#as a precaution length is 1.8k words

[princessmacedon]

me talking about macedonk sibs. mobile view link in case my theme is hard on the eyes. 

hi i just wanted to ramble about the macedon siblings so this is basically just a bunch of bullshit. i’m not very smart so it might just amount to a bunch of wrongness, but if you still read this, then i’m very grateful for your time!!

what spurred me to start rambling was me taking a quiz. because i’m a big nerd, i took a sorting hat quiz as maria, then again with my vague understanding of michalis, and a third time with my very limited understanding of minerva. (of course, the only one i can vouch for with any amount of confidence is maria, but--) i was initially surprised by the results. maria ended up as primarily gryffindor. michalis was slytherin by an incredible margin, and minerva was... ravenclaw?

i think these are fairly accurate, give or take. i was expecting maria to get either gryffindor or hufflepuff. while she generally comes across pretty hufflepuffley in her interactions, at her core, she’s also very brave and determined. in a situation of conflict, she will take the side she feels is the most just and and kind, and she will not back down.

michalis’ results leaned far more heavily towards slytherin, but i think a lot of that is sort of...wibbly wobbly. i think the main thing that puts him as so drastically slytherin is that, to achieve his goals, he is not stopped by honor or morality (please don’t interpret that as me saying ‘slytherins are evil,’ because that’s far from the case). rather, instead of tenaciously chasing after a morally just solution to protect the macedonian people, he was willing to do absolutely anything to achieve the safest path that macedon could take to peace and security.

in essence, i sort of interpret michalis as being firmly of the mindset of ‘if i had to betray or even kill my own family to save macedon, i would’. conversely, maria is firmly of the mindset of always believing in her siblings, no matter what-- she would never hurt them, even if one day it meant they had to kill her. maria would chase that morally just resolution, while just as determinedly chasing after an ending where everyone can be happy. (which i think is different than her being naïve-- she knows that such peaceful resolutions are not always possible, but she will still choose to believe in them with all her heart)

but minerva doesn’t share maria’s resolve to love or michalis’ resolve to protect, both regardless of cost. (and yes, i think michalis is/was protecting macedon-- or trying to, in his own way). she can’t blindly give her life to her siblings (or else she would have let michalis kill her), nor does she have the strength to end them if that is what her goal calls for (she tried to summon that resolve when she faced michalis, but ultimately, she couldn’t kill him).

(of course game maria has very little importance and very few lines so i might just be blowing hot air out my ass)

but i feel that the game sort of presents maria as the middle grounds between michalis and minerva. at the very least, i believe she’s the one person they both want to protect the most. (i have strong feelings about michalis sending maria to castle deil to protect her-- maria, who should never have to take another life-- from becoming a part of their war. it’s also very striking to me that if maria fights michalis in ch22, michalis has no great and mighty dialogue for her; all he says is “M-Maria? What are you doing here?” because maria is not supposed to be on the battlefield-- she is not supposed to be able to hurt or be hurt. and michalis-- elegant and powerful and prideful michalis-- stutters for her. but i suppose that right now, that’s neither here nor there.) 

Minerva:

Oh, Brother... ...The blood of warriors, you say? Perhaps you speak the truth. But Maria is different. Both you and I seek the light she radiates. The peaceful Macedon I wish for, and the mighty Macedon you seek... I know we can accomplish both. Maria might just be the link between the two of us...

while i think maria is definitely their best chance at connecting peacefully, i think the real median of the siblings is minerva. michalis has the resolve to kill; maria has the resolve to be killed; minerva can do neither.

which isn’t particularly bad, of course-- minerva could be interpreted as more rational than either of them, in a way. she wants the peaceful ending that maria is chasing, but she knows it’s likely not possible. she isn’t as willing to murder someone in cold blood as michalis was, but she’s definitely prepared to dirty her hands with war, if that is what saving macedon calls for.

but i think that minerva ended up torn between the two and unable to fully steel her resolve. because she knew she had to accept painful losses / could not avoid battles in a war, she resigned herself to the fact that she would have to fight and kill michalis. even when marth asks her if she’s sure she wants to fight him, she says “Even now, some part of me loves him. …I love him enough to spare him death on some stranger’s sword, you see? Let him be punished by my hands.”

part of me wonders if she’s not saying that at least partially to assure herself that this is what she has to do. whether or not that’s the case, though, we know for a fact that minerva ended up not having the resolve to actually kill her brother-- it’s how he ended up in maria’s care on the brink of death. ah, but i think it’s interesting that minerva’s lack of resolve is the reason we get to see that michalis also has the resolve to be killed for (and perhaps because of) maria later. 

but overall, i think that minerva’s the median between maria and michalis’ extremes. as much as i’ve mentioned her lack of resolve because of the subject of this long mass of fuckery (to the point where i feel bad. i’m sorry minerva |D it might even sound like i’m calling her a coward, but i don’t think that’s the case at all), i think minerva’s very courageous for standing up to her brother and engaging him in battle with the idea of killing him, despite how much she loved him even at that moment. her dedication to macedon-- her ability to face what many would never be able to for her country’s sake-- that she had the strength to go through with fighting and defeating michalis at all-- is in part because of her brother’s influence, i think. if i regard her gryffindor aspects as being influenced by her brother, especially with him being a slytherin, i feel... proud of the both of them, and maybe just a little bit sad. i also admire how much minerva strives for peace, though-- how much she wants that happy future for everyone. she prizes the people’s safety and their happiness, and there’s a gentleness about her that i won’t say that is because of maria, but i do think maria encourages that gentleness. 

but in a way, i also feel that minerva thinks more than her siblings. where michalis quashes his feelings in favor of strategy and the end goal, and maria stubbornly, unwaveringly believes in happiness, minerva thinks with both her mind and her heart. it might even be why she’s so torn, even when she thinks she’s steeled her heart. all three of these siblings are... really incredible. 

as a side note, i also half wondered if minerva’s lack of resolve (at least in comparison to her brother before her) might have been the reason she was so unpopular as a leader. we know she didn’t have as much charisma or leadership ability as he did, so i wonder if minerva might be the least charismatic of the three siblings. it might just be my bias, but i feel like, given time and a chance at the throne, maria would have had the ability to become a beloved leader, whether immediately or very gradually (somewhat similar to emmeryn, in a way?).

also, while writing this, i had the thought that michalis might deserve more credit than he gets. i mean, i have no doubt that he’s rash and arrogant and competitive and prideful, but i don’t think he’s as much a villain as he comes off as, either. i believe he has a great love for his country and a desire to protect it-- great enough that, whether alone or combined with a sense of duty to his people, he was willing to murder his own father (because he thought him weak, because osmond (the trio’s father) was simply waiting around for archanea to send reinforcements to help them defend themselves from dohlr, and those reinforcements weren’t coming). he thought to ally with dohlr instead, and then overthrow them later. 

( i’d also like to note that michalis’ murder of his father wasn’t easy on him, and it’s not like he’s heartless. he’s willing to go to extremes that few are, but he’s still human, much as others might think he’s not. 

Gotoh: “The weight of his father’s murder threatens to crush him…Poor boy. …Poor fool.”

the rest of that script with michalis and gotoh is also really good and important )

i’m definitely no expert, but i think this might have been the most safe and secure path in his eyes-- while defeating other countries, dohlr and macedon would support each other. since dohlr is their only land neighbor, it would minimize the amount of worrying about defending its villages from enemy attacks (...probably?). then, once michalis was sure of macedon’s strength, he could overthrow dohlr without great damage to macedon. maria being left in castle deil was both a way to prove their loyalty and keep her safe, and maria’s captivity was incentive for minerva to display absolute loyalty. whether or not michalis ever actually intended to execute maria if minerva disobeyed, i’m unsure-- i’d like to think (hope?) that he knew the threat alone would be enough (especially in the wake of osmond’s death). 

in the end, though, i like to think that maria would not love her brother so dearly-- would not be the loving and warm person she is if her brother was a wicked man. 

so yeah! that’s my Many Many Cents. if you read all of that, thank you! i’m sorry i didn’t have any real point

[francoiserenaldt]

good things come to those who wait...

summary: there’s a boy and she doesn’t quite know what to do… (alternatively: melisande devereaux has really done it this time)

word count: 1.8k

warnings: none

note: would it be a fic written by me if the moon didn’t make some kind of appearance? probably not. takes place after a few weeks at vancross.

Vancross is silent when she sneaks out of her dorm. 

Melisande took extra precautions to make sure that Tatum would be firmly in REM sleep—measuring his sleep patterns without looking like a stalker was easily the hardest thing Melisande had ever done and she once climbed a tree in heels for a photo op—and Murphy was a nonissue as long as Dionne was none the wiser. 

The one thing she hadn’t accounted for was guilt. The possibility of Tatum being punished for her actions had only occurred to her in this and it made her stomach ache, but she swallowed it and continued to walk. She had already made it this far.

This whole situation was his fault, anyway.

She eventually finds herself in the gardens. The sole light hanging from the top of the gazebo blinks to life at her arrival—she couldn’t even avoid the limelight in the wee hours of the morning, apparently—and she sits under the light and takes a breath. 

The speech she wrote sits in her back pocket. It’s awful even by her standards, but it’s the product of rushed scribbles in between classes and right before she went to sleep. She’s loath to imagine what would happen if any one of the numerous people surrounding her found out about this, but her mind wanders anyway. 

Blaine would, no doubt, tear it apart with a smirk, giddy with the realization that she knew Melisande was nothing but a sheltered puppet for her mother all along—Blaine wouldn’t say it that way, of course; despite a rivalry that spans over centuries and defies common sense, she’s oddly insistent on getting into Melisande’s pants.

Ayna would be concerned but supportive; the historian in her probably reckons that it would make killer supporting evidence in a collegiate thesis. Dionne probably would find it odd; parents controlling every aspect of their children’s lives was normal and resentment only hurt you in the end.

(Maybe she’d have a point.)

And Tatum...if Tatum got a hold of this, she would probably cease to exist on the spot.

Regardless, it doesn’t matter what everyone else would say if they saw it because they never will. Her reputation, her life even, depends on it.

She chuckles at that; it’s the most authentic speech she’ll ever write, but there can be no audience to receive it. She can only laugh to stop from crying.

The moon at Vancross is stunning this time of year, cool and quiet and drawing an odd feeling—too warm to be sadness, but far too cold to be wistful—from her. The scene was perfect, but it didn’t change the inevitable: Tatum would kill her if he knew she was out here.  

She almost wants him to; anything is better than this torturous dance they’ve been doing since he appeared in her dorm room. Everything about him was “job description this, job description that” until she could get him alone; even then, he would only drop the act for a few minutes before it was back to wishing he had never been assigned to her.

(Her heart only broke a little bit when he said things like that, of course. She’s an adult.)

(If only she actually felt like one.)

She stands and quietly clears her throat. If her calculations are good, she only has 20 minutes until someone notices that she’s gone. 

“I’m alone for the first time in a long time, so maybe I can finally put this weird feeling into words.” Melisande begins, just barely resisting the urge to fall into public speech mode. “I’m completely and utterly unsure of what I’m supposed to do with my life. Everyone has their own ideas about what I should be doing here. Mom wants me to come here and make the country proud by earning all of my marks, Dionne wants me to date, and Blaine...ugh, I shouldn’t even be speaking to her right now. I’m a grown woman and yet I’m letting everyone else tell me what’s good for me. The only person who’s fully respecting my decisions right now is...Tatum.”

She cuts herself off with a groan, crumpling the paper in her hands. “Fucking Tatum. I’m midway through articulating my quarter-life crisis and all I can think about is him.” She slumps down onto the bench, burying her face in her hands. “And I’m not even thinking about him, not really. The Tatum that wanted anything to do with me died overseas. The real Tatum is sleeping in his bed, probably dreaming about being literally anywhere else.”

A street light flickers on several meters away. A group of her peers chortles on their way to their dorms, no doubt drunk from some house party. She sighs, lifting her head.

“What did I expect, anyway? ‘Lisa and Tate against the world, like when we were kids?’ I barely want to be here and I’m actually getting something out of this.” She scoffs, sniffling. “God, I’m an idiot.” 

The wind picks up then, pulling her waist-length braids to the side. The night is still quiet and there’s no sign of life anywhere near, but she’s never felt more exposed. “I don’t even know him anymore. And he doesn’t want to know me. He’s just doing his job. It shouldn’t hurt this much to see him again.” She purses her lips as the heat behind her eyes swells once again, but she blinks it back. There’s still too much to say before she has to go back to bed. 

“But I have a job to do here, too. My mother is counting on me. Winston is counting on me. All of Rutherland is counting on me, so I won’t give up on them. I can’t. It’s out of the question.” She shakes her head violently. “But I won’t give up on him either. Not when I’m getting a little bit closer to seeing the real Tatum, my Tatum, in my life again. I can’t afford to screw this up. I can’t lose him again.”

Melisande tilts her head back and stares directly at the moon, letting the light reflect the pool of unshed tears in her deep brown eyes before she shuts them completely and lets the tears fall. “What the hell am I going to do?”

Off in the distance, a bell tower rings and the long hand of the clock beneath it settles on 4. She’d been out for far too long. It was only a matter of time before-

“Melisande.” 

(Shit.)

“Lecture me in the morning, please. I’m exhausted,” she sobbed.

She hears him clear his throat, probably out of awkwardness, before he speaks. “Do you have any idea how dangerous it is to be out by yourself right now?”

“I think I could have handled myself against the flora and fauna, Tatum.” Melisande snaps, wiping furiously at the tears running down her cheeks. “Besides, late-night escorts aren’t in your job description.”

“It’s literally a part of my job description that I need to be near you or aware of your location at all times, especially for ‘late-night escorts.’” Tatum pinches the bridge of his nose. “What were you doing up this late anyway?”

“Writing a sonnet.” 

“This is not the time for you to joke around.”

“So it’s only okay to switch up when you do it. Got it.” She huffs, brushing past him and speed walking in the other direction. “I’m tired. Let’s go back.”

He’s quicker, grabbing her arm and turning her around to face him. He takes her face into his hands, the fury (concern?) in his already intense eyes setting her ablaze. “You can never do anything like this again. Am I clear?”

“Tatum, you made yourself perfectly clear when you told me that you never wanted to be back around me the first time.” Melisande scoffs, meeting his glower with one of her own. “I’m the last person that's going to endanger your cushy government job, alright? Can we be done here?”

“We’ll talk about this in the morning.”

“Good. Now let go.”

The morning after is rough, to say the least. There isn’t enough caffeine in the world to make Melisande a functioning human being on 3 hours of sleep or enough outfit changes in her closet to wait Tatum out. 

He’s not good at waiting—never has been—and he paces outside her door, as if he’s ticking down the seconds until she has to stop hiding. She can’t help but scoff; his method is questionable but the message is clear: I’m not letting you off the hook this time.

She eventually settles on a light blue blazer set and rushes out of her bedroom, making a beeline for the kitchen. Naturally, a toned arm blocks her way. “I need to get to class.”

“You’re not getting out of this.”

“I wasn’t planning on it, but fine. We can talk now.” She drawled, ducking under his arm and turning on the coffee maker.  “You wanted to know why I left last night.” 

“As your bodyguard, I think you owe me that.”

“I needed time to think.”

“Don’t you have a room for that?”

“I wanted to be alone,” Melisande replied nonchalantly, only managing to resist the urge to shrug when she sees his nostrils flare. “It’s hard to do that when you have a shadow.”

“What are you doing?”

“Talking to you,” she allows the shrug this time, turning her head to meet his eyes as she pours her coffee. “Should I be doing something else?”

“Let me rephrase that: why are you acting out?”

Acting out? 

If Melisande was acting out, she’d have made herself a staple of the numerous house parties happening at Vancross. If she was acting out, she’d find Blaine Hayes and give her mother a scandal worth calling about. If she was acting out, she would have never agreed to come to the Vancross Institute to begin with. 

She didn’t deserve this.

“You can’t be serious. I leave the dorm once to clear my head and you’re treating me like a child.”

“Melisande—”

“This conversation is over.” 

“Like hell it is.” Tatum snaps. “In case you haven’t gotten the memo yet, you’re the daughter of a world leader, which means that you can’t leave in the middle of the night to clear your head on a whim without telling me. If there was even a one percent chance that someone who wanted to hurt you came here and I didn’t know where you were, I…” He pauses, then takes a breath. “I can’t do my job. It’s—”

“—your job to protect me. I know that.” 

“Then don’t make this harder for me than it already is.”

The earnest look in his eyes—definitely concern now—is enough to make her drop the act. “Alright. I’m sorry.”

He grunts, blinking the moment away, and she curses herself for the disappointment that courses through her veins. “Don’t be sorry, be careful.” 

“It’s too late for that.” Melisande shakes her head, too frustrated to cry and too tired to argue. “Far too late.”

It’s clear that he doesn’t understand what she means and she decides, then and there, that he would never know. The fates had aligned and made his position clear: she was an assignment to him. He could never know that she wanted more.

(It was far too late. For both of them.)

[kingdomheartsmarts]

So, that ask. Can we have some Redemption AU Xemnas angst? And fluff? Maybe with an S/O who comforts him? I imagine he somehow got away/out of Xehanort's control and managed to grow a heart.

so. i wrote this at 12 am and i loved every minute of it. first full angst but ending with fluff :) this got a tiny bit dark... 

thank you for requesting! i hope you enjoy~ 

a-n: references to self harm- angst then fluff | word count: 1.8k 

Redemption AU! Xemnas/Reader~ Loved

You were warned once you agreed to go through with this- to agree to take care of a man who grew to exist despite his depravity of humanity within- that it had the potential to be hell. It had the potential to cause you emotional stress at the understanding that if he grew to trust you, you would be left solely alone to be the one to take on the emotional weight. You were going to have to be his rock even if he hated you with everything within his new heart- and despite everything-

You agreed. 

And they were right: Even was right in warning you his emotions would be weak and odd, Ienzo was right in telling you there was no way to truly gauge how he would act with the absence of Terra and Xehanort, and Ansem the Wise warned you he could become violent and erratic at the flip of a switch, and yet- 

You agreed. 

You agreed to take care of Xemnas- the superior of the first Organization XIII, one of the vessels of Xehanort, and the nobody made from Ansem. There was no way he would be “easy” to help. You knew that going in. You knew the story- the walls of Xehanort’s rage and darkness crumbling around the fragments of memories of emotions of Ansem taking over Xemnas to the point of what could be perceived as insanity- while it was simply the growth of a heart that never truly existed. What might have been perceived as a miracle to those ignorant to him trued into a nightmare- the only memories of regret, fear, betrayal, and a deepening sadness that drowned his new heart created the dilemma never understood but expected: a new heart completely riddled with that of only veterans of agony and sorrow would feel. Even warned you those emotions would be hard to drown out. Ienzo warned you it would be hard to gain his trust, as the only ones he had ever truly trusted were all turned against him. Ansem the Wise warned you that the emotional outburst of confusion within new emotions would be frequent, and yet-

You agreed.

-----

The bed was cold. The left side, closest to the restroom, was cold. It was something that you wished wasn’t regular, but somehow became so; the absence of Xemnas rushing adrenalin-fueled by fear making you urgent to search your house for him. You pulled yourself from your sleep clouded thoughts to finally look around- the bedroom empty with the exception of you, the bathroom door cracked open with a nightlight barely illuminating the floor, and the chairs beside the expansive bookshelf empty. 

Pulling yourself to the side of your bed, you pulled on your robe and noticed his houseshoes still on his side of the bed-

He was still inside. 

A soft breath of relief leaving you, you walked out into the hallway, peaking through the rooms in search for him-

Xemnas. 

You had no idea what to call your relationship. He was aloof and scared and confused. He was clingy and curious and understanding. He was the strangest- grown- man you had ever met. You understood, of course, but that did not dismiss the pre-teen breakdowns and child-like clinginess to inanimate objects. He always wants attention and to be left alone. He always wants you but also your absence. It was odd. He wanted your physical affections and kisses while also retreating and freaking out at your surprise touches. But you understood-

You understood the warning of the threat of overwhelming emotions relating to his physical health. You understood that his emotions were completely new, something exciting and terrifying, while they could easily turn sour for his well being; you had taken the advice of precautions- locking away your razors, the sleep aids, any prescriptions, and any knives in the kitchen- for his physical health, while it still caused the fear to rise inside of you. 

Turning the corner, you found him: 

Standing beside the floor-length window, looking out over the greenery; the solitude home away from everyone to heal and to learn, observing the silent nature in the starry night. HIs frame close to the closed window, simply staring while you took in his silent stature: his loose nightclothes concealed by his robe, barefoot against the wood of the floor, a far off look in his eye that you had learned to identify as the same gaze he gave to Kingdom hearts. 

Glancing up at the clock of the living room, the smaller hand resting distinctively on two, you relaxed slightly at knowing he would still be able to get rest tonight. 

“Hey,” you quietly called out to him, walking over to him while he barely turned his head to see you, resting a hand against his back to gently rub it, “Is this alright?” 

Xemnas silently nodded, his muscles relaxing under your touch. You watched over his face, his eyes tired and bloodshot while his nose was flushed at his previous activities, his face uncharacteristically holding the expression that made your gut sink. 

“Would you rather say quiet instead of talking?” You gently asked, rubbing his back again, noting his previous non-verbal episodes. 

Xemnas was silent, and if you didn’t know him you would believe him to be ignoring you, while he thought out how he felt; a little exercise he had learned from you on knowing how he felt. His eyes were lost in the night sky, silently observing the stars while his thoughts sidetracked away from your question. You patiently waited for his response, looking out over the foliage with him, observing the silence of the night, before turning back to him- his eyes brimming with tears, his face attempting to stay stoic as his lip quivered, his Adam’s apple rising with the gulp to hold back the sorrow he felt- 

“Xem-” 

“Why are you doing this to yourself?” Xemnas finally asked, his voice cracking as his voice quivered, your gut sinking with an unpleasant pain, your heart racing your own pain, “Why are you constantly taking care of a monster?” You stared at him for a moment, his far off look now shrouded with the melancholy fear of abandonment and uselessness. 

“Xemnas, I’m not taking care of a monster-” 

“You are! That’s all I am! I am a monster!” His voice raised, turning to face you as his stoic expression finally broke- his bottom lip quivering, his eyes bloodshot in the sting of new tears, his cheek dampened with the flow of tears- “That’s all I am,” His quivering whisper making your chest tighten with sadness, “That’s all I ever have been. That’s all I ever will be. A squandering waste of your time.”

“Look at me,” You cupped his cheeks, gently stroking away the tears that continued to fall, his flooded carnelian eyes meeting yours, “I am not wasting my time with you, alright? If I was, do you think I’d be up at two in the morning looking for you?”

“You were told to do this. You were told to-”

“I agreed, unconditionally, to care for you,” you interrupted him, your own eyes stinging with young tears, “And I don’t intend on stopping anytime soon; no matter how many times I need to tell you that I love you, no matter how many times I need to tell you that you’re worth it to me, no matter how many times I need to hold you and take care of you- I won’t stop.” 

Xemnas’s eyes searched yours, fresh tears falling to be wiped away by your gentle thumbs, before his body fell against yours, his knees giving out as his broken sob resonated through the room. Your arms immediately wrapping around him as you fell to your knees with him, gently holding him while he sobbed against your shoulder, his arms tightly holding you while your throat burned with the succession of quick emotions rushing through you. 

“Why did you choose me? Why did you choose me to love?” Xemnas sobbed, his fingers digging into your back, “You love me without a reason and I cause you heartache and annoyance.”

“You don’t cause me annoyance, Xemnas,” You whispered in his ear, gently rubbing his back to calm him the best you could, “You cause me to love you. Everything you do- and that means through the harder times, and that’s okay. Because I love you, even if you’re never able to love me back or to understand, I love you, okay?” 

“Okay,” Xemnas finally breathed out, his breath shaky against your neck which was damped in tears, his own stomach twisting with guilt. 

“How about we go back to bed?” You suggested, gently pulling back and cupping his face, his tears stained with tears as he sniffled. Xemnas nodded, his eyes swollen and tired as he finally met your eyes, 

“I’m sorry,” He croaked out, his eyes thick with regret and irritation. 

“Xemnas, you never have to apologize for getting out your emotions, that’s why we’re here,” You gently explained, softly stroking his hair.

“I made you wake up in the middle of the night when you should be able to get sleep,” He choked out again, his face downcast with irritation at himself. 

“You didn’t make me do anything; I got up on my own accord; now, how about we go back to bed, where we can relax?” You offered again, attempting to distract him from his twisting gut. He nodded, letting you stand to lead him back to the bedroom; you stopped to fill a glass of water, carrying it back as you grabbed a washcloth, sitting Xemnas down on the bed. 

“I’ll be right back,” You reassured him, quickly dampening the washcloth with cool water, joining him back on the bed. 

“Try to drink as much water as you can,” You gently told him, sitting beside him to wipe his face, gently cleaning his cheeks from his tears, “everything is alright, you’ve done nothing wrong, okay?” 

Xemnas nodded, finishing the water, relaxing to the touch of the cool cloth against his inflamed skin. 

“I love you too,” Xemnas hoarsely said, barely audible as he fiddled with his fingers. 

You paused, staring back at him while you softly smiled, joy filling your chest, softly humming before pulling him into your arms, cradling him as he began to relax again. 

“What do I want you to remember?” You quietly asked, stroking his hair. 

“I’m not a burden,”

“You’re not a burden.” 

“I’m not a mistake,” 

“You’re not a mistake,” 

Xemnas paused, stalling his breaths for a moment. 

“It’s okay if you can’t say-”

“I’m loved.” 

“You’re loved,” You smiled wider still, pulling him back down to the pillows, pulling the blanket over you as you rest his head against your chest. “Try to sleep the best you can, alright?” You softly told him, continuing to stroke his hair as he nodded. 

“And if you need to get up again because of this, wake me up, okay?” 

“Okay.”

[musutofu]

【 Family Matters 】 Drabble

♡ pairing | ᵞᴬᴺᴰᴱᴿᴱ Todoroki x ᵍⁿ Reader ✑ word count | 1.8k ✎ genre | yandere ✗ warnings | kidnapping, arranger marriage prompt | 5. “The world doesn’t deserve an angel like you.” 50: “I want to tell you I love you until my throat bleeds.”

A chill, then a shiver; the most gentle trembling of her shoulders as the cold traces up the ridges of her spine with the iciest touch. Barely a hair’s breadth of movement only captured by eyes keen enough to know what to look for, but enough to upset the balance of her hands. The needle poised between her fingers slips and eats through her skin, pulling away pearls of blood as it leaves like a syringe. She makes a small noise of acknowledgment, a wisp of a sound that hardly disturbs the silence that’s clouded the room. The following sigh is louder as she lifts the embroidery from her lap to more closely examine the red stain eating through the white fabric like wildfire. It spreads to the mauves and lavenders of the peonies she’d been stitching, ruining a few hours of work in a few seconds. Still, she doesn’t look to the damage to see how badly she’s injured herself, only mournfully swipes her unbloodied thumb over the unruined flowers with a rueful smile. The minute uptick of her lips is an expression she’s been showing more often, although it’s worrisome in this context. Not wanting to disturb her but concerned for the ribbon of blood dripping down her finger, you rise from your seat to take the embroidery loop from her hand. She lets you, smile falling just a fraction before her eyes focus on your face. “It’s ruined now.” She’s still smiling, head tilted and eyes closed as if she’s expecting something. It sets a pang in your heart at the thought of what she must be thinking of; the consequences she must expect after rendering a day’s work pointless. Whatever it is she doesn’t have to fear it from you as you gentle dab at the blood on her hand, whipping the tiny cut clean with a sanitizing wipe before covering it with a bandaid. She flexes her finger to test its durability, holding her hand up to admire the floral decals wrapped around her fingertip. The bright pinks and blues stand out against her pale skin and even paler hair. Humming a soft thanks, she bows her head, eyes catching on the doorway as she lifts it. “Ah, Shouto.” The boy is easily recognizable as her son, a perfect split between her and her husband. “I wasn’t expecting you today.” He makes a sound in his throat like he hadn’t expected to find himself here either, but still moves to give her a hug. It isn’t the most intimate of gestures but knowing from Rei how things went in the Todoroki household it makes you feel as though you’re intruding. Trying your best to go unnoticed, you quickly gather your things and move towards the door. Rei catches you as you’re quietly bowing your goodbyes and waves you back in before you can fully disappear behind the closed door. “Don’t go so soon, come keep us company a while longer.” Whether she’s truly lonely after having years of motherhood taken from her while she’s been here or simply being polite, you can’t tell, but decide to resettle yourself in a chair near to her son. “Shouto, this is [Name]. They’re a student volunteer that comes to visit me every so often. I believe you two are around the same age, aren’t you?” She looks to you for confirmation. “I suppose we are.” You’re both still in high school and you recognize him from this year’s U.A. sports festival. He’s the same year as you. “It’s nice to meet you, [Name]-kun.” You say the same, hoping he doesn’t notice the way you fidget in your seat as he looks at you. His eyes are mismatched; an icy grey and burning blue that sears through you until it feels as though his gaze has melted away everything but your soul. It’s a strange feeling that you needn’t linger in and you turn away first, feigning interest in Rei’s ruined embroidery. She sighs when you lift it for appraisal. “I know, it’s ruined. I can be so clumsy sometimes.” She says bashfully, sounding less tense than she’d looked before. “My grandpa once told me nothing is ever ruined, and he’s a kimono maker. He’s had to repair and restore all sorts of stains and tears. We could turn this into a bouquet of camellias and peonies. I have some red thread at home, I’ll bring it on my next visit.” Rei smiles again and it helps to stave off the strange feelings her son is encoring with his enthralled gaze still trained on you. The visit continues like that until a nurse comes to inform you that visiting hours are over. This time Rei lets you slip away without protest, but her son won’t allow you the same luxury. He finds you outside in the light of the setting sun. It makes his left side glow as the dull embers of the waning sun catch in his crimson hair. He says nothing, still just staring in a way that makes you feel like he’s looking inside you rather than at you. Unsure of what to say, but knowing it’d be rude to walk away you stay nailed to the spot, waiting for him to say or do anything that could release you from the binds of propriety. “What school do you go to?” He says finally. You tell him, a slight swell of pride filling the emptiness his eyes have left inside you as you name one of the most prestigious schools in Musutafu that specializes in clinical rehabilitation for people affected by the aftermath of villain attacks. He doesn’t even pretend to be impressed. His eyes pierce you like a pin and all the hubris leaks out onto the pavement. “Thank you for looking after my mother.” You don’t mention that you’re getting school credits for your volunteer work and he doesn’t say goodbye. He simply turns to walk in the opposite direction. His abrasive exit bothers you less than it should seeing as his departure takes away all the tension that had built up since his arrival. Rei is a nice woman but her son has a strangely aloof personality, though not so strange when considering his upbringing. You brush his intense presence off as a normality for someone in his situation. Quite nearly forgetting about ever having met him after several visits to see Rei go uninterrupted. She says he still visits, just never when you’re there and coyly wonders why you’ve taken a sudden interest in him. It’s easy to pretend it’s admiration when everyone in your class are swooning over one U.A. student or another. Truthfully, you’re glad for the lack of appearance on his part. One meeting with the stoic boy was enough. After today’s visit, Rei insisted you take her fully restored embroidery of red and violet flowers as a gift for being so kind to her. You tuck it under your pillow before you go to sleep, wondering if the maternal love stitched into each flower would give you sweet dreams. Strangely, you awake in the middle of the night. It hadn’t been a nightmare that had done it as the memories of some happy dream still cling to the edges of your consciousness, but they’re easily flushed away as you move to shift back to your side only to find your hands tangled with your headboard. A short tugs gives way to a quick bite of searing pain as the frozen restraints cut into your wrists. It takes you longer than it should to realize the headboard is different than your own, and that the bed is different. The entire room is foreign to you right down to the white shirt you most definitely hadn’t gone to sleep in, though your frantic shuffling tells you it’s the only part of your clothing that was tampered with. “Ah, you’re awake.” The voice comes from a corner of the room where the silhouette of a chair is occupied by the last person you’d want to find you in such a compromising position. Shouto is watching you with his lecherous eyes, taking in every detail of your struggle. Each second that passes drags to the length of an eternity as he silently takes in every detail of you prone form. When he shifts to stand you jerk away in fear, wrist tugging hard at your restraints. Hard enough to cut your skin open on the ice fractals. Warm lines of blood drip down your raised arms and Shouto clicks his tongue in distaste. “Darling, don’t hurt yourself. That’s merely a precaution. I’ll remove it as soon as you calm down.” “Calm down? You expect me to calm down when I’m in a strange place with a strange man? Don’t tell me to calm down!” Shouto sighs like you’re a petulant child refusing to go to bed even when it’s evident that you’re tired. “This isn’t a strange place and I’m not a strange man. You’re at home, our home. With me. I don’t see what’s so strange about it.” “Home? My home is with my parents, far away from you.” He sighs again, his expression a cross between endearment and exasperation when you move away from his approach. He still catches you around the waist, right hand cutting through the thin fabric of the shirt to send a chill through your skin below. “My parents are your parents. Marriage does that.” His head leans into the column of your neck, lips smiling against your skin like you’ve just told the funniest joke. ��Marriage?” You incredulous. How had one chance meeting that only lasted a few hours lead to the leap from strangers to life partners. “It was arranged by my father at my request. Your parents were rather excited to hear that you were going to be married to a Hero. Mother was the one that encouraged me to pursue you. Said we’d make a lovely couple.” The words draw forth memories of Rei’s soft smile, but it’s soured by the reminder that if you hadn’t been assigned to her you would’ve never met her son, though it’s hard to loathe such a sweet woman. “I couldn’t agree more.” Shouto continues. “I love you. I wanted to tell you that first day at the hospital but I didn’t want to frighten you. Now that we’re to be married I can say it as much as I’d like. I want to tell you I love you until my throat bleeds. I want to keep you all to myself.” His arms tighten around you waist, pulling you impossibly closer. Your hearts beat against each other; yours a frantic flutter against his steady rhythm. “I want to keep you in my arms forever. The world doesn’t deserve an angel like you.” “And you do?” The words are said before you can stop them. Shouto lifts his head from where he’d been marking your neck with deepening bruises. “No, but I’m willing to spend every day of the rest of our lives proving my worth. You’ll love me then,” his voice darkens, “I know you will.”

[trashyficsfortrashykids]

The Reaper

Prompt: “Hi! I didnt see anything in the rules about this but I understand that its a touchy subject so feel free to dismiss this request if you want but if not could I please request a Aaron Hotchner x Teen Daughter reader where the reader was adopted into his family and due to some background/past issues shes very suicidal and he comes home from work one day and finds her in her room with cuts all up her arms? Fluffy ending please :33 Sorry that its long thank you in advance!!! <3”

Word Count: 1.8k

Tags: Cannon events, non cannon events, this takes place during the Ripper (George Foyet) timeline, self harm, cutting, harming, depictions of violence, graphic depictions of violence. 

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She walks to the front door, the chime of the doorbell still echoing through the hallway. Sunlight streams in through the opening and she looks up and smiles at the man standing in front of her. He was a little older than her Dad and he had a welcoming smile. 

“My car, it’s broken down, I was wondering if I could borrow your phone to call AAA.” His voice is warm, like honey and her Mother always told her to be kind to those who are kind to you. 

She welcomes him in, closing the door behind him.

“Mom!” She calls,  “there’s a man that needs Dad’s help.” 

It happened so fast that she couldn’t really comprehend it. Her mother entered the room first, smiling, ready to welcome the stranger in need. She didn’t know where the gun had come from, or where he’d been hiding it, but the sound of the chamber releasing the bullet that embedded itself in her mothers brain echoed through the house and made her ears ring. She dropped to the floor, her hair falling in tendrils around her. She looked up to see her Father bounding the corner calling out her Mother’s name. 

The stranger smiled at him, before firing twice; once in the chest and again in the throat. The scream left her mouth before she even knew she was going to scream. He turned to her, the gun barrel directed at her and smiled. 

I’m going to die. She thought, as she stared into the black hole of the gun barrel. I’m going to die, all because I was kind to a stranger. 

“Do you know why I’m here?” He questions. 

She stares at the pool of blood accumulating around her Mothers head, her breathing is rapid. 

“Do you?” He asks again. 

She shakes her head, she didn’t realise how dark blood was the it pooled together. 

“I’m creating a scene, a warning of sorts. There’s a man that’s trying to find me and it’s pissing me off. So, I’m teaching him what happens when you piss me off.” He explains. 

She hears a door slam upstairs, and then feet padding across the linoleum. 

Her sister. 

“Y/N?!” Feet hit the stairs and she can hear her sister barreling down them to try and find her. 

She’s shot before she even takes two steps into the room and Y/N watches her hit the ground. 

She turned six last week. 

He turns his attention back to Y/N, he begins to put his gun away. “In order to send a clear and precise message, you need someone who can deliver that message clearly and precisely. You’re a pretty girl, so I know he’s going to listen to you. But first.” He produces a switch blade and shows it to her, flicking the blade up. “We need to make sure that he’ll be able to read it too.” 

*

She had been one of his cases, her entire family had been butchered because of George Foyet and he didn’t know why he couldn’t just let her go. He knew that she would be placed in the system and would bounce from home to home until someone decided to take her in; but part of him wanted to hold onto her for as long as possible. Everything that had happened with Haley, I thin the owed it to himself to save someone else when he couldn’t save her. 

Another part of him felt solely responsible for her families murder because he couldn’t give up on George. 

It had been nine months since Y/N had taken up residency in his home with Jack and Hotch was grateful with how loving and caring she was towards his son, and how much Jack adored Y/N. It also offered him peace of mind that there was someone else there for Jack when Hotchner couldn’t be. 

He finds them in the living room, Jack’s playing with his toys near the lounge while Y/N sits reading just near him. He adjusts his tie. 

“Every parent must envy me.” He jokes. 

Y/N looks up and smiles at him, he takes note of her loss fitting sweater. “are you okay wearing that, Y/N. It’s going to be hot today.” 

She looks down at her clothes and nods. “I’m okay, Aaron.” She says, offering him a reassuring grin. He returns it and leans down to plant a kiss on Jack’s head, before ruffling his hair. 

“Jack’s Aunt is going to look after you both again tonight, she’ll call twice before knocking on the door. Do you remember the secret word?” 

“Apples for safe.” Y/N begins. 

“And banana cream pie for danger.” Jack adds. 

Hotch had taken extra precautions in order to keep his family safe, safety words weren’t just a joke to him anymore. After everything with George Foyet, he couldn’t run the risk of losing Jack, or even Y/N.

He leaves some money on the table near the door before saying a final goodbye and leaving. The door closes behind him with a soft click. 

*

She didn’t blame him, there wasn’t anyway she could blame him because he was responsible. She knew he blamed himself though, and she didn’t want him to. After her family died, Y/N knew that there wasn’t time to be filled with hate or anger, there wasn’t any point in filling yourself up with that toxic mess. It was exhausting and she didn’t want to let that overtake her. 

She was thankful that Hotch had taken her into his home and was helping to offer her everything she had lost when the Reaper tore through her life like a tornado. But she wondered if Hotch could take away the memories or the scars. 

She leaves Jack int he lounge room to retreat to her bedroom, closing the door behind her. It was like clockwork; Hotch would leave for work and she would leave to her bedroom. She peels her shirt off and stands in front of the body length mirror near her cupboard. The scars are still pink and raised as she looks over them.  They covered her entire torso. It’s ugly scarring but it doesn’t bother her so much as it used to when she first left the hospital. 

She was actually surprised by how neat the writing was with how much she’d been squirming under George before she passed out. 

“HOTCHNER. STAY AWAY. THIS IS WHAT HAPPENS WHEN YOU GET INVOLVED.” 

Aaron had tried everything to help her get rid of the scarring, but she told him it was fine, to just leave it how it was and it would fade over time. But it did bother her slightly; more so that her entire world had fallen a part in seconds and she was to blame. 

She looks at the other scars over her body, the ones she had put there and inspected each one carefully. Some of them were new, she’d only done them days before. Cutting herself had become cathartic and she didn’t know how to stop; there was something about the way George cut into her that made the entire world slip away, how all of the pain she felt oozed out of her body. She was trying to look for that, she was trying to find ways to make her pain drip away like water from a tap. But she couldn’t find it yet, so she kept doing it, over and over. 

It was a never ending cycle. 

*

Hotch came home four days later, it wasn’t uncommon for him to be away for a case, Y/N had gotten used to it. She knew that he was trying to save people and put people like George Foyet away for a long time, in places where they belong. 

They’re eating pizza when it happens, she reaches for a slice and her sleeve rises too high and exposes the scarring and the scabs; her eyes meet him and she watches him look back at the exposed skin before she pulls her hand away. 

“I’m going to go wash up before bed.” She rushes, leaving the dining room. 

She don’t know why she hoped it, but he opens her bedroom door and sits with her on her bed. It’s silent for a moment before he speaks. 

“When did it start?” 

“Two weeks after I got out of the hospital.” She says, she’s being honest with him. There’s no point in lying. 

“Do you know why?” She’s never heardhimq speak so quietly, he’s staring at her, his hands clasped tightly together. 

“It was experimental at first, I wanted to see why it felt so good when George did it. I wanted to see why he could make all of the pain I felt come out of me. Then it stopped being about experimenting and it just made me feel better. It became a habit.” She explains softly.

“It seems we can’t get rid of Foyet, no matter how hard we try.” Aaron says after a moment. “Does Jack know?” 

She shakes her head. “He’s too young to understand those kinds of things.” She begins. “He’s already been through so much.” 

“So have you.” He adds. 

Y/N bite she inside of her cheek and nods slightly. “I know.” 

“Y/N, it’s okay to grieve.” Aaron says, grabbing her hand in his. “It’s okay to want to find the reason behind your trauma but you can’t find it by doing this. You can do irreversible damage.” 

“I know.” 

She looks up at him, tears in her eyes. “Hotch, I know you blame yourself, but I don’t think you should, you have nothing to blame yourself for. George came after me and my family because he was crazy. Not because you made him do it.” She says. 

“He came after you because I didn’t stop. As a result, Jack’s mother died and you lost your family.” 

“Yes, but I have a new family now, with you and Jack. Hotch, I’m not angry, I’m not upset. It’s okay. Stop blaming yourself for things that were out of your control.” She tightens her grip on his hand.

He squeezes back and leans in, engulfing her in a hug. For the first time in a long time, they both feel like everything is going to be okay.