#he WOULD fall in love just as badly as bee did for breakdown

[mrmeepsmadmind]

I SEE THE HOT SHOT SMASH OR PASS VOTING POLL IS OUT AND ID LIKE TO MAKE THIS THREAD KNOWN FOR WHY U SHOULD VOTE SMASH. I KNOW HE LOOKS LIKE A FAT ASS LEMON. AND HE IS. BUT HES MY FAT ASS LEMON AND I LOVE HIM.

thunder thighs barreling thru, excuse me !!!!

NOT ONLY IS HE THICK... BUT HE IS ALSO.. A COOL LAME YOUNG SINGLE MOTHER WHO KEEPS FALLING FOR DOOMED YAOI RELATIONSHIPS (WHEELJACK, SIDEWAYS, BLURR WHO DUMPED HIM WITH A N OTHER ANNOYING CHILD bcs he knew hot shot's maternal instincts were gonna fall for it anyway, STARSCREAM.. )

okay but the Bunda is also quite buoyant

hes just full of curves like ????

IT'S LIKE A HEART SHAPE LIKE ???? also his chest?? The chassis is??? Like... he's so cute..

dramatic ass

I LOVEEEEE SHORT GUYSSSSSS

blurr in the back doing fuck all, fking dead beat LOL

running away from his embarrassing dad. can u pls not combine and have weird gay interface in front of my friends. Bye.

angry ugly hamster

[dorianegraye]

Of Ferrets, Brunettes and Music

—The first time Draco had a piano lesson was when he was 5

—He had seen his mother play the piano in his father’s study before and was utterly fascinated

—So when he requested to learn the piano, his father didn’t show it but he was over-joyed that his son showed a liking to music

—The mentor they paid for was young, pretty and most importantly, extremely talented.

—Draco, being the absolute charmer he was, immediately made his teacher fall in love with him in the first lesson

—Who could blame her? Draco had been abnormally obedient and polite, and he showed real talent.

—At the end of the lesson, Draco asked Ms Fawley where she would be going next, and she informed him she was going home to teach her brother the drums.

—The drums?

—He really didn’t understand why Narcissa looked so horrified when he asked her about them

—That was until she explained that drums were “muggle-instruments”

—Throughout the years, he only learned piano, eventually besting Ms Fawley when he reached his third year at Hogwarts

—However, his mentor had to leave when he became a fifth year and his home started swarming with Death Eaters

—Draco wasn’t thick, he knew what was going to happen to him soon

—He was constantly on the verge of breakdown.

—And surprisingly, joining the Inquisitorial Squad didn’t help

—Capturing Potter and his gang worsened his mood

—He was in denial of the reason: the look Granger threw at him was full of disappointment and sorrow, and somehow something broke inside him

—The brunette had captured his attention since first year, and he had poured some of that emotion into his piano practising 

—Not that he would admit it

—And after that look, he needed his piano more than ever

—During classes he didn’t need to pay attention to, he was always composing. During the holidays, he could spend hours and hours shut away in his room strumming away on his piano, drenching every bit of depression and hollowness in his soul

—When he was forced to bear the dreadful mark, the piano just wasn’t enough anymore

—He needed something more carefree, something that broke through usual sequences 

—He had read about the exact thing he required when he was a young boy, before the monsters caught up to him

—Turns out the Room Of Requirement wasn’t used to offering muggle objects

—The set of drums in there was close to garbage, with extremely low quality

—It wasn’t even complete for Salazar’s sake!

—And even if it was complete and qualified, Draco didn’t have the time to learn it

—He was too busy worrying about his and his family’s life every day

—He almost vomitted and started sobbing right then and there when he overheard that the Dark Lord commanded his Death Eaters to kill Granger immediately when they invade Hogwarts to get to Potter

—Why did the bitch have to target Granger of all people? Why not Weasel-bee?

—He was sure he had gone bollocks when he walked into his room and destroyed his piano with his bare hands

—While he was punching away on the instrument, all he could think of was that Voldemort had learned his feelings for Granger every time he played said instrument, therefore targeting the brunette as a punishment to Draco

—He was suffocating, he needed to destroy. So he did, both the piano and himself

—His mother found him unconscious next to shards of wood, knuckles red with dried blood

—She hugged her son to her chest and sobbed hysterically

—Draco didn’t want to, but he found himself sitting with his fellow Slytherins in the great hall for the start of his eighth year after the war

—Everyone felt distant, throwing disapproving glances every time he walked passed them

—But what really drove him insane was Hermione Granger’s eyes

—They were full of sympathy, and he felt nauseous every time he saw them.

—No matter what, he was still a Malfoy, pity from a Gryffindor and a Muggle-born was unacceptable no matter what

—Though he had to admit that both of the facts no longer bothered him that much

—However, he destroyed his only connection to sanity two years ago, so if it weren’t for his cold mask, he would’ve broken down whenever the gossipers pointed at him and whispered ,”death eater”, “murderer”, “unworthy”, “why is Malfoy still here?”, “he should be rotting in Azkaban”

—There was one time he heard something pleasant from said gossipers though

—”I heard that the McGonagall bought in a set of drums to the Gryffindor common room.” “Yeah! I also heard that it’s best brand in the muggle world,” “Gryffindors and their priorities…”

—Draco found a way to learn a Gryffindor first year’s secret and threatened him to give the common room password with it

—He sneaked into the red and gold common room at three o’clock in the morning, finding a shiny new set of the percussion tucked in the corner

—He cast a Muffliato and started to play it, investigating the right way to strum it along the way

—He continued this action for two weeks, and to his frustration, he couldn’t seem to get it right

—”Mate,” Blaise said to him one day, “why are you always going to the library nowadays?” Draco rolled his eyes and spat,”what would I be doing? Planning murder? Knew you’d eventually think of me like that,” he stormed away, ignoring Blaise’s calls. 

—Truth is, he wasn’t really frustrated. He just couldn’t think of an excuse for reading muggle books on how to play the drums properly. His defense mechanism was being cold, and it worked again.

—The investigation made him oblivious to the change in Granger’s look towards him

—”What the hell are you doing?” Draco froze that fateful night Granger caught him in the common room.

—She was standing in front of the fireplace, the flames giving the right side of her face beaming light. Her hair was a nest, but he guessed it was only because she just woke up. Her curls started to change from frizzy to wavy during third year, and he had to admit he had fantasized running his fingers through them before…

—”I asked you a question Malfoy!”

—Defense Mechanism! “It’s none of your business,” he snarled

—Fuck it all! Why is she walking towards him?

—”Of course it’s my business, Draco,” why in Merlin’s name isn’t she in Slytherin? She had basically found his weak spot and poked right into it! “Just in case you haven’t noticed, this is the common room of my house. Besides, you’re playing it wrong.”

—What happened next baffled Draco so badly his jaw almost dropped open when Hermione Granger pushed past him and started playing the drums. Her eyes were concentrated, her hands holding the drumsticks and strumming in all the right places at the right time, like it was as easy as performing magic with her wand. It looked as if drum-playing was her second nature.

—He really had no idea why he had ended up sneaking into the Gryffindor common room the following days at 3am not to discover the ways to play the drums on his own, but going to Hermione’s lessons

—He didn’t know when they started to address each other by their first names, probably after the awkward morning when he blushed as red as Weasel’s hair when he apologized for all the mean things he had done to her.

—”Does it still hurt Hermione?” Draco asked 2 months after they started their lessons, “the scar?”

—She bit her lower lip and lowered her head, causing him to lower his head too to see her expression

—”Yes,” she breathed,”yes it does.” Draco felt his insides churn with guilt. “I’m sorry that I just stood there,” he turned his head to look at the fireplace, not daring to meet the brunette’s eyes, for he was sure he would grow speechless once he saw those pools of chocolate, “I don’t deserve any of this.”

—Slowly, Hermione took his hand in her own and slid up his sleeve, Draco felt his breath hitch, now even more afraid to look at those pretty eyes.

—Hermione Granger never failed to surprise. Once the ugly mark—His Mark, the Dark Mark—entered her sight, she bent her head and kissed it.

—Tears tumbled down his face as Hermione shushed him and wiped the droplets. She was the only one who understood him in the whole world. She was an amazing observer, and Draco knew if he didn’t hide anything in his eyes, she’ll know what message he wanted to deliver to her.

—”I play piano too you know,” of course he knows, he had observed her fingers for two months now. “If you learn the drums, we could start a little band of our own!” She broke into a smile, adjusting her body to face him. “We could travel around the world, bringing light to all the damaged souls…”

—His lips crashed into hers, pouring every bit of his passion into the action. How can someone be so perfect? Fuck, even her lips were perfect. Soft, plump…

—Hermione pulled away to gasp for air, and Draco would’ve apologized for his recklessness if the brunette didn’t grasp onto his blond hair and kissed him again.

—If Heaven existed, he was sure that it would be Hermione kissing him all day long. 

—Blaise was utterly puzzled when Draco was almost sprinting the day after.

—He didn’t know what happened to Draco, but as long his friend was happy, he didn’t mind totally minded

—He was a Slytherin, wasn’t determination one of the traits?

—He found out why in a broom cupboard, his eyes almost popping out of their sockets when he witnessed Draco Malfoy snogging the daylights out of HERMIONE BLOODY GRANGER.

—”Fuckity fuck Blaise, what the hell are you doing here?”

—”What the fuck did I just see???”

—Unfortunately for our dear Blaise Zabini, it wouldn’t be the first time he witnessed Draco and Hermione crashing lips

—However, he couldn’t be happier for his friend when Draco, clad in his black suit, kissed Hermione Malfoy in front of Potter and Weasel, their fuming faces ignored by the round of applause that came afterwards

—True to her word, Hermione did start a little band after her wedding, which wasn’t little at all after three months of its formation

—The Malfoys’ band was called “Of Ferrets, Brunettes and Music”

end 

ϟ pls pls pls DO NOT REPOST, I spent a whole afternoon writing this so plzz don’t break my heart. Thank you so much to those who’ve read this k baii ϟ

[musicphanpie-b]

Highway To Hell

This is a fic dedicated to my dear friend Mercy for her birthday! @lostin---translation I poured my soul into it, so hopefully, you’ll enjoy it! :) (This is a pre-fic of Welcome To My World Of Fun, written by Mercy. ) Summary: Logan failed a mission and Roman punished him, and giving him a new one that will change his life. Warnings: torture, blood, emotional manipulation, unhealthy relationship, implied deaths, implied suicidal thoughts (please let me know if I have missed any) @imin-loveanon

The heavy metal door was pushed open and Logan flinched at the horrible long screech. A figure walked into the dungeon and Logan tensed up, unconsciously twisting his wrists bound above his head by a rope.

The king approached slowly and stepped out of the shadow into the small circle of light provided by a single light bulb on the ceiling. He had been through this a hundred times, knew by heart what Roman was going to do to him. But yet, a small part of him still hoped, dreamed of Roman letting him off the hook. Maybe that was why he looked into Roman's eyes, looking for softness, forgiveness.

It was a mistake.

Roman's face was calm, but his eyes were anything but that. Logan could see the fury, the sheer rage amid the brown. He knew he should look away, should feign obedience, because Roman would love that, love when his victims screamed and cried and begged, then choked to death with blood gushing out of their freshly opened necks. But Logan was not just some random person, so he kept staring.

Roman smiled, raising his right hand to stroke Logan's cheek." Do you know how much I love you, Logan?" Logan fought to keep a straight face, to pretend that he was not liking Roman's gentle touch, wasn't thirsting after it.

"Yes, my king," Logan replied after a few strokes. He would say that he didn't answer right away because he was in shock, but his legs weren't trembling. His heartbeats quickened but his breaths remained collected. The heat of Roman's hand sucked him in, taking him out of reality.

He should have known the drill by now. But he still got lost in the moment, his brain creating delusional thoughts, and he let his eyes fluttered shut. Second mistake.

The hand slid away and came back down with a slap, hard. The sound of skin connecting with skin echoed harshly across the dungeon. Then he registered the pain, heat spreading through his entire left cheek like bee stings.

"Then you should know how much I hate it," Roman started stroking his throbbing cheek again and he shuddered against his will," when you fail to do what I ordered."

It should not feel good, yet it did. He could fight back, could scream at Roman to let him go, could list off how many things he had accomplished for the king, could say how many secret meetings of the rebellion he had struck. But he didn't because a sick, twisted part of him wanted it. Needed the attention like oxygen. He felt like vomiting, mind pulling him in two opposite directions."I am sorry." He answered, staring at the muddy ground.

"You're not," Roman roughly pulled Logan's head back with a tight grip of hair," You disappoint me." He spat out each word with malignancy, leaning close to the other man's face until Logan could feel the king's breath.

Logan bit his lips to keep the whimper at bay, pretending his vision wasn’t becoming blurry. Roman smirked and released his hair, then gave his reddened cheek a firm pat. Logan's head dropped again, his defiance wearing away while he watched as Roman walked over to a side table, a long roll of torture weapons openly displayed like proud treasures. His heartbeat spiked despite having been in the same position for countless time already, the adrenaline rushed in anticipation. A small part of him wanted to fight back, wanted to escape and run away because this is dangerous, but a bigger, more compelling part of him stopped his limbs from working. The king had taught him loyalty, he would not break the rules, he was better than this.

Roman swept his hand over the knifes and daggers and needles, all in different shapes and sizes." You are enjoying this, aren't you? Submitting to your king, being obedient, just like the good servant you are." His hand stopped on a samurai sword and Logan let out a small gasp. The blade brought him back to a few years ago, when he failed an assassination mission and came back empty-handed, Roman had been mad. That was the first time Roman used a sword on him, cutting and slicing without any mercy, eyes a raging storm and the whole dungeon became a battle zone with Roman’s punches and kicks. He could still recall the sight of red everywhere, body fluid and vomit mixed together on the muddy floor and the smell of revolting iron filling his nostrils. After that, Logan had sworn to himself to never fail again. Evidently, he couldn't keep his promise.

Roman chuckled seeing his reaction, looking up and down at the sword he just picked up, his reflection glinting off the shiny long blade." You still haven't answered my question, Logan."

Logan wriggled his wrists again, feeling the knot rubbed against his already tender skin. He contemplated the question, letting his mind wandered free as Roman finally tightened his hold on a thorn whip. Maybe he did, maybe he was drawn to the rush of thrill, the sense of pain, the tearing of the skin. Maybe it was what he deserved." Yes, I enjoy it." He gulped, bracing himself for what was to come.

Roman seemed amused by his answer, delighted even." Good." It was all he said when he returned to Logan's side, holding the thorn whip up, the last few inches of it long enough to lay flat on the ground, the whole length was covered in black rose thorns, packed and sharp. Logan gulped again.

Roman looked remorseful now." You have always been a useful asset, indispensable even. I have always treasured you, given you the best treatment out of all my advisers. And yet." He sighed, laying a hand on Logan's chest, stroking his bare neck exposed above the prison suit on him." I don't want to do this, Logan, but you've given me no other choice." When Logan looked up, he could see the frown, the pained expression, but he knew better than to be deceived by the king's flawless act. He knew his eyes were cold, calculating. He wanted to trick him, to give him hope, a taste of fondness, before taking everything away with a swing of his fist or anything he currently possessed.

Roman dropped the whip, a dull thump rang through the small room." I know you don't believe me, but trust me, Logan, you are my best one in the team," his cradled Logan's head with both hands gently," the smartest," a thumb wiped across his lip," the wittiest," a hand went down and circled his lower torso," and most importantly, you're mine to use," he pulled their bodies together, connecting them from chests down to their thighs. The air felt too thin and Logan almost couldn't catch his breath, too dizzy from the heat radiating off of Roman. The king’s left hand pulled their heads further closer until their lips were almost touching. His eyes roamed over Logan's face like a crazed predator looking over its prey, possessive.

He couldn't take it anymore." Stop," Logan murmured weakly," please."

Roman didn't move a muscle," why?"

Not breaking the eye contact, Logan replied," because you don't mean it." He let out a shaky breath, willing himself not to fall for the act like before, to hide his vulnerable feelings from this person in front of him.

"You're wrong," the other said, voice hoarse and tight. His whole brain was screaming at him not to believe it, to not fall for the game the king was playing, but a louder, foolish side of him did.

The king closed the distance between them and Logan leaned forwards, ignoring all the logical opposition. So when the king suddenly pulled away just before the kiss happened and laughed. Logan felt as though a big tub of ice-cold water was poured over him, drowning him, suffocating his every sense. His facade cracked and he felt tears welling up quick, his throat tightening and made him choke.

"Did you truly think that I would love you? Don't be silly," Roman bent down to pick up the weapon again," know your place, slave."

Logan didn't want this, didn't want to be played like this, didn't want to have something he had wanted for so long to be dangled in front of him and then snatched away in a split second. He let out a sob, god, he was pathetic.

The king didn't give any acknowledgment to Logan's breakdown, instead, he dragged the whip on the ground as he circled the bounded man." I used to love you, back when you were actually helpful, back when you actually treated me like a friend." Logan wanted to object so badly, wanted to say that 'no, I have always seen you as my friend, and even something more', but Roman continued." But now all you do is fail me, give me trouble to clean up after." Logan sobbed harder now, every word of disapproval acting like a knife to his heart.

"I-I'm sorry," Logan said through broken sobs," please forgive me." His emotions got the better of him and he gave up trying to keep his cold mask on. It all started with a mistake, an accident. It was during a celebration when Logan was a bit tipsy from the alcohol, when Roman was just too close, his intoxicating scent pulled Logan in without himself noticing, the next second he was kissing the king, holding onto his shoulders for dear life. And the next, the king had pushed him away and glared at him with disgust. Logan had scrambled off immediately and apologized the next day, blaming it on being drunk. But it was too late, the king saw through him like a wall of glass.

They had been on good terms. Roman had treated Logan well, almost as if he was one of the nobles even if he was just an adviser. There were discreet touches, hush whispers, silent staring, all the signs were there, or at least Logan thought so. He thought he could be something more than an adviser, something more than another tool in the chess game. Now he knew he was just another meaningless piece, expandable.

"Oh, love, please don't cry," the sweet tone came back again and Logan was too hurt to care about its validity. He needed comfort from Roman, needed affection, craved it as if it was a bandage to his bleeding heart. Roman wiped away his tears and shushed him." It's okay, I forgive you."

Something relaxed inside Logan, he let down his guard. Third mistake.

"But you have done something wrong, and you need to be punished." Roman said regretfully and Logan believed it like a moth chasing after a torch, because he didn't know what was real anymore, couldn't differentiate between lies and truths." I am only doing this for your own good. So that you won't make the same mistake again next time." Roman added, smiling a little.

"Th-thank you." Logan choked out, exhausted. He could taste salt on his lips and could see through blurry eyes that Roman was raising the whip, ready to swing down on him.

The thorns tore clothes apart and slashed skin opened. Once the whips started it never stopped, coming down again and again repeatedly, dragging the thorns in and out of his flesh. All Logan could do was scream.

After roughly an hour, Roman stopped swinging the whip and stepped back as if he was appreciating his handicraft. Logan was covered in cuts and wounds from arms to toes, irregular gashes were all over his torso and thighs, blood trailing down like small rivers, dripping down on the ground, which was the only sound in the dungeon besides Roman's rapid breathing.

Logan's eyes were half-closed, too exhausted to open them. For the whole time he had screamed out 'I'm sorry', 'please', begged for the pain to stop, asked for forgiveness. Within an hour, the king had reduced him from a highly-respected adviser to a crying, begging, poor excuse of a human. He would have laughed at the irony if not for the current state he was in.

After a few minutes, Roman calmed down again and regained his usual posture. He ruffled Logan's hair as if he was appeasing the other. Logan was too tired to respond, his whole body numb from the immense pain inflicted by the earlier session. He felt a hand under his chin, tugging his head up.

"Logan, are you with me?" Roman said with concern. And when the other nodded, he continued," I need you to do something for me." He turned around and grabbed a pocket knife from the table, waving it in front of Logan's face and observed. He chuckled when Logan's eyes widened and he flinched back just enough for Roman to see. Gosh, he really loved what fear could do to people.

“You promised to bring me Patton within three days. Three days had passed, and I don’t see his head delivered to me.” Roman said, trailing the tip of the blade along Logan’s chest, which was mostly bare and bloody with his clothes torn apart by the whip.

Logan’s breath hitched watching the short knife dance near his heart.” Give me one more chance, I can do it this time.” He knew Roman had killed numerous staff just because they displeased him by making simple mistakes, so asking for mercy was the only option left for him.

“Why should I trust you?”

He had not calculated the chance of him dying on Roman’s hands, but that changed now.

Roman seemed to sense his thoughts. “Don’t worry, I won’t kill you. You still have much potential.” Roman retrieved the knife,” I don’t doubt your unwavering determination in following my orders, so I believe there is another reason behind this failed mission.”

Logan thought hard, trying to predict what the king was about to make him do.

“I can’t help but think that you’ve gone soft. Years of not being on the battlefield had hindered your horizon, stopped you from fully unleashing your inner beast. Mundane duties could not train your practical skills. I imagine you have got bored with not getting your hands on something, or rather, someone, haven’t you?”

Oh god, no no no no no no-

“So, this time, before I force the information out of Patton, I want you to do it first,” Roman seemed to get excited just from talking about it,” the first time is always the best.”

Putting another human soul through what he had just experienced? That was the furthest thing Logan wanted to do, but he didn’t have a choice. Also, Patton...

“Yes, I will do it.” It sounded final, not just to this ordeal, but to Logan’s life and that little shred of morality left in it.

“Good. I look forward to you bringing me the good news.” Then he left, dropping the pocket knife carelessly without untying him or even a goodbye.

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

With great difficulty, Logan pulled his hands free, his wrists raw to the point of almost bleeding. He started to take a few steps, but the pain caused him to wobble and he fell to the ground, hitting himself on the side table in the process.

The small three-inch blade on the ground was the only thing that was remotely clean in this place, and it seemed like the only way out, for Logan to leave this place with the last shred of dignity. But he didn’t let the intrusive thought linger, instead, he pushed himself up again and leaned on the table for support. He had work to do.

He left the castle without changing his clothing, capturing Patton was the only thing on his mind. This was so unlike him to not have a plan before acting, but who was he anymore? A lap dog, a slave, or a punching bag? Deep down, he knew he was none of these things. He started to head towards the forest with no clear direction.

His whole body was burning in agonizing pain to the point he was numb to it. The chilly air further numbing his skin. If anyone caught sight of him, they would think that he was attacked and immediately help him, that would make it a good opportunity to capture them. He ran, determination pushing him forward. Maybe he would bleed to death before he reached the secret camp of the rebels, but once again, he didn’t care anymore.

After what felt like hours of limping, a clearing in the middle of the forest came into view, along with three small tents around a small burning fire. He looked a bit harder and noticed that no one was here. For some reason, he was relieved at this, glad that no one would become his victim.

But that changed soon, as a man wearing a grey linen kilt and a blue scarf came out of the tent in the middle. Go back, Logan wanted to say as he turned around, not wanting to be seen, but it was too late.

“Logan?! Where have you been?” Arms grabbed his own and he flinched. Patton pulled his hands back, then saw the blood covering them. His expression turning worried.” Oh god, Logan, what happened to you?”

Patton looked like he was close to tears and Logan wanted nothing more than to go back to where he came from, to end everything back on that dirty floor of the cell. Because as much as he wanted to deny this, Patton was his best friend, and he was about to-

“Please tell me! Are you alright? Who did this to you?” Logan could practically hear the tears in his words, and his heart clenched.

“I am fine-”

“No, you’re not! Y-you are covered in blood!”

“I-” All of the sudden he felt the world rotating and he fell, then strong arms caught him and he was lowered to the ground gently by Patton, who sat down and hugged him against his chest. At that moment, he felt love for the first time since everything fell apart. Patton was everything good in this world, and he was holding Logan, who was anything but good. He had hurt everyone around him, he was poison, a monster. He should have done it in the cell, should have picked up the knife and end everyone's misery.

“Hey, hey, don’t cry, it’s alright, you’re safe now.” No, I am not, and neither are you.” Just tell me who did this to you, they will pay for it.” Patton reassured solemnly.

Logan was just a puppet, strings pulling his every move, and at last, he would be left to crash and burn, no one would miss him. There was nothing he could do, he was entirely on someone else’s hands, and he was done fighting, done trying to pretend he was doing the right thing, done trying to protect the ones he cared about. Because when Roman picked him up from the street ten years ago, when Roman took him from living with rats and sewage into living in the castle, his life was ended, ripped from him before he even noticed. From the moment Roman assigned him to be his adviser, everything was taken away, and he was naive to even dare to think that he could still do something with his life. He should never have befriended Patton, because he was the villain in this story, and everyone he had known would be dragged into the hellfire with him.

Patton was about to die, because of him, and he decided that he owed him at least some honesty.” It was Roman.”

Patton’s eyes widened,” How did the king catch you? You said you were just going out to guard this place!”

The funny thing about heartache was that once it got too much, once it felt like you had run out of air and you could die from it, it stopped. Your mind would protect you from it by completely shutting off your emotions, and it turned you into a robot so that you would not suffer anymore.

“One of the royal guards caught me.” Logan replied.” Is anyone else here?”

“No, they were all out for more resources for this mission.”

“Perfect.”

“What do you mean-”

Before Patton could finish his sentence, Logan had smashed his head against the tree trunk next to them, and Patton immediately went unconscious.

As he was carrying Patton back to the castle on his shoulders, he pondered the question once more. The forest was completely quiet, the full moon put an eerie silver hue over his surrounding, making him think of pairs of canine eyes and sharp teeth belonging to wolves. The darkness did nothing to clear his mind.

But after he arrived, after he put Patton in the cell he was in a few hours ago, and went to greet the king in a new set of clothes with long parts covering every inch of his body. He finally found his answer.

Patton was beginning to wake up, he walked in front of the man lying on the ground, Roman’s eyes boring into the back of his skull.

He finally knew as he tightened his hold on the knife, ready to cut into the man once he called his best friend.

He was nothing.

[1-800-sassy-mendes]

Haunted by Your Ghost part 3

Summary: You end up at the Mendes household and you talk to Karen.

a/n: ok well, idek what’s gonna happen in this one and i dont even have a summary when I started typing this. we’re all screwed. but thank you so much for the love for Haunted by Your Ghost. Pretty sure my dog is sick of listening to the actualy Haunted by Your Ghost song but it’s all good. Give me feedback!! I like to get requests but like it takes me a bit to write them, but I promise I’ll write it

masterlist / part one / part two

Your name: submit What is this?

“Y/n.” Karen exclaimed when she opened the door. You haven’t seen her in over a year, you have missed her too. 

“Karen,” You smiled nervously. “Uh, hi.” You didn’t know what you were doing here and why. You didn’t even plan, it seemed like your hands and feet just had a mind of their own and did what they just did. 

“Come in, love.” Karen smiled warmly at you, as if you didn’t break her son’s heart in pieces before. “It’s cold outside.” 

When you stepped foot in the Mendes household, the all familiar scent of fresh linen air freshener was calming to your senses. All four of the Mendes loved the Fresh Linen scent of those wax air freshener things. That gave you a nice thought that they haven’t changed. 

“How have you bee-” Karen was saying until you were interrupted by Aaliyah, running down the stairs and yelling something. Here she is, standing in the doorway of the living room. The Jeep’s keys on the floor. “Mom, I’m gonna go to sa--y/n.” Her eyes widened. 

“Hi, Aaliyah.” You waved awkwardly. She grabbed her keys from the floor and walked to you. The Jeep used to be Shawn’s, but he decided to give it to her once he decided it was time for a new car. You remembered the day very clearly. It was a great day for you and Aaliyah. Shawn agreed to let you drive the Jeep, for the first time ever, from Toronto to his parent’s house. While he drove his new luxury car to surprise them. 

“What are you doing here?” She sat down beside you on the couch. You were probably the last person she expected to be here. She was kind of giving you looks, as if she still couldn’t believe that you’re actually here.

“That’s the thing, I don’t know.” You laugh nervously. There was an awkward silence around the three of you. You looked around and saw that they never took down the pictures of you and Shawn, or the family pictures you were in. Your heart broke, and you couldn’t keep quiet. “You kept the photos.” 

“How can I forget?” You giggle, for the past hour, you’ve done nothing but cry and laugh with Aaliyah and Karen. You guys were talking about the past and what happened in those pictures. The whole world may have not known about you and Shawn, but to Shawn’s family, they knew everything about you.

“Oh, honey. Those were good times.” She smiled and took a sip of her wine. You look at Aaliyah who was all snuggled up, asleep, beside you. When you first became friends with Shawn, Aaliyah loved you. She would always curl up in between you and Shawn whenever you were over. No matter how old she got, you knew that she will always do that. “You know, she missed you. She was mad at you for a little bit, but she got over it.” 

You stroked Aaliyah’s hair while she slept. You have always done this every time she fell asleep snuggled up beside you. “I missed her too,” You smiled. You didn’t only miss Shawn, but his family too.

“Oh, I’m sure Shawn missed you too, love.” You immediately looked at Karen, did you say what was in your thoughts out loud?

You gave her a small smile, “Oh, I doubt that.” You chuckle nervously. You have heard the song, but the fact that he slept around in that time still haven’t slipped your mind. 

“Have you heard the song?” You nod. “Anyone who knows about your past relationship would definitely know it was about you, honey. He didn’t have to say it on the radio that it was about an ex-girlfriend of his.” Karen smiled at you. 

You shifted a little bit in your seat, making Aaliyah squirm a little bit. You look at her, and you see her resemblance to Shawn. She looks so much like Shawn, specially when she’s asleep. Your heart skipped a beat, you didn’t know it was possible to miss someone this much. “He didn’t seem to miss me over his break. He seemed to have had a lot of fun during that time.” 

“He only did what he did to fill up the empty void that you left him with.” Karen didn’t skip a beat telling you that, you never thought about it that way till now. This was the first time you ever talked to anyone about this, you were being selfish again, of course. “You know, he was gonna marry you. He had it all planned out, he even had your dad’s permission too, but he misplaced the ring. According to Andrew, after you left, Shawn found it. Andrew, Ian, and Matt found him staring at the ring. They tried to get him to stop staring at the ring, but to no avail. After a little bit, he gave up the ring. We were so sure he was gonna try to get you back, but all of the sudden, he just fell into the deep hole. Something flipped his switch, and he was back in the studio. And here he is, released a new song.” Karen had this look on her face, she looked proud of him. She has always been. Shawn and Aaliyah are very lucky to have her as a mom.

All this information, it was new to you. You had to take a big gulp of the wine that Karen had given you. I’m such a crybaby, you thought as you let the tears fall again. You were quick to wipe them off. Karen kept on telling you more about what she knew. Next thing you knew, you were bawling your eyes out. Your mind made up on what you want. 

A couple hours later, Manny came and got Aaliyah into her own bed. While you and Karen stayed in the living room, talking and sipping wine. The night went on and it was very late when you got finished talking. There was no way Manny and Karen was gonna let you drive home in your state right now. She insisted on you sleeping over, and you agreed. You couldn’t be alone right now. You were drunk on wine and missing Shawn. That sounds like a disaster. 

“Uh,” You stare at Shawn that was standing on the side of the bed, in his parent’s guest room. “Morning?” You had a killer headache, and the fact that your ex was right there kind of woke you up. 

He smiled awkwardly and handed you a glass of water he was holding. Oh, how you missed that smile. You also was not expecting to see it the day after you had a breakdown with his mom. “It’s 2:46pm.” 

“Oh.” You sipped from the glass of water he gave you. It was pretty late when you decided to crash. You didn’t know Shawn was coming home today, or you would’ve left early or not drink that wine at all. 

“Only you would get drunk on wine with my mom,” Shawn shook his head. “Only y/n.” He arrived at noon and saw your car in the drive way, where you always parked. He had to make sure himself that it was you, and it really was. He immediately found out what you did last night from his parents. He can’t deny that it warmed his heart, because it did. He was just gonna leave you a glass of water. He wasn’t expecting for you to wake up. He didn’t know how to act, so ended up making a joke.

He turned around to leave but you stopped him, you even surprised yourself that you had the courage to say this. “Shawn,” He turned around and raised his eyebrows. He didn’t act like it, but he was nervous. “Can we not pretend that nothing happened and joke around? Can we talk? Talk about us.”

Shawn’s face said it all. He wanted to talk too, but you saw the fear flash in his eyes. “Y/n, what is there to talk about? You said you were tired and you left.” Your heart sunk with his words. 

He continued to proceed to leave, you decided to say something that you knew you have always wanted. “Shawn, I want you back.” That made him freeze in his tracks. “I was selfish, I should have never left. I had everything and I wanted more. It was perfect that the world didn’t know about me. It was okay that we couldn’t go out in public like a real couple, I preferred being with you or your family or friends in private.” 

Shawn didn’t turn around. He just stood there, frozen. Unsure of what to do. He sure as hell wanted you back too. But he knew he couldn’t give back in easily, you have hurt him so bad. He was scared that he will get hurt that badly again. He still loved you, he always had, the ring in the pocket of his jeans, that he’s been carrying around, proved that. He wanted to jump into the bed beside you and cuddle with you the moment he walked into the room. 

He sat on the recliner that was in the corner of the room. “Let’s talk.” He was ready to hear what she said, ready to ask the questions he’s had, and more importantly, he wanted to see if she really would take him back. 

“I now pronounce you husband and wife, you may kiss the bride.” You smile at your husband, it took you guys so long to be where you are now. 

He pulled you closer slowly, and leaned in to kiss you, “I love you.” He whispered before pressing his lips on yours. You were together in a short, but passionate kiss. Once you pulled away from each other, all of the guests applauded and cheered. 

Your eyes roamed around, spotting the tall guy with brown eyes and a mop of brown curly locks. He grinned at you and your husband, happy that you guys ended up together. 

“Congrats, Mr. and Mrs. Camick!” Shawn came to you and your husband, during the reception, and gave you both a big hug. “Y/n, you better not hurt Matt like you hurt me. He deserves the best.” Shawn joked around. You and your husband, Matt laughed.

“Oh, Shawn. Let’s not pretend I didn’t see you crying during my vows.” You joke back. It’s been a few years since you got drunk on wine with Karen and woke up to Shawn standing beside the bed. You decided to just be friends and see where it’ll take you both. For you, it took you to Matt. 

“Okay, you got me there.” Shawn smiled. “I just can’t believe my two best friends just got married to each other.” 

“Man, you’re working too hard. Maybe if you loosened up a bit, you’ll find the one too.” Matt smiled at you and pulled you closer to him. After deciding you were just gonna be friends, Shawn worked harder than ever. His career is at it’s highest peak. Even higher than where he was when he was seventeen.

Shawn walked away from you and your husband after getting called to something. He surprised you and Matt by singing the song of your first dance as husband and wife. 

Seeing your head on one of his best friend’s shoulder, while he sang the first song for you guys, Shawn was very happy for you guys. If somebody told him a few years ago that this would happen, he would have just laughed at them. At one point in his life, he saw himself being in Matt’s place. 

You had a powerful impact in his life, you may not have been his first love, but he certainly will always love you. He probably wouldn’t be where he is now if it wasn’t for you. He would always be haunted by your ghost, even if you were happily married to his best friend. 

[dearophelia]

carry me close like the teardrops in your eyes

“You,” Liam says, “are not fine.”

Victoria/Liam/Jaal (established relationship). Spoilers for “Hunting The Archon,” but not anything else. ~2300 words, PG. Angst, emotional hurt/comfort, and a lot of hugs.

Also on AO3

***

Victoria ignores the door chime, for the fourth time. She’s nearly run out of pillows to throw at the door, as if that would get them to leave. She has one pillow left, but she’s hiding in it.

“Ryder, Liam and Jaal are outside your quarters. They appear to not be dissuaded by your silence.”

An image comes to mind, of the two men sitting on the deck, setting up camp in front of her door. She wonders whether they’d break out the salarian opera to wear her down, and then decides she’d rather not find out. “Let them in,” she says, voice muffled in her pillow.

The door swishes open and shut, and then the lock activation chirps. Footsteps, a pause, and then footsteps again. The bed shifts slightly as they sit on either side of her, and she hears them set the thrown pillows back where they belong.

She doesn’t move. She needs a few more minutes with her face shoved into a pillow. Jaal’s hand settles on her lower back, warm and soft and comforting, while Liam gently, soothingly, rubs her shoulders.

She feels a lot like just giving in and crying.

“You,” Liam says quietly after a few minutes, “are not fine.”

Of course she isn’t - she only said that so she could get out of the briefing room as quickly as possible. She’d made a bee-line for her shower, scrubbed herself nearly raw, and then sat on the floor with her knees to her chest while three days’ worth of her hot water rations beat down upon her shoulders. She’d put her favorite lotion on afterward - something she found in Aya’s markets that smells remarkably like lemonade - but the attempt to make herself feel even the tiniest bit better only served to steal what little remained of her energy. She smells good, but her hair’s still wet, though it’s mostly stopped dripping now.

“Nope,” Victoria says, not even bothering to put up a fight about it. She takes a deep breath and pushes herself up, sitting. Even the smallest motion causes her head to spin, and she blinks away the vertigo, wishing she’d thought to grab some toast before collapsing. Rubbing at her eyes - she probably has pillow lines creased into her cheeks - she tucks her bare legs underneath her and shrinks into her sweatshirt. She’d managed underwear and a sports bra, plus the Initiative sweatshirt, but, like drying or even braiding her hair, pants were just too much work.

Jaal shifts closer, settling his arm around her waist, but she pulls away. As much as she wants a hug right now - as much as she needs a hug right now - she isn’t sure she can take one. Not without completely falling apart. She’s certainly earned a bit of falling apart, but she isn’t quite ready; she isn’t sure how far she’d fall.

“They tore them apart,” she whispers, voice shaky, unsteady. Staring out the window at the stars, she avoids looking at either of them. The screams of the salarians echo inside her mind, loud and tortured and sad. Desperate. They traveled all the way here for the innocent promise of a new future, left everything they loved behind, only to be violently ripped apart by a madman the moment they woke up. She sniffles and wipes at her eyes.

“And you died,” Liam says, when she doesn’t say any more. Jaal murmurs his assent. Pain threads its way through their voices - those three words hurt to say, hurt to think about. They heard the same logs she did, saw the same things she did, and yet unlike her, neither the logs nor the mangled dead bodies will keep them up tonight. SAM needing three tries to restart her heart will.

Victoria draws her knees to her chest. “Oddly,” she says, “that isn’t bothering me too much.” She suspects if she hadn’t played those logs, if Raeka hadn’t called her, if she hadn’t fought a half-exalted krogan, if, if, if - rising from the dead, again, would affect her more. She feels badly that they had to see that, she does, but dying falls outside the realm of things she can process right now.

Jaal reaches out again, and this time she lets him settle his hand on her knee. “Ryder,” he starts.

She shakes her head. Suddenly, it doesn’t matter how far she’s going to fall, only that she is, and she can’t stop it. “No,” she breathes, staring down at her lap. She tugs her sweatshirt over her hands. “No. I can't…I can’t be Ryder tonight.” Can’t be Ryder, can’t be Pathfinder, can’t be anything other than Victoria.

Jaal nods. “Victoria,” he begins again. Her name sounds like a comfort - a promise - from his lips. “You do not have to be anyone other than yourself.” He gently strokes her bare knee with his thumb - also bare, his gloves left somewhere else. “What can we do?”

Victoria takes a very shaky breath and her vision blurs as tears fill her eyes. She finally turns and looks at the two of them. She blinks, bringing her partners into focus, and the tears tumble down her cheeks. Crying sounds like a good plan now - the only plan - and they’re both here, looking for all the world like they’re ready and willing to hold her up while she falls. “I really need a hug,” she whispers.

They move carefully, but swiftly, and the words have hardly left her mouth before they’ve surrounded her - Liam at her back, arms around her waist, and Jaal at her front, tucking her into his arms. They’re strong and steady and caring, and as Jaal presses a kiss to her forehead and Liam presses a kiss to her shoulder and they both whisper I love you, she lets herself fall.

***

Liam slips back into her quarters after acquiring toast and giving Lexi an update - and getting a refill on Victoria’s anxiety medication and, after Lexi heard what they saw on the Archon’s ship, a small bottle of sleeping pills as well - and locks the door behind him. Jaal’s still on the bed, curled protectively around their girlfriend as she drifts in and out of a fitful sleep.

He fills a glass of water and carries it, the toast, and her meds over to the bed. Gently, he sits down beside her and brushes her hair out of her face.  She looks up at him, eyes red and puffy, and gives him a weak smile. He bends down and kisses the top of her head. “Do you want meds?”

Slowly, she nods. With Jaal’s assistance, she sits up. She was already spent, and crying took even more out of her; she leans heavily on Jaal to stay upright.

“Anxiety or sleep? Doc says you can’t have both.”

Victoria sniffles, and manages a quiet laugh. “Did that once in med school,” she says, voice thick and hoarse, “don’t recommend it. Sleep, please.”

He twists the cap off the silver bottle, taps out one white pill, and hands it to her, followed by the glass of water. She swallows the pill and drinks half the glass in one go. Leaning her back against Jaal’s chest, she gestures for the toast. It’s nothing fancy, just toasted formerly-frozen protein bread with some angaran fruit jam spread on it, but she looks at it, and then up at Liam, like he’s just cooked her the most amazing five-course meal. She slowly nibbles at it, careful to keep crumbs from falling into the bed.

Silently, she finishes her toast and her water and reaches forward to set the plate and glass down on the nightstand. Liam takes both from her with a kiss on her cheek. Her eyes go a little out of focus - her meds have kicked in. Liam sighs to himself; at least one of them will get some decent sleep tonight.

Jaal helps her remove her sweatshirt; skin contact seems important tonight, for all of them. Jaal’s already shirtless, and Liam discards his onto the floor. She looks up at him, and Liam can tell there’s the beginnings of a bad pickup line on her lips - probably along the lines of if you wanted me naked, you guys could’ve just asked - but she doesn’t say anything. He’s glad she doesn’t.

They shift around and pull back the covers so they can sleep under the blankets. Jaal slips his arms around her again as she lies down, holding her close to his chest. Liam kicks off his shoes and then slides in beside them. He catches Victoria’s hands with his and kisses her knuckles. She’s had this breakdown coming for a long time - he’s not even sure she cried after her father’s death; sure, they weren’t close, but he was family, and died right in front of her.

And now she died. Again. And the Archon jammed that thing in her neck, and she saw that he was torturing the salarians, and had to choose between Raeka and the krogan, and, and, and. Victoria has an incredible ability to pack things away, to ignore shit in the heat of the moment, but he’s yet to see her unpack things, to process the shit she ignores. So it builds.

Until it breaks.

“Sleep,” he whispers, cupping her cheek with his palm. He gently brushes his thumb across her cheek. “We’re here.”

***

When he feels Victoria drift off into a sound, dreamless slumber, Jaal finally allows himself to relax. Fractionally. He no longer needs to be on full alert, but he will stand guard over her as long as she needs. He kisses the top of her head and shifts just slightly so his arm won’t fall asleep with her lying on it.

He looks over her shoulder at Liam. They were both on that ship with her, heard and saw everything she heard and saw - although, and Jaal is imminently glad for this, neither of them had to die - and he’d be lying if he pretended not to be shaken by everything they found. “Are you alright?” he quietly asks his partner.

Liam shakes his head. “No. You?”

“No,” he says, clasping Liam’s hand with his.

Liam closes his eyes and rests his forehead against Victoria’s for a moment. “I don’t know what I’m more upset about. What they were doing to the salarians - what they are doing to all of us - or her.”

Jaal makes a strained noise in the back of his throat. “It is not a contest,” he says gently. One thing does not have to be worse than another.

“I know,” Liam says, squeezing his hand. “But if I don’t rank them, it’s just all terrible and I don’t know what to do with all terrible.”

Victoria huffs quietly in her sleep. They both look down at her. Victoria certainly knows what to do with all terrible - she’s somehow able to shut everything off, to not feel anything…at least until it becomes too much. Jaal suspects that, whatever it is that lets her do this, it wasn’t intended as a permanent measure; she was supposed to let the pressure and emotions out long before they overloaded, long before she broke down sobbing in his arms for an hour.

“I understand,” he says. Angara are not shy with their emotions the way he’s discovered humans can be; his mothers taught him the value of emotional honesty, both with himself and others, and he’s long learned how to process all terrible. It is not an enjoyable task, but he does not need to make one thing worse than another, nor hold everything in: there is meditation, and breathing, and reflection, and talking. Eventually, all terrible passes. He should teach his partners, perhaps it would help them. But not tonight.

Liam reaches out and strokes his fingers down Jaal’s unscarred cheek.

He smiles and turns to kiss Liam’s palm. “She is alive,” he says, because that truly is all that matters from that. She died, and it caused a horrible, sickly knot in his stomach, but she did not stay dead. “We found the salarian ark, and rescued them from the Archon. Pathfinder Raeka is alive. And we now have a map to Meridian.”

Jaal is not an optimist by human standards, nor does he want to diminish everything else that occurred today. But in the midst of tragedy and hurt and heartache, reminding them of the good that was accomplished today - and there was much - is important.

Something else he should try to teach his partners: acknowledging the good that happened does not negate nor erase the bad. Neither does acknowledging the bad negate nor erase the good. He loves Liam and Victoria, but humans are strange, difficult creatures. They are also wonderful and kind, but their approach to mental adversity seems to be the equivalent of beating it with a stick and demanding that it go away because they said so.

Liam’s shoulders relax slightly. He slides his hand away from Jaal’s cheek to rest on his hip, holding Victoria between them.

“SAM, lights out,” Liam says quietly. “Wake us when we get to the Nexus.”

“Of course,” the AI says softly. The lights fade and the window filters darken, keeping out much of the starlight.

“Sleep well,” Liam whispers.

“Sleep well,” Jaal says, settling his own hand on Liam’s hip. Victoria sighs and tucks herself closer to them. He brushes a kiss to her bare shoulder.

He doubts either of them will be sleeping soon, but they can pretend, and keep watch over Victoria, and each other.