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august-anon · 4 years

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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

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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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sugar-petals · 5 years

Text

:: BTS Sucking Your Fingers

○ warnings ⚠️ food & breath play, femdom!reader, spit play

♡ playlist | here for my habits - ängie // heyahe (해야해 ) - one // pour up - dean

↳ 🌷 NOTE › yep. here we are. getting the succ. needless to say: bts’ lips are so damn beautiful. 10/10 would recommend👌

♡ jimin ➝ All it takes is a suggestion from you. He says, “Sounds fun!” And fun it will be. Cheery Jimin turns into a dutiful baby darling who’s ever eager to exercise his lips all over you. Yes, at the flick of a switch. This boy can give you all you want, for how long you want. And how often you want. That includes having a go at your hands. He already knows his favorite thing to do. Sucking at your thumbs. Oh my god. Once he’s getting started? Jimin couldn’t stop even if the mighty heavens collided and came tumbling down.

Apocalypse has nothing on him. His head goes in small bops, he’s blowing spit bubbles, his cheeks go hollow. Talk about smooth suction, I mean, seduction. His mouth is nothing short of hypnotizing. Knowing him, Jimin would also thoroughly enjoy someone else joining. Either watching the show or with your fingers down their throat themselves. I guarantee that’s one hell of an eye- and eargasm with two subs getting busy on both of your hands.

♡ taehyung ➝ Truth be told. Tae is a natural and you don’t even know it yet. But once you instruct him just right, kiss him on the nose, pamper him with little compliments? His innocence will fade soon enough and the champ in him emerges. Oh honey. He’s amazing. Now, this comes with a warning for some serious sensual overload. Because he won’t just suck your fingers. He’ll suck his own hand, too. Unashamed and thorough with big starry eyes.

Two fingers of yours in the left corner of his mouth, and his own index in the other. Thrusting it in and out like it’s no one’s business. And yes, we know his mouth has enough space for that lewd stuff. I’m telling you. There are hundreds, thousands, gazillions of people queueing to get a dose of Tae’s fingers in action, but you are the select one to see this. That’s a feat to treasure. And something more than guaranteed to be a turn-on. It’ll haunt you. If that’s not a sign from above to do it again, I don’t know.

♡ jin ➝ That’s not sucking. That’s fucking. Raw and passionate altogether. But let’s not get ahead of ourselves. How the story begins: Foodie number one and foodie number two just can’t keep their hands off some freshly baked choco cupcakes. The thing is: They’re filled with warm liquid nougat. Eating them gets messy enough that Jin slips right into a sticky-savory situation with an offer he cannot refuse from you. It’s like an itch begging to be scratched. You have chocolate all over your hands. What is he going to do? A cartwheel?

You invite Jin to wrap and exercise those puffy lip pillows plenty around your palms and thumbs. But it’s not like you want it to end when he cleaned it all up. And neither does Jin think the party should be over so soon. Why not introduce some more food, then? From the fridge comes a pack of leftover frosting that didn’t quite make it onto the cupcakes. Legend has it that Jin, stellar he is, ate it all off your fingers and said thank you. The rest is history.

♡ yoongi ➝ You got some long sharp nails? Good. Yoongi is that guy. Whatever Transylvanian fantasy he has going on, he wants to get stabbed. You say, Suga bun, my horny little rascal. You gotta be careful. One finger at a time, and nothing pointy for that matter. We don’t want an ouch factor in there. But alas, reckless kitty keeps on gazing at your hands during the day like it’s the holy grail. So you decide to teach the provocateur a lesson.

At the next occasion in the bedroom, you order him to kneel and keep his lips shut. You trail your fingers around them. The anticipation is palpable in his eyes. But you don’t give in. The denial frustrates Yoongi with pant-bulging consequences. You do allow him to stroke away. While he does, you signal him to open his jaw a little. He smiles because he finally convinced you. Or thinks he did. You return the smile, bend down— and snake your tongue into his mouth for a deep kiss. Well, well. No stabbings in this area tonight.

♡ hoseok ➝ Master of choking himself. No prisoners taken with Jung Hoseok. If you want a lot of action and feel something very sloppy going on around your fingers, this is your man. You’ll look into his glossy eyes and think: Where the hell is that grit coming from. Just how much can he take. Did he make a deal with the fucking devil. But no worries. You can recline without a sorrow in the world, he’s going to do all the work and provide you with unreal gagging noises that even a seasoned porn flick editor would raise their brows at.

It’s all so melodic. There’s no other way but to treat him to a double whammy in return. You feel up his neck and press hard. Sensing what his muscles do to accommodate what your other hand does. You can tell this is going to be nuts. I don’t know if you’ll ever be able to escape that image in your mind and not want more. You’ll definitely text him later. hey hobster. enjoying the weekend? we need to do more sexy things for the time being.

♡ namjoon ➝ It goes on alternating for what feels like half an hour. First, it’s your turn to lick his fingers one by one. Not leaving out even an inch. You couldn’t, even if you tried. Whatever handwash he’s currently using, it smells nice. Maybe chamomile? Probably something like that. Since they’re big hands, you take your time and tease him plenty. Namjoon can’t help but whine throughout. He can’t even look, that would bait him way too fast. Either way; once you’re done teasing, sweet Jesus, it’s Joon’s turn.

One thing’s for sure. It’s a rapper tongue working to the best of its artistic abilities around your fingertips. Featuring one hell of a gag reflex. But Namjoon is no fool. He knows how to use it. Your man is... educated. And very aware that you love the sound of him coughing up ever so slightly, deep voice he has. Your fingers will have their fun circling around his tongue to say hi. By the time you’re satisfied with it, the poor man is gonna be a drooling mess.

♡ jungkook ➝ Finger sucking... is just the very start of things. Your hands will visit some other juicy places during the course of a steamy afternoon. But before they travel, you have some plans about what they’re up to inside of his mouth. That is: Twisting and turning. Slicking in and out. With your favorite latex gloves on. Can’t go without those. Jungkook’s wild and surprisingly nervous tongue is doing its intricate dance for minutes and minutes. He doesn’t tire. All he does is get even more keen, greedy to please.

Maybe his inhibitions drop, maybe your praise fuels him. Or he just keeps getting hornier. Fact is, Jungkook will get the hang of it. At the expense of his clothes because he gets saliva all over himself. But that’s another debate. When you’re drenched up to the wrist, you pull back and have JK look at the chaos he made. You’ll be honest with him there. “Get a feeling you’re insatiable, aren’t you, Kook.” It’s not like he doesn’t know already. Cheeky boy.

#bts smut #bts scenario #bts x reader #bts x you #sub!bts #bts #bangtan #jimin smut #taehyung smut #jin smut #yoongi smut #jhope smut #namjoon smut #jungkook smut #bts scenarios #bts reactions #original content

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mammon-sama · 4 years

Text

Empty Wallets and Empty Stomachs (Fanfiction)

Hiiiii, another AO3 repost from me, mainly ‘cause I’m trying to spread out my stuff on both platforms. This is a short four-chapter story that I’m going to post all in one go (that’s why it’s so long) since I think it’s hard to navigate between different chapters on Tumblr. If you’d like to read this story on AO3, click here. I apologize in advance for the really bad title; I just couldn’t think of anything better at the time.

Title:

Empty Wallets and Empty Stomachs

Summary:

No summary, really. Just chilling with Mammon and Beel and MC and being dumb. Mostly just MC and Mammon go shoppin’ and you cook with Beel. Other shenanigans ensue.

Genre:

Humor/Fluff/Slice of Life

Rating:

Word Count:

6645

Additional Note:

Sorry to take too much of your time up with the super long stores, but again, on AO3, this is formatted and was originally meant to be a four-chapter story! :)

Chapter 1

“ … and that, class, is the true nature of the Twin Paradox. As you can see—” Your professor, a gangly demon with round glasses and a haircut that reminds you vaguely of the Backstreet Boys, is promptly interrupted by the low gong of the school bell, signaling that class is over.

Upon hearing this, you whip out your D.D.D and make your way to the door as your teacher calls, “Don’t forget to read Chapter Seven, Section Nine through Twelve of your Physics IV: Mind Over Matter textbook for class on Wednesday!”

You scroll through the messages on your Chat app, doing your best to keep one eye on your D.D.D and one eye on the sea of demons bustling to get to their next class.

Lucky for you, Physics is your last class of the day. As you make your way to the House of Lamentation, you notice that you have a missed call dating back an hour ago from Mammon.

Feeling it’s too late to call back, you decide to send a text instead.

Mammon MC: You called?

MC: What’s up?

You see an ellipse bubble pop up immediately, indicating that Mammon is typing.

Mammon: MC HOW DARE YOU MISS MY CALL

Mammon: You can miss everyone else’s calls, but not *mine*, got it?

Mammon: I have important things to say, y’know!

You feel a smile grow on your face and shake your head.

MC: Important things? Like what?

Mammon: WELL, it just so happens that I get paid today!

You stare at the message in confusion. Paid? Before you can question his statement, you remember that Mammon frequently did various modeling jobs to make cash. It was supposed to be a way to earn a little spending money and pay off his debts, but unfortunately for his creditors, the latter very rarely happened.

However, you are still unsure as to why Mammon is telling you this. You send a confused-looking sticker.

Mammon, surprisingly, doesn’t respond right away. You close out of the Chat app and begin to put your D.D.D away. As you fumble around for a pocket to put it in, you crash headfirst into someone.

Oh, crap, you think. The demons at R.A.D normally don’t bother you, but that’s because you usually don’t headbutt them accidentally.

“I’m so sorry—” you start, but your apology is cut short as the demon turns around. “Beel! I apologize; I didn’t see you there!”

Beelzebub pivots to face you. “Oh, hi, MC,” he says, greeting you with a melancholy nod.

You cock your head curiously. The sixth-born demon’s face is set into a sorrowful frown, and the five-pound bag of Scummy Bears that he’s holding is only half empty. “Is something wrong?”

He looks down and shakes his head. “Nothing you need to worry about.” Beel looks back at you. “Are you going back to the House of Lamentation?”

You want to ask him some more questions, but at the same time, don’t want to pry. “Yep!”

“Let’s walk together, then.” He flashes you an unconvincing smile as the two of you begin to make your way down the R.A.D halls.

Unsure of what to say, you keep silent, smiling internally as Beel walks slower than his usual long strides so that you can keep up with him. By now, most students have either gone to their dorms or have made it to their last few classes; the only sounds that echo through the hallway are you and Beel’s footsteps.

You keep your silence until the two of you near a trash can in the hall, where Beel dumps what remains of his bag of Scummy Bears into the garbage.

You gasp and your eyes widen. What in the Devildom just happened?

Beel puts a hand over his taut stomach in response to your astonished look. He peers at his feet as he explains, “My stomach feels queasy. I can’t eat right now.”

In the few months that you have known Beel, you can hardly remember a time where he has turned down food, let alone thrown it in the trash. Whatever problem Beel is facing, you wager it has to be serious.

Beel turns away and continues to walk down the corridor. You want to grab his hand and get him to stop, but knowing Beel’s strength, you know that there’s no way that you could physically do that. Instead, you run in front of him and put your hands out, causing him to halt and tilt his head in confusion.

Furrowing your brow, you poke Beel in the chest. “Tell me what’s bothering you, Beel. It’s not good to keep things bottled up.”

Beelzebub still won’t meet your eyes. “I know.” He sighs, as he glances up and notices that you still haven’t left his path. “I’ll tell you later.”

You don’t want to push the soft-spoken demon and step to the side. “I hope you do.”

As before, you and Beel continue to the House of Lamentation in silence. Once you two arrive, Beel heads directly to him and Belphegor's room without his usual stop to the kitchen. You shake your head and make your way over to your own room.

Dumping your backpack onto the floor, you head over to your downy bed, breathing in the floral scent of jasmine and roses. Only Asmodeus uses that scent of detergent, so he must be on laundry duty this week. You mentally thank him for using such a pleasant scent, unlike the strange musk of the sandalwood and papyrus fabric softener that Satan had used two weeks earlier.

Your laundry-related musings are interrupted by rapid, deafening knocking on your door. You hope it is Beel, finally ready to talk about whatever is bothering him, but you know better than that. Beel, for all his muscled glory, has a very quiet, almost timid knock. The only demon in the House of Lamentation that has a knock so boisterous, so cacophonous, so incessant is …

“How come you’re not dressed yet?” Mammon demands, walking straight into your room as soon as you open the door. “Didn’t you get my messages?”

“I haven’t checked my D.D.D in a bit,” you admit, pulling the device out of the pocket of your uniform. You open the Chat app, noticing that you indeed have some message notifications from Mammon.

Mammon Mammon: HUH? How’re you confused by *that*?

Mammon: Getting paid means I’m going shopping! And you’re comin’ with me!

Mammon: Be dressed by the time I get home from *barf* tutoring!

Mammon: Curse Lucifer and Satan for making me go to that crap, by the way.

Mammon: I mean, who *cares* if I have a D- in Statistics?

“I don’t think I can go shopping today, Mammon,” you sigh. Grabbing your backpack from off the ground, you begin to rifle through it until you find your Physics IV textbook. “I have a lot of homework due soon.”

“Homework, shmomework,” Mammon chides, yanking the book from your hands. “There ain’ t nothing wrong with not doing it once in a while.”

You give him a look. No wonder he has a D- in Statistics.

Mammon grabs your hand, leads you off the bed, and pushes you over to the closet. “Tell ya what, if you come with me, I’ll be super generous and buy you anything you want from the store—only something super cheap, though, but still!”

You want to protest, but figure Mammon won’t let this go. Instead, you get dressed into something more casual than your uniform and step out of your closet.

The second-born, who was absentmindedly flipping through your Physics textbook as you changed, immediately sits erect once as you appear. “I swear that I wasn’t going through your things,” he claims. “Much.” He gives your outfit a once-over and two thumbs-up. “I always forget how nice you clean up for a human, MC! You’re officially fashionable enough to stand by my side!”

You blush ever so slightly, but before Mammon can notice, you busy yourself by emptying your backpack of any school-related content. That way, you have an empty bag to carry as you go shopping. “And if I don’t want to stand by your side, Mammon?” you tease.

The demon’s face flushes with a blush even deeper than yours. “O—of course, you want to be by my side! I’m the Great Mammon, don’t you forget that!”

You smile as you take out your last notebook from your bag. “Okay, I’m ready to go shopping with you,” you say, putting your backpack on. “Let’s go.”

“Say it with a little more enthusiasm, will ya?” Mammon complains as he opens the door to let you through.

You shake your head, smile, and decide to tease him some more. “Fine. Let's go!”

“That’s not the part I said to be more enthusiastic about!”

Chapter 2

“Are you serious, Mammon?” Leviathan growls. “I already checked ahead—the Ruri-chan figurine, if you buy it in the Majolish collectibles department, is only four hundred and fifty thousand Grimm. I’m not paying you a cent more.”

Mammon waves his hand nonchalantly. “And if I ain’t mistaken, Levi, ya want this figure today, right?”

Levi grinds his teeth. “Right.”

“Well, then! Ya want me to go buy it for you today, you pay me my two hundred and twenty-five thousand Grimm labor fee!”

“I’m not paying you that much Grimm extra.”

“Then go buy it yourself!”

“I can’t. I have to finish this gaming campaign today. I already put it off long enough, and it’s not my fault that the Ruri-chan neko maid figure releases today, too! It's gonna sell out, fast!”

“Then pay me my damn labor fee!”

“You just made that up, and I already told you—I’m not paying you that much, you ass!”

And on they go.

You’ve been listening to the two brothers argue for the past fifteen minutes. You had thought by now maybe Mammon and you would have gotten a start on his shopping, but no, he had insisted on barging into Levi’s room to see if he could make a little extra Grimm off of his younger brother before the two of you left.

“You’re scum, Mammon, you know that?” Levi growls. He turns to you, pouting. “What about you, MC? Will you buy my precious Ruri-chan figurine for me?”

You sigh. “Give me the money, Levi. If I see the figure, I’ll buy it.”

The third-born demon grins. “Thanks! I knew I could count on you.”

He rummages through the pocket of his coat and begins to count out the right amount of Grimm. Once he has enough bills, he hands the stack to you, but before you can grab it, the money is intercepted by Mammon.

“I’ll hold onto that for you, MC,” Mammon assures, a coy smile lighting his face. “You don’t have any pockets in that sweatshirt.”

You smile sardonically and pull Levi’s money back. You know better than to trust Mammon, the Avatar of Greed with money of all things. Secrets? Maybe. Schemes? Definitely. Being a tsundere idiot? There was no one more capable. But money? You’d be rivaling him in idiocy if you did that.

“It’s fine; I got it,” you promise, sliding the money into the deepest pocket in your backpack.

Levi scowls at Mammon as you two leave. “Please die.”

“Here we are, MC!” Mammon grins, waving his hand for you to take in all the scenery. “The most expensive shopping district in all of the Devildom!”

You look around at your surroundings; it was a horribly gaudy site. There are huge building complexes, studded with stores selling items from the most famous brands in the world. What really brings out the garishness of the location is that every store seems to be covered in gold.

There’s a gilded Ralph Goren shop, a Chanhell showroom that sparkles with a yellow brighter than the sun, and even a Burbury emporium that glitters with a fine flaxen coating.

“Why … why does everything look like this?” you can’t help but ask.

Mammon, who had been staring lovingly at the lurid buildings, looks over at you, pulled out of his reverie. “What? Oh, the gold? It’s just to show how expensive everything is.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, MC,” Mammon explains, suddenly grabbing your hand as he leads you further into the shining abyss. “All this stuff—” He gestures toward all the name-brand stores. “You can find in any of the regular couture shopping districts in the Devildom. However, the stuff sold here specifically—the very same stuff in all the other stores—is more expensive. The buildings are all covered in gold to represent that. It’s great, huh?”

You dig your heels in the ground. “Wait … you mean … you’re only shopping here … because it’s expensive?”

“Duh! Things that cost more make ya look cool.” He yanks your hand harder to get you moving again. “Not that I need help looking cool or anythin.’”

“Of course.”

Wow, you realize. He really lives up to his title of the Avatar of Greed.

“Oh! Look over there! Silver-plated spurs! Let’s go see if they have ‘em in bronze or somethin’—silver kinda clashes with my look, y’know? And holy crap, they’re selling diamond insoles for your slippers in that store! Can’t imagine they’d be comfortable, but still, why wouldn’t you want ‘em?”

Before you know it, you and Mammon are standing in line for the register at Versucky, with the second-born demon holding at least seven or eight different, high-end items, all of which you wonder if he has any use for.

“I know what you’re thinking, MC,” Mammon says, looking at your confused expression. “How much money does the Great Mammon make from modeling if he can afford to buy this much stuff?”

You want to point out that that was not in fact, what you were wondering, but he barrels on ahead.

“Well, a lot, of course, ‘cause y’know, I got all this.” He gestures toward his body sensuously. “But still, even if it’s not enough, I got my beloved Goldie!” Mammon shuffles all his desired items to one hand, and with the other, whips out a shiny black credit card from his pocket.

Your eyes widen. “Didn’t Lucifer confiscate that from you two days ago?”

“Yeah,” Mammon admits. “But I found it. He left it in one of the oysters in Levi’s aquarium—don’t ask how I figured it out.”

You shake your head and can’t help but smile at his rebelliousness. You wonder how Lucifer is going to punish Mammon for his craftiness this time.

As you and he reach the front of the line, Mammon suddenly drops everything he’s holding. “Oh, crap.”

You reach to pick up all the items that had tumbled to the ground. “What?”

“Well … “ Mammon scratches the back of his neck, a slight blush coming over his tan skin. “I just realized that I promised I’d buy ya somethin’ if you came with me, and heh, here you are.”

“It’s okay, Mammon; you don't need to get me anything,” you reassure him. You hadn’t really expected him to keep his end of the bargain, and honestly, you didn’t really care. You hadn’t actually needed anything from the store, and in fact, the only reason you had tagged along was, well, for the company … and the fact that Mammon wouldn’t have shut up if you hadn’t.

“No, it’s not,” he says. He grabs your wrist and leads you out of Versucky. “I said I’d buy ya somethin’ and that’s what I’m gonna do. Here, we’ll buy whatever you want first, so then I’ll know how much Grimm I have left to spend.”

“But you don’t have to worry about how much money you can spend,” you remind him. “You have Goldie.”

Mammon’s blush deepens. “W—well, yeah, I know!” He looks down, grinding his heel into the ground. “But I just remembered that Lucifer put a control lock on her that notifies him every time she’s being used, and then he’ll know I took her back.” His head whips up immediately. “And just so y’know, it ain’t like I’m afraid of him, or anythin;’ I just figured not using her would be the smarter thing to do, that’s all!”

You smile at his display. “If you say so.”

“Wh—what! Ya don’t believe me?”

“No, no, of course, I do.”

“You—you better!” He coughs and tries to regain his composure. “Now, where do you wanna go? Unless ya wanted to shop at Versucky, ‘cause I guess we could go back in there.”

“I’m not really sure,” you admit. Even in the human world, you weren’t very familiar with couture brands, and you’re even more lost in the Devildom. Your eyes scan the apparently endless miles of gilded shops until you spot a strange blip of steel gray in the sea of gold. “What’s that?”

Mammon squints in the direction you point. “Never seen that store before in my life. Kinda gross, though. The whole ashy color scheme really clashes with the rest of the buildings here.”

To be honest, you find the dull color of the edifice somewhat soothing compared to the sheer gaudiness of its surroundings. You begin to make your way over to it, Mammon in tow.

“Thrifty’s Cheap Finds,” Mammon reads as you near the building. He dry heaves. “Cheap finds? What is this? Some kind of lame way to attract broke-ass degenerates like …” He trails off when he sees your raised eyebrow and blushes. “I wasn’t gonna end that sentence with ‘you,’ I swear! Calm down!”

You shake your head and don’t respond as you enter the store. As you begin to wander around the shop, not even Mammon can keep his jaw from falling open in wonder. Inside Thrifty’s Cheap Finds is everything from hairspray to mattresses to books to cookie sheets—all of them branded with human company labels.

“No wonder everything here is so cheap,” Mammon realizes. “No one in the Devildom wants human stuff. Well, unless you’re Satan and Lucifer and like all that antique crap.”

You resist the desire to glare at him and instead pore through everything in the shop, your eyes never failing to examine each item. It’s been months since you’ve been home and seen any of these types of knickknacks.

A wave of homesickness washes over you as you finger a timeless gingham tablecloth, as Mammon ambles off to the electronics section, which is filled with ancient-looking cellphones and computers.

You swallow the feeling away before it can cause a lump in your throat and tears in your eyes. You wander farther down, realizing that all the mismatched pots and pans mean that this is the cooking aisle.

You pause in the section of this aisle that displays cookbooks and remember the miserable look on Beelzebub’s face earlier today. Perhaps, you wonder, there is something in here that would cheer him up.

The cookbooks are all in disarray, and you shuffle through the many stacks of them several times before you find a book that you think Beel would like. You flip through the cookbook and nod in approval; the pictures are large and detailed and the human recipes are quick, simple and hearty—perfect for the always hungry Avatar of Gluttony.

You flip the book over and read the price tag. “Nine thousand Grimm.”

You worry that that’s too much, especially since you remember Satan once mentioning that books from the human world usually weren’t economical. You haven’t really gotten the idea of how much a single Grimm is worth yet, and you keep hearing Mammon’s voice in your head, insisting that whatever you buy today be cheap.

“Hey, what’cha got there, MC?” Mammon asks, materializing as if on cue. “This what you want?” He grabs the book from your hands and gives it a mildly disgusted look. “A cookbook?”

“It’s for Beel,” you say, defensively.

Mammon raises an eyebrow. “The only demon ya should be buying stuff for is me, but I’ll let it slide this time.” He too flips the book over. You grimace nervously as his eyes widen when he sees the price.

“I’ll put it back if it’s too expens—” you begin, pulling it away.

Mammon blushes. “Ar—are you kidding, MC? When I said to buy something cheap earlier, I didn’t actually mean it! Hell, I’m willing to splurge on ya if you really want somethin!’ You didn’t actually have to go find something this dirt-cheap!”

Huh, so nine thousand Grimm is considered inexpensive, you note. You smile at Mammon’s uncharacteristic generosity. “It’s okay, I really do want this.”

He runs a hand through his hair and tries to regain his composure, but to no avail. “Y—you sure? I mean—if ya wanna get somethin’ from Ralph Goren or somethin,’ I’m cool with that!”

You hold the cookbook to your chest and nod. “I’m sure.” You grab his hand and lead him to the register.

As Mammon pays the nine thousand Grimm to the lanky demon clerk, he shakes his head and looks at you. “You really are something else, y’know that, MC?”

Chapter 3

As soon as you and Mammon return home, you walk over to Leviathan’s room and knock on his door. Hung on your wrist is a bag from a store called, Look At Me, I’m a Stupid Otaku (or at least, that’s what Mammon had told you the building sign had said. You don’t know how to read Japanese.), which held a Ruri-chan figurine. “Levi? It’s me, MC.”

“Come in,” the third-born demon calls.

You open the door, only to see Levi slouched over on his computer. You take the figurine out of the bag. “Where do you want this?”

“Oh, is that my darling Ruri-chan?” he asks, his eyes never leaving the screen. “You can bring it here. Sorry, I’d come over and get it myself, but there are only two minutes left on this boss stage, and he still has half of his HP left.”

You bring the figure to his desk and leave it next to what looks like a box of granola bars. “Super high-energy chocolate-covered cricket snacks,” you read. “Now with extra protein.” You blanch because despite living in the Devildom for a while, you still have yet to become accustomed to the food.

“Yeah, sometimes when I’m really in the gaming zone, I don’t leave my room for days, not even to get meals and stuff lololol, so I keep those here if I get hungry.”

“Can I have one?” You are planning to check in on Beel after making this stop to Levi’s room, and realize that it would be better to show up with food.

His eyes glued to his computer, Levi nods. “Go for it.”

As you reach into the box to take one, Levi suddenly turns toward you, even though you can see the timer counting down on his game. “Better take the whole box. Beel’s not gonna be satisfied with just one.” He sighs. “Everyone’s been kinda worried about him, you know? He’s been down all day, but he’s not saying anything to anyone, not even Belphie.” He perks up. “But! If there is someone who can make him feel better, it’s you, MC!”

You smile at his worry for his brother. “Thanks, Leviathan.” You stuff the box into your backpack.

He nods, before turning back to his game, frowning when he realizes that the onscreen timer read 00:00 and he hadn’t been able to finish off the boss. “He’s in the gym.”

“Of course,” you say, as you leave his room.

Just as Levi had said, you find Beel in the House of Lamentation’s fully-equipped gym.

The sixth-born demon is sitting cross-legged in front of an elliptical, a towel slung across his shoulders. Unsurprisingly, his twin—Belphegor—is with him, napping with his head resting on Beel’s lap.

Beel frowns nervously when he sees you. “Oh, hi, MC.” He sighs. “ I guess you’re not here to tell Belphie how cute he looks sleeping like this. ”

You cock your head curiously. “I can if you want me to.”

Beel shakes his head. “I was just checking to see if he's awake.”

“Ah,” you realize, sitting down next to him. “Is there something that you don’t want Belphie to hear?”

Beel nods but doesn’t say anything more. Instead, he fiddles with the hem of his rather tight-fitting tank top. You try not to stare at the bulging silhouette of his abs that show through. “It’s funny,” he begins. “When either of us is upset, I get less hungry, but Belphie becomes more sleepy.”

You remember learning of the twins’ connection a few days earlier. The two had a bond so strong that they sometimes shared each other’s feelings, and if one had an extreme emotion, the other would often experience it, too. You put a hand on his arm. “What are you so upset about, Beel?”

He groans. “It’s nothing, really.”

You decide to try a different tactic. “You’re worrying your brothers,” you admit gently.

“I know.” Beel takes a deep breath. Twisting around, he pulls out his navy backpack from behind the elliptical. After rummaging through it for a moment, he pulls out a telltale Physics IV: Mind Over Matter textbook. He flips to the end of the book and releases a packet of paper, which he hands to you.

You examine it for a moment, surprised to see in obnoxious red ink, the phrase F - sprawled across the front. Maybe stick to lifting weights, meathead is written underneath it. Although the words cause your blood to boil, you swallow your anger and calmly move your hand up to Beel’s shoulder. “You’re upset because you did bad on a test?”

Beel slouches, his back sliding down one of the supports of the elliptical. He continues to fiddle with his shirt and doesn’t meet your eyes. “It’s not just that,” he confesses. “If I fail another one, my professor is going to make me repeat the subject.” He sighs. “Belphie’s always helped me study in Physics; we almost always have the same class schedule—except I take Weights and he takes regular P.E—and he always made sure I knew the material.”

“But Belphie doesn’t go to R.A.D this year,” you realize. “He’s supposed to be enrolled in a human school for the exchange program.”

“Yeah,” Beel sighs. “I can’t ask him to learn the information at home with me—I know he would if I asked—he’s already been through so much this year.” He gulps. “Lucifer is going to be so mad when he finds out I’m failing.”

“Why can’t you just get a tutor, like Mammon does?”

“You see how everyone makes fun of him because of that.”

You want to point out that Mammon usually brought the teasing upon himself and justified it with his unrelenting moronness, but an idea strikes you instead. “Hey, I 'm in Physics IV, too. Why don’t we study together?”

Beel’s face lights up. “Really, MC? You’d do that?”

You laugh as you hear his stomach growl in excitement. “Of course!” You remember the cricket snacks you took from Levi’s room and begin to take the box out of your backpack. You see the cookbook you bought for him and take that out, too. “You’re hungry, now?”

He grins sheepishly. “Yes, I’m famished!”

“Look here, I brought you snacks,” you say, handing the box to him. “Thank Levi next time you see him.”

Beel immediately rips open a package and begins to eat. “Hi wroh.” He swallows, and repeats, “I will. Thanks to you, too.” He looks at the cookbook in your hand curiously. “What’s that?”

You place the book in his lap, balancing it precariously on Belphegor’s head. “It’s a cookbook from the human world. I bet it has all kinds of recipes for foods you haven’t tried before.”

Beel grabs another cricket snack as his eyes widen. “I haven’t eaten many human foods before. Let’s look at it together.”

You nod, opening the book and flipping the page as Beel munches.

“Haha,” he laughs. “Angel Food Cake. Maybe we should make some for Simeon and Luke.”

You smile and turn to the following page. The next recipe is for Devil’s Food Cake. “Or maybe you can make this one for dessert someday. Or this one—look—Deviled Eggs.”

“Those look good.” Opening another snack, Beel suggests, “Hey, MC, I’m on dinner duty tomorrow. Want to help me cook some of these foods? Or maybe, I can cook and you can help me study?”

“That sounds like a good idea, Beel,” you muse. “What do you think we should make, then?”

“Well, Satan won’t eat animals, Leviathan refuses to eat seafood, and Belphie—” He pats his brother on the head. “—doesn’t like to eat beef or veal. If we use any of those, we probably have to substitute the meat with other things.”

You and Beel pore through the cookbook for several hours, finally deciding on Deviled Eggs as appetizers, Garlic Parmesan Risotto and Savory Mashed Potatoes for the main course, and Black Forest Cake for dessert.

“This will be fun,” Beel promised, yawning. “I’ll pick up the ingredients after school tomorrow.”

You curse the contagiousness of yawns as you yawn, too, feeling your eyes grow heavy. You can feel Beel’s head rest on your shoulder as he begins to snore lightly. Without thinking, you lean your head to the right, feeling Beel’s under you. You promise yourself that you won’t fall asleep as you close your eyes and mutter, “Sounds … like a … plan.”

Chapter 4

“I’m gonna kill him,” Mammon whispers, his voice low and colder than ice as you, him, and Beel huddle over your D.D.D. “I’m really gonna kill him.”

Beel frowns at his elder brother. “Why are you so upset? You’re not even in the picture.”

“Yeah, if anyone should be mad, it’s me, Beel, or Belphie,” you comment, zooming in on the photo, which had been taken yesterday.

It was from when you and Beel had fallen asleep together as you two pored over the cookbook you had bought for him. Strangely enough, Asmodeus—who had both taken and posted the photo—was in the picture, as well; he was posing as if he had been napping sweetly on your shoulder the whole time. To everyone’s surprise, the only one “awake” in the photo appeared to be Belphie, who had wriggled his way from lying in Beel’s lap to having his legs rest on his brother while his torso and head were sprawled all over your lap. He was too deeply engrossed in reading Beel’s new cookbook to notice his brother taking the picture. Asmodeus captioned the photo, Just getting a bit of beauty sleep with my babes 😘.

“Yes, you should!” Mammon says. “ Why aren’t you, by the way? This photo is a total invasion of your privacy!” He whirls toward Beel, his eyebrows downturned in anger. “And what’s the big idea, Beel? Sleepin’ on MC’s shoulder like that?” He puts a hand on your head patronizingly. “You shouldn’t touch anyone like that without their permission!”

Beel smiles. “Well, I think MC looks cute in this photo! And it’s not my fault that we fell asleep like that.”

Mammon rolls his eyes. “Well, I’m still gonna kill Asmo for postin’ it.” He taps on your Devilgram feed to unlike the photo. “Anyway, why’d ya call me here?” he asks, gesturing toward the Hall of Lamentation’s kitchen.

“No one called you here,” you remind him, taking a seat at the kitchen table. You reach down, grab your backpack and pull out the cookbook you had bought for Beel, as well as your copy of Physics IV: Mind Over Matter.

“Yeah,” Beel agrees, his mouth downturned in a frown. “You just heard that MC was going to be in the kitchen helping me cook and decided to come along.”

Blushing, Mammon takes a seat next to you. “Maybe I just wanted to help ya cook, Beel.”

“No way.” Beel sticks out his arms, barring him from entering the kitchen. “You’re not helping me cook. If you cook, I won’t eat it.”

“Okay, okay, fine, jeez.”

As you flip through the cookbook to find the recipes that you and Beel had decided to make yesterday, Mammon grabs your Physics textbook, whipping through it boredly. “Why’d ya bring your textbook to the kitchen? You having trouble in Physics and want to study here or somethin’? ‘Cause if you are, never fear—The Mammon is here!”

You look at Beel—who glances at you nervously—from the corner of your eyes. You yank the textbook away from Mammon. “You’re not even taking Physics.”

“Yeah, I’m taking Chemistry, and have a C in it, so I’m still passing—so what?”

“How are you supposed to teach me Physics when you’re not even in it?”

“MC! Don’t doubt the Great Mammon’s abilities!”

“Oh yeah? Does the Great Mammon know the formula for … angular acceleration?”

“The change in angular speed divided by the change in time,” Beel pipes up, as he hovers over the stove, checking for the water to boil for his Deviled Eggs.

Mammon laughs and waves his hand at his brother. “Don’t be ridiculous, Beel.” He turns to you. “C’mon, MC, don’t mess around with me. I know ‘angular acceleration’ isn’t even a real word.”

You turn to the glossary in the back of your book and point to the term with the formula next to it, which Beel had recited. “Seems like the Great Mammon’s abilities have failed him.” You watch Mammon blush furiously and smile. “And besides, Beel and I are having a Physics study session, since we’re both in the class.”

“And we’re not getting much studying done with you here,” Beel quips. He retrieves four dozen eggs from the refrigerator and begins to carefully drop them into the boiling water on the stove with a ladle.

You do a double-take and glance at the cookbook. “Beel, the serving information here says that to serve eight people you only need sixteen eggs, at the most.”

Mammon and Beel shake their heads.

“If my brothers are going to get a chance to eat anything, we’re going to have to make this many,” Beel decides. He hoists up a giant pot of potatoes that had been already boiling on the stove and plops it in front of Mammon, handing him a potato masher. “Mash these.”

“I thought you said you didn’t want me to cook anything,” Mammon whines.

“Yes, because whatever you make tastes gross. Mashing the potatoes isn’t cooking anything, so you can do just that.”

Mammon grumbles something that sounds curse word-y, but stands up and begins to work the masher into the potatoes. “Just for that, I’m making ‘em creamy. No lumps.” He whispers to you, “Beel loves lumpy potatoes.”

“Fine, Belphie will like it smooth, anyway,” Beel assures. He walks over to the refrigerator and yanks out an entire wheel of parmesan cheese. He sets it in front of you and hands you a cheese grater. “Can you shred this cheese, MC? I’m about to start getting the arborio rice for the risotto ready and the whole process is going to take a while.”

Your eyes widen. He wants me to grate the entire wheel of parmesan. “Sure, but what about our … you know, study session?” You had promised to help Beel with Physics, and you were by no means going to forget about it.

“Ask me questions as we go? Sorry, I didn’t realize how much there was to do,” he says sheepishly.

You nod, laying your Physics textbook flat open to Chapter Seven, which was your assigned reading for your next class.

You cut off a block of cheese and begin to run it against the serrated surface of the cheese grater for several hours, asking Beel problem after problem from the book. He stumbles on quite a few of them, but you correct him only if you know how to—after all, you yourself aren't a master in Physics. The ones you don’t are questions that you skip, mentally circling them to come back to later.

Every so often, Beel grabs a scoop of the mound of grated parmesan that you have shredded and adds it to his pot of risotto. Surprisingly, Mammon also throws several handfuls of cheese into his potatoes, as he mashes them until they are so smooth that you were sure that not even an ant would be able to find the tiniest lump.

Beel doesn’t notice that Mammon adds the rest of the ingredients in the recipe to the potatoes—copious amounts of cream, whole stalks of herbs, salt, and more butter than you have ever seen in your life, and stirs them together.

“Beel says he won’t eat anythin’ I make ‘cause he’ll hate it,” Mammon explains to you when you stare at him for disobeying his brother’s explicit orders of doing nothing but mashing the potatoes. He smirks. “But wait ‘till he gets a load of these. They’re gonna be great.”

You roll your eyes at the mischievous demon, wondering how his little fling with deviancy is going to bite him this time.

“Okay, time to assemble the cake,” Beel announces, plopping all forty-eight freshly-piped Deviled Eggs onto the table, along with a steaming casserole filled with Garlic Parmesan Risotto. “MC, can you sprinkle the rest of the cheese on top?”

As you begin to do just that, he brings over three round German chocolate cakes, a bowl of whipped cream, and a dish filled with cherries macerated in sugar. One of the three cakes is already topped with a layer of cream and cherries.

“I hate cherries,” Mammon grumbles.

As if on cue, Asmodeus walks by. “That’s why you’ve never popped one.”

You stifle your laughter as Mammon’s face turns a very unbecoming shade of red. “Asmo!” He sprints after his brother, leaving you and Beel alone in the kitchen. “I was already gonna kill you once, but now I’m gonna kill you twice! C’mere, you bastard!”

You turn towards Beel, who is putting the third layer of cake onto the growing tower and covering it with whipped cream.

Putting his spatula down, Beel looks at you. “MC, thanks so much for helping me today—with the food, with the studying, with everything.” He looks down. “I don’t know what I would’ve done without you.”

You smile at him. “It’s no problem, Beel!”

“No, really,” Beel insists, staring into your eyes with an intensity that sends shivers all the way down to your toes and causes you to flush pink. “I feel so much more confident now in Physics. I think if I took a quiz today, I’d at least know enough to pass.”

“I’m just glad I could help,” you say honestly.

Beel grins and carefully lifts the Black Forest Cake by its base and puts it on a cake pedestal. “It’s time to put all this food in the dining room,” he says. He then notices Mammon’s mashed potatoes. He frowns as he sees the green herb fragments, signifying that his brother had done something other to the potatoes than simply mash them as he had told him to. He dips a spoon into the pot and tastes them. Beel’s face becomes a blazing inferno. “I’m going to eat him.”

“What?” you ask, noticing the sudden shift in his mood.

“Sugar.”

“Sugar?”

“He put … sugar … in the Savory Mashed Potatoes.”

THE END

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me mammon #obey me shall we date mammon #obey me shall we date beel #obey me beelzebub #obey me shall we date beelzebub #obey me beel #fluff #humor #brothers #fanfiction #fanfic #adverbslut_writes

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inthesoil · 6 years

Text

"Devil In Disguise" is a terrifying and immaculate introduction to 7981 Kal and the Boston streets

Every once in a while, music comes out that is so real that it shakes us out of the comfort of entertainment. As Ice Cube nicely explained—"gangster rap" is a reflection of their reality, the streets, America. With each new generation it (the music, and no doubt the reality, too) seems to get harder and more brazen. “Gangster rap” moves along with the evolution of music and the world, and this is all to set up the opinion that this stuff here is the new frontier.

7981 Kal reveals himself to be a big dog in the streets, but not by way of trendy flows, cute threats, or dancy melodies, which often blur the authenticity of the words. He soberly and firmly tells his actions, intentions, and lifestyle. He is serious about who he is and who you should know him to be, and this put into music is enough to send shivers through you. It’s a little too far real to be entertaining, and rather is a shut-up-and-listen ride into a mind you didn’t want to ACTUALLY ride along into. I wanted dancy shooting music, not shooter shooting music?! So, if you’re curious about the world of modern Boston streets, you should listen.

As I’ve described, one of 7981 Kal’s specialties is being perfectly clear about himself, and when someone can do this and you feel it is real, that is a special artist. On this tape, he paints the picture of the streets around him, with him on top, fearless, standing on top of his résumé. He doesn’t hold back with the darkness. It’s in every beat, in his brash tone of voice, the choruses, and the words he speaks. Yet under his unwavering confidence, there is a deeper reflection of a cheated world, a victimhood—the ground that America rests on. In every glimpse of (relative) vulnerability throughout his lyrics you are able to feel sympathy for the man.

My momma said she wish I chose a different route

You told me be successful so I'm grinding tryna make it out

Now go ahead and tell me what you mad about

Anything you ask me for I got you what you sad about?

In this moment you glimpse Kal as a boy who stood up and did everything he could to take control of his situation, an alpha that took the streets and strangled them—an exemplary product of his environment. There’s a certain type of rap that stops you, stops America, in its tracks and makes you ask- holy shit, is this who we are, for real? I think, in today’s moment, this is that rap.

https://soundcloud.com/user-663497875/sets/devil-in-disguise

After thoughts:

I should note that within the first 24 hours of this tape dropping the project had accumulated hundreds of likes, thousands of listens (on each song), and a whole lot of reposts. 7981 Kal is hot out here, and is coming up. Make sure not to forget his name when you think about the 617.

Also, Illy Dee and G Fredo immaculately compliment Kal. Fredo has his own great music too (I haven't found Illy Dee's), listen to his incredible new song "Kenzo Story".

#7981 kal #talking #g fredo #illy dee #hamma thang #dorchester #boston #boston rap #boston hip hop #inthesoil #inthesoilmusic

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clexaweekofficial · 6 years

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Hi, do you have any advice for writing fic? I feel like my Clexa fics hardly get any hits, let alone comments and kudos. There are some fics out there who amass over a hundred thousand views but I can't even seem to get past a thousand... :\

Hey there, first of all sorry for the long wait (like three weeks lol), but I decided to make a poll for this, and then I added in a bunch of stuff I was curious about!

Don’t be too hard on yourself. The fandom is not as active as it once was because our ship was technically killed off. People aren’t reading fic as much as they once were, but we are still very active! And tbh, it is actually incredibly impressive how active our fandom still is, considering! We are still making new content every day, we raise a ton of money for charity, we win polls, have awesome funkos, we have a Clexa comic going and a Clexacon, we still have great participation in Clexaweek, and much more, it’s amazing! And there are still plenty of ride or die Clexa fans (such as myself) who will always be active within the fandom, reading and writing fic, sharing art, crying at home in the darkness of their closet where they keep a Lexa-shaped watermelon head with candles around it- cough, what, I mean, calmly buying Clexa merch and yeah, etc!

Firstly, keep in mind that it can be hard to get your fic known and out there. If you don’t have a tumblr, for instance, the only way people will see the fic is if they specifically search out the recently updated filter on the Clarke/Lexa tag (I’m assuming ao3; ao3 is most popular so if you used ff.net that might explain some things too), or for it to pop up on an ao3 Clexa feed on tumblr. If you do have a tumblr, if you don’t have many followers, it can still make it difficult. A blogger who is relatively unknown might post a link to their fic and get somewhere between 5-50 notes on it (it doesn’t help that so many people like a post instead of reblogging it, which isn’t sharing it so it therefore isn’t being seen). A popular blogger, however, could post a link to their fic and rack up 100+ notes just in the first day of posting! So if you don’t have a presence in the fandom, that can make it a little harder. Not impossible at all though, just a little harder to get it out there. You are relying on word of mouth, really- you’re hoping people search the tag, see the fic, like it, share it and rec it, and if you are one of the very blessed ones, an artist might love your fic and make some fanart for it, which will in turn bring more views to you. If you have a one-shot, you basically have the short time frame of it being in the recently updated section of the tag; if it has multiple chapters, it will be there more often. If it is well-written and liked, the kudos, comments, and bookmarks will add up and get you on pages searched when people filter the Clarke/Lexa tag via kudos/hits descending, etc. But honestly, you are writing this fic for you, so just have fun and don’t worry about it getting popular. You are writing this for free, for enjoyment first and foremost. Write it and enjoy it, the rest comes later.

Secondly, remember that fandom is notoriously bad at being rather entitled at times. All fandoms are like this! That’s why the effort to reaction ratio is so low, you may get 1000 hits on a fic but only 10 kudos because people are too damn lazy to hit a button. People will read a fanfic and demand an update without even bothering to leave a comment about what they enjoyed. People will repost art without crediting the artist. Stuff like that.

Thirdly, I don’t know what fics you have made, but maybe you have some errors. People prefer well-written fics, with correct formatting and spelling and grammar. Some people prefer one point of view to another, a type of au to another, etc. And with this in mind, here’s some results from the poll I did!

In regard to point of view, 73.4% of 1,458 people said that they prefer third person POV fics. Only 17.1% said first person and 9.5% said second person. For least preferred POV it was pretty even- 44.6% said they disliked first person POV and 44.3% said they disliked second person POV.

Regarding what annoys fic readers most, out of 1,486 responses, 81.8% hated paragraphs not being spaced out. It’s no fun reading a giant block of text. Remember to start a new paragraph when a new person speaks, since that’s usually one of the biggest mistakes I see within fic. People also hate unrealistic sex scenes, spelling errors,, improperly labeled/tagged fics, OOC, etc.

Regarding fic readers’ favorite things, out of 1,465 responses, the majority prefers happy endings (pretty obvious), fluff, soft Clexa, and smut.

Favorite au type is definitely modern aus, followed by friends to lovers, then enemies to lovers.

People seem to prefer when Finn and Costia are good (not villainized) but are not in the fics.

Then there are plenty of questions I added out of curiosity, so you can take from them what you will. For example, 92.4% of people prefer Woods for a surname for Lexa, compared to only 7.1% who aren’t bothered and will take anything.

Now, these are just some examples, I had 1,4500 responses to this survey in a relatively short amount of time. It was pretty fun to be honest, and though I found most of it to go as I expected, there were some surprises too- for instance, I figured most of Clexakru imagined Clarke to be a Slytherin, but out of 1,452 responses, 37.8% voted her Gryffindor compared to only 19.1% for Slytherin. That was neat to learn.

Anyways, so to sum it up, you know a few things off the bat that the majority of readers like when they read fics- third person, make sure your paragraphs are broken up, your spelling and formatting is all good, etc. But also, take all of this with a grain of salt. There are always plenty of exceptions. Like, most people prefer Woods for Lexa’s last name (myself included!) but there’s a fantastic Politics au which I would argue is one of the best Clexa fics out there, and Lexa’s last name is Ward. No one cares because the fic is awesome. And there are some great second-person POV fics out there too, and plenty of popular fics written by people who do not have a tumblr, etc. These are just guidelines that tell you what some people in Clexakru like in general, feel free to take from it or ignore it entirely, as long as you enjoy what you are doing, then you are doing it right.

Just write what you love, and write it for you and for Clexa. The rest will hopefully just fall into place. I hope this helped!

Here’s a link to the survey responses!

#Clexa #Clexakru #Clarke/Lexa #Clexa fic #Clexa fanfic #Lexa #Clexa au #fanfiction #writing #fic writing #advice #I was really annoyed bc I wrote this out and then accidentally backspaced and lost ALL OF IT #this is not written even half as pretty as the first had been but oh well

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nobravery · 7 years

Text

Not Meant To Be

a Shawn Mendes Imagine.

Requested: No.

Author's Note: Okay lmao this is actually a repost bc I'd deleted this because it sucks and I edited it a bit given that Shawn had moved to his condo etc, and mostly because some things didn't make sense lol. So here's the very first imagine I'd written about this guy we call Shawn Mendes. One more time you'll note that some terms in italics aren't translated, some were intentional (at the beginning the y/n was meant to come from the UK, but I had to change because of the French I couldn't translate rip), others not because there are precisely some expressions I couldn't translate in English (I don't know the equivalents in English). In conclusion, I know that I've probably misconjugated a lot but I don't care I've never really understood how to use the tenses in English lol.

WordCount: 2,551

Tuesday, August 15th. Half past eleven.

Actually, for these two last days, they had been staying at the Mendes’ household, because Shawn wanted to spend some time with his family. What could be more natural? At this precise moment, both of them were standing in the room, alone. They just ended what they were doing. Shawn had written some lyrics and had sung a bit, as regards y/n, she’d been working, preparing herself for her next year at University.

Without knowing why, she was staring around her now. First of all, the sofa where she sat so many times. Even without being sat on it she could smell the scent of the leather. It was a smell she never forgot. Then her look drifted towards the dining-room. It was made with wood. A good quality wood. The well-put chairs were too.

She truly loved this house. It was like hers.

However, suddenly, his voice obligated her not to be in trance anymore.

« Listen, y/n, I don’t mean to seem brusque, but we need to talk. About something serious. »

The young girl started instantly.

« Okay, I’m listening to you, she mumbled, taking her handouts. »

She was just thinking about his voice she just heard. Her favorite melody. It was as pleasant as the sound of the waves while you’re on the beach or even the sound of the raindrops crashing on the windows while raining. His voice always appeased her.

Shawn took a deep breathe before trying to make a proper speech.

« I don’t know where and how I should start. Look, I really love you, I–

– I love you too, Shawn, what’s the p–

– No please, let me talk first, listen to me carefully until the end. You’ll talk after me. »

y/n answered with a nod. She continued to stare at his pretty hazel eyes which were beautifully shining.

« I love you. I’m a hundred percent sure. I know what I feel for you. You’re very special, you’re full of qualities, you mean a lot to me. Really, you’re really perfect to me. I… I… Look, right now I feel as if I made you waste your time, I feel as if I was a very bad boyfriend because I’m never here for you while you need strong and solid support for you new year at Uni. Both you and I are leaving tomorrow and won’t see each other for awhile, I won’t be able to fly to France for a moment. I already miss you even though you’re still there with me, in my own house, and I don’t want you to suffer from my perpetual absence. So, all of this things hurt me. y/n, you need someone who’s always alongside you, someone who could give you more than I would be able to, you know? You deserve happiness and not suffering because of me, because you’re always waiting for me and because I’m never beside you. You deserve to be with someone who’s always there for you and not a poor guy who’s even not in the same timezone as yours. You follow? I… I feel as if I wasn’t the one that you need, y/n. My life is insane, we are worlds apart. I’m not meant to be with someone right now. I’m not the one who can love you in the way you deserve. »

He interrupted himself.

« I don’t deserve you. You deserve better than me. You deserve the best. »

y/n said nothing. She hadn’t moved an inch. Her eyes were examining the floor.

« You… you wanna break up? she said calmly.

– That's… that’s I was trying to say, yes. »

She swallowed, without talking more. She simply put her numerous handouts onto the table again.

« Please, y/n, say something, Shawn beseeched her, only noting the oppressive silence. »

She licked her bottom lip, trying to find something coherent to say.

« Come on, we need to talk together about this. »

She just sighed.

« So… it was bound to happen, right? You know Shawn, you won’t believe me but yes, you are the only one for me, the only one I want. This might be crazy uh… I don’t want nobody but you… You’re the only reason why I wake up each morning while my studies are literally killing me, the reason why I continue to revise properly for the sake of having a nice job later. I just need you, and no matter if you’re always on tour, I have a life too, I have my classes, my revisions, etc–

– Maybe it’s okay for you. It’s what you say. But I’m not. I’m not okay with the fact that you are so far from me. That I always must leave. That I can’t see with my own eyes how you are daily. That you’re living your life thousands of kilometers away from me, leaving you alone. I’m sorry, but I’m not a proper boyfriend. I can’t. I can’t stand that. And I know you enough to tell you that you deserve better than a ghost boyfriend.

– It doesn’t matter to me. I love you. I was told that quelqu'un qui sait attendre en vaut la peine, someone who can wait is someone who’s worth it.

– But I can’t wait. I can never actually. QED. »

Each of them were going round in circles. Him running his fingers through his rumpled hair in frustration, she looking up at him, finally drowning her look into his.

« Je… I’ve no more arguments, uttered y/n. If you think that it’s the best for us… It depends on you actually, so…

– I’m not saying that we can’t be friends though–

– I don’t know. Actually it’s more complicated that I had beforehand planned.

– What do you mean?

– Nothing. Let it down. »

She wasn’t looking at him anymore, but the floor, her hands in the pockets.

« As I’m gonna leave tomorrow, I assume that I have to start packing.

– Okay, retorted the Canadian sadly. »

y/n picked up all of her handouts again, then hastened to leave the room, ran up the stairs to get back to Shawn’s room where her suitcase had been put, with some stuffs she had unpacked. So she started putting her things away, as carefully as hastily. She tried to look impartial.

A few minutes later, she could hear the young boy climbing the stairs as well, and standing on the doorstep.

« Are you mad at me? he finally asked.

– I don’t know, honestly. There’s nothing else to add. It’s over.

– Hum, hum.

– We’re just not meant to be. That’s a fact. That’s life. We all do mistakes.

– Wait, are you saying that you and I, it was a mistake? Am I a mistake for you? »

The young girl sighed loudly, looking for something pertinent to answer.

« That’s not what I meant. Don’t be a fool please Shawn. Just… I hope for you that you’ll find someone who will be able to travel the world with you. Or another popstar I guess, I don’t know. As long as she’s a fully English-speaker, Anglophone… you know; car moi tu vois ça me saoûle tout ça, je– well I’m tired, I can’t take anymore, she corrected rapidly in English, with a clipped voice.

– I’m sorry, but really, you know that I– we made this decision for our own good. And we needed to talk to you about this.

– Fine. And we ended up by taking the decision together eventually.

– Hum hum…

– I understand you know, Shawn. You’re right. We’re not meant to be, as I said previously. We don’t live in the same world. »

While she was squatting down, y/n got up again to face Shawn who had got closer.

« Is your suitcase finally finished? he questioned.

– Almost finished. I just let some stuffs until tomorrow.

– Okay, so much the better. »

She sighed one more time.

« You know? After all we’ve done together during a short time, I’ve flown there for the second time especially for you, I came to your shows in Toronto and Montreal these days, the money I’ve spent to see you… And now we’re just saying that « it’s over ». I’ll need some time.

– I know, likewise. Look, I’m sorry again, I–

– No, stop talking, say nothing. It hurts us enough. Please. I just don’t realize for the moment. Just… I must admit that I’m glad you chose your career and not me. As I had told you when we started dating, your career is literally your life, and I don’t want you to ruin it now because of me. Just like me, you’re about to be nineteen, you’re young and you have a plenty of things to discover in your field yet. »

Shawn nodded in a sad way. Then he looked at his bed, next to them. The bedclothes were still rumpled. So with his eyes he analyzed the fine white sheets. He might bet that they were still impregnated with her sweet scent. Her delicious fresh lavender fragrance with a little touch of thyme. His favourite smell.

« When are you gonna leave? y/n carried on. »

The brown-hair boy didn’t answer spontaneously, thinking about all of this.

« At the same time as you.

– Okay, this is cool. »

He attempted to catch her look, but impossible. She was avoiding his.

« y/n, you’re mad.

– I’m not.

– Don’t lie to me, please even a blind would see it.

– Listen, I don’t know how I feel at the moment. It’s just difficult, I think you can understand, on est un peu dans le même bateau. Okay? she exclaimed as she was closing her backpack that she placed onto the bed, without letting up. »

But their conversation was interrupted when they heard the front door slamming downstairs. The Mendes family had just returned from shopping.

« We’re back! they could hear Shawn’s mother.

– I’m coming to help! yelled the French. »

Her gaze met Shawn’s quickly, then deserted immediately. Once downstairs, she saw Karen and Aaliyah who were putting down the groceries on the table. Manny just joined them after.

« Want me to help? y/n suggested.

– I can’t refuse, admitted Karen.

– Where’s Shawn? asked Aaliyah. I bet he’s still sleeping.

– Nope, he’s upstairs, he’s coming. »

Indeed, the latter appeared a few second not long afterwards.

« What did you do this morning? questioned the father.

– Nothing special, I’ve studied a bit, and I just packaged, y/n informed him.

– What about you, Shawn?

– I tried to write new songs. I’m getting to be inspired. »

He had a look at y/n who was staring at him… sadly?

« Well, ready for tomorrow?

– I’m kinda nervous as usual but it’s okay. »

Then Aaliyah had a glance at her brother as well as his girlfriend.

« You both guys look tired and preoccupied. Are you okay? »

The two who were concerned looked at each other, not knowing what to reply. But while they were still putting the groceries away, a ring tone rang out. Sauvés par le gong.

« Sorry, it’s mine, declared y/n, my parents are calling me. Excusez-moi. »

Wednesday, August 16th.

Pearson Airport, Toronto. Seventeen past one.

« Nothing forgotten? Karen asked the youngsters for the umpteenth time.

– Nothing, they simply answered in unison. I brought everything, added y/n. »

Shawn smiled sadly. She barely looked at him. And his parents and his sister didn’t suspect the tension there was between both the French girl and himself.

Some of Shawn’s team were there too. All of them were in the great hall and had some conversations with y/n and the young singer about the tour.

At a moment, the Frenchwoman looked at the time on her phone.

« Je dois y aller. I have to go, she simply said. »

She had a quick look at the guys then at Shawn, who was staring at his family talking with Andrew, his manager. She said goodbye to each of the boys, except Shawn who followed her joining the Mendes and Andrew, to say goodbye to them.

« Hope to see you again soon, Manny said to y/n. We can’t wait the next time.

– I hope so. I’ll come back, it’s sure.

– I’ll miss you, Aaliyah confessed. I’ll miss your French accent too I must admit.

– I’ll try to be back as soon as possible, I promise little girl. You can text me whenever you want. »

Then she said goodbye to Andrew as well as all of the crew was going to their terminal, for flight to Brooklyn.

Before y/n left on the other side, Shawn took her aside, even though the others and Andrew were beckoning him.

« Hey Shawn, both you and I have to go. »

He ignored y/n’s words, and put his hands on her cheeks. He looked at her lips, these famous lips that taste like mint. These well-shaped lips that were still his only few days ago. He wanted to kiss them, but he perfectly well knew that he couldn’t. Then he looked at her, gazing into each other’s eyes. Time seemed to stop. He had always had this impression. He just acted as if they were both alone in the middle of the airport, close to the boarding areas. He kept staring at her pupils. These beautiful ones. She still had this radiant look that made her attractive even more.

« I already miss you, you know, Shawn confided to y/n. »

She didn’t answer; she looked so neutral. So he removed his hands from her pinky cheeks, still staring at her.

« Can I hug you? he timidly asked.

– Yes, as you wish. Come there. »

He pulled her close to him, rubbing her back with his hand. She was wearing the black tshirt he bought her few weeks ago. A sign that she was still fond of him, maybe. A physical way to show it. A way not to forget him.

Then she pulled away, and kissed on his right cheek eventually.

« Give me some news when you have time, Shawn begged her.

– Okay. I’ll try… Ça ne mange pas de pain hein. Sorry but I have to go now, really. I mustn’t be late. I’m sorry. »

She was getting ready to leave when he hold her up again.

« I love you, y/n. From the bottom of my heart. »

She turned around, smiling weakly.

« Je t'aime aussi, Shawn. Adieu. »

And then, leaving Shawn behind, she was moving away more and more, walking to her terminal, ready for her boarding.

Author's Note: Sorry again if it sucks lol. Mostly with grammar and conjugation and English in general, etc. AND SORRY IF THE FORMAT LOOKS WEIRD. Thanks for reading.

#feedback is appreciated #shawn mendes #shawn peter raul mendes #shawn mendes imagine #shawn mendes imagines #shawn mendes blurb #shawn mendes fluff #shawn mendes writing #mendes army

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