#but i guess just the relief of finally seeking help n feeling like im not stuck n this isnt the end

[newfeeling77]

im making healthier choices for my brain every day. for my body thats another story

[longassr1de]

Sweetness

Pairing: Jeno × fem!reader

Genre: smut!!, established relationship, domestic??

Word count: ~2k

Summary: What better way to beat the summer heat than with a sweet treat?

⚠️ Warnings: pretty much another pwp, 00 liner smut, food play, ice play(?), fingering, rough and unprotected sex, oral (both male and female receiving), pet names (moreso relationship-wise though), look..very curious things happen with popsicles okay?, not yet proofread.

A/N: lmk if I missed any warnings or any typos and such! I haven't written in so long or thought up anything this filthy to the point that I even surprised myself with this one.. so much for easier the 00 line content onto this blog. Whoops! Anyway I hope you guys enjoy! xoxo (oh also im currently on mobile so i'll add the read later in a bit, i apologize in advance!!)

It all started out with Jeno being a tease on a hot, hot summer evening. Sure, it was terribly humid out, but the way he kept sucking at the colorful popsicle even when it began to melt down to his slender fingers had you feeling wet heat in a much more personal sense. He held eye contact with you as his lips pulled away from the frozen treat, sinful eyes making it a point to devour the way you intook just a little extra air when he licked at the sticky mess upon his palm.

"Care for a taste?" Jeno offered, his deep voice filled with mirth. That's all it really took for you quickly stride across the room to join him where he'd been sat at the sofa. He tossed the remainder of the popsicle atop its wrapper on the coffee table, instead pulling you into his lap as he pushed his tongue past your lips. You could still taste the cold sweetness on his tongue even as he sucked at yours, biting your bottom lip as his strong embrace loosens in favor of grabbing at your ass.

He thanks the heavens for your wardrobe selection today, your skirt making it so much easier to grind against your pretty little panties. If the wet spot forming on his pants was anything to go by, he'd guess you were just as needy as him if not moreso.

"On your back princess, I wanna try something." Jeno helps you take off your shirt as he lays you onto the leather, straddling over your hips before slowly making his way down to your breasts. He mumbles out praises for your body as his slowly warming mouth licks and sucks at your nipples. He separates from your body, drawing out a whine from your lips, when suddenly his now cold again mouth quickly works them to stiff peaks.

"You like that, baby?" You can only nod at his question, carelessly reaching for his hair, needing something to grab onto as he presses cold kisses across the expanse of your neck down your torso. "You're so sensitive for me, does a little cold make you this wet, hmm?" You blink up at your usually sweet boyfriend, only to find his gaze to be more hungry than playful.

"Answer me, baby? Or have I already fucked you stupid without even touching you?" The loud whine your body automatically let out as a response to his filthy words has you blushing frantically, only serving to further spur Jeno's near-sadistic behavior. "Aww, it's ok princess, there's no need to be embarrassed. You're gonna sound so pretty when you're cumming for me later, I just know it."

Before you know it, your skirt's flipped up to cover your abdomen, and it's near impossible to tear your gaze away from Jeno's fingers and how they seemingly glide across your wet lips. His tongue peeks out to lick at your clit before giving it a harsh suck, pulling back to bite at your thigh with a groan, and you just know he's left you with another blossoming mark. You always make it a point to complain about Jeno's marking habits, but he knew better; after all, he's caught you staring at them in the mirror before when you thought he wasn't home.

Frustrated that you had yet to be properly touched despite all your boyfriend's teasing, crinkling sound catches your attention, only to be met with the sight of Jeno sucking at that damned popsicle again. So much for hoping it was a condom so you'd finally be getting some. "Babe, pleeaaseee," you keen, wiggling your hips before biting at your swollen lower lip, trying to entice your boyfriend, "do something, anything."

"Anything?" But it's more of a statement than a question, as you soon find out. The remainder of your clothing is dragged off your body before the cool touch surprises you, but you're even more surprised to find Jeno fucking a brand new popsicle into your wetness. "Your pussy's gonna be so sticky and sweet for me, can't wait to watch you suck it off me," he all but groans at the mere thought of your heavenly lips sucking him off. The image of Jeno's colorful cum spilling out of you doesn't last long, as the freezing treat demands its presence be known, his tongue simultaneously going back to working at your clit.

Letting out a loud moan of his name, he looks up at you, squeezing you thigh with his free hand to draw your attention back to his face, intense eyes settling upon your teary ones. "Does it feel good, baby? Is it too cold?" You're touched that he's checking up on you, but it's really difficult to form words when his cold digits take over and fuck up into you with fervor.

"Don't stop, don't stop fuck Jeno please don't stop!" Just as you cry out for more, the man in question pulls away from you completely, leaving you high and dry just when it your orgasm was building up around his skilled fingers. Your eyes open to the sight of a shirtless Jeno with his pants and briefs pushed down just enough so that he can fuck up into his hand, giving himself just a hint of relief before moving on to the main event. Complaints die in your throat as you watch Jeno grasp both his leaking cock and the popsicle between his palms, rocking against the length of the sticky mess before once again pushing it into you a handful of times, ultimately discarding it off-handedly in the general direction of the coffee table it had been melting atop. "Think you're ready to take my cock now, princess? Wanna feel how well you take me," mumbling the latter against your lips, already having his tongue nearly down your throat as he aligns his tip, drawing out beautiful, desperate moans when he finally pushes in and sheathes himself inside your wetness to the hilt. You'd never even noticed when the rest of his clothes had gone missing, but you weren't complaining either.

"Fuck Jeno, how do you feel so hot yet so cold at the same time?" you shiver, simultaneously pulling closer and farther from his body, seeking the warmth from his chest while avoiding his freezing hands. He only chuckles at this, kissing further down your jaw before pausing to suck another mark, this time into your sensitive breast. Jeno's cold hands find purchase on your hips despite all your wriggling, bodies quickly warming up as the heat in the room rises on this passionate summer night. His hips work a strong rhythm into your own, pulling lewd melodies from the depths of your chest, raking your nails down his broad back in retaliation for making your things quake.

"Please tell me you're close, because I'm so turned on I can't guarantee I'll outlast you at this rate." The sheepish confession coming from a face that's anything but has you nearly combusting on the spot. His furrowed brows, parted, kiss-swollen lips and strangled groans all adding to your current heightened state of pleasure.

"Just a little more, Jeno I'm so so close. Feels so fucking good, just like tha-at," your eyes roll back as you're speaking and the cockiness that his features don immediately spell trouble. He's found your spot and he is whole heartedly planning to abuse this newfound knowledge. Both of your thighs are pushed up and pinned in place by your chest, his knees digging deeper into the leather; the glint in your boyfriend's dark eyes shining twice as bright in the now-evening glow, vision quickly blurring as his pace picks up considerably. His filthy praises besides your ear only helping your decent further into madness, bucking your hips into his as your nails dig into his shoulders for dear life.

"That's it, good girl, let go for me, come all over my dick, you can do it." As if by magic spell, your release floods your senses, a strangled cry of Jeno's name escaping your weak lips, babbling as he continues to fuck you through your orgasm. The colorful popsicle residue mixed with your own cum leaks out of you as Jeno pulls out of your warmth, and he stops for a moment to admire the art that would soon be once again ruined by raging hormones.

True to his filthy word, once you've recovered your still-horny lover is quick to lead your head between his legs, making sure you wouldn't forget the real sticky treat he'd made sure to save you a taste of. "Your mouth feels so good, so good, all for me, yeah?" he coos down at your form, blissed out as he enjoys the view.

It's his turn to be surprised however, when you pull off his cock to wink up at him, seductively murmuring for him to use you for his own release and fuck your throat. Not one that needs to be told twice, Jeno cups your cheeks as he holds you in place, slowly slipping into your mouth once again. He stops to make sure you're sure, asking if you're okay every time you whine or gag around him, not wanting to hurt you either.

Once you reassure him you're fine and start moving of your own accord, the loudest moan you've ever heard from Jeno to date spilling out, his head thrown back in sheer pleasure from the delicious sensation. You have all but a minute's worth of the upper hand before feline eyes are back on your own, silently asking for permission to begin moving his hips. Your silent response comes in the way your hands come up to his hips, ready to stop him if you needed to come up for air. A mere three thrusts in and Jeno is doubling over, sweet and filthy words coming out slurred as he's drunk off the feeling of your thigh throat around his length. "I'm so fucking close, oh my god," Jeno's ragged voice manages to rasp out, bucking wildly as you gag around his thick dick. "Gonna cum down your throat princess, yes or no?" He tugs at your hair to get your attention, briefly stilling his fidgeting hips. Your moan of an answer and the way you claw at his thighs to brace yourself being all the nonverbal cues he needs before he pulls out, sensitive tip all the way at your lips again, and you take in a deep breath just before he pushes back in so deep you feared you wouldn't be able to take it, the evidence of white, hot pleasure coating your throat in stripes.

Rather than the usual salty tang of Jeno's cum, the sweetness of the popsicle and taste of your own essence remaining the dominant taste on your tongue. You lick at your sticky lips as Jeno slowly pulls away from your mouth, hissing at how sensitive he is after such a powerful orgasm. He lays back before pulling you with him to lie over his chest, uncaring for the sweaty sheen adorning your bodies in favor of the peaceful embrace of your love. Many peppered kisses and high praises later, Jeno gently turns to press a lingering kiss atop your head, softly calling your name to beckon your gaze.

He breaks the silence by asking, "What do you say about trying whipped cream next time?"

"Sounds... sweet," you retort, much to Jeno's chagrin. At times like this he could easily see why his friends made fun of you two for your sense of humor. But for as much as he teased, he knew he would always be twice as in love with you as he ever claimed to be. And that.. was pretty sweet indeed.

[prettywordsyouleft]

Reconciliation - Part 5 (Final)

Pairing: Im Jaebum x reader

Genre: ex-lovers au / angst / romance / business au

Warnings: unprotected sex, mature content.

Reconciliation will be shared daily at 10am NZST.

Preview | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5

This was how you had originally imagined this trip. Waking up in Jaebum’s arms the following morning was sweeter than you could remember. And after spending a little too long in the shower cleaning up from last night, you both happily went into the breakfast buffet where you laughed and shared food. The light atmosphere continued throughout the day, as did the kisses, the hand-holding, and much later, the endless rides to Nirvana.

It was what you had hoped for all along. And with your trip closing tomorrow, you were satisfied that when you had first thought to come here, the things on your list had been checked off with today’s efforts.

However, those desires came from a time where you were happy to just follow Jaebum around. Since finding your independence, you had moments throughout the day and night where you were bothered, and a cold sense of dread would wash over you.

The dream had to end here, with the sand and sun.

You woke before Jaebum did the next morning and spent the time taking in every detail of the man you loved. Even with him showering you in all the affection that you had ever wished for, and knowing how deeply his own feelings ran for you, this time, it would be you who broke his heart first.

You wanted to memorise every inch of him, right down to his freckles and imperfections in case you never saw them up close like this again.

Eventually, the man holding you stirred out of his slumber, Jaebum blearily squinting at you and letting out a breath of relief. It pained you to think that he was counting his blessings to truly find you here at his side and no longer a dream as he had told you about.

“Why are you awake first?” he huskily asked, moving to catch your shoulders with his lips. He kissed your bare skin a couple of times before resting back onto his pillow. “I wanted to watch you instead.”

“Should’ve woken up earlier then,” you teased, taking his hand in yours and linking it together.

You felt the words you need to say at the back of your throat and you smiled, hoping that would ease your nerves.

Jaebum watched you and after frowning, he sat up a little. “You’re going to finally say it, aren’t you?”

“You knew?”

He nodded. “I kind of guessed. I mean, we fell back into one another as if the three months never passed us by. And I know that I’ve said some things that might lend you hope that it could improve between us.”

“It’s not even that I don’t want this, because I do. I want to be with you, wholeheartedly. You said that I was it for you. Well, I’m pretty sure it’s the same for me.”

“Then what is it?” he wondered, and you shifted so you could sit up as well. Once settled at his side, you began to play with his fingers, trying to find the right words. “You need time?”

“I need to find who I am. Things are scary but really good right now for me. I’m starting my new business and I’m looking forward to running it. And it’s not a being busy reason either, even though I know I’m going to be super busy.”

Jaebum nodded listlessly, and you could tell he was genuinely listening to you, though he face was devoid of emotion. He was simply closing himself off to help with the pain.

You pressed on. “I don’t want to fall back into you. I don’t want either of us to rely on the other the way we used to. I thought I only needed your validation and you felt you only needed me to comfort you. We’re both more than that.”

“So this is it for us? For good?” he breathed, and you blinked when you noticed how watery his eyes had become. “We leave the confessions, the feelings here in these sheets?”

“We’re ending it better this time around, don’t you think?” you bartered and Jaebum rubbed at his face. “I need to focus on myself. If I can’t even do that, then there’s no point in me trying to rediscover us.”

“I get it,” he answered, taking you in his arms right when you began to cry. “I don’t want to but I do. Just remember to find me when the time is right.”

“Maybe we’ll find each other when we least expect it, just like we did here.”

Time seemed to fly by once you were back to reality. You left the ground running and after a solid year of hard work, you could slowly reap the rewards. You were acknowledged as a bright, new CEO and your company was definitely catching heads from all around. By your second year of business, you could loosen off the steam you were moving with. Your products were making consistent sales and you had taken on your first overseas client.

Everything seemed to be working like a well-oiled machine.

Not only had you discovered your own style as a CEO, you excelled at it. You liked being able to support your team and motivate them to strive for bigger goals.

Much as you were doing with your personal life. You had taken up online courses alongside your job and although you were exhausted from time to time, you had developed a love for photography and passion for interior design. You already had future aspirations to branch out into design in the following year.

Right now though, you wanted to enjoy life at a slower speed and not watch it pass on by in the blink of an eye.

And there was no one else you would rather do that with than Jaebum.

It hadn’t been complete radio silence between you both. You had each compromised to emails, sending each other messages at least twice a month. You had learned through them that he had fostered some cats and was passionate about raising them, and his latest investor had backed him over the company you had once lost out to. He’d also started cooking lessons, opting to make it home in the evening to eat there instead of ordering to his office each night.

Neither of you talked of what more you wanted from each other and about relationships. You had on several occasions almost emailed him asking him if he was seeing anyone but each time you chided yourself for seeking out information that could lead to complicating things. And you really didn’t want to do that if you weren’t ready to commit.

Standing near the gate for your impending flight, you focused on snapping the sunset out the large windows that was casting brilliant light over the aeroplanes nearby, the land behind it looking magical just like the sky did. You were ready to feel the freedom that came with travelling and taste the delicious foods that your destination had in store for you. As you watched the sky change its colours right before you, it was hard to not get lost in the thought of your self-development. Standing here right now, you couldn’t be prouder of who you had become if you tried.

Still, the nagging voice that wanted to share your accomplishments with someone else pulled you back to reality and you gasped when you realised boarding had commenced. As you walked onto the plane, you tried not to get too excited about the impending trip and looked out for your seat number. You grinned when you found it and after pulling your bag strap over your head and putting your bag under your seat, you sat down, fussing with your seatbelt for a moment. The person travelling next to you was already seated and you sighed when you realised your belt was linked with theirs.

Tapping him on the shoulder, you waited until he turned to look at you, ignoring the way he stared at you. “Uh, my belt is trapped in yours somehow.”

“Y/N,” Jaebum breathed, sitting up properly as his eyes continued to remain wide. He didn’t react as you reached to undo the belt across him so you could get yours free, still staring at you until you waved a hand in front of his face.

“You okay?”

“I just… I’m not dreaming, right? The plane hasn’t taken off and crashed somewhere and this is the afterlife?” he blurted out and you gave him a look, aghast by his assumption.

“No, we’re very much so alive and we better stay that way!”

“Then, it’s happened again. Just like you said when we parted last time!” he continued, shaking his head with disbelief.

You tried not to laugh. “Oh yeah?”

“Well, I was invited to go on this trip, were you too?”

“I guess you could say that,” you mused, amazed that he hadn’t clicked onto it yet.

“Wait,” he finally said, pointing at you. “How come you’re not amazed to see me?”

“Maybe because I was not about to wait until fate would have us cross paths again and booked this trip for us,” you announced and Jaebum slowly grinned.

“Really? You want to spend time with me?”

“Should I go spend it with someone else?” you offered and Jaebum disagreed almost immediately, taking your hand in his. You shifted closer, smiling at him as he rubbed his thumb over the back of your hand affectionately.

“You know, when this trip is over, I’m not going to agree about parting ways again,” he told you and you grinned, leaning in so you could kiss his lips.

“Fate might have been late in bringing us back together but I’m not going to let anything – or one – pull us apart again.”

_________________

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[aesop1]

clumsy [1]

pirate!chanyeol x reader

a/n: hello, im new. i like exo. i decided to write to my heart’s content at 1 am. i wrote this in about an hour. on my phone. with no beta readers. so let’s do this!

word count: 3.1 k

warnings: none so far, just a few swear words; no semblance of a plot; may not continue this, depends on how i feel.

(i do not own gif)

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6

———————-

“yn, would you help me with this load?” your father called out from the front of the saloon. glancing over, you spotted him stumbling whilst balancing two large crates atop one another. he sighed in relief as you claimed the top crate. “thank you.”

“of course,” you carefully traversed the cobblestone incline leading to said saloon, ignoring the murmurs from the customers within.

in your small village on a small island, everyone knew everyone. meaning everyone knew you: the klutz who co-runs this place with her widowed father. by klutz, you’re not the cute, clumsy, trip-over-her-feet-into-a-dashing-gentleman’s-arms klutz; you’re zone-out-for-a-second-and-not-notice-the-wooden-bench-you-just-successfully-flipped-over klutz. after your third grand mishap, everyone labelled you as variations of clumsy, one of the most famous ones being:

“bungler, do you need help?” one of the men clung to the bar called out, earning some dramatic guffaws from his colleagues.

the first moment you heard the term bungler, you laughed. your father quickly explained to you the negative connotation revolving that word, basically calling you clumsy and awkward in a rather mocking sense. ever since, it has stuck to your character and become your alias around town.

successfully dropping the crate in the kitchen, you leaned back in your stance, hands on your hips as you caught your breathe. the rough melodies of traditional sea shanties meandered through the kitchen, taunting and reminding you that outside awaits a whole audience of creatures who are just waiting for your next spectacle. you were brought back to reality by the sound of the other crate being placed on yours.

“yn, dear,” your father gently pinched your chin as he took in your conflicted form. “head upstairs, I’ll finish up here and close. you’ve worked hard today, as you always do. thank you.” with a smile and the familiar burning sensation in your eyes, you held back your tears and thanked your father, hugging him and sliding out of the kitchen to evacuate to your room.

upon entering, you untied your apron and tossed it to your bed, cracking your joints everywhere as you finally allowed relaxation to overtake your being. collapsing onto your bed, you closed your eyes for a well deserved moment. you knew it wasn’t necessarily a bad thing to be so clumsy, but having a whole town mock you really takes a toll on you, as it would anyone else.

they treated you as if you were a jester, as if you were meant to appease to their humor, their entertainment. you were a show pony with a twisted ankle and they merely laughed. finally allowing a tear to slip to your pillow, you clutched the linen blankets beneath you, seeking some sort of comfort. some escape. you sat upright and stared out the bay window overlooking the vast sea.

before her death, your mother spent her days filling your mind with wonders and promises of a better life out beyond the horizon. stories of princes saving princesses and knights conquering territories. however, your father kept you grounded with his forewarnings of sea storms and pirates. oh how pirates petrified you. filthy criminals gone rogue, pillaging villages just like yours for some excitement and wealth, murdering those in sight for any reason they can think of. if they didn’t like your face, they’d carve it out cleanly just for fun. the memories of the horrific tales your father would whisper to you as scary stories always turned your blood cold, all before your mother would hit him for scaring you and then comfort you with her own stories.

a sudden chill ran up your spine as you continued to admire the ripples of the ocean, a foreboding aura emitting off the once tranquil site. shuffling to lay down, you pulled the blankets over your head, trying to shake off the fear that coursed through your veins.

—–

a deafening screech outside jolted you awake, sitting up and hyperventilating as you took in your surroundings. you were in your room still, wearing the same clothes you wore to work. everything would’ve been normal if it weren’t for the glow of red flooding your room from the fires just outside. peering out the window, you choked on your breathe when you saw your childhood town in flames, bodies littering the floor like a war scene. screams continued to fill the atmosphere, clashing metal sending a numbing sensation through your body.

ignoring your fears, you willed yourself out of bed and bounded down the halls to find your father, grateful you had decided to wear pants the day prior. however, lady luck decided to turn a blind eye to you, sending you skidding down the hall and falling directly on your back. while you attempted to catch your breath, you rolled over and peered down the staircase before you. if you were struggling to inhale before, the scene before greatly helped your misfortune when a sharp gasp hit you.

your father lied dead right at the open doorway, a shadowed figure towering over him. due to your rather raucous scene, the silhouette was staring directly at you. frozen for a moment, you stared at one another, a prey subject to it’s predator’s deathly gaze. with a pivot your way, the pirate took one step towards you which sprung you to action, clambering to your feet and dashing down the hall again, ignoring the ache in your muscle. realizing you’re trapped, you took a sharp left into your father’s room, scanning for a weapon you could use. of course he had nothing, spending his days in his kitchen every chance he had.

a deep chuckle resonated through your house, overcoming the chaos outside. the blood rushing to your ears blurred the sounds outside, leaving you hypersensitive to the thudding of his boots stamping on the weak wood of the stairs. your heart leapt, running entirely on adrenaline rather than reason.

with that in mind, you already found yourself clawing out the window and grasping the dense vines lining the walls. rather than traipsing down like any same person would’ve, you instead climbed up onto the roof. your father wasn’t really one for house maintenance, the many missing shingles proving that statement. scaling the treacherous terrain beneath you was a harder feat than you could ever imagine, a shingle skidding off the roof right past your father’s window most likely giving away your location.

with no other option in mind, you stood there, overlooking the ashes of your now ruined community. a pang of sadness hit you as you spotted the bloodied face of your taunter from earlier and you shut your eyes. probably not the best idea, especially when the thump behind you startled you to death, another shingle sliding out from beneath your feet. for the second time that night, you fell, the impact causing a snowball effect of loose shingles giving out. you rolled off the roof entirely, plummeting directly to the ground and blacking out.

——–

faint voices enticed you from your slumber, pulling you into consciousness. you weren’t aware of the first few minutes of the conversation, but as you came to more, it became clearer and clearer.

“it was a pretty good load, I’ll give you that,” a voice chuckled out, followed by the familiar sound of coins clinking together into a pile.

“I told you so,” a vaguely familiar voice chimed in. the depth of the voice almost lulled you right back to sleep, your brain now concentrating on how smooth and alluring it was.

“why hadn’t we attacked before?” the first voice asked, steps getting louder and louder. or maybe it was just the pounding in the back of your head.

“it’s such a tiny speck on the map, I didn’t even think about going there before. who knew it was such a hotspot for trading.” the steps were indeed getting louder, as well as the voices. especially that buttery rich voice that could fill a theatre with ease. “they didn’t even have a militia.”

“they deserved to be hit by us, they were too comfortable with their safety.” you rolled your head side to side, hoping to coax your eyes open before the two reached you. “what’s this?” your eyes shot open when you realized the voice was less than a meter away. you forced yourself to take in your surroundings, drowsiness still a very apparent factor in your muddled mind. wooden crates surrounded your being, a white tunic covering everything. you held your breathe as the cloth was lifted slightly, but not enough to reveal your concealed form.

“ah baekhyun took it after my incident.”

“what incident?” a snicker from the previous man resounded, then a long exhale.

“I went towards this saloon because I saw the owner dead at the front. I wanted to see if any of the guys were in there looting. by the time I reached the front door, I just saw a girl run, slip, and fall right on her ass at the top of the stairs. when she looked at me, she recovered and took off.” the other voice sniggered at the story of my misfortune. “I decided to follow her, I thought she was amusing. she disappeared for a minute, but then I saw a shingle fall. by the time I reached the roof, she was gone. not really sure how she got away so quickly. when I climbed down and out the front door, I saw baekhyun struggling to pull this supply barrow. so I helped him. I doubt anything useful is in this.”

“should we check?”

“I’m not really in the mood to sort out garbage, let’s just send jongdae and sehun down.”

“sounds good.” their voices began fading away before a door closed, completely muting them. you sat up, wincing at the throbbing sensation in your skull. pushing the tunic off, you discovered you were in a supply room of sorts. your bones ached, specifically your entire backside. you guess you fell directly into the barrow when you fell off the roof. you stretched your limbs forward, awakening the heavy weight of sleep from your body. turning your head, you noticed a porthole right beside you.

you crawled over, peering outwards to the endless blue. no signs of land anywhere and an eery stillness settling over the waters. your stomach sunk once your predicament clicked in your fuzzy mind; you were a stowaway on the ship of pirates who destroyed your village. even if you managed to find an escape from here, where would you go? your home was your father, the man who lie dead on your front door. a body of chilled air began suffocating you, your throat swelling up with the familiar forewarning of tears. you pulled your legs close to you and hugged yourself, the last person you had in this life.

the door creaked open, introducing two new voices. instinctively, you leapt out of the barrow, ignoring the pain shooting up your person and dived behind some other crates.

“so chanyeol said we had to clear out the barrow with the tunic,” one voice stated.

“I’m not seeing it,” the other voice answered. you decided to cautiously peek out to witness who you’re dealing with. a man, tall and thin yet by no means lanky. the other being on the shorter side, yet still significantly taller and stronger than you. you’re going to die. “there’s a tunic underneath this barrow, not on top.”

“well yeah that’s the only barrow in here, even if it didn’t have the white sheet over it, we still could’ve figured it out, idiot– wait.” silence fell over the two. you peeked out again to see the shorter man with his arms up in a halting position, most likely the man to cut himself off. “why would chanyeol describe it as having a tunic if it didn’t.”

“I don’t know, maybe it had the tunic when he came down and he just took it off.”

“why would he still describe it as that if he took it off himself?” more silence. the taller one stared down at the other, emotionless as he processed his words. without warning, he pulled out a sword from his side, backing away and scanning the room. the shorter one followed suit, revealing a sword of his own as he walked the opposite way of the taller one. he was walking right towards you.

holding your breath, you recoiled into the wall, praying that the boxes around you would shield yourself. it seems the tables were turning in your favor, because the man stepped by you, continuing to search for his trespasser. when he and the other man met at the other side of the long room, they shrugged to one another and turned towards the door.

“well that was weird,” the taller one mumbled in an agitated tone.

“let’s tell chanyeol. even if there’s no one on board, he should be aware of the possibility.” with that, the door opened and shut. for precautionary measures, you waited a minute or two, at least until your heart stabilized and your breathing evened out. you leaned back against the wooden walls and clawed at your olive toned pants. you were shaking, whether it be from fear or the dread which began appearing the minute you awoke, you were near your breaking point.

the spare drops of adrenaline motivating your weak heart caused you to finally stand. you crawled over the boxes carefully, making sure to not make a sound and alert anyone who may be nearby. although you knew the coast was clear since the two men left. all you had to do was find an escape and–

“how could we forget we were sent down here to check the garbage,” a voice from before blurted out as the doors slammed open, the other one laughing at the clear aggression evident in his comrades actions. without even thinking, you leapt back into your spot from before. of course you just had to stumble over the empty crate which had hidden you from the assailants, causing it to topple over with an unnecessarily loud crash.

there you sat, in the open, curled into yourself and staring at the two men who stared right back in shock. it felt like an eternity went by as you all refused to break the trance set by the three. your eyes darted between the taller one and the shorter one, taking in their young and… un-pirate like appearance.

you were expecting large, bulking men with wiry beards tinged with silver, scars over their blinded white eye with an eye patch resting comfortably on their forehead. layers upon layers of coats and ragged clothes to keep warm during cold ocean nights. maybe a hook or a peg-leg, but at that point you were stretching it.

at the end, it was the tall one who just so happened to cough and break the silent pact. you scrambled to your feet, the two men already grappling you before you could even stand erect. they both lugged you away, dragging your flailing and screaming body away.

splinters dug into your ankles, the only protectant you had being your stockings beneath your pants. the grip the men had on your arms were sure to leave bruises on your delicate skin. your screaming reduced to a series of pleads by the time you reached the deck of the ship. your eyes began blurring with the tears that you held back this entire time, the gravity of your situation hitting you.

they brought you to a hallway which lead you to a large room laced with treasures beyond your imagination. never have you seen so much gold in one landscape. jewels scattered across a rococo desk, necklaces lining any edge they could dangle freely on. a bed that could hold five yous and still have room for comfort sat against the edge of a wall, a scarlet duvet stretched across the planes of the bed like a coat of snow. candles were the only source of light here, no portholes in sight.

“where’s chanyeol?” the tall one asked aloud.

“I’m not sure. he went in here before we went downstairs.”

“we still have to clean out the barrow.”

“I know, sehun. fuck, why do you have to keep reminding me.”

“you seem tense, dae.” sehun reached his free arm to dae’s shoulder, giving it a light squeeze. dae immediately reacted by slapping his hand away.

“leave me the fu–” a door opening interrupted the two bickering, all attention directed towards the man leaving what you believe was his private restroom. “chanyeol.”

your eyes expanded when you met the face of the pirate who has been plaguing your life since last night. the roof pirate. he looked at the two men, then down at you. when his eyes landed on your helpless being, the twitch in his eyebrows revealed he remembered exactly who you were. with a clap of his hands, he took two long strides to stand before the three of you.

“well look at this,” he slurred out in a lazy manner, as if he had all the time in the world to deal with you. “you found my stray kitten. good work, boys.”

“your what?” sehun spluttered out, earning a smack in the back of his head from dae.

“jongdae, sehun, you are free to leave.” he never took his eyes off you, a smile slowly stretching upon his connivingly handsome face.

“do we still need to clean the–” another slap and a whine and they were gone, leaving you stranded on the floor with this man standing above you. the situation reminded you too much of the last scene you saw of your father lying dead beneath this man. you cowered away from his gaze, your cheek pressed against your shoulder. the man crouched to your level, grabbing your chin and turning you towards him. his hands were calloused, yet some warmth seeped through the rough exterior. rather than it being the comforting warmth of a fireplace or a home cooked meal, it felt more like the flames of hell themselves, tickling your skin with their embers. you were forced to stare at him, a demon trapped in the body of a boyishly attractive being. black hair tousled haphazardly like a nest, obsidian eyes darting around to each and every feature on your face, narrow cheeks cascading downwards into a sharp jawline.

“looks like I did manage to claim you after all,” he finally spoke, tapping his finger against your jaw. tonguing the side of his mouth, he leaned forward to your ear, fiery breathe sending shivers through you. “I’m going to make your life a living hell for trying to run away from me.”

[virmillion]

What Was Missing

me? writing something unrelated to what i’m supposed to be working on again? it’s more likely than you think // aka i had another idea and wrote it down and hopefully it doesn’t suck // TLDR i try to write with some different tools and it maybe isnt terrible but i guess we’ll find out (@ the limericks, im lookin at you)

a n g s t      (or at least my attempt at it)

Pairings: none, maybe prinxiety if you squint

Warnings: blood mention, lots of yelling, character death (sort of), let me know if you see any more

Word count: 4k ish

It started as most problems do in the mindscape—a sudden absence, a feeling that something was missing. Something, someone, who really knew anymore? With Roman gallivanting off to his room every odd day to fight another dragon witch, his booming voice was rarely missed so much as endured when it was present. Logan, research in hand, was oft to chain himself to a desk and not back away until his eyes were burning, eyelids heavier than his textbooks. Patton, so concerned with keeping everything together among the other three, rarely had a chance to shut himself away for some peace and quiet, no no no, his responsibilities were too great. But one day, one certain day that had no peculiar charm nor supernatural air about it, his duties felt… shorter, somehow. There was less to be taken care of, but Patton could not for the life of him tell you why. At least, not until the gaping hole demanded it be noticed, not until it was screaming so hard and so loud, Patton might well have gone deaf in its efforts. The only problem with it being so loud and so insistent lies within its very nature—this absence is not the sort to announce itself, so much as it is the type to slink away quietly, to duck out when nobody’s looking. Maybe this is why Patton initially seeks out Roman to inquire about his relaxed day. Maybe this is why Logan didn’t set down his research quickly enough. Maybe this is why they were too late.

“Hey there, kiddo,” Patton says one unremarkable morning, knocking gently on Roman’s door. The emptiness down the hall screams bloody murder, all consuming to each of Patton’s senses. Maybe this is why Patton is too disoriented to realize that, for once, Roman isn’t the source of the noise. Maybe this is why Roman cautiously eases the door open, one hand resting on the hilt of his blade, only to be met with the concerned face of the moral side.

“What’s up, Patton?” Roman replies, widening the door like screaming jaws as he lets his hand relax a bit from the sword. Not all the way, though.

“Something just feels off, y’know?” Patton struggles to put into words his feelings, his subconscious distracted by the cries and yells and shouts. “It’s as if the last few days have been really, I don’t know, simple? I haven’t had to do as much, and it just doesn’t feel right.”

“Can’t say I understand,” Roman apologizes. “Now if you’ll excuse me, there is a dragon witch I really must be off to see. If you could be so kind?”

“Yeah, yeah, of course,” Patton nods, backing out of the room as Roman draws his sword. Maybe the door closes too quickly for Roman to notice the strained look in Patton’s eyes, or the way he can’t quite seem to stop tugging his ear, like too much sound is being absorbed at once. Maybe the finality of Roman’s door slamming shut is what steers Patton away from what could have saved the absence.

    At Logan’s room across the hall, Patton doesn’t bother with knocking on the door that’s already ajar, instead walking straight through the impossibly clean room to the hunched figure in the chair. It jerks awake as Patton taps it lightly on the shoulder, revealing Logan huddled under a mass of blankets, his eyes swollen pits of red and grey from inadequate sleep. The same blanket is bunched around the base of his chair as when Patton put it there two nights ago.

    “What is it, Patton?” Logan demands, his eye twitching gently. Maybe it’s from overworking himself. Maybe he hears the cries, too. “I have very important work to be doing here, as you should very well know.”

    “Well, yes,” Patton admits, “but you look as if the only work you’ve been doing is catching up on the sleep you never get. I had something else to bring up with you, but, um,” he glances over at Logan’s pristine bed, looking as impeccable as if it had never been slept in before. Patton has a sneaking suspicion this might be the case, but maybe he’s just a little tired, too.

    “I have absolutely no requirement for such frivolous endeavours as sleep,” Logan scowls, disgust lacing every word. “You most of all should know that we hardly require any of that human nonsense, from sleep to hydration to food. With all of your silly baking festivities, I would expect you to have figured that out already.” Patton bites his lip before he can make some sort of joke out of the situation, knowing quite well that this isn’t the time. Maybe there’s never really a time to make a joke with any of them. Maybe the yells are in his head, and he just needs to let them pass over, like an angry storm cloud.

    In his own room, Patton takes a few deep breaths, desperate to let the warm lights in his room soak through his skin, make the noises go away. Why should he be desperate, anyway? He’s had so much extra time, he got to see everyone in the mindscape today! Roman, and Logan, and—and—and—and—

    The lights suddenly get brighter, too bright, as the yells crescendo, turning into shouts into screams then back into cries into sobs into whimpers into silence. Patton rubs his temples gently. Maybe he’s just overworked. Maybe he’s just exaggerating the problem. Lots of people hear things that aren’t there. You’re not a person, Patton. Patton knows this. He knows that he’s not human, that there’s no reason for baking or sleeping or drinking, but it’s all in good fun. All for enjoyment. The yelling is not enjoyment. He did not ask for the yelling. In fact, he would much prefer to have the yelling silence itself. Maybe he’ll go take care of it himself.

It’s impossibly cold out here

Way up on the highest tier

Why haven’t they come?

It’s all so numb

Why can you not recall the year?

    “Now where is that blasted dragon witch?” Roman mutters to himself, stalking silently through the cattail reeds, sword drawn. Itching for something, anything, to fight, Roman lashes out at a blade of grass in front of him. Before he can mow it down, the noise returns. Quite obnoxious, to be frank, but indelible nonetheless. It skewers through his skull, screaming as his sword swings, stopping it short to smack the grass blade and allowing the green spike to swipe back at him, scratching the side of his face. Louder, louder, the noise mumbles and moans and mourns and Roman must move on, make more progress meeting his maker in the scaled madam making her monstrosities as Roman remains in the reeds. The noise gets louder. Roman chops through the sea of grass. The screams cut across his clothes, criss-crossing so crassly the prince can almost catch the cutlass in his hand.

    Somewhere ahead, a dragon roars, undercut by a woman’s scream. Not a damsel in distress. This damsel is the distress. Damn. Roman throws his arms over his head, squeezes his biceps, anything to make that screaming shut up. Not enough. He backs carefully out of his room, head pounding, sword thrown haphazardly in its scabbard, and the whole package is tossed into the reeds. That’s a problem for later. Roman’s head pounds harder, hurting, hurts oh God help him he heaves with his hands on his knees hearing every helpless howl hammering through his head help him please help.

    In the lounge, the furthest room possible from the yelling screaming cursing crying, Roman collapses upon a couch. Something under his back, sharp and prodding, makes him sit up. A pair of bulky headphones. Now where on earth could these have come from? Regardless of the reason, Roman slips them over his ears, expecting some sort of punk song to carry him away, tuning out the cries for help.

    Why though? Why does he expect a punk song to come on? He doesn’t even know where these headphones came from, any more than he can explain away the screaming that grows ever louder. Why is it so. Loud?

    “Oh thank gosh Roman you’re out here,” Patton sighs in relief, stumbling into the lounge area with one fist curled against his head. Worry lines etch themselves into his face, deeper than if they’d been there for years. Replacing something else that was there for years. Or never there. “Why are you just sitting down? I’d expect you to at least be doing something exciting.”

    “I am, I’m listening to the—the head—the headphones—the headphones.” Roman’s voice trips over itself, warping and warbling, where were the headphones why wasn’t he holding the headphones was he ever holding the headphones why weren’t they there when were they there?

    “Okay buddy, whatever you say,” Patton smiles, not seeming to notice the little… we’ll call it a glitch… in Roman’s system. “Want some cookies?”

    “Don’t you do anything else besides bake?” Roman sneers. Something pushes at his mind, the yelling, thoughts, something, but it screams and cries to stop, not to get going on an argument he wants no part in. The yelling is louder. “Last I checked, we all had real duties to perform to help Thomas, and making cookies at the drop of a hat isn’t exactly a useful skill to a living person with real thoughts and feelings.” Roman gives Patton a once-over, suddenly standing—when did he stand up he was supposed to be sitting down—and continues, ignoring the hurt welling up in his companion’s eyes. “Oops, I guess that would imply that you, feelings, are real. My bad.” Stop it Roman stop hurting him stop it!

    “Right. I’ll just, um, I’m just gonna be over, y’know, somewhere that isn’t, uh, isn’t in here.” Patton rushes out, both hands pressed against his face now. Roman sags a bit, sitting standing sitting standing kneeling sitting standing sitting standing sitting sitting sitting sit still. Bounce bounce bounce back and forth between being everywhere and being nowhere and being everything in between. The screaming increases. Help.

It’s probably been but a day

You were always just in the way

They don’t know it’s you

Your screams coming through

Forgotten, you may as well stay

    “Honestly, how am I expected to get important work done for Thomas when I’m plagued by that infernal sound?” Logan mutters, whipping the blanket off of his back. Who does Patton think he is, intruding on Logan’s privacy like that without asking? The blanket is still in the way, rumpled in a heap over his feet, so Logan does the most logical thing he can think of—kicking it across the room, getting progressively more pissed each time it doesn’t cooperate by breaking the laws of physics. Is that really so much to ask?

    The blanket finally beaten into submission, Logan makes for the commons, a permanent grimace set upon his face as the yelling recedes behind him. Expecting a calm scene in which he can bask in silence, Logan is sorely disappointed by what greets him in the lounge; Patton staring at a wall, motionless, and Roman sitting standing sitting standing not holding still. How displeasing.

    “Have you two seriously lost your grip so easily?” Logan demands, freezing Roman in place and getting Patton to snap his head over. “Regardless of why this sound is occurring, we all need to work together to resolve it.”

    “All?” Roman asks. Patton echoes him, softer and more unsure.

    “Yes. All.”

    “But we aren’t all here.”

    “I can’t say I understand what you mean. You, me, and Patton. All.”

    “But that’s not, I mean, it isn’t like we just—”

    “Roman, I have never known you to fumble for words so largely as this,” Logan scolds. “All. Three of us. That is all. Now, if you’re done with whatever your situation is, we really need to get back to the task at hand—getting rid of that sound.” Roman casts his eyes down, face burning, but he’s finally sitting down, and staying that way. The cries get louder.

    “Patton, care to share your input?” Patton mutters something about the days being easier, the same spiel he fed Logan not long before. “Not that. Something useful would be nice.” Patton quiets, biting his lip. A tinge of something, regret perhaps, floods through Logan for a split second, but just as quickly, it vanishes.

    “Okay. Alright. What’s missing?” Logan tries. His glasses slip down his nose. He does not adjust them.

    “It’s really loud,” Roman offers, “so it must have been important.”

    “Then why can’t I remember it?” Patton hisses, gripping his forehead tightly. His fingers go white. Louder.

    “Maybe it was just annoying, and this is its lingering irritation,” Logan says.

    “It’s down at the end of the hall with our rooms,” Patton begins, flinching at nearly every word. Too loud. Make it stop. “Maybe we could investigate down there?”

    “I second it,” Roman replies. “It’s as good a place to start as any.” As one, not dissimilar to a hive mind, the trio rises—when did Logan sit down?—and move toward the screeching. Ice cold laces through their blood, frozen fingers creeping down their backs as their ears seem to split. If you asked them later, none of the three could tell you whether their feet walked them down the hall, or the room pulled itself closer, using their agony as a grappling point. Louder. Deafening. One way or another, they arrive at the screaming door, vibrating from the noises coursing through it, all amplified by the door itself. The bravest of the bunch, Roman, cowers in fear. He’s not about to touch that monstrosity. The brain of the bunch, Logan, knows in his mind that the door can’t really hurt him. He does not reach for the handle. Patton. Patton stretches a hand, fingers trembling as the sound leaps across the axons and the dendrites to his nails and skitters through his bones, weaving between muscles and fat to fill him up until he’s gasping, choking, overflowing. Patton opens his mouth to let it escape, and the screeching heightens. Louder. Louder. LOUDER.

    Screaming and crying and shouting and moaning all at once, Patton wrestles the door handle down and presses forward, first with the handle, then his other hand, and his shoulder and his foot and Logan and Roman join in, pounding the door that refuses to give way to their attacks on it.

    The handle shatters in Patton’s hand.

    The screaming stops.

    A soft sigh takes its place.

    Then silence.

They’re actually trying to look

All because your voice is a hook

Here you remain

Your ears unstained

Maybe now you should close the book

    Patton glances at the shards of metal in his hand, then back to Logan and Roman. He’s so stunned, he almost can’t feel the edges digging into his skin, feel the tiny red pearls beading at the surface. He holds them tighter, trying desperately to hold onto what the three all realized before it can vanish again.

    Virgil.

    We forgot Virgil.

    “Patton, your hand,” Roman murmurs, looking at the offending body part that refuses to let go of the handle, refuses to let go of what he can’t believe he forgot. Maybe he doesn’t deserve to remember.

    “We need to get that wrapped up,” Logan adds. He takes Patton gently by his free hand, pulling him down the hall toward the commons, where they keep a few first aid kits, just in case.

    We forgot Virgil.

    Suddenly, Patton is in the commons, barely wincing as Logan carefully wraps bandages around his hand, Roman extracting the shards of metal as he goes. Maybe each stab is a fraction of what Virgil felt.

    We forgot Virgil.

    Maybe Virgil forgot them.

    Patton looks on blankly as Logan finishes, gently tightening the wrapping and tying it off. “We need to help him,” he mumbles. Logan waves it off, checking the floor for any lost metal pieces. “We need to help him.”

    “We need to figure out why he’s gone first,” Logan retorts. “We don’t know why he left, and we don’t want to make it worse. At least it’s finally quiet.”

    We forgot Virgil.

    “Yeah, remember how we left it last?” Roman cuts in. Patton shakes his head.

    “It all kind of went foggy right up until that screaming.” Virgil’s screaming.

    “There was an argument,” Logan begins.

    “Thomas was having a social problem,” Patton continues.

    “He was worrying,” Roman fills in.

    “We told him off.”

    “He went silent.”

    “Didn’t even fight back.”

    “Sank out.”

    “No sarcasm.”

    We forgot Virgil.

    “We need to help him.”

    “We still only have the vaguest of reasons for his disappearance,” Logan says. “We cannot afford to make it any worse, if this is the least we’ve seen of what is involved with a missing Virgil.” A missing Virgil. A thing to be fixed. Not a friend to be found.

    “Maybe the room will tell us,” Patton whispers. Grasping at straws. Anything.

    We forgot Virgil.

    “Right, the room that shattered the thing you need to get inside of it. Brilliant, Patton, truly a work of genius,” Roman sneers, bouncing between sitting and standing again.

    “Not the time for attitude,” Logan reprimands. “It’s the only idea we have to go off of, so we may as well, given the lack of success shown by ignoring the noise.”

    “Not noise. Virgil.” Patton sniffles.

    We forgot Virgil.

    Patton is the first to rise and head for the door with no handle, now a deafening silence in contrast to the aching screams of earlier. Logan follows, all efficiency and strategy, despite the fact that no one is really sure what to do next.

    “Even if we find out why he’s missing, that won’t bring him back,” Roman complains. “Besides, do we really need the Edgelord back?” Patton clenches his undamaged fist in an effort not to do something he’ll regret later.

    Through gritted teeth, he spits, “of course we need him back. He’s one of us.”

    With no small amount of discomfort in the air, the trio makes their way to the silent door, each peering down and squishing in to try to see through the hole left by the door handle.

    Only gaping space beyond.

You know, it’s really not so bad like this

They claim to regret, yet remain remiss

You like being alone

This could be a home

This is how you leave, vanished like a wisp

    “Move aside,” Roman orders, stepping back with his sword drawn. Patton and Logan leap out of the way of the door as Roman charges. He raises his sword, giving a battle cry, and barrels forward.

    The door opens.

    Roman’s momentum carries him through, swinging his sword regardless as the door slams shut behind him. Patton and Logan remain outside.

    His sword goes flying into an endless abyss of stars and blackness. The red sash across his white attire tightens, constricting and squeezing like a viper before completely tearing off at the shoulder. Now a limp ribbon, it follows the sword into nothingness.

    “What’s going on?” Roman attempts, but his voice is too hoarse, too small, lost in everything and nothing. The world around him seems to expand by the second, nothingness multiplying by nothingness exponentially. Silent.

    Where is Virgil?

    Sound.

    Behind him.

    Roman turns to where the door is—was. Gone. Above it, a strip of nothingness with no stars in it. A silhouette against the shining lights. Roman blinks, shakes his head, blinks again, and he’s suddenly beside the silhouette, looking out at an endless expanse of space. He turns his head.

    Virgil.

    Before Roman can open his mouth, offer an explanation, ask for a reason, Virgil punches him in the face.

    Hard.

    Roman goes down.

    Hard.

    Virgil disappears, and the world splinters.

    And shatters.

    “Just shut up! Thomas doesn’t need you dragging him down like this!”

    “I hate to say it, kiddo, but Roman’s right. You really don’t need to be so… much.”

    “Indeed, your excessive overtime is dragging all of us down with you. Don’t you suppose you might feel better if you were to, perhaps, lay low? Stay quiet?”

    They’re always demanding your silence

    They never consider emotions violence

    Their words will bite

    Don’t put up a fight

    Just seclude yourself on your islands

    “Too good to talk back? Come on Virgil, where’s that dry wit? Hit me with it! Hit me!”

    “Roman, don’t taunt him. We don’t want him to get worse.”

    “It may not be in our best interest to discuss this in front of him.”

    You think your words aren’t ringing

    Hatred in their bite stinging

    But please have no fear

    I’ll soon not be here

    Not even a bell left dinging

    “I wish he’d just leave, we’d all be better off and he knows it.”

    “Now Roman—”

    “I don’t think you should—”

    “I hate him.”

    Roman blinks again, finally remembering.

    Why did he say that? It was a moment of weakness and stupidity, and he wants nothing more than to take it back. A little hard to do, given that Virgil is nowhere to be seen. Just space. The vast sky. And Roman. Alone. No sword. No sash. No purpose. What did you do?

    “I just want to know one thing,” a voice whispers, coming from every direction at once. Impossibly quiet, to the point that Roman has to strain to hear it. “Why did you say it?” The drawling, apathetic tone, in a voice otherwise identical to his own, it has to be Virgil.

    “I didn’t mean it, it was just the heat of the moment, I swear—” Roman babbles.

    “I didn’t ask for excuses. I asked for a reason.”

    “I don’t have one! Because I’m stupid, okay? That’s why.”

    “Unfortunate.”

    Roman waits with bated breath for the voice to come back, even just to yell at him some more, anything but being alone in this room.

    Silence.

    Alone.

    Please come back.

    Waiting.

    Waiting.

    “I just wanted to see the stars.” Roman glances to the right—the voice actually had a concentrated source this time. “You all forgot me, but no one forgets the stars.” A constellation takes shape in the distance, a vague silhouette of Virgil, unless Roman is just kidding himself. “No one forgets you.”

    Before he can respond, Roman watches the world fall apart again, depositing him on the ground in an endless white space. He can’t tell where the walls end and the ceiling begins. The only thing standing out in this room, besides himself, is the black lacquer door. Stabbed through its center is his sword, his red sash twined around it.

    The voice doesn’t come back.

    Roman yanks the sword from the door with little resistance, fixing the sash over his shoulder. The door swings open. Patton and Logan are gone. He heads for the common area. Logan’s nose is buried in a book, while Patton stands at the counter icing cookies.

    “Patton? Where’s, uh, where are your bandages?” Roman asks, looking at the hand that appears perfectly healed.

    “Weird joke, Roman. Is that the kind of humor that’s hip with the kids these days?” Patton twirls an icing bag in the air. “I can be hip.”

    “Logan, have you seen Virgil?” Roman asks as he moves out of the kitchen, leaving Patton to his cookies.

    “Seen whom?” Logan doesn’t look up from his reading.

    “Virgil! Anxiety? Hot Topic? Edgelord? J-Delightful?” Logan lifts an eyebrow and peers at Roman over his book.

    “I will admit to not often utilizing humor, but even I know that this is not it.”

    Roman leans against the back of the couch, suddenly unsteady as his mind is hit with too many thoughts at once. The most important one, the only one that truly matters, pierces his skull like so many unheard screams and cries.

    They forgot Virgil.

Tag List:

@sakurahayasaki @erlenmeyertrash @lemonpepperpizza @irish-newzealand-idian-dutch @milomeepit  /// im gonna tag some other people that didnt ask to be because everyone knows i c r a v e validation @asexual-trashbag @tinysidestrashcaptain @notafeeling @the-prince-and-the-emo @princeyandanxiety @fallingamor @prinxietys sorry if you didnt want to be tagged feel free to ignore this