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marvelouspeterparker · 3 years

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just little old me

pairing: harry styles x reader

summary: after releasing his second album, and the music video to his hit “watermelon sugar”, the response from his fans is overwhelmingly positive. and while you’re not surprised, harry on the other hand is very grateful, but just a little confused. but you’re more than happy to help clear some things up for him.

warnings: smut (hints of sub! and dom!harry––we love a switch) + unprotected sex but y’all know not to do that! be safe <3

word count: 3k

notes: this is my first ever harry fic! (also based on the summary u can see how long ago i started this sfjkdhgs) i’m so scared to post this i feel like all the harry writers are so talented––

[i’ve been reading harry fics for so long and these are just some of the blogs that you could say pushed my love for harry and inspired me to write a fic of my own: @majorharry @harryforvogue @adashofniallandasprinkleoflunacy @sunflowervolvimp3 @haroldloverboy @songbirdstyles if you haven’t read their stuff yet, you should! i reread them all the time!]

You and Harry had been friends for the longest time, since before he was the Harry Styles. You’d watched him grow up in the spotlight while you supported and loved him from the sidelines. He’d bring you everywhere with him when he could, or rather when you allowed him to––you didn’t like the idea of him spending his money on you, but he always waved you off, saying nothing was too much if it was for you.

You were so proud of what he’d achieved and what he’d become but he was still the same Harry you grew up with and you couldn’t be more grateful to have him in your life all this time.

While he rarely spent his time on social media, you spent a majority of your time checking your phone and refreshing your feeds––you just liked to be informed and up to date. Harry didn’t interact that frequently with his fans online, instead preferring the connection when you meet face to face. However, although he wouldn’t respond to people, he would often let you show him what people were saying––after all, he was human too and sometimes he would get a little curious.

You and Harry had been sitting on his couch for an hour now, him messaging Jeff to deal with work related things while you scrolled through twitter, looking at the fans reactions to Harry’s latest music video. It made you smile seeing how happy he made people, you’d seen several people had said that this was “exactly what we needed during this time” and honestly, you couldn’t agree more.

You scrolled down some more and genuinely laughed out loud at the next tweet you read. “I’d sell both my legs and arms just to be the watermelon slice between Harry’s teeth.”

You caught Harry’s attention and he looked over at you, raising a brow, a small smile on his lips. “What’s up?”

You settled down from your laughing fit and showed him the tweet and both his eyebrows raised.

He laughed sheepishly, “You know I really don’t get the ‘hype’”, he put the last word in air quotes. He was always trying to keep up with the latest “slang” as he would put it. He shrugged, a small smirk on his face “I’m just little old me.”

Though his face showed humor, after all the these years, you could tell from the look in his eyes that there was some truth behind his words.

You looked at him incredulously before rolling your eyes and putting your phone aside, unable to stop yourself from going off. “It’s because you’re so genuinely kindhearted, talented and incredibly attractive.” You said as a matter off factly, looking him right in the eye, before looking down at your hands and leaning further back into the couch. “And you have this aura about you––Literally anyone would get down on their knees for you if you asked––actually, no, you wouldn’t even have to ask. You could just look at them and they’d do it, no questions asked. They’d know what to do.”

You had no idea where the courage for you to say all that came from, but you have to admit something about seeing him biting into those watermelons and looking right in the camera three minutes straight while he sang about eating someone out put you on edge. You had been there for him through all his relationships and you loved having him as a friend...but being that close to Harry and not falling in love with him was practically impossible and you weren’t blind. I mean come on.

After a few moments had passed and he still hadn’t said anything, you looked up at him. He was sitting there, a serious look on his face as he stared you down, completely silent. He put his phone down on the table and leaned back, spreading his legs.

You quickly glanced down at his lap then back up to meet his eyes. “What––What are you doing?”

He looked you up and down. “Well according to you,” he tilted his head cheekily, “all I need to do is look at you, and you’ll know what to do.”

Your breath hitched, your brain malfunctioning.“I––You?” You shook your head, knowing that Harry wouldn’t be doing or saying anything if he didn’t mean it. You decided you’d ask questions later. After all, it’d been a while since you got with anybody and you were more than a little horny. You snapped out of your daze and made your way over to him, sliding down onto your knees right in front of him.

You pushed down the thought of how there were literally millions of other people who would kill to be in your position right now and focused on the task at hand. You looked up at him, silently asking for some direction but he shook his head slightly, “This is all you, love. You call the shots.”

You nodded to yourself, taking a deep breath as you calmed yourself down. “Can you take these off for me?” You asked, pulling on his shirt and his sweats.

He quickly got up and stripped himself of his shirt and his bottoms, but you stopped his hands before he could reach for his briefs. You cleared your throat, looking up at him, “I––I can do it.”

He smiled at you before dropping his hands at his sides, letting you do your thing.

You slowly brought the material down, letting his member spring free, trying not to stare too much because wow. You left a trail of soft kisses down his thighs as you pushed the underwear down his legs and you could feel him taking sharp breaths as you did so. He quickly stepped out of them and waited for you to tell him his next move.

You looked up at him, your eyes wide and innocently sinful and he swore he felt himself swell up a little more. Your voice was small yet firm when you spoke up. “Can you sit down for me, please?”

He eagerly took a seat and placed his hands on his thighs, his ringed fingers spread out, anxiously tapping against his legs. You grabbed his member and he let out a shaky breath, eyes flitting between your hands on him and your face––both views entrancing him.

“Is this okay, H?” You asked softly and he almost choked on his breath.

He nodded, “Y––Yeah, f’course it is lovie, shit.”

You hummed, smiling as you leaned forward and swirled your tongue around his tip. You left open mouthed kisses along his shaft and licked along his cock, from the base to the top before spitting on it, spreading it with you hand and getting it nice and wet. His fingers were digging into his thighs and you couldn’t help but notice.

You took your hand off of him and ignored the whine that escaped him as you did so. You took his hands in yours and placed them on your head, “You can.” You smiled gently and he nodded, his fingers grasping your strands firmly but not harsh enough to hurt you.

You put your mouth back on him, stroking him as you took him into your mouth, bobbing your head, relishing in the small whimpers and moans of your name he let out. You were completely focused on him, tuning into what made him react the loudest and doing it over and over again just to hear those pretty sounds again.

His fingers gripped your hair harder, his hips unwillingly bucking into you softly as he got closer. “M’gonna cum, love. Don’t––” He was mumbling, biting his lips as he looked down at you. When you sucked on his tip, looking him in the eyes, he cursed softly and let his head rest on the cushion, deciding it was too much to feel you and look at you if he wanted to last. “Don’t wanna cum just yet.”

You hummed and pulled off of him, your hand still stroking him. “No?” You pouted playfully. He could hear it in your voice and it only made him twitch in your hand.

“N––No.” He swallowed thickly and looked down at you, his eyes blown with lust. He reached down and pulled you up to stand between his legs. “Wanna make you feel good too.” You couldn’t help the smile that stretched across your face. “Not fair for me to be the only one getting what I want, is it?” He tilted his head, licking his lips as he looked up at you, his hands rubbing up and down the backs of your thighs teasingly.

When you didn’t respond, his hands squeezed you. “Asked you a question, lovie.”

You gasped lightly. “N––No it’s––not fair...”

He smirked, reaching for your shorts. “Let’s take these off, yeah?” You nodded and let out a small yeah, and only then did his fingers slip into the waistband and pull the material down your legs. You placed your hands on his shoulders while he helped you step out of your bottoms. He looked up at you, a glint in his eyes as he reached for your panties, again, only pulling them down after you gave your verbal consent. He kept his eyes trained on yours the whole time he slipped them down, and if anything that made you feel more vulnerable––more open.

When you stepped out of them, he trailed his hands up your thighs and along your hips before raising your shirt a bit. “Can you take this off for me?” You nodded and pulled the shirt over your head, letting it fall to the floor with the rest of your clothes as his hands splayed across your abdomen, his cold rings contrasting with the warm pressure of his fingertips.

His hands slid up, and he smiled when you let out a breathless please when he asked for permission to touch your newly exposed skin. His eyes finally trailed down past your eyes, widening with arousal when they settled on your soft skin, your pebbled nipples, straining for attention. He rubbed his thumbs over the numbs ever so lightly, looking back up at you when you sighed and arched your back, leaning further into his touch, almost as if he wanted to commit it to memory.

“Look at you, pet.” You whined softly at the nickname and the feeling of his hands on your skin. “So beautiful.” He grasped your breasts and now it was your turn to let out a shaky breath.

He let his hands slide back down to your waist and you pouted, making him furrow his brows playfully. “Hey, none of that now.” He brought a hand up to hold your jaw. “Just realized we haven’t even had a proper kiss yet and you had me down your throat.” You felt your cheeks heat up in embarrassment but his thumb caressed your cheek soothingly, sliding over to run over your lips gently. “C’mere.”

You stepped into his embrace and pressed your lips against his, your hands coming to hold the side of his face and play with his hair, making him moan into you. His hand stayed at your jaw, the other sliding down your body to grab your ass firmly. Your lips slotted together perfectly as you pulled away and reconnected them softly every few seconds, thoroughly enjoying each other. He licked into your mouth and quickly took control of the kiss, not that you had any complaints, sucking on your tongue and pulling you in closer. He bit your lip and pulled away, smiling when you subconsciously tried to get more of his lips.

His eyes trailed down to between your legs and they stayed there for a moment, distracted. “Gonna let me have a taste?” He licked his lips teasingly, looking back up at you. “I just wanna taste it.” He referenced his song, a small smile on his lips.

You rolled your eyes, a smile on your face as well. “Harry.”

“What?” He shrugged innocently. “M’just being honest.”

“You actually want to? You don’t have––”

“Been dying to, pet. You don’t know how long I’ve been aching to get my mouth on you.” He got down on his knees and the sight of him looking up at you from that position made your whole body shiver.

He placed his hands on your thighs. “What do you say? Gonna let me have my dessert?”

You nodded, letting out a small okay. When you tried to sit down where he had just been seated, he shook his head and stopped you, taking one hand and lifting your leg to place it on his shoulder. Your eyes widened, your mouth dropping open as he placed your hands in his hair to steady you.

He had the audacity to ask, “You good?”

You nodded, dazed. “Uh, yeah.”

“Good.” He smiled and with that he leaned forward and licked through your folds, immediately kissing your clit, holding you as your head tipped back in surprise.

“Shit, Harry––” Your fingers gripped his curls, pulling him into you as he moaned. Of course he was enjoying himself as he pleased you. His tongue was moving with purpose as he lapped up your wetness, spreading it around your clit. He really knew how to use his mouth.

You moaned loudly when he sucked on your clit, and even louder when he used the tip of his tongue to trace on it, realizing what he was spelling out–– H A R R Y. He grinned when he realized you caught on and his fingers were digging into you as he held you up, letting you desperately grind onto his face.

You looked down to make sure he was still okay with all of this, shocked to see him looking up at you, watching your reactions, clearly pleased. You cursed softly. “Feels really good, Harry. Fuck––”

He hummed blissfully, properly burying himself in you, his eyes stuck on your body as he brought you to the edge rather quickly. “Gonna cum in my mouth, baby?”

You whined, nodding your head as you held onto him for dear life. “M’so close.”

“Cum for me, pet. I want it.” He wrapped his lips around your clit and sucked hard, holding you upright as your body shivered and convulsed in his hands and on his tongue. He didn’t let up, fully making love to your clit with his tongue as he kissed your lower lips passionately, getting his light stubble wet. He was making a proper mess but neither of you cared.

When your legs stopped trembling, he pressed a kiss to your clit, then to the thigh over his shoulder before placing your leg back on the ground. He looked up at you, a smug grin on his face as you looked at him, breathless. He stood up, his hands finding their place on your hips and he licked the rest of your juices that were still on his lips, his chin still slick with your arousal.

“Care to clean me up, love?” He leaned closer. “Is your mess after all.”

You smirked before leaning in and licking up your wetness from his chin and up his lips before bringing him in for a messy, passionate kiss. Without disconnecting your lips your turned him around and pushed him onto the couch, taking your seat on his lap, his arms wrapping around you instinctively.

You wrapped your hand around his base, smiling down at him when he pulled away to whine. You lifted yourself up a bit and swiped him through the mess he made between your thighs. “Can I ride you, H?” You asked him, teasingly sweet.

He threw his head back, “Christ, y’can do whatever you want to me, love.”

You kissed his neck and slid him into you, and his fingers dug into you as he let out a long moan.

“God, you feel even better than I’d imagined.”

You tilted your head, starting to bounce and grind on him, “You’ve thought about this?”

“Of course I have. Have you seen yourself?” You were about to push further when he slid a hand down to rub at your clit, making you gasp and grind down on him harder.

“Oh fuck, H.”

He grinned, thrusting into you. “That feel good?”

You nodded. “So good.”

His hand was holding your hip as he bucked his hips into you. How he found your spot so quickly, you have no idea. You tilted your head back and he grabbed your neck gently, making your eyes widen as you looked down at him, noticing the dark look in his eyes as he watched you come undone on his cock.

When he noticed you getting close, he pulled you in to rest on him and your wrapped your arms around his shoulders, whimpering into his neck as he started to fuck you harder, his hips finding a smooth rhythm easily.

You kissed his skin, marking it up as you sat there and took everything he was giving you. He was still sensitive from before, but he didn’t want to finish before you did, again. “Come on, pet. Give it to me. Just one more so I can fill you up.”

You groaned, your lips grazing his skin as your legs started to tremble, your walls clenching around him, coaxing him to tip over the edge with you. Your body shook as you whimpered, your body tensing.

“That’s it, just like that.” He grunted, thrusting a few more times before he released inside of you, the both of you moaning together.

He wrapped his arms around you tight, holding you close as he thrusted slowly, making sure to empty himself out inside of you. You both sighed softly and you sat up. He looked up at you, pure adoration and awe in his eyes, his arms still holding you. You placed your hands on his shoulders.

“Hi.” You smiled sheepishly.

He smiled back, kissing you softly before pulling back to look at you again, his head resting against the couch. “Hi.”

You looked down, deciding to focus on his tattoos, suddenly nervous. “I’ve uh––sort of wanted to do that for a while.”

He unwound his arms to caress your back with his hands. “Mm me too.” He smiled when you looked up at him.

“I really like you, H.”

“Well I guess it’s a good thing that I like you too, then.” He squeezed you playfully. “Would you like to go out on a date this week?”

You smiled, leaning forward to kiss him again. “I’d love to.”

#harry styles #harry styles fic #harry styles imagine #harry styles smut #harry styles x reader #sub!harry styles #dom!harry styles #sub!harry styles x reader #dom!harry styles x reader #harry styles oneshot #dom!harry styles smut #sub!harry styles smut #watermelon sugar #lol

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secretsandwriting · 3 years

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So I’m testing some new things out with this so you guys will have to tell me what you think!

I’ve also come to the conclusion that while Timothee isn’t my favorte celebrity I like writing for him.

Also, I have no idea how movie premieres work so this is really just a guess and could be completely wrong.

Word Count - 1609

Beta Read - by google docs

Navigating through the crowded streets of New York was getting to be something you were good at. Moving there had definitely been a culture shock but after getting used to it, it was pretty nice. But now, you needed to get coffee and work on your French for one of your classes.

Ordering and setting yourself up, you started the assigned video and prayed it would make sense and you wouldn’t have to add another hour or two of study to your already full schedule. But as fate would have it, it sounded like gibberish.

Restarting the video to try again, you were pulled out of your studies by a burning sensation going down your arm. Pulling out your headphones you looked down at your arm to brown soaking into the sleeve.

“I’m so sorry!” The guy in front of you looked familiar but due to his mask it took a moment for it to sink in. Timothee Chalamet. He was an actor, but that wasn’t important. What was important? He knew french.

“That’s not important. Do you have any free time right now? I know you know french and I need to learn it and this makes no sense and it’s due in two hours.” You definitely caught him off guard, but he checked his phone.

“I have an hour.” He pulled a chair over and you handed him one of your earbuds. For the next hour he helped you, he was a lot better than the video your teacher had given you.

“Here,” he handed you a slip of paper. “If you need more help just text me and I’ll help when I can.”

“Thank you! With your help, I’ll at least pass.” He laughed and you said your goodbyes before he went on his way and you worked on finishing the rest of your homework.

While you worked, you didn’t notice the girls in the corner watching you with their phones out and slightly pointed at you.

The next day, you almost regretted asking Timothee for help when you woke up to your phone being blown up by friends and social media. There were multiple pictures of you and Timothee as well as multiple dating theories. One of the notifications stood out, Timothee had messaged you on Instagram.

You didn’t really talk until your next assignment came and you texted him about it. Together you decided to meet at one of the libraries. This time you knew that you would be spending time with a celebrity and people would notice so you made sure you at least looked alive. That way if there were pictures posted online at least you wouldn’t look like too much of a mess. Apparently Timothee noticed.

“You look nice.”

“Well, the chances of pictures being taken are pretty big so I at least want to look alive and not like I just rolled out of bed.” He snorted and you chatted for a few minutes before getting to work.

This time it was a bigger assignment so it took a few hours instead of one. But it didn’t seem to be so long, it felt like time had flown by and it was finished immediately. Timothee was interesting, you two could have fun but when needed it could be serious.

So when you split ways and Timothee started texting you an hour later, you didn’t feel like he was trying anything. It just felt like you were talking to a friend you had known for years. Then, you had plans to hang out two days later when he was free. The plan was to got to a park and play with kids and act like a kid, simply to feel like you didn’t have so much on your plate and could just have fun for an afternoon.

The interview he asked you about, was before you were meeting to go to a park and act like you were children, not adults who had jobs and college. But that was the plan, and exactly what you did.

The two of you ended up chasing each other until all the other kids at the park wanted to play with the two of you. The parents watched the two of you close when you played with them but that was to be expected.

Timothee was good with kids. Not just good, amazing. All the little girls were absolutely in love with him while all the boys were amazed by how strong he was.

However, as most people know. Kids have no filter, therefore they ask any question that comes to their brain. Hence the 30 different times you had to tell them that you weren’t dating and you were just friends having fun. Some of the parents seemed to think so too, one of them basically told you.

“Thank you for playing with Maggie, she had a blast and she’ll probably sleep well tonight.” The lady looked relieved at the thought. “You and your boyfriend would be good with kids if you decide to have them.”

“He’s not my boyfriend. We just met a month ago and we just came here to have some fun.” She nodded but you could tell she didn’t believe you. Trying to ignore what she said you turned and went back to playing with the kids.

It was after two hours of playing different games, the two of you decided that you were out of energy. Timothee offered getting a meal and you agreed. And that’s how you ended up in a Mcdonalds.

For the next few months, you would meet up for assignments or just to hang out. The press had a hayday with it but after a while it was easy to ignore and then it became more fun to do funny poses every once in a while.

Then he had to go work on a movie so your contact was left to text, phone calls, and facetime. It worked but it wasn’t as good as meeting in person. He still helped with your french until the semester was over part way through his movie.

“Timmy!!! I passed!!!” You held up your phone to the camera on your computer so he could see through his screen. It was amazing and you owed it all to him. Last semester you had barely passed and that had been with 4 times the amount of studying then you had done today. Timothee was godsent.

“Yes! You did it!” You celebrated for a little bit before he got serious. “Y/n, since you passed I know what we can do to celebrate. When this is over, you should come as my plus one to the movie premiere.”

“The movie premiere?!” He nodded, you could see how nervous he was in his eyes. “I have one question.” He nodded, waiting for you to ask. “What am I supposed to wear.” He snorted.

“I’ll talk with my manager and see what he says.” So that was the plan. You kept talking with him, but now it was less about school and more for the fun of it.

When the movie premiere came close Timothee got an answer to your question. Though he almost seemed hesitant to tell you.

“You just have to go get measured and go to a few fittings. The brand making my suit is making you a matching dress.” You would be matching with Timothee sure, you were going as his plus one, or date depending on who you ask. But brand? This dress sounded like it was going to cost more than your college tuition.

“Ok, when and where do I need to go?” He gave you his manager’s private number so you talk straight with him and get all the details. Little did you know, that that was the beginning of the storm.

Somehow it got out that you were going with Timothee and even getting matching outfits. Soon, your phone was being blown up by people trying to get details and even shows asking you to come on and talk about it. Timothee’s manager called you and offered to be your manager until this all calmed down, mostly because this affected Timothee but the offer was still appreciated and accepted.

He texted you a link and told you to post it in all of your public social media bios titled ‘Manager’s contact’. While it wasn’t something most celebrities did, you had just been dragged into this. It would start as a base line until things were figured out.

Through this mess, Timothee kept apologizing even when you said it was ok and it wasn’t the worst thing that could happen. You thought the manager would be enough but then you ended up sharing Timothee’s booking agent too. Apparently everyone wanted to talk with you.

A few days after agreeing, you learned that the episode would be realised a week before the premiere, but hopefully it would go well. You were also told that Timothee would be doing the interview with you which made you feel a lot better.

Timothee came back the day before you had to fly to California so you were going to let him take the day to rest because frankly it was a lot, but he showed up at your door with his suitcase. He hadn’t even gone home.

“Timmy! What are you doing he-” He cut you off.

“Can I kiss you?” What? That wasn’t what you expected. While you stood there staring at him completely confused, he started shifting around a little bit and playing with his hands.

“Yeah.” That’s all it took for him to get his confidence back.

Request:

Hey, I really love your writing.

Can I request something with Thimothée Chalamet? Maybe like they meet at a coffee shop and he accidentally spills his coffee on her and then they become friends and they progressively fall in love with each other? If you can’t I understand.

Thank you 🤍

#timothee chalamet x reader #timothee chalamet x y/n #timothee chalamet x you #timothee chalamet imagine #timothee chalamet

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karajaynetoday · 3 years

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i'll be honest, it's better off this way | luke hemmings

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hello pals! long time no writing! i know it seems a bit weird to post a luke break up fic just after he got engaged but to be fair, I already had this in the works before the news broke yesterday, so soz not soz. It is kind of a happy break up story though... kind of? this one features lyrics from our song by niall and anne marie that are in italics throughout the piece (you know i love a song lyric incorporation lol) and i’m a bit rusty, so any feedback is welcome! a big shoutout to my dearest @notinthesameguey for beta-reading this one for me, you’re a gem blanca! enjoy xo

Word count: 2.3k

Warnings: mentions of a break up and a car accident/hospitalisation (minor/non-graphic)

(This is a fem reader insert)

More writing here | send thoughts/feedback/suggestions here | if you’d like to be on my taglist go here

I'll be honest, I'm alright with me

Sunday mornings, in my own bedsheets

The break up with Luke had been easier than you’d first thought. It’d been months of growing apart, feeling like a stranger in your own home, before you finally worked up the nerve to utter those four words: We need to talk. He’d been spending most days and some nights in the studio, and you’d been working overtime at your job too; you were ships in the night who barely had time to say hello and goodbye, let alone have any sort of proper conversation. You’d spent an entire evening rehearsing a script in your head, and as soon as Luke walked through the door and greeted Petunia, you mustered the courage to stand up and speak your truth.

It turned out that you weren’t alone in feeling stagnant in your relationship, and although you could feel your heart breaking as you said the words, Luke’s hand on your knee was all the gentle reassurance you needed. Just like always, even when your relationship was falling apart, Luke was there for you. And that’s what he promised, that night in the living room. It didn’t make sense for you two to become strangers overnight after 3 years together, but you also both knew that you needed space to grow and heal, and that space needed to happen sooner rather than later.

You could tell that part of Luke wanted to fight it, wanted to raise his voice, wanted to convince you to stay. But part of Luke also knew that it was time to walk away, no matter how much his heart was feeling like it was being ripped out of his chest, because he did truly love you, and if he loved you, he’d let you go.

Even though Luke insisted you could stay in the spare room for as long as you liked, it only took a week or so to find a new place. An apartment in KayKay’s building opened up for rent, and thanks to her help, you secured the lease and started moving in as soon as you could. Ashton accompanied you to Ikea and then helped with assembling a new bed and dining table for you, while KayKay helped unpack some of your boxes. You could tell that they were trying to be sensitive, but at the same time were desperate to know what went down in the break up, and after a few slices of pizza and half a bottle of wine, you felt the emotions rushing to the surface.

“It feels dumb to get upset, after all, I was the one who suggested we should break up.” You sniffled, smiling sadly as Ashton handed you a tissue.

“Just because it was something that needed to happen, doesn’t mean you can’t be sad about it. You two shared a lot in the time you were together, it’s only natural that it’s going to take you a while to untangle yourselves from one another and to get your head and heart back on the path that’s right for you.” KayKay spoke softly, throwing an arm around your shoulders.

You knew she was right, and the healing would come; it was all part of the rollercoaster of walking away from someone you thought was the love of your life, but had turned out not to be. Time to adjust and find some independence, and re-shape the life you found yourself in until it was the life you wanted.

But every time I think that I can get you out my head, you never, ever let me forget

Once you’d completely moved out Luke’s house, your reasons to contact him became few and far between. A few occasional texts to advise that he’d let his family know about your split, and a link to a new cafe nearby that he thought was your kind of vibe (and it absolutely was). Everyone in your friendship group was trying their best to help you both cope, but it was hard to avoid the awkwardness that came with a break up of close friends.

You felt like you were walking on eggshells for a while, so you started to say no to invitations out. You threw yourself into a new work project, and barely replied to any group chats. Whenever your friends called, you had the perfect script rehearsed, about how you were going to be up for promotion, and after the next month or so, you’d have plenty more time for catching up with everyone. You were fairly certain that no-one believed your story, but you were sticking to it nonetheless. You’d seen photos online of Luke out and about with various beautiful women amongst the partying crew, and even though you knew better than to torture yourself with doom-scrolling through the internet, you couldn’t help yourself. You had to keep reminding yourself that it was YOU that wanted the breakup, and that it was for the best. Or something like that.

It was coming to the end of your big project, and the entire office decided to head out for celebratory drinks. You only stayed for a couple, because after a month of overtime you were ready for bed. Your boss took you aside to assure you that the promotion was yours and the new contract would be on your desk on Monday, and as you reassured him you were excited to take on the role, a song playing over the bar’s speakers made you stop in your tracks. You’d spent many a Sunday morning dancing around the kitchen making pancakes with Luke and singing these words; something you’d completely forgotten until this moment. As you stepped outside to await your Uber, the first person you wanted to call with the news was Luke. Your fingers hovered over his name for a good few minutes before your Uber driver honked and broke you out of her trance, and you settled for texting the group chat instead to share your exciting update. Lots of confetti and heart eyes emojis started popping up alongside congratulatory messages, and you let out a giggle when you saw that Luke had sent a photo of Petunia with “congrats!” scrawled across it in purple font. It was the last thing you remembered, before the squealing of tyres and your vision going black.

Just when I think you're gone, Hear our song on the radio

Just like that, takes me back, To the places we used to go

The rhythmic beeping of the hospital monitors was the first thing you noticed as you stirred awake. The second was a dull pain across your skull, and the third was that your arm was in a sling. Fourth was the large, warm hand that was holding your own and gently squeezing; without opening your eyes, you knew it was Luke’s. You felt too weak to say any words, so instead you tried your best to squeeze back as you slowly opened your eyes. You heard a sharp intake of breath, before Luke’s smiling face came into view.

“Hey there, sweetheart. How are you feeling?” Luke asked, reaching up to gently brush some hair out of your eyes.

“Like I was in a car accident.” You managed to croak out, shooting him a wry smile and earning a laugh in return.

“You are correct, you can pass go, and collect $200. A pretty gnarly accident, the car’s a write-off, but thankfully everyone’s injuries are relatively minor. Some dickhead ran a red light.” You could tell Luke was trying to remain calm, but under the surface he was pissed.

“Not ideal, but at least I get a few days off work.” You joked, grimacing as you tried to sit up. Luke stood and gently maneuvered your pillows to support your back and shoulders better, and you felt a zap of electricity as his hands brushed your arms in passing.

As Luke sat back in the chair next to the bed, you suddenly realised that it was just the two of you in the hospital room.

“No offence, Hemmo, but what are you doing here? Considering we’re no longer significant others, and all…” You said awkwardly, looking down at your arm sling with sudden great interest.

“Very observant, dear. Glad to see the concussion hasn’t affected your short term memory, I was worried you’d forget me entirely. You did, however, forget to update your emergency contact details, so I guess I was first on the list for the hospital to call. Ash, KayKay and I have been taking shifts but they’re out getting food right now - “ The rest of Luke’s explanation was cut off by a gasp and a cheer at the door, signalling Ashton and KayKay’s return and subsequent delight at you being awake.

The days that followed were uncomfortable physically, but kind of heartwarming emotionally. You got home to your apartment thanks to KayKay’s assistance, and found that your friends had stocked your fridge and freezer full of ready-made meals and your favourite snacks. They’d also made a roster so not a day went by without someone popping in to check on you, although you noticed that Luke never came by.

Your recovery was slow but steady, and soon enough the doctors gave you the all clear. At this point, it was nearly 6 months since you’d broken up with Luke, and you could feel your mindset shifting. He was no longer the first person you wanted to call with good or bad news, or the first memories that popped into your head when you needed cheering up. It almost felt like… relief? Because for the longest time, even though you knew the break up was for the best, detaching yourself from one another seemed almost in possible after so many years of so many memories.

I've been waking up alone, I haven't thought of him for days

I'll be honest, It's better off this way

The tipping point came at Calum’s birthday party, a month or so later. Ashton had invited you out for coffee and nonchalantly mentioned that maybe, possibly, well actually extremely likely almost definitely Luke was bringing a date to the gathering at Cal’s house; a girl he’d been seeing for a month or so. Everyone wanted you to be comfortable, and everyone, Cal especially, wanted you to be there, but they also understood if you wanted to avoid any potential awkward encounters with Luke and his new love interest. You assured Ashton that it would be fine, that you honestly weren’t bothered, and laughed off his suggestion of setting you up with a super hot blind date to help level the playing field.

The night came along, and you found yourself stumbling along Calum’s front path in the dark as you tried not to drop the gift you’d bought for him (a new cookbook and a collection of various hot sauces). “Bloody 5sos and the “no good party starts until 11pm rule”, you muttered to yourself as you almost tripped over again, and you heard an indignant shout that sounded very Ashton-like behind you.

“Oi! Don’t be mad at us, you know that rule has never let us down!” Ashton bellowed, as he came forward with his phone flashlight switched on, KayKay not too far behind him.

“Damn girl, you like fiiiiiine!” KayKay said, letting out a low whistle. You rolled your eyes, knowing she was exaggerating. Your outfit was essentially a denim skirt and a t-shirt - maybe you’d sexed it up a little bit with some thigh high boots, tousled hair and a red lip, but all’s fair in love and war, right?

The three of you made it inside, and a very tipsy Calum greeted you with open arms and a lot of excitement at your gift of hot sauce. It felt so nice to be back with all your friends at a house party, like the old days, and you found yourself stepping out onto the back patio for a moment of quiet reflection and to share some pats with Duke.

You’d exchanged a wave with Luke when you’d entered the house, but hadn’t quite worked up the confidence to go up and speak to him, especially when he had his new girl in close proximity. She looked really friendly, though, and you could tell from the spark in both of their eyes that their relationship was blossoming in the best possible way. Part of you thought you’d be upset about it, but all you truly felt was content. Content in your life as it was, surrounded by friends that loved you just as much as you loved them, and actually quite proud of how far you’d come over the past year. You’d learned to stand on your own two feet, and you’d grown into a much more settled, independent human as a result.

You were lost in your train of thought when you heard the song change on the speakers inside. Duke’s ears perked up and he licked your hand attentively when you stopped patting him as the song registered - it was your song. Or at least, it used to be. You felt a smile creep onto your face when you remembered the Sunday mornings of pancakes and singalongs, and the smile grew wider when you saw Luke’s girlfriend dragging him onto the dancefloor, much to his (fake) protests. You made eye contact with your kind-hearted, softly-smiling, gentle-eyed ex-boyfriend, and for a split second you saw a flash of concern cross his face. In response, you raised your glass in a cheers and shot him a wink, which earned a smile and a small laugh from Luke before he turned his attention back to the beautiful girl in his arms. You took a sip, and smiled to yourself. It truly was better off this way.

When I hear it, I just can't stop smiling, I remember you're gone

Baby, it's just a song on the radio, That we used to know

Taglist: If there’s a line through your name, I couldn’t tag you, so please message me to let me know your new URL or what the go is! @suchalonelysunflower @blackbutterfliescal @redrattlers @loveroflrh @spicycal @notinthesameguey @metalandboybands @cheekysos @ashton-trash @another-lonely-heart @queenalienscherrypie @becihadshawn @allthestarsandthemoon @oyesmendes @andrianawinchester @333-xx @findingliam-o @hoodhoran @rbforsmileycal @myloverboyash @myhappylittleyoutubee @saywhatnow07 @secretsicanthideanymore @ar1analara @killmywildflower

#my writing #luke hemmings imagine #luke hemmings one shot #luke hemmings fan fiction #5sos one shot #5sos imagine #5sos fanfiction #lol how do i even write things anymore #i feel VERY rusty #but alas #hopefully it's okay #lmk what you think!

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yandere-sins · 3 years

Text

In His Clutches

Following up with what I said in my last post, I’ll try to do some requests for now until my mental health recovers enough to continue the Fox Wedding, and first on my list is a request I received over ko-fi and which got way too delayed because of yantober and christmas time >_< Please enjoy some Overhaul for a change!

Rating: Mature Warning: Yandere, Blackmailing, Forced Submissiveness, Rough Handling, Mentioning of Blood, Threats, Insults, Mentioning of Violence, Also Chisaki how he was before his arc I have no idea how he behaves currently lol Words: 2120

With the way your head met the linoleum floor, you wondered if the fluid you felt on your skin were tears or perhaps a bloody nose. Even if you weren’t screaming out loud from the pain yet, the impact hurt like hell, and you had to take deep breaths to deal with the aftermath. No wonder you felt an instant wave of dizziness hit you, but being unable to focus your sight and not have nervosity and your shaken mind puke all over the floor were the least of your problems.

Latest when something long and textured lowered down onto the back of your head, did you even realize what you had been forced to do with your involuntary fall to the ground. Without being able to make out anyone before you right away, you were definitely propped into a bowing position, forehead touching the floor, and when you tried to fight off what was holding you down, you looked entirely like a person pleading for forgiveness. “Look what filth honors us today,” a snarky voice picked up, and you could hear small feet pace before you. “The audacity that you’d even show here!”

You were about to complain and set the voice straight that you were not here because you wanted to, but rather because you’d been pulled into a car in the middle of the day and feared for your life if you didn’t move as you were told. But your head was turned to the side suddenly and ungently, and though you shoot daggers at the people before you, once you got used to the light blinding you, you felt a cold shudder run down your spine as your view cleared.

Penetrating, golden irises looked down from above, a body posture as unfazed and unbothered as only someone who knew they had the upper hand could have. The black mask moved slowly as the man before you spoke, never fully revealing his face, and yet the sight in front of you brought a shiver down your spine. “Like gum under my soles,” he agreed to the first voice, and you finally realized what was pressing you down. Polished, seemingly new, white shoes stepped all over you, applying and taking the pressure as he pleased but never giving you the chance to escape from the floor you were pinned to.

The realization of your failed plans began to slowly but surely manifest throughout your body, a light shivering overcoming you as you lowered your eyes, squeezing them shut. A meager attempt of wishing this was just a bad dream, and perhaps you could wake up in your bed soon and atone for what you had done, leave the country even and never come back.

It had been a gamble, really. A half-hearted attempt to break free from the monotonous life you were living and become someone exciting and filthy rich. Everything seemed too easy and safe when it was proposed to you; write the letter and send it off. Gloves, face masks, using the mailbox furthest from your home-- you had remembered EVERYTHING. And yet, you still got caught, so how-?

“How did we find out?” Kai Chisaki, leader of the yakuza clan known as the Shie Hassaikai and the recipient of your attempted blackmailing, spoke calmly and outwardly unfazed. From his hand hung the white letter you had used, the paper with the demand for money so the truth of their doings wouldn’t reach the wrong ears peeking out from it. Yet, when he lifted it up into your view, gloved fingers dug inside between the paper, pulling something out that you’d have never expected to leave behind. It was so small, probably only the rest of it after testing, barely noticeable. Still, you cringed, realizing that they had traced your DNA back to you by something so minor and silly as a hair.

“I’m not a criminal,” you mumbled, noticing the distinctive, fearful shiver in your voice.

“Obviously,” a small, black form, resembling a stuffed animal, huffed, and you were sure if he could have, he’d have rolled his eyes at you.

“They just told me what to do, and I- I just wanted to make some quick cash. You have to believe me! I don’t even know what they know! I only made the letter...”

The following silence was downright disturbing to you, a few seconds turning into the eternity one must feel before getting beheaded back in medieval times. A sigh eventually signaled the end of the nerve-tearing wait as countless ideas of what was going to happen to you now circled through your head. Finally, the foot lifted from your head and flapping the letter in his hand, Chisaki gave the underlings assembled in the room a signal.

With groans and clicks of their tongues, bodies all around you began to move and disappear through doors that you couldn’t have made out with how perfectly they fitted into the white walls around you. You slowly lifted your torso off the ground again, looking after the last one of them disappear without even so much as a glance back over their shoulder, the doors closing automatically behind them. Suddenly, only the boss and you remained in this interrogation room, even though you were too afraid to dare and look at him. Instead, you focused your eyes on your hands, wondering why he’d want to be alone with you. If what you had always thought criminals did with people that defied them, then disposing of you didn’t seem like the work the boss would do. Truly, combining with the confusion you felt, the situation was only growing worse by the second.

“Working at a bank, inheriting the house of your parents, a pretty penny in your accounts. Sounds like a good life, and yet, you’d still resort to this.”

The envelope containing the letter landed right before you, sliding over the ground up to your knees. Biting your lip, you didn’t know what to say, especially when he almost sounded disappointed in you. His patronizing way of pointing out your faults didn’t make you feel any better or less scared, as Chisaki still didn’t appear to mean you well. Even the truth seemed like such a waste of air if spoken out loud, but what better was there to admit?

“... interesting.”

“Louder,” he demanded, his foot falling back down, this time on your hand, crushing it the longer you refused to speak up.

“I wanted to make it more interesting!” you gasped out loudly, clutching your hand close to your body the moment he let go. “I didn’t mean to harm you, Sir! You must believe me!”

This time you did look at him, with the most rueful eyes you could muster even, hoping to achieve anything, literally anything that would change the situation. “Hm,” he hummed in contemplation, and you gulped as you felt yourself run out of options. However, you didn’t expect him to sigh again before leaning forward, his eyes drilling into you as if he was trying to break you just with his stare. You had heard rumors. Rumors that he wasn’t quite sane and overtaken by his ambitions and germaphobia. Nonetheless, his eyes were clear, your reflection in them more fearful than you must have ever been in your whole life.

“You can beg better than that, I think,” he declared.

In your panicked state of mind, you agreed with a short, firm nod, barely inching closer before noticing his eyes narrow reprimandingly, making you stop immediately. “P-Please don’t hurt me! I’d do anything! I was just the deliverer of the message! I know nothing, and if you let me go, I’ll never speak a word about what happened here--”

“Then tell me who made you write this letter.”

His instructions were clear, even though they made your blood freeze. “I don’t know…” you whispered, your body slowly shutting down as you realized it wasn’t the answer he wanted to hear. With a disapproving click of his tongue, a gloved hand reached forward, remaining at the corner of your eye for a split second. You ducked away from his touch, squeezing your eyes shut, but before you knew it, it was gone again, as if he decided against doing what he had wanted. Only now, you realized the tears collected in your eyes, not yet spilling but there as you had started to despair over the situation. However, there was no time to ponder about them as Chisaki spoke up again.

“Who,” he calmly said. “Tell me, and you are free to go.”

But you didn’t. You couldn’t. You had followed the instructions given to you online via an online forum you used to chat with strangers. You never actually met anyone personally before becoming a complice. You had always believed it was so much safer, but you were dead wrong. Sniffling, you shook your head, averting your eyes as you saw your chances of survival and escaping dwindling. “I have no idea…”

Not much sound escaped you anymore as you lowered your head, defeated, accepting your due punishment for your stupidity. There was nothing you could have proven or handed to him to make you look any better. “Pity,” Chisaki said eerily calm, taking a deep breath before standing up, and you agreed. It was your life thrown away for the aspect of quick money. Naive thinking that you’d actually profit from this when in reality, you had simply been the decoy, or perhaps a lab rat, for the real masterminds behind the plan of blackmailing him.

He didn’t say anything else as he watched you for a few moments more, rounding the chair he had been sitting on and walking towards one of the doors hidden in the walls, the sound of it opening making you snap back to reality. “W-Wait!” you called after him weakly. “What’s going to happen now?”

At first, you thought he’d ignore you, but just before disappearing in the dark corridor beyond this room, Chisaki stopped, being the only one to glance back over his shoulder at you. It was scary how little you could read the man from his eyes alone, no feeling whatsoever shimmering in them.

“Now? You’re going to stay in here until you remember, of course. That or one of my men needs a new punchbag.”

And with that, he was gone, the door closing behind his back and leaving you all alone in the maddening white interrogation room. However, the worst was the ringing of his last few words that kept creeping back in your mind, causing you to cup your ears with your hands, hoping it would silence those thoughts. Thoughts of you - or rather, your blood splattered all across this room if his threat was to come true.

Unfortunately for you and your anxiety-induced paranoia, you didn’t hear the words spoken beyond your whereabouts in the secret underground of the organization. Not the praising, “You showed ’em boss!” of Mimic as he ran after Kai, having waited dutifully for his superior. “How do you want to proceed? Should we get rid of them right away?”

Kai’s answer was hesitant as he thought about it, unusual for him as he always had quick instructions to give to his underlings. “No,” he eventually said, sternly so. Hand lifting to his neck, he felt the beginning of a new rash prick at his skin, scratching it as he got lost in thought. “The letter’s pretty good; maybe we can use their skill. And we don’t know yet who sent them. They’ll stay.”

He heard the confused and exasperated huff of disbelieve behind him, but his words were final, even if Mimic disagreed. “If they become troublesome, I’ll clean them up myself. No one is to bother them.”

And with that, Kai could devote himself to his thoughts, thinking about all the ways he could purify you. Perhaps, things finally wouldn’t be so boring anymore as you always complained to him on the forum he met you. If anyone, Kai was sure he could make your life much more interesting by his side, once he got rid of your filthiness that unfortunately still caused rashes to erupt from him, even though being so close to you made him feel so alive.

But first, he’d have to delete the profile he used to trick you right into his clutches, as he couldn’t risk anyone else finding out about your whereabouts once they’d notice your disappearance. After all, it would take a lot of time to reform you, but Kai knew you were worth the trouble.

It was dirty work, but with your potential, how could he refuse if it was you?

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thotsforvillainrights · 3 years

Text

~A Literal Nightmare~

(Omg I fell asleep after writing that last post for Hawks. Anyway, I’m continuing clearing my drafts now with this one. Please enjoy me bringing back my “Chrono can’t drive” headcanon lmao)

headcanon|scenario|imagine|match-up

The white car sat at the end of the entryway as Nemoto and lugged out some suitcases into the trunk while Mimic sat atop his hat. Kai went ahead and got into the back seat while awaiting Mimic to sit on the other side of him and Nemoto to sit in the front. “Why sit in the back Overhaul?” Hari asked from the driver seat. “Because I have the most personal space with Mimic on the other side behind Nemoto.” Just as he said that, Irinaka interrupted him while pushing his small stature up into the seat. “It’s because it makes him feel special when riding in the back.” Nemoto and Chrono chuckled while Kai scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Nevermind all this small talk. Nemoto, I trust you secured all the money and left it in the suitcases. We can’t even fall short by a dime. This deal has to go through for the Hassaikai’s sake.” Kai was pleased when Nemoto nodded. “Fall short?! I stayed up for an extra 4 hours to recount everything! If anything, we’re over by at least a couple tHoUsAnD yEn!!!” Mimic shouted and Kai groaned loudly. “Be quiet Irinaka, I’m begging you. It’s 10 in the morning and I’m already getting a headache. Chrono, pull off and let’s go please.

From that very moment it was clear that the others made a mistake...

The way Hari whipped the car out of the driveway and literally sped to the stop sign (which was only a few feet away) was alarming on its own. The way he also abruptly stopped at the sign way too short before taking off again...it was a red flag.

Kai was in the backseat wondering when he had gotten to this point. When they were teens, Hari’s driving was questionable but never this bad. Irinaka was gripping on the seatbelt for dear life. It was his desperate attempt to not become a crash test dummy. Nemoto was already online googling ‘how to create a last will and testament’. Meanwhile Hari was vibing like it was any old day. Not to mention he had already switched the radio on under the opinion that ‘its too quiet’ which it wasn’t. Now they were doing almost 20 over the speed limit on back roads while Hari was spouting off Chopper City. Thank God Nemoto toughened up a bit and turned the radio off suddenly. “My apologies but I think it’s best if we calm it down so early in the morning. We don’t want to get pulled over and lose all the money.” Hari sighed but he complied nonetheless. “Nemoto if the music wasn’t your style then you could’ve just said that.” He teased with a smirk. “My taste??? Please, I can...handle it. Just not so early. Besides, Master Overhaul already mentioned a headache earlier. And if I may add something, this is a 2016 Honda Accord, NOT a Hellcat. Please stop pushing it like one.”

“Nemoto you literally drive an Altima. Please don’t speak to me.”

“Excuse me!?” Before they could break into an altercation, Kai reached forward and overhauled his glove so they could get the message to shut up. The men both fell silent and within 15 minutes they started small talk as if they weren’t fighting earlier. Mimic groaned every time Hari rounded a corner too fast and mumbled something about being carsick. Kai started to consider taking an Uber back to the base instead of stepping foot into this car again. And before you know it, Hari got into a wreck...no not a wreck going almost 100 on the highway. No not a wreck from rounding the corners without slowing down. No not a wreck from merging without using his signals. He got in a wreck trying to pull out of the parking lot after the meeting with the rival gang. Instead of waiting to sort out the dent he put in the car, he quickly sped off. “Eh, I’ll get that fixed eventually.” He mumbled carelessly while the others stared at him with wide eyes. That wasn’t even the worst of it. The worst situation of the evening is when they stopped to get food on the way back home and Hari locked his keys in the car. Overhaul had to handle the business in freeing his keys, but in all honesty Kai considered just getting that Uber and abandoning the men. It became increasingly clear by the time they got back home that they would NEVER consider Hari to be the driver ever again. “I would soon get in the car with Rappa behind the wheel before I ever set foot in a car with Hari Kurono ever again. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go kiss the ground.” Nemoto grumbled as he stepped out. Kai went shower and Mimic probably ended up going to go vomit somewhere.

“I don’t know why you guys are overreacting. That’s not even my normal driving. I took it slow for yall.”

»—————————–———————————————————–✄

Instagram: @pastelbattydraws & @pastelbattystore

YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCRNMJH7vHL7APNobUykhK4w?view_as=subscriber

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itsclydebitches · 3 years

Note

Hey there! Admittedly I'm a little bit nervous since this is my first ask, but I'll try to not be too rambly.

So, recently the main subreddit, r/RWBY, made a ban on active users of the r/RWBYcritics subreddit. As a result there's been discussion around bad-faith criticism in the latter subreddit. What are your takes on bad-faith criticism?

For me personally, I think a bunch of people are misusing the term "bad-faith" and using it as a way to shut down criticism, but I'm curious to hear your thoughts on it.

Hey there, everyone! We woke up to some drama this morning, huh? And hello to you too, Tortoise! I'm so glad you decided to send in an ask, even if it's following some pretty tumultuous events...

Right, I'd like to start with a story. The story of how I personally don't spend time on Reddit, but I have plenty of friends who will occasionally cross-post something for me to see. Yesterday (or the day before? Idk time is meaningless) a friend told me about a post — which, significantly, I'm now having trouble finding — that covers RWBY's inconsistent writing and the fandom's tendency to try and explain away those missteps. They'd thought I'd be interested because I'd just had a conversation here on tumblr where I made that exact point to someone who, also significantly, vehemently disagreed with me, but in a very civil fashion. Given everything going on, I feel like this side point needs emphasis: we debated, we did so in a sometimes heated, but nevertheless respectful manner, it was clear neither of us was going to sway the other, and the conversation ended. The two "sides" of the community interacted without Armageddon coming about.

But back to the purpose of this tale. I went to take a look at this point and found that it no longer exists. There's just some vague message about it not obeying the subreddit's rules. "What happened?" I asked. "Why'd they take the post down?" "People were getting too heated in the comments," my friend replies. So, given that the comments were still visible, I proceeded to read through them, expecting personal attacks, slurs, harassment, etc. Any number of things that would justify deleting the post itself to put an end to such behavior. Instead, I found a thread of people having a conversation. Was the conversation heated at times? Sure. Did one or two individual posters edge into the realm of petulant, "No. You're wrong and stupid" responses? Yes. Was any of this remotely what I was expecting given the post's removal? NOPE.

"This isn't allowed?" I said. "Well then what is? People were being civil! Or at least as civil as hundreds of strangers ever get when discussing a series they're passionate about online."

Then, this morning, I hear that the entire critic subreddit has been banned.

So to answer your question, Tortoise, I don't actually think that "good faith" criticism exists. Meaning, it's not just that fans are misusing the term "bad faith criticism," but rather that there is no unified, agreed up method of writing criticism that will meet their standards. It's not possible and we know it's not possible because fans have been trying to meet those elusive standards for years:

A fan posts nothing but praise for RWBY until changes make them criticize the show as it is now. Their entire body of work is dismissed as the product of a "hater," despite the overwhelming gap between positive and negative reviews.

A fan posts a review that's a pretty balanced mix between praise and criticism. They're dismissed because it's still too much criticism.

A fan posts a review that's 99% praise with 1% criticism. That's still too much, with fans focusing on the single problem they had with the work and using it as an excuse to dismiss the entire review out of hand.

(As an aside, the argument that critics are "obsessed" with only saying negative things and that the only problem here is that they're "too" negative ignores the argument that... RWBY has a lot of flaws nowadays. Few are willing to acknowledge the possibility that it's not fans insisting on making things up to be mad about/ignoring the good parts of the show, it's the that show is, as of now, legitimately more of a mess than it is a praise-worthy product. If I'd been writing recaps in the Volumes 1-4 days, my work would have been skewed far more towards the positive. The critics' stance is that RWBY has gotten worse, which yes, results a higher volume of critical posts. To say nothing of how criticism takes far longer to explain, likewise resulting in posts focused primarily on that side of the divide. I really enjoyed the image of a crying Jaune reflected in his sword. I did not enjoy that moment's context. Saying that you liked an animation choice is a one sentence thing. Explaining the complexities of Jaune securing emotional moments, the problems with Penny's second death, the hurt many fans experienced watching an assisted suicide, etc. takes a whooole lot longer. Hence, you get massive, multiple posts about these nuanced topics and fewer, smaller posts about the details that are working well.)

A fan talks about a topic that has been metaphorically banned by the fandom as a whole. They have something good to say about Ironwood. They dislike something about Blake/Yang. They enjoyed Adam as a character. They have a problem with Ruby's leadership, etc. There's a whole list of topics nowadays that will result in an automatic dismissal, regardless of the point the fan is trying to make or how well they make it.

A fan talks about the minority representation of RWBY — its black characters, its queer characters, its disabled characters, etc. — and as a result has something to say about the biases and missteps of those writing these characters. This is considered an attack on the writers and, therefore, automatically bad.

A fan talks about how they enjoyed RWBY as it was years ago and is having trouble reconciling the dark, complicated story with the simple, hopeful one we started out with. This is seen as an attack on Monty's vision and an unwillingness to accept that "everything is planned."

A fan does as asked and ensures that their post is meeting all the requirements of "real" criticism. They have an argument to make. They have a point. They provide evidence. They recommend a solution. They keep their tone respectful. They don't attack the creators. They provide disclaimers in every single paragraph about how they do not hate RWBY. It doesn't matter. They're considered too negative.

I have, quite literally, seen every one of the above examples on multiple occasions. I have had many of the above accusations leveled at my own work. When fans say that they're fine with criticism provided it's not "bad faith" criticism, they don't actually have a specific post-type in mind; a checklist of behaviors another fan can emulate and, provided they do that, no hate will come their way. Or, if an individual fan does actually go, "Yeah. That criticism I'm fine with" that response is in no way universal. One person's "They make a good, civil point" is another person's, "Omg stop bashing the show!" Because "bashing" has come to mean everything from curse-laden insults towards everything RWBY has ever done, to posts that just happen to say something other fans don't agree with.

It's a rigged game. There is no way to post criticism about RWBY in an agreed-upon, appropriate manner. This recent ban is proof of that. I think it's incredibly telling that almost immediately after I was going, "Wow. A pretty calm debate about the flaws of RWBY in the main sub. That's great to see," all posters from the criticism subreddit were banned. The main sub literally just had the sort of criticism that they claim to accept — people respectfully posting analysis-based arguments resulting in calm debate — and yet they implemented the ban anyway. I'm not going to pretend that I've never gotten too heated on my own posts, never made snarky comments when I'm frustrated, never used exaggerated reaction GIFs that can come across as insulting... but I'd say on the whole my RWBY work is precisely the sort of "good faith" criticism that other fans are supposedly looking for. I never make an argument I don't think I can back up with evidence. I try to allow for the nuance and differing opinions of complicated topics. I try — even if I don't always succeed — to write in a clear, respectful manner. Yet none of that work has stopped people from telling me I'm a "bitter... raging asshole," a "deranged, delusional psychopath," telling me to set myself on fire, threatening to smash my head in, or just messages to straight up kill myself. If someone like me who legitimately works hard to create fair, defendable criticism and who only ever posts on a personal blog that people can easily block, who never engages in debate until someone else starts it first, never seeks out other fans I disagree with to harass them about what they like... if someone like me is still a "bad faith" critic who "deserves" that kind of hate mail... then what kind of criticism do people want?

Nothing. That's the answer. No criticism whatsoever, of any kind, no matter if it's delivered respectfully, is making a good point, whatever. That's why "RWDE" was created. That's why the critic subreddit was created. The community at large has demanded a complete separation between Praise and Anything That's Not 100% Praise, which has now resulted in this ban. Any other explanations we see are excuses, which becomes glaringly obvious when you look at the mods' supposed reasons for implementing the ban:

"Constant arguments with r/RWBY users" - As opposed to the arguments surrounding things like shipping that never, ever happen?

"Vote manipulation and comment brigades" - The subreddit with 3,000 participants, with around 200 on at a time, is manipulating the votes of a subreddit with 155,000 participants, with over 1,000 on at a time? Those numbers just do not check out. If a positive post is downvoted, or a critical post upvoted, maybe that's because large swaths of the community actually agree/disagree with that assessment, not because the incredibly smaller group is somehow manipulating things.

"Attacking and harassing those they disagree with" — Again, as opposed to those non-critics that never, ever harass people? This is an individual problem, not a community problem. Both critics and non-critics have their sub-groups acting in ways they shouldn't. If anything, the main sub will have more individuals harassing other fans, simply by virtue of being so much larger. As the above examples attest, it's not other critics who have told me to light myself on fire and, just to be clear, the asks I've responded to are a miniscule number compared to the amount I've received. I delete the lion's share for my own sanity and to save my followers from reading the really graphic threats.

"Months-long NSFL spam brigades" — I am, admittedly, not sure what this is referring to. Spamming of NSFW content? If so, that's also an individual problem.

"Homophobic, transphobic, and racist attacks towards our users" — See the above points. Again. If someone is being homophobic, transphobic, or racist, then yes please, ban them. Don't ban an entire community for the actions of a few. It's like walking into a store and banning a customer for causing a scene... but then also banning everyone else who happened to be shopping at the same time. It's guilt by association.

The silver lining to all this? The community as a whole isn't pleased. At least according to the main subreddit comments and a few individual voices like MurderofBirds. Despite the increase (from my perspective anyway) of critical voices post-Volume 8, criticism of RWBY is still very much seen as taboo. As this ban showcases. But it's really reassuring to see so many fans, critics and non-critics alike, going, "This was a mistake." A community is meant to include all aspects of engagement: praise, criticism, and the gray area between. If anything, fans like the mods of the main subreddit should be creating a separate subreddit that is specifically for praise. In the same way that there should have been a tag for RWBY praise, rather than trying to eliminate any and all criticism from the main "RWBY" tag. The majority of fans, even those who claim to hate critics and all they (presumably) stand for, recognize that a blanket ban of all criticism is not the way to go, especially when "criticism" has come to have such a staggeringly broad definition. If you want your RWBY experience to be nothing but sunshine and roses (ha), then cultivate your own internet experience to reflect that. Create your own pockets with rules about how this is the space for praise and if you're not up for praising RWBY right now, don't interact with us in this particular space. Don't try to make the entire community — the main tools used to discuss the show online — conform to your preferences. As established, there is no "good" criticism that everyone in the fandom will accept, which just leaves a fandom with no criticism at all. I'm glad to see I'm far from the only one who, when presented with that extreme, is going, "Nope. No thank you."

#rwby #mymetas #suicide tw #rwde

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funkymbtifiction · 3 years

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communication style between feelers.

Hello again.

I read the post about Dean and I do not agree with the poster, but I’m not here to reply to her but to ask you a question she kind of raised and I always want to ask.

What are the communicative styles of Fi vs Fe in feelers .. once and for all?

Because online the same styles are given to both functions, and I’m super confused. In my own experience and what I’ve noticed, Fi are direct and expressive, Fe hold back and are more secretive and vague. Yet it’s not what is described under those functions, is it? I also wonder if it has more to do with introversion/extroversion and enneagram type more than feeling function?

Lets take Rory and Lorelai.

Rory the ISFJ: One of the reasons she’s one of my least favorite characters is because 50% of her lines are “no it’s fine” and “oh it’s okay”. And what frustrates me more is that she’s labeled sweet and polite and ‘the nicest kid in the world’ for it even though it hurt people around her. She never says what she actually feels and avoids these conversations and there are consequences.

- She likes Jess and wants to be with him? she drags Dean along and makes him go through emotional hell with the uncertainty and the clinginess that comes with experiencing someone pulling away slowly and them lying and telling you it’s all in your head. She disrespects him and lies over and over again. Being honest and upfront would’ve saved him all of that.

- After she dates him after his divorce the same exact thing happens. It’s not working and the relationship wasn’t what she thought it would be. She wasn’t okay with the Doose’s market food spread, spending time in his house with his mother watching them like hawk and sister blasting music. She wasn’t okay with him snapping at her and staying at his friend’s apartment and them rarely spending time together because he doesn’t have a car and the lack of proper dates. Does she communicate these things? nope, she drags it along until the action comes from him once again and he’s very hurt and feels not good enough again while she cries wearing a diamond tiara because he 'dumped her’ when she dumped him both times way earlier and simply didn’t verbalize it.

- She willingly allows Emily to manipulate her then gets super upset about it and takes it out on her when the person she should be angry with is herself for not speaking up

- When she wants to date Logan and he doesn’t initiate it she’s also upset instead of going to him and telling him she’s interested.

- When her and her mother attempt to end the grandparents separation, she let’s Richard cut her off and change the subject even though it was her idea and she felt very strongly about doing it that night

Lorelai the ENFP however wastes no time in that same episode. as soon as she was handed the drink she asked her mother directly “will you ever get back together with dad?”

- When Emily is being disrespectful or nosey she tells her to back off straight away.

- when her father does the same the day after spending the day at Stars Hallow she tells him “You’re judgmental, it’s none of your business, it’s my life not yours and I’ll live it however you want. this stops now”

- when max proposes to her and she thinks it’s the wrong way to do it she says so immediately

- when sherry tells Rory to visit all the time at the baby shower because Yale is near, Lorelai says ��well yes, when she’s not spending time with me”. She makes it clear.

- Christopher told the Rory of how she kissed him when they were young because 'she wanted to know what it felt like’ which is completely different than Rory who gets passive aggressive because of Logan.

That being said. Both characters are unhealthy in expressing themselves one is your face and one acts like a doormat and is upset when someone steps on it. I’ll talk about my experience with IxFJs. I love them, but unfortunately we run into the same miscommunication wall. I’m an xNFP (leaning towards ENFP). Maybe it’s the Te in me but I like things clear and efficient in the sense that I want it out in the open all of it, no matter how insignificant and embarrassing it may be. I want to talk about it calmly and gently, reach a decision or a common ground, take the lesson from it and MOVE ON. I hate things hanging in the air till they shape themselves like an elephant and become the one in the room. The IxFJs I’ve known hardly ever share if I’ve wronged them in a way and instead start behaving a little differently around me, they won’t reply the same way to my messages and there’ll be awkward silence. I don’t understand why? it’s a waste of time and energy. Fe think that by not saying the 'negative’ things and addressing the 'not so perfect feelings’ they’re not hurting anyone, but in reality it’s the opposite, it's the most hurtful thing when you’re passive and you let the person suffer for it.

I respect my people too much to make them feel stupid and play with their head and heart. I’ve told people I didn’t want to be friends with them anymore (and I was as respectful/friendly/considerate as I could while doing it). Difficult, honest, conversations hurt less than lack of honestly and action in my opinion, especially on the long run when the person calms down and is able to think logically.

And I love my people so much that I don’t want to go days without talking to them because of an argument that could be resolved. I hate sleeping on unresolved business. Rory runs away every time she doesn’t like want to have a hard conversation with her mother, either to her grandma’s house or to Europe or the live in the pool house for months and poor Lorelai just waits.

I don’t relate to the INFP’s post at all about Fi finding it hard saying I love you. If anything I over do it. with handwritten letters and long messages and presents and on the phone and in person and written in the sky if I only I had the money

so which communicative style belongs to FJs and which to FP? I stand by Fi (direct and clear communication) and Fe (avoidant and passive).

----------

It sounds like you have a solid ability to be honest and open about your feelings, and that’s admirable. You’re clearly not an avoidant personality, but that’s not the case for a lot of feelers. I think what you’re objecting to are attachment type behaviors, within the Enneagram system (3, 6, and 9). Rory, who is either a 9w1 or a 6w5 (probably a 9w1, given how you just described her) is an avoidant personality who isn’t sure what she wants most of the time, is afraid of conflict and confrontation, and has separation issues. She is indeed passive-aggressive and avoidant, and puts her friends and family members through hell while tying to sort out what she wants and how she needs to communicate. And it’s not good. Her behavior with Jess was especially bad, because she was really into him, didn’t want to admit it to herself, couldn’t admit to Dean that she had emotionally moved on, and didn’t know what to do about her feelings… so she strung him along.

Healthy people learn to put things out in the open and be clear about their feelings, but a lot of feelers of both types don’t know how to do this. I would say it’s easiest for ESFPs and EFJs, because of the direct communicative style of Se/Te and Fe-dom. Fe-doms can’t help talking about how they feel immediately as it happens, because it’s the center of their world. As regards your complaints about IFJs… avoidance happens, because IFJs are less sure about their feelings and how to communicate them in ways that are non-offensive to others, and about 80% of them are 9w1s, which compounds the problem of being avoidant. They don’t want to risk an argument, deal with your hurt feelings, or insult you in any way, so they ignore the problem and hope it goes away, but it never really does. They avoid you, afraid of what they might say that could be hurtful, and procrastinate about being honest. (I too have had this happen.) They aren’t sure of how much separation they want, if a relationship sours, because their minds are fuzzy on the issue (they are mad, then not mad, want you, then don’t want you), so they can send you mixed messages.

But, and I will say this, I have done the exact same thing. I am not proud of it, but I’ve done it. I’ve not known how to say, “Look, I am unhappy with this relationship and I want out.” Instead, I become more distant and wait for you to catch the hint, unless it’s in a romantic relationship and there I will say, “It’s not you, it’s me. I don’t want this” in a nice way. My 9 fix tries to ignore things, even if they bother me a lot, to maintain a connection. In the past, I’ve not been a direct communicator, though I’m teaching myself to be more so and just ask. I’m way more comfortable writing “Love ya!” than having a serious “I love you” conversation. Like the INFP, a lot of my feelings are buried deep inside and not things I discuss with people.

So, to answer your question: FPs are more direct simply because low Te is blunt as hell. They may dance around things but eventually blurt out the truth. Fe is more indirect but also more polite and able to tell people things “nicely” by finding a way to soften it. But you are still going to find FPs who are unclear and indirect, and FJs who are direct and quite clear. So it really depends on the kind of Enneagram type you are dealing with. An EFJ 8 won’t mince words, and an IFP 9 won’t be direct with you.

#question #enneagram #mbti #submission

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orbitariums · 3 years

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𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥𝐬 𝐨𝐧 𝐟𝐢𝐥𝐦 | 𝐠𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐩 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥 | 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐫𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬 (𝟏𝟔)

pt. 15

note: missed u baddies~~~!!! this chapter was so hard to write but i love how it turned out, hope y’all loved it tooooo ♡

playlist *new additions!*

word count: 7.6k

warnings: age gap, smut

Absentmindedly, you picked up your phone on the end table beside you. It was positively buzzing with notifications, and you were a bit thrown off by the sheer amount of them. You furrowed your eyebrows as you skimmed through the notifications from the bottom to the top— you had a bunch of missed calls from your parents, more Snapchat notifications on your regular snap than ever, and a plethora of texts.

You wondered if something had happened, chewing slightly on your bottom lip. Was everything okay at home? Did you post something meant for your cam site on your Instagram? A hundred various circumstances fled through your mind, but none of the situations you had made up could’ve prepared you for when you opened a text from Aaliyah with a picture attached. It read:

- Attachment: 1 image

- BITCH, THIS IS LITERALLY YOU!!!

You sat up immediately, your stomach twisting nauseatingly as you looked at the image on your phone screen. You blinked a few times, rubbing furiously at your eyes like this was all a bad dream and you’d wake up in a few seconds. Because this couldn’t be happening. There was no way that you were looking at a picture of you and Steve that neither of you had taken, walking out of a restaurant you couldn’t be bothered to remember the name of right now. A sense of urgency flooding your veins, you nudged Steve harshly. He shifted in his sleep and put his arms around your waist, unaware of what was going on.

“Steve!” you hissed, your face burning.

He woke up relatively quickly, hearing the seriousness in your tone, sitting up against the pillow and facing you, his brows knitted together, muscles flexing as he supported himself on his arms.

“What’s wrong, babe?” he asked, leaning forward to see what you were showing him on your phone.

You watched his expression change from one of confusion to one of concern as he began to grasp what had happened. But, instead of talking it out with you as you expected, he cursed under his breath and ripped the bed sheets off of him, getting up out of bed. You leaned forward, your naked bottom half getting exposed to the air while he pulled on some clothes and made his way out the door.

“Where’re you going?” you called out after him, and he didn’t even bother to take a look back at you as he marched out of the apartment, muttering,

“I’ll be back in a few hours.”

You tried to catch up to him, but it was too late. He was gone, and now you were alone in this apartment which felt eerily empty without him now, your phone pinging with a new notification every few seconds.

| | |

As expected, the headquarters were abuzz when Steve entered them. He had arrived in a haste, driving stoically on the busy New York streets, his mind racing just like the cars that zoomed past him. The first person to face him once he got inside was Bucky, who just gave Steve a sympathetic look and held the door open for him— Bucky already knew everything, he had figured it out a few weeks ago on his own. You and Steve had already dealt with that hiccup, and you had hoped (perhaps naively) that the situation with Bucky was just a fluke, and that nothing more like that would happen again. But you had been sorely mistaken.

Steve gave Bucky a nod, and they both made their way to the meeting room, where Steve already knew everyone would be waiting for him. Quite immaturely, he rolled his eyes at the fact that everyone was there. This matter was something personal, it had nothing to do with the rest of the Avengers, though technically it did, because Steve’s actions affected the rest of the team and he knew that. But to his own credit, he had just woken up and he was already being bombarded with messages from PR and the rest of the team about this mishap. He had to compose himself before walking in, taking a deep breath and relaxing his clenched jaw.

“Are you insane?” was the first thing Steve heard when he walked in, no doubt coming from Tony.

Steve sighed, tucking his hands into his pockets, glaring at Tony,

“Save the berating for later.”

“Were you not thinking? Is this what you were doing during your time off?” Tony continued, his hands up in the air in a questioning motion.

“Listen, Tony. I’m not here to hear what I did wrong. I’m here to solve this issue right now, whatever that means.”

“You’re gonna wanna see this,” Sam said reluctantly, sliding a magazine across the table for Steve to see.

It was one of those ridiculous celebrity gossip magazines, and multiple pictures of Steve and you were highlighted on the front page. Steve prepared for the worst as he read the headlines: “Captain America with Mystery Girl?” and “Who is Captain America’s New Boo?” He opened the magazine to more unsavory headlines, and to his extreme dismay, pictures of you from your personal Instagram highlighted.

He raised his eyebrows as he read: “More on Captain America’s New Girl.” They had found your name, your age, and worst of all, your profession. Steve was seeing red as he forced himself to keep reading the salacious article which made you out to be a deviant with ulterior motives, abusing inaccurate phrases like, “an unemployed college girl turned porn star” and, “the face of Captain America’s midlife crisis!”

Steve’s face burned white hot as he scanned the article, barely even registering the content and instead finding himself growing more and more angered by the inflammatory statements that were being made.

“That’s enough,” Nat finally spoke up, watching the expressions on Steve’s face grow more and more catastrophic.

She snatched the magazine away from Steve and shoved it across the table, folding her arms and glaring down the table at Tony.

“You okay?” Bucky asked, reaching a hand out to Steve’s shoulder. He could feel Tony’s angry glare focused on him, while everyone else gazed at him pitifully.

Steve sighed, jerking his shoulder away from Bucky’s touch. He couldn’t even pinpoint his emotions, all he was feeling right now was rage. He was angry at himself, feeling like he somehow let this happen, even though deep down he could hear your voice telling him that he was doing everything right and that it wasn’t his fault. He was angry that now, your privacy and safety were on the line, and people who didn’t know a thing about you were making absurd assumptions about you.

He felt like yelling, punching something, doing anything to let out this anger so he could at least have some sort of vessel for this fury he was feeling. But he stood painstakingly still, trying to hear your voice over all the noise, your voice telling him everything was okay even though right now all signs were saying that everything was not okay.

“You have to deny everything,” Tony sighed after moments of awkward silence. “She’s your assistant and you were undercover acting as boyfriend and girlfriend, something convincing but not as exposing as that. And you’re getting your legal team to sue all these publications for false claims and defamation.”

Steve furrowed his brows, staring at Tony,

“They aren’t false claims.”

Tony shrugged flippantly,

“If you want everyone to think Captain America is sleeping with a porn star, then so be it. But it’s going to cost you if you think for a second I’m gonna let that slide on our team-”

Steve cut him off, losing the calming hum of your voice in his mind in a new wave of anger,

“She’s not a porn star, she’s a college graduate and the owner of an online brand and a sex worker, and that’s more than a lot of people her age can say, so don’t get brave because of these god damn articles, Stark.”

“Listen, Cap,” Tony spat sarcastically. “I don’t give a shit who she is. The point is that in this case, your opinion on her doesn’t matter because everyone else is going to say whatever the fuck they want to say. And that’s bad for you, it’s bad for us, and it’s bad for her, if you care as much as you claim to.”

“Don’t act like I didn’t think about this,” Steve lurched forward, slamming his hands on the table. “She’s more than just some girl to me. Don’t act like every waking second I didn’t worry that something like this would happen. Like, like I didn’t take every precaution I could, look over my shoulder every five seconds. I’m not as stupid as you want me to be, Stark.”

Of course Steve cared about his team and how this would affect the Avengers, but the last straw was the media coming for you, putting your privacy and your safety at stake. Your job and the details of your job were extremely sensitive, and you were just beginning to make a name for yourself in the real world. Steve honestly felt like this was worse for you than it was for him. He knew he had to take care of this first, for logistical reasons, but when he was done, he’d get right to you as soon as possible.

Tony sighed, softening just a bit.

“Listen. You know what you have to do. After the Accords, this… this isn’t the kind of attention that we need. Regardless of that, we can’t have this. You’re making a statement today, and you know what you have to say. PR’s already contacting the publishers of these bullshit articles. As for your little girlfriend, if we’re not careful, she could be in huge danger. You know the kind of people we deal with, and how fast they would swing at a chance to grab her when they think she’s unprotected. That’s exactly why you need to deny everything, and we’ll do all the damage control possible. Not that there’s even much we can fix at this point.”

Steve glared all around the table, only to see faces of the rest of the members of the team looking up at him expectantly. He needed to explain himself. How’d he even get into this mess, what was he thinking, the usual. And Steve knew that that was his responsibility— as Captain America. As the leader. As a part of the team. Right now, he was just himself. Steve Rogers. And all that Steve Rogers was worried about was you. Regardless of what you said, the fact that you could be in danger scared the shit out of him, and also put him into this almost primitive, dominant mode. He needed to protect you. He didn’t care about reactions and rumors, he needed to make sure you were safe.

“Talk later,” was all Steve said, turning out of the room and ignoring Tony calling his name. When he got into the car he slammed the door shut and began the drive home.

His mind was swarming with thoughts, about what this meant for his team, for his job, all the things he’d left unaddressed in the meeting room. He knew this wasn’t his fault, he knew that’s what you would say, but Steve wasn’t going to let himself off this easily. He was livid about the fact that the magazines and web articles had found you out so quickly and had posted pictures of you, giving away personal information about you and jeopardizing you as if you deserved it at all. So he drove home in a silent, fuming rage.

By the time Steve came home, you, too were beside yourself with anger. You’d seen the posts your friends and family were sending you, and your social media was getting flooded with spam and comments from people who didn’t know the first thing about you. Some were downright cruel, others were oddly interested in this situation that was meant to be private all along. You hadn’t even called your parents yet or explained yourself to anyone, all you did was text them and tell them you’d get back to them later when you figured this all out. The only person you wanted to talk to at this point was Steve, and he wasn’t even there, nor was he answering his phone and you knew he had it on him.

The fact that he had seen the news and just left immediately, not giving you any sort of comfort or advice, not even beginning to work through this together, had you fuming. You knew that just like you, Steve had people to explain himself to and others to reach out to. But as far as you were concerned, you should’ve been the first person he talked to about this— he should’ve worked with you to at least talk about how to fix this before he just marched out the way he did.

You thought you had both worked past his eternal faithfulness to his job and the pressure to be dominant that he felt all the time, felt you had reached the core of the superhuman. But him leaving as promptly as he did only proved you wrong. You didn’t want to go through this alone, you wanted to go through this with him, as it was about the both of you in the first place.

He came in and you looked up from your phone, where you were scrolling worriedly through the trending Twitter hashtag about you and Steve. Everyone was giving their unwarranted opinions, and you honestly worried how this would impact you— tons of information about you had been revealed without your consent, and it did not at all make you look good to the typical eye.

“Where did you go?” you asked him quietly, glaring up at him.

He seemed to sense your anger and sighed, shrugging his shoulders in a resigned manner,

“Headquarters. Had to sort some things out.”

“Do you know how long I’ve been sitting here scrolling through pictures of me that are from my fucking cam site? Strangers exchanging information about me on the internet, seeing all this shit about us? And you just— just left? You didn’t even try to talk to me, Steve, honestly, what the fuck?” you snapped, your upper lip curling up angrily.

Steve glided over to you, sitting beside you on the side of the bed and trying to get close to you. He truly felt sorrowful for leaving you alone, he wished you had known how much he wanted to talk to you while he was being berated by Tony. He only wished you had known how little he cared about the logistics because you were on his mind the whole time.

But he knew you were right, he had left without even trying to sort things out with you, left you to handle things on your own without even giving you an inch of support or telling you where he was going and what he planned for when he got back.

“You’re right, I’m sorry,” Steve apologized, his tone genuine, trying to catch your eye. He finally did, and even though you still glared angrily at him, he grinned at the fact that you were at least looking at him. “I should’ve been here for you, and dealt with all the other logistics later. I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you, honestly, angel. I didn’t… I didn’t know-”

He didn’t know that your image was being plastered around everywhere, that you were being unpacked by attention-seeking publications. Your safety and your privacy came before the reputation of his team, before all the logistics. That was all he had wanted to protect this entire time. You. Looking into Steve’s eyes, you could see that they were almost glassy, and you shifted from anger to concern quickly.

“Baby,” you cradled your arms around his head, frowning. “No, no, I’m… I’m being stupid, of course you have to handle shit with your job first, I should know that. I just wish we could’ve processed this emotionally first. Instead of separating from each other first thing.”

“No,” Steve said firmly, pulling away from your touch and placing strong, grounding hands on your shoulders. “No, you are completely valid, and you’re right to be angry with me, doll. I should’ve taken a moment. That’s- that’s what we’ve been working on this entire time and you’ve been trying to teach me to step outside of my anxieties and all my duties. And I should’ve been here for you. I didn’t even take the time to comfort you. I’m sorry.”

“Thank you,” you smiled softly, and he pulled you in for a hug, nuzzling his face in your neck.

This was the warmest you’d ever felt with him, just sitting there with him calmly in the midst of all the chaos, finding peace and stillness in each other’s arms. Anywhere else but in each other’s arms felt dangerous and uncertain, and now that you were here together, you were starting to look up. Everything was still shitty, but maybe together, things would feel less shitty.

“Listen, you’ll be okay. I’m sorry for all of this, I know what you’re going to say, but I know that I’m partially responsible. I just wanted to keep you safe, and, fuck.”

You chuckled quietly to yourself, your faces only inches apart when you brought your hands up to cup and graze Steve’s cheeks lovingly,

“You still blame yourself for everything. You can’t control what these fucking publications do. You know that. And selfishly, the risk of getting caught is worth taking, if it means I get to be with you.”

Steve melted into your touch, but still there was that stiff part of him that wanted to blame himself for this mess,

“We’re gonna have to agree to disagree on this one, doll,” he laughed wistfully. “But, you didn’t teach me for naught. Instead of pitying ourselves, we’re gonna work on this, right?”

You nodded with a smile,

“Yes, yes, exactly.”

Steve sighed before continuing, frowning as he remembered the hostile air in the office.

“They told me to deny everything and get my legal team involved, but I…” Steve paused, feeling his anger and defiance resurge.

If they were going to expose you two, then so be it, it was true. If he didn’t tell the truth, if he denied all the “allegations,” he was just letting them win. He was letting them silence him, letting him think he was doing something wrong because he had found you, his happiness. And sure, your relationship was easy to publicize and critique because it was controversial for many obvious reasons— the age difference, the sensitive nature of your jobs.

But Steve didn’t care what they had to say. All he cared was that this didn’t push you apart. And if it meant telling the truth, he’d do that. The bombardment of rumors and questions would pass eventually. Nothing could soil the Avengers for long. If he handled this the way the public expected him to handle it— with some spineless apology or some weak minded statement, it wouldn’t be fair to you. Not when you and Steve were together.

He continued,

“I’m not going to. I’m not denying a thing. I’ll release a statement on my own… I’ll… I’ll tell the truth. I’ll get them to leave you alone and take down whatever they’ve posted about you. I don’t care what they have to say about us. Just… they can’t mess with you.”

Steve’s fists balled up inadvertently in frustration and anger, but he was also feeling a surge of pride, courage. He didn’t have to deal with this the way everyone wanted him to. This was a personal matter, and even though it affected his job and his team, Steve had been through too much in the past few weeks to let the public play him the way they wanted to. There would be drama, and talk, but it would all subside as it always did. He’d always be Captain, and as long as he had a good heart and good intentions, and did his job right, he didn’t give a shit about what strangers had to say about who he was in love with.

You blinked, shocked and puzzled by Steve’s words. This was like a full 180, you weren’t used to Steve rebelling like this. You figured maybe he was just worked up, and you didn’t want to be the reason he got in trouble. You knew he had his responsibilities, regardless of how you felt. You didn’t expect him to put you above everything, you knew he had to deal with matters like this in a specific way. You tried to calm him down,

“Steve, you’re sweet. But you should go through with what your team wants. I mean, it’s what’s best, isn’t it?”

Steve cocked his head at you,

“And keep doing this in secret? I mean, we can’t keep this up for long, doll, you know that. If I deny it now and the truth somehow comes out, that’d be even worse. I know my team is saying the opposite, but I think this is what’s best. The rumors, the gossip… it’ll come to a stop. What we have is stronger than that.”

You grinned, your eyes glossy,

“I know, but I don’t wanna be the reason you get in trouble.”

Steve inched closer to you and cupped your face firmly with his hands, looking into your eyes,

“You’re not. And you won’t be. Don’t blame yourself for a second. I’m taking care of this, alright? You’ve done so much for me and you don’t even know it. It would be a disservice to the both of us if I didn’t stand up for us. Don’t worry about me, don’t worry about my job. I was wrong to ever make you feel like that was your responsibility more than it was my own. We’ll be alright.”

Steve was true to his word. As the day progressed and word spread even more, soon enough there was a statement to match the rumors. It wasn’t what the publicists or his fellow Avengers wanted to hear, but it was what he thought was right. And there was no reversing it. Later that day you sat on your laptop, scrolling through the recently updated articles on your situation.

Superhero Captain America, known to those in his personal life as Steve Rogers, admits that he has been in a private relationship for the past few months. Rogers and his team ask that their privacy be maintained and respected despite the shocking, unexpected news. At the time, Rogers and his fellow Avengers will not be taking any further inquiries about the matter, and they are taking this violation of privacy and security very seriously.

You breathed out a sigh of relief as you read the statement, mulling it over a few times in your head. All Steve wanted was to keep you safe and get as much information that had been revealed about you taken down. You weren’t quite sure what you were going to do from here on out— your sensitive profession had been exposed and this was something that would quite likely impact you for the rest of your life.

How could you be expected to be taken seriously to get a career when you had been trashed and defamed on the internet for your job? It seemed that still, no one quite understood sex work and that it was just as legitimate a profession as anything else, and you knew from the start that sex workers were looked down upon. You had done everything right— you used an alias, you didn’t give away personal information. And now, your face was plastered on gossip websites, with links to the very cam site you used.

Needless to say, you were stressed. But, you weren’t panicking. You were processing everything and it was all so overwhelming. In the grand scheme of things, you weren’t being nitpicky about the specifics. You had faith that you would figure this all out, that everything would be back to normal soon. Whatever that meant for your future, you weren’t sure. But you refused to lose hope. Not yet. You’d pick yourself back up from the ground and dust yourself off, just like you’d done so many times before. The difference was that Steve would be there for you every step of the way.

Steve was out again handling important business. He’d talked to you before leaving and you understood that he’d have to be gone for a few hours trying to juggle this insane situation. In the meantime, you decided that since you had time, you’d call back everyone who had been bombarding you with messages and calls. Firstly, you’d call your parents. You dialed your dad’s number and he picked up almost immediately.

You could hear him calling your mother’s name so she could talk to you too, and you heard her scramble up to the phone to talk.

“YN, what the hell is going on?” your mother asked, but she sounded more concerned than upset.

“We’ve been calling all day, we’ve been worried sick. Everyone’s been asking about you and we had no clue what was going on,” your father continued.

You were surprised at their tone. Perhaps ever since your awkward dinner with them where you’d revealed what was likely your biggest secret, there had been a shift. You were surprised when they were so quick to accept you despite being so distant from you your whole life, being the root of your emotional issues. You sighed, rubbing your forehead,

“Look, I know it’s a lot.”

“Are you okay, sweetie? Be honest,” your mother pleaded, and you made a face,

“I’m fine, it’s been a stressful day, but-”

“No, I mean in general. We… we know we haven’t been talking much, but this… this whole thing, it’s-- we’re worried about you. You just go off to New York without saying a thing to anyone? You’re in some secret relationship with a man twice your age?”

You understood their concern, but at the same time, you knew you weren’t being irrational by doing these things. Instead, you were doing what made you happy. This wasn’t a spontaneous, crazy decision. You and Steve were both extremely logical people, and you weren’t unstable just because you did this without anyone knowing. You had your reasons.

“Look, I… this is something I did on my own. I’m an adult and I’m doing what's best for me. And, obviously, there was a reason I didn’t tell anyone. I mean, he’s- he’s not just some random guy. And what we have is… you might not understand it, but that doesn’t mean there’s something wrong with me.”

“I just wish you felt like you could talk to us.”

“Yeah. Me too. Listen, I just wanted to call you to let you know that I’m fine. I don’t really know what’s next, but I’ll try to keep you updated, alright? Don’t worry about me, everything will be okay.”

“What about all those posts about you? The things people are saying, it’s- and your safety! This is serious.”

“Dad, I know. We are working it out, believe me. I’m just as worried as you are. I’m probably more worried. But you know what, I knew the risk in coming here, and I knew what I was doing. And I’m still glad I did it. Steve means so much to me, and I’m not gonna let this change that. But all that matters is that I’m okay. I just wanted to call you and tell you that.”

“Well, we’re glad to hear that you’re okay. There’s just so much about you that we’re just now finding out, we have every reason to be worried.”

“Yes, you do, and you’re right. If things were different… well. Anyways. I love you both, I’ll call you later,” you said, hanging up without waiting for them to reply.

At least that was off your plate.

| | |

The next morning, you woke up with Steve by your side, holding you in his arms. Needless to say, yesterday had been incredibly eventful, and by the time Steve got back home, there was nothing left to do except sleep the day off. It seemed as if your troubles were far in the past, considering how quickly everything had been handled. You had to hand it to Steve, he was the one who had to talk to so many people yesterday- legal teams, PR, his team members, just to clear the air. And of course, people were still talking about everything. But the initial shock and widespread reaction from yesterday was already beginning to calm down. It was still a bit dark in the bedroom, and Steve was still asleep, his arms wrapped around you.

You stretched to reach your phone on the side table and started scrolling. There were still articles up and pictures of you up, but Steve was working to wipe those out to protect your privacy. You chewed on your bottom lip worriedly. Even after this was all over, you’d have to figure out what the hell you were going to do. Would you have to stop camming? Would you have to throw away all hopes of any other career as well? This was all on your mind.

Suddenly, Steve’s hand was wrapped around your phone, pulling it out of your grasp. He sighed sleepily, his voice still groggy and deep,

“What’d I tell you about that?”

“I know…” you pouted, turning to face him. His eyes were closed, but you knew he was listening. “Shouldn’t keep looking for updates.”

“Mm,” Steve hummed. “You’ll be alright, YN. I’ll make sure of that.”

“Promise?” you asked.

“I promise.”

That was all the reassurance you needed for now.

Eventually, you both woke up and got ready for the day. You weren’t doing much of anything, since you’d have to stay low for a few days. But it meant you got to be in each other’s company all day, so you weren’t exactly complaining. You were laying in between Steve’s legs on the couch, your head resting on his chest.

Today was supposed to be your last day, but due to recent events, there had been a change in plans. You would probably stay here until this all settled, then go back to Cali and deal with business back home. Luckily for you, your friends were supportive all the way. They were astonished and shocked of course, but incredibly happy for you. They’d be there for you just as much as Steve would.

“You okay, doll?” Steve asked, and you glanced up at him.

“Good as I can be. Are you okay?” you asked.

“Better than yesterday,” Steve chuckled, his blue eyes glimmering. “My team is still working on taking down any private information about you, by the end of this week, we should be all good-”

“Steve,” you flopped over, straddling his legs now. Instinctively, he reached up to caress your arm and your thigh.

“Hmm?” he hummed, looking up at you.

“What happens after this? I mean, as far as I’m concerned, any hopes of getting a serious job are kind of fucked now.”

“That’s not true,” Steve furrowed his brows, frowning. He didn’t want you to feel like this incident would mess up your whole future.

“Steve, I majored in environmental policy. That’s like, government job type shit. I have to be someone who’s reputable. And I don’t know many people who are looking to hire a porn star sugar baby. I mean, that’s what everyone’s been calling me.”

“But you’re not that. And once we clear up all this, I promise you, no one will think that about you. you’ Besides, Stark Industries is always looking for people like that, you could work for-”

You put your finger to his lips, shaking your head with a small smile,

“Ah ah ah. You know I like to do things myself.”

You didn’t want to just beat around the bush and take the easy way out of all this. You liked knowing that you were accomplishing what you were accomplishing all on your own. If you worked for Steve or his team, it would just feel like giving up.

“I know, and I love that about you. But why make things so hard on yourself?”

You shrugged,

“I don’t see it like that. I see it like… like making my own way. You know? I’d probably be set for life if I worked for Tony Stark. But… I don’t know, it’s just a thing I have. I like to get it myself.”

Steve sighed slowly, shaking his head with a sly smile. His girl, such a go-getter. That aspect of you was honestly a turn-on for him. You didn’t want anyone to be able to say they did something major for you, and even though there were flaws within that ideology, he had to give you credit where credit was due. You were a hard worker. You liked to do things on your own and know that you were where you were because of your own discipline and hard work. Not because your boyfriend had recommended you.

“You are something else,” Steve shook his head.

“Mm hmm,” you grinned knowingly, stretching your hands along his chest.

“Listen, I can’t predict the future. But I will be there for you. And I know how much you like to hustle and do things on your own, but it’s good to accept help sometimes, doll. And I want to help you through this. Don’t think the worst of everything. You’ve always managed, even in the worst of times. This is no different. No job you apply for is going to try to judge you, I can guarantee you that. I’ll make sure of that, no matter how much you try to stop me.”

You scoffed, smirking,

“You’re such a guy.”

“I do it for you.”

Accepting help. Maybe Steve was right. Just because you accepted someone’s help didn’t mean you hadn’t done something on your own. And when it came to something like this, you needed all the help you could get, even if you didn’t want to admit that. It didn’t make you any less of an independent woman.

| | |

You woke up to thousands more follower requests the next day as you ate breakfast sitting at the kitchen counter. Steve was at the stove, finishing up his own plate, and you were chewing your eggs pensively as you scrolled through your Instagram. Ever since the day everything went down, you’d been getting a lot of attention. Most of it was honestly unwanted. Magazines you actually read were DMing you, asking to interview you, wanting the inside scoop on “the life of Captain America’s girlfriend.” You didn’t pay them any mind, because that was attention you didn’t want. You cringed to think of yourself being interviewed by a reporter about personal matters for fifteen minutes of fame.

But the attention wasn’t all bad, and now that you thought about it, maybe your future wouldn’t be so scary. Whether you liked it or not, you were almost like a celebrity now, and celebrities always had their scandals and their speculations, and they still got booked. Maybe this was meant to be, to steer your life in a different direction.

It didn’t seem ideal, and you didn’t even want fame. You certainly didn’t want to be known as “Steve Rogers’ girlfriend.” If you knew one thing, it was that you were going to make a name out of yourself before people tried to make one for you. Now that you were thinking about it, you could honestly seize this opportunity.

Even the sales for your clothing brand had hiked up since that day. People actually took an interest in what you had to offer, and you’d rather they take an interest in that than your personal life. You had no real interest in becoming some mystical figure or some it girl who was on Steve’s arm. You were just a regular, hardworking girl from California, and you wouldn’t lose sight of that. But if this was going to happen, you were going to take advantage of it.

“Steve,” you said his name, and he turned to face you, putting his plate together.

“Yeah?”

“Look at my Instagram,” you pointed your phone screen towards him and he squinted. “All these follower requests. And I keep getting orders, this is insane.”

Steve grinned, beaming. He was glad that something good was coming out of all this for you. He knew you didn’t want or like attention, but this went to show that all eyes on you wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. He knew you knew how to flip it and turn it into something beneficial for you. You weren’t the kind of girl to bask in attention just because. You would make something out of this.

“I’m proud, YN, honestly. You know that’s all you, right?”

You chuckled, shaking your head,

“Kinda crazy to wrap my head around. I don’t wanna be this sensationalized person or this public figure, but, fuck. This isn’t at all how I imagined my life going. I could make something out of this. It’s such a turn around, but maybe it was supposed to happen.”

“I’m sorry about all this unwanted attention. But if I know you, you’ll make it work.”

It was interesting, this unwanted celebrity. You had to accept that people would start to know you. You could capitalize off this and highlight your brand, make people pay attention to that instead of your private life. You could even put your studies to work and create an environmental company. You wouldn’t just work for Stark Industries, you’d create an industry of your own. Of course, this was all in theory, and you had to gather yourself before you did those things. But the fact that this was possible just because of some unwanted attention reminded you that you could always flip a bad situation into something ten times better.

| | |

“Fuck, Steve, I can’t,” you were panting heavily, sweat dripping down your forehead as you grasped onto his biceps.

Safe to say, since you were laying low and there wasn’t much to do, this was a very reliable option, every time. Now that the stress of the past few days was winding down, you were finally able to focus on what you had both been neglecting, which was each other’s bodies. Every time Steve was inside you, it was as good as the first time, if not better. You’d been going at it for hours now, partially because Steve didn’t have anything else to do and his endurance was ridiculous. You almost wanted to slap his pretty face for being able to go so long like this, drawing out your pain and your pleasure so effortlessly, only to kiss his cheek afterwards.

“Yes you can, doll, I know you can,” Steve said, not nearly as breathless as you were— it was safe to say sex with Steve was a workout. “Come for me just one more time.”

“Mm,” you whined, lifting yourself up with the help of Steve’s hands clasped beneath your shaking thighs, feeling him shift inside you. You cursed, biting down on your lip and glancing down at where you two met with your brows wrung together.

You were a mess. Both you and Steve had already came multiple times, but Steve wasn’t in a rush. He was honestly handcrafted by the devil. And since you were together, Steve had grown so much more confident. You switched in bed, sometimes you took the lead and sometimes Steve did, and sometimes it wasn’t about who was in the lead. But right now, Steve had you about to beg for mercy.

“Fuck, that looks so good, just watching me stretch you out like that,” Steve groaned, his eyes lowering to watch you slowly drop up and down on his cock, which was coated in your slick arousal. “You like this? Riding me for hours, coming over and over again on my cock?”

You shuddered with an almost humiliating moan, nodding your head because you weren’t able to speak. But Steve wasn’t letting you off that easy. He gripped your jaw with his hand, prying your mouth open.

“Use your words,” he said, nodding slowly and mouthing ‘yes.’

“Yes,” you stuttered out, feeling as Steve pulsed inside of you. You sounded ridiculous, pathetic, and you knew you looked absolutely filthy in the best way possible. You began to ramble. “Yes, yes, I love when you take me like this and— fuck— force me to come for you.”

“Mmm,” Steve hummed like he was taking your words into consideration, mulling it over in his mind. “Yeah. You love this. You look so pretty like this.”

Pretty wasn’t the word you’d use to describe it. It was messy. You were practically drooling, and your body felt as exposed as it had ever been. Steve’s own cum from the previous times he came was pouring out of you each time you slid down onto him, and you were incredibly wet still. The sound your bodies made meeting was almost criminal. You were hot and sticky and sweaty and still somehow ridiculously gorgeous to Steve, and you looked even better when he was torturing you with pleasure.

You gasped raggedly when Steve had the audacity to bring his fingers down to your clit, those thick, unforgettable fingers that he used to stretch you out every time before you took his cock, rubbing harsh circles against your sensitive clit. Your whole body seemed to shudder, and Steve chuckled lowly, not even trying to hide the smirk that appeared on his face. Oh, you would so be getting him back for this.

“That feel good, doll?”

“Fuck,” you whined, your hand flinging to his wrist to keep his fingers there doing the same motion.

Your body seemed to tighten and coil up, your eyes squeezing shut before you let go, and before you knew it, you were cumming on his cock. Or more like squirting, the way it seemed never ending and made your whole body convulse. Steve groaned as you soaked his torso and his legs, stilling yourself on his length and riding your orgasm out. He must have come inside you a few times while you were squirting. Wet tears, the good, hot kind, were forming down your cheeks as you come for what feels like the hundredth time in the span of a few slow, tantalizing hours.

“There you go, darling, I knew you could do it,” Steve finally pulled out of you, still hard against his stomach. He reached up and wiped the tears off your face. “Now do that again on my face.”

Fuck. You’d get him back another day.

| | |

“Oh fuck, right there,” you sighed in ecstasy.

Steve’s hands were kneading into your back with expertise. He seemed to know just what he was doing, relieving all the tension from your spine and shoulders, and god knows you needed it. It had been about a week since the news came out, and everything seemed much less urgent now.

Reports about you two were dwindling, especially because you had stayed lowkey and didn’t flaunt your relationship about town. But it was almost freeing that you had the liberty to do so now, even if your relationship had been unfairly exposed. At least now, you could go out together without wondering if you’d get caught.

Steve chuckled and finished up, rolling off of you and facing you on the bed, his eyes glittering as he smiled at you.

“You know,” you started, reaching your hand out to stroke his cheek. “I’m kinda glad this all happened. Is that selfish?”

“No,” Steve grinned, shaking his head and reveling in the touch of your hand on his cheek. He grasped your wrist, gazing into your eyes.

These past few months had been such a whirlwind for the both of you. The both of you were doing things that surprised you, that made you endlessly happy. Steve had never felt more grateful for anything or anyone in his life. You helped him grow, and he did the same for you. He couldn’t see his future without you, and he didn’t even want to imagine it. He knew you were irreplaceable, he knew this was meant to be. Your odd circumstances and the unconventional way you met seemed to emphasize that truth. There was a reason why he had been so blue without you, and there was a reason why he had come back. Deep down, he knew all along that it was worth it, that you were worth it. Nothing else had ever been so clear to him, especially in that moment, gazing into your deep, warm eyes.

His heart blossomed with that irrevocable feeling, and before he could stop himself, the words were bubbling out of his mouth,

“I love you.”

You didn’t have to think, didn’t have to second guess yourself before you replied. You knew it all along, it was just a matter of time before one of you actually said it. And now, after you’d been through so much together, after you’d taught each other so much, and healed from so much as a collective, there was no reluctance. You weren’t scared to admit that it was true.

“I love you,” you said, with a soft grin and a dreamy look in your eyes.

You didn’t know how long you stayed there together, looking at each other and kissing and holding each other, but it was enough time to make you forget the world.

ayeeee!!! as a bonus, i’m including this lil thing i made, it’s supposed to be what i imagine moonrose’s IG to look like! the pictures are not her faceclaims, they’re just black women that i imagine moonrose to look like LMAO but she’s free to look like whatever u want her to ♡ this is her aesthetic!!

ENJOY! new chapter soon hopefully!!!!

tags added later ♡

#the l bomb #steve rogers #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers fic #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers smut #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x yn #marvel #marvel imagine #marvel fic #smut #captain america #captain america fic #captain america smut #captain america x reader

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4328fox · 3 years

Text

Sweatshirt-Related Blues

summary: Alternatively, Yuri thinks about the routine that's setting in his life when it comes to dating Flynn.

notes: This was a drabble I did a month ago trying to work through my handful of writing ideas. I wasn't initially going to post it, especially not the second chapter, but I still feel relatively proud of both, so here they are. I mostly wanted to poke at Yuri (modern au setting) about thoughts he would likely deny of every having passed through his mind.

2k words. link to AO3

both chapters are also on the read more below!

SIDE A

Another calm afternoon goes by. Yuri continues typing on his computer as he strings his thoughts along, thoughts among the lines of I don’t get why you just don’t note these stuff down, while some from Brave Vesperia lament their loss in some scavenger-hunting video game. Yuri played a bit of it himself, but took to just watching Karol, Rita, Estelle and Patty mess around. He chuckles when he reads Rita’s clearly annoyed reply, and types up a quick one of his own. And then Estelle asks, isn’t it five in the afternoon now? Yuri sneaks a quick glance at the time on the monitor.

“Shit. I’m gonna be late.”

Yuri almost jumps out of the chair to get ready, but as he gets up, he decides to shoot a quick goodbye to his friends. Have fun lol, is how he finishes up the message, before he rushes back to his bed, where Repede has been resting.

“Come on, buddy, we can’t keep Flynn waiting.” Though Yuri very well recognizes that the fault will fall on him more than on his sleeping companion. He discards the sleep wear he put back on after running some morning errands, and grabs the clothes he dropped over the bed. Some bermuda shorts and a sweatshirt that is too light for the drizzling weather. At the very least, he feels good wearing those, so why pick a new outfit? Flynn’s definitely going to comment that I’d get cold. As if that really bothered Yuri to begin with.

He does a quick pat over his pocket, for his wallet. There. And he slides his phone comfortably into the other one. Repede just then has awoken fully, attentive to Yuri’s haste.

“Okay, let’s go.” He tries to comb a hand through his hair, but he instantly gets stuck on a painful knot. Yuri hisses a bit. “Or maybe in a minute.”

After a quick brushing session, Yuri slid his sneakers on and left the apartment, with Repede in tow. That’s when he gets a text. He opens it up, and as suspected, it’s from Flynn. Asking him if Yuri’s late again. That’s all routine.

The time they have together ends up amazing. To think they could make a competition out of bowling. As a result, Flynn paid for both their meals at the local restaurant. They spent longer than expected just chatting and eating, cooling down from earlier. They’d been sitting across one another on the table, exchanging the occasional grins between one another. And Yuri continuously stole glances from Flynn as they talked to one another, without being self-conscious of it like he used to be. That’s one perk in finally getting together. Their feelings are laid out on the table, there is no need to dance around excuses.

Flynn checks the wristwatch on his free hand, and Yuri just then realises he was entirely too focused on the hand itself. Their eyes meet.

“Yuri, it’s getting a bit late. Should we go?”

Yuri sips the remainder of his milkshake as he thinks. “Yeah. We can. I don’t have anything to be up in the morning for, though.”

“I have something from 10 in the morning.”

They both stand up, ready to head out. Yuri reaches for Flynn’s hand, taking it tentatively. It’s warm and slightly rough to the touch, but Yuri knows it’s as rough as his own. Flynn squeezes his hand and looks at Yuri to smile.

“I take it that you enjoyed tonight?”

“Hell yeah,” Yuri replies, “I beat you at bowling, I got free food. I think I got it pretty well.”

“I see that our date was just another contest to you.”

“Not my fault you lost.”

They continue bickering all the way to Yuri’s apartment. Flynn goes up the elevator with him, all the way to the entrance to Yuri’s apartment. This is routine, as dates with Flynn have been. Usually the outings would come and go, and one would escort the other and go home. They would hold hands. They kissed a few times.

“I’ll text you later.” Flynn says, quieter than his usual. He sounds so soft, it makes Yuri think that the sudden pounding in his heart is louder.

But he tries to keep it cool. “What, you don’t want to sleepover? Like the usual?”

“I didn’t bring any spare clothes with me. Or cleaning utilities. And I have classes.” Flynn laughs sheepishly. He takes both of Yuri’s hands in his own, but only for a brief moment.

“Aren’t the ones you’re taking in particular online? You just login in from my desktop and you’d be set.”

“I appreciate the sentiment, though I do hold to my lack of spare clothes.”

“Fine, fine.” Yuri rolls his eyes as they continue smiling. Yuri feels like they’re both the dazed fools from some picture-perfect storybook.

And then they look at each other. Yuri watches how Flynn suddenly grows nervous, swallowing a bit. It makes Yuri want to be just a bit selfish… To place one kiss on Flynn’s neck, where he knows it would tickle, to feel Flynn chuckle because Yuri for a fact knows that neither of them are very well-versed in being openly affectionate at all.

He leans in, hand lifting to cup Flynn’s face. The gentle press of their lips reminds Yuri of the static he would feel back when he dreamt of kissing Flynn, back when he was clueless of how bad he got it. And just like in his dreams, the kiss lasts for seconds, before one or both of them inevitably pull away. Yuri feels Flynn’s hand over his own.

But what if this were different from the dreams? What if Yuri pressed their lips again, chasing the feeling of Flynn being close? They’ve only ever had these short and sweet kisses, the types to make any hopeless romantic jealous. Yuri never thought he would be here like this, but there is always an exception when it comes to Flynn.

Both his hands are now on Flynn’s face, stroking his cheeks with thumbs. The kiss is slow, yet it quickly renders them breathless. They bump noses, they don’t really know where to put their hands, it’s not a smooth sail. But it was never meant to be elegant to begin with, given they’re in some old apartment complex corridor. Yuri feels Flynn kiss with the same amount of reluctance out of inexperience, but the very fact he’s wrapping his arms around Yuri’s back makes Yuri’s heart swell.

They part, but they’re still holding one another. Yuri, expecting to see the same face and the same blue eyes he loves, finds that it’s Flynn who's buried his face in Yuri’s neck. It makes Yuri feel adrenaline rush instantly, his cheeks feeling fuzzy and pulling at the corners of his mouth. It takes another second or two for him to realise that his boyfriend isn’t trying to kiss his neck, like he expected, but is instead just hiding his face.

Yuri finds it incredibly endearing. He should have expected this. He hugs back, not as tightly, but his hands rub Flynn’s back. “It’s gonna get cold for real if you stay out here any longer.”

Muffled through Yuri’s sweatshirt, Flynn says: “Your fault if I go out and get a cold.”

“You’re the one wearing a polo like you’re a divorced dad.” He slowly breaks off the hug, because he still wants to give Flynn a quick look over. Not entirely because their kiss just now woke thoughts in Yuri that he is desperately trying to keep dormant.

“Now it’s “divorced dad”? I would appreciate it if you stuck with one name when it came to my fashion sense.”

“It’s all atrocious is what it is.” Yuri grins, crossing his arms as soon as Flynn steps out of hugging range.

“And yet you still date me.”

“You’re lucky I like you, yeah. Now go home, if you cherish your special shower gel more than video game night.”

“I wouldn’t want to wound your pride after the amount of gloating you did over bowling.” Flynn chuckles at the thought, before his smile settles to something softer. “Goodnight, Yuri.”

It takes Yuri a beat to remember he’s supposed to go inside his apartment. “Yeah. Night.”

He fishes out the keys from his shorts’ pockets and unlocks his door in a swift move. After a quick wave from them both, Flynn turns his back to leave, while Yuri (and Repede, who was waiting diligently), are within the comfort of their home. Yuri sighs, a bit breathless, as he drops his keys and wallet to the side.

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

SIDE B

Yuri daydreams more, as of late. When he and Flynn spend time together, the urge to be closer lingers on his mind. How much closer can he get to Flynn anyway? They go on dates somewhat regularly, they chat, they hang out with their friends. There’s sleepovers where they play video games to an ungodly hour, days where Yuri sits Flynn down just to help him recite whatever he was meant to study for a test.

And then there’s affection. Words of endearment, lingered in small doses of insult toward one another, there’s the occasional hand-holding, and there’s standing close at times. And then there’s Flynn’s different ways of showing his love, the tight embraces, the kisses…

Yuri wants more. And it’s such a selfish and such a strong urge forming itself in his brain and not leaving. Now that they’ve been dating for closer to a year, Yuri lays after dates in his bed, agonizing over himself. What more is there to want? Isn’t this calm in the sea much better than chaos contained within the waves? Yuri is lucky enough that their feelings ended up being mutual, because he never even imagined he would get this far with Flynn.

But that is a vice of itself, Yuri thinks, because it makes him dream. The deeper kisses he and Flynn shared in rare instances could not satisfy all urges, the parts of Yuri he would much rather purge out of existence.

Yuri wishes Flynn were here. That they were embracing over Yuri’s bed, that they were kissing. He’d probably been the one to push Flynn toward the bed, he realises. He’s the enabler in many ways, even if it’s something deemed so selfish. Yuri turns to lay on his side at the thought. Bodies pressed closer, warm feelings contained between them. Yuri thinks about Flynn’s hands, and how they would move to pull Yuri closer, while the gentle touch would leave him longing for some sappy words, some sappy expressions of love.

They’ve yet to settle comfortably in love declarations too. Yuri implies it with words, actions, never using the word itself. Flynn is a bit better about this, though he is just as skittish. If nothing else, he is much better at expressing his affection just through his choice of words than Yuri is. It isn’t that Yuri would mind saying the three words, because he imagines them escaping between him and Flynn, between hushed kissing. But he has yet to find the strength to say them. Yuri can only hope that he is at least able to express them.

He wants to make Flynn feel the same things Yuri is feeling now. He wants to move his hands, his lips, to lay over Flynn, to cup his face and to kiss him harder, until they both are breathless, laughing tired, basking in each other’s comfort. He doesn’t want one of them to have to go home after a date, he doesn’t want them to end on sweet kisses only. He wants them to spend the night, less as best friends still navigating their relationship, but closer to lovers who have been waiting for too long...

The moment Yuri realises he’s gotten too lost in his thoughts, he sits up, almost abruptly. His heart beats hard, it’s all he can hear in the darkness of the night. In the wake of it all, Yuri isn’t sure he is able to accept how he gets about this stuff.

He shuffles his hand through the night stand, until he picks up his phone. A little past 1am. Yuri supposes it’s fair. There aren't any text-related notifications, but he still opens the app for his group chats. Still no notification he happened to miss. Yuri taps the chat with Flynn, the latest message being some reply from Flynn over a meme Yuri sent. It says he’s online, so he’s probably studying.

Yuri begins typing, and he can feel his heart pound through his hands, making them feel weirdly clammy. Yuri pays little attention to it, but to think that he would feel like this… To be honest, it’s nice. That Yuri isn’t immune to something like the fluttering feelings of dating meant that all his thoughts that he can’t say out loud are normal.

He stares at his message for Flynn. He swallows, and he reads through it again. His thumb hovers over the send button. But he presses backspace.

i wish you stayed the night. i love you.

#tales of vesperia #fluri #yuri lowell #flynn scifo #writing tag

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wastelandcth · 4 years

Note

could you possibly write about calum being a protective boyfriend in public? ya know how he called the paps a c*nt and flipped them off, that should show how he doesn’t accept anyone’s shit so maybe the couple is at the club with the guys and gals and paps make a rude remark and she tells cal it’s okay or maybe she’s in the club and a guy keeps hitting on her and you can tell she’s uncomfortable?

that video of Calum calling that pap out was...hot 😳 thank you for requesting! i love moody and protective Calum 🙄

Privacy

When they first started dating, Calum was worried she'd leave him over the attention. It was too much for him at times so he knew it'd be too could become much for her at some point. One of the first conversations they'd had after making things official was about how his job had consequences when it came to relationships. How there would be times where it seemed like the whole world was against them being together, where people who claimed to be fans of the band would send her messages that weren't so nice. So they both decided to give their relationship time to flourish before they announced it to the world.

A few months in, Calum had decided a picnic in the park was warranted. The springtime weather shining down on both of them as they set up their blanket in the semi-empty park. The afternoon was filled with laughter, shared snacks, and reading from a book Calum had been meaning to get through before he'd left for tour. Her head was laying in his lap as she listened to his voice read out loud, her eyes closed as she took in the story.

Calum's hands laid down the book next to her head when he heard the sound of a photo being taken. His eyes scanned the park, his eyes widening behind the round sunglasses he was wearing as he saw what could only be a paparazzi running off after being spotted. His bottom lip was between his teeth as he tried to keep calm, not wanting to ruin the calm afternoon they'd created. Maybe he'd been taking a picture of someone else, the bucket hat and sunglasses hiding most of him to the world. Maybe he was mistaken and the person was just taking a picture of the scenery, nothing to do with them. Looking down at her, Calum smiled a bit, picking the book back up and continuing where he had left off.

Their relationship being exposed by an annoying paparazzi wasn't the ideal way to tell the world that Calum Hood was no longer the only single member of the band. The day after their picnic, the pictures were posted online, Calum wasted no time calling the label and trying to figure out what to do. He was angry, he was beyond pissed. His privacy, her privacy, was just thrown out the window and there was nothing he could do to take back those pictures according to the label. The whole world knew about them now.

Calum stormed out of his house, trying to escape the world as he drove around the city, trying to clear his mind from the bullshit he'd spent an hour reading online. The fans were all losing their minds over the pictures of him at the park with a so-called mysterious girl laying her head on his lap. The internet wanted to know who she was and why she was there with him. In his haste to leave his house, Calum realized he'd be running out of gas if he didn't stop somewhere soon. Pulling into the closest gas station, Calum slid his sunglasses on as he tried to hide himself, not that it mattered much since as soon as the gas pump started filling up his car, he was met by two men with camera's harassing him with questions about his new relationship and the ordinary girl everyone wanted to know about.

"What do you even see in her Calum? Is it just a good fuck for you? Or is she just in it for the money?" one of them asked as the pump stopped, causing Calum's blood to boil. His jaw was clenched as his head snapped to look over at them both.

"What the fuck did you just say to me?" he asked, his voice clear of any confusion. He knew they were trying to get a reaction out of him, to push him to the edge so they could get content. But he wasn't going to let them talk about her like that, she didn't deserve to be disrespected like that. "Why don't you just fuck off and leave me and my girlfriend alone, yeah? Because next time you say shit like that I won't hesitate to make you regret it, you ass." he scoffed, getting back into his car and trying to stop his hands from shaking as he pulled out of the gas station and continued his drive.

His car ride ended when he found himself parked in her driveway. His hands still shaking but he needed to make sure she was okay. Using the key she'd given him a couple of weeks back to let himself into the apartment, Calum expected to be hit with a flying projectile, to see her angry at the privacy that had been invaded. But instead, he found her in the kitchen, her favorite album playing throughout the house as she scrubbed the sink.

Calum raised an eyebrow as he watched her, she seemed so carefree, singing along to the song that she loved so much. Setting down the keys on the counter, Calum was met with a small shriek from her, her wide eyes meeting his before she laughed, her hand falling from her chest back down to the counter.

"You scared me, jerk." she laughed, walking over to pull him into a tight hug, "I didn't know you were stopping by, everything okay?" she asked softly as she looked up into his brown eyes, frowning a bit as she noticed they were full of worry.

"You...you haven't been online today?" Calum asked confused, "I...there's pictures of us from yesterday. Everyone knows about us, I-I'm sorry." he frowned. "I basically threatened a couple of paps today too because they were talking shit and now you're going to leave because everyone online is horrible and I.." he sighed, his hands coming up to rub his face, "You didn't deserve that to happen,"

Calum was scared. Scared that he was going to lose her over something as small as a picture. But it wouldn't be the first time something like this happened to him. He'd lost many friends over the attention that came with being associated with him and the band. Whether it was the fans wanting to know more about them to get more information on him or they simply became power-hungry, using Calum for attention. Looking into her eyes, he sighed, because it might've been the last time he was able to do so.

"I mean, I know it wasn't the ideal way for people to find out about us. But it happened and now people know so there's no point in me being angry. At least we looked good in the pictures Cal, could've been worse, you know?" she said and laughed softly, her arms wrapping around his waist as she kissed his nose gently, "They could've snapped us ugly singing in your car." she teased, her laughter filling up Calum's ears.

Calum's anger and worries subsided as he pulled her close, relief washing over him, because even if they had been exposed to the world, at least he still had her by his side. There was no need to sugarcoat the stupidity online, she understood that his life was just this way and she wasn't going to leave him. And she was right, at least the pictures of them were cute, so when they found their way saved onto Calum's phone, he couldn't complain much.

#calum hood imagine #5sos imagines #5sos blurbs #calum hood blurb #5sos one shot #calum hood one shot #5sos #calum hood #gemma writes #anon requested

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plush-rabbit · 4 years

Text

Can I Ask You Something?

Part 1 | Part 2 |

Word Count: 2.8K

A/N: I wanted to write something soft because I’ve been having lots of feels lately and well here’s the result. Hope you enjoy＼\٩( 'ω' )و //／ Also I know nothing about how video games work other than Animal Crossing and Kirby so, yeah.

This will be a series. I’m not sure how many parts since it’s a slow burn and right now it sits at 20K words and they still haven’t met so... Yeah. This is mainly self-indulgent and I am open to feedback.

You ended up meeting Tomura, or as his online name was called, Tomaraki, on an online game where you were introduced into the raid group by another member. During your time there, you held your own well enough and had even had an above average skill chart.

After taking out a particular challenging mission, a good number of the kills being on your part, your teammates congratulated you, telling you words of praise and thanking you for having their backs, all while in the headset you giggled, saying that you had just gotten lucky with some of your shots and that they’re probably better than you would ever be.

Shigaraki had found that annoying. He found you annoying. If you were good at something, just take credit for it. Don’t try to act modest just because you want attention. And he told you that, his voice cutting into you like glass, all while you remained speechless, teeth digging into your bottom lip as everyone else in the team just listened how he tore into you. Two of the other members had come to your defense, trying to back you up but falling flat because while he was harsh, his words did hold merit. You were good, and it wasn’t luck because you had been playing for at least two months now so you had time to hone your skills. And you did want attention. You craved attention, you wanted to be told that you were good at something and you found that if you downplayed your skills, people would come to you and praise your work. And sure, you knew that that’s pretty shitty but you didn’t hear praise often and who cares, it felt good to be given praise. But you didn’t say any of that, you held your tongue, with the tips of your ears burning and hot tears pricking your eyes, you turned your avatar to face his and for a second you considered killing his avatar but scoffed. If you killed him, he’d only respawn and he was the best player of the group, having a high stats and being the highest level of the group, and no doubt, he could probably kick you out from the group and there wouldn’t be much resistance coming from the others, so in a calm voice you said told the group, “Let’s just return to the game. We have another mission to complete.” And with that, everything went back to normal, albeit a bit more tense, but you continued to start the mission a scowl on your lips, and when someone told you good job, you gave a brisk thanks in response, leaving no room for continued conversation.

Shigaraki, on the other hand, sneered at you through the screen, his hands coming up to pick at his scarred neck. You had taken the coward’s way out in his eyes. You didn’t talk back to him, the most you did was turn your avatar towards him and he knew that you finger was itching to shoot at his but when you told the team to continue, you had backed down, and now every praise that was given to you, you took it silently which was somehow worse than what you would do before. You couldn’t win in his eyes. He hated playing with others, but this was a rather addicting game and it worked best if played with others, the missions were cut to more than half of the time, sure sharing the loot was a pain but he always got a slightly bigger share than the others since he was at a higher rank than them. Plus- and he would never say this out loud- the team he found wasn’t half as bad as the other groups he had been in previously. They didn’t talk about their outside life, they didn’t try to be friends- they stuck with the goals set in the game, kept every conversation in theme to what they were playing, and they all were all skilled enough that he didn’t feel as if they were dragging him down. The only negative part was you.

You came in a month after he did, invited by the second highest player in the group. And you were annoying but he couldn’t deny that you were good and had hoarded so many healing items that the team rarely had to waste currency to buy the potions and elixirs from in-game vendors, so you stayed and like the others, you didn’t ask about the outside lives of the players, you kept the conversation related to the game.

But you weren’t that good. Your skill chart wasn’t special- you could be easily replaced by anyone else- if trained properly. The healing items weren’t expensive enough to deter from payment, it was just better to save up for the next big thing. But when you didn’t even offer a rebuttal, an attempt at trash talk to defend yourself, he knew that you were a coward. You didn’t have a bite or a bark, you were harmless- you were probably holding back tears as they played, only to bitch and moan about him to your friends or the other members when he was gone.

Finishing the mission, everyone said their goodbyes. However, right as everyone was logging off; you asked if the current schedule was still valid. The schedule was made each and every month, and it stated the best possible times for gaming with each other to complete missions or when the next major event was, it stayed updated and everyone made sure to be available during their promised times, very rarely did someone break it but when they did they had a valid excuse. Everyone had a copy, one being made and shared as a PDF file and posted to the private forum that the second in command had made. Shigaraki, clicked his tongue, “Of course it’s still valid. If it wasn’t there would have been an updated version of it by now dumbass.”

And with that, almost instantly, everyone began to log off, not wanting to be part of whatever was going on or having to face his virtual blow-up while you probably just sat there accepting all the insults without so much as a counterattack.

All you did was narrow your eyes at the screen and give out a curt ‘fine’ and log off. Shigaraki stared at the screen for a few second before proceeding to log off the sneer only getting deeper, his eyes narrowed into slits. His eyes burned from looking at a screen for a few hours with no break and his head was starting to hurt from having to deal with you and your idiocy. He laid down on his mattress where the metal springs dug a bit too deep into his back and he drifted off to sleep, while you on the other hand, burrowed yourself deep into your blankets, your face flush with embarrassment, recounting every wrong thing you said, your insecurities of needing to be liked rearing its ugly head and keeping you awake.

Shigaraki logs back in a week later. He’s ten minutes early, as always, and he’s in the beginning of a relatively quick quest in order to gain more experience points and in-game currency. As he proceeds to skip past the dialogue option of the villager thanking him, a ‘ding’ sound is made and on the right hand corner of his screen, your username and icon pops up. He only gives it a spare glance, before retuning his attention to the game collecting the rewards, becoming more irritated as another ‘ding’ fills the room. He shakes his head, he knows how this will go, you’ll only proceed to annoy him until he answers you. So he takes in a deep breath and opens the messaging system, typing out a ‘what’ in response without looking at what you’ve said before.

<User_Name>

>Look. I just wanted to apologize for my actions last week. You were right, I did want attention but like whatever. Anyways, I just wanted to make sure that we’re cool since we’ll be gaming together for the unforeseeable future.

>Is that all?

<User_Name>

>Yeah, I guess so?

>So like are we cool?

He rolled his eyes at your question. Your words were fake and forced, you just wanted to be liked but he didn’t want to deal with you. He didn’t want to waste his time going back and forth with you until you were satisfied.

>Whatever. We’re “cool”. Happy?

On the other side of the screen you rolled your eyes already feeling emotionally exhausted with this very short chat. You simply leaned back in your chair and let out a long breath. Not wanting to irritate him more than he already was, you sighed and replied with a “yeah, thanks:)” and exited the messaging system. You waited for the rest of the group to join, already feeling dejected from the brief interaction with the leader of the group.

The mission starts and everything goes flawless. Everything, except for you. You were off your game, not paying enough attention to your surroundings and losing a high number of health points and barely killing any of the opponents. The second in command, orders for the members to get in line so when the weapons appear, those with the highest kill count get to go first and choose what they want. Coincidently, this mission provided enough weapons so that that the whole team could get one each with one left over, but you all had agreed that the one with the highest count not only got to go first but also got to choose the extra weapon. So of course, Shigaraki goes first and he chooses two weapons and as his avatar begins to move away, he turns it around and grabs another. You take in a sharp breath, getting ready to argue but your words never come out, instead they die down in your throat and you get the sinking feeling that whatever game he’s playing, his endgame, is to make you feel like you can’t speak against him because you know that he’s more valuable than you’ll ever be. And he’s right. You feel comfortable with this group; you don’t want to be forced to leave simply because your leader is acting like a brat and you want tattle on him.

Once everyone has collected their weapons, everyone but you that is, they just stand their awkwardly knowing that he’s intentionally trying to get under your skin. Not wanting to drown in the awkwardness that has been created, you exclaim, “That was a good mission guys! Should we do another one or go our separate ways for now?”

A collective sound of discomfort fills the headsets, everyone muttering that maybe they should probably focus on solo missions for now to raise their levels and get some cool loot if possible. Everyone glowed and they were respawned elsewhere, no doubt opening up a separate chat and gossiping about the scene that just took place and if they should start looking for a new member sometime soon. And with them gone, your avatar and Shigaraki’s stood there, the silence only being broken by the crackling fire on the torches in-game.

“Can we please talk?” You asked, your voice cracking towards the end causing you grimace at the sound.

“About?” His voice was drenched in boredom; he doesn’t see why he should talk to you.

“Look, I get that we aren’t exactly friends- and-and that’s fine, but can we at least be civil towards each other?” You chose your words carefully, not wanting to insinuate that it was entirely his fault. “Like if I didn’t do good during the mission you could have just said it rather than leaving me without weapons and making me look dumb just standing there.” You voice trailed off towards the end, not knowing how to end it and a part of you realizing that you were probably making everything worse.

“You really don’t care that we aren’t friends?” He said the words in a mock attempt at your voice- condescendingly and ditzy; his upper lip curling in disgust. “Is that why you’re trying so hard to befriend me? How the hell am I supposed to be civil in a fucking game? What? You want me to start giving you some of my fucking winnings? Is that it?”

You bit your bottom lip, rolling it between your teeth, trying to figure out how to reply to him.

“Well?” You took too long to answer, whatever patience he had when starting the game was already running thin.

“No. I don’t want you to give me your winnings. I-I just-” you groaned and put your head in your hands- “I just want to be civil with each other. Look we don’t have to be friends but-but,” you voice was faltering, lowering into a whisper, “I just don’t want to leave this group. Come on. You have to admit that this is one of the better ones out there. The others are capable of holding their own and they aren’t like trying to pry into your personal life.” Not waiting for a reply you continued, your voice light, trying to get him to agree with you on that to find some common footing. “You have to at least admit that.”

He stares at the screen with unblinking eyes, his avatar doing some light stretches that synchronized with yours.

“Fine.”

Eyes widening, you lift your head back up, and you wanted to rush into the conversation but you held yourself back. “Do you want me to leave the group?” You scratch nervously at the corner of the ALT key, trying to focus on the sensation of your thumb rather than the lump in your throat.

“Are you really going to cry if I make you leave?” Guess even he could hear how choked up you were getting.

Your eyes widen slightly, unshed tear glistening your eyes, you glance down briefly. “I know it’s silly but I like the group,” you chuckle nervously. “So what’s the answer?”

“Do what you want.”

You pulled your lips into a thin line, you don’t know what you expected, but this was probably the best answer you were going to get from the gamer.

“Well, I’m going to stay.”

“Tch. Whatever.”

There’s silence after that. You stared at the screen and took a deep breath.

“You wanna go on a mission together? There’s one that requires two people and I hear the payoff is pretty good.” You wait anxiously for his answer, your arms are crossed in front of you and you’re dragging your nails across your forearms, finding comfort in the way the dull pain distracts you from your nerves. You have no idea where that offer came from. He just sort of accepted you and now you might ruin that because you wanted to become buddies with some stranger online.

“Being lonely really does make you do dumb things, doesn’t it?” You think to yourself.

Shigaraki stares at his screen, eyes narrowed, his chapped lips pulled into a thin line and a hand comes up to scratch as his neck. He hisses as his nails hit at a particularly fresh cut.

“Um, Tomaraki? You there?” Your voice is hesitant and wavers slightly.

He’ll regret this later, he’s sure of it. “What’s the mission about?”

He can hear you exhale the breath you were holding in and he can imagine a stupid grin plastered to your face.

“Okay, so get this-” Your voice grows distant as he rolls his eyes at your messy explanation of the mission, only offering grunts to show that he is listening and giving out a satisfactory hum when you mention that it’ll be against different team ups in real time, kind of like a waiting line for a new batch to go in, so you probably will have to kill people when the mission starts; a fight to the death type of deal, you summed up.

You both spawn to where the mission is held. Held in a queue for a few minutes, he goes over a quick plan, to just shoot at whatever moves and that he of course, gets more than half of the loot. You rolled your eyes and agreed, knowing that this was probably the most compromise that you’ll get from him.

The brawl to the death goes surprisingly well, you two actually win and he takes a little over half of the winnings, leaving you with two weapons and the healing items. You thank him and he only scoffs, saying that you two had a deal and he delivered, he doesn’t need thanks from you. You cringe at the reply, feeling his words bite into you but you brush it off. You tell him that you’ll see him later and that you had fun. You log off and feeling a bit lighter, glad that this ended on a fairly positive note.

///

Asked to tagged:

@bat-eclecticwolfbouquet-love

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august-anon · 4 years

Text

LERning New Things About Ourselves -- Pineapple’s Fics!

Note From August: With Pineapple taking a break from tumblr until she’s an adult, I will be hosting her fic on my blog for the time being. You can find them under tags like pineapple fics and pineapple writing. Once she is back, they will be deleted from my blog and reposted to her own. Thanks for being understanding to her during this time! Don’t forget to show her your love!

Word Count: 9111 words

Characters: lee!Virgil, ler!Roman

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

Virgil’s heart thudded out of his chest as he stared up at the maliciously coy smile leaning over him. He had never been so excited yet so terrified in his life. “So, darling,” cooed his captor. “Shall we begin your destruction?”

~~~~~~~~~~

It all started on that fateful day when Virgil Anthony decided to post an ad for a new roommate. His previous roommates, Patton and Logan each got married and moved away, leaving Virgil with an empty apartment and no friends.

He was surprisingly content with that reality had it not been for a silly little thing called “rent” that incessantly found itself worming its way into Virgil’s life, and grew impressively large throughout the months. So, deciding he wished to eat this month, he begrudgingly settled on posting a chipper little advertisement on their community college’s website requesting a new roommate, provided they could come up with $450 a month. Weeks passed by and he was starting to lose hope until finally, he got a reply. After a quick online interview, he found himself with a new roommate. Before Virgil knew it, it was moving day.

And that was when he met Roman Prince. Roman was… eccentric.. to say the least, but despite their slightly awkward interview, Virgil knew he was the one. And maybe it helped that he made twice what Virgil made in a week, and brought with him a flatscreen TV and a Switch. Just a little.

“Ahh! Hello!” greeted the man as he set down his suitcase on the steps leading to the apartment. “You must be Virgil!” He stuck out the newly freed hand to shake Virgil’s. Virgil accepted.

“Hey, dude. Yeah, and you must be Roman,” he acknowledged with a smile. “Do you need help with your stuff?”

Roman waved his hand. “Nah, a couple of buddies of mine are coming by later to help me. For now, it’s just me and my suitcase,” he answered, pointing to the suitcase he left by the staircase. Virgil nodded.

“Okay, cool. Well, why don’t you come in, and we can chat.” Virgil wrung his hands slightly as he spoke, his nerves lit up from the social anxiety. He was trying his best to be friendly and not scare this guy off. Fortunately, Roman seemed to do most of the talking for the both of them. Only a couple hours in, the two found themselves seated on the sofa, sipping wine, and getting to know each other. Well, it was mostly Virgil getting to know Roman.

“So, how long have you lived in Cheyenne?” Virgil asked him.

“About three years now! We moved right after I graduated highschool, my parents grew up here, and I decided to go to college here too,” he answered, pointing to the east side of the apartment in the direction of the community college.

Virgil smiled. “That’s nice you all can live in the same area. You get along with your family well, I take it?”

Roman bobbed his head. “Oh yeah. I’m an only child, and it’s safe to say they spoiled me,” he chuckled, and Virgil joined him. Roman shrugged, smiling wryly. “I mean, I’m sure you figured that out considering no sibling should ever feel this confident,” he joked.

Virgil snickered. “Yeah,” he agreed. “Coming from a kid with three older brothers, I know.” He poured some more red wine into both of their glasses. “So, where do you work?” he inquired, ignoring the urge to ask where he makes so much money,

“I work at the bar across the street, Rattlesnake Juice Bar. I’m the manager,” Roman said, bringing the glass up to his lips. Virgil’s eyes widened slightly in surprise.

“Wow, that’s impressive! Normally at twenty-one, employers don't offer management positions at bars,” commented Virgil, sipping his own drink. Roman swallowed his drink and shrugged.

“I guess it was because I had some experience, you know? I’ve been in management since I was seventeen.” Virgil nodded his head with a smile.

“Yeah, that’d do it,” he chuckled. Virgil shifted so he sat on his knees. “So, are you going to do management for a major?” he asked.

Roman shook his head. “No, actually, although it’d probably be a better career plan. Instead, I’m majoring in Journalism with a minor in Creative Writing.” Virgil brought the glass up to his lips, preparing to drink again.

“Oh wow, that’s cool. What do you like to write?”

“Tickle fanfiction.”

Virgil coughed violently, and spit the wine he just had in his mouth onto his shirt. Roman’s eyes widened in panic. “Oh, oh my gosh, are you alright?” he asked, hurriedly grabbing paper towels and handing them to the still sputtering man. Virgil snapped back to reality and finally noticed the spill.

“Oh, for heavens’ sake-“ he muttered, graciously accepting the towels and dabbing at his shirt. Roman furrowed his eyebrows as he helped Virgil clean up.

“Are you alright?” he asked again, his voice laced in genuine concern. Virgil looked up at him for a moment and examined his eyes for any signs of malfeasance. Nothing.

“Um, yeah, I-“ he coughed again, his cheeks turning a light pink. “Yeah, I just, you know, went down the wrong pipe,” he stuttered, gesturing vaguely to his throat. Roman nodded in understanding.

“Yeah, that happens to me all the time. Are you sure you’re good?”

Virgil nodded a bit too earnestly as he got up to go throw away the wine-soaked paper towels. Once safely in the kitchen, he refocused his breathing and tried to calm his beating heart. It was a good thing too, because as soon as he returned, Roman continued the conversation right back up where it had left off.

Virgil barely had time to sit down before Roman began speaking again. “Yeah, so anyways, back to our conversation, I write tickle fanfiction,” he explained with a smile. “It’s super fun. I have quite the following on Tumblr too! Over three hundred followers and they're growing by the minute!” Roman raved. Virgil just started in utter disbelief.

“Oh, well. That’s, uh, cool.”

Roman’s face lit up in excitement. “I take it you know what tickle fanfiction is?” he asked eagerly.

Virgil’s face heated to a thousand degrees. “No! I-I mean, no, not really. I just, I was being supportive. Yeah.” Virgil cringed at how painfully obvious he was being. This guy had to know his slip up. At least he clearly didn’t have to worry about being judged with Roman. But alarmingly, Roman actually appeared to believe him.

“Oh! Well, it’s the coolest thing. Basically-“ he paused for a moment. “Hm, actually, I guess the best way to explain is to start at the very beginning!”

And there Virgil sat, for an entire hour, as he listened to Roman in great explicit detail explain every aspect of the fixation of tickling, the community he was in, and everything he wrote about without a single stutter or slip up. And Virgil listened the whole way through, flinching at the subconscious wiggling of fingers as Roman discussed teases, and thanking whoever the genius inventor of foundation was, for it was the only thing keeping him from blinding his new roommate with the power of his flush as Roman described lees and lers.

Virgil also found out that apparently Roman was a ler. How…interesting.

Finally, mercifully, Roman stopped talking. “Oh goodness,” he laughed. “I’ve been talking for almost an hour, haven’t I!”

Exactly fifty-six minutes, thought Virgil.

“Sorry, I just get really excited and passionate about tickling and writing! Writing is my biggest hobby, and I love it so much. I try to be in touch with all my followers too, you know? I message back to anyone who messages me first, and reply to comments when I can.”

“Um, yeah. Well, I, uh, better throw this shirt in the wash,” Virgil interjected, leaping from the couch and scurrying out of the room.

Roman stared, watching his roommate in confusion, but ultimately shrugged it off and went to go find his new room.

It had been a week since the incident, and frankly, Virgil had not fully recovered yet. He didn’t even know how to begin to process the fact that a proud, confident ler was now living with him. He desperately wanted to know what Roman’s Tumblr account was to see if he could follow him. But discreetly of course, because even though Roman may be secure and confident in his quirk, Virgil was not, and that was just how it was. It would be easy, right? Just ignore him when he talks about it. Virgil was sure Roman was probably used to it.

Later that afternoon, Virgil was sitting at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee, and was intensely scrolling through Tumblr on his phone trying to find Roman’s blog, when the man in question walked into the room.

Virgil all but threw his phone across the room in a panic when he heard the heavy footsteps behind him. He spun around. “Uh, y-yes?” he asked, closing his eyes in an attempt to slow his pounding heart rate. Roman didn’t seem to notice the odd behavior.

“Hey, Virge! So, you’re an English major, right?” He pulled up a chair at the dining room table and sat down. Virgil nodded, happy for the change of conversation.

“Yep. Whatcha need?”

Roman pulled out his phone and scrolled for a bit before handing it over to Virgil. “Do you mind proofreading this for any grammar or spelling errors?”

Virgil nodded and accepted the phone, squinting to try and read the tiny print. This wasn’t uncommon for Virgil. Many of his acquaintances often asked Virgil to proofread their emails and letters to bosses and businesses. It wasn’t until a few seconds of staring until he noticed.

It was a tickle fic. Virgil’s face blossomed into a bright red, as he glanced up at Roman who was sitting stone faced and calm.

“What-” he cleared his throat, “What is this?” he asked, trying to appear nonchalant.

Roman tilted his head. “One of my fics! I’m not the best with grammar, and I was really hoping you could help me edit. You know, as a writing major I really want to get better,” he responded with a smile. Virgil took a shaky breath. No, this was fine. Completely and totally fine. He was just reading a fic in the direct presence of a ler, and then giving him pointers on how to make it better.

“Well, um, you could, maybe, reword this better,” he finally said after a minute.

“What part?”

Virgil pointed to a sentence on the screen. “That one.”

Roman looked at him and giggled. “Virge, do you really think I can see that? Just read it to me, silly.”

Virgil’s face felt like it was on fire. “Oh, um. Okay. So you w-wrote, ‘He laughed, squirming all over the bed, as Chuni followed him, massaging his r-ribs.’ Yeah?” He glanced up at Roman to see him listening intently. Oh, this was hard. “Um, so, to make it flow better you can reword it slightly by changing, changing the order.” He cleared his throat again. “For example, ‘He laughed and squirmed all over the bed and Chuni followed him, m-massaging his ribs.’ Does that, um, make sense?” he clarified.

Roman smiled and nodded. “Yeah, it does! Thanks! Anything else?” Virgil shut his eyes in an attempt to control his breathing.

“Well you, um, spelt t-tormenting wrong,” he grimaced. Roman leaned over.

“Oh did I?” Virgil nodded, propping his head up on his arm in a weak attempt to hide his face. “Can you go over the rest with me?”

Virgil pinched his arm. “Yep, sure thing,” he squeaked.

That was by the longest afternoon of his young adult life. But if he thought that was bad, nothing compared to what happened a month later.

Virgil had still not yet found Roman’s blog, and he kicked himself for not checking to see what the title of the one fic he proofread was so he could search it up later. Regardless, he was still very closeted in his secret fantasy, and somehow managed to keep his cool throughout the many conversations where Roman brought up his ler moods, and writings, and such.

“Virgil!” exclaimed Roman, bursting into the room. Virgil jumped slightly from his seat on the couch, nearly dropping his phone.

“Um, yes?” He turned to see Roman holding a ukulele. “Why do you have a ukulele?”

Roman smiled excitedly. “Well, so you know how I talk about teases, right? How they’re essential to the wreckage of a lee?” Virgil forcefully shoved the embarrassment panic creeping up down his throat. “Well, I thought how cool it’d be, as a new type of tease, to write song parodies of nursery rhymes, but make them tickle related!”

Virgil’s stomach twisted in a pleasant coil as he sat in complete shock. Surely not. “I, uh-“

“You wanna hear some?” he asked, bouncing up and down excitedly on his toes. Virgil continued to ogle as he begged his

voice to work.

“Um, s-sure,” he stuttered out, his voice cracking at the end.

Roman beamed. “Perfect! Okay, so you know the song Tiny Tim, right?”

Virgil coughed. “T-the turtle song?” Roman nodded.

“Yep! But I changed it.” He did a strum of the ukulele before beginning to play the catchy tune. “I have a little feather,” he sang out, his voice ringing out with the chords of the instrument. “His name is Tiny Tim, I used him on my lee, to see if he would grin!” Virgil blanched at the teasing lilt in his voice. “I drank up all his laughter, it made him buck and squeal, and now he’s nice and flustered, his smile oh so real!”

Roman finished the song and looked at Virgil expectantly. Unfortunately, at that moment Virgil’s voice decided to duck out and leave him. Roman giggled at him. “Are you speechless at my talent or something?”

Virgil, horrified, frantically willed the embarrassment away as he finally found his voice. “Oh, no, sorry. Uh, yeah no. It was good. Good,” he took a breath while rubbing the back of his neck. “Job. Yeah,” he finished lamely.

Roman pumped his fists in excitement. “Yessss! I was super proud of it! You wanna hear another one?” Rather than wait for a response, he strummed the ukulele again. “Oh, so this tease requires a specific name for it. Do you mind if I just use yours?”

Virgil swore he was going to have a stroke.

“Oh I know a little lee,” he sang, this time playing a new tune. “His name is Wiggle Virgey,” he paused his singing to look at him. “Adding y’s at the end of names makes it teasy,” he explained.

Virgil said nothing.

“He is so very nice, but oh he is so giggly, and so goes his arms, and his arms go like so, and his arms are always so-oh-oh!”

Yep. Virgil was going to die.

After two more verses, Roman finally finished his song and Virgil was all but willing to sell both his kidneys to disappear from this conversation.

“So, what did you think? That one isn’t my best, but I liked it!” Roman commented nonchalantly.

Virgil simply stared and nodded. Roman furrowed his eyebrows in concern. “Are you feeling alright?”

Virgil blinked. “YeAh, why?” His voice cracked as he tried to speak. He quickly coughed to cover it up.

“I don’t know, you just seem sick or something. You’ve been coughing an awful lot. Your face is like bright red and you’ve been oddly quiet,” said Roman. That only made Virgil blush even more.

“No, yeah, no I’m fine,” he answered, waving him off. “Yeah, but I really gotta go work on, um that thing, for school, see ya around.” And with that, Virgil darted out of the room for the second time, leaving Roman standing alone in utter bewilderment.

Virgil had done his very best to avoid Roman after the whole tease incident, which was difficult considering they lived under the same roof. And even worse considering Roman was the most oblivious guy on the planet.

Virgil was in bed, scrolling through Tumblr on his phone, when he saw another post from his favorite writer, TheLeringPrince. He felt his lee mood spike as he saw it was a new tease post. Eagerly, he tapped the post and began to read. Slowly as he read though, something seemed off. The tease post was various nursery rhymes all modified to fit into the theme of tickling. And Tiny Tim was one of them.

Virgil’s heart began to race and his mind started spinning as he hurriedly tried to calm himself down. “No, Virgil,” he breathed out. “No, it’s just a coincidence. Roman probably stole it from this guy or maybe just thought of the same idea.” Ironically, he found himself wishing his roommate was a thief who stole credit from his favorite Tumblr user’s work, rather than admit that Roman was said favorite Tumblr user.

But right at the bottom of the post, there was a little bold sentence that truly made Virgil’s heart stop.

‘And many of you have been wondering about my sudden improvement in my grammar and spelling. Well, you can thank my brand new roommate for helping me proofread all my new fics and teases!’

What was Virgil’s luck? Of all the people on this planet of seven billion, he gets a roommate who, not only is a confident and charismatic ler who happily reads his teases and fics to Virgil, but is also the specific ler that Virgil had been daydreaming about being destroyed by for years.

Virgil wasn’t sure if he wanted to hug whoever ordained this or punch them.

Virgil contemplated it for a while before finally deciding to tell his anxiety to hit the road, and take this glorious opportunity by the horns. So with a deep breath, he clicked on TheLeringPrince’s profile, then DM’s, then opened his keypad.

Immenslee_Ticklish: Hey, just wanted to say that I really like your stuff, and that you seem like a pretty cool dude. Would you want to chat sometime?’

Immediately, he received a reply.

TheLeringPrince: Why thank you, Immenslee. And yes, I would love to chat ;)

Days went by, and Roman and Virgil were talking through their blogs constantly. Roman had taken to teasing Virgil quite thoroughly on the platform, and Virgil obviously ate it up. Roman even mentioned wanting to meet up sometime. Virgil would be lying if he said he didn't nearly pass out at that.

Of course they still talked in real life, only Roman didn’t know who Virgil was. Oddly enough, Virgil almost felt safer talking to his Tumblr handle rather than to him in real life. He had to laugh at that. Six months ago, Virgil would have fainted at the idea of living with his favorite ler. And now, here he was, finally having something to satiate his ever present, insatiable lee mood! And he was hiding.

He just wasn’t sure how to tell him! Leave his Tumblr open? Text him? Tell him through Tumblr DMs? For goodness’ sake, what was he so afraid of? This guy was clearly accepting and non judgmental about the whole thing. Most people would kill to be in this position. Well, most lees anyways.

Little did Virgil know, but Roman was already pretty suspicious. He didn’t have any evidence of the fact, but he was pretty certain that Virgil had to have some lee in him somewhere. His blush and stutters were getting increasingly obvious and even though Roman could be an idiot, he wasn’t stupid. It took him a while to figure it out, but once he did, there was nothing stopping him. Except of course, if Virgil for some reason just didn’t want to be tickled. That was fine too. But there was something in him that made Roman sincerely doubt that was the case.

Roman had never had a problem about being open with his fixation. He figured that if people were going to judge him based on a silly little liking, then they weren’t worth being in his life. He could understand why some people hid it, sure. It was scary to be so open about something other people found weird. But Roman just never had that fear.

But one day, Roman got a message. It was from a follower named Immenslee_Ticklish. Now Roman recognized this user, as they often commented, liked, and reblogged alot of his works. They were great fans, and apparently very much lee themselves. And all of a sudden, after two whole years of following Roman, they decide to message him.

Interesting.

But Roman ultimately decided to keep quiet about his suspicions because if Virgil wasn’t saying anything, then he didn’t want Roman to know. And Roman respected that. Even if he really wanted to tickle him.

Turns out he didn’t have to wait much longer.

Virgil had practiced it for weeks. He knew exactly what to say, and how he was going to say it. But that all flew out the window as he stared at Roman.

“Virgil, buddy, you’ve been staring at me for three minutes now,” commented Roman, raising an eyebrow at the man in question. “You came to tell me something.” Virgil inhaled deeply and tried to speak, but the words got caught in his throat. Roman gave him a sympathetic look. “Hey, it’s okay. No need to be scared.” Virgil just stared at him. Roman’s heart broke for this kid, who was obviously scared out of his mind. “I promise I’m not going to be upset, or judge you, or do whatever your pretty little head is thinking might happen.

“I’mImenseleeTicklish!” he spat out suddenly. Roman jumped in surprise, but as soon as it hit him, he grinned.

“Oh, are you now?” he hummed, a sly smile watching the flustered boy with great amusement.

“Wait, no, I meant like the username. I’m the user Immenslee_Ticklish. I didn’t mean it like I’m immensely ticklish, well, I might be, but-“

Roman’s amused look caused him to stop talking. “So, yes?”

Virgil nodded. “I’m, uh, I’m a lee. Yeah.” The two of them stared at each other, neither one breaking the deafening silence or the intense eye contact.

“Well that’s very valuable information,” Roman stated calmly, being the first to speak, and before walking away and into the kitchen.

Wait?! Before walking away?!

Virgil’s mouth dropped open as he watched Roman walk off. “Wait!” he called indignantly. Roman paused, smirking away from Virgil.

“Yes?”

Virgil just stared for a minute, waving his arms dramatically as if it would help him speak. “Aren’t you going to, um, do something?”

Roman turned around to face him, as Virgil paled at seeing Roman smile darkly at him. “Like what?”

Realization hit him like a truck, and Virgil gaped in absolute horror. He was going to make him ask, wasn’t he? Oh, this was mean. So, so, so mean.

But at this point the lee mood was so bad that his dignity was going to have to leave him.

“I- were you, um,” he covered his face with his hands. “Were you gonna tickle me?”

He could hear Roman’s evil grin. “Do you want me to?”

“Um, yes. Please.” He swallowed harshly.

Roman clapped. “Why look at those manners!” he praised, gleaming at the whining boy in the living room. “I would love to. But to be clear, what exactly do you want to happen?”

“W-What do you mean?” Virgil asked, peeking from behind his hands.

“Tell me exactly what you want for me to do. In explicit detail, or I won’t do any of it,” cooed Roman.

“You’re so mean,” Virgil whined into his hands again. Roman laughed at his expense.

“I’m waiting~”

Virgil glared at him through his hands. “I want you to wreck me and tease me and destroy my resolve, and I want you to do it now! Please.” He added, lest he be made to repeat his request in a more polite manner. Roman reeled back, a tad surprised at the direct request.

“Well, good for you. I’d be happy to,” he nodded, impressed. “Very well. Meet me in your room in ten minutes~” he teased with a wink.

After he left, Virgil let it sink in. He was about to be ruthlessly teased and broken by his ler idol in ten minutes.

Oh he was going to die.

Virgil’s heart thudded out of his chest as he stared up at the malicious coy smile leaning over him. He had never been so excited yet so terrified in his life. “So, darling,” cooed his captor. “Shall we begin your destruction?” Roman’s voice lowered significantly into a husky tone that sent shivers down Virgil’s spine. He tugged on his restraints, waves of excitement and panic flooding his body, and feeding his lee mood from before. He had waited years. Years and years and years for this day. To be in this position, and about to get wrecked into oblivion. He had no idea what Roman was going to do, but he was excitedly terrified.

Roman took a single finger and began aimlessly swirling around Virgil’s belly, going in zigzag patterns, curlicues, and idle shapes while he rested his head on Virgil’s chest. Virgil’s breath hitched, the gentle touches not quite tickling, but was setting an amazing precedent for what was about to take place. Roman let out a deep breath, purposely aiming it for Virgil’s neck, rewarding him with a satisfying squeal as the man scrunched up his shoulders as much as he could.

“I have a dilemma, Virgil,” sighed Roman melodramatically. “I feel like, since you’ve waited all this time for some expert ler to completely wreck you, destroy you, and undo your very resolve, that you ought to have a good experience, hm?” he commented, glancing up to look at Virgil’s wobbly smile. “I mean you’ve been so patient! It’d feel criminal to deprive you of the best possible experience. Don’t you agree?” He paused, waiting for a reply while still mindlessly twisting his finger on the pale expanse of skin, but all Virgil did was squeak softly in embarrassment.

Suddenly, Roman snapped his fingers, causing Virgil to flinch slightly. “I’ve got it!” he announced, smiling darkly. “Let’s let you choose.”

Virgil’s eyes widened in pure horror. “What?”

“Why choose your own teases, of course! Who better knows exactly how to tease and fluster you, and turn you into a giggling blushy pile of goo then yourself?” Roman enunciated his point with a few teasing pokes to his chest. Virgil squirmed in an attempt to get the pokes to hit his stomach but he had no such luck. “So, Giggles, you want to try it?”

Virgil bit his lip and bounced his legs anxiously. “No!” he whined, his wobbly smile growing by the minute.

Roman grinned. “No? But it’s like a choose your own adventure! You choose your own teases and tools! Won’t that be fun?” Virgil shook his head violently. Roman mock pouted. “But I think it will be fun!”

Virgil made a strangled guttural sound in reply. “I-“

“Yes, dear,” he urged, resting his chin on Virgil’s chest once again.

Virgil sighed and closed his eyes in frustration. “I-I can’t tease,” he mumbled under his breath.

“What was that?”

“I can’t tease!” he repeated, only slightly louder this time. Fortunately, Roman heard him.

“Oh well, that’s not a problem, silly. You aren’t saying the teases. I am!” he replied with a smirk. Virgil peaked one eye open.

“But I thought you said-“

“Oh, I know what I said,” he answered, cutting Virgil off. “No, I already know what teases you chose. You don’t have to say a word.” To Virgil's confusion, he pulled out his phone. It wasn’t until Roman started scrolling and grinning that Virgil’s eyes widened in panicked realization.

“No, no, no, NO!” Virgil called out, bouncing in anticipation. He tried lunging for the phone but his bonds held him back.

Roman pretended not to hear him. “Hm, let’s see. Posts, then notes, then-“ Roman grinned up at Virgil. “Ah yes, reblogged by Immenselee_ticklish! Oh, look there’s a comment too!”

“No! No, don’t read the comment!”

“It says, ‘Ahhhh!! Oh gosh, I’m blushing so hard!!’ Hold up.” Roman turned to look up at Virgil who was fire engine red. He smirked. “Would you look at that. Anyway, it continues to say, ‘I would die if anyone said this to me!’ And then there’s a blushing face.”

He smirked again as he faced Virgil. “So, would you say you’ve died?” Virgil whined longingly. Roman nodded while looking back at his phone. “I’d say yes.”

Roman continued to scroll only for his eyes to light up in delight. “Oh looky here!” Virgil slammed his eyes shut, not daring to.

“No, no, no, no.”

“Virgil look! It’s a gif! Oh wow.”

Oh yeah. Virgil definitely wasn’t going to look. He was strong, he was resilient, and nothing could break him!

“Aww and they’re getting their bellybutton tickled! Isn’t that your most favorite spot in the whole wide world?”

Um, yeah. It was easy, mind over matter. He wouldn’t look. Easy.

“Hey! And it’s your best friend! Mr. Toothbrush!”

Yeah, he... What was he saying?

“Roman, please,” he begged, eyes still clamped shut. The endless teases were killing him. His ever present lee mood had grown into a ravenous monster that he thought would never be satiated. His body screamed for tickles. It was more than a want, or even a craving. It was a need at this point. And Roman knew that and it only fueled his evil ler facade all the more.

“Aw, poor baby. Don’t worry, we’ll start soon,” he cooed.

Roman made Virgil lie there, flustered and helpless, and oh so terribly lee, and wait as he read out tease after tease that Virgil reblogged from his Tumblr, and even read the comments from the lee himself. Virgil wished with every second of every minute spent lying on that bed he had never made that Tumblr account.

After ten or so teases, Roman finally, mercifully, put the phone away. Virgil sighed in relief. Finally! He was going to be tickled to his limits, then past them, then have them pushed even further. He didn’t just want to be broken. He didn’t just want to be destroyed. No, he wanted so much more.

Roman marched up to the table and placed both hands on Virgil’s thighs. “So, a little birdie told me you like baby talk,” he teased. Virgil blushed, which Roman took for a yes. “So would a, oh I don’t know, little kitchy, kitchy, coo would get you all flustered, hm? A little-“ his voice dropped an octave. “Tickle, tickle, tickle~” his face morphed to a maniacal grin.

Virgil's face turned crimson as he wiggled around on the table. “Noho!” He barked out a laugh. Roman raised his eyebrows in surprise.

“No? Hmm. What about nursery rhymes, huh? You sure liked the ones I sang to you earlier this month! Do you want to hear some of those? ‘Cause I got some good ones~” Roman whipped out a feather seemingly out of nowhere and waved it teasingly in front of Virgil’s nose. Virgil yelped at the sensation.

“I have a little feather,” sang out Roman, his voice rising and falling with the feather. “His name is Tiny Tim. I used him on my lee, to see if he would grin.” He winked at Virgil who just blushed deeper. “I drank up all the laughter, it made him buck and squeal, and now he’s nice and flustered,” Another wink. “His smile is so real.”

Virgil was already softly giggling at the song, and it only encouraged Roman to keep going. “You got a little giggle button, right? I have another fun song, just. for. him!” he cheered, punctuating each word with a poke to his bellybutton, making Virgil squeal each time.

He took the feather and ran it in a large teasy circle all around the vast expanse of vulnerable tummy. “Ring around the belly, a button full of jelly,” he heard Virgil snort when the feathers hit a particular spot on his waistline. “-tickle, tickle, they all fall down!” Roman ended the verse with several flicks of the fluffy feather to Virgil’s bellybutton, causing him to buck and laugh, but it was still technically soft tickles. Virgil didn’t want soft tickles right now.

“Rohohoho,” he whined through the giggles. Roman ignored him.

“Let’s see. Oh, here’s another favorite of mine!” He cleared his throat and lifted the feather again. “Oh head, shoulders, knees and toes, knees and toes! Head, shoulders, knees and toes, knees and toes~” He ran the feather all over the respective places, and it didn’t tickle much, but Roman’s plan was working. Virgil was getting more and more flustered, and more and more ticklish.

“Oh feet, tummies, arms and chins, arms and chins. Feet, tummies, arms and chins, arms and chins~” Roman watched in glee as Virgil’s face turned darker and darker with each song, and how even though the tickling was so light, his giggles were still sharp.

All of a sudden, with zero warning, Roman ditched the feather and attacked Virgil’s tummy with all ten fingers. “Oh, she’ll be tickling Virgil senseless when she comes! She’ll be tickling Virgil senseless when she comes-“ Virgil fell into deep belly laughter as he thrashed and pulled desperately. “She’ll be tickling Virgil senseless, she’ll be tickling Virgil senseless, she’ll be tickling Virgil senseless when she comes!”

Virgil had never felt more embarrassed in his life, but that made the tickling so much more fun. After two more verses, Roman stopped. Virgil whined again at the loss of contact.

Roman chuckled. “You really are a hopeless lee, aren’t you?”

Virgil scrunched his nose. “Shut up.”

Roman’s eyebrows raised in an accusatory way. “Do you want to say that again?”

“What? Shut up?” snarked Virgil, trying to wind him up to get wrecked and forced to apologize, but unfortunately, Roman saw right through his plan.

“Wow. You really are desperate. Stooping so low as to provoke me to lash out and wreck you right this minute?” Roman tisked lightly. “Imagine! You honestly think that I’m going to fall for the oldest trick in the book? I hate to break it to you, Stormcloud, but I’m far more experienced than you think I am,” he added, shaking his head in disapproval. “I ought to make you wait longer just for that.”

Virgil gasped and shook his head desperately. “No, no, please no! I’m sorry!”

Roman shook his head again. “Poor little lee. So desperate you’ve lost your dignity. Here you are, begging like this for me to so horribly wreck you until you can’t even remember your own name.” Despite his words of disapproval, he smiled. “Oh course, I don’t blame you. I am very talented so I understand your eagerness. For that reason, I will grant mercy and not punish you for your lousy attempts at brattiness.”

Virgil let out the biggest sigh of relief imaginable. At last! He was going to be wrecked!

“But I still have one more game before we start.”

Virgil threw his head back onto the bed with such a force it almost hurt. “Oh my gosh, Roman please,” he begged, whining at a new frequency.

Roman sighed. “One more! You can do it. I have to make sure your ticklish little body is at optimal sensitivity! So, here’s an easy game to finish you off.” He walked around to the side of the bed. “Just gotta warm you up,” he winked before wiggling his fingers menacingly above Virgil. Virgil asked, and sucked in his stomach, but Roman simply drew in closer. The fingers were so tantalizingly close to the tickle spot, and Virgil swore he felt them already. And in his mind, he pleaded and begged with Roman to hurry up and get on with it already, but on the outside he was completely stunned into silence.

Until Roman did a fake out.

Roman launched his wiggling fingers at Virgil full speed without any sort of warning, and Virgil lost it. He laughed, he snorted, he cackled, and he squealed. He jerked and thrashed all over his limited free space for a whole minute until he realized. Roman’s hands were behind his back, as he watched Virgil with the most evil look you could imagine.

“You're awful!” screeched Virgil, both mortified by his own reaction, and furious at Roman’s trick. Roman laughed out loud.

“Hmm, okay, okay. I’ll wreck you now. Besides, I can’t just keep you here, endlessly teasing and torturing you forever?” He paused with a smirk. “Actually-“

“Roman!” Virgil cried out, laughing in both frustration at his lee mood, and anticipation from what was coming.

Roman laughed at his panic. “I’m just kidding, jeez. You poor lee. Alright, I’ll wreck you, on the one condition you tell me your worst spots.”

Virgil’s eyes turned to saucers. “I-what?”

“You heard me! Give me those death spots or else no tickles~” he sang, thinking the nerves were from his tease.

But strangely, Virgil turned more bashful, rather than flustered. It was almost a sheepish look on his face that replaced the embarrassment. That certainly got Roman’s attention.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, eyebrows furrowing in slight concern. Virgil scrunched his face up and looked down.

“I-I well, I don’t know what my worst spots are,” he replied with a shy smile.

Roman was confused for about two seconds before it dawned on him. “You-“ he stared in utter wonderment. “You‘ve never tickled before, have you?”

Virgil’s face flushed under the attention. “Well, yeah, no not really,” he mumbled sheepishly.

Oh, this was a game changer. Roman beamed. “You mean to tell me, I’m your first time?” Virgil smiled again, and nodded hesitantly. Roman had never been so excited in his life. “Well then, I guess we have work to do!” he commented, a wicked grin and a twinkle shining in his eye.

Roman turned and walked down to the end of the bed, clicking his tongue as he examined the body in front of him. “I suppose the best thing to do would be to either go bottom to top, or top to bottom.” He tilted his head up at Virgil while smiling. “Would you by any chance have a preference?”

Virgil huffed. “I guess, I don’t know. Bottom to top?” he suggested, more or so not caring as he really just wanted to be wrecked already. Roman clapped.

“Perfect! That means I get to play with your cute little feet!” he cheered. Virgil blushed. Roman held tight of the right foot’s ankle and took the same pointer finger and carefully slid it from the tippy top of the toes all the way down to the heel. Virgil immediately started his giggles anew, wiggling his upper body at the light touches. “Oh good! It seems you’re ticklish here! What else can we try?”

Roman soon added the other four fingers into the fray and began ruthlessly scratching up and down and all around the soft tender arches, making Virgil snort and fall into deeper laughter at the feeling. He tickled all around the foot, being very thorough and detailed in his methods, making sure not one inch of ticklish skin was left unscathed. Then, without warning, he moved up to the toes. He wiggled each little toe and scolded them if they curled up. Eventually, he pulled them back and gave them a good scratching underneath as punishment for their misbehavior. Virgil thrashed like nobody’s business, finally getting exactly what he wanted, and it was so much better then he had ever thought. And he certainly didn’t complain when Roman informed him that his other foot was getting left out, and needed the same tickly treatment.

After both feet were thoroughly assaulted (Roman may have had to go back to the right foot again, it seemed to be getting lonely), he spidered his fingers all the way up to Virgil’s knees. Virgil smiled in anticipation, bouncing his leg as he waited.

“Ah yes, the knees. Such an underrated tickle spot! Very few people think about the knees being so terribly ticklish, but they can be! It all starts with this little pressure point, riiiight here.” Roman began rapidly wheezing the muscle right above Virgil knee, making him fall into deep laughter. “Oh wonderful!” shouted Roman above the loud laughter. “It seems as if your knees are just as horridly sensitive as I thought!” His squeezing fingers quickly switched to spidering ones, and darted right on the underneath of his knees, sending Virgil snorting.

Roman awed at the adorable sounds. “Aww, aren’t you just the cutest little thing? Are my tickly, tickly tickles making you giggle, hm?” he cooed, relishing in the deep red color that was Virgil’s face and the tiny snorts mixed in with the hysterical giggles.

“Nohohohoho!” Virgil giggled out, trying to kick his legs but the restraints keeping every inch of ticklish skin in place.

“No?” questioned Roman. “Well, that’s a shame! Why don’t we try something else then,” he pondered and immediately grabbed the young man’s thighs, squeezing sporadically and rapidly every area of muscle. Virgil’s eyes bulged out as he flung himself to sit up right and cackle.

Roman’s eyes lit up with mischief at the extremity of Virgil’s reaction. “Oh, what's this? Does this tickle? Are you ticklish here?” he asked, the teasing lilt in his voice making the ruthless squeezing at his thighs all the worse. Virgil fell back on to the bed to wheeze with laughter when Roman moved up closer to his hips. “Virgil!” scolded Roman. “Hello! I’m talking to you! Does this tickle?” he asked again, not for one second stopping the wretched attack on the loathsomely sensitive muscle.

When Virgil still didn’t reply, Roman felt a spike of worry, and slowed his squeezing fingers just a little. Virgil’s wheezy laughter died down, until it was more or less hysterical giggles.

“Yes!” Virgil called out. Roman was confused for a minute until he remembered the question he had asked a few minutes earlier. He took his hands off his legs, leaving Virgil limp and giggly.

“Oh good! See I guessed it did, but I was just checking,” he winked. “Congratulations, Virgil. I think you might have your first death spot.”

Virgil weakly held up a thumbs up, his giddy smile bright enough to blind someone. Roman smiled at him softly. “How about we take a break?” So he sat next to Virgil on the bed, gently rubbing his shin comfortingly, waiting for Virgil to regain all the breath he’d lost until finally-

“Um, I think I’m ready to go again,” piped up the younger man. Roman grinned.

“You sure?” Virgil nodded eagerly. Roman leaned next to Virgil’s ear, making him squeak. Oh he’d have to remember that.

“Well then,” he purred, his voice sending shivers down Virgil’s spine. “Allow me to continue your destruction.” He peered down the bed where Virgil was stretched out, and examined it carefully like a puzzle. He walked down the side to the right of his hips. “Now if my memory serves me, correct me-” Roman began, but Virgil barked out a laugh. Roman glared at him. “What?”

“Dude, what did you say?” he asked, laughing again. Roman crossed his arms.

“If my memory serves me, correct me. It’s a saying!” Virgil burst out laughing again. “What?!”

“The saying is, ‘If my memory serves me, correctly,’ not correct me,” he teased, still laughing at Roman’s miss interpretation.

“Okay, yeah, laugh it up, Virgil,” he retorted, immediately squeezing his right thigh again. Promptly the teasing man burst into laughter at the feeling, and proceeded to howl on the bed. “Don’t correct me again!” he playfully scolded before ceasing the tickling.

Roman crawled up on the bed in between Virgil legs in hopes of being able to navigate better. “Now, I say we try hips next. Some people overlook it, but they look wonderfully ticklish to me~” he sang, already the tone giving Virgil the giggles. Roman grinned at the pink color once again rising to his cheeks. “Aww, does mentioning the tickly tickles making you a little neeeervous?” he sang again, whilst skimming the skin of his waist and pant line. Virgil’s giggles greatly increased from both the tickling and the teasing alike, as he began wiggling around in the bed.

Roman’s scratching fingers followed the wiggly hips with great ease, smiling in adoration as he listened to the sweet soft giggles come from his captive. “You’re adorable,” he commented without really thinking.

“Nuhnuhnuhuhu uhuhuhuh!” the giggling man protested, yet his denial only further proved Roman’s point.

“Yeah huh!” argued Roman. “Alright enough softness, I want to watch you scream.” He put on his best evil ler face as he watched Virgil turn a bright crimson at the threat.

Roman crawled up further until he was practically sitting on Virgil’s hips. “So, let’s test the waters for what are the vast expanse that is Virgil’s tickle spots, shall we?” Virgil pulled up his legs out of reflex, but they were blocked by Roman’s back. He whined.

“Oh, whatever is the matter, dear?” he cooed, leaning in so close Virgil could feel his breath on his neck and ear. The man made a strangled noise in reply. “I’m sorry, darling, I don’t speak lee. Would you mind rephrasing your statement?”

Virgil just shut his eyes, trying to smother the wobbly grin that was slowly creeping up onto his face. Roman took that as a sign to continue.

He spidered his fingers up to Virgil’s sides, and kept them there, smiling as Virgil shuffled all over the bed in anticipation. “Gohohoho ohohohon, alreheheady!” he giggled out.

“Is that anyway to ask for something?” Roman playfully scolded moments before digging into the boy’s sides. Virgil bucked and burst into giggles, thrashing and pulling. Roman didn’t stop for even a second, mercilessly tickling, squeezing and scratching all over the sides and even migrating to the soft skin of the belly. Virgil was in proper hysterics and was loving every minute of it.

“Aww, aren’t you just the cutest thing! What? What’s the matter? Are you ticklish?” Roman teased, digging into the lower belly. Virgil squealed, and fell into even deeper laughter as Roman took to blowing raspberry after raspberry onto Virgil’s poor ticklish tummy. Virgil was in tickly heaven, for sure, but he still hadn’t been broken yet. And that was fine, but his growing hunger still hadn’t been filled, and he couldn’t help but wish deep down that there was somewhere to truly make him scream. He contemplated asking Roman to go for his thighs again.

But then.

As Roman paused the tickling on his sides and began to feel around, something happened.

Virgil could only possibly describe it as maybe a jolt of euphoric electricity that shocked him into the pit of his stomach. Something that found the roaring lion that was his lee mood and slapped it in the face. Something that sent shivers to his spine and butterflies to his stomach. Something that made him shriek at the mere feeling of Roman’s presence. If Roman’s dastardly laughter upon finding the spot was any indication, Virgil was screwed.

“Well, looky here,” he noted, looking up at Virgil with a gleam in his eye, further confirming the reality that Virgil was about to experience. “It seems we’ve found something.”

Roman tested the spot again: a rib, nestled warmly in between a tiny layer of fat, and the beginning of his armpit. He sharply poked the rib, eliciting a similar shriek as before. Virgil’s eyes grew like saucers as he fought with his own mind on how he felt. Was he terrified? Was the overwhelming amount of ticklish sensations about to course through his body like an electric current terrifying? Or was he excited? That after all these years of begging and pleading for someone to come into his life and do this very thing to him?

Virgil didn’t have time to decide, as Roman promptly dug in.

Virgil said he wanted to scream, and scream he did. His body was too overwhelmed to even thrash at this point, no, it merely fell limp and took every bit of torture Roman was giving to it. Roman took his pointer finger and thumb, making them into a claw motion, and pinching all over the bone. He pinched up and down, left to right, and repeated the sequence, soaking in every plea and beg and cry from Virgil. He wiggled in between the bone, and even took to scratching the armpits as well. Virgil was happily losing his mind. But it wasn’t over.

No, because out of nowhere, Roman pulled from under the bed a bottle of oil, and immediately began pouring it into his hands. Virgil greedily sucked in the oxygen as he waited for Roman to start again. His eyes followed him, watching Roman complete his moves with an eagerness about him. He was ready.

Virgil only had to wait a minute longer before Roman took his sweet time, slowly covering every inch of both armpits in the slippery liquid, purposely sliding his fingers and nails in such a way to make Virgil start to laugh. And then with both hands, he dug in again.

Oh, if he thought it was bad before, no, this was true torture. The oil made the fingers glide pristinely on the sensitive skin, and thereby ticking seemingly everywhere at once. Roman still concentrated on squeezing both top rib bones on either side at the same time, while allowing the nails to scratch along the armpits and other ribs as he did it.

And Virgil screamed. He screamed and screamed louder than he had ever before. He couldn’t even be concerned at the fact they were living in an apartment, and if they neighbors would be worried. Virgil screeched at the top of his lungs, his voice no longer even saying words or please at this point, just pure unshackled ecstasy in waves unmeasurable. He screamed and laughed his voice hoarse, kicking and tugging in desperation to escape the torture he was being subjected to.

“So,” commented Roman nonchalantly, yet very loudly to be heard over the booming laughter. “I was wondering if you could give me a quick performance review. You know, it is my first time and all.”

“AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA-“

“Okay, so that’s not too bad. Anything else?”

Virgil silently screamed as he felt Roman vibrate his fingers into both bones once more.

“Oh good! Well, I appreciate your input, thank you.”

Virgil was loving every solitary second of this, after all, this is what he had wanted. He wanted exactly this. But, unfortunately, he needed to breathe. So he called out.

“YEL-“ he stopped mid screech, his own laughter cutting him off. Roman stopped immediately.

“Was that yellow?” he asked, face contorting with worry. Virgil didn’t answer at first, only focused on taking in as much oxygen as he could get.

“Yeheheah,” he replied, the leftover giggles still dying out.

Roman’s evil ler face melted as a fond one replaced it. “Wow, I’m impressed. That’s definitely your death spot, and you only called out yellow. I could never last as long as you did,” he marveled.

Even with as winded as Virgil was, he was still trying to tease back. “Oho, so you have a death spot, then?” he teased with a smirk. Roman blushed.

“Oh shut up. Just so you know, you still technically haven’t called red yet,” he retorted cockily. Virgil nodded before laying his head down for a minute to rest. “Do you want water?” Roman asked him.

Virgil shook his head. “No, I’m almost done. I’d rather not get up then get back down.” His insatiable lee mood was shrinking drastically. But, there was one more thing he wanted. “So, um,” he looked up at Roman sheepishly. “Can I do a request?”

Roman smiled fondly. “Of course. This is your session after all.”

Virgil fidgeted as much as he could despite his hands being tied. “So, I kind of have a favorite spot. Like, after you tickled me. I realized I might have a favorite.”

Roman’s heart practically burst on the spot. “Oh yeah? Let me hear it.”

Virgil wrinkled his nose in embarrassment, and stayed quiet for a minute. Roman chuckled. “Come on little lee, I can’t help you out if you don’t ask,” he cooed, gently spidering his fingers on the tops of his feet, making him let out a quick giggle at the touch.

“Ohohokay, okay. Um,” he looked away bashfully. “Can you go back to, back to my stomach? You, you can tease. Too. If you want, or whatever,” he added quickly, still refusing to look Roman in the eye. Roman beamed.

“Why, I would love to.”

Roman sat down next to Virgil, and actually undid his cuffs, much to Virgil’s surprise. “Alright, now keep your arms up,” he whispered, sending a pink flush to his cheeks.

“W-what?” he giggled shyly. Roman poked his tummy.

“You heard me. You gotta keep them up aaaaall by yourself.”

Virgil giggled again, and cautiously raised his arms above his head and gripped the headboard. “Okay, I’m ready.”

Roman nodded with a smile and began lightly skittering his fingernails all over Virgil’s quivering tummy. Virgil immediately burst into soft, sweet giggles, the ones he could probably stop if he tried, but definitely didn’t want to, and rocked back and forth onto the bed. Roman kept the fingers teasing his sides gently, then lifted up his shirt slightly and started peppering cute little kisses all over the pale skin. Virgil squealed lightly and giggled slightly harder at the wonderfully maddening feeling, drinking in every bit of feeling he could.

Finally after about ten minutes, Virgil slowly lowered his arms from the headboard and Roman stopped. Overwhelming exhausted overcame him like an ocean and he yawned. “Thank you, Roman. This was the best day of my life.” Roman smiled at the compliment.

“Why I’m so happy it was, Virgil. We will certainly do it again.” He stood up to leave, but Virgil grabbed his arm.

“Stay with me?” he asked, pulling on his arm like a child. Roman chuckled.

“Of course.”

And the two of them napped together, each so peaceful and happy in that they found each other, and waking up wondering if it was all just a dream.

#tickle fic #pineapple anon #pineapple writing #pineapple fics #sanders sides tickling #lee!virgil #ler!roman #ticklish!virgil #sanders sides #virgil sanders #roman sanders #prinxiety #platonic prinxiety

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