#accepted: celine

[darling-stardust]

for the ask game, could you do Glenn Close in "conversation hearts"?? love your art!

Thank you, darling!! I am happy to make art for you 🩷

I have some ideas what he is jamming to, but I hope he is jamming to your faves 🎶 ... this makes me miss my cassette player... here's a Glenn ✌️

Requests are still open for this post ♡ hit me up!!

[saintlybast]

يا مرادي.

في ذهني سؤالٌ لا يُسأل

له جوابٌ بكل حالٍ يُهمل

يمزق بمخالبٍ حادةٍ قلباً يُحقد

لا تخافي— لن يؤذيكِ

و لن تتعرضي لأذى هذه اللسعة

فأنا بكل حبٍ لما كان حباً أحميكِ

لا مانع عندي بأن أحملَ حمل الماضي، الحاضر

و المستقبل الذي تخشينهُ

من السؤالِ الذي لا يمكن أن يُسأل

يا من كانت هي جوابي، و آفاقي، و مرادي.

[mecca-mocca-tobacco]

[number1hoaxstan]

Taylor is still in her reputation era (people are mad at her for things that don’t make sense)

[joyoushyuck]

requested

00:56

Your hand is raised in front of the door, about to knock, when the door clicks open on its own. Donghyuck doesn't seem surprised by your presence; his expression is morphed into one of indifference. He is wearing his glasses and that white Celine shirt he loves to wear on special occasions. His long hair curls at his nape, a few curly strands beautifully swaying at the front. You would call him gorgeous if it wasn't for the pressing situation at hand. He walks past you into the kitchen and extracts a water bottle from the fridge. You flinch when he slams the door shut.

“Donghyuck,” you try. He chugs the water down, ignoring you. “Donghyuck list-”

A thud, water on your feet and a gasp leaving your mouth, and Donghyuck storms past you back into the bedroom. The blue baby shark bottle lays a few inches away from your legs with a broken hinge and a crack near the top.

You bite your lips in an attempt to keep your tears at bay. You brought this on yourself, you have no right to cry. If forgetting your anniversary was not enough of a fault, you went on to blame it on your workload and blame him for being upset. Not your smartest move.

Dejected, you walk back to the couch and lay down. You haven't slept properly in ages, you really were preoccupied with an important project at work, but even that isn't a good reason to stop doing the bare minimum. Donghyuck's anger is justified.

You don't have a blanket; no amount of hugging yourself provides you the warmth that Donghyuck’s body exudes. The pit of your stomach feels hollow with dread; the guilt weighs you down and threatens to swallow your being. After an hour of twisting and turning, you give up on the idea of sleep. There's no way you can sleep peacefully without resolving this conflict. Your throat constricts and heart sinks at the prospect of Donghyuck ending this relationship for his own good.

So you walk up to the door resolutely. If Donghyuck continues to give you the silent treatment, you know your resolve will take a hit pretty soon. However, doing something to show that you care is better than doing nothing.

“Hyuck,” you start, only to hear your voice crack. It pains you as much as it pains him to have landed in such a predicament. “I'm sorry, Donghyuck, it's my fault. Please, just open the door.”

You are met with silence. Did he fall asleep already? It seemed unlikely but you couldn't rule out the possibility.

“Hyuck, are you awake? Baby? Just please answer me.”

Still no response. But then, something drops, and you hear the old bed squeak, his feet shuffle and the spring in your mattress dip. So he's awake.

“Donghyuck, love, please talk to me.” You cringe at the desperation in your own voice. “I am sorry, I know I fucked up Hyuck. Shout at me, hit me, just-”

You clutch your hair, your back sliding against the door and butt hitting the cold floor. A shiver runs down your spine. Was it winter already?

“Just don't be quiet, please.”

You bury your face in your hands in a last ditch attempt to keep the sobs under control. It didn't seem to be working in your favour. The stress at work seems to be finally catching upto you as well. Donghyuck needs space. He doesn't need you annoying him now when all this could have been prevented had you been more mindful of your actions. You accept your fate and curl into a bundle, deciding to give it a rest for now.

That's how Donghyuck finds you a few hour laters.

You are hugging your knees close to your chest, head resting uncomfortably on the hard floor. When he takes a closer look, he can see the dried streak of tears on your cheek. You are trembling, and he realises you haven't even switched the heater on. Something in him breaks at the sight of you like this.

“Hey, baby,” he gently taps your cheek to wake you up. “Baby, you can't sleep here, come in.”

You make a little noise. He is met with the uncontrollable urge to coo at you, but stops himself given the situation.

“Wake up doll,” he tries again. “You are going to have a terrible back pain at this rate.”

You blink your eyes open sluggishly after a few moments. Donghyuck isn't wearing his glasses anymore and his hair is mussed up. “Hyuck?” You ask, your sleep muddled brain still not catching up. “Is everything alright?”

Donghyuck sighs, his fingers gently caressing your cheek. He loved you too much to stay mad at you for long, no matter what you did.

“Come sleep on the bed baby. We'll talk about the rest in the morning. Come in now.”

[jessthebaker]

By the Gods

This is for the gorgeous @beefrobeefcal 's Half Bricked, Wrong Time February Prompt Challenge!

I've never written for Oberyn before, this is barely titled, no beta, minimal editing, I don't know if it's crack or serious or both, but I'm yeeting this out into the world and running away again. Enjoy!

word count 1.6k

rating: Mature (duh, it's Oberyn)

“Oh, Seven, not again.” Oberyn mutters as he opens his email and sees a message from HR waiting for him. It’s right at the very top, with the little red exclamation marks to denote High Importance. Oberyn hates those exclamation marks. They only seem to turn up when he’s done something that he deems (personally) perfectly appropriate. But HR never seems to think so.

The head of HR is a man Oberyn loathes but can’t seem to get away from. Oberyn doesn’t hate his job, rather he quite likes it. He likes what he does and he’s good at it. But dealing with HR is another story.

The HR manager, Ty Lane, is an older man with a bad case of resting grump face. He constantly looked as if, if he wore glasses, he’d be glaring at you over the top of them. Quietly, Oberyn thinks Ty looks like an angry, elderly lion.

Oberyn sighs as he skims over the details of Ty’s email. Date, time, place, all the usual. Current infraction: ‘Inappropriate workplace relations’. What else was new? Oberyn has a feeling he knows which particular circumstance this one was referencing.

Last week he had been daydreaming at his desk when he noticed you walking past his cubicle. Of course he noticed you. He found you incredibly attractive; the way you walked, the confidence with which you moved, the defiance in your eyes that said ���I’m here and if you don’t like it, fuck off.” Oberyn appreciated confidence.

You were fairly new in the office. He hadn’t seen you around before about last month, yet you had already made a name for yourself though with the quality of the work you turned in. The management were impressed with your quiet efficiency and the way you didn’t overtly call attention to yourself. But somehow you demanded respect and by the gods, you got it.

On this particular occasion, he couldn’t take his eyes off your ass. You’d caught him staring, given him a wink and a little extra swish of your hips as you passed.

So how could anybody reasonably blame Oberyn for admiring such a perfect specimen of a human ass? Yours was perfect. He had to get a better look. You had practically told him to look.

And yet, apparently someone blamed him for looking. Because now he has that damned email from Ty Lane sitting in his inbox, waiting for that Read Receipt, confirming his appearance at the next mandatory workplace training.

He clicks Accept with another sigh. Then he gathers his thoughts for the rest of his workday.

At the appointed day and time, Oberyn finds himself sitting in a half-circle made of uncomfortably straight-backed chairs with a few other co-workers who, he supposed, had been dobbed in for similar infractions as he was. And...you. Why in the Mother’s name were YOU in here too? Oberyn’s mind wandered as he let himself imagine the myriad reasons you might have been called into this awful torture session.

Mr Lane was droning through his PowerPoint presentation detailing all those things you were and weren’t supposed to do in the workplace. And all the things you were and weren’t supposed to do with your coworkers. And...was that...was that? Celine Dion’s voice singing as background music?

Where does my heart beat now? Where is the sound That only echoes through the night?

Oberyn is trying to pay attention, he really is. His mind wanders again. To you. You’re just so...sexy. Confident. So perfect. So sultry as you just go about your day. The unwitting reason he’s in this room in the first place. He tries to keep his eyes to himself, but he can’t resist glancing over at you for a peek. Fuck. You’re openly watching him, not even trying to be subtle. You give Oberyn a wink and flick your eyes forward again. Pretending to pay attention to Ty’s boring slideshow.

Next time Oberyn looks over to you, he’s ready. You’re looking at him again and this time, he drops you a wink of his own. He sees your cheeks darken slightly and your eyes flash momentarily.

Where does my heart beat now? I can't live without, without feeling it inside I've need someone to give my heart to

Oberyn’s imagination strolls off again at what you might be thinking about. He only comes back to himself as he hears someone saying his name. Mr Lane. It sounds as if it’s not the first time he’s said it. Shit.

Oberyn senses a dreadful feeling of his pants growing tight. And he feels the unmistakeable tingling of his cock making itself known.

I feel it getting stronger and stronger and stronger, yeah And I feel inside Hearts are made to last till the end of time

His cock is definitely growing harder and he can feel it pulsing to the beat of Celine’s song. Shit.

Ty is speaking now. “Mr Martell, would you join us to role-play out the scenario we’ve been discussing. Please come up to the front. Your partner will be --” and he said the worst possible choice for partner: your name.

Oberyn’s brain stops briefly. His cock is at full mast and he knows it’ll be visible through the soft linen pants he prefers to wear. There’s no way he should be standing up right now, in front of a room full of people at a fucking sexual harassment meeting of all times. With YOU.

He puts on his most sincere face and attempts sanity. “Mr Lane, I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

Ty’s eyes narrow. “Oberyn, you are here and participation is mandatory. Get up here.”

“Mr Lane….being reasonable, this isn’t something you really want me to do right now.”

“Martell. NOW.”

Oberyn sighs. “Alright. Just remember, this is what you wanted.”

He stands and walks to the space at the front of the room. Ty’s attention has turned to you now as you walk up to join Oberyn, so he misses seeing the obvious tent in Oberyn’s pants. As you and Oberyn reach the front together and turn to face your audience, a gasp breaks the silence and a few snorts erupt from those watching. Oberyn’s mouth half-lifts up in a smirk.

Ty is not having it.

“People, we are all adults and we are here for a reason. Settle down, please. You two,” He gestures to the two of you with an exasperated wave of his hand. “continue. Now.”

In the scenario you and Oberyn are attempting to recreate, one employee is making unwanted advances toward the co-worker. The other is supposed to be shutting it down and ending the interaction before reporting it to HR. Oberyn expected he would be taking the role of the unwanted aggressor, given his reputation, but you surprise him by immediately starting with that role. Forcing him to take the receiving role.

“Well, hell-oooo gorgeous, how have I never seen YOU around here before? Where have you been hiding this incredible body?” You step closer and riffle the collar of his shirt, which (as usual) was barely hanging on to his shoulders due to its missing top three buttons.

He’s stunned. He can’t tell if you’re just a very good actor, or if you’re being serious. He hopes it’s the latter. His cock desperately adds its vote for the latter too.

Ty is silently shooting daggers at Oberyn as he tries to catch up and deliver his expected lines. “uh, why, hello, I don’t really -”

You continue as if he hadn’t said a word, and take another step closer. “You know, it’s really a shame we don’t work in the same department. We could be spending a lot - more - time - together,” as your first two fingers walk down the front of his buttonband and pause just above his waistband.

Oberyn didn’t think it was possible but his cock is growing even harder. You’re up close in his space, he can smell the scent of your hair, and the gleam in your eyes is practically shouting at him to bed you. He’s so hard it aches. He can’t think straight. What have you done to him? He’s supposed to be the office rogue, but here you are practically fucking him with your eyes in front of a room full of people.

He takes a breath. Finds his control. Takes a step back and grasps your hand and gently moves it back down to your side.

He says the lines expected of him, “This is neither the time nor the place, and I’m afraid you are making me uncomfortable. Please stop.” His voice is serious, but his eyes are locked with yours in flirtatious challenge. His hand is still holding yours and he’s making no effort to let go now that the act is over.

You’ve both fallen silent, standing stock-still, your eyes are still locked onto each other. A frission passes between you and suddenly the tension ebbs as Ty’s voice floats out as if from a distance. “Finally, thank you. You may sit down now.”

You and Oberyn startle back to your senses with Ty’s voice. Your glance flickers down at Oberyn’s crotch and his cock jumps in response. Oberyn squeezes your hand with another smirk. You take the obvious invitation and practically drag Oberyn out the door by the hand. You’ve both bolted so quickly that the door slams and bangs back open, swaying with the breeze of your passing.

Ty stares after you, dumbfounded, while the remaining participants in the room are giggling and whispering amongst themselves.

Poor Mr Lane. He can’t decide whether to follow you both and start proceedings now, or let you get it out of your systems first. He shakes his head and shuffles his paperwork before sighing to himself, “fucking Martells.”

[itsabea]

March x sad Reader

Description: March tries his best to comfort you after you have a particularly busy day and end up exhausted

Warnings: not proof read, hinting at depression(reader), slight angst, swearing,

this is purely self indulgent- but then again, almost all of my writing is-

You had been so busy today, exceedingly more so than usual. First of all, it was raining, which you didn't mind because it meant your crops were already watered - but things only got more hectic and busy from there on on out..

You collected, put away, sold, and replanted your crops, then went to go fishing for a salmon for Jo's Request that you had accepted about a month ago.. Only to realise about an hour an a half in that it was currently Summer. Now with much less of your energy, you went to the general store to buy some more seeds and a few fruit trees, which left you with a total of 5 Tesserae as a result.

After going back to your farm and planting the saplings and seeds, you realised that it was only two more days until the end of the season. And so, you went back to fishing to try and catch the rest of the Summer fish you need for the Museum. Admittedly, most of that time was spent walking to and from the ponds to the beach, as that's where the rest of the fish you needed were found.

Once it hit 5:30, you realised that it wasn't just the third to last day of the season.. It was also a Friday. Sighing and slumping your head back, you defeatedly headed home to get ready for your weekly visit to the Inn. Hauling the bag full fish with you on your back, you got back to your farm and placed the not so important ones in your shipping bin, only to realise that you needed one more pond fish to finish that collection.... And it only showed up in the rain..

You were tired. It wasn't that you didn't enjoy your new life in Mistria; helping out the town and it's people. Or that today was bad; you had many content and joy filled moments between it all. But you were tired. So, so, tired..

Right now, nothing was more appealing than curling up in your bed, and crying.

So that's what you did. You put away your items, got showered and dressed into your pyjamas, and you laid down in your bed and cried out the remainder of what little was left of your energy.

You didn't even end up falling asleep afterwards like you usually did when crying in your bed.. Which upset you much more than you realised it would.

I mean.. Why get up just to do it all again tomorrow? The next day would likely end up being longer than today as well.. Not that today wasn't enjoyable- But it wasn't as enjoyable as others... People need you around town though, they always tell you that- You're not that important - the townsfolk don't rely on you to live....

You curled up in on yourself more, lying on your side as the tears began to flow down your cheeks again. It felt hopeless. Everything felt like it wasn't worth it anymore. And you continued to cry in your home until a knock sounded on your door.

At first, you thought you had misheard and simply sighed out a sob. But after a much firmer knock, you realised that it wasn't just you hearing things. Tiredly getting up, you assumed it was Adaline or Eiland, popping by to inform you about a new job that needed to be done around town. Or maybe Celine or Hayden needing some sugar or something?

Either way, you knew all four options were kind enough to excuse your tired, red eyes and pyjama clad form, so you didn't bother trying to make yourself the slightest bit presentable before opening the door. Which was a big mistake on your part, because March was the one that stood in your doorframe, looking down at you with a frown you could barley see through your slightly blurred vision.

"Why are you here?" March said suddenly, looking too the side as you rubbed at your eyes to try and clear them up. "Uhm- I live here?" You responded, no energy left to think up or question his presence on your farm.

After a huff and an exaggerated eyeroll, March rephrased went on to rephrase his question. "No- Why aren't you-" But he cut his words short when he watched your head bob forward like a sleepy child. "What, did you get tired from playing in the dirt all day? I can't believe you-" "Fuck you." You said back, one last tear rolling down your cheek as whatever energy you had that was keeping you standing left you.

In that same instant, you felt a falling sensation as your vision went black. You were tired.

Every so often you'd end up seeing glimpses of your home, but it was somehow moving? Your doorframe.. Black.. Your ceiling... Black... Your ceiling light.... Black.... More ceiling..... Black.....

Every time you saw black, you felt relieved and slightly less tired, especially compared to when you could see your home. And then, a warm sensation surrounded you, like you were being wrapped in a big hug that left you yearning for more.

When you reopened your eyes, you found yourself tucked into bed. The blankets were up to your ears as you laid on your side, about to roll over when you finally noticed the red head of hair resting on top of the blankets in front of you. Humming out, with a slight groaned mumbled, you went to speak up but were promptly cut off.

"Shup up and go back to sleep." March said, lifting his head from its resting position to look at you with stern, yet soft eyes. Feeling your tiredness envelope you, you closed your eyes but felt the cogs in your brain ticking. Why was March here? What was he doing? And why were you in your bed- You suddenly remembered falling into March in your doorway, and him carrying you to your bed before tucking you in.

You felt bad for cursing at him now, but you were also much more confused about why he was even at your farm in the first place. "March-" You started, only for said male to cut you off. "Shoosh. I said, 'go back to sleep'." He retorted, and if your eyes weren't still closed, you had a feeling that he'd glare at you again.

You didn't end up going back to sleep, but you did have a very calm conversation with March as you continued to rest with your eyes closed.

"I'm sorry." March said, being the first to speak after he told you to sleep for the second time. "Why-" "Shut up, you're supposed to be asleep." March said, cutting you off as moment of silence followed before he ended up answering your question. "I know I can be.. A rude asshole - a lot of the time.." March admitted as you felt him start to play with the top of the blanket slightly.

You didn't dare make a single sound as he continued to talk, telling you about how everyone at the Inn was starting to wonder where you were, and how Reina came to the conclusion that you might be over worked.. "-Then Olric offered to check up on you and-" March paused before continuing, having now moved his arm back down from the hem of the blanket as he ceased his delicate fiddling. "And.. And I told him I'd go instead."

The fact you were now frowning didn't go unnoticed by March, who must've been watching you to make sure you didn't open your eyes again. "I know, I know.. I don't why either.... You just-.... You made everyone worried.." March said, trailing off as he went silent again.

After feeling the blankets shift slightly beside you, you peaked your eye open to see March was doing, only to get told off again after seeing March's head resting on his arm directly in front of you. "Sleep." He said, but you had already closed your eye when you saw his eyes intently watching yours.

Your face ran hot with heat from the proximity, which was apparently very visible to March. "Fuck- Please don't tell me you have a damn fever.." He grumbled out, using the back of his free hand to touch your forehead as he continued to complain. "If you went diving and didn't fucking keep warm I'm taking you to Valen." March half threatened, prompting you to frown as he retracted his hand from your forehead.

"Your shipping bin smells like fish." He clarified before you felt him move against the blankets again. This time you felt weight remove itself from beside you, which had you shooting your eyes open with a desperation for company. March looked at you blankly from where he still sat on the floor beside your bed, leaning back on his arms as you watched him open his mouth to tell you off again.

"I'm sleeping..!" You said quickly, hearing a huff emit from the red head in front of your once more closed eyes.

"So.." March started after seconds more of silence. "Why weren't you at the Inn?" He asked, making an exhausted sigh leave you before you spoke. "Tired." You said, waiting for a moment before elaborating on your day. "Tended to crops.. Fed animals... Fished for a stupid non-existent Summer salmon.... Spent all my money on crops.... Planted them.... Went fishing again, but for the Museum.... Died inside.... No energy.... Cried in bed.." You said, starting to tear up again when March spoke up.

"I know it goes against what I always say to you.. But you do a lot around here- Too fucking much to be honest.. And I-" March paused for the umpteenth time that night as you pried your eyes open and looked at him.

He was sitting in the exact same position as when you last opened your eyes, only now he had his head turned from you. Yet, his eyes keep their sights on you, and this time he didn't have the heart to tell you off. March ended up breaking contact with your eyes, his face reddening slightly as he spoke.

"You're enough- More than enough.. You're honestly too much but- Sigh...." March quickly darted his eyes to, and away from you before he continued. "You're a lot. You're so much.. You mean so much- To literally everyone." He said, making another, single tear fall down your face. But this time you had just enough energy.

"Thank you.. March." You managed out, smiling as a few more tears fell down and onto the pillow beneath you.

March wasn't sure what had you crying this time, unsure on whether he did good or bad with his words. But he was by your side once more the moment he watched those tears form into droplets in the corners of your eyes. With a sigh of relief, March relaxed after seeing the slight smile on your face, only to watch it fall the next second as a soft snore left you.

Finally.. You were asleep.

[pedroscurls]

tale as old as time (one-shot)

summary: after a very rough night, logan finally decides that you deserve better than him. nothing ever works out for him - chaos and danger follows him wherever he goes and he can't subject you to that life. not you.

spairing: old man!logan x fem!reader content warnings: angst (with a happy ending, i promise!), established relationship, logan is bad at feelings (what's new lol), descriptions of blood and violence, no use of y/n. word count: 1.7k a/n: ok i'm gonna be honest... i've never seen beauty & the beast so i hope i did this justice. i've also been missing writing for logan... and what better way to get back into it than partake in @princessanglophile's 22nd birthday writing challenge! thanks for hosting this challenge, lex - and happy birthday + congrats! <3 i wanted to a disney song with a logan version and got "old man logan with the song beauty and the beast"... i mean, how fitting for this character?! hope y'all enjoy <3 song: beauty and the beast by celine dion & peabo bryson

Logan leans against his limo—white tank top bloodied, body in excruciating pain. Had it always felt like this? Logan knows that he’s dying. His regenerative powers not working like they used to and maybe life’s finally catching up to him. After everything he’s done, the people he’s hurt and killed, it’s finally his time—his turn. 

A happy ending was never in the cards for him. Every person he’s ever loved or cared about had either died because of him or chosen to leave because who would want to spend the rest of their days with a man like him? 

He had accepted his fate long before you came into his life. You were the complete opposite of him—gentle and kind, patient and understanding, and absolutely beautiful. You had caught him off guard when you slid into the back of his limousine with a group of your friends. The way your eyes met his from the rear view mirror had him thinking about you long after he dropped you and your friends off for the night. 

He couldn’t understand why someone like you wanted to spend the rest of your days with someone like him. It’s only a matter of time until you realize like the rest, right? 

Logan’s tried to keep you at a distance—to protect you, to keep you safe from him. But you’re persistent, stubborn and he can’t help but continue to give you what you want. 

How can someone so beautiful love someone as monstrous as him? 

Don’t you know that this is only going to end badly? 

Logan’s tried to reason with himself, tried to think that this can work, but tonight… Tonight was a wake up call. A reality check. The life he lives, the person he is… it’s not a life that he wants you to be a part of. Not you. 

Because you deserve so much more than what he can give you, Logan knows that.

Before Logan can even knock on your door, you swing the door open—almost like you knew he’d be on your doorstep this late in the night. He can see the expression on your face when you finally turn on the light to your front door. He sees the way your brows furrow in concern, eyes filled with sadness at the sight of him. God, he wishes he can just be normal for once, for you. 

“Hey bub—”

You interrupt him because you wrap your arms around him. It’s gentle, careful and it’s something that he still isn’t used to. “You’re okay,” you whisper. “You’re okay.” You’re repeating it like it’s a chant, like maybe you’re trying to reassure yourself that he’s fine, he’s alive, he’s here. 

“Listen, we have to talk,” Logan whispers out. Voice hoarse, body still screaming in pain. 

“Okay, let’s—Let’s get you cleaned up first, yeah?” You lead him inside your home and Logan scans your living room—he’s trying to remember what this place looks like, how safe and at home he feels here with you because he’s sure that this will be the last time he ever sets foot inside. 

You lead him into the bathroom and you grab the first aid kit that you keep in the medicine cabinet. You’re used to this, used to cleaning up his wounds and making sure that he’s okay. He sits at the edge of the bathtub, removes his tank top with a quiet groan and his eyes move in your direction when he hears a quiet gasp escape your lips.

“This is worse than before, Logan.” 

“I know,” he answers gruffly. “Listen, we have to talk—”

“After I clean you up,” you interrupt again. There you go again—persistent, stubborn and it makes the corner of his lips lift upwards just slightly. 

“Fine.” 

“Thank you,” you say with a smile—the same smile that has captured his heart so many months ago and for some reason, it’s no longer the wounds that are causing him pain at this very moment… 

It’s the conversation that he’s dreading to have because he knows that smile on your face will fall and tears will stream down that beautiful face of yours. 

But he has to do it. 

For him… for you. 

You’re careful in cleaning up his wounds, focused on the task at hand. Even though he can feel the sting of the alcohol against the cuts, your touch is still so very gentle. He gazes up at you, memorizing every inch of your beautiful face. He wants so badly to just spend the rest of his days here with you, but he knows he can’t… knows he shouldn’t. 

“Will you tell me what happened?” You finally ask. 

“Same thing that always happens,” he shrugs. 

Logan hears you sigh. He knows you don’t like the way he doesn’t make a big deal about this, about how serious it is. He can still see the concern etched into your features and he gently reaches out, places his hand gently on your wrist. He ceases your movements and when your eyes finally meet his, he can see them glistening with unshed tears. 

“Baby,” he says quietly. Barely above a whisper. “We can’t keep doin’ this.” 

You shake your head. “Doing what?” 

“You know what. This—Me…This isn’t what you deserve.” 

“And how do you know what I deserve, Logan?”

“You’re right. I don’t,” he sighs and drops his hand. “I just know that it’s not me.” 

“I don’t care who you are, what you are—”

“But you should,” Logan interrupts. Slowly, his wounds begin to heal itself but the pain lingers. It always lingers now. 

“But I don’t.” 

“Baby,” he repeats. “Chaos will always follow me and I can’t—” Logan’s jaw tightens and he has to look away from you. He can’t stand the look on your face—the disappointment, the tears slowly trickling down your cheeks, eyes once filled with so much hope and love now filled with sadness. 

And it’s all because of him. 

“I can’t have you be part of it,” he finishes. “You’re too good, too kind, too gentle and I’m… I’m nothing like that.” Logan shakes his head and slowly stands from the bath tub, grabbing his blood stained tank top to pull it over himself. 

“No.” You finally speak. It’s only one work but it speaks volumes because you’re staring at him, holding your ground—persistent, stubborn. 

“Sorry?” He asks, confused. 

“I said no.” 

“Don’t think you have a choice,” he says harshly. “I’m doing this for you. I can’t give you what you want, bub. You deserve someone better than me.” 

“You can’t make that choice for me,” you quip. Despite the tears threatening to spill over, you hold your ground. You want him to see what you see—a man who’s tried to make the most of what life gave him. A man who would doanything to protect the people he cared about. A man who does have a good heart. 

Logan just huffs, but he doesn’t move. He stands in your bathroom with you in front of him and he doesn’t bother to look at you either. It’s easier this way, he tells himself. 

“If you didn’t want me to be part of this,” you tell him, motioning between the both of you. “Then you shouldn’t have come here tonight.” 

His eyes glance in your direction and he tightens his jaw. He knows you’re right, but how can he tell you that it was one last chance for him to see you? “You’re right. I shouldn’t have come here tonight.” 

Logan’s about to walk past you, but he feels your soft touch on his chest. He glances down at your hand and can see the way your thumb brushes against the fabric of his white tank top. This simple touch grounds him and he shuts his eyes, leans into you as his hand reaches out to gently rest on your hip. 

“You’re running away,” you whisper. “And you can’t.” Your other hand reaches up to touch his cheek, thumb brushing against his jawline. You hear Logan let out a quiet sigh—he’s melting into you. “You’re right where you belong.” 

“You’re you and I’m…me.” Logan whispers, hand squeezing your hip. “Why me?” He asks. “Why me when you deserve someone so much better?” 

“You’re my person, Logan,” you admit. “I don’t care if you don’t believe it or not, but you are.”

“I’m a monster,” he says quietly, voice shaky. 

“Says who?” You whisper, gently running your thumb across his cheekbone. His eyes slowly open and you’re staring into him—it’s the same look in your eyes the first moment he met you. Kind, welcoming, hopeful. 

“Baby,” he repeats with a sigh. “Why do you think I’ve spent my entire life alone, hm?”

“Maybe we break that curse then, don’t you think?” Gently, you lean in and press a soft kiss on his lips. “I’d spend the rest of my days helping you realize how good of a man you are. You didn’t choose this life, I know that,” you sigh. “But you’ve always tried to do good.” 

You can see his own eyes begin to glisten. You lean forward, forehead pressing against his own as you feel his other hand move to your other hip. “I love you,” you whisper. “But you can’t walk out on me because you think I deserve better. You cannot make that decision for me.” 

Logan doesn’t say anything because he knows you’re right—you always are. “I’m only trying to look out for you, baby.” 

“I know,” you whisper. “But you told me everything before we even got to this point in our relationship and I chose to stay. This is me choosing to stay again.” 

“Why?” Logan asks honestly. 

“Because you’re worth it.” You answer. “And because my life is better with you in it.” 

Logan stares into your eyes, trying to see how true it is. He feels his breath catch in his throat at the sight of you. Your gaze doesn’t falter—you don’t look away. It’s a soft look in your eyes and almost pleading for him to see what you see. Then, a tear slides down his cheek because for once, Logan feels like he belongs—this, here, with you… it’s where he was always meant to be. 

He leans in and gently pecks your lips. “Okay, bub.” Logan whispers. “Okay.” 

And now, Logan’s determination has shifted into looking for a way to get healthy again…For you. 

[atramenting]

I already posted this on bsky but this is my FoM farmer OC, Lake! Please excuse the fact that the little drawing of him is in almost the same pose as the sprite - I wanted to do a little redraw ^^;

A "Caldosian adventurer" with seemingly nothing in his past worth talking about, Lake comes to Mistria after finding the job posting in a city he was passing through. Having no home of his own, he thinks the offer sounds pretty swell - a house, however small and shabby, in exchange for some basic work? It sounds like a steal, especially after sleeping in the woods with nothing but a ragged tent and pallet most nights.

His original intentions are to come to town, save up whatever he can from his excess profits, and then disappear over the Caldosian border before anyone can find out anything about him. However, the warmhearted nature of the townsfolk winds up drawing him in, and he finds himself genuinely wanting to help restore what's been damaged in the aftermath of the earthquake. When he and Eiland unintentionally restore Caldarus, though it may be to just a bit of his former power, Caldarus offers Lake the ability to perform magic -- something that Lake had often found himself wishing for as a young child.

Against his better judgment, he accepts the boon from his new dragon companion and puts a real effort into shaping up the land he's been given, slowly growing closer to his new Mistrian neighbors. He quickly befriends Hayden when the man finds out he also has a soft spot for small farm animals, as well as Celine, who is more than happy to help him learn some of the finer points of gardening. However, it quickly becomes obvious that, despite technically working for Adeline, Lake is trying to avoid interacting with the town's nobility.

Gee, Adeline and Eiland think, he must be shy, being the newest face in town! Surely he's just nervous because he's not used to interacting with nobles! And so they make it their goal to make Lake realize that, despite their finery and manner, their parents are quite unlike many of the stuck-up vassals to the throne! They're just normal people!

What they don't realize, though, is that Lake is a former member of a group of... well, the sort of people that don't interact with polite society. Orphaned as a young child, he was taken in by the thieves who murdered his parents -- though he didn't know that part -- and branded as a part of their guild. At age twelve, he was given the chance to choose between two paths: either continue being the equivalent of servant, doomed to a life tending his overseers' livestock and gardens, or... become one of them.

He worked as a member of the thieves' guild for some time, until one fateful day. At age twenty-two, he was scoping out a market stall when a young lord happened to pass by and see the brand on his inner wrist. The man flew into a frenzy, accusing Lake of any number of crimes, exposing him there for what he was -- a lowly thief, one of the very group that had plagued the city for ages. Lake tried to explain that he had no idea what the man was talking about, and truthfully, for he had only come to Aldaria that week -- but he was soon set upon by not only the man's armed guards, but a furious swarm of marketgoers and stallkeepers as well.

At the end of a harrowing chase, Lake thought he had escaped, only to come face-to-face with the lord who had hurled those accusations his way. Beaten and exhausted, Lake tried to reason with him, but the man revealed the reason for his hatred - "My father died because of your sort!"

Lake looked down at that brand on his wrist, and something like understanding washed over him. He would always be one of the crooks who had taken lives and livelihoods -- there was no way talking like this was going to work. As he tried, the lord advanced on him, brandishing his sword -- and so Lake took out his own, and ended the man's life to earn his freedom.

The Caldosian border was on lockdown, any number of kingsmen could be searching for him, and so Lake turned to the nearest outpost -- only to be shunned for such a blatant crime, for having drawn attention to the guild with such a brazen murder. He fled for his life there, too, for the ones he might have considered brothers and sisters were only interested in collecting the bounty now on his head.

With nowhere to go, Lake ran and ran until he collapsed. He awoke in a small cabin in the woods, where he met the man who had saved him - a man who knew exactly who he was, and who still wanted to hear his side of the story. After explaining himself, Lake assumed he would get dragged off to the nearest town to be jailed and hanged, but instead the stranger just asked him -- "How does life as an adventurer sound?"

With the mark on his wrist obscured by a new tattoo, and a new identity pieced together for him by an experienced explorer, Lake began taking work through the Aldarian Adventurer's Guild, where he eventually earned enough merit to make a meager living for himself. However, he always stayed on the move -- afraid that if he stayed anywhere long enough for someone to recognize him, to find an old wanted poster and notice the resemblance or the holes in his backstory, that his new life of freedom would be taken from him.

And so it went, until Lake came to Mistria, where the baron's son took a particular interest in him for some unknown reason. And where he, as fate would have it, fell head over heels for Eiland in turn, while also trying to master dragon magic and keep his chickens and rabbits from eating his entire garden. Oh, and also, some other political drama as Mistria begins rising through the rankings, and the king's vassals start getting very suspicious and jealous of what's going on with all of that.

Fun facts: -Lake is vegetarian. He had to slaughter many of the animals he raised during his time with the thieves' guild, and it broke his heart every time. He has tons of pets now -- not livestock. He will correct anyone who makes that mistake.

-He loves fruits, and consequently, any sort of juice, sweet, drink, or dessert made out of them. He doesn't have a favorite, as it would be a tie between far too many! The fact that he can grow them all now is an absolute joy -- and the ones that only grow in the wild? He frequently goes foraging for them, whether to eat straight from the bush or to preserve for later.

-He likes keeping fish. They're pretty and relaxing to watch, so he often finds himself seated in front of an aquarium, lost in thought.

-He is a little bit shy, but also a good actor. He finds himself overwhelmed frequently when it comes to talking shop with Hayden, despite the man's friendly nature. As such, it's also super easy to convince him to do anything, because he'll just freeze up and agree to whatever it is a person is suggesting. He finds himself in a lot of situations like this, wishing he hadn't offered to help, and yet unwilling to go back on his word. (He's a good person now, he keeps telling himself.)

-He's a natural with the sword. He tries to avoid violence where possible, but there's also a part of him deep down that is really proud of the talent. He keeps this to himself for sure. He also wears his sword everywhere in Mistria -- something that's odd to the townspeople, but quickly gets filed as just a quirk.

-Lake and Eiland begin forming their friendship when it comes out that Lake is almost entirely uneducated. He can read and write, sure, and he's up to date on modern events -- but history? It's fascinating, but he feels like an idiot for not knowing even the most basic facts. Eiland loves teaching people, especially when it focuses on his own interests, and so they wind up spending a lot of time together.

-Lake doesn't get along well with Juniper or March. He doesn't trust whatever it is that Juniper is up to -- or the fact that she can sense Caldarus's magic on him. With March, they learn to tolerate each other, but Lake has really strong feelings on people who are assholes, undoubtedly from dealing with that sort quite a bit during his upbringing. For the sake of keeping the peace, though, Lake bites his tongue. Most of the time.

-Aside from Hayden and Celine, his closest neighbors, Lake also finds himself getting along well with Ryis and Olric. He also respects Valen a lot, but is fairly intimidated by her.

-He loves swooshy cloaks/capes and big hats. These become a part of his usual attire after be begins working for the Adventurer's Guild, and only ever go away when the situation calls for it.

-He's a little bit vain about his hair. He was never able to grow it long until he became an adventurer, so he's been working diligently to keep it healthy ever since.

-He pierced his own ears when he was fifteen and just a little bit edgy. He likes to mix it up between studs and hoops, but nothing too dangly, or it gets caught in his hair.

-He cannot control his magic very well. He often finds himself using the spells Caldarus has taught him when he doesn't want to be using them. All it takes is for him to close his eyes and breathe in the scent of dew upon the morning grass, to feel that sense of peace and relaxation he's never gotten before coming here --- and suddenly his plants have doubled in height, and so have all the weeds in a 200m radius, making more work for himself.

-He also causes a major thunderstorm on the night of the Star Festival, when Eiland takes his hand and offers to walk him home after their date. The two of them basically slide down the mountain in the mud, laughing the entire way.

[ladyrebellion]

Pedro Pascal’s reflections reveal emotional depth and maturity. His view of love as both sacred and challenging suggests a deep, spiritual perspective and a willingness to confront vulnerability. By speaking openly about the “holiness” and “insane difficulty” of love, he shows high emotional intelligence and a realistic, yet idealistic approach to relationships. His authenticity in that moment resonated so strongly that Celine Song saw him as Harry,not just acting, but embodying the character’s soul. It reflects a personality that values meaningful connections and accepts love as a transformative, if difficult, path.

[zuppizup]

So, it’s dipped below 20C/68F here, which means I’m shifting to winter mode.

Rayllum modern AU Christmas brain is engaging…

Mayhaps Bridget Jones’ Diary style AU?

Because I am accepting I’ll never write the Pride and Prejudice AU

Obviously, Callum will play the role of Bridget, complete with drunken “All by myself” lip syncing to Celine.

[sweetbunpura]

Rollo wakes up to Alexandre sleeping cuddled against his neck. Rollo simply sighs and accepts his fate as this is the 3rd time he's escaped Celine's room this week just to snuggle with him. Thankfully, domestic rats are very clean creatures.

Yuu has taken a picture of it after she gets back from her work out and Rollo fell asleep again.

[spiderfunkz]

✦ RING, RING, RING!

"i think i can really fall in love with him."

word count : 0,9k

warnings : fluff, fem!reader, gwen is mentioned to be readers best friend, harry is mentioned as well, cutesy first dates, peter being just so madly in love & so are you. not proofread!

a/n : inspired by that one scene from 'before sunrise' where celine and jesse pretend to call their friends and tell them about each other :)) also i know i'm late to valentines but it's still february sooooo

if you told yourself a few days ago that you'd be spending valentines day with peter parker, you would laugh at the thought of it.

but right now you couldn't laugh at anything but peter's stupidly unfunny jokes and his cheesy, dry, pickup lines.

you couldn't imagine what valentines would be like with peter parker, but you don't have to. you're experiencing it right now.

he had asked you in a way you've only seen in rom-coms from the 90s. he knocked on your door with a ridiculously large bouquet of flowers, a heart shaped box full of chocolate, and a nervous nerdy smile.

and you accepted it obviously. peter's nice. really nice. out of all the boys in your class, he's a gentleman compared to them.

he's got those big brown doe eyes that make you blush if you make eye contact. that weirdly fluffy hair, that makes you wonder what his hair care routine is like sometimes. the sweetest smile you could ever imagine. and a heart bigger than a size of a lake.

and my gosh, you love him.

he made a reservation at this restaurant. one that you've passed by many times but never seem to stop by. you've always thought it was too fancy for a normal hangout with friends or family, it was always crowded with couples too. it always had a jazz band playing, roses on each table, and you could smell the scent of love from outside.

it was everything you've ever dreamed of. you didn't want it to end but unfortunately, the day got darker and the sun began to set.

"i really enjoyed today, peter." you smile.

"yeah of course. i really enjoyed today too." he replied, there was still a splotch of spaghetti sauce near his mouth.

"unfortunate that the hours went by so quickly, i think i have to go home soon." you pout, peter was still smiling, that spaghetti splotch is not going anywhere.

"or maybe we could still talk, for a bit." he paused for a second before making a hand gesture resembling a phone.

"ring, ring, ring!" he mimicked. you furrow your brows.

"pick it up." he stays smiley.

"okay, beep." you laugh, following his gestures.

peter mouths a 'thank you' before continuing, "oh yeah uh, harry? harry are you there?" he asks.

you knew harry, he's peter's closest friend. they're like two peas in a pod and you could never separate them, not even when harry moved away for years.

you join in his little joke. "uh yeah dude, this is harry. dude." you try to mimic his voice.

"yeah, hey harry! do you remember that girl i was gonna ask out for valentines? the really pretty girl from bio class?" his face became pink.

"oh yeah! the really pretty girl. i know her."

"yeah so, she's with me right now and i am just so happy."

"really? how happy?"

"extremely. she's so fun to talk to. she's so incredibly wonderful and i cannot put it into words how beautiful she is. really harry, you were right. she's an angel."

you smile. "really what else? how did the date go?" your voice rasps, clearly you couldn't really perfect the accent harry has. but peter seemed to like it.

"amazing. the food was great, this restaurant is good, i uh- got the reservation in time so everything has been going perfectly.

she's such a ray of sunshine. i can't stop stealing a glance every time, harry. i dunno what's about it, she's just so- perfect."

peter continues. he's doing it on purpose. well, not really, he was going to call harry and say all of those things. but he thinks it's better to tell you face to face. besides, he loves seeing you smile.

you try your best to blurt out a reply without stuttering. "that's um, that's amazing, dude. i bet she feels the same way about you." you could feel the butterflies in your stomach.

"you really think so?" peter tilts his head.

"i'm sure."

"well, thanks harry. i'll see you later, bye bye." he hangs up, mimicking a beep on the table.

you laugh.

"okay now it's your turn."

"my turn? oh, okay." you gesture your hand.

"dring, dring, dring!" you say, "ugh she's probably studying right now." you explain.

peter picks up, in a voice that will haunt you for years. "hey, girl! what is up!" peter laughs.

it took every cell in your body to not burst out laughing in front of everyone in that restaurant. "hi, gwen. is uh- is your voice okay?" you ask.

"better than ever!" — "oh, okay." you hold your laughter. "um, you know peter? peter parker from biology. the one with fluffy hair and pretty eyes?"

peter smiles, he blushes from his nose.

"yeah so, i'm on a date with him right now. and it feels like a dream. he's prettier up close. he styled his hair, yeah, it's pretty. and he's got spaghetti sauce smeared near his lips." you smile.

peter immediately fixes the splotch, finally.

"he's kind of tall. and he's kinda nerdy too. just my type." you cover your smile, "i like to feel his eyes on me when i look away." you continued.

peter smiles, "what a nice guy."

"he really is. as the date goes on i start to like him even more. i feel like i can really open up to him."

"really?"

"mhm. he got me flowers and some chocolate too. he's funny too, he's got a voice i can listen to for hours. he's like a shot of espresso, you know?"

peter couldn't hide his blush anymore. "a shot of espresso?"

"he makes me feel energized in a way, and he also makes my heart beat really fast." you laugh, "i think i can really fall in love with him."

[l0veu-somuch]

nct dream as boy/girl dads ... 👼🏻⭐️

mark who still maintains his insane working hours and practicing late into the night even when he has his two favorite girls waiting back home (and it makes him feel terrible). he comes home when it's way past your daughter's bedtime and you're always still waiting for him even when it's three am in the morning. when the day breaks his daughter thinks she's being very quiet but she's quite clumsy as she steps all over his legs while she climbs onto the bed to wake him up. he blows raspberries onto the baby's cheeks as he trudges into the kitchen, pressing a sweet kiss to your shoulder as a thank you for the pancakes.

renjun who simply cannot contain his excitement when his daughter's painting is selected for an award in the school art competition. he brags about her drawings all the time to his parents, his friends, the elderly woman who bags his groceries. he says she got it from him. it's quite right. he cheers the loudest when her name is called, even blinks some pesky tears away (something you make sure to make fun of when you're in the car later on) when his sweet girl comes up on stage to accept her certificate and take a picture, in the dress she picked out with his help because it's a very special day.

if you ever asked jeno what he kept in his bag then you would (or would not) be surprised at the endless amount of candy and sugary treats he pulls out of it that he keeps for both himself and your daughter. it's clear where she got her sweet tooth from. usagi transforms into sailor moon on the television screen, your daughter astrode on his lap, each of them holding a pink spoon and taking turns scooping bites of cookies 'n cream and macademia into their mouths. you collapse onto the sofa with an exaggerated sigh once you finish dishes duty, your head falling into the unoccupied crook of jeno's neck. your daughter swings a spoonful of ice cream towards your mouth, calling it a reward for working hard "because daddy always does it" and you accept with a giggle.

donghyuck drums his fingers on the steering wheel to the soundtrack of moana, occasionally peeking to the back to check on his sleeping girl tucked into the car seat. he keeps a hand nestled into her soft locks as he steers her towards where you said you'd be waiting at the department store, making a very important decision on whether you should get the white or sage green kitten heels for your cousin's wedding in jeju next month. your daughter then pops on a pair of oversized celine sunglasses, and it's too funny and adorable that the salesgirl was giving the three of you the stink eye for making such a ruckus in the store. he pays for it anyways, because he'll probably steal it for himself for when he has to be at the airport at early hours to leave for an overseas schedule or concert.

jaemin tries his best, really. he just can't help it when he sees luke sitting by his son as he draws on the coffee table. you can't expect him to bake the chocolate chip cookies, watch for stains on the oak from your son's oil pastels and feed all three cats at once. he doesn't know how you do it. luckily the cookies don't burn in the oven, he puts down parchment so the oak table is safe, and all cats are soothed by your son's magic touch and gentle pressing hand. when you notice a speck of oil pastel in their furs later on you only sigh and make a call to the salon to get them a bath, noticing their claws have been getting too long to the point they can mar your precious boys' skin.

you raise a hand to shield your eyes from the blaring sunlight, the piercing rays making chenle and your son look like mere sillhouettes as they zip around the court, the boinking sound of the basketball echoing in the park that's not too crowded for a friday morning. you can tell he's being much more gentle and a lot slower than he usually does for your son, fixing his stances and the grip of his fingers on the ball as he demonstrates a three pointer. your son joyfully claps everytime he shoots, and he ruffles his hair as a thank you. he calls out to you, demanding his congratulations kiss, but there is no way you're even going to come close to two very sweaty boys under the sweltering august heat.

your son actually prefers jisung to read him the bedtime stories he keeps in his shelf. he tucks him into the crook of his arm, whispering gently of the boy who discovers a treasure box in the forest and goes on an adventure with his pet hamster. his voice is too low to catch over the running of the sink as you remove your makeup, secretly wishing your son would fall asleep faster so that you can brush your teeth together. you watch from the doorway as he very carefully detaches himself from your son's side to slip the book back into its place on the bookshelf, tuck the sheets up to his chin, and place a gentle kiss to his forehead before he clicks the star shaped light off and his arm comes up to circle around your waist, pressing you against the wall to collect his kiss that tastes like peppermint toothpaste and your scent he can never get enough of.

[winterfireice]

Can we talk about how Lia + Micheal and Cassie + Dean are both completely opposites and the exact same thing at the same time

They both are couples that just need for someone to understand them and accept who they are without the pretense that has been set for them their whole lives.

But where they diverge is how they cope with that need.

Dean + Cassie has understood that to be in a relationship like that they need to actually be open to the other person. They understand that to be understood and accepted they need to be valurnable.

Lia + Micheal never grew up being allowed to be valurnable (neither did Dean but I feel like Veronica trusting him when he was a kid opened up the possibility for Cassie) and they both are incredibly head strong people with the mentality of “I’ll leave you before you have the chance to leave me”. That scene when Celine first goes missing (the “ive loved her longer than you” one) proves that they do want to love each other but they just can’t open up to each other enough to have a healthy relationship

[pengweng-quack]

Bloodbound

Carlisle Cullen x Human!OC

Summary: Place Carlisle in the Edward situation of falling in love with a human, and see what happens

Chapter 1/?

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8

Notes:

The only thing that took so long about this is the title because fuck titles (genuinely)

This is on Ao3 under the same title and username if you'd like to read it there (https://archiveofourown.org/works/54527830)

Probably would be my last (long) twilight post in a while since I've lost interest in the series for a while (give it like 3 weeks before I regain it lmao)

Posting (just like before) is random lol, hope you guys enjoy this story

Much much longer than Being a Witch with Vampires by the way, so we're in a long ride (or you are, because I already know the story)

Word Count: 2294 words

General warning: I used some religious references in this story so read with caution if you're not so keen into reading that

TW for this chapter: None

PM or Comment to be added on the taglist for this one!

Masterlist

A full year had passed since the Cullens returned to Forks, now acting as grownups instead of some teenager studying in Forks high school, minus Renesmee, to her dismay. Carlisle received a warm welcome back to the hospital, where he encountered new faces introduced to him since his departure.

“Good morning Doctor Cullen.” A nurse with red hair greeted politely to him, he was around his height and had brown eyes, a face that he doesn’t remember during his time there

“I’m nurse Sean, not the chief nurse but I think Eunice is getting her out now.” Sean informed him “You’ll like her I think, she’s professional as fuck.”

A girl with her chestnut hair tied up in a bun walked out of a room. At that moment, all Carlisle could think about was how captivating the woman was, everything about her screamed authority, he knew then and there that she was the chief nurse.

Time felt like it slowed down when they locked eyes, this woman has plagued over his mind. Carlisle subtly admired her face, she had eyes that matched the shade of her hair and pale pink lips that complimented her fair complexions.

“Celine Wright, chief nurse here.” Celine introduced herself with a prim and proper tone. She offered her hand in a handshake and Carlisle accepted it, feeling the warmth of her hand against the coldness of his

“Carlisle Cullen, former chief doctor here.” Carlisle introduced back, pulling his hand away from the handshake “Pleasure to meet you.”

From the stories that Carlisle has heard, Celine was 25 years old when she assumed the position and has demonstrated remarkable competence, excelling in her role for a year prior his return with unparalleled precision and skill.

But it was distracting him, she was distracting him. Despite her undeniable competence, it was her blood that proved to be the real challenge for Carlisle. The tantalizing scent of it often left Carlisle struggling to focus, forcing him to endure long stretches without breathing just to filter out the temptation.

But even after leaving work, her scent lingered in his mind, infiltrating every aspect of his life. Something as harmless as a report file with a hint of her scent could drive him to the brink of madness.

It’s been a year since Carlisle has been working with Celine, a year of extreme caution over his thirst. He was always making sure that he was fed before going to the hospital, making sure that there was always some distance between them. However, as the chief nurse, their interactions were inevitable, presenting a constant challenge to Carlisle's restraint.

It also didn’t help that Celine’s kind and caring nature was growing on him in ways that he didn’t expect that it’ll do so. Her smile became a source of motivation for him, brightening his day with a single glance. He found himself instinctively seeking her out upon arriving at work, drawn to her presence like a magnet.

Celine was growing on him, as a person, as a friend, as someone that he wishes he could pursue openly.

“She’s your blood singer and mate.” Edward concluded, having experienced a similar scenario before “You’re dealing with what I’ve dealt with when Bella was still human.”

“Great,” Rosalie scoffed, crossing her arm “Another human.”

“Carlisle won’t pressure her into something that she doesn’t want to partake herself in.” Esme assured everyone

“We would never know if he doesn’t pursue her.” Alice said, holding on from having another vision whether Celine Wright was in their future or not

“Would we rob Carlisle a chance to finally be with his mate?” Edward argued to Rosalie

“Would you rob another girl’s humanity for an uncertainty?” Rosalie asked him back; the tension was growing between the two

“Enough with the arguing.” Carlisle said, a decision set in his head

“I’ve figured out that she’s my mate. But I will not pressure her into anything.” He stated at once to everyone that was listening to him “Nor will I pursue her whatsoever. Let the future play how it has planned to be. Alice, Edward, no attempting to manipulate it to one of your visions.”

Just in time, his alarm has rung, notifying him that he has a shift to get ready for. He bids his goodbye, going to his office to get ready.

He was painfully slow, questioning whether his choice was the right one, plagued by uncertainty and the fear of denying himself a chance at happiness.

But underneath his own desires was the concern for Celine's well-being. He couldn't bear the thought of forcing her into a life she didn't want, no matter how difficult it was for him to accept the possibility of letting her go.

“Are you sure of your decision?” Esme asked him, walking into his office “Do you really want to just give up like that already?”

“She deserves a long, happy life.” Carlisle spoke softly, grabbing his briefcase with all the reports that he’s brought home “Not be damned for eternity.”

“And if she asks for a long, happy life with you, then what?” Esme asked him, making Carlisle ponder at her question. She was right, what certainty did he have that Celine wouldn’t welcome this life?

‘The risk is too high.’ He thought to himself

He left without answering her question.

It was another late-night shift that Celine accepted. Having heard another alibi from one of her co-nurses. Lying and saying that “they have some important matters to deal with,” only to see them by the bar as she drives by, drunk beyond their capabilities.

‘I have nothing to do anyways, so why not just earn more so I could leave this shitty town.’ She always used that to convince herself

In all honesty, Celine's financial status was not a factor in her decision. She had inherited a comfortable sum from when her parents died, ensuring that she was shielded from any financial struggles. But she’s heard that Doctor Cullen always took a night shift, working perfectly for their family’s set up of needing someone to be at home at all times.

What’s wrong if she was to indulge herself and the tiny crush that she had for him? After all, he wasn't married, a fact his hand had subtly conveyed to her.

“Nurse Celine, good to see you…again.” Carlisle greeted, walking in her office (which technically, is his office too) with a disposable cup of coffee “I thought your shift was over?”

“Yeah, Nurse Alex had to bail, said something along the lines of dealing with some personal stuff.” Celine answered “Made sure to give him the morning shift though, just as some sort of revenge.”

“I do not condone that behavior, but frankly, I would say that you deserve the rest.” Carlisle said, sitting next to her. It was dangerous, he knew. But he didn’t want to leave her alone.

“It’s a slow night.” Celine reported “Just one rush to the E.R. thinking that they were dying because of some spots they saw on their face. After doing some checking on it, it was just some questionably large pimples. Scary? Yes. But not fatal.”

“At least it has been slow so you won’t tire yourself too much.” Carlisle said, pushing the coffee near her

“Why don’t you just say to your sister that you don’t actually enjoy the coffee she makes? It just feels like a waste, giving away your coffee every time.” Celine asked, accepting the cup and drinking it

Carlisle was asked by Celine one time why he wasn’t drinking the coffee that he had, noticing that the cup was left untouched until he throws it away just after his shift. In panic, he fabricated a story, claiming that his sister Esme, who worked night shifts at her own job, often made coffee for herself and would give the extras to him.

He had offered it to her then, hoping that the coffee Esme made because she has missed the aroma of coffee was in Celine’s taste. Celine didn’t answer that time if she had enjoyed the coffee or not, but every time he would offer her the coffee, she would accept it.

This silent acceptance fueled Carlisle's hope that perhaps, in some small way, they were connecting through these shared moments over coffee.

From then, he asked Esme about the recipe and continued to make it from the comfort of his car before he walked in the hospital, using the coffee as a conversation starter, a way to engage with her, hoping to deepen their connection through these small interactions.

“You enjoy it.” Carlisle answered almost immediately. Celine looked at him, her eyebrows furrowed in confusion

“I mean, she always makes it at night for her work. Offers some to me, even though I don’t drink coffee, I’m just too shy to not accept it. And besides, you deserve some coffee yourself too.” Carlisle explained further, giving Celine the satisfaction of getting an answer

“Thanks. I owe you one.” Celine said, lifting the coffee and drinking some more of it “How do you even get the energy to do night shifts? Ever since you got here, you’ve like made it your thing to be the one for night shifts.”

“I sleep in the morning.” Carlisle answered, having prepared an alibi for when that question inevitably gets asked to him “Did kind of take a toll on my social life though, I’ll tell you. But I have accepted this way when I decided to step into the field of medicine.”

“Really?” Celine asked, piqued with how he was opening up “Why prefer night shift then? You could easily be transferred to morning shift if you’d just ask.”

“I prefer it this way.” Carlisle answered, Celine pondered if someone has asked him this question before “Besides, who will give you your daily coffee if I don’t join you with the night shifts?”

“I can get myself coffee, thank you very much.” Celine answered, fake insult in her tone and playfully rolling her eyes at him

“I know you can, I do enjoy it just as much to be the one to give you your coffees.” Carlisle said, a smile on his face

‘He looked like a Ken doll.’ She thought, looking at Carlisle and admiring his seemingly perfect features. His eyes was shining golden, a shade she never thought was possible for a human to have. The pale pink tint of his lips stirred a fleeting curiosity about their softness, though she quickly brushed aside any thoughts of how they might feel against her own.

“Some of the nurses are getting jealous, you should give them coffee sometimes.” Celine teased him. Carlisle looked at her, his eyebrows raised at her teasing. He did not want to give anyone else some sort of affection.

His undead heart was with hers before she even knew it.

“That’s if they’ll like 5 teaspoons of sugar and 3 teaspoons of creamer in their coffee.” Carlisle teased her back, watching as she finishes the coffee that he has prepared

“Well, anything that you would give to them, they’ll accept really.” She answered, before going back to reading some reports that the morning shift nurses has prepared for them

The night was long, the comforting silence joining them as they read through. Fortunately, there were no urgent emergencies demanding their attention. It wasn’t until Carlisle heard Celine stifle a yawn that made him check his watch, the small screen showing 8:17 AM.

“Shift over.” Carlisle announced, standing up and faking a stretch

He could have stayed there forever had she been able to do the same.

“Finally.” Celine mumbled, the aftermath of the coffee finally taking a toll on her as she slumps herself on the seat that she’s been on for the past 12 hours “So tired.”

“Need a ride home?” Carlisle asked, seeing that she wasn’t awake enough to go home on her own

Despite his declaration not to pursue Celine, Carlisle found himself engaging in behaviors that seemed to contradict his words. He couldn't shake the feeling that he was unintentionally leading her on, even though she hadn't explicitly expressed interest in him, neither through her words nor her body language.

“I’m fine, brought my car with me.” Celine murmured; her eyes closed as she rests her head on the chair “Just need a few minutes to close my eyes.”

“Okay then.” Carlisle answered, sitting down on the chair where he was sitting earlier, grabbing a bit more reports to read as he accompanies her

The few minutes became an hour. Then the hour became two hours. Carlisle then slowly realized that Celine was beginning to doze off in the chair she was sitting in. He looked at her with a small smile on his face.

He didn’t need to be a vampire or a doctor to know that she was in an uncomfortable position. Her whole torso was slouched down and her head was down, giving the look that she was uncomfortably bowing.

Carlisle moved his seat closer to hers, feeling the warmth of her arm against the coldness of his. With tender care, he lifted her head, cradling it on his shoulder. Though not as plush as a pillow, he knew it would be far more comfortable than where her head had previously rested.

As he sat there, Carlisle gazed at Celine, closing his eyes and synchronizing his faux breathing with hers, attuned to the steady rhythm of her heartbeat.

Carlisle knew that it was temptation, being this close to her. And a sin to indulge himself in such temptation. But if he was to be damned today, he would be happy to have indulged himself with the existence of Celine.