Vi x Reader One shots

Touch is Overrated

Warnings: Mention of low self worth

Scenario type: Fluff with a tiny bit of angst

Scenario scene: Some people don't like to be touched all that much. Nor do they need or crave it. So after years of being told that you were unlovable, you finally find someone worth your time.

Touch is Overrated

I never really understood the need for physical touch. I see so many people practically glued to each other's sides. It always makes me question how they can breathe. Mustn't it be near suffocating to be so intertwined?

This is where I find myself being rather different from others. In the past I had tried dating, but most of the time my partners would want me to be more physical with them. They told me it's not normal to be this 'distant' with them. That clearly I didn't care about them the same way they cared about me. Which wasn't true.

Of course, they never seemed to listen or try to understand how I felt about physical touch. How it could make me feel strangled and overwhelmed at the best of times. Still... It got me thinking that maybe there was something wrong with me. Maybe I really was the problem all along.

I didn't date for a long time after my last heartbreak. Too scared of facing the truth that I was in fact different from a large majority of people. Months passed with no one to share my world with. No staying up late talking on the phone for hours despite the looming knowledge of a full day's work ahead. Not a single walk through the park on a summer's day, met with a panic and reading in the company of a loved one. None of that. All because I couldn't get over myself.

This is what I believed would be my forever. Yet, during what could possibly have been my darkest time in my life, a woman with vibrant pink hair dared to become a part of my day. This would soon turn into her seeing me once a week. She seemed to be everywhere I was. Always the same cheeky glint in her eye.

As weeks passed, we got to know each other little by the little. Which soon led me to actively search for her eyes in the crowd as I went about my day. At first the feeling scared me. Yet, I couldn't deny the way my heart fluttered when she would come happily striding over to me from across a shop floor.

The day she asked me out on a date I nearly died from a heart attack right there. I said yes of course. However, there were many doubts clouding my mind the day she did. And the following week was hell. I kept wondering if I should mention my physical touch issues or just enjoy what little time I might have with this wonderfully charming woman.

When the day of our date came, I was in such a state. My mind was whirling with worries and added fear. All the words my previous partners had said to me stirring the pot of self-doubt into a torrent of anxiety. I was different. I was weird. Not normal. Unable to love others the way they should be.

How I made it to the date I will never know. But I did and within one day, Vi, the woman with tattoos covering her arms, her neck and even her back, a woman others would die to be with, had chosen to spend her time with a stone statue like me.

The date was going well, until Vi went to hold my hand. Her simple action triggered some kind of uncomfortable anxiety within me and after only 10 minutes of contact, I couldn't bare it. I knew Vi fairly well at this point but I needed more time to feel comfortable with such a small act of intimacy.

For the rest of the date I tried my hardest to make any possible excuse to avoid her touch. I prayed to the heavens above for her not to take note of this. Bu then again, how couldn't she? People who like each other don't actively avoid the other's warm embrace. It's not normal.