magmagicstyle

[magmagicstyle]

FATHERHOOD

IN THIS HOUSEHOLD WE DON'T SUPPORT JK ROWLING.

Dudley Dursley was never meant to be a dad.

Bloody hell, even the idea of being a dad sounded absolutely ridiculous. A few months ago, even a few days ago, he would punch anyone who dared to tell him that he would be a good dad. The idea so impossible that it couldn’t be any other thing than a jest.  

Yet, as if the universe had decided to spit in his face for tempting fate too much, here he was… barely 18 years old, cradling a newborn in his arms at five in the morning, sitting in a stiff hospital chair. Which made him think of his mother sitting by his side the time he broke his arm and… God, how could his mom sleep on one of those dammed chairs? They seemed torture devices. 

He looked down at the baby cradled in his arms, looking at her features under the dim glow of the hallway’s fluorescent lights. The world outside was still dark, and it felt as if time itself had paused, letting him process the crushing weight of this moment. The baby –his daughter… and didn’t that fill his heart with cold dread that threatened to rip his soul apart-, she was impossibly small, even when wrapped in a hospital blanket and wearing warm clothes to protect her from the freezing cold of London, Her tine chest rising and falling with each soft breath, her little eyelashes and pouty lips… He had never held something so fragile in his life.

And she has no idea she’d been just abandoned. 

Dudley swallowed, his throat feeling suddenly tight with anguish. One phone call… one dammed phone call was what had changed everything in his life. The hospital staff had been the one to call him, just to inform him that the mother –a friend, a one-night stand, a mistake… someone who hadn’t planned for this any more than he had– had given birth and promptly left after leaving a note with his number in it. She just left. No note. No explanation. She hadn’t even hugged the baby once before she was abandoning their child. Nothing. Just this tiny, helpless life left behind without any care or consideration. 

Why did she leave and make sure to let the hospital staff know to call Dudley? She knew him, she knew he was an idiot, a bully that used his height and weight to push people around and to get what he wanted… How could she even think that Dudley would be responsible? That he would be a good… dad? A dad, only thinking of the word, made him feel nauseous due to the nervousness. 

He looked down at the baby once more, her face scrunching slightly in her sleep… Maybe she was dreaming… Do babies dream? Does she dream? Maybe he should ask that someday… 

Dudley moved his finger over the baby’s cheek and her face instantly relaxed, almost as if she knew she was being caressed and just then… he felt a surge of something unfamiliar. It wasn’t the usual fear he had been feeling since receiving the call, even though that was still there… It wasn’t anger, though he also felt that, mostly directed towards the girl that had pushed this huge responsibility towards him without any warning… for real, if she was planning to give birth to the baby, it would be nice to be informed from the beginning and not when the baby is already here. Anyways… what Dudley felt was… deeper, somehow… and it was heavy and inescapable. 

What the hell am I supposed to do with you? 

The thought came unhidden, and immediately, shame followed it. As if sensing his inner turmoil, the baby stirred slightly in his arms, making a tiny noise that was quite similar to a whimper, before settling again. He watched her, barely breathing himself, terrified that even the smallest of shifts might wake her. It was only when she seemed to be completely relaxed, he rocked her gently. He had seen the nurse do that before, so he hoped that it would be alright for him to do the same. While doing that simple motion, his mind drifted, unearthing memories he had forced himself to bury long ago.

He wasn’t meant to be a dad.

He knew that since he was a little kid, sitting in the living room of his house and watching his father’s face, red with fury, always barking orders. Dursleys do not tolerate freakishness. Dursleys are respectable. He was always repeating those two “rules” over and over again. His father had made it clear enough for him to understand since he was barely a toddler. Family was about control, about appearances, and power. Not about love. Love was uncontrollable, it made you foolish and it ruined everything. Love was never something Vernon Dursley had valued… and his mother–

Petunia Dursley (née Evans).

His grip tightened slightly around the baby in his arms. He felt a surge of protectiveness wrapping around his heart and pressing in his chest. He could still remember her, thin-lipped and distant, always fussing over appearances to the point Dudley felt he had to always be proper in the eyes of her to keep getting her love and care. He could still hear her voice, sharp and insistent, always with an edge of nervousness and fear, echoing through his childhood. A proper family, Dudders. That’s what we are… You must always be proper, always do what’s expected.    

What would she say if she saw him now? How would she react at the little girl in his arms? Would she look at this baby the way she had loved at Harry? 

A shudder ran through him at the sudden thought. 

Harry. 

The name always felt like a blade to his conscience. 

Little Harry, barely a baby –always skinny, unwanted, shoved into a cupboard beneath the stairs until they were forced to give him a room. Always being pushed away and labelled as different, as weird. Not ours. His parents always said. Not one of us. 

Bloody hell, he hadn’t thought of his cousin in a couple of years. Not really. He had put their past behind, buried it so deep inside his brain, doing his best to ignore it to the point it wouldn’t claw at him in the dead of the night. But now, staring down at this little baby, at his daughter –what an odd concept, his daughter– he couldn’t help but remember. 

And for the first time in his life, he truly understood.

He hadn’t before, not really. He had acted like he did, but he was just a stupid child –he’s still a stupid child–. Harry had been an inconvenience, a punching bag, a way to entretaint himself and ignore how shitty his family actually was, a shadow that lurked at the edges of his spoiled little life. After all, during that time, it was so easy to ignore suffering when it wasn’t yours.

But now, as he held his daughter in his arms, abandoned before she even had the chance to understand what family was, what being loved was, the weight of it all hit him like a freight train. And the slap in the face that the universe was giving him at this exact second was hard. 

He had never been unwanted–not like Harry. He had never been abandoned or been the metaphorical and literal punching bag of the world–not like his cousin. But now, in this quiet hospital room, looking at the window and letting the soft fluorescent lights of the hallway be the only light he had, he finally understood what it must have felt like to be left behind. 

Now, holding his little daughter, he understood what it meant to be unwanted, what it meant to be discarded, and left behind like an inconvenience. He thought of Harry as a little boy, shoved into a cupboard by the family that was supposed to care for him, being ignored, neglected and unloved by the only people that could give him a connection to the parents that actually loved him so much that died protecting him.

Dudley had never been on the receiving end of that cruelty. But he had witnessed it. And worse, he had been part of it. He was spoiled and mean, and he had believed himself to be better than his small, weak cousin. He enjoyed being the centre of attention and bragged about the fact that he got to have things his cousin would never have in his life.

His stomach churned at the line of thought.

He sucked in a shaky breath and looked at the baby in his arms. If his parents were by his side to see him now, they’d be horrified. All their pride and–in his mother’s case– love, would banish in an instant. A single father? Raising a baby abandoned by her mother? His mother would have clutched her pearls and declared it a scandal, she would’ve probably wept, acting as if the baby in his arms was a curse or a tragedy. His father… Vernon… He would have ranted about irresponsibility and ruined futures. Maybe he would have even suggested abandoning the baby in an orphanage before everyone could notice Dudley was her father. 

But they weren’t here, he hadn’t told them of the call, nor about the girl that had been a night of fun. Luckily, he had gotten into a college that had a student hall, and looking for some freedom from his parents, he had pushed them to let him live at the dorm, so they weren’t aware of what was happening. Maybe, just maybe… he would finally be able to cut them off of his life, so their expectations and rules no longer held power over him. He had a job, and he was actually doing well enough at college to apply for a scholarship… But he would think about those things later. 

A soft, almost imperceptible, sigh pulled him from his thoughts. The baby in his arms nestled closer, her tiny fingers twitching against the blanket. He hesitantly traced a finger along her cheek. She’s so small.

Another memory surfaced, an unwanted, heart-wrenching memory–Harry, years later, standing in the doorway of Privet Drive. It had been the last time they’d spoken, that awkward, fumbling goodbye. His cousin didn’t look like a teenager anymore, no… Harry looked like an adult, like a man that had seen too much and was about to see worse things. He had tried to say something then, something real, something that was able to convey that he didn’t hate his cousin, but that the way he was raised had made him an entitled asshole… Something like that… But words had never come easy for him.

Would Harry understand what he was feeling now? Would he even care? Or had Dudley burned that bridge beyond repair? If he did, he couldn’t really blame Harry for not wanting to know anything about Dudley or the Dursleys in general. After all, there’s so many times a boy can be insulted/ignored/abused before he stops hoping for anything from his abusers.

He pushed the thought aside. Concentrate Dudley. Tonight isn’t about Harry or your bloody guilt. Tonight it’s about her.

The baby in his arms yawned, her face scrunching in that way newborns do, like she was annoyed at the outside world – me too, kid, me too… – She started to relax her expression once again, making a tiny noise of displeasure before settling back into sleep. Just then, looking at his daughter’s face, Dudley felt a strange sense of peace settle over him. He didn’t know how to be a father, god, he was pretty sure he was never meant to be one, and by that logic, he wasn’t sure he would ever be good at it. 

But one thing he knew for certain– He wasn’t going to make his daughter an orphan. Not if he was here to be by her side.

He wasn’t his father. He wasn’t his mother… And even if before he was ashamed because of that, now he was proud. Because he would not be one of them to this little flower.

Just then, the door creaked open, pulling him away from his own thoughts. Dudley stopped looking at his baby and glanced at the nurse who had stepped inside the room. She was smiling softly, “How’s she doing, dad?” She asked, and for a second Dudley felt himself waver at the last word before he cleared his throat.  

“Good. She’s… she’s good” He answered while looking at the baby, trying to find if she was truly fine or if Dudley had managed to ruin everything in the last couple of hours. 

The nurse nodded, not looking at Dudley, trusting him with the baby while she checked the monitors before turning back to him. “Have you thought of a name for her?” She asked with a kind smile.

Dudley looked down at his daughter, heart pounding slightly. He felt like an idiot, he hadn’t let himself think about it until now, not wanting to name her in case his brain decided to act like a coward like always and disappear in the middle of the night like her mother did. But as he stared at her, looking into the small and adorable face–he couldn’t believe a baby so adorable was actually his–, the answer came easier than he expected. 

Daisy. 

His little flower, his little Daisy.

As soon as he thought of it, the name settled in his chest like an anchor. 

His baby. A new beginning. A chance to grow something good, something nice and kind, from something broken… from someone as broken as Dudley. 

“Daisy.” The name his lips with quiet certainty, barely a bit louder than a whisper. “Daisy Petunia Dursley.” He added.

It was a tribute, not a curse. A reclamation of sorts. A way to make a promise to the universe that he would do whatever was in his power to make this little girl way happier than the original Petunia. 

The nurse’s smile widened. “That’s a beautiful name,” and after those words, she disappeared again–probably going to write the name in the necessary paperwork–, leaving him alone with his daughter.

Dudley swallowed the lump in his throat and held his daughter just a little tighter. He didn’t have all the answers, but he was pretty sure none of the new parents had any of those. After all, if a lot of women and men were always writing books about parenting and how to be a good parent, well… it was because parents still didn’t have a clue of what to do and were just trying their best.

Maybe there wasn’t a correct answer at all. Maybe the whole parenting thing was about making mistakes while trying to avoid traumatizing your kid too much. 

Sure, Dudley Dursley was never meant to be a dad, less a teenage dad. But he would be.

Because this little girl was his. His little flower. 

And he would try his damn best for her, and he hoped, he begged to God, the universe, or whatever was up there, that his best would be enough.

I saw somewhere (don't remember where or when) that Dudley has a daughter and that she is a magical child. What if he was a teen dad? What if he was a dad from a one-night stand? Many many questions. Anyways, shoutout to the people that created the headcanon (if it's a headcanon, at this point, fandom and canon is all mixed up in my brain and I can't and won't differentiate between the two), if you appear around here, you can leave me a comment or write directly to my tumblr and I'll add a mention. Also! IN THIS HOUSEHOLD WE DON'T SUPPORT JK ROWLING.

[magmagicstyle]

I WAS WRONG

Since y'all are hungry for more of the Carlisle x reader fic... Here's the previously Patreon exclusive work.

Enjoy... or don't... I'm not your boss.

⚠️WARNING⚠️: I mean… not really, maybe some violence because vampires need to eat and that… I guess sadness and long-ass descriptions also count… maybe

I've been thinking 'bout my thoughtless words

And I know just how much they must have hurt

And I take it back

Won't you let me take it back?

You know I told you that I don't love you

That I'd be better off with someone new

But I take it back

How did I end up like this? This wasn’t what I wanted at all. This wasn’t the plan, this was never the plan. If my father could see me now, it would be horrible, living in sin with my wife and my lover. No, not my lover, my mate. I understood the importance of the term in our culture, it was a gift, a little blessing given by life to relieve the pain of the hellish life we were condemned to as vampires. 

Still, how did I let myself get entangled in this complicated mess? I found myself torn between my wife, Esme, the gorgeous woman I had saved so many years ago and with whom we had two adopted children, and my new mate, that exquisite being, so innocent in many ways and so cunning in others. You were smart, devilishly smart, not only in book and education aspects but also in life and social situations. You were like the warmth of the sun, so beautiful and dangerous for us, for me… 

I never wanted to hurt either of you two, but my attempts to balance your affections and my time with what you wished of me only seemed to add to your jealousy, petty fights and pain. It was a precarious situation, and I found myself struggling to navigate the emotions of the two beings I held dear. Esme was always so delicate, so soft and loving. Still, I knew she whispered in my ears and cried softly, using my upbringing as a means to get what she wanted. You, my loving mate, were so sweet, so bright, like a meal I can’t get enough of, but I also knew that you used our connection to get what you wanted, that you used my need to bed you to try to make me forget about Esme’s existence. 

I could remember, clear as the day, the moment I met you, Raine, my new soulmate. It wasn't because of my perfect memory or any supernatural abilities; it was simply because that day marked a turning point in my life. When our eyes met, it was as if the world around us faded, leaving only you standing there, looking at me with such purity and hope. Looking at me like the universe had given you such an amazing gift… and I won’t lie, for a moment, I felt the same. From the very beginning, I knew it was going to be a difficult path. I was already married to Esme, my beloved wife. The guilt of feeling such a strong connection to another vampire ate away at me. But there was something about you that I couldn't resist, something that made me feel alive and awakened emotions in me that I had never experienced before, not even when I met Esme.

I won’t lie, when I first met you, there was an undeniable spark between us, a magnetic pull that left me stunned, and for a second, just for a second, I felt so human, so young and inexperienced. I felt that if I could, I would be breathless. Of course, as quickly as it ignited, I tried to destroy those feelings. After all, I was unsure of how to proceed. Was it possible for me to love another being in the same way I loved Esme? She was my wife, the woman I had chosen to keep me company for eternity. But, it was obvious that you were my mate, the being chosen for me by the universe.

Then, I tried to keep my distance, but your presence in the same house made it impossible to ignore. The connection between us was obvious. The way your golden eyes haunted me, and how every smile that you gave me brought warmth to my undead heart made it unattainable to resist. I couldn’t resist you, more than once giving up on my deepest desires to possess you, to bed you. Yet, my efforts to console and comfort you, to show you that I could see the connection between us only seemed to be causing more harm than good… and Esme’s jealousy grew more apparent with each passing day. Even if I tried to pretend not to notice the tension between you. 

I witnessed your interactions, never saying a word, never showing a reaction to your acts of jealousy. It was evident that you two were trying to mark me, to show the other that I belonged to you. Meanwhile, I felt like a helpless bystander torn between you two and your actions. Esme’s concern for our marriage was evident, and your longing for my affection was palpable. I tried… No, I wanted to keep you both happy, but my attempts at maintaining equilibrium only seemed to deepen the divide in the house. My words and acts only seemed to push you both to be more aggressive in your competition.  

Still, as the days turned into weeks, and then into months, I found myself getting closer to you emotionally. Our conversations went beyond mere carnal desires, and I found myself discovering a side of myself that only was unlocked when I spent time with you. When we were at work, at the hospital of the little town we were residing in, I would catch myself laughing and joking with you, sharing experiences and thoughts I had never shared with anyone else. At home, we were able to talk about technical evolutions and advances in our work field, and when we lay in bed together, we could talk about history, art and things I wasn’t able to share with Esme no matter how hard I tried.  

It was thanks to the newfound connection that I knew it was tearing you apart to see me struggle between my commitment to Esme and the growing affection we had for each other. I could see the sadness in your eyes whenever I had to leave to be with Esme, the pain that appeared briefly in your expression as soon as Esme called my name and I had to go with her. I admit, it was unfair to you… And please, believe me when I say that I felt like I was breaking your heart with every step I took away from your embrace, and that in some way, it also broke my heart to do it.

Esme, of course, noticed this and decided to act. Unlike what I would have expected from her kind and almost motherly soul, she tried to maintain her position as my wife. To the point, she ended up doing everything she could to keep my attention away from you. She would pretend to be sad, to act like the typical housewife in need of my love and care, to remind me constantly of the vows I took when I married her. It was almost like she was hoping that I would only focus on her, forgetting your existence completely until you went away. I must admit, at times, I fell into the trap, trying to be the attentive husband she wanted me to be. If I’m honest, sometimes I was even happy to pretend to believe her performances, enjoying the comfort of something that was already known to me. Still, the guilt would eat me alive when I saw you suffering because of our actions.

I knew Esme loved me deeply, and I loved her too, but it was different with you. You were -and hopefully still are- my soulmate, and the bond we shared was something I had never experienced before. I had felt so seen, so understood. It was like I was an open book to you, unable to hide under the masks I was so used to. I loved it… but at the same time, it terrified me. Of course, I knew it was unfair to both of you to continue this charade, and if I was completely honest, I couldn’t bear to see you hurting any longer. 

I was thinking of ways to fix this whole situation when things reached a breaking point. You suggested a trip, just the two of us, and even if I wanted to go with you and run away, I knew I couldn’t just leave Esme so I rejected the idea. I was stupid at doing so. I wasn’t able to find the right words to explain my reasons and only made you angry and caused you immense pain. In the end, I yelled things I didn’t mean and couldn’t apologise when it was necessary… or maybe I was just too of a coward to apologise even if I knew I was in the wrong. 

While I was out with Esme, she couldn’t take it anymore, she confronted me, yelling and screaming, sobbing without tears, confessing all her actions out of jealousy and fear of losing me, calling me a coward for acting so harshly towards you. I was heartbroken to see her like that, to know that she was right in calling me a coward, and I promised her that things would change, that I would talk to you just after we saw our children and that I would make sure to make you know how important you were for me. In the end, Esme acknowledged the connection between you and me, she recognized that you were meant to be my mate and sure, she was hurt, but at the same time she accepted the fact that she could never compete with destiny. 

I was planning to change things, I really was… But it was too late. You had already decided to leave. Of course, you, being quite intelligent, left a letter addressed to Esme but it was obvious that it was also meant for me. The letter tore my heart apart. Your words, I could feel the pain you had endured, the hurt of being in a relationship that seemed like a dirty affair while fighting for my attention and only getting crumbs of it. Reading your words, I felt like a failure, a poor excuse of a man who couldn’t see the suffering he was causing while talking about mercy and being caring towards all creatures. I had neglected you in the pursuit of keeping my image intact, and in doing so, I had pushed you away. Re-reading the letter, I couldn’t fight the overwhelming sense of loss. It was as if a piece of my had been ripped away, leaving me incomplete, and I only had myself to blame for my pain. 

Won't you let me take it back?

Girl, you know that I still love you

And you know that I'm so alone

I don't know why

I told you that I didn't need you

Can't you see that, baby, I was wrong?

In the forest near our current residence on the borders of the little town known as Forks, I stood face-to-face with you. This wasn't at all like I had imagined our reunion to be like. Not at all. When I tried to picture a future where we saw each other again, you were coming to me to listen for one last chance or I was finally able to find you and beg you to come home… to come back to my side. So, seeing you, as the vampire representing the Volturi after my family was at odds with them. Well, that wasn't ideal…

It had been years since we had any contact since we saw each other, and I must say that the memories of our past relationship flooded my mind in an angry wave of shame and regret. I knew I had made mistakes, treated you poorly and well, and neglected your feelings in favour of my wife, Esme. But seeing you at that moment, it was evident that even if you were almost done with everything related to me, the wounds from the past were still raw and maybe they kept hurting you until now. 

As you and I locked eyes, I could sense the mixed emotions swirling within you- anger, hurt and perhaps even a hint of resentment were mixed with confusion, longing and maybe a bit of love. Of course, I wanted to apologize, make amends, explain my actions and maybe even beg for forgiveness, but I knew it might be too late for that. I had lost you, and now… Now, it seemed that you had moved on, from what I heard it seemed that you had found love and happiness with someone else, leaving me with a heavy heart of “what if…?”. 

When you arrived at the Volturi coven, I couldn’t help but feel a pang of jealousy and regret. The news had travelled fast. Word of your ethereal beauty, commanding attention and respect from all who saw you spread quite quickly among the vampires of all covens. Your presence and power signified a notable union, one that I had lost due to my own mistakes and cowardice. It was hearing of you and noticing how without any help my marriage was failing, that I couldn’t help but think that if I had treated you better, if I had been the mate you deserved, we could have had an unbreakable bond. You were a one in a million and I had let you escape between my fingers. 

But, of course, there was no going back now. I watched as you stood firm, with your guard up, and listened to my pleas with a hint of sorrow and bitterness in your voice. Always the compassionate soul, even if I was the bastard that had broken your heart so many years ago, you still found in yourself to feel sorry for me. Still, it was your face and actions that reminded me of the times I had let you down, made you feel insignificant, and abandoned. Your words struck me deeply, and I could feel the weight of regret and remorse settling in my heart.

Even so, I reached out, my hand trembling slightly, hoping, begging to the world that I would be able to bridge the emotional gap between us. I begged you to give me a chance, one last chance, to let me prove that I had changed and could be the partner you deserved, the partner you wanted. But you refused, and, even if I wish it was a lie, I could see the determination in you eyes. You had moved on, found someone else who cherished you, and I had lost you forever.

As you turned to walk away, I felt a profound sense of loss and heartbreak. If this was what you felt all the times I rejected you, then I could completely understand why you were turning me away. I had let go of something precious, someone who had once meant the world to me, all because I was foolish enough to pretend that the promises made to someone I didn’t love were worth more that the person I was supposed to cherish all my life. I stood there, watching you disappear into the distance, feeling the weight of my mistakes and the pain I had caused.

As the days passed, I couldn't shake the feeling of emptiness in my heart. Sure, you had never been to my house other than the moment the Volturi sent you to talk to us, but still, it was as if the house felt different without your presence. The air seemed heavy with my regret and pain. It was during those days that Esme and I tried to move on, we decided to try and have a real marriage, a marriage that we haven’t followed through in many years.  But, still, there was always a void that couldn't be filled.

As the years passed, I dedicated myself to being a better person, a better mate, and a better father to our family. Esme and I grew closer, and we tried our best to create a loving and nurturing environment for our family. Esme and I talked about it, and it was clear that she, too, felt a sense of guilt and remorse over the way we had treated you. We both understood that we had to change, not just for ourselves but for our family and the sake of any future relationships. But we were never able to pretend to have a loving relationship like we were doing before. The marriage was over in everything but paper, and it wasn’t like we could get divorced legally so we just accepted the fact that we wouldn’t be a real couple while pretending to be married for everybody else. 

What I wouldn't give to be your lover again

All I want to do is touch your skin, yeah

If I had you right here right now

Tell you, tell you, tell you, tell you

The fire crackled softly, its embers casting restless shadows that writhed and flickered on the walls of my study.  The room felt quiet yet unbearably loud with the weight of my thoughts. The warmth from the hearth barely reached me, as if the very room itself recoiled from the cold, unforgiving truths contained within the fragile paper in my trembling hands. This room had once been my haven, but now it seemed like a mausoleum for all the choices I regretted, all the love I had failed to protect. In my hands, I held the letter. Your letter. My mate’s words stared back at me from the aged parchment, each stroke of ink a ghost of a past I could not escape. The years had not dimmed its impact—if anything, time had sharpened the pain.

The scent of old leather and ink permeated the air, mingling with the faint aroma of the fire. It was a scent that should have been comforting, yet tonight it tore at my heart. It felt heavier than it should have, as though it carried the weight of all the years of pain, loss, and longing that had passed since you had walked away. I had read it countless times, yet every word still cut into me with fresh, brutal precision, carving regret into every fiber of my being.

I traced the curves of your handwriting, my fingers brushing over the faint indentations of the ink. Memories surfaced, vivid and relentless. I could still hear your laughter ringing through the halls—a melody so bright it had illuminated even the darkest corners of my immortal existence. Your voice had filled a void I hadn't realized existed, their presence a balm to a soul that had long forgotten how to yearn. I closed my eyes, and for a fleeting moment, I was back there—when the world had seemed infinite and love had felt like a promise.

But that promise had shattered. And the shards? They embedded themselves deeper with every passing moment. I thought I had grown accustomed to regret. After all, what is immortality if not a long lesson in living with your mistakes? Yet tonight, it felt as though it was crushing me anew, squeezing the breath I didn’t need from my chest.

“Dear Esme,” the letter began.

I closed my eyes for a moment, the familiar ache in my chest tightening like a vice. No matter how long it passed, the choice to address the letter to her, not to me, was more than just a wound—it was a verdict. It was a conscious decision that came from years and years of pure neglect from me to you. You had chosen Esme because you truly believed I wasn’t capable of understanding, of hearing you, of offering you an ear, of feeling the depth of your despair... And, as much as it pained me, you had been right. At the time, I hadn’t been able to. I hadn’t wanted to. I was content in lying to myself, in pretending that I could keep a wife and a mate and that everyone would be happy with this messed up arrangement. And I knew how that went… Well, one thing we can say it’s that, the old saying was right… you can't have the cake and eat it too.

"Why?" My voice broke as the question escaped me, raw and pleading. "Why did I let fear rule me? Why did I let it take you away?" I asked to the air, knowing that there wasn’t anyone around me to answer, knowing that even if someone was close enough to listen to my question, nobody other than me could know the reason, and even I wasn’t sure if I could understand what lead me to push you away like that.

Your words, carefully penned yet trembling with unspoken anguish, unfolded before me like a mirror reflecting the worst parts of myself. I was a coward, a dumb coward willing to hide my head on the sand to avoid any type of conflict that would make me evaluate my old believes. I had been so afraid—afraid of losing what I already had, afraid of betraying Esme, of going against my religion, afraid of letting you in and finding myself wanting. And in that fear, I had lost the most precious thing of all.

I thought of Esme, the love we shared, the life we had built. I had thought our love to be unwavering, but… Was it really like that? Or had I been lying to myself due to the fear of being considered lacking? Was I against the idea of leaving Esme because I loved her or because my religion condemed the idea of divorcing from your partner? It wasn’t like I was going to go to heaven, due to my nature I was most likely going to hell if I ended up dying somehow… Still, I had clinged to my believes and to the steadfast and deep love that I shared with Esme, clinging to the bond that had weathered countless storms, and acted like that love would save me from every mistake that I had made until now… But you… You had been a tempest. You had swept into my life with a force that had both terrified and enthralled me. And for all my centuries of wisdom, I had been a fool.

“I have to write this letter to you because I know you're the one who understands how much he means to me…”

God be dammed… You had always been so selfless. Even in your grief, your heartbreak, you had thought only of my happiness. You had left prove of how much you cared for me… After all, it wasn’t anger that filled those lines; it was acceptance. An acceptance that burned far worse than any hatred ever could. My hands tightened on the edges of the paper, crumpling it slightly. I could still see your face as clearly as if you were standing before me—your eyes that had held entire galaxies, your smile that could quiet even my most restless thoughts. And yet, I had pushed you away. In trying to honor the life I had with Esme, I had dishonored you, and in the end, I had failed you both.

But this wasn’t about Esme, was it? It was about me. The man who had failed to give you the love and devotion you deserved. The man who had taken his light for granted until it was too late. Now my light was gone, and probably shinning for someone else.

“I would beg you to please don't take my man… but we both know that he was never mine, to begin with.”

The sharp intake of my breath echoed in the silence of the room. I didn’t even needed to breath, but your words were making me feel so painfully human. The heartbreak of losing you was making me act like when I was a normal man again. A rightful fool. Those words. Those words never failed to shatter me, to cut through the carefully constructed walls of control I had built around my emotions. Never mine. You had believed that. Truly, deeply believed it. And whose fault was that? Mine. Only mine. 

I was the monster that had broken your heart to the point you believed I didn’t give a damn about you. I had let you stand in the shadows of my life, never bringing you fully into the light, subduing your shine until you were barely a dying ember. I had allowed you to feel like an afterthought, a fleeting moment of passion rather than the core of my existence. And now, the consequences of my cowardice were etched in every syllable of your goodbye.

A tearless sob threatened to break free, and I clenched my teeth against it, feeling small cracks appear on my skin due to the strength I was using to keep quiet, my body trembling as I struggled to contain the storm raging within me. I didn’t deserve to voice my pain. I didn’t deserve to complain and wail while you had been forced to accept your pain silently. You had begged for so little—a touch, a glance, a word—and I had given you nothing. Not because I didn’t love you, but because I had been too afraid to admit how much I did.

I remember the nights I spent drowning in my work, burying myself in medicine to avoid the truth. To avoid the fact that loving Esme had become a task and loving you had become what I needed to continue my day to day. Healing others had always been my purpose, my solace. But even that had become hollow. Just a mask to avoid thinking of you and my multiple mistakes. For all the lives I saved, I could not save the love that had been so freely given to me.

“Please take care of him, because we know that even if I wished I could… I can't take him from your arms.”

The letter trembled in my grasp as I read the handwritten lines once more. Your words were full of love, of pain. You weren’t showing any anger but resignation. And even then… The words were kind, almost loving in your request for Esme to continue by my side, to care for me, to do what you believed I wouldn’t allow you to do. Still, I could feel the pain laced within them. You and her had deserved better—better than my hesitation, my divided heart, my cowardice.

Your words were a testament of your unending kindness. After all, your words came from a place of love, love that I was undeserving of, and even then, as you walked away, you had thought of my well-being, my happiness. The letter wasn’t only showing your pain, but it also showed your unyielding heart. And in doing so, you had broken me in ways I would never recover from.

Unshed tears blurred my vision as I stared at the letter, the ink smudging slightly where my thumb brushed against the page. The tears felt like poison agaisnt my heart, still, I would drink it and accept it if that would give me a chacne to kneel in front of you and pray for forgiveness. You had loved me with a ferocity that terrified me, a love that I had been too weak to embrace. I was a coward, and that was going to be my biggest regret forever. 

“Goodbye, Carlisle. I really hope that you aren’t the only one for me, but right now, I don’t feel like I will ever be able to love again.”

And with those final lines, you were gone. Not just from my present but from my future as well. There wasn’t a chance for me. Not now, not ever. You would stay forever in my heart, my soul and my very existence, but I wasn’t anything more than the vampire that hurt you in the past. I was probably going to be a small footnote in the story of your life and that would be my fault. That thought struck me like a death knell, reverberating through the empty halls of my heart. 

You had left me not because you didn’t love me, but because I had given you no other choice. You had left because you had believed, with every fiber of you being, that I would be better off without you. That I would never love you enough, never appreciate the fact that the world had blessed me with someone made perfectly to fit me in any way… and I hated to admit that, you were probably right. I wasn’t the right one for you, I was a coward, an asshole to afraid to pull away from his religious beliefs and his god that I had refused to see you for the gift you were. And I was probably never going to change… I wasn’t. I never would be any different and that was going to be my cross to bear.

The fire crackled softly, the only sound in the oppressive silence of the room. I folded the letter with shaking hands, smoothing its edges carefully, almost reverently, before tucking it back into the drawer where it had lived for so many years. As though by tucking it away, I could contain the memories that now threatened to drown me. But no matter how carefully I placed it there, it would never truly be gone. I knew better. They would never truly leave me. It was burned into my memory, etched into my soul.

As I sat there in the dim light of the study, I allowed the sobs to escape my lips, feelings the tears that would never fall, due to my monstrous nature, appear in my eyes once again, burning like poison could only burn against one’s skin. I was sobbing for you, for Esme, for the man I had tried so hard to be and the man I had failed to become. Grief coursed through me, unrelenting and raw.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered into the emptiness, my voice breaking under the weight of my grief. “I’m so sorry…”

The words felt hollow, inadequate. They would never be enough, because they could never cure the heartbreak I had caused with my carelessness, never undo my actions and mistakes. Still, they were all I had. All I could offer to the ghost of a love I had destroyed.

As the fire burned lower, casting long, flickering shadows on the walls, I sat alone with my regrets. The house was silent, the night stretching on endlessly, and I knew that this ache—this unbearable, unrelenting ache—was my penance. My punishment for failing the one person who had truly seen me, truly loved me, and whom I had failed to love in return.

When dawn’s first light crept through the curtains, I rose, the weight of the night still heavy on my shoulders. But with it came a resolve. I could not change the past. I could not undo the pain I had caused, nor could I reclaim the love I had let slip through my fingers. But I could honor it. I could learn from it.

I would cherish Esme, not as a penance, but as a promise to never again take love for granted. And if ever I were given another chance—to love, to be loved—I would seize it. I would hold it fiercely, without hesitation, without doubt. 

I wouldn’t fool myself again, you had been my moment of true happiness, and I had squandered it. But the memory of your kindness, your words, the love you had offered me so openly, would not be in vain. It would guide me, a compass pointing me toward a better version of myself… or at least, I hoped it would.

Girl, you know that I still love you

And you know that I'm so alone

I don't know why

I told you that I didn't need you

Can't you see that, baby, I was wrong?

[magmagicstyle]

DRESS (A)

⚠️WARNING⚠️: Ehm… Death? Poor Valentina?

Pairings: male!reader x The Volturi kings.

Slumbering with you in front of the mirror, fingertips of crimson.

Your hand suddenly showed weakness and covered your lips.

I made a promise to you that day.

Now it's just the two of us, no more memories.

The gorgeous and dimly lit halls of the Volturi Castle carried an air of solemnity and danger. It was as if a predator was ready to attack at any second… which, after thinking about it for a few seconds, wasn’t too far from reality. In the grand throne room, Aro, Caius, Marcus, and you sat upon your elevated thrones, the kings' expressions unreadable but their sole presence was commanding. 

You, on the other hand, were simply... bored. So bored that you silently wished for anything remotely interesting to happen. As if the universe had heard your plea, the silence was broken by the faint sound of approaching footsteps—Valentina, the new human secretary of your mates, cautiously making her way forward. Valentina was pretty and quiet as a mouse, which was perfect since the sole reason why she had been chosen for the job was her beauty and obedience to the kings. Of course, now her beauty was being tainted by her harsh actions, her hands were trembling to the point the delicately designed envelope she carried was shaking in her hold and her steps were clumsy and rash, the heels of her shoes making unpleasant noises against the floor.

The candlelight flickered as she stepped closer, her hands trembling as she held out a silver tray with an ornate envelope resting on top. The details glimmering softly as Valentina handed it to Aro. Your mate’s pale and slender fingers brushed the edges of the paper as he accepted it with a peculiar and a bit unnerving smile. You sighed, already knowing this wasn’t going to be the distraction you had hoped for. After all, Aro’s smile was obviously fake… The amusement didn’t even reach his crimson eyes. You hated that smile—the one he faked so well, masking whatever real thoughts lurked beneath.

“What do we have here?” Aro mused, his voice smooth as silk but edged with amusement.

Valentina swallowed hard, clearly aware of the weight of her position. “An invitation, Master Aro,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

You shifted in your seat, watching as he opened the envelope with care, sliding the card out and carefully inspecting its contents.. The wax seal bore an emblem you recognized instantly—the Cullens. You were able to glance at the invitation over Aro’s shoulder and… you had to give it to them, the Cullens had always been meticulous in their presentation and aesthetic, and this was no exception. Still, your stomach twisted slightly, though you forced yourself to remain expressionless.

“Ah,” Aro murmured, his voice as soft and smooth as always, though an undertone of curiosity laced his words... that was new. Your mate’s lips curved into a faint smile as he read the words silently. “Edward and Bella…” Aro said in a breathy whisper. “It appears our dear friends in Forks have something to celebrate.” He added, looking at his brothers and you from his seat.

Caius scoffed from his throne, his irritation barely contained. “What nonsense have they devised this time?”

Aro’s crimson eyes scanned the paper, and a slow, almost amused chuckle left his lips. “A wedding… how delightful!”

Silence stretched across the room. Marcus, ever the quiet observer, barely reacted. You, however, felt something cold settle in your chest.

Edward.

Of course, it was fucking Edward.

You leaned back, folding your arms as Aro passed the invitation between his fingers. He didn’t look at you, but you knew he was aware of the storm brewing beneath your calm facade. Was it with the Cullens and being unable to follow simple instructions? Seriously, it was quite predictable at this point. Tell the Cullens to follow a rule or do something, they’ll ignore it and try to avoid the consequences of their actions. 

Caius’ piercing eyes narrowed at the card in Aro’s hands and then looked at his brother with distaste. “Delightful? No, Aro, this is a declaration, a way to announce her future union even if she’s still a human… This-” he motioned angrily towards the card and opened his mouth to continue but found his disdain too strong to continue.

“This is a way of mocking the Volturi, my king… they are mocking us for giving them another chance and they are making it obvious by daring to invite us to this union…”  You finished, expression twisting with anger.

Marcus, looking at your and Caius’ anger, and Aro’s amusement, decided to be the voice of calmness, trying to help you relax. He glanced disinterestedly at the card before closing his eyes for a second. “This hardly changes something…” He murmured, voice barely above a whisper, hoping to help to relax the tension in the room. 

Aro tilted his head, his expression thoughtful as his eyes flickered between the card in his hands and your mates and yourself. “Ah, but it gives us an insight into their plans… doesn’t it?” he said, his tone playful, though it carried an edge of something dangerous, something you couldn’t quite place just yet. Seeing you stretching your hand towards him, he handed the invitation to you, letting you snatch it with a bit of irritation.  

“Do they truly believe they can ignore our authority this way?” Caius snarled, voice dripping with anger and venom. 

“Love, you know the Cullens… as usual, they think their happy union absolves them of their obligations and responsibilities…” You said towards Caius, trying to decide if you were feeling angry over their disregard of the rules or if, at this point, you were bored of how predictable they were. 

Aro rose slowly from his throne, his graceful movements echoing centuries of refinement and control. His expression turned contemplative as he turned around and glanced at his brothers and you. “Let us not act rashly…” He started, showing a smile that hid a sharp edge. “There is still time to see if the Cullens uphold their word… After all, the turning of Bella could be the same night of the wedding or even before the ceremony… And well, if they do not comply with the rules…” Finally, Aro’s eyes showed the playful and dangerous gleam that promised a dark future for the Cullens. “Then we shall remind them of the cost of defiance.”

It seemed that his words placated Caius’ anger, because your strong mate showed a sharp smile and relaxed in his throne for a second before standing up. Marcus, letting out a sigh, also got out of his throne and offered you his hand, helping you up. The four of you started to leave the room, strides regal and silent against the marble floors.

Behind your group, Valentina, the human secretary, stood frozen in her place, eyes wide and darting nervously around the chamber. She had done her job, while clumsily, and delivered the invitation as instructed, but now she remained a trembling mortal among the immortal predators in the room. Valentina was a good secretary, you liked her a bit, sadly, your mates weren’t so fond of her and with her being the one to deliver not so pleasant news… Well. 

Aro’s voice, soft but chilling, drifted back to the room while the group was walking out. “Dispose of her,” he said, not even looking at the human woman inside, almost as an afterthought. 

Your gaze snapped to her just in time to see her knees buckle. The tray clattered to the floor, and before she could even process what was happening, the Volturi guards emerged from the shadows of the room - silent, efficient, dangerous, and utterly devoid of any sight of mercy, gripping her arms in an unyielding hold.

Aro tutted, stepping toward her with a slow, almost gentle movement. “Dear Valentina,” he murmured, “such fragile creatures, humans.”

Valentina trembled violently, her pleading eyes darting between you and the kings, begging for something—mercy, perhaps. But you remained still, knowing how these things played out. There was no saving her. Your mates, unlike you, didn’t spare her another glance. Sure, her fate was sealed from the moment she entered the room with that invitation, but still, you would look at her and do your best to remember the poor girl that had lived a couple of months among you.

“You have served well,” Aro continued, “but you’ve seen too much.”

Her lips parted, but no sound came out.

Aro’s smile returned, warm and deceptive. “Don’t worry, dear one. This will be quick.”

And after those words, she barely had time to let out a choked gasp before she was whisked away to an adjoining chamber, where the pile of lifeless bodies of her predecessors awaited. The last thing you saw was her tear-filled eyes while the guards took her away.

You would save her if you could, but even as the kings’ mate, you could never deny or defy their authority, not in front of the other vampires… to do so, it would make your mates look as weak and unreliable, and that wasn’t something they could afford. 

The room fell silent once more, the faint scent of Valentina’s blood lingering in the air, and with that, you turned around and followed the kings out of the room. While walking, you kept listening to the murmurs of your mates’ discussion in the distance, their soft and velvety voices echoing faintly through the cold, stone corridos. Now, the question lingered, what would the Cullens do next? 

I'll listen to boring songs and stare out the window

I'll put on a dress and I'll dance for you.

Tell me if I'm mad.

Someday the wind will carry me away.

Now we're two people I can't remember

In the breathtaking halls of the Volturi castle, every step taken by Carlisle, Jasper, Emmett, Rosalie, and Esme resonated with a mixture of trepidation and resolution. Bella, Edward and Alice weren’t there, not willing to risk putting Bella in front of the Kings again, especially not after the horrible situation they were subjected to before. Besides, Alice wanted Bella to concentrate on her future wedding, the little vampire had managed to take control of all the planning, but she was still trying to get the human to be more involved. After all, this was the end of her life like she knew it and the start of the new life she had dreamed of for so long. In the castle, the atmosphere was thick with the weight of impending revelation and request, as well as clung to the air as they approached the thrones where the formidable triumvirate of Aro, Caius, and Marcus sat in judgement, you, sitting by their side, waited the right moment to attack. You knew that the Cullens would do something stupid. In fact, you expected it. You were almost begging them to give you the chance to put them in their place.

As the Olympic coven advanced towards the throne room, the ghosts of past events hovered over them like spectres. The memory of Edward's betrayal and foolish actions, as well as Bella’s reckless behaviour, made a fissure in their familial bond, and it loomed large in their collective consciousness. After all, even if they were part of the same family, there were moments when they didn’t support or like Edward’s decisions. It was in that moment that they remembered the burden of concealing the harsh truth from you, that they remembered how they broke the heart of one of their own and in consequence, pushed you away with their indifference and careless actions. It was in their blindness that they hurt you in ways they couldn’t begin to comprehend and it was that what gnawed at their conscience, forming a silent undercurrent beneath their outward composure.

The vampires of the Olympic coven entered the grand chamber, or the room of judgement -as some liked to call it- where the three Kings and you awaited with keen scrutiny. It was under their harsh and bloodied eyes that the Cullens couldn't escape the echo of their past actions. Still, Aro, always the good and charismatic host, greeted them with a polite smile, though a flicker of a mischievous gleam danced in his eyes.

"Welcome Carlisle, my dear friend, I see that you brought part of your family…" Aro's velvety voice resonated, masking a subtle wariness. "To what do we owe the pleasure of your visit?"

Carlisle, always willing to act like the paragon of reason and compassion, stepped forward, trying to show his demeanour as poised yet respectful. "Aro… my lords, we have come to inform you of a significant development among our family members," he began, his gaze briefly meeting those of Jasper, Emmett, and Rosalie, who shared the weight of this revelation. They weren’t sure if this was the right course of action, knowing how changing and hidden Aro’s emotions could be, this news could work in their favour or against them. Sure, Marcus was there to be the voice of reason, the king being one of the most compassionate and disinterested in the actions of his fellow vampires, but, Caius was also there, the king being prone to anger and violent reactions, the news could irk him and in consequence, he would push the turning date for Bella closer to the present, something they were trying to avoid… and you… Sure, legally you didn’t have any power just yet. Still, the kings were willing to hear your opinions and usually accepted your judgement over different situations, so if you decided to get rightful revenge, nobody could ensure the Cullen's safety. 

Rosalie, uncharacteristically direct, stepped into the spotlight with a hint of defiance in her voice. Sure, she didn’t want to be there, not wanting to help Edward ruin a girl’s life by turning her into the monster they were, but still, she couldn’t find in herself to be quiet and just let the kings toy with her family. "Edward and Bella are planning to marry," she declared, her eyes betraying a glimmer of frustration at the idea of the impending wedding. She didn’t support this marriage, not only because she hated the idea of Bella giving up her youth, life and capacity of having children for a lonely and cold life as a monster always running and never having a normal relationship, but because she hated how Edward had broken your heart, just to chase after a teenager. 

The mention of Bella's name drew a subtle disapproval from Marcus, the usually impassive expression on his face showing a flicker of discomfort. Sure, he was the calmest of his brothers and he usually never cared too much for anything but that had changed with your arrival to the castle, he was more involved now, more caring and well, even if he wanted to hide it, he got angry now, especially when it was related to someone that hurt you. So, he, understanding the pain that Bella's involvement had caused you, was a bit upset about hearing about the girl’s life. Not only that, but he was aware of the fact that your pain was only adding another layer of complexity to an already intricate situation.

Caius, with his penetrating eyes and composed demeanour, regarded them intently. "Yes… we received the invitation… what does this have to do with us?" he inquired with an arched brow, a hint of scepticism lacing his words. He didn’t care for a wedding, he was just thinking about the fact that Bella was still human and that the Cullens had less time to follow their ruling. He also knew that behind Aro’s playful smile and Marcus’ lack of interest, they were a bit annoyed by the fact that the Cullens seemed to be doing whatever they wanted. Especially after you so kindly offered them the chance to redeem themselves. The Cullens were being reckless, acting like they could do anything and be free of any type of punishment. Sure, Carlisle was an old friend and that gave him certain liberties that  not every vampire was entitled to but that wasn’t an excuse to act like he owned the place. 

Carlisle took -an unnecessary, but more emotional than anything- deep breath, a sense of responsibility guiding his words. "My lords, Bella's transformation has been scheduled, and, as you know, the wedding is set to take place soon," he explained. "We understand the implications of our actions and the consequences they bear… but we wanted to ask for more time."

As soon as you heard Carlisle’s words you couldn’t help but seethe with anger. How dare they? How could they be so shameless to ask for more chances after the special treatment that the Vulturi had given them until now? Not only that but it felt almost like a joke, choosing the date set as a limit for Bella’s transformation as the wedding date. It felt like a way to mock the Vulturi. You couldn’t help but let out a soft unhappy sound. It was really quiet, but still, it pushed the Cullens to look at you with apprehension. 

Our smile remained gorgeous but his eyes betrayed a clean of dysplasia well you can never lie with your eyes so it was obvious that he wasn't pleased with the reasons behind this reunion. “ you don't realize that you're behind schedule correct?”   he reminded Carlisle and the other Cullens.  it was obvious that Arrow was quite satisfied being the one making that question. “ you promised that Bella was going to be turned in a year and now it would be longer than what we agreed originally…”  

You lifted your hand and looked at your former family. If you didn't know them you will be confused and maybe even shocked… But you knew them do you understand the way they thought and they try to change the rules every time they didn't get what they wanted so you can help but feel resentful and angry. Sure! You were also a bit proud of their audacity. After all, no other vampire family would dare to ask for a second chance or try to change the rules that the Vulturi had previously established. 

Still, the pride could disappear, the anger, on the other side… Oh, the anger stayed present.. how dare they? How could they come here, asking for an extension without even considering the political ramifications of what they were asking from the kings and you?  “I must say that we are quite surprised by the fact that you invited us to a ceremony that is going to be on the same date we agreed for young Bella's transformation… huh, it’s funny, right?” 

You made a pause almost letting your words sink the mind of the people that were around you. “ it's almost like you are trying to portray the idea that we are accepting this Union between a vampire and a human it's almost like you're trying to make it seem like you are winning some type of internal war between our covens…”  you showed a sharp smirk towards the Cullens. “ even though there's no conflict we made a rule we reach an agreement between our families and accepted but now you want to change everything so, it's quite funny that you are trying to push us to make exactly what you wanted from the start…” 

Emmet’s jaw tightened, showing his tension. Your teddy bear of an older brother was clearly uncomfortable with the whole situation. Still, he was trying to help his father and Edward. Always the one willing to face any danger to protect his family. “We are aware of the timing…” He answered, and even if he was supposed to be talking to the kings, he didn’t stop looking directly into your eyes. 

“We are also aware that we are asking for much, still, please understand, we faced some unexpected issues that stopped the preparations for Bella’s turning… That’s why we came here to ask for more time now that everything has returned to normal… We will follow the instructions given before, but… please… we are just asking for a couple of months just a couple of months they will have the ceremony they will get married and on their honeymoon, Bella is going to be turned into a vampire.”

Jasper, your poor brother, the empathetic soul among the Cullens. You didn’t feel any resentment against him, you knew that he was desperate to be accepted by the Cullens and that he always thought himself weak because he was the newest member of the coven. It was clear that Jasper endeavoured to appeal to the king’s sense of understanding, to try to make them look like simple victims of the circumstances. “Please, we have come here to ask for your mercy and comprehension, we are just asking for a couple of months just a couple of months they will have the ceremony they will get married and on their honeymoon, Bella is going to be turned into a vampire…” 

The air in the throne room grew thick with the weight of unspoken words. They were asking for more time, for a second chance. It was obvious that the emotional fallout between you and the Cullens was something Carlisle and Edward didn’t think would affect this request. It was obvious that they didn’t realise the pull and power you had on your mates.

Fools. 

Why am I like the wind, like the clouds

Why don't I have wings that float to the sky?

Like the stars, like the moon, that wrap everything in their embrace

Like the stars, like the moon, that encompass everything…

[magmagicstyle]

DRESS (A)

⚠️WARNING⚠️: Ehm… Death? Poor Valentina?

Pairings: male!reader x The Volturi kings.

Slumbering with you in front of the mirror, fingertips of crimson.

Your hand suddenly showed weakness and covered your lips.

I made a promise to you that day.

Now it's just the two of us, no more memories.

The gorgeous and dimly lit halls of the Volturi Castle carried an air of solemnity and danger. It was as if a predator was ready to attack at any second… which, after thinking about it for a few seconds, wasn’t too far from reality. In the grand throne room, Aro, Caius, Marcus, and you sat upon your elevated thrones, the kings' expressions unreadable but their sole presence was commanding. 

You, on the other hand, were simply... bored. So bored that you silently wished for anything remotely interesting to happen. As if the universe had heard your plea, the silence was broken by the faint sound of approaching footsteps—Valentina, the new human secretary of your mates, cautiously making her way forward. Valentina was pretty and quiet as a mouse, which was perfect since the sole reason why she had been chosen for the job was her beauty and obedience to the kings. Of course, now her beauty was being tainted by her harsh actions, her hands were trembling to the point the delicately designed envelope she carried was shaking in her hold and her steps were clumsy and rash, the heels of her shoes making unpleasant noises against the floor.

The candlelight flickered as she stepped closer, her hands trembling as she held out a silver tray with an ornate envelope resting on top. The details glimmering softly as Valentina handed it to Aro. Your mate’s pale and slender fingers brushed the edges of the paper as he accepted it with a peculiar and a bit unnerving smile. You sighed, already knowing this wasn’t going to be the distraction you had hoped for. After all, Aro’s smile was obviously fake… The amusement didn’t even reach his crimson eyes. You hated that smile—the one he faked so well, masking whatever real thoughts lurked beneath.

“What do we have here?” Aro mused, his voice smooth as silk but edged with amusement.

Valentina swallowed hard, clearly aware of the weight of her position. “An invitation, Master Aro,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

You shifted in your seat, watching as he opened the envelope with care, sliding the card out and carefully inspecting its contents.. The wax seal bore an emblem you recognized instantly—the Cullens. You were able to glance at the invitation over Aro’s shoulder and… you had to give it to them, the Cullens had always been meticulous in their presentation and aesthetic, and this was no exception. Still, your stomach twisted slightly, though you forced yourself to remain expressionless.

“Ah,” Aro murmured, his voice as soft and smooth as always, though an undertone of curiosity laced his words... that was new. Your mate’s lips curved into a faint smile as he read the words silently. “Edward and Bella…” Aro said in a breathy whisper. “It appears our dear friends in Forks have something to celebrate.” He added, looking at his brothers and you from his seat.

Caius scoffed from his throne, his irritation barely contained. “What nonsense have they devised this time?”

Aro’s crimson eyes scanned the paper, and a slow, almost amused chuckle left his lips. “A wedding… how delightful!”

Silence stretched across the room. Marcus, ever the quiet observer, barely reacted. You, however, felt something cold settle in your chest.

Edward.

Of course, it was fucking Edward.

You leaned back, folding your arms as Aro passed the invitation between his fingers. He didn’t look at you, but you knew he was aware of the storm brewing beneath your calm facade. Was it with the Cullens and being unable to follow simple instructions? Seriously, it was quite predictable at this point. Tell the Cullens to follow a rule or do something, they’ll ignore it and try to avoid the consequences of their actions. 

Caius’ piercing eyes narrowed at the card in Aro’s hands and then looked at his brother with distaste. “Delightful? No, Aro, this is a declaration, a way to announce her future union even if she’s still a human… This-” he motioned angrily towards the card and opened his mouth to continue but found his disdain too strong to continue.

“This is a way of mocking the Volturi, my king… they are mocking us for giving them another chance and they are making it obvious by daring to invite us to this union…”  You finished, expression twisting with anger.

Marcus, looking at your and Caius’ anger, and Aro’s amusement, decided to be the voice of calmness, trying to help you relax. He glanced disinterestedly at the card before closing his eyes for a second. “This hardly changes something…” He murmured, voice barely above a whisper, hoping to help to relax the tension in the room. 

Aro tilted his head, his expression thoughtful as his eyes flickered between the card in his hands and your mates and yourself. “Ah, but it gives us an insight into their plans… doesn’t it?” he said, his tone playful, though it carried an edge of something dangerous, something you couldn’t quite place just yet. Seeing you stretching your hand towards him, he handed the invitation to you, letting you snatch it with a bit of irritation.  

“Do they truly believe they can ignore our authority this way?” Caius snarled, voice dripping with anger and venom. 

“Love, you know the Cullens… as usual, they think their happy union absolves them of their obligations and responsibilities…” You said towards Caius, trying to decide if you were feeling angry over their disregard of the rules or if, at this point, you were bored of how predictable they were. 

Aro rose slowly from his throne, his graceful movements echoing centuries of refinement and control. His expression turned contemplative as he turned around and glanced at his brothers and you. “Let us not act rashly…” He started, showing a smile that hid a sharp edge. “There is still time to see if the Cullens uphold their word… After all, the turning of Bella could be the same night of the wedding or even before the ceremony… And well, if they do not comply with the rules…” Finally, Aro’s eyes showed the playful and dangerous gleam that promised a dark future for the Cullens. “Then we shall remind them of the cost of defiance.”

It seemed that his words placated Caius’ anger, because your strong mate showed a sharp smile and relaxed in his throne for a second before standing up. Marcus, letting out a sigh, also got out of his throne and offered you his hand, helping you up. The four of you started to leave the room, strides regal and silent against the marble floors.

Behind your group, Valentina, the human secretary, stood frozen in her place, eyes wide and darting nervously around the chamber. She had done her job, while clumsily, and delivered the invitation as instructed, but now she remained a trembling mortal among the immortal predators in the room. Valentina was a good secretary, you liked her a bit, sadly, your mates weren’t so fond of her and with her being the one to deliver not so pleasant news… Well. 

Aro’s voice, soft but chilling, drifted back to the room while the group was walking out. “Dispose of her,” he said, not even looking at the human woman inside, almost as an afterthought. 

Your gaze snapped to her just in time to see her knees buckle. The tray clattered to the floor, and before she could even process what was happening, the Volturi guards emerged from the shadows of the room - silent, efficient, dangerous, and utterly devoid of any sight of mercy, gripping her arms in an unyielding hold.

Aro tutted, stepping toward her with a slow, almost gentle movement. “Dear Valentina,” he murmured, “such fragile creatures, humans.”

Valentina trembled violently, her pleading eyes darting between you and the kings, begging for something—mercy, perhaps. But you remained still, knowing how these things played out. There was no saving her. Your mates, unlike you, didn’t spare her another glance. Sure, her fate was sealed from the moment she entered the room with that invitation, but still, you would look at her and do your best to remember the poor girl that had lived a couple of months among you.

“You have served well,” Aro continued, “but you’ve seen too much.”

Her lips parted, but no sound came out.

Aro’s smile returned, warm and deceptive. “Don’t worry, dear one. This will be quick.”

And after those words, she barely had time to let out a choked gasp before she was whisked away to an adjoining chamber, where the pile of lifeless bodies of her predecessors awaited. The last thing you saw was her tear-filled eyes while the guards took her away.

You would save her if you could, but even as the kings’ mate, you could never deny or defy their authority, not in front of the other vampires… to do so, it would make your mates look as weak and unreliable, and that wasn’t something they could afford. 

The room fell silent once more, the faint scent of Valentina’s blood lingering in the air, and with that, you turned around and followed the kings out of the room. While walking, you kept listening to the murmurs of your mates’ discussion in the distance, their soft and velvety voices echoing faintly through the cold, stone corridos. Now, the question lingered, what would the Cullens do next? 

I'll listen to boring songs and stare out the window

I'll put on a dress and I'll dance for you.

Tell me if I'm mad.

Someday the wind will carry me away.

Now we're two people I can't remember

In the breathtaking halls of the Volturi castle, every step taken by Carlisle, Jasper, Emmett, Rosalie, and Esme resonated with a mixture of trepidation and resolution. Bella, Edward and Alice weren’t there, not willing to risk putting Bella in front of the Kings again, especially not after the horrible situation they were subjected to before. Besides, Alice wanted Bella to concentrate on her future wedding, the little vampire had managed to take control of all the planning, but she was still trying to get the human to be more involved. After all, this was the end of her life like she knew it and the start of the new life she had dreamed of for so long. In the castle, the atmosphere was thick with the weight of impending revelation and request, as well as clung to the air as they approached the thrones where the formidable triumvirate of Aro, Caius, and Marcus sat in judgement, you, sitting by their side, waited the right moment to attack. You knew that the Cullens would do something stupid. In fact, you expected it. You were almost begging them to give you the chance to put them in their place.

As the Olympic coven advanced towards the throne room, the ghosts of past events hovered over them like spectres. The memory of Edward's betrayal and foolish actions, as well as Bella’s reckless behaviour, made a fissure in their familial bond, and it loomed large in their collective consciousness. After all, even if they were part of the same family, there were moments when they didn’t support or like Edward’s decisions. It was in that moment that they remembered the burden of concealing the harsh truth from you, that they remembered how they broke the heart of one of their own and in consequence, pushed you away with their indifference and careless actions. It was in their blindness that they hurt you in ways they couldn’t begin to comprehend and it was that what gnawed at their conscience, forming a silent undercurrent beneath their outward composure.

The vampires of the Olympic coven entered the grand chamber, or the room of judgement -as some liked to call it- where the three Kings and you awaited with keen scrutiny. It was under their harsh and bloodied eyes that the Cullens couldn't escape the echo of their past actions. Still, Aro, always the good and charismatic host, greeted them with a polite smile, though a flicker of a mischievous gleam danced in his eyes.

"Welcome Carlisle, my dear friend, I see that you brought part of your family…" Aro's velvety voice resonated, masking a subtle wariness. "To what do we owe the pleasure of your visit?"

Carlisle, always willing to act like the paragon of reason and compassion, stepped forward, trying to show his demeanour as poised yet respectful. "Aro… my lords, we have come to inform you of a significant development among our family members," he began, his gaze briefly meeting those of Jasper, Emmett, and Rosalie, who shared the weight of this revelation. They weren’t sure if this was the right course of action, knowing how changing and hidden Aro’s emotions could be, this news could work in their favour or against them. Sure, Marcus was there to be the voice of reason, the king being one of the most compassionate and disinterested in the actions of his fellow vampires, but, Caius was also there, the king being prone to anger and violent reactions, the news could irk him and in consequence, he would push the turning date for Bella closer to the present, something they were trying to avoid… and you… Sure, legally you didn’t have any power just yet. Still, the kings were willing to hear your opinions and usually accepted your judgement over different situations, so if you decided to get rightful revenge, nobody could ensure the Cullen's safety. 

Rosalie, uncharacteristically direct, stepped into the spotlight with a hint of defiance in her voice. Sure, she didn’t want to be there, not wanting to help Edward ruin a girl’s life by turning her into the monster they were, but still, she couldn’t find in herself to be quiet and just let the kings toy with her family. "Edward and Bella are planning to marry," she declared, her eyes betraying a glimmer of frustration at the idea of the impending wedding. She didn’t support this marriage, not only because she hated the idea of Bella giving up her youth, life and capacity of having children for a lonely and cold life as a monster always running and never having a normal relationship, but because she hated how Edward had broken your heart, just to chase after a teenager. 

The mention of Bella's name drew a subtle disapproval from Marcus, the usually impassive expression on his face showing a flicker of discomfort. Sure, he was the calmest of his brothers and he usually never cared too much for anything but that had changed with your arrival to the castle, he was more involved now, more caring and well, even if he wanted to hide it, he got angry now, especially when it was related to someone that hurt you. So, he, understanding the pain that Bella's involvement had caused you, was a bit upset about hearing about the girl’s life. Not only that, but he was aware of the fact that your pain was only adding another layer of complexity to an already intricate situation.

Caius, with his penetrating eyes and composed demeanour, regarded them intently. "Yes… we received the invitation… what does this have to do with us?" he inquired with an arched brow, a hint of scepticism lacing his words. He didn’t care for a wedding, he was just thinking about the fact that Bella was still human and that the Cullens had less time to follow their ruling. He also knew that behind Aro’s playful smile and Marcus’ lack of interest, they were a bit annoyed by the fact that the Cullens seemed to be doing whatever they wanted. Especially after you so kindly offered them the chance to redeem themselves. The Cullens were being reckless, acting like they could do anything and be free of any type of punishment. Sure, Carlisle was an old friend and that gave him certain liberties that  not every vampire was entitled to but that wasn’t an excuse to act like he owned the place. 

Carlisle took -an unnecessary, but more emotional than anything- deep breath, a sense of responsibility guiding his words. "My lords, Bella's transformation has been scheduled, and, as you know, the wedding is set to take place soon," he explained. "We understand the implications of our actions and the consequences they bear… but we wanted to ask for more time."

As soon as you heard Carlisle’s words you couldn’t help but seethe with anger. How dare they? How could they be so shameless to ask for more chances after the special treatment that the Vulturi had given them until now? Not only that but it felt almost like a joke, choosing the date set as a limit for Bella’s transformation as the wedding date. It felt like a way to mock the Vulturi. You couldn’t help but let out a soft unhappy sound. It was really quiet, but still, it pushed the Cullens to look at you with apprehension. 

Our smile remained gorgeous but his eyes betrayed a clean of dysplasia well you can never lie with your eyes so it was obvious that he wasn't pleased with the reasons behind this reunion. “ you don't realize that you're behind schedule correct?”   he reminded Carlisle and the other Cullens.  it was obvious that Arrow was quite satisfied being the one making that question. “ you promised that Bella was going to be turned in a year and now it would be longer than what we agreed originally…”  

You lifted your hand and looked at your former family. If you didn't know them you will be confused and maybe even shocked… But you knew them do you understand the way they thought and they try to change the rules every time they didn't get what they wanted so you can help but feel resentful and angry. Sure! You were also a bit proud of their audacity. After all, no other vampire family would dare to ask for a second chance or try to change the rules that the Vulturi had previously established. 

Still, the pride could disappear, the anger, on the other side… Oh, the anger stayed present.. how dare they? How could they come here, asking for an extension without even considering the political ramifications of what they were asking from the kings and you?  “I must say that we are quite surprised by the fact that you invited us to a ceremony that is going to be on the same date we agreed for young Bella's transformation… huh, it’s funny, right?” 

You made a pause almost letting your words sink the mind of the people that were around you. “ it's almost like you are trying to portray the idea that we are accepting this Union between a vampire and a human it's almost like you're trying to make it seem like you are winning some type of internal war between our covens…”  you showed a sharp smirk towards the Cullens. “ even though there's no conflict we made a rule we reach an agreement between our families and accepted but now you want to change everything so, it's quite funny that you are trying to push us to make exactly what you wanted from the start…” 

Emmet’s jaw tightened, showing his tension. Your teddy bear of an older brother was clearly uncomfortable with the whole situation. Still, he was trying to help his father and Edward. Always the one willing to face any danger to protect his family. “We are aware of the timing…” He answered, and even if he was supposed to be talking to the kings, he didn’t stop looking directly into your eyes. 

“We are also aware that we are asking for much, still, please understand, we faced some unexpected issues that stopped the preparations for Bella’s turning… That’s why we came here to ask for more time now that everything has returned to normal… We will follow the instructions given before, but… please… we are just asking for a couple of months just a couple of months they will have the ceremony they will get married and on their honeymoon, Bella is going to be turned into a vampire.”

Jasper, your poor brother, the empathetic soul among the Cullens. You didn’t feel any resentment against him, you knew that he was desperate to be accepted by the Cullens and that he always thought himself weak because he was the newest member of the coven. It was clear that Jasper endeavoured to appeal to the king’s sense of understanding, to try to make them look like simple victims of the circumstances. “Please, we have come here to ask for your mercy and comprehension, we are just asking for a couple of months just a couple of months they will have the ceremony they will get married and on their honeymoon, Bella is going to be turned into a vampire…” 

The air in the throne room grew thick with the weight of unspoken words. They were asking for more time, for a second chance. It was obvious that the emotional fallout between you and the Cullens was something Carlisle and Edward didn’t think would affect this request. It was obvious that they didn’t realise the pull and power you had on your mates.

Fools. 

Why am I like the wind, like the clouds

Why don't I have wings that float to the sky?

Like the stars, like the moon, that wrap everything in their embrace

Like the stars, like the moon, that encompass everything…

[magmagicstyle]

MY FRIEND

Conner in his sad boy hours, reflects, and tries to confess his feelings for Tim... and then... he fails without even trying... so... more sad boy hours.

(I don't know how to write summaries)

Hahaha, so... this was a Patreon early and I was supposed to post it two weeks ago but I got mixed up in some family things and then I got sick so... Sorry about that. BUT! Here it is, hope you like it and if you want to, leave kudos and comments and don't hate me too much. Thanks <3 Also, I don't know if I should leave it here or write a second part so... we will see, haha

The sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm glow across the city of Metropolis, the light almost comforting in its soft gleam against the buildings before him. Conner Kent, Kon-El, also known as the capped hero Superboy, stood atop a tall skyscraper, his gaze fixed on the bustling streets below, watching the people and cars pass by. It had been a long day of crime-fighting, but his mind was preoccupied with thoughts of a different kind. 

His thoughts, without being able to stop, to go back to focus on the people of his city and its people, turned to Tim Drake, Timothy, aka Red Robin. Tim was his friend, partner, and someone who had unknowingly, inevitably, stolen his heart. It was unexpected, unable to help himself or prevent the disaster it would cause in his mind, Conner was assaulted by the feeling of love that pounded in his chest and made him feel breathless every time he thought of Tim. Sure, Conner had always been drawn to Tim’s intelligence, quick thinking, and his unwavering dedication to justice. But lately, his feelings had evolved without his permission, turning into something deeper, something he couldn’t ignore no matter how much he wanted to push it away. 

Conner remembered the countless nights he had spent with Tim, the many missions and the days they lived together in the tower of San Francisco. His mind would go and without his permission, he remembered their closeness, the times they cared for each other when one of them was hurt, were their jokes and hugs when they fell asleep next to each other after a team night in the tower. They had an undeniable connection, a bond forged through shared experiences and a mutual understanding of the dangers they faced. They had become more than friends: they were a team, an unstoppable force fighting for a common cause.

But, because of this, because of the damn connection he had with Tim, he was the friend that went with his Robin when he needed him. When Tim wanted to talk about his personal life, when he wanted to brag about his boyfriend when he wanted to ask for some relationship advice, Tim would go to Conner… and well, Conner's heart ached every time he had to act like the cool friend who was willing to listen to whatever Tim had to say. It hurt so much when he saw Tim with someone else, someone who wasn't him. And of course, it was no secret that Tim had been dating Bernard, a classmate. So, Conner would force a smile and offer him support, masking the inner turmoil and pain that threatened to consume him. It was every time Tim would say how wonderful Bernard was that Conner couldn't help but wonder if he had missed his chance and if his feelings for Tim would forever go unrequited.

He remembered the moments they had spent alone, their stolen moments amidst the chaos, small moments of peace and complicity in the midst of their busy lives. Whether it was training in the San Francisco tower or helping him in his latest investigation, there was an undeniable spark between them. Everyone could tell! And well... Conner treasured those stolen glances, the shared smiles that hinted at something more. It felt like the two of them had a secret between them, a secret so precious that no one else could know what it.

As he thought about his friendship with the third Robin, Conner couldn't help but focus on Tim's heartbeat. Listening to his heartbeat, knowing that it was now beating for someone else, sent a pang of jealousy coursing through Conner's veins. He understood that he couldn't blame Tim for moving on with his life and finding happiness with someone who was willing to share glances with him, willing to be a break from the life they led, but that didn't make the ache in his heart any less painful. Conner could have confessed, could have said what he thought of Tim, how he truly felt about the boy he called “his best friend,” but he didn't. Like a coward, he had let his fear of rejection and the uncertainty of his circumstances hold him back, and now he was left with only regret.

Still, a part of Conner longed to tell Tim how he felt, to reveal the depths of his affection and longing. There was a deluded, innocent part of his heart that longed to fly to Tim's side, to hug him, kiss him, and tell him how much he loved him. But the fear of losing their friendship, of complicating the delicate balance they had reached, held him back. He refused to destroy Tim's happiness, so he kept silent, enjoying their moments together and hiding his longings, trying to concentrate on the friendship they shared.

But as he stood there, overlooking the city he had sworn to protect, feeling so far away but so close to Tim, feeling that unique connection he shared with the other hero, Conner made himself a silent promise. He wasn't going to continue being a coward, he was going to put fear aside, and he wasn't going to let it rule his heart any longer. He was terrified, he wasn't going to try to fool himself and tell himself he wasn't afraid, but then again, Conner deserved to be happy too, he wanted to be happy too.... Even if it meant risking their friendship, risking the normalcy they had grown accustomed to.

Conner took a deep breath, trying to calm his heart, trying to remain calm. After a few seconds in which he decided he was calm enough, Conner dropped from the roof and flew away from the lights of Metropolis and flew in the direction of Tim, following his beloved's heartbeat like the North Star. With every meter she advanced, her determination grew stronger, she was going to do it... she was going to confess. Conner still wasn't sure how, but one way or another, he was going to see his way to express his feelings to Tim, to let him know that while he adored being considered his friend, his heart wept with love every time he thought of him. 

As he flew through the silent sky, listening to the noise of the city in the distance, Conner's thoughts were consumed by all the memories he had of the times he had spent together with Tim. The laughter, the late-night conversations, the moments of vulnerability...all of it painted a vivid picture of the bond they shared. It was undeniable and Conner had been a fool not to notice before another boy came along and tried to sneak into the rodeo to try and steal Tim's heart. Regardless, Conner wasn't about to let any more moments and opportunities slip through his fingers, he refused to let their unspoken affection fade into the shadows.

Arriving outside Tim's penthouse at Gotham, Conner sought solace in the slightly familiar surroundings. Having been invited in earlier, and having spent time with Tim inside the place he now observed from the outside, all of this was helping him to feel a certain calm and comfort. He found himself floating outside the living room, observing the place that was dimly lit by a floor lamp. This is the place where they had spent countless hours talking about everything and nothing, hours where he had tried to help Tim with some case, the space where they had been able to have deep conversations and where they had shared secrets. It was there that he felt closest to Tim, their connection not only amplified by the love they had for their work helping people but also by different things they had noticed they shared with each other.

There, floating in mid-air, surrounded by the echoes that appeared in his mind due to the memories and (slightly overwhelmed) by the noise of the city, Conner turned to the screen that currently functioned as the only physical obstacle he had to achieve his goal. His reflection against the slightly darkened glass was staring back at him. Tim had said it was for privacy.... Though Conner couldn't fathom what more privacy he could ask for, considering he lived on the top floor of one of Gotham's tallest buildings. His face looked like a mask of determination and longing. Conner was not delusional, and although he hadn't been “alive” that long, he wasn't so naive to think that as soon as he confessed his feelings, Tim would say he loved him too and they would fly off into the sunset. No, Conner was aware that if he confessed his feelings, the road to the new normal, or the road to maintaining his friendship with Tim, was going to be filled with uncertainty and a bit of insecurity. But, either way, he was ready to give her face and do whatever work was necessary. 

“Tim,” Conner whispered, practicing again the words he had been thinking all along as he flew to his destination. “I can't keep hiding my feelings any longer. I need to tell you the truth, even if it means risking everything.” Her voice was full of hope and trepidation, her hands trembled slightly and surprisingly she felt as if she was sweating due to nerves. 

Conner knew he could no longer live in the shadows, regardless of the outcome, he had to say what he felt. Even if he was dying of fear, he had to be true to himself, to his feelings and try to take a leap of faith. After all, it was better to have loved and lost than to live a lifetime of regret.

Conner paused for a few seconds, floating gently in front of the imposing screens of Tim's penthouse, and the cold Gotham air did nothing to calm the storm he felt in his chest. His heart was pounding harder than in the middle of a fight, and his normally steady palms were clammy. God, sweating was so weird. He was Superboy, THE SUPERBOY, what was he doing sweating in front of the apartment of the guy he liked, where had all his confidence gone? No, he wasn't going to put this off any longer, Conner took a deep breath and started to move closer to the apartment partition. 

Just as he was about to move closer to the sliding door to open it and seek out Tim for the much-needed conversation Conner wanted to have, he noticed Tim coming out of the kitchen and walking through the living room. The image of Tim was so sudden, so startling that Conner had to pause for a second to breathe. Tim looked ethereal, his smooth, comfortable appearance, clearly softened by the security provided by his home, only shone brighter as he was framed by the glare of the city lights. The hero of Gotham stood near the bulkhead, a cup in his hands, looking out, and though his posture was relaxed, his eyes held a subtle darkness... It was as if the weight of the world rested on Tim's shoulders. Conner pursed his lips at the sight of him. Tim always seemed to be planning his next three steps in advance, but to Conner it seemed...

Just perfect.

He swallowed hard, his resolve wavering for the umpteenth time that night. Why had he come? The words he'd rehearsed a dozen times on the way here were now tangled in his throat. What if he screwed up? What if he didn't know how to express his feelings and ended up making a fool of himself? What if Tim laughed at him? No. Tim would never do that... His best friend was very sweet when he wanted to be and if he didn't love him back, he would possibly apologize to Conner and try to reject him in the nicest way possible. 

But then Tim turned his beautiful blue eyes, piercing as ice, fixed on Conner as if he had sensed him even before he landed.

“Conner,” Tim said, his tone warm despite his teasing expression.

Conner did his best to flash a playful and somewhat flirtatious smile, a classic Superboy grin. Though, deep down, he wasn't sure it was convincing. “Fuck, you're good.”

Tim opened the sliding door, letting him in, and Conner started to move towards the screen, trying to ignore how his pulse was racing at being so close to Tim.

“You're supposed to call before you come,” Tim said, his voice dry but amused. It was clear Tim wasn't mad at him. Conner knew his friend too well to misinterpret the soft playful tone that was in his voice. It was very subtle, almost imperceptible to other people, but Conner was better than that. 

“And miss that look on your face when I catch you off guard? No way,” Conner joked, forcing his usual self-confidence. He needed it to keep his hands from shaking, to stop the sweat from making its presence known on his skin.

Tim rolled his eyes, a smile betraying his affection. “What brings you here?” he glanced at the clock, ‘midnight?’ he finished his question with a raised eyebrow as he looked back at Conner.

That was the question, wasn't it? Conner hesitated and ran a hand over the back of his neck. Why did Tim always make him feel so exposed...so vulnerable? He could take on alien armies without breaking a sweat, fight villains and madmen every day and not feel afraid, but with one look from Tim, with one look from those blue eyes that showed so much affection deep down inside, he felt like a child groping awkwardly for the hand of his first crush.

“I...” Conner started, then stopped, feeling suddenly mute, the weight of his words pressing down on his chest almost painfully. He moved a little closer, searching Tim's face for some sign of what he might say if he knew - really knew - how Conner felt. Anything. He just wanted a sign, from Tim, from himself? From the world if it was possible, for goodness sake!

Tim tilted his head slightly, frowning. “What's wrong?” his voice sounded almost concerned, it seemed he had already noticed Conner's nervousness and was giving him the opportunity to speak.

The words were simple, such a short question, but the softness in Tim's voice when he spoke them almost disarmed him.

“Tim...” Conner tried again, but his voice cracked, interrupting once more, and he cursed himself for it. He clenched his fists, trying to hold his nerves. “I-”

“Tim!”

The sudden shout broke what little courage Conner had managed to muster to say the words he had been rehearsing earlier and Conner.... Conner froze, eyes darting quickly to the kitchen exit that led right into the living room.

There was a blond guy - Bernard, Conner forced himself to remember his name - who seemed as surprised by his presence as he was by the blond's presence. Bernard was in his pyjamas and holding a sandwich that seemed to have survived oblivion.

For a second, no one moved.

Bernard... 

Bernard had slept over at Tim's penthouse.

Conner couldn't help but feel a pang of jealousy at the thought of this. Was this the first time? Or were they already at the stage where Bernard was allowed to sleep over every so often with Tim? Conner couldn't remember the last time he had slept over at Tim's penthouse...and God, the thought only made his jealousy grow stronger, leaving a bitter taste in his mouth.

Please don't misunderstand, Conner didn't hate Bernard...and it wasn't that he resented Bernard. After all, the blond was a nice guy and made Tim happy. But Conner couldn't deny the pang of sadness and jealousy that squeezed his heart every time he saw them together, a constant reminder of what he didn't have.

Then Bernard's gaze seemed to gain a gleam of recognition that wasn't there before and his jaw practically hit the floor as he appeared to be in shock. “My God. Is that...are you Superboy?”

Conner blinked, completely unprepared. He had to admit that of all possibilities, he hadn't expected to hear those words come out of Tim's boyfriend's mouth.

Tim turned, his shoulders stiff as a shield, but before he could say anything, Conner sprang into action, always wanting to help Tim. No matter how much it was hurting him now.

“Yeah,” Conner said, flashing his most disarming smile, his classic media smile. “That's me. Flying around, doing my thing. You know.” He said in a playful, flirtatious tone...but unlike when he was talking to Tim, this one was slightly fake, a tone of voice carefully crafted to put on a show.

Bernard gaped, holding the forgotten sandwich in his hand. “That's awesome! Tim, how do you know Superboy?” he asked, turning to look at his boyfriend for the first time since the beginning of the whole interaction. 

Tim's eyes showed a small flash of panic that while it was so subtle it could be considered almost imperceptible, was quite evident to Conner. After all, he had spent so much time with the other boy that those micro-expressions were all too familiar. But he wasn't about to let Bernard tie up loose ends, especially when he could tell that Tim didn't want his boyfriend to know about the connection between him and Conner. So, Conner straightened up, showing his Superboy attitude again and took a step back towards the open sliding door with an easy laugh.

“Oh, Tim and I... We've crossed paths several times,” Conner said, deliberately keeping it vague. “I saw the light on in a place I'd seen before while flying between cities, and I thought I'd check and make sure everything was okay. That's all.” He finished his tale with an easy laugh. 

Tim shot him a look, half pleading, half gratitude.

“And now that I see that everything is all right,” Conner added quickly, understanding that his presence might jeopardize the secret Tim wanted to keep. “And that I seem to have interrupted something..... Well...” He didn't get to finish his thought, and simply pointed towards the window, already moving. He possibly looked as uncomfortable as he felt, but that was beyond him to fix.

He paused for a moment and his eyes bore into Tim's. God...how he wanted to say what he had come to confess...but… even if he wanted to say something else, he didn’t want to have an audience when he did it.

“Night, Tim,” he said instead, voice soft and even if he tried to hide it, slightly hopeless. Then, before he was able to see Tim’s reaction… not wanting to see his reaction… he was gone, the city rushing past him as he flew away, doing his best to run from these feelings and their consequences.

His heart felt heavier than it had when he arrived in Gotham. Sure, he asked for a sign… But the world didn’t have to be such an asshole about it.��

"Until then, my friend," Conner whispered into the empty void that the sky felt at the moment.... Even the stars seemed to be less bright than before. "I will be here, by your side, cherishing our bond and loving you in silence." He promised silently.

[magmagicstyle]

Genuine question and I mean no offense but in the Carlisle Cullen x Male Reader multi part story "Jolene" Esme POV why is Esme so creepy in that?

Being sexually attracted to mlm pairing, listening to them do it/ wanting to do it with them, doing it with Carlisle literally right after he was doing it with the reader, enjoying seeing the male reader in pain from what Carlisle was doing/ knowing what he was doing and letting it happen for that long, are we supposed to find her creepy? In parts yes I felt for her but I was left hating her by the end of reading that. After reading that I'm genuinely disturbed by esme, I loved the series (wish there was more) but Esme part really creeped me out, tbh I've always been creeped out by women over sexualizing mlm/ gay pairings.

Sorry if this seemed hateful I genuinely loved the series (kinda wish it had an alternative ending where the reader gave Carlisle a second chance) thank you for creating this series and taking the time out of your day to write for us Male Readers...

Hi! It didn't seem hateful at all, don't worry 😉. You have a real question regarding my intention while writing "Jolene" and that's completely valid. 👍🏻

Esme is creepy because the whole situation is messed up. I wrote her character to be intentionally disturbing. None of my characters (original and adapted from other stories) are meant to be perfect and some of them are deeply flawed.

What Esme did and does is wrong. No matter how much someone wants to twist it or try to make it look nice, she's doing something that is fetishizing a queer relationship and viewing emotional abuse as romance and that will never be something that can be considered right.

Let me share some annotations that I did while writing Jolene. My notes are not meant to justify Esme's actions, but maybe they will give a deeper insight... hopefully?

Hope this answers your question! Or at least starts to answer it. If you have any other questions, you can totally write again. I love it when people are curious about the stories that I write and as long as the question/comment is respectful, I'm always happy to answer. 😊

Also! Regarding this: (kinda wish it had an alternative ending where the reader gave Carlisle a second chance)

Well... we just have to wait to see what this 2025 has in store, right? 😉

[magmagicstyle]

Hey! Can you help me win a writing contest? Pretty Please 🥺❤️

Hi! I would appreciate it a lot if you liked my work and shared it to help me win hahaha

You only have to enter the link and leave a like (if you want to comment or share it so other people leave likes, it would help me a lot)

Disclaimer: This doesn't mean that what Voldemort did was right. I'm just trying to portray how he could pretend to justify it if he had a heart. (Please don't send me hate, I'm just trying to win a contest... ❤️)

TRANSLATION:

VOLDEMORT: “For the Common Good” - The Effects of Child Abuse

The night was gloomy and the fog felt too heavy, almost suffocating, but Voldemort, amid the darkness, did not blink. He stood alone, having had his followers leave after what everyone would consider a triumphant return. There, standing in the middle of the graveyard, surrounded by silent gravestones that had seen better days, his mind was racing a thousand miles an hour. He was breathing, aware of every breath his lungs took, of every part of his regenerated body that seemed to adapt to his new physical form. The scent of damp earth and raw magic hung in the air, but his mind was far away.

“They don't understand.”

The thought came suddenly, heavy as a stone crashing against a glass house. No one understood him, not the people who remained indifferent, not the people who were against him, not his own followers. He, along with a few others who had also been silenced in the past, had seen what others did not want to accept: the fragility of the peace that the magical world had.

Wizards, though powerful, were always outnumbered by Muggles, especially in recent years. And Muggles, with their ignorance, their fear and their horrible ability to create weapons of destruction and devastation that were beyond the imagination of innocent wizards, were capable of any monstrosity in the name of the common good… The common good… It was funny how the people who had hurt him the most were the ones who used that excuse for their actions. The horror, the pain… Wizards lived in a bubble to the point where they didn't understand what Muggles could do. Only Voldemort and a few others could understand, and that was because they had lived it.

Ever since he was a small boy, he had felt the contempt of the Muggles in every look he received at the orphanage where he had been abandoned. Having a keen mind and always hungry for knowledge, he had read about the persecutions, the burnings, the lynchings, the horrible tortures that Muggles had provoked in favor of their ideals and following banal excuses such as religion and politics. From a very young age he had seen in the eyes of Muggles that spark of hatred that caused fires greater than any spell.

“Wizards are superior.”

It was a fact as plain as the blood that coursed through the veins of every living thing. It was not an arrogant phrase or an idea to justify discriminating against other people like Muggle politicians had used so many times in the past. No. Wizards were superior by the fact that at an evolutionary level they had abilities that could lead them to be considered superior in comparison to Muggles. After all, wizards, unlike Muggles, had the ability to cast spells that prevented them from relying on tools that Muggles had created to compensate for their shortcomings. But despite the logic behind this thinking, the world refused to acknowledge this, saying that thinking about the superiority of wizards was just a form of discrimination against Muggles. It was horrible how deep this feeling had gone. For, because of this, nowadays, even among wizards, there were those who bowed to Muggles, who sought to mingle among them, ashamed of their origins. Were they so deluded that they could not see the danger this posed?

Voldemort closed his eyes for a second, taking a deep breath to calm his anger and despair. In the back of his mind, he knew that one of his motivations was the fear of what might happen if Muggles decided to turn their weapons against wizards. They were brutally crafted tools of destruction that promised only extermination of entire races. If from the time they were children, they expressed hatred against other people and were not punished for their cruelty, what could be expected from adults? If Voldemort did nothing, if he did not take action, it was possible that all wizards, at some point, would suffer what he suffered in his childhood.

“If they can't respect me, they had better fear me…”

For fear, though most did not understand it this way, was a weapon that promised protection against the enemy. If your enemy was afraid of you, if they feared the consequences that your anger might bring, then, they would think twice before trying to do something that might anger you. That was why, if Muggles truly learned what wizards could do, they would not dare rise up against them, now or in the future. If they knew that a single wizard could wipe out their armies, their governments, their countries, their lives… perhaps, then… they would learn to stay in a place where they would not pose a danger to wizarding existence.

Although Dumbledore was desperate to convey this message to the other wizards, Voldemort was not really seeking power just for the sake of having power. He was seeking control… Control to ensure that no one else would feel the contempt and pain he had felt since he was a small boy. Control, to prevent any wizard from ever again ducking his head in front of a Muggle due to fear of the consequences.

“It's not cruelty, it's survival and being able to live peacefully…”

The thought was a way of trying to convince himself of his actions. Of course, that he couldn't deny that a part of him, deep down, was seeking justice and a little revenge. He was seeking to vindicate the wounds they had caused in his past, and also, with this, to make sure that no one could forget him, that no one could ever leave him again.

Taking a deep breath, feeling the air filling his new lungs, he opened his eyes and looked at the grave in front of him. The angel of death staring directly at him, his father's name right in front of his bare feet, almost like a taunt from beyond. The life he had regained was only a means to an end…to a greater good…a common good, as Dumbledore would say. The world was going to understand, or would learn to understand what he had learned during his years watching the cruelty of Muggles. Wizards had to see a way to show others that they were superior and that they were no longer going to bow down to the cruelty of mere Muggles. It didn't matter if they called him a monster, if they were afraid of him.

He would do what was necessary because only he had the vision and the strength to protect wizards from true monsters.

[magmagicstyle]

PATREON EARLY - MY FRIEND

WARNING: You might be sad... maybe... sorry

Caught between heroism and heartbreak, Conner struggles with his unspoken love for Tim. In this, Conner faces a huge dilemma: risk their friendship by confessing his feelings or continue hiding his love for Gotham's vigilante.

This is a Patreon early story. This means it's going to be on Patreon for two weeks before I post it on any other of my social media pages.

[magmagicstyle]

PATREON EXCLUSIVE: I WAS WRONG (C)

The fire crackled softly, its embers casting restless shadows that writhed and flickered on the walls of my study.  The room felt quiet yet unbearably loud with the weight of my thoughts. The warmth from the hearth barely reached me, as if the very room itself recoiled from the cold, unforgiving truths contained within the fragile paper in my trembling hands. This room had once been my haven, but now it seemed like a mausoleum for all the choices I regretted, all the love I had failed to protect. In my hands, I held the letter. Your letter. My mate’s words stared back at me from the aged parchment, each stroke of ink a ghost of a past I could not escape. The years had not dimmed its impact—if anything, time had sharpened the pain.

This is just sad.

Also... Hi.

[magmagicstyle]

Just curious will 'i was wrong' that Carlisle Cullen x Male Reader fic ever be posted to Tumblr or will it remain an exclusive story?

Hi! Woah, it's been a while since I came here...

Also, yes. "I was wrong" (from the Beautiful but Condemned Soul universe) is a Patreon Exclusive story, since it's an extra story.

[magmagicstyle]

EVENT ANNOUNCEMENT ~ 12 Days of Lucemond!!

About 12 Days of Lucemond is a prompt-fill event inspired by the Christmas carol "12 Days of Christmas," with lyrics edited to reflect Lucemond and House of the Dragon themes! There are 12 prompts in total, one for each day. The interpretations don’t need to be literal! For example, the prompt "three dancing dragons" doesn't have to feature three dragons, or dragons fighting (which inspired the prompt). However, the focus should be on "dragon" and "Lucemond", interpreted however you choose. We will include inspirations/ideas for each prompt below! As the event date draws near, the Mod team will confirm certain details and share links to socials. If you have any questions, please respond to this post or send a DM. Participation

⚠️ This is an 18+ event so NSFW/DD content is welcome

🗓️ Date: 1st (Sunday) December - 12th December (Thursday).

🎨 Creations: fanfiction, fanart, moodboards, video edits etc are all welcome!

🤝Sharing: Creators can upload to bluesky, twitter, tumblr, AO3 (a collection will be created). Hashtag #12dayslcmd!

♥️ Many thanks and gratitude to our wonderful event artist.

⚜️ If you want to join the Lucemond Discord, please DM for an invite! (You do not need to join to participate!)

🐧 Prompt interpretation ideas below the line :D

Prompt ideas 1st of Dec: One Valyrian Wedding // wedding, betrothal, bedding ceremony/wedding night, united through marriage. 2nd of Dec: Two bloodied blades // HotD S1 E7 Driftmark, dueling, 'I want you to cut out your eye', revenge, 'sworn in blood' 3rd of Dec: Three dragons dancing // HotD S2, mating hunt, dragon!fic, dragonriding, Vhagar and Arrax. 4th of Dec: Four treasures glittering // Aemond's sapphire eye, Pearl of Driftmark, gift giving, pirates/sailors

5th of Dec: Five falling tears // Hotd S2 'crying Aemond', mourning, tears of happiness, character death, angst.

6th of Dec: Six kin a-battling // Aemond vs Jacaerys, Blacks vs Greens, HotD S1 E8 ‘dinner scene’, dragon-fighting 7th of Dec: Seven lords a-plotting // captive prince trope, small council, ransom, arranged marriage, war plots.

8th of Dec: Eight oaths a-breaking // sworn shield trope, cheating, betrayal, the North, Valyrian blood magic 9th of Dec: Nine nights of longing // unrequited love, long-distance romance, pining, captive AU, Romeo and Juliette AU.

10th Dec: Ten secrets whispered // lies, promises, rumours, POV bias, war propaganda

11th of Dec: Eleven letters written // Luke sends an apology letter, long-distance communication, ransom, bargaining, love letters.

12th of Dec: Twelve ghostly hauntings // Harrenhal, ghosts, curses, guilt, witchcraft, horror themes, Ghostcerys

[magmagicstyle]

To be or not to be... ???

[magmagicstyle]

Hi, i just wanted to say that i spent the entire afternoon reading your stories. I love them! And when i finished, i decided to follow you. How are you? When are you going to update it? 😊 (No pressure) 🤭😅

Hi! That's so sweet of you. Haha

Ehm, well, I'm fine, dealing with some irl stuff (looking for a job, trying to see if it's possible to make a living out of writing... etc) but other than that, I'm okay...

Oh! Also, I'm writing again so... I'm updating things!

Haha, sorry for keeping you all waiting, really.

It's been a crazy couple of months, but... I'll try to keep updating and working on delivering content for you all...

[magmagicstyle]

THE LITTLE GHOST OF HARRENHAL

In the haunting ruins of Harrenhal, Aemond Targaryen is confronted by the ghost of his nephew, Lucerys. But Lucerys offers something far more painful than vengeance—understanding and forgiveness. Ultimately, Aemond is left with only his memories and the phantom touch of the one he lost forever.

Hi, sorry if there are too many grammatical mistakes. Please be kind and remember that English isn't my first language. The IDEA for this one-shot came thanks to the wonderful @violetastridhotd! Thank you. IF YOU WANT TO READ IT ON AO3: here's the link

The ruinous hallways of Harrenhal stood early quiet, a deep and suffocating kind of silence that wrapped itself around the castle like the shadows clinging to its walls. The once-great fortress was a shell of its former self, scarred and broken by time, just as its current occupant felt himself to be. Aemond Targaryen sat near the hearth, staring into the last flickering flames of a fire that had grown cold, much like the rest of him. His long silver hair was loose, falling in wild strands over his shoulders, and his single eye—sapphire gleaming in the dim light—was fixed on the dying embers. The chill of the castle seeped into his bones, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. Not when the true cold had taken residence within his heart, freezing him from the inside out, making him feel like he had died while staying in the world of the living.

Aemond's mind, once sharp and focused on war and conquest, now swam in the murky waters of regret. How long had it been since he had arrived at Harrenhal? Days? Weeks? Time had lost its meaning in this desolate place, where every corner whispered of death, betrayal, and madness. It felt like it had been a long time since he had claimed this haunted keep, yet he found no solace here. No glory. Only cold stone and darker memories, and the voices that haunted Aemond were not those of the thousands of souls who had perished within Harrenhal's walls. No, the voice that haunted him most belonged to the one person he could never escape.

Lucerys.

Aemond's jaw clenched at the thought of his nephew—the nephew he had chased through the storm, the nephew whose life had been cut short by the dragon he had once believed he could control. Vhagar had snapped him out of the sky like a wolf devouring a lamb, and in that single, terrible moment, Aemond's world had changed forever.

Vhagar... the dammed storm...

The image of Lucerys’ terrified face flashed before him, as vivid now as it had been when he last saw him alive when the storm howled and raged at Storm’s End. The boy's brown curls, his wide eyes filled with fear, and the moment everything had spun out of control. The moment Vhagar... no, the moment he had taken Lucerys’ life .

I didn’t mean for it to happen… That was never meant to happen.  

The words echoed in his mind, a futile refrain. But they didn’t matter. Intentions were meaningless now. Regret was meaningless now. It wasn’t like his regret or heartbreak would bring his nephew back to the world of living. It wasn’t like he could have Luke back to hear his laughter, even when it was at his expense. Lucerys Velaryon was dead, and Aemond’s hands were stained with the blood of his kin.

He would never be able to wash it away.

He closed his eye and leaned back in the chair, the flickering light casting harsh shadows across his gaunt features. His body was as exhausted as his soul, but still, sleep would not come. How could it? Every time he closed his eye, he saw it again—the storm, the wind, the look of fear in Lucerys’ wide, innocent eyes. The sickening sound of Arrax's flesh being torn apart and the crunch of bones breaking, Lucerys was so small, so young and he along with his dragon had been torn apart by Aemond's lack of control over Vaghar. The dragon had acted on instinct and no matter how many times Aemond told her not to do anything, it was too late. He can still remember how terrified Lucerys looked...

Luke...  

Aemond would always remember the way the young dragon's flesh and blood fell into the sea as he watched from the sky, knowing it was his fault, that he had ended his nephew's life in that horrible way. That image would follow him forever. That… and the terrible, final silence that followed. 

Aemond remembered how his lips parted at the horrifying sight. There wasn’t much that would make him feel uncomfortable, after all, he was ready to be a warrior, but the view of the dragon falling and the fact that he had killed Lucerys had shaken him. His lips parted, but no sound came for a few seconds. He had no words left for the grief that was hollowing him out piece by piece, even now, in the middle of the night, in the desolated Harrenhal, he didn’t have words to explain the pain that crushed his heart when he thought about his nephew. He had chased the boy through the storm intending to frighten him—maybe even hurt him a bit, just a small revenge from the damage the younger boy had done to his eye so many years ago—but he never intended to kill him. Not his Lucerys.

“Lucerys…” he whispered in the cold of the room, the name breaking like glass on his lips, and for the first time in days, his eye burned with the threat of tears.

Lucerys, Lucerys, Lucerys… My Lucerys… 

A sudden shift in the air made Aemond's breath catch in his throat, his thoughts stopping for a second. The temperature in the room plummeted further, a biting chill that sent a shiver down his spine. He sat up straight, heart pounding, as a faint light seemed to bleed into the edges of the room—a soft, otherworldly glow that he knew should not be there.

Along with the soft gleam that had appeared, the silence of the hall was broken by the faintest of whispers, so soft that Aemond almost thought he had imagined it. But no, there it was again, drifting through the cold air.

"Aemond…"

He froze, his heart hammering in his chest. The voice was achingly familiar—too familiar… And then he saw him.

The ghost of his nephew stood at the entrance to the hall, bathed in the pale light of the afterlife. Lucerys’ face was as gentle and innocent as it had been when Aemond had last seen him—young, with wide brown eyes, a small and kind smile playing on his lips. He looked as he had in life, but with an otherworldly glow that made him seem even more delicate, more fragile.

His small form was dressed in the clothes he had died in, though they were now unmarred by blood or the storm’s water. His hair, dark curls that Aemond had once tugged at in their youth, framed his gentle face. But it was his eyes that held Aemond captive—those same brown eyes that had once looked up at him with fear, now filled with something else entirely.

Forgiveness.

Aemond’s throat tightened, his breath frozen in his lungs. This was not real. It could not be real. But Lucerys—Luke—looked as real as he had the last time Aemond had seen him alive. His lips quirked up into a soft smile, one that made Aemond’s chest ache with a feeling of deep, unbearable sorrow. 

Lovely foolish Lucerys… How can you smile in my direction when I’m the one guilty of your death? 

“Lucerys?” Aemond’s voice cracked, barely a whisper, as though speaking too loudly would cause the boy to vanish like smoke in the wind. Right now, that was his bigger fear, for him to push away the only presence of Lucerys that he was being blessed with, even if this was probably part of his imagination. “Is it… is it truly you?”

The ghost took a step forward, and the soft glow that surrounded him seemed to pulse, like the fading light of the sun as it set on the horizon. “Uncle… Aemond,” Lucerys said, his voice as soft and kind as Aemond remembered from their childhood, before the war, before the hatred. “It’s me.”

Aemond rose to his feet on trembling legs, his body aching under the weight of his grief. He didn’t know what to do. He wanted to stay, to bask in Lucerys’ presence, to beg for forgiveness and absolution from this vision… but at the same time, he wanted to run, to flee from this invention from his mind that threatened to break him apart. Still, he found himself rooted in place. As if sensing his hesitation, Lucerys came closer, his small hands hanging loosely at his sides. He got so close that Aemond could see him clearly now—his nephew, the boy he had killed.

“I…” Aemond’s mouth moved, but the words were stuck in his throat. His hands clenched into fists at his sides, his nails digging into his palms as he struggled to breathe. This was too painful… Too cruel... “Why are you here?” His voice was a broken rasp. “Why do you haunt me?”

Lucerys tilted his head, his expression softening even further, looking at Aemond with sadness and love. “I don’t haunt you, Aemond. I’m not here to hurt you.”

The words stung, cutting deeper than any accusation ever could. Aemond’s heart twisted painfully in his chest. Why? Why would you not want to hurt me? He could feel the tears threatening to spill over, but he forced them back. No matter how much pain he was feeling, how much he felt that his heart was being pulled out of his chest and how he couldn’t breathe from the sheer pressure that he felt at being in front of Lucerys. He did not deserve to cry. Not for this. Not for the boy whose life he had ended.

“I don’t deserve your kindness, Lucerys.” His voice shook, and he looked away, unable to meet those gentle brown eyes any longer. 

Why? Why do you look sad for me? Why do you look at me with so much love? I don’t deserve your love.  

“I don’t deserve your forgiveness. I took everything from you.” Aemond said almost desperately while looking at the floor, his voice breaking a bit at the last part. He couldn’t bring himself to look up, to look at Lucerys… He didn’t deserve it. 

Lucerys stepped closer until he was standing directly in front of Aemond, his presence as gentle and calming as a spring breeze. He couldn’t help it and he looked at his nephew, noticing how the younger boy’s eyes were filled with a warmth that made Aemond’s heart ache in ways he had never imagined.

“You didn’t mean to,” Lucerys said, his voice barely more than a whisper. “I know you didn’t mean to kill me.”

Aemond let out a broken, humorless laugh, his shoulders shaking with the weight of his guilt. “It doesn’t matter,” he muttered, his eye burning with unshed tears. He would not cry. He wouldn’t allow himself to cry. “I still did it. Vhagar still—”

“I know,” Lucerys interrupted softly, his tone full of understanding. “But I don’t blame you, Aemond. I never did.”

Aemond’s breath caught in his throat, and he felt as though the ground beneath him was crumbling. How could Lucerys stand there, looking at him with such love, such forgiveness, when he had stolen everything from him? How could the boy he had killed be the one to offer him the absolution he had so desperately longed for?

“I… I thought I wanted revenge… but I just wanted… I wanted you to love me,” Aemond whispered, the words tumbling out before he could stop them. His voice cracked under the weight of his confession, and his hands trembled at his sides. “And I ruined it. I ruined everything.” He said, bitterly. He wanted to scream, cry and curse at the gods that had condemned him to destroy the one person who could truly love him.  

Lucerys’ eyes softened, and for the first time since his death, Aemond felt the warmth of another’s touch as the boy reached up to cup his cheek. It was faint, like a breeze barely stirring the air, but it was real. He was real. 

Oh… He’s really here.

“I do love you, Aemond,” Lucerys whispered, his thumb brushing softly against Aemond’s skin. “I always have.”

Aemond’s heart shattered. The thread keeping him calm and composed had finally snapped in two. And without being able to stop himself, the tears he had fought so hard to keep at bay broke free, spilling down his face in hot, silent streams. His chest heaved with the weight of his sorrow, his grief, his regret. He had longed for Lucerys’ love, had yearned for it with every fiber of his being, and now he would never know it—not truly.

“I’m so sorry,” Aemond choked out, his voice breaking with the force of his sobs. “I’m so sorry, Lucerys. I didn’t mean—”

“I know,” Lucerys said gently, his eyes filled with an endless, unconditional love. “I know, Aemond.”

Aemond fell to his knees before the boy’s ghost, his body wracked with sobs as he clung to the hem of Lucerys’ cloak. He could feel his heart breaking all over again, shattering into a million pieces that would never be whole again. He would never know how would it feel to wake up beside Lucerys, to feel his small body between his arms, to kiss his lips. He would never hear his laughter again, his teasing voice, he would never see the pout that he made when he was annoyed at something, and he would never be able to grow old with the love of his life.  

Still, Lucerys stood there, his presence a quiet comfort, his love a balm for Aemond’s shattered soul.

“I forgive you,” Lucerys whispered, his voice soft and soothing. “I forgive you, Aemond. You don’t have to carry this burden anymore.”

But Aemond couldn’t let go. How could he? He had taken everything from Lucerys—his life, his future, his happiness. Not only that, he had taken away the possibility of a future together. Because knowing his lovely Luke, he would have found a way to stay together… Aemond didn’t deserve to be free of this regret… And now, his adorable Lucerys was in front of him, offering Aemond the one thing he could never forgive himself for.

“You deserved better,” Aemond whispered, his voice broken and filled with sorrow. “You deserved so much more.”

Lucerys knelt in front of him, his small hand reaching out to touch Aemond’s face once more. “Maybe… Maybe not… but I know I had what I needed,” he said quietly. “I had you, I had your heart.”

Aemond’s heart clenched painfully in his chest, and he closed his eye, his tears still falling freely. For so long, his desires for revenge had covered his real feelings, he, in his dumb, young mind, had wanted to protect Lucerys, to keep him safe, but in the end, he and his foolish actions had been the one to destroy him.

“I will never be free of this,” Aemond whispered, his voice filled with the weight of his guilt. “I will never forgive myself… I won’t…”

Lucerys smiled, his eyes soft and full of love. “Then let me forgive you.”

Aemond looked up at him, his vision blurred with tears. Lucerys’ face was bathed in the soft glow of the afterlife, and in that moment, Aemond saw not the boy he had killed, but the boy he had loved.

And then, with one final, soft smile, Lucerys began to fade, his form dissolving into the misty light of the otherworld.

“I’ll always forgive you, Aemond,” Lucerys’ voice whispered as he vanished from sight, leaving Aemond alone in the cold, empty halls of Harrenhal.

Aemond remained there, on his knees, his tears falling silently onto the stone floor. The warmth that Lucerys had brought with him was gone, the kind touch of his love had faded with him, leaving behind only the icy chill of regret.

But Aemond didn’t move. He couldn’t. His legs felt weak, his body heavy, as if the weight of all his sins had finally anchored him to the ground. The fire had long since died out, and the only light in the room came from the faint moonlight filtering through the broken windows. His heart was still racing, each beat sharp and painful in his chest, he could hear his own heart, hitting against his ribs with painful punches as if it was trying to run away from his body. He couldn’t blame his heart… After all, Aemond felt as if his very soul was being torn apart.

For a long while, he didn’t speak. Didn’t cry. He just existed there, in that hollow space of grief, his mind replaying every moment of Lucerys’ death, and every bit of the conversation he just had with the ghost of his loved one.

I will never forgive myself.

It was the only truth he had left, the only constant in a world that had unraveled around him. Even Lucerys, in his infinite kindness, could not absolve him of this sin. Even if Lucerys could forgive him, even if he could move past his horrible death. Aemond knew that he would carry this burden for the rest of his life, a shadow that would follow him until the day he died. Maybe when he died, he would feel that he could forgive himself.

His breath came shallow now, the weight of it all finally pulling him down. Slowly, without thinking, Aemond sank to the floor. His cape had fallen from the chair earlier, and now it lay beside him, a small, insignificant object that seemed almost out of place in this vast, empty hall. He stared at it for a moment, then reached out with trembling hands, pulling the cape beneath his head as he lay down on the cold stone floor. Maybe he should start the fire again, maybe he should look for a warmer place to pass the night, but he couldn’t bring himself to move away from the last place he felt Lucery’s touch on his skin. He wasn’t able to do it. 

The chill seeped through his clothes, biting into his skin, but he didn’t care. He welcomed it—the numbness, the quiet, the peace that could only be found in the void. His long silver hair spread out like a halo beneath him as he closed his eye, his chest still heaving with the weight of his sobs. His body felt like lead, his heart a dead thing in his chest.

Lucerys.

He whispered the name in his mind like a prayer, as if saying it enough times might bring the boy back to him, might somehow undo the terrible wrong he had committed. But of course, it was a futile hope. Lucerys was gone. He was never coming back.

Yet, as Aemond lay there, drowning in his own grief, something strange happened.

A gentle warmth brushed against his cheek, so faint and so fleeting that he almost didn’t notice it at first. His breath hitched, his eye flying open as his heart stuttered in his chest. His hand instinctively rose to his face, fingers brushing over the scarred flesh where his sapphire eye was embedded, but the warmth wasn’t coming from his own touch.

No, this was something else. Something softer.

Aemond’s breath caught in his throat as he lay there, frozen, the warmth growing stronger—like the brush of a hand, the lightest caress, as though someone was touching him with the tenderness of a lover. His fingers trembled as he lowered his hand, his body going rigid as he realized what it was.

Lucerys.

It was impossible, absurd even, but in that moment, Aemond swore he could feel Lucerys’ hand on his cheek—the same gentle touch he had felt earlier when the ghost had stood before him. It was as if Lucerys had come back to him, not as a haunting specter of forgiveness, but as the boy Aemond had longed to love in life.

His heart clenched painfully in his chest, and the tears he had fought so hard to hold back spilled over once more. His breath hitched in his throat, and before he knew it, he was sobbing—great, heaving sobs that wracked his entire body, his chest rising and falling in uneven gasps. His fingers dug into the stone floor beneath him, his body curling in on itself as if he could somehow escape the torment of his own heart.

But still, the warmth remained. Lucerys’ touch lingered on his scarred cheek, soft and loving, as if trying to soothe the pain that had taken root in Aemond’s soul. And for a brief, fleeting moment, Aemond allowed himself to believe it. He allowed himself to believe that what he saw before was real. That the ghost wasn’t a product of his regretful heart but that Lucerys had truly forgiven him, that his nephew had returned—not as a vengeful spirit, but as the boy who had once loved him.

Aemond squeezed his eye shut, his sobs growing quieter, more desperate. He clung to that feeling, to that faint touch, as though it were the only thing tethering him to the world.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice broken and hoarse. “I’m so, so sorry.”

And as the warmth slowly began to fade, as Lucerys’ touch slipped away like the last breath of wind before a storm, Aemond’s heart shattered all over again.

He had been given a glimpse of what could have been—what should have been—and now it was gone. Forever.

The last of his tears fell silently down his cheeks, and as the night deepened around him, Aemond lay there, alone in the cold, broken and hollow. The echoes of his sobs were the only sound in the vast emptiness of Harrenhal, a reminder that no matter how hard he had tried, he would never escape the consequences of his actions.

He would never know Lucerys' love in life, only in the fleeting touches of a ghost.

[magmagicstyle]

Lost Love, Lasting Remembrance

James and Regulus were in love... but war doesn't forgive anyone.

The room they were in was dimly lit, shadows dancing on the walls as James and Regulus stood facing each other. Their silhouettes cast against the flickering candlelight, dark against the wall behind them, their shadows seemed to be touching, almost as if they were seeking comfort in each other. The air felt quite heavy with unspoken emotions, the tension palpable with something that enveloped them like a suffocating shroud. The soft glow of the candles seemed to highlight the vulnerability engraved on their faces, the lines of worry and fear that tainted their youthful features. No one as young as them should look so worried, so scared. 

At that moment, time seemed to stand still, as if the entire world held its breath, remaining still to see which path these two hearts would choose. It was almost as if destiny and duty were in the middle of an awfully painful war. Every heartbeat echoed in the silence, a persistent reminder of the significance of the decision that hung between the young lovers, a decision that could change the course of their lives forever.

Regulus swallowed hard, trying to steady the shaking motion in his hands as he glanced into James' hazel eyes. Oh, those eyes that had always held a spark of mischief and warmth were looking quite sad now, the usual gleam in them was almost gone, tainted with the finality of the decision that was hanging over their heads. Now, the eyes that usually saw Regulus with so much love, were filled with worry and a touch of fear, mirroring the turmoil in Regulus' heart. His heart thumped loudly in his chest, and every fibre of his being yearned to stay with James, to hold him close and never let go. But the danger that loomed over their love was too great, and he knew he had to make this sacrifice. Even if it pained him to do so. 

"I love you," Regulus whispered, his voice breaking as he reached out to touch James' cheek. He usually didn’t allow himself to be vulnerable. In his family, showing emotions and showing that you cared for someone was a weakness, something that needed to be destroyed, or crushed, so nobody could use it against you. But James, with the gorgeous boy that opened his heart to Regulus, the black -newly named- heir, could open his heart. Now, touching James’ cheek, he could feel how the warmth of his touch was a stark contrast to the coldness that gripped his heart. Regulus had never imagined that he would fall in love, he used to fear that moment and then, when he met James, he was eager to feel it… And now, looking into his lover’s eyes and feeling the dread of the decision he had to make, love was both a blessing and a curse. It was a love that had filled his days with light and happiness, but it was also a love that now threatened to engulf them both in darkness.

James' hand covered Regulus', holding it gently against his cheek. He traced his thumb over Regulus' pale skin, trying to memorise the soft touch of his lover, knowing that this might be the last time he would ever feel this closeness. "And I love you," he replied, his voice thick with emotion. He felt like his heart was in his throat, and he was doing his best to keep his tears at bay. "But you don't have to do this, Regulus. We can run away together, and start a new life where no one knows us. We can be happy together. We could disappear. Sure, it would be hard to leave Sirius, but he has Remus. Also, if we go away and wait till the war is over, we could meet again… I know he would be glad to know we are safe…"

Regulus closed his eyes, trying to block out the image of a life with James that would always be tainted by the fear of being discovered. Sure, at first, it would be amazing, but then the fear would settle in, and he hated the idea of living like a fugitive. The taste of salt on his lips from his tears seemed to reflect the salt in the air between them. When did he start to cry? Regulus had no idea. Still, he seemed unable to stop himself. It was like a river that didn’t have a dam anymore. "You don't understand," he whispered, his voice barely audible. "I'm trying to protect you, James. If I stay with you, they'll come after you too. I can't bear the thought of you getting hurt because of me."

Tears welled up in James' eyes, his heart breaking at the thought of losing Regulus. His voice wavered as he held back a sob, "I can't lose you," he pleaded, his grip on Regulus' hand tightening. "We can face whatever comes together. I could keep you safe… I know it always seems like I’m joking around and I know most of the time I don’t take things seriously but I really can’t lose you…"

Regulus shook his head, tears streaming down his cheeks like cascading stars. His heart felt like it was being pulled in two different directions, between his love for James and his need to protect him. "You don't know what they're capable of," he said, his voice choked with emotion. "My parents, the Death Eaters… they won't stop until they find me, now that Sirius ran away and I’m the Black heir, there’s no way they will risk me running away as well... And when they find me with you… I can't bear to think of what they would do to you."

James pulled Regulus into a tight embrace, burying his face in his lover's hair, inhaling the scent that was uniquely Regulus. He pushed his face against his lover’s and let his tears mingle with Regulus', and he wanted to hold onto this moment forever, never letting go. "I don't care," he whispered against Regulus' ear, his voice trembling. "I love you, Regulus, and I would rather face anything with you by my side than live a life without you."

Regulus clung to James, the intensity of his emotions making him hold on tighter. His mind was torn apart, battling between his desire to stay and his fear of the consequences. Still, he knew what he had to do, as painful as it was. He wanted to let himself be weak and pretend that James could stand a chance against The Dark Lord, but even he, being so young, wasn’t as foolish as his parents liked to believe. With a heavy heart, he pulled away from James' embrace, his gaze locked with James' for one last time.

"I have to go," Regulus whispered. His voice filled with anguish. His heart was breaking when he started to walk away, his soul being crushed with every step he took away from James. He didn’t want to go away, he didn’t want to leave the only person who truly loved him no matter what. He didn’t want this to be their end. "I have to do this to keep you safe. Please understand, James." He said, trying to contain a sob that would reveal how painful this goodbye was for him.

James' heart shattered as he nodded, the pain evident in his eyes. He felt like his soul was being ripped apart, torn between wanting Regulus to stay with him and knowing that his lover was right in his fears, knowing that if they stayed together, Voldemort and the death-eaters would never leave them alone. "I'll never forget you," he whispered, his voice barely audible. "I'll love you forever, Regulus Black."

Regulus choked back a sob, the lump in his throat making it hard to speak. His hand reached out to touch James' face one last time, memorizing every detail of the man he loved with all his heart. He wanted to maintain this memory forever, he desired to stop time for a minute just to look at the man he gave his heart to and never forget the passion and care they shared for one another. "And I'll love you, James Potter," he said, his voice breaking. "Always."

They stood there momentarily, their hearts entwined even as their paths diverged. Every second felt like an eternity, every heartbeat a painful reminder of the love they were leaving behind. With one last tearful look, Regulus turned and walked away, leaving James behind. 

The pain in his chest grew with every step, but he forced himself to keep going, to protect the man he loved at any cost. He knew he was breaking James' heart, and it was tearing him apart, but he had to do this. For James, he would sacrifice everything. As he stepped out into the cold night air, he couldn't shake the feeling of emptiness that settled in his chest. The pain of leaving James was almost unbearable, but he knew it was the only way to keep him safe.

Regulus walked away from the love of his life, his heart heavy with the weight of his decision. Tears streamed down his cheeks, but he didn't look back. He couldn't. Looking back would break him, and he needed to be strong.

The memory of James' tearful eyes and broken voice haunted him as he made his way to the path that would lead him to his new destiny. He had chosen the path of darkness to protect the light of his life, and he hoped that someday, James would understand.

Right?

- -

"I love you, Regulus Black, always," James whispered the words that had been etched into his heart since that fateful goodbye, slowly laying a single white lily on the memorial that showed the name that he had whispered so many times while they laid together in bed before war ruined everything.

As he stood there, the weight of their love and the pain of their parting washed over him like a tidal wave, crashing against his soul and leaving him gasping for breath. The lily on the memorial was a symbol of their love, pure and fragile, just like the love they had shared.

In the darkness of the night, James allowed himself to grieve, to let the tears flow freely as he mourned the loss of his soulmate. The pain was raw and deep, but he knew that he would carry Regulus in his heart until the end of time.

And so, under the pale moonlight, James Potter wept for the love he had lost, for the sacrifice that had been made, and for the bittersweet memories that would forever linger in his heart. The world around him may have moved on, but his love for Regulus would always burn bright, a beacon of light in the darkest of times.

Sorry for disappearing, I got a job and then I lost that job... and then I got another job... and then I lost that job again... Please remember that English isn't my first language. <3

[magmagicstyle]

I- Okay, I'll go back to write stuff.

If you’re reading this: this is your sign that your WIP is worth writing, is worth the effort, and that you are doing great. Keep going, take breaks, reflect. But do not lose sight of how far you’ve come on this project! You can do it!

[magmagicstyle]

Since now people want to jump at my neck for having an opinion, I'll explain myself -even thought I shouldn't have to do it...-

1) I don't hate Eddie

2) I'm not leaving the Buddie's ship

3) I guess I am joining the BuckTommy/Bummy's ship (whatever the official name is)

4) I was just saying that I wish for Buck's happiness, because among all the characters (because I love them ALL) Buck is my favourite

5) I also want Eddie's happiness

6) If Buck ends up with Tommy or Eddie or whatever other character might appear in the future, I just want Buck to have a good, healthy relationship with his partner, same for Tommy and Eddie

I can be and I am a multishipper, I love relationships, I adore love, I just want people to find their special someone if that's something they want to have.

I don't know why some of you all are so upset over someone giving their opinion online, but you do you, hun... I just ask for you to not be rude towards me because maybe I don't share the same opinion as you, thank you.