Sanders Sides Tickle Fic Oneshots

Ad'fix'tion (Analogical)

Not all tickle fics have to be light hearted! >:-3 This was the big project I had been working on. I tried a different writing style and I'm not sure how it turned out.

This is my attempt at writing an angsty tickle fic. I dont know how well I really did. So this is just an experiment! If no one likes it then I won't write another one. Problem solved. I just wanted to challenge myself ya know? So now I can go work on the three prompts the anons sent in so I'm excited! :3

Without further ado, please enjoy:

Ad'fix'tion

(Ships): Analogical

Words ~ 1,837

(Warning): Tickle fic. Contains Self-harm, suggestive themes, NSFW, sensual wording, and a crap ton of angst, (turns fluffy in the end though).

The world is a twisted place, full of the illusions humans so often call happy endings. He of all the sides knew this the most. Whether it was because he had been the bearer of bad news for so many years, or that he was the only pessimist of the bunch, he did not have the complete answer. Perhaps it was just him blowing things out of proportion, like usual. The other options formed in his head one by one. Through all the excuses, all the complaints, all the sorrow, and pain, he needed an escape. Sadly, the escape he chose had dire consequences.

Virgil sat in the bath tub, shirtless, gatorade to his right and the knife to his left. Deep inside he did not want to cut himself. Deep inside he wished he could stop. Oh with every fiber of his being did he want to stop, but he was bound. Fastened. Held. Chained to the thoughts that plagued him every single day. He was unable to prevent the thing he feared most from occurring.

Obeying the command that rang within his very soul, his left hand shakily grabbed the knife and held it up to his throat. It demanded that he not disobey the ritual the darker aspect had performed for so long, lest his grip would fail him and plummet the holder into an endless sleep. A gasp of helplessness pursed the darker aspects lips as the knife moved away from his face, and down to its original target, accepting his surrender of the daily blood offering. Try what he may, Virgil could not utter a single word or stop the trajectory of his left hand, but someone else could.

It all happened so quickly. The bathroom door had opened. A yelling figure rushed in. A separate hand intervened. The hand that held the knife was yanked away, preventing further damage to the shaking aspect.

Virgil stared at the wall, unable to make sense of what was going on around him. He sat paralyzed from the fear instilled in him, until a fourth hand chose his hair as its nesting place.

It relaxed him, stroking the black strands in the direction it was combed, lightly skimming the top of the darker aspects scalp.

Virgil's body instantly relaxed into the touch. He felt himself regain control over his left hand, the death grip loosening around the tool of torment as it tumbled out of his fingers and landed with a loud 'Clack!' on the floor.

The sound startled him out of his trance, his gaze snapping away from the wall and into the eyes of the one who had saved him from his self-torture.

The look on his face displayed one of bitter sorrow mixed with deep concern. Eventually it all faded into a neutral, stern expression, his hand still carting through the darker aspect's fluffy hair.

"Virgil..." His savior spoke.

"...Logan..." Virgil was barely able to mumble the logical traits name as his worry completely faded out of memory. Logan's grip slackened on his left wrist, trusting Virgil was free of the madness.