion seeped into her joints and with Thomas gone there was nothing left to distract her.

For the first time since it’d happened she let her mind wander over the events of the day, a sob ripped itself from her throat. Then another. She pressed the palm of her hand into her mouth in a desperate attempt to stifle herself. But Y/N couldn’t stop the tears from streaming like trails of fire down her cheeks.

#thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby imagine #reader insert #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby imagine #peaky blinder imagine

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jamestrmtx · 3 years

Text

Fairytale Complex - [Undertale | Sans x Reader]

[Gender Neutral, Frisk's Parent Reader | Slow Burn]

Chapter Twenty One | It's Showtime! (Part 3 of 3 | His POV)

[First] | [Previous] | [Next]

"Should I… Should I give up Frisk's custody?"

"What?"

Having that be the first thing the human asks when arriving at the Judgment Hall surprises him the right amount to make that 'what' come off as a shout. It resonates throughout the echoey room, giving rise to the noise and causing them to flinch and stop walking. At that, Sans sighs and excuses himself; strain arrives in his voice as he corrects himself with, "Why do you think that? Isn't the kid happy with you?"

They avoid his irises and stare at the newly laid-out benches around, these a product of the changes being made to the Underground, and ones they suggest sitting on while they talk. It's obvious they're stalling for time, so he doesn't speak and only follows them there. One glance at the bitter look in their eyes and the sheer uncertainty of their frown makes him stay that way -- waiting for them to act first. Not even the bright light that seeps into the room is enough to shake them out of their distant gaze. Their steps are soft and slow, barely causing an echo as they walk, vastly different from his own set of footsteps. Being any more cautious and quiet would mean they would disappear out of the room entirely. Were he not walking along with them, their presence would be hard to distinguish from the vast emptiness of the place. Even the benches don't suffice to fill out the space surrounding the Hall.

"I'm not sure anymore," they finally reply, tone as icy as their choice of words. He sits next to them and lays a hand over their knee, one he squeezes tight as a way of comforting them. "Toriel seems like someone better fit for that role, so if she holds the same feelings she had about adopting Frisk as she did the first time, then maybe… That's all for the best?" Their voice trembles, though they continue with, "What do you think, Sans?"

The monster pulls his hand back and lets their question simmer in his thoughts for a while.

"Do ya really wanna know?" he asks, meeting their gaze.

"...Yes." Their reply is as weak as the light in their eyes.

Again, Sans gives himself some time to think, needing that more than ever now that they hold him up to such a delicate question. He doesn't want to sugarcoat anything, but -- similarly -- he doesn't want to hurt them further than they already appear to be. A happy medium would be the best choice, though he doesn't know what that is, exactly. Truthfully, he was growing biased whenever it came to talking about them; he was besotted, no doubt, and -- if matters kept on this way -- he had to scold himself for letting his feelings conflict with his job. Seeing them blue was the last thing he wanted, but some things are easier said than done. If they required an honest answer, he had to deliver it. Masking faults wouldn't do any good, in the long run.

"I think you're a pretty wonderful parent. It's the overthinking and overprotective part that you've gotta work more on. Other than that, then you should take that promise you made seriously, so that you can improve and find more strength to avoid those doubts." His hands make their way to their waist as he brings them closer to him. He then sits them on his lap, smiles, and leans in, looking up with that same, yearning visage afterwards. "...And someone easy to love, despite that stuff." His desire to kiss them grows stronger by the second, yet he's aware it's best not to try that currently -- not now, of all times. The human was still healing; his wants could wait for their needs. "I like being around you -- with you. And while I know Tori's a good mother, you're a good parent, too. You deserve to keep being Frisk's parent, just as they deserve having a parent like you."

By all means, this has to be the riskiest move he's pulled so far, and with awful timing, too. He overlooked plenty of factors before placing them on his lap, and -- now -- he's beginning to consider if that's the best thing he could've done. Their hands have difficulty finding a safe area to land on without making him tense up, and the same goes for their sitting position, this one just as stiff as they try to get comfortable without doing the opposite to him. Still, they stay firm in place and smile back, something that doesn't last long when they say, "I've made too many mistakes, and I've... I've bothered way too many people. I can't even feel mad about arguing with Brenda without then feeling guilty seconds later, k- knowing she did so much to pull me out of that bog. I don't deserve to be forgiven." Their hands press against his chest and grab tight onto his shirt, squeezing at the fabric to tug him closer against them. "It's not right."

The monster tries to catch another look at them, though the human refuses by looking down, gaze cast on their lap. "That's on the people you've hurt. You don't get to decide whether you deserve their forgiveness. Or do ya?"

Their hold on him roughens. "Of course not."

"Then why think that? What makes you think Frisk doesn't like you -- or Brenda? Or pretty much... anyone else?"

Sans gets even closer, leading them to press a hand against his shoulder in a weak attempt at gaining that space back.

They look at him afterwards, eyes focused on his teeth. "Do you want to ki-"

He does that before they can even finish with their sentence.

The reminder he's yet to adjust to physical contact dawns on him when he kisses them.

His pulse skyrockets, and it's a challenge not to grow dizzy by his own actions. His hands lay awkwardly on their lap, but he tries to explore elsewhere to prevent that, making him end up holding their lower back. The warmth and softness of their body is a grand contrast from his, something he can feel to be more pronounced when his hand strays to their waist, pudginess felt sharply against the roughness of his touch. He's lost track of how long the kiss has lasted, yet -- right as he's thinking about ending it -- they return it with twice as much fervour, tongue slipping into the space left between his parted teeth. Clumsy movements turn clumsier as he wonders what to do now that they're going beyond a quick and simple kiss, though he doesn't push them away. His soul fastens and he can hear their heartbeat with how close he is against them, the sole obstacle to keep him distanced being the reminder this is the last action he'll get for a while; if again, at all.

He shouldn't be doing this, and while his mind has that thought on repeat, he wants more.

"Doin' mouth-to-mouth again, are we?" an infamous voice comments, this one heard from close by. "Didn't know getting so touchy-feely and tongue-heavy was part of the process."

They get off his lap and stand up; their actions are immediate, even more so than his own. A guarded, almost wary look overcomes all the hard-earned calm they expressed before. Not an ounce of reluctance stays in their posture, and -- in comparison -- they appear plenty more defiant than anything else.

"You've fought all the way here, just to surrender now?"

Sans almost believes he's said that himself with how similar that voice is to his; it's rough and booming, and it arrives from the door of Asgore's old garden.

"This was all one cheap ruse, wasn't it? You never really were angry with any of the monsters, were you?" the same voice asks, his figure emerging from the door. "You've 'fought' with people like Toriel just to make yourself seem like you actually give a shit about your child, but you don't care at all." It's the same man from the bus; a small but no less weak army stands behind him, allowing him to act more confident than before. "If you did, I'm sure as hell you wouldn't be kissing a complicit in murder. You just want to hand the kid over to the first idiot you see and be done with them."

"Hey, bud," Sans says, standing up. "Watch it."

He takes a few steps forward until settling in the middle of the hall, preventing those by the door from getting any closer. "We came here for some quiet n' privacy," he then adds, zeroing his gaze on the man. "So please leave, so I can talk with 'em."

"You should watch what you say," one of the crowd says, stepping from behind the man. "Just what do you mean by 'privacy', exactly? Gonna get it on with that human? Though you were doing that just now, and you've done that before, too -- It makes no sense for you to want any 'privacy' now."

"I don't think I need to explain why me giving 'em CPR and me kissing 'em are two vastly different things." The skeleton continues to get closer, noticing the crowd's doing the same. "And I mean privacy, as in: what we need to talk about 'ere ain't none of your business," he states, gaze narrowing at the woman. "Leave us alone."

"As if we'll let you go," a different man says, joining the woman's side. "You might have (L/N) fooled with your 'feelings', but we're aware of the truth, and we refuse to let whatever this is keep going. Whatever cheap sob-story you told them to try justifying your actions won't work on us."

He glances back to the human when noticing they've grown quiet. They're still standing near the bench, though they soon face the crowd and say, "If you have a problem with that, you can talk to me directly. He has nothing to do with this." Then, they glare at the man, who remains unfazed even as they walk forward. "He's-"

Thud.

The sound follows right after he shields the human from the object hurled at them.

It rests in his hand, large, oval, and porous -- one of Asgore's heaviest garden rocks.

"Stop that."

Thud.

Three are thrown at the same time. Two Sans catches with ease, though one slips right past him and ends up hitting his company with a loud thunk. Worry over them being hurt fades when he looks to their side and sees they've caught the rock in their hand, creating a bruise in their palm -- one they hide in their pocket after shaking the pain away.

"Leave us alo-"

A crash follows before the third thud, leaving shattered glass by the opposite spot to where the man and his crew stand at. Shoes aid with not being cut by the shards as he gives his back to the crowd and inspects the source of destruction, though it's made clear the thud's come from another rock, this one the human didn't turn out successful in avoiding. Blood drips from the side of their face down to their neck, while the rock lays stained by the floor. Regardless, they say nothing and cover the wounded area with a piece of cloth they retrieve from their belongings. The cold look from before returns, but with ire and distaste -- all of that directed at the crowd rather than their own self.

"Say something," the man from the bus says, words aimed at (Y/N), who stays quiet all the while. "The hell's wrong with you?"

"Ditto." they state, lips straight and eyes dull. "You have no business being here. This is-"

"Then your Halloween-edition boyfriend has no business living up there, either."

"That's not what I meant." They approach the monster's side and stay close to him. "This place is dangerous. The walls are cracking, the ceilings are crumbling, and the floors are giving in. The only reason why the Underground isn't available to you is 'cuz it's being made a safer place for you to be in."

"Then why are you here, of all people?"

"I'm here to learn the truth before I decide what to do with Frisk's custody."

Sans tries to stay one step ahead of them, remaining wary over any other attacks. The man glares at him, though the greater part of his attention resides on (Y/N). Still, he nods at one of his companions to keep an eye on him, reminding the monster he hasn't yet forgotten about him.

"So why did you ask about giving up their custody?"

"Because I know I'm not adept enough to raise them with my current state of health. They deserve better."

Anger strikes in the man's eyes. He clasps his hands into fists and clenches his jaw. What keeps him from getting any closer is seeing Sans do the same.

"So you call Toriel better?" the man questions, words spat.

Something unknown ignites in the skeleton's soul, and while he assumes it's because two people he thought fondly of were being spoken ill of, the strength of that feeling makes him believe there's more to it than that.

"Asks the man who threw a rock at (Y/N)," he intervenes, against biting back his tongue.

Sans takes their hand and helps them sit back down on the bench, though he keeps an iris on the crowd and a thick shield around the human.

When finished, he stares back at the man and adds, "You have a minute to wrap things up and leave this place -- before I call for backup."

"Can't fight us alone, skelly?"

"I don't intend to."

He holds the human up in his arms and takes them to the first location he thinks of, all while ignoring those who try to challenge him as he teleports them out of the Judgment Hall.

• • •

"Are you and (L/N) safe? Please give them my deepest apologies. Truth be told, it has been rather difficult to communicate more often, now that my... jail sentence has doubled."

He rests his back against the wall, slumps, and closes his eye sockets for a moment.

"I'm fine," Sans replies, toying with the strings of his jacket. "They got hit by a rock, but other than that…" He glances at his bed, where they lay at as they hold an ice pack to their wound. They give him a quick thumbs-up, allowing him to continue with, "They're okay."

Asgore breathes out a sigh in what he can only assume to be relief. "Be sure to mention my name, if they ever require medical care."

"Got it. See ya later, old man."

"Farewell, Sans."

He sets his phone down and stares at it, gaze blank as he contemplates the situation.

(Y/N)'s question clings to his mind no matter how much he tries to convince himself they're fine.

If someone so devoted to their role as a parent had a thought as wild as that one, then what was keeping them from holding themself back?

What was keeping them from giving up the one thing they found a purpose in?

And if they hadn't brought it up, what would happen then?

"What did he-" The human interrupts themself with an 'ow' when they try to stand up. "What did he say?"

The monster sits next to them by the edge of the bed and leans in, using one hand to hold their cheek while the other keeps him stable -- hovered over their body. "Don't stress about that now," he says, voice quiet. "Just relax."

They smile and keep their cheek in his hand, though theirs places itself over his as they rub their thumb against it. "Worried?"

"It's the third time you've fallen ill in less than a year." He chuckles. "What do you think?"

"I think you need to join me in bed, then." They brush his hand away and extend their arms out -- as if waiting for a hug. "C'mere, babe."

He approaches them without dither, though he's careful not to be rough as he lowers some more and embraces them. Their arms grab his waist and lay him on the little space remaining next to them. The space he lacks they make up for by bringing him close -- enough for him to hear their heartbeat, along with each breath they take. "So are you still going by that agreement letter? Or did you really just bodyguard me?"

"Bodyguard?"

"Don't judge my word choice." They grin. "I'm dizzy and tired." A curious glint reaches their gaze when pulling their attention away from him to look around his room. "You're almost done moving, aren't you? The place looks empty."

"It's better now that you're here, though."

"You never miss an opportunity to do that, don't you?"

He winks. "That's about the last thing I wanna do when I'm around you."

They roll their eyes, only to then grab him by the shoulders and pull him closer. Their breath is overwhelmingly minty, revealing they've just about chewed the entire box of gum he'd seen them take out of their bag. Thankfully, it seems to have worked to some extent, as they don't seem as weak as they did when first arriving at his room. The mint's strength is what's keeping them awake and fighting the nausea shown after escaping through the use of his magic. "Are you really fine?" they ask, smile still there; it weakens, however, and they appear to recall something, confirmed with, "A- And God, I'm sorry. You said you weren't comfortable with making out, and I doubt you mentioned anything beyond kissing on the cheek, too, right? And yet, I… I went ahead and-"

"It's okay."

"No, it's not. I did something you clearly stated you didn't like before."

Sans pokes at their nose with his index finger, gaining an annoyed huff from their part. "And that was around two whole months ago," he says, grinning. "I barely knew much about my feelings back then, but now I understand them a lil' better, and… And what I'm comfortable with, also."

They don't humour him. On the contrary, they grab his finger and soon his entire hand as they force it into a fist. "But it's still important enough for me to remind myself of it." Finally, they push it away and lour. "You don't need to do any of this." Their forehead wrinkles and their body stiffens. "I was in the wrong-"

"For asking me if I wanted to kiss you? I was the one who cut you off mid-question for that."

He stands up and helps them do the same.

"Let's calm down for a moment and think this through."

The skeleton then places his hands over their thighs and looks up at them. "I'm still figuring myself out, but one thing's for sure: I like you. Even if I don't exactly know to what extent those feelings go, what I'm willing to do, and what I'm not, I like you, and I want to explore these feelings with you." They nod and stay silent as he adds, "The one who punched me at the bar -- that friend I told you about -- they had a crush on me for a long time, but I never really was one to care much for that kinda stuff. Then there's the occasional, rare crush I had on other people, but… It was always hard for me to distinguish whether those feelings were romantic or not." He stops to assess their expression and sees intrigue in their eyes. "I was more guarded at the time, since I still had that job at the Hall, and that involved me being a hell lot more distant than I am these days. But now that I've got more freedom to live and just, well… be, I've been able to figure things out about myself -- like how much I enjoy even the thought of having you by my side."

When something cold falls on his hand, he looks up at them to see tears in their eyes.

"Were you that worried about this, puddin'?" He can't contain a laugh when he sees them shed more tears after being asked that question.

They nod and press their lips tight together, holding themself back. "I don't want to screw this up. I… I like you, too, and it feels like… like I overstepped a lot of boundaries for a minute there."

"A kiss that you asked me about first?"

"But then I returned it and did things I wasn't supposed to."

"Did you actually ever ask me if I liked it or not?"

"Well, uh… No."

Sans takes their hand and brings it against where his soul can be felt beating.

"I was, frankly... overwhelmed, but it didn't feel gross or anything like that. And I didn't feel a need to stop or tell you to, regardless." He feels his face burn, and he's sure there has to be some evidence that his face is turning red, yet he doesn't hold back. "Did you forget what we went to the Hall originally for?" His smile widens. "Or did you forget to keep yourself in mind again?"

"It was to talk about my dream from earlier."

"But you still ended up talkin' about Frisk instead. And then I sat you on my lap and kissed you." He then brings their hand to his cheekbone. "Sounds selfish when I put it that way, doesn't it?"

They don't answer and choose to hide their face away against his chest. "Maybe? I… I wanted to kiss you, too, though."

"I did it knowing that dream you had was related to me -- and in a negative way, to boot."

Their hand lets go of his cheekbone and goes to place itself close to where they rest their face at.

"So let's plan something," he adds, holding their back. "Once we're done signing Frisk up in Tori's school, and once you settle things out with your job… We go on another date like the one we had at that hotel, and from there on, we can talk about that dream for real. You'll avoid bringing up stuff that's not directly related to your situation, while I'll avoid my urge to kiss you."

They let out a laugh. "Tell me more."

Sans complies with a grin. "So if everything's sorted out better by then, we can celebrate that accomplishment by having our actual first date -- but at my new place."

"You sure want me to visit you, huh?" they ask, smiling. "Is there… Is there maybe something important you want to tell me, teddy bear?"

He chuckles, winks, and pulls them closer with an arm around their shoulders. "You've read right through me, puddin'."

[First] | [Previous] | [Next]

• • •

IMPORTANT NOTICE

**TL;DR near the end of it**

Sans's (assumed) age (mentioned in Chapter Two) will be bumped from 22 to 29 to better fit his character and overall personality, as well as to complement the passage of time in both this story and its spin-off more adequately (more on that can be found on the author note in Chapter One of said spin-off).

The Reader's/you're meant to represent someone younger who's still learning how to live life and how to overcome slips ups and screw ups. Sans being 4 years older helps portray not only his character as someone who used to engage in science better, but to make the difference in knowledge and wisdom more evident between both the reader/you and him. So basically, if you've played Stardew Valley -- for example -- he'd be around the same age as maybe Harvey, Elliot, or Shane, since they're the most... mature-seeming of the bachelor bunch. Sam and Alex come off more as late teens, while Sebastian is more accurate to describe the age I once gave Sans in this story (don't quote me 100% on this topic, though -- I married Emily in the game and I'm pretty awful when it comes to comprehending videogame lore). A more obvious reason is that Sans seems more mentally sound despite the roughness of his circumstances in the game, something that can be hard to achieve if you struggle with mental health.

**TL;DR: Sans's age has been bumped up a few years to better fit his character and the plot of both stories.**

This was something an Ao3 reader brought up recently, too, so they essentially inspired me to finally make these changes! Please, help me.

• • •

Tag List (Comment or message me if you want to be added to [or removed from] it!)

@the-simp-express

@nektotersh

@disastrous-l0vebug

@therealchickenjoe

@mintyflakes025

@pandaquick

@timelock97

@candle-creeps

@paperb9gs

@merak0

#sans x reader #undertale x reader #lgbt #lgbt themes #gender neutral reader #male reader #female reader #mother reader #father reader #parent reader #chubby reader #long fic #romcom #adventure #mystery #platonic relationships #slow burn

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the-cookie-of-doom · 3 years

Text

Settling Debts

Part 1

Mitch was in the middle of licking spiced rum off Katrina’s breasts when a man came bursting into the room, red-faced and panting. Mitch pulled his loaded pistol off the bed-side table a second later, leveling it at the man while Katrina quickly pulled up the sheet.

“Captain—!” The man stopped short, eyes wide and hands raised. Jones, Mitch recognized after a beat, a new member of the crew. He lowered his pistol. “Captain, you need—to come—with me,” Jones gasped through his labored breaths.

“What happened?”

“It’s Stiles.”

“What happened?” Mitch asked again, demanded. Something cold and awful wrapped around his heart, squeezing, choking him. He looked at Katrina, found the same fear on her face that he was sure was mirrored on his own.

“Please—the beach—you need to see—”

“Get out, we’re coming.”

Jones gratefully nodded and bowed out of the room, leaving Mitch and Katrina to dress in fast, tense silence.

Together, the three of them ran towards the beach. Jones was already winded from his sprint to the inn to retrieve them, so they left him lagging behind. Katrina saw Stiles first.

“Oh God, is that—”

Mitch stopped short, Katrina careening into him. Stiles was strung up before them for the whole crew to see, battered and bloody. Several men were already in the process of cutting him down, and it was only by Stiles’ agonized whimpers that Mitch knew he was even still alive.

He grabbed the nearest crewman and demanded, for the third time, “What the fuck happened?”

“It was the crew of the Ghost, sir. The new captain, he said he wanted the woman, but you keep too close an eye on her. He said—” The man cut himself off, sun-backed face going pale. Mitch shook him roughly.

“What?”

“I’m sorry, captain. He said one of your whores was as good as the other.” That awful coldness inside of Mitch threatened to swallow him whole at what those words meant for Stiles. He was swaying wildly between white-hot rage and shocked numbness when he pushed the crewman away and said, “Find Deaton.”

Mitch found his way to Stiles, though he couldn’t say how he’d done it. One moment he was standing, the next he was dropping down in the sand beside him, hands shaking as he took one of Stiles’ between his own. The only place he wasn’t afraid to touch.

Katrina held Stiles’ head on her lap, gently brushing her hand over his blood-matted hair. She was afraid to touch him, too, not wanting to aggravate his sun-ravaged skin. He must have been up there for hours, while the crew left camp in favor of finding their pleasures in town. Just has he himself had done.

I never should have left him.

“Stiles,” Mitch said softly. Stiles opened his eyes and cracked a smile. Mitch saw red as fresh blood ran down his split lips, dripping down his chin.

“‘M okay, love,” Stiles said, so obviously false it couldn’t even be called a lie.

“You’re not. But I’ve sent for Deaton.” Stiles exhaled raggedly, some of the tension leaving his body. “You’ll be alright, Stiles.”

“What are you going to do?” Katrina asked quietly, glancing around. Painfully aware that for Stiles to have been left so long to suffer, in full view of the other crews making camp on the shore, they must have been complicit.

“I’m going to kill them. Everyone that laid a hand on him. I’ll raze this entire fucking beach if I have to.”

And then Deaton was there, kindly ordering Mitch out of his way, and the sun was setting over the water, and he still hadn’t let go of Stiles’ hand, couldn’t bring himself to pull away, to leave him again.

“Go,” Katrina said softly. “I’ll stay with him.”

Four men came forward to help Deaton get Stiles to the longboats, so they could return to the ship.

“Make sure everyone is on the ship by morning,” Mitch ordered.

“But captain—we just got back, surely we can take a few days—”

“No. Any man that’s not prepared to sail by sunrise can join another fucking crew.”

Mitch found two other men that would follow his orders without question or hesitation, and set off. Night was falling fast, and he intended to ensure it was the last one the crew of the Ghost would ever see.

“Wait!” Deaton’s apprentice, Scott, scrambled into step beside him, struggling to attach a cutlass to his belt. “I’m coming with.”

“You understand what we’re doing?” Mitch asked. Scott had never had much stomach for killing; Mitch tolerated the aversion only because of his training with Deaton. If he couldn’t fight for the crew, he could at least patch them up afterwards.

Scott set his jaw with a grim look and nodded once. “They hurt Stiles,” was all he said, and it was enough.

“Fine. Try not to get yourself killed.”

***

Once the sky had fully darkened, Mitch and his men snuck into the Ghost’s camp, features darkened with soot to better blend into the shadows. Mitch’s orders had been clear and concise: leave none alive.

The first tent held four men, passed out drunk. Mitch stood above the one nearest, covered his mouth to stop a scream, and plunged a knife into his throat. A slow, wet press that made blood gush over his hand, spraying wildly when he pulled the knife free. Around him Scott and the other’s did the same, grim-faced. And so they made their way through the camp like specters, sowing death in their wake.

Eventually Mitch left to track down the captain, already suspecting who he would find. Sure enough Ronnie was waiting for him in the largest of the tents, a sword in his hand and a smirk on his face.

“Why?” was all Mitch could ask. One single word grit through his teeth.

“You’ve made a lot of enemies here, Mitch. Lot of people who don’t like the way you run things.” Ronnie stood slowly, and Mitch’s hands tightened around his blades. “Everyone’s so afraid of you. It’s about time someone put you in your place.”

“You think you can?” Mitch snarled. I will remind you why they’re right to fear me.

“I think I already have. You should really learn to take better care of the things that are precious to you.”

With an enraged shout, Mitch threw his dagger across the tent. Ronnie ducked out of the way, but it was only a distraction. Mitch followed close behind, already closing the distance between them, and brought his sword down in an arc that Ronnie barely blocked.

“I should have killed you,” Mitch hissed. Years ago, when he’d had the chance. Instead he left the bastard marooned on an island, and he’d somehow crawled his way off it and into a stolen captaincy.

“Yes, you should have.” Ronnie bashed his head against Mitch’s and kicked him back, shouting for whatever remained of his men to take up arms. There were few enough for Scott and the others to handle it, keeping them away from his own fight.

It was just as bloody and viscous as the last time they came together. Mitch knew they were evenly matched for strength and skill. He’d barely gotten away with his life last time. But this time, he wasn’t fighting for his own life; he was fighting for Stiles. He welcomed the numbness as a shield against Ronnie’s attempts to taunt him with everything he’d done to Stiles, and gave into the pure, white-hot rage, letting it guide his movements by pure instinct.

Mitch was wild, feral, tearing at Ronnie with blade and nails and teeth, grappled with him in the sand and chased him through the camp, ringing steal announcing their presence to whomever still survived.

Finally, when they were both bloody and exhausted, Mitch’s dagger locked against Ronnie’s sword between them, he made a choice. Mitch dropped his hand, screamed as the sword embedded itself in his shoulder, inches from his throat, and sank his dagger into Ronnie’s stomach.

A wet gasp was his only answer as Ronnie’s eyes went wide, dropping slowly to look between them, at the pool of blood darkening his shirt. Several long moments later his hands slipped from his sword, and the realization set in: he’d lost. Ronnie looked up at Mitch again, finally afraid.

“Did you really think,” Mitch said, voice hoarse and barely above a whisper, “I’d let this go unanswered?” Mitch twisted the blade to hear Ronnie’s strangled scream. “Or did you just think you could kill me first?” Then he wrenched it across one, two, three, four times, cutting raggedly through flesh and fat and muscle, and stepped away to watch bloody, pink entrails spill wetly onto the sand.

Mitch stood there, holding his bleeding shoulder, bloody and bruised and victorious. If only it didn’t feel so hollow.

“Captain.” It was Scott that approached, wary, hands raised and open like he was trying not to startle a wild animal. Perhaps that’s exactly what Mitch was. “Let me have a look at your shoulder.”

Mitch ignored him.

“Burn it all,” he said, staring down at the corpse at his feet.

No one moved to obey.

Killing the Ghost’s crew and captain—that could be excused. They’d come for one of their own, and Mitch rightfully retaliated. But the destruction that would be wrought with a fire—it would surely spread to other camps, to those that had no hand in it. Mitch didn’t care. He turned on his men with teeth bared and eyes blazing.

“I said burn it!” Mitch shoved past Scott with a snarl, picking up a torch and throwing it into the Captain’s tent. Slowly, silently, they followed suit, until a red-orange haze lit the beach. They made their quiet escape to the water as chaos broke out, shouts echoing into the night as the fire began to spread, and finally it was over.

Scott wrapped Mitch’s shoulder with a strip of cloth torn from his shirt to slow the bleeding until they made it to the ship, and Mitch watched the shore burn with grim satisfaction.

#cookie writes #stitch #stiles stilinski #mitch rapp #Katrina harper #the next part will be Stiles and Katrina back on the ship

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lockefanfic · 4 years

Text

Business Trip - Pt 12: Answers

Mina’s eyes finally lift from her notebook, and you are struck the beauty of the young woman - it is a beauty that would not be out of place in a fashion magazine or in a painting in some Japanese history museum. The young lawyer is wearing a short black dress with a plunging neckline, and you found your eyes wandering a little towards the delicious looking cleavage and the creamy, pale vanilla skin of her upper chest.

“I’ve already told you this, but boys aren’t my preference,” she says with a soft tone, “although I do make an exception here and there for… special men.”

“This is our proof.”

At your nod, Park Choa clicks her mouse, bringing up a picture on the large flat screen TV mounted to the meeting room wall. Seated around the large table in the middle of the room are yourself, Choa, Momo, Seolhyun, and Mina; sitting opposite your team are Tzuyu and Sana, the former with an unimpressed, arrogant look on her young features - the latter with a blank, emotionless look on hers.

On the screen is a picture of a battery pack - one of relatively common design, at least externally. But on the side is a small label; such a small thing, but something that would have a massive impact on the fate of two companies and the lives of many dozens of its employees.

“This device,” you continue, “was lent to me by one of your employees several months ago. As you will see, the label reads: Minatozaki Sana.”

A hush falls over the room at the revelation. There it was, clear as day - proof that Tzuyu’s company’s tech was stolen, and proof that Sana was complicit in the theft of said data from Seolhyun’s company.

“We have reason to believe that this device actually contained a hacking program that used the connection my cell phone had to our network to break into our servers and steal the intellectual property that you presented as your own yesterday.”

“That’s not proof at all,” Tzuyu retorts, “that could be any battery pack. There’s no proof whatsoever that it’s any sort of data theft device. For all I know, you bought that this morning and slapped a label with my employee’s name on it.”

“I figured you’d say that,” you answer, and you nod once more to Choa, who switches the display to show a Skype window. On the screen is a young woman, her blue-green hair and circular rimmed glasses making her look a little like she stepped out of an anime or video game.

“This is our IT analyst, Yoo Jeongyeon,” you say, “and she has had some time to retrieve the device from my apartment and analyze its contents. Jeongyeon?”

“The battery pack has been modified to house a hacking device,” Jeongyeon begins, adjusting the large glasses on her nose, “it’s been programmed to hack into the network of any portable device it’s plugged into, before identifying, copying, and transmitting selected data from the host device’s network to a secure server.”

“Jeongyeon, was there any specific data on the device that indicates where the data was sent to?”

“Yes. Server records indicate it was sent to a secure server in Taiwan. I’ve contacted internet service providers both here and in Taiwan, and they have corroborated the transfer of data. The secure server is housed in a building that is owned by Chou Tzuyu’s company. This is all indisputable, unedited hard data that I can send to anyone who wants to see it.”

All eyes turn to Tzuyu, and it was obvious that the young woman was expending a significant amount of effort to remain composed in the face of her accusations.

“Thank you, Jeongyeon,” you say, and the aloof young woman on the screen nods before taking a swig of what appeared to be an energy drink and closing her connection.

“This is preposterous,” Tzuyu says, dismissing Jeongyeon’s statements with a wave of her hand, “and downright offensive. We don’t have to sit here and listen to your baseless accusations. We came here out of professional courtesy, but we don’t have to sit here and simply take this.”

The young woman rises from her chair, anger twisting her youthful features into a scowl.

“Let’s go, Sana,” she says, looking at the seated Japanese girl next to her, who thus far had been silent and wearing an expressionless mask.

“Before you go,” Seolhyun says, the anticipation of revenge palpable in her voice, “you should know that we are planning to sue the shit out of you for hacking a private server, intellectual property theft, and whatever else the fuck it takes to make you regret ever messing with me and my company.”

“Miss Miyoui, if you will,” you add, and at that Mina, who is also present, reaches into her folder and produces a thick stack of paper, which she slides across the table.

“We will see you in court,” Mina says, her tone as confident as ever, “and I will beat you.”

“You? You think you can beat a multi million dollar team of lawyers in court? You, alone?” Tzuyu says, the words almost a hiss.

“Yes, me,” Mina retorts, her face as serene and calm as ever, “I will wipe the floor with you and your company, no matter how many stuck up, expensive lawyers you throw at me. And when I’m done, your company won’t want anything to do with someone who did something as stupid as steal a rival’s tech. Not only will you never work in this industry again; I’ll also make sure you end up in jail.”

“Not to mention that public opinion will against your parent company very quickly,” Hirai Momo adds, “we’ll put our proof out into the public. Social media will take it from there, and not only will your division lose any sort of foothold you may have gained in this industry - your entire parent company will take a reputation hit it probably won’t ever recover from. You’d be making some powerful enemies.”

Tzuyu’s hands have balled into fists. She is furious now, the last remnants of her discipline struggling to retain her composure. Beside her, Sana has not moved an inch, her face still expressionless.

“There is a way out of this,” you begin, “a solution that will result in a favorable result for all parties involved.”

“Oh yeah?” Tzuyu retorts, “and what might that be?”

“We will buy out your division of your parent company. That includes your entire staff and intellectual property, including, of course, the intellectual property you stole from us. We then announce the acquisition of both your division and FNC Inc. at our presentation tomorrow.”

“If we buy your division, we promise not to divulge your little theft to the public,” Momo adds, “and we gain a new division of staff and an office here in Taiwan. You gain the privilege of, well, not going to jail for intellectual property theft.”

“That’s blackmail. You still haven’t proven that we did anything. You can’t force us to sell our division to you just because you’re accusing us of theft,” Tzuyu says, although the desperation in her tone betrays the cracks in her initially impenetrable armor of confidence.

“We’re giving you the opportunity to get out of this scott free,” you answer, “everyone in this room knows you stole the tech, and we have ironclad evidence to prove it. Your choice is simple. Either throw away your entire career and face possible jail time, or swallow your pride and join our company. Who knows, you might even like it.”

The young woman bites her lip, looking very much like a cornered animal. Her fists are still clenched, her brow furrowed as she contemplates her options.

“We’ll get back to you in two hours,” Tzuyu says, and without further word, she gathers her laptop and bag before storming out of the room. Beside her, Sana rises, her face still blank - but when you lock eyes with her for a split second, you notice that her eyes have an unbearable sadness about them that breaks your heart.

The Japanese girl walks slowly to the door and leaves the room; involuntarily, your hand rises as if to beckon her to stay. But then she is gone, leaving you staring at a closed door once again.

“We have those bitches!” Seolhyun exclaims as soon as Sana leaves, “They’d be stupid not to take that deal. I really wanted to make introduce the tech myself tomorrow… but I’m just happy they’re not getting away with what they did to us.”

“Me too,” Momo agrees, “speaking of which, we need to get some logistics ready for tomorrow - assuming they take the deal, of course. We’ll need to set up the presentation to introduce both FNC and Tzuyu’s division as our new acquisitions.”

“We’ll also need to take care of the legal paperwork,” Mina adds.

“Right. Momo, you take Choa and Seolhyun and work on the presentation. Mina and I will stay here and wait for Tzuyu’s decision. In the meantime we’ll work on the legal paperwork and have a contract ready for them to sign.”

“Roger that, boss,” Momo says with a smile and a mock salute, glancing at both you and Mina before adding, “you two have fun.”

You catch a hint of suggestiveness in your girlfriend’s smile and the weighted look in her eyes - but you don’t have time to question her as she takes Choa and Seolhyun and leaves the room.

You let a sigh out and lean back in your chair as the three girls exit the room. You weren’t enirely sure how Tzuyu would react to your claims, but you were thankful that it at least looked like she was going to consider your offer.

“Well, I’m glad that’s over and done with - the rest is up to Tzuyu now,” you say.

“Agreed,” Mina replies, her expression as calm and stoic as ever as she jots down some notes in her notebook, “that went as well as we could have hoped. There’s no way they reject that deal. They’ll accept it.”

“A lot of it will be thanks to you, Miss Miyoui. You scared them out of taking us to court.”

“It wasn’t scaring them. It was a promise. I would have beaten them, no matter what they threw at me.”

“I believe it.”

“And also,” she adds, “please. Just call me Mina.”

“Sorry, Miss- err, Mina. You’re not officially an employee of JYP, so I didn’t want to assume anything. And while we’re on that topic, I know you were hired to take care of the legal matters related to our acquisition of FNC, but I’m sure you could have a job with JYP if you wanted it.”

A slim smile appears on her lips, but Mina’s eyes don’t leave her notebook.

“Why, so I can join your little group of women that you fuck at will on a daily basis?”

You are taken aback slightly by Mina’s frank statement, although at the same time you weren’t surprised given her forthright nature.

“My relationships, personal or otherwise, with my colleagues are purely consensual.”

“I’m sure they are,” Mina replies, “and I didn’t say I have a problem with it.”

“I’ve already told you this, but boys aren’t my preference,” she says with a soft tone, “although I do make an exception here and there for… special men.”

“Is that so,” you answer. You smile slyly. You liked where this was going.

“Tzuyu says we have two hours. Better make the most of it.”

“And what did you have in mind, Mina?”

Mina rises from her chair, a slim smile on her perfectly shaped lips as she approaches your chair. With no further prompting or pretense, she reaches for your tie and with swift movements, she undoes the knot and slips the tie from around your neck.

You are wondering exactly what she has in mind when she folds the tie in half and presents it to you, as though she were giving you a gift.

“If you impress me, I’ll consider joining your company,” she says, “Tie me up. Strip me. Make me wet. And then, you can fuck me.”

You weren’t exactly a bondage enthusiast, having only indulged here and there with light experimentation in your younger days, but you weren’t one to turn down a gift when it was given to you, and certainly not a gift from a woman as beautiful as the one right in front of you.

You take your tie from Mina’s hands as you rise from your chair. Her eyes meet yours, and notice that her eyes are beginning to show signs of something other than businesslike indifference - there is a little bit of lust there, a little bit of need beginning to show beneath her prim, proper exterior.

You can’t resist anymore; you lean forward and bring your lips to hers. Your lips press hard against each other for only a moment, before Mina’s tongue slides against your mouth, and before you know it your tongues are duelling, pressing and swirling around each other. Her kiss is frantic, fierce, the complete opposite of her demure personality.

Mina breaks the kiss and you lock eyes with her for a moment before you are suddenly very aware of the tie in your left hand, and with a quickness and aggressiveness that surprises even you, you grasp the young woman by her slim shoulders and turn her around. Grasping her wrists, you bring them behind her back and begin to tie up her hands.

“You like being tied up, do you, Mina?”

“Mina?” she says to your surprise, “It’s Miss Miyoui to you,” she finishes. The smile on your lips widens.

“Do you like being tied up, Miss Miyoui?” you ask, finally finishing the double knot that is binding her hands together behind her back.

“Yes,” she answers, her tone a little breathier than usual.

You bring your hands to her shoulders, relishing the feel of her soft, blemishless skin - like perfect vanilla, smooth and pale. Mina’s head falls backward slightly, and you hear a soft breath of air escape her lips.

“Strip me.”

Your fingers reach the neckline of her thin, black dress, and you slowly draw the fabric down her shoulders.

“Do you like being undressed, Miss Miyoui?”

“Yes,” she answers, her tone now a soft gasp, desire building and threatening to break down the last vestiges of her demure exterior.

Finally, you draw the dress far enough down her shoulders until it is just barely covering her nipples - and with one last pull, you draw the flimsy dress down past her breasts, her soft, small mounds escaping the fabric with a small bounce.

Mina is squirming now, her arms still bound behind her back, her naked shoulders and small, perfect breasts now exposed. Your arms snake around her small frame, and you grasp both her breasts in your palms, enjoying the feel of her warm flesh in your hands. You smile as you feel her nipples hardening, her buds poking against your palms.

You capture both of her nipples with your index finger and thumb, and give the hardened buds a slight pinch.

Mina moans - the first outright sound of pleasure she has allowed to escape her mouth since you started.

“You’re mine now, Miss Miyoui,” you whisper softly into her ear.

You press forward on the young woman’s back, bending her forward until her upper body is pressed against the table. Wasting no further time, you grasp the hem of Mina’s dress and pull it up over her upraised ass, revealing more perfect, vanilla skin - and the absence of underwear. You take a moment to burn the image in your mind of the young woman bent over on the table, her hands bound behind her back, her naked save for her black dress bunched around her waist.

“No underwear, Miss Miyoui?”

“No,” she answers, pausing slightly before adding, “Eat me.”

You weren’t one to keep a woman waiting, and you drop to your knees and admire the soft, glistening flesh of Mina’s pussy for a split second before pressing your mouth to her lips and giving her a long, slow lick.

The moan that leaves Mina’s mouth tells you that she has finally cracked - gone is the demure, reserved young woman you knew from meetings and office presentations - the woman that you were currently tongue deep in was a new woman now. A wanton, lustful young thing.

Her moan encourages you, and you dive in the same way you did with the other women in your life, pressing the flat of your tongue against the lips of her pussy before dragging it up and down, stimulating her sensitive flesh with long, broad strokes. You bring a finger up to her crotch and, with your middle finger, search for and quickly find the hardened, erect bud of her clit.

The dual stimulation has turned Mina into a mewling, moaning mess, every vestige of her demure exterior now long gone - there was only pleasure now, emanating from your tongue and fingers and coursing throughout her young body. Her naked breasts are crushed against the table, and she rubs her chest on the cool wood of the table in some attempt to stimulate her nipples given her bound hands.

“Fuck! Fuck you’re so good at that,” she says, “now I know why Momo loves when you eat her out.”

You want to answer, want to tell her that wasn’t the only thing she liked about you, but you decide instead to redouble your efforts, driving your tongue as deep as you can inside her pussy and bringing your ring finger up to join your middle finger in stimulating her clit. Her juices are flowing freely now, and you gladly gather them on your tongue, the bittersweet taste of her body staining your mouth.

Your eyes are closed as you dive into her pussy, focusing all your attention on tonguing her pussy, but when you open them your eyes are drawn to the tightly clenched ring of her asshole, not even inches away from your eyes.

“My asshole,” Mina hisses, as though reading your thoughts, “my ass. Do it…”

You give Mina’s juicy, heavily leaking pussy one last lick, savoring the juices on your tongue one more time before raising your head slightly and angling your mouth to match Mina’s rear entrance. And with no further hesitation, you press forward with your mouth, your tongue reaching out and giving her clenched asshole a long, soft lick.

“Fuck!” Mina yelps at the first contact of your tongue and her most private of areas, “Yes! More!”

Your tongue almost moves of its own accord, and before you know it you are tonguing Miyoui Mina’s ass, her clenched muscle loosening slightly as she becomes used to the stimulation of her asshole. All the while, your fingers are playing with her clit, never stopping rubbing and swirling around her hard bud, the juices making her flesh slick and magnifying the pleasure emanating from her clit.

“Oh God!” Mina moans, “Oh god! Eat my ass! I’m gonna cum! Yes… right there…. Ohhh!”

Mina’s squirming, wriggling body suddenly goes taut as an orgasm wracks her young body. You continue to tongue her ass and finger her clit, albeit with a slightly slower pace, encouraging aftershocks of pleasure in her body without making her uncomfortable.

Miyoui Mina is a far cry from the ladylike, reserved lawyer she was a half hour ago - now she is a disheveled, half naked mess, bent over on the boardroom table, her juices leaking freely from her pussy and making her thighs glisten. Her face is pressed against the table, but she still finds the strength to make her next demand.

“Fuck me.”

They are words you have been waiting to hear, and you rise quickly, undoing your belt and zipper, finally freeing your fully erect shaft from your boxers. You grasp Mina’s bound wrists with your left hand and your shaft with your right, pressing the cockhead against her drenched lips, lubricating it with her pussy juices.

Mina lets out a soft gasp before she speaks with a lustful tone, “My pussy… is only for girls.”

It takes you only a split second to put two and two together. Then, adjusting your angle slightly as Mina lowers her hips to allow you better access, you press your cockhead against her tight, clenched asshole.

“...but… you can fuck my ass.”

You didn’t think there were any more arousing words in the English language, and you move your hips forward slightly, pressing your hard shaft against Mina’s ass, before you finally feel the tight ring of her anus begin to give way to you. You didn’t have too much experience with anal sex aside from your first time with Momo last week, but you were certainly eager to increase your knowledge.

Soon half of your shaft is now embedded within Mina’s ass, every square millimeter of penetration drawing a lustful moan from her lips. Your grip on her bound wrists tightens, and you pull backward slightly on your tie, pulilng her wrists and upper body back against your hips as you thrust forward - simultaneously, the thickest part of your shaft finally eases into Mina’s tight ass, and you have finally fully impaled the young woman’s asshole with your hard, thick cock.

“Fuck,” Mina says, the curse word escaping her lips in a long, drawn out hiss as her body adjusts to the new feeling of fullness. She had told you she usually slept with women, so this must have been a new or rare experience, although it occured to you given how much Momo enjoyed anal sex that it was likely not Mina’s first time.

“Enough,” Mina says, interrupting your reverie, “Fuck me already. Show me what a man can do. Fuck my ass until you fill it with cum.”

You want to say something, something that is bold or cocky, but you decide to answer her challenge the best way you know how - with action. And to that end you draw your shaft out of her body, and when only the cockhead remains, you thrust forward again, impaling the young lawyer’s asshole with the full thickness of your shaft. With Momo you took it slow, careful not to cause your girlfriend any pain or discomfort - but Mina didn’t seem to have any difficulty allowing you into her body, and so you quickly find yourself pumping in and out of her bent body with the same speed that you had when fucking another woman’s pussy.

A long, drawn-out string of moans begins to leave Mina’s mouth, accentuated at the end of every thrust into her asshole with a loud gasp as your hips meet the firm flesh of her asscheeks. Soon you are thrusting hard enough that your balls are slapping against her drenched pussy with a wet smack - Mina’s ass was much easier to fuck than Momo’s, which wasn’t surprising given Mina’s seeming comfort with anal sex.

“Oh God,” Mina says, her body rocked with each thrust on the table, “That feels so good! Your cock… your cock is so deep in me! So deep in my ass! Yes! Keep fucking me!”

You are slamming in and out her tight, hot asshole now, truly fucking the young lawyer with long, smooth strokes of your shaft, enjoying the sight of her body as it is bent over in front of you, the perfect skin of her shoulders and back flexing with effort as she absorbs each thrust.

You pull backward on your tie, pulling her bound wrists backward and lifting her upper body and shoulders slightly from the desk. Her breasts are freed from being crushed against the table, and you curse the fact that you are unable to watch as they bounce erotically with each thrust into their owner’s body. You content yourself with watching her full, round ass cheeks giggle as they are rocked with each slam of your hips into hers.

With your free hand you grasp her right butt cheek, squeezing the firm flesh, spreading it outward slightly to give you a better view of your shaft as it plunges in and out of Miyoui Mina’s tight ass. You realize that while she was comfortable with anal sex, the fact that she usually slept with women meant that she probably mainly penetrated by sex toys.

“You like… being filled with cock, instead of some toy?”

“Yes!” is Mina’s immediate reply, “A toy… a toy can’t fill me with cum.”

Her words are so erotic, so lusty, that you are momentarily taken aback by the vulgar, wanton young woman Mina has suddenly become. You decide to reciprocate, and ensure that you had fully broken her outer shell of propriety.

“You like being tied up and bent over a table while a man pounds this tight little ass of yours?”

“Fuck yes!”

You decide to take things into your own hands, so to speak, and you pull back with your left hand, pulling Mina’s upper body off the table completely until her body is almost upright - simultaneously you move your right hand around her torso and grasp her naked left breast, grabbing the entire mound with your palm and squeezing. You find yourself disappointed yet again that you weren’t able to taste her breasts earlier - but you content yourself with the fact that your new position could at least allow you to whisper directly into Mina’s ear.

“You like having your ass fucked, Miss Miyoui? You like being with a man?” you hiss.

“Yes! I love it… I’m so full.. So full with your cock. You… You’re gonna make me cum!”

“You’re such a proper little lady at work,” you hiss, pulling back even more on her bound wrists, driving her torso into an even more upright position as you tighten your grip on her breast, “but you’re not like that at all when your hands are tied and your ass is being fucked, are you?”

“No… I… I’m so close…”

“You’re not such a proper lady right now, are you, Miss Miyoui?”

“No… I… I….”

You fuck her a little harder, drawing startled little gasps from her pretty mouth. You were almost there, almost at the point of fully breaking her little facade…

“Then what are you, Miss Miyoui?”

“I’m your fucktoy! My ass is yours to fuck whenever you want!”

Mina’s reply is loud, and if you weren’t balls deep into her tight, clenching asshole then you might have been afraid that someone passing by outside would have heard. But at the moment you didn’t care - the CEO of your companies could have walked in the room and you wouldn’t have stopped fucking the young, quivering woman in your arms.

You are satisfied that you had finally broken through her demure, ladylike exterior and exposed her true nature. Now it was time to concentrate on pleasure.

“Good… I’m going to be fucking this ass quite a bit, Miss Miyoui. Do you like when I’m so deep in you?”

“Yes… I love it when I’m stretched out… Oh… Oh god. I… I’m gonna cum!”

Her slim, tight body would have been too much to handle during normal vanilla sex, but with her half clothed, arms tied behind her back as she is bent over a table, and with your shaft buried in her asshole as she is on the brink orgasm, it is far too much to handle. And it embarasses you a little bit, how quickly you have found yourself so close to orgasm yourself, but given the circumstances you weren’t exactly surprised.

“I… I’m gonna cum soon too, Miss Miyoui,” you admit, somewhat shamefully. Your shaft never stops pistoning in and out of her clenched ass, however, not that Mina minds as she nears the brink of orgasm.

“Then cum… cum with me! Fill my body with your cum... Cum inside my ass! Oh! I’m cumming!”

Mina does just that, the combination of your hand on her breast and the hard, thick flesh pistoning in and out her body driving her into an orgasm that leaves her trembling and spasming in your arms. You pull back on her bound wrists like it was some sort of leash, all in an attempt to drive yourself deeper into Mina’s willing, wanton body.

It is too much for you to handle, and you are struck with an orgasm that takes you completely by surprise - usually you knew when you were about to cum, knew when to expect that wonderful plateau of pleasure - but not this time. It is an orgasm that strikes you completely unprepared for it, and before you know it you are buried balls deep in Miyoui Mina’s body as you release stream after stream of thick, hot cum into her ass, both of your hot bodies trembling with pleasure.

You black out - nothing else exists except the pleasure that has overtaken your body. You feel the semen leaving your shaft, feel Mina’s asshole tightening around your cock, you are even aware of Mina’s long, sultry mid-orgasm moan that fills the room, but only barely - above all, there is the pleasure.

Slowly you both wind down from your mutual orgasms, and you are both left bent over the table, both breathing heavily. You gather your wits enough to slowly withdraw your softening shaft from Mina’s tight ass, savoring the feel of her body squeezing every inch of it as it exits her, leaving behind a mess of thick white semen that begins to flow slowly from her freshly fucked opening.

You grasp the young woman’s shoulders softly and turn her around so that she is facing you again, her hands still bound behind her back. You run your tongue over your lips as you notice her bound hands have thrust her chest forward, presenting her naked breasts, the firm mounds pushed up by the black dress bunched beneath her breasts.

You lean forward, bending slightly, and take her left breast in your mouth, savoring the feel of her sweat misted skin and the hard nub of her nipple on your tongue.

“Momo always said you were a boobs guy,” Mina says as she lets her head fall back, still happily stuck in that wonderful post-orgasm haze, enjoying the new sensation of your tongue on her breasts.

“I wanted to taste them, but I couldn’t with you turned around,” you say softly between licks. You bring your other hand up and squeeze her right breast, not wanting it to be left unattended.

“Maybe next time,” Mina says softly, “I won’t be turned around. Because maybe… it’ll be my pussy you’re fucking.”

—-

“We accept your offer.”

Tzuyu’s words come as a definite relief, even if you knew they were the only real choice the young woman had of avoiding the fallout of her decision to steal Seolhyun’s tech. There is an audible sigh of relief in the room, at least from the women on your side of the table. You note, however, that Sana was absent from the room.

“We will commence formal talks after this conference. I presume your lawyer here will preside over the legal aspects?”

“I will,” Mina confirms, and you relish the fact that her normally pale skin was still a little flushed from your recent exertions.

“I also demand that I and all my staff members receive complete immunity from prosecution.”

“Done,” you answer.

There is a look of defeat on Tzuyu’s face that almost - almost - makes you feel sorry for her. Despite he audaciousness if her plans, she was still just a young girl that was trying to make a name for herself in a competitive industry, even if her methods were suspect.

“And how did your parent company take this news?” Momo asks.

“Not well,” Tzuyu replies, “I don’t think I’ll be invited to the Christmas party this year.”

“We’ll ensure they don’t do anything to harm you or your staff, Tzuyu. And you can be assured that no one else in our company will be aware of what you did. You’ll have a fresh start with us at JYP,” Momo says, surprising you a little bit with her apparent compassion. Perhaps the older woman was feeling a little sympathetic towards the vulnerable girl in front of you.

“Good. They have a reputation of being rather… cutthroat. It’s how they did so well in other industries.”

“We can take them on,” Seolhyun boasts, “there are only two other companies I know of that could possibly threaten us in this industry. Unless it’s one of them, they won’t be a problem.”

“It is,” Tzuyu says with an ominous tone, “if they decide to, they can wreck JYP without lifting a finger.”

“Then who are they?” Choa asks. Tzuyu pauses for a moment as she prepares to reveal the identity of her parent company.

“SM.”

—-

In an empty meeting room elsewhere in he conference hall, Minatozaki Sana is having a hushed conversation on a cell phone.

“Everything is going according to plan. Tzuyu’s plan was foiled. The targets found the hacking device as planned and my name on the device implicated us, as expected.”

…

“No, they still believe I’m a part of her staff. Tzuyu isn’t suspicious of me. They purchased our division as part of our plea bargain, so I’m now once again part of JYP.”

…

“Yes. I will proceed as planned. You can tell Joy she can send me the stealth hacking program when it’s ready.”

…

“Yes, I understand. Good bye, Irene.”

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