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twilightsleepjunkie · 2 months

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One Hard Pill to Swallow

Emmett was the most collected of all the Cullen children but he wasn’t calm or collected right now.

“Carlisle–”

Carlisle pressed the phone against his face and stepped out of the Emergency ward, into the hallway. His ears pricked as he listened to her screams in the background. “Is Esme hurt? Emmett, what’s wrong with her?”

“I don’t know,” Emmett spoke through his teeth. “That’s why I called you. Is today special or something?” Emmett could count on one hand the number of times he’d seen her break down. Usually it had something to do with her baby, but Emmett couldn’t think of anything that would have upset her like this.

Carlisle ran through the family calendar in his head, it wasn’t an important day that would set her off like this, it was just a normal Friday. “Where is she?”

“We’re at home, I didn’t want to leave her alone.”

“Stay where you are.” Carlisle demanded, already heading for the locker room, he’d hang up his coat, pass off his patients and be out the door. “I’ll see you in ten-minutes.”

—

Exactly eight-point-five minutes later, Carlisle’s Mercedes screeched to a halt in the driveway, and 2 seconds after that, he was inside the house.

Something was wrong. The unnatural, suffocating silence emitting from the house, set him on edge.

Of the entire family, Emmett was the least likely to need him for anything, ever.

“I can’t get her to come out and I can’t get in without breaking the house.” Emmett pointed towards the staircase. “She got quiet and in this house, that’s never been a good sign. She slowed down as soon as I called you.”

There was always sound coming from Esme’s art room. She played soft classical music on the stereo system while she painted and when she was throwing pottery, 1960s love songs floated through the house. She was never loud, but there was always some level of sound coming from the room.

Then suddenly, there was nothing. No music, No gentle humming. Just silence, deafening and uncomfortable silence. The largest part of her breakdown was over.

Carlisle darted up the three flights of stairs, sliding on his heels when he reached the door to his wife’s art studio. He listened closely, waiting for some indication that she was in there.

“Esme,” Carlisle called her name softly through the antique door and knocked twice before trying the handle. As expected, the glass knob wouldn’t budge. “May I come in?”

He waited for a beat and heard the quiet snick of the lock and the door swung open.

Newspaper clippings were scattered across the hardwood floor, Carlisle had to step around them. He stooped onto the floor and grabbed one, but every headline said the same thing. Small Cemetery on the outskirts of Milwaukee: Land Reallocated’

“Oh no.”

She’d moved to the floor for the extra space to spread out her research. Esme subscribed to all of the newspapers from the various towns the family moved to. It padded the recycling, helping them blend in with the rest of the community.

What she’d found in Wisconsin, broke her. She wanted the floor to open underneath her so she could drop into the hole, allowing the uncertain aching darkness to swallow her whole and she would disappear. She would never have to feel this kind of pain again.

When she finally spoke, “He’s gone.” The hoarse whisper came from the corner of the room. Esme had wedged herself between the corner of her drafting table and the wall. She was hiding and still so afraid to take up too much physical space. Carlisle suddenly remembered the last time he saw her like this. Though it had been nearly 8 decades, the memory burned bright.

A year after her change, on the exact one year anniversary of her son's death Carlisle found her in the small coat closet, knees bent to her chest, dry-sobbing into a pillow so she wouldn’t be heard. Somehow, this was worse. Esme worked to keep the memories of her baby, they were so tightly intertwined with her vile first husband that she couldn’t think of one without the other.

The angular window cast a pathetic ray of sunlight over her head. A broken halo, over his angel.

“Why are you here?”

“Emmett called.” If Carlisle’s heart could still move, it would have lurched into his throat when he saw her like that.

“Carlisle–”

He cut off her argument and dropped down on the wood floor beside her. “You’re not alright.”

Though there were no tears, dark makeup smeared on her face and her hands. The collar of her shirt was torn and shallow pale lines marred her chest where she so clearly aimed to claw out her own heart. Folding himself into the small space with her, he pulled her into his lap and slid his hands over hers, holding them in place so she couldn’t reach for her chest again. With vampire strength, and Esme’s pristine manicure there was a real danger of her hurting herself.

“The city.” She choked out into the side of his neck. Chest heaving, hands shaking against him.

“Shh…” He stroked her back. “I got it, now.” The evidence on the floor was all the information he needed.

“They turned my baby’s grave into a parking lot!” The words tore out of her mouth in an angry hiss. Saying it aloud cemented the fact that her child’s final resting place was gone. She’d outlived her son, twice.

The desecrated grave stood as a tangible reminder that in this semblance of a life, there was no place for fairness. Their never ending existence meant that they would always be the last people standing, while everyone around them died. It was the curse that came with immortality.

Carlisle pressed his wife against his chest, helpless as she convulsed in his arms. Her hands clawed at her chest, screeching like steel on granite.

“Stop trying to hurt yourself.” Carlisle locked her hands in his keeping them still. “Hold me,” he guided her hands to his shoulders and curled her fingers around either end of his scarf.

He held her tight as apologizes and pleas for forgiveness slipped through her sobs as she gasped for air and trembled.

“I left him there-”

Carlisle knew there was no sense in reasoning with her, she didn’t need to be told that staying in Milwaukee would not have helped her son. Esme’s anguish couldn’t be reasoned away, it bubbled up like a pus infected boil needing to be lanced.

“You’re forgiven.” He whispered into her hair, “I promise he forgives you.”

Sitting up slightly he grabbed the handmade quilt from the desk chair and covered her with it. “Jasper.” Carlisle depended on Jasper’s enhanced hearing. “Help me.”

Carlisle kissed her hair, bereft of anything useful to do. All he could do was try to offer comfort. “I’m very sorry,” his words were not hollow, but she couldn’t hear him. Not really. “Both of you deserve better than this.”

After nearly 80 years of marriage, he’d learned that sometimes all he had to do was shut up and hold her. Today was one of those days. The long-buried pain ran bone deep and he had no hope of ever truly alleviating her suffering.

Her voice was frail when she could finally speak again. “My poor baby. I’m sorry.”

Carlisle, for the first time in a century, wished he could drug his wife. As a doctor he would’ve given her a xanax and put her to bed. But she needed this release and drugging her because it broke his heart seeing her so upset, would be selfish.

A minute later, Jasper was in the doorway. “You rang?”

“Can you make it easier on her?” She needed the release, he didn’t want to take it from her completely. “Calm her down gradually?”

“I’ll try.” Jasper sat on the floor in the doorway, concentrating on Esme. A few seconds later, her breathing slowed and she’d stopped shaking.

“Breathe,” Carlisle pressed his palm against her chest, his fingers smoothed over her sternum as her eyes fluttered open. “Nice and slow.”

“He’s gone.” She blew out a breath, the hollow feeling in her chest weighing her down. “For real. He’s completely gone. What am I supposed to do, Carlisle? Leave flowers at a truck stop!”

“We’ll find another way. I promise, we will find a way to remember him.”

“That grave site was supposed to be permanent–suddenly–it’s not. He’s not here anymore and I don’t know how to do this.”

“We’ll just have to find another way…” he insisted, but he couldn’t come up with a solution at the moment. The Cullens rarely stayed anywhere longer than a few years. Who could have foreseen that the little gravesite with the stone placard and concrete angel wouldn’t be around for the next hundred years?

He lifted Esme into his arms, letting her head rest on his shoulder, her breath tickled the side of his neck.“Mind your head, My Dearest,” he gently extracted her from the small space and held her against him, his long legs eating the short distance to their bedroom.

****

“My poor boy,” the whispered words faded into the low light of the bedroom. The plush mattress dipped when Carlisle sat beside her, moving her hair out of her face. One finger ran back and forth against her cheek.

“His poor mother, too.” He kissed her forehead, letting his lips linger there.“I’ll be right back.”

Before she could ask where he was going, Carlisle was at her side with a warm, wet washcloth in hand. Carlisle was no stranger to washing wounds and all he could do was hope that Esme’s would start to heal.

“What are you doing?”

“You have makeup all over your face,” he explained, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear where it had slipped from her ponytail.

“Oh.”

Carlisle washed the makeup from her eyes, he moved down the bridge of her nose and droplets of water drifted down her chin were the closest she would get to real tears.

“Does it even count?” A shy, timid question that Esme didn’t want to hear the answer to.

“Of course he counts.” He moved the cloth down her cheek, ever so gently; slowly chasing the dark streaks of makeup that melted off her face. “You held him in your body, kept him warm, safe and well fed. You loved him because that’s what a mother does.”

“Not well enough.” She choked, still teetering on the verge of emotion. “Not long enough.”

“It’s not your fault.” He didn’t know what happened to her son, but he knew Esme to be certain that she’d had nothing to do with his death.

“It was only three days.” There wasn’t enough time, she didn’t kiss her boy’s face enough times or watch his feet draw up when he slept. She didn’t get to read to him or even take him outside and let him feel the sunlight on his face. It wasn’t enough time, enough life to count herself as his mother.

“Joseph is your little boy. You nurtured him and loved him for as long as you had him, that doesn’t change.” He’d moved to her hands now, tenderly washing between each of her fingers and across her palms.

His hands slipped down her neck, barely grazing the nearly invisible self-inflicted wounds across her chest.

“Let me take a look.”

“It’s fine,” she tried to pull away but his hand on her shoulder held her in place.

“No, Esme.” He turned on the bedside lamp and retrieved his doctor’s bag from beside the bed. “It’s not fine.” He insisted, angling a penlight so the light shone across her chest.

“Carlisle please–”

“Answer the question, please. Does it hurt whilst I touch it?”

“N–” She sucked in a breath when his fingers prodded against her collarbone and down her chest.

“That would be a ‘yes’” He answered his own question, continuing to palpate the area. “Please stop trying to hurt yourself.” There was no question she’d cut herself. A long jagged line stretched across her breastbone, over her unbeating heart.

She didn’t deserve the pain and trauma of her human life. Now, her only tie left to that life was gone.

****

When he was finished and the ruined makeup had been washed away, Carlisle laid down beside Esme, holding her close. Her tangled curls falling across his chest. It was his fault for not keeping up with the gravesite. Carlisle knew he should have made it a priority to take Esme back to Milwaukee. The harrowing arrival of their grandchild and subsequent need to gather every vampire they’d ever had contact with; to confront the Volturi, took priority. Still, he should have made more of an effort to preserve the cemetery. Esme and Joseph did not deserve Carlisle’s negligence.

Mere words of apology couldn’t fix this, she would tell him that it wasn’t his fault. Without another comment, she’d kiss him, comfort him while she was the one in dire need of tenderness, and drop the subject completely. Esme wouldn’t hold a grudge, she didn’t have a mental rolodex of his mistakes filed away for ammunition to use later. She would just forgive him.

Carlisle didn’t want to be forgiven.

“Lay back,” he pressed one hand behind her head, angling her face away from his, giving him a clear look at her chest.

The venom washed up his throat, coating his tongue and he bent forward, sealing her wounds with his kiss.

#carlisle x esme #carlisle x esme fanfic #twilight fanfiction #might put this on a03 later #Test run on tumblr #Do you even want this?#Tell me #I beg of u #On my knees #carlesme #carlisle cullen #esme cullen #esme x carlisle #No beta we die like Prim #Oops wrong fandom #Esme's bad day

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palmofafreezinghand · 7 months

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carlisle & esme circa 1951.

a recreation of this Jantzen swimwear ad.

#carlisle cullen #esme cullen #carlesme #twilight fanart #my art #vampire fashions #this man bought an island and matching swimsuits for their 30th - she bought those little drink umbrellas

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spanishinfluenza · 1 month

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The knife shakes. The air throbs with the blood.

"God, help me."

A Rope In Hand

#carlisle cullen #carlesme #twilight fanfiction #twilight fanart #my Rope Carlisle #do not look at him too hard you will see his weird gerbil mouth #truly idk how he managed to have such a swollen cheek but im past the point of being willing to fix it #this is my baby mannn #he is a cutie i cant lie #and ofc he must be accompanied by a scene from Rope that you wont get for a good while from now #im sorry i keep doing this #whilst not updating #i am also writing Chapter 12 #writing is just a lot more brain intensive than drawing and my teacher training is wiping it all out of me #there is a non bloodied version of this too #should yall want to see him without crazy lighting or blood #he looked less gerbilly before i added the blood #idk what that says about him or gerbils #ugh #Carlisle is so slutty for looking like this #esme is minding her business and the hotty with the merc and the kids is looking at her LIKE THIS #i would not recover #also dont look too hard at the lighting Story and I had to debate which direction it was coming from lol

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esmeinlove · 1 month

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The way Liz looks - is how I feel when I looked at my notifications and saw people interacting with my ideas! 💡 thank you so much. I really appreciate it 🥰🥰 and I see you.

I really want to write the human to vampire FF and do it justice - I am in love. I have visions of it being a novel 😂 so if someone could write it for me that’ll be great xxx

#twilight #esme cullen #carlesme #carlisle cullen #thank you #I’m so pleased someone has read it

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stregoni-benefici · 2 years

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Esme loves to flash her ankles at Carlisle while he works. Even after decades he still giggles and hides his blushing face in embarrassment.

#INDECENT WENCH #hiding his b o n e r too #Esme Cullen #Carlisle Cullen #Carlesme

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ruin-ous · 1 year

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If Carlisle was the soul of our family, then Esme was the heart.

#carlesme #twilight #twilight fancast #crackship #carlisle cullen #esme cullen #chris evans #gemma chan #psd #gifset #eclipse #new moon #breaking dawn #edward cullen #bella cullen #bella swan

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mercurys-shadow · 2 years

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Carlisle @ Esme

#carlesme #Carlisle Cullen #esme Cullen #carlisle x esme #twilight #twilight renaissance

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gisellelx · 5 days

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Having a writing / reposting / ideating kind of day. So my Carlesme stans, your headcanons (and/or leave them in the tags and reblogs!)

#carlisle cullen #esme cullen #carlisle x esme #carlisle and esme #carlesme #headcanon #my polls

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cullenssapphic · 1 year

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you know sometimes it makes me sad that the only reason in breaking dawn carlisle (and esme too) get more screen time is because they wanted his death to be so shocking

#carlisle cullen #esme cullen #carlesme #twilight #sad reality #glad we see more of those underrated hotties #but it’s literally just a tactic #breaking dawn

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light-miracles · 1 year

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Cursed Thoughts. I need a Twilight AU: everything is the same but Esme and Carlisle both have a crush on Charlie Swan.

#Give me my vampire + their cute sheriff throuple #Honestly they need more Swans in that family #And Charlie needs more love #AU in which Charlie gets turned first and Bella is like D:< 'did you turn my dad but not ME'#twilight renaissance #Twilight #twilight renascence #charlie swan #Bella swan #Carlisle cullen #Esme cullen #carlesme

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twilightsleepjunkie · 2 months

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Hard Pill to Swallow pt: 2

They lay there, clinging to each other against the pillows. The darkened room was silent aside from the rain bouncing off the windows from the storm outside.

“I’m sorry–” She was always sorry for getting upset and needing to be comforted. He had given up on telling her that he took his promises seriously. “You really didn’t need to come home–Carlisle- I was being dramatic.” She pulled away from him, “you don’t have to be here. You should be back at work.”

“You’re allowed to be upset over this.” He ran his hand up and down her arm, offering what comfort he could.

“I should apologize to Emmett–”

“Stop.” His hand on her arm slowed her down. “Emmett’s fine and I want to be with you today.” He patted the mattress beside him. “Stay with me.”

Would it help if you talked about him?” He’d heard bits and pieces about her son throughout the years, but she held onto the finer details for herself. Carlisle knew his name and how he died and for many that was plenty of information.

As Esme’s husband and a doctor, he wanted to know everything she had been through that led up to her climbing the cliff that brought her to him.

“There’s not a lot more to tell,” she leaned against his shoulders. Her tone meant, ‘that’s all I’m willing to say on the subject.’

“Fair enough.” He twirled a strand of her hair around his index finger.

“Carlisle?”

“Yes, m’dear?”

“If you could choose, what’s your ‘dad’ name?” She laughed just a little at the thought of her gentle husband wanting to be called something modern and tough-sounding, like ‘Pops.’ Charlie Swan could pass for ‘Pops’ but Carlisle…not so much.

“Hmm…” he had to think about it, Carlisle stroked his chin thoughtfully. “I think it’s sweet when Edward refers to us as his mother and father.”

“For all intents and purposes.” Esme added, definitely mocking Edward and his attempt to be cool for Bella the first time he introduced his family to his girlfriend.

Carlisle chuckled, “the boy lost me on that one, I’ve known, loved and provided for him for over 100 years.”

“How dare he,” Esme agreed with a giggle. Sarcasm rolled off her tongue. “The ingratitude.”

“Thank you.”

“He was just trying to impress Bella,” Esme pointed out.

“By not having parents?” Carlisle’s brow knitted in confusion. “What’s impressive about that? It’s just sad.”

“I never said your son made any sense, only that I knew and understood what he was doing.”

“My son?” Carlisle echoed, aghast with his palm on his chest. He rolled onto his side so they were nose to nose. “He did not learn that from me, I assure you.”

“Please, Carlisle,” Esme rolled her eyes. “All that puritanical guilt he covers himself in, that’s all you. He learned to hate this life because he had a front row seat to every one of your self-deprecating thoughts. He knows you resent it.”

“I don’t hate it,” without vampirism they wouldn’t have their family and who knows what would have happened to their family of misfits. “If anything, I try to create a balance to make up for it.”

“I know that.” They were quiet for a few minutes, content to exist together in a comfortable space. “Everyone knows that you’ve done the best you could with what you had to work with.” She squeezed him, “It’s worked out well for us.”

–

“Esme…” Now it was Carlisle with a question he didn’t want to know the answer to.

“Hmm?”

“In another life…if I had been your husband, first,” he paused in this sudden moment of vulnerability. Carlisle grabbed a goose feather pillow from behind and held it in against his torso. He felt naked. “Esme, do you think you would have wanted a more…” he cleared his throat. “Traditional family with me?” In the back of his mind, Carlisle, sometimes, when he was alone; he wondered if Esme had married him out of proximity. He’d bitten her, the thought of creating his own mate, for the purpose of mating, sickened him. He questioned himself, if he’d simply taken advantage of her circumstances.

Of course, the only other option had been to let this young woman die. She would have passed through the veil, in pain with the idea that no one would miss her. Why else would someone so young throw themselves from a cliff? Carlisle couldn’t let that happen. He’d bitten her, as a stranger. It was only after her transformation, when the blood and bruises healed, that he recognized Esme Platt.

He knew he married her because he loved her and he liked himself better when he was with her. Would she have chosen him, if their circumstances were different?

“Carlisle,” she propped herself up on her elbow to look him in the eyes. Concern trickled into her tone. “Where’s this coming from? Why the sudden nesting? Did you come across another teenager? We talked about that– it’s the 21st century. We both have cell phones, you have to call and tell me these things.”

“No,” he laughed but tried to cover it with his hand.“Nothing like that.”

“Then what is it?”

“Forgive me for wandering too far down memory lane. It’s all so violently unfair. And the whole time you were living through the worst parts of your life…I was off somewhere else. If I’d stayed longer in Ohio things might be different.” Knowing he could have prevented her suffering before it started, ate at him every day for decades. Perhaps they could have been happy the way Edward and Bella were, with children of their own, if he’d just stayed still. “Would you have still picked me?”

“Well, that’s a silly question,” she reached up and squeezed his hand. Loosening his fingers from the pillowcase. He caught her fingers and held them. “I would have 10 babies with you right now if we could.” She continued. “Now could you please put the emotional support pillow on your lap?” There was no reason to sit in the fantasy of a traditional family, the thought hurt and Esme didn’t want to hurt anymore.

“Emotional support pillow,” he echoed and laughed. “Here.”

“You don’t need that thing.” Esme put her head on the pillow. “I’m your emotional support and I won’t be replaced with a pillow,” She grumbled playfully.

“I assure you, your position as my main source of support is completely safe.

“I hope so,” she frowned, sitting up to adjust the pillow, “This isn’t even a good pillow.”

“Are you alright?” Carlisle knew when she was putting on a brave face, usually for his benefit.

She sighed, shoulders sagging. “I want to sleep.” In truth, she longed for the escape from her own thoughts that only happened with sleep. “I want to sleep,” she repeated, throwing her arm across his waist. “And I don’t want to wake up.” If only the myths were true, Esme would give her right arm for a decades-long nap. “Did you ever try sleeping in a coffin?”

Carlisle shrugged, “I haven’t really been tired so I didn’t see the point.”

“We need to lean into the myths more, just to see what happens.” Ever since Renesmee’s birth, it seemed like anything was possible. Since her transformation, Esme never questioned Carlisle when he explained that she wouldn’t sleep again. She’d never tasted food with her new body because he told her she didn’t need it. Esme considered Carlisle to be the expert in vampirism and she never considered anything else; but, Renesmee wasn’t supposed to exist at all. The child defied all of Carlisle’s ideals about this existence.

He shot her an incredulous look, “Esme, are you telling me to buy you a coffin?”

“Of course not.” The idea of laying in a box, being trapped in there… “Absolutely not. But, I do need to go to the hardware store.”

“Want some company?” Carlisle already had the keys to her truck in hand. “We haven’t been to the hardware store in awhile.”

Rosalie’s shrill voice from the living room cut off Esme’s response. “Emmett!” The front door slammed, rattling the windows. Esme paused with her hand on the doorknob to listen to Rose.

“Go help me beat the crap out of my idiot brother. Make him a better father.”

“Uh oh.” Carlisle swung his legs off the bed. “Esme,” he glanced at her, unsure if he should ask. “Please?”

She nodded, albeit, reluctantly. Of course she would remove the child from the room while Carlisle and Emmett handled Rosalie and her sudden hostility towards Edward. “I’ll take the baby.”

—-

“What happened?” Carlisle asked, following Esme down the stairs, to the living room. Rosalie stood in front of the wall of windows, with Renesmee clinging to her.

“Nothing.” Rose hissed, adjusting Renesmee on her hip. “That’s the point.”

“And we’re not blaming Bella at all?” Esme reached for her 3 month old granddaughter, who was the size of a 2 year old, but Rosalie tried her best to keep Renesmee a child for as long as possible.

Renesmee looked up at Rosalie for permission.

“Go ahead,” Rose nodded and went back to the conversation. “Oh I’m blaming her too, but Edward knows better.” Rosalie continued her tirade, “We knew Bella had no sense when she stayed with him.”

“Carlisle,” Esme touched his arm, drawing him away from Rosalie. “Look at her.”

Renesmee’s big brown eyes were glassy and her cheeks were too pink.

“That’s what I mean,” Rosalie tried to pull back her temper in front of Renesmee. “They’ve locked themselves in the bedroom and left her alone. Ness, show Esme and Carlisle what you showed me.”

Renesmee pressed her hand against Esme’s cheek and Esme winced at the temperature. “She’s too warm.”

Renessmee’s thoughts swirled, flashing colors like a television trying to pick up a signal. A vision of a kitchen sink full of dishes, a locked bedroom door and the interior of her dollhouse.

It was enough to get the message across, Edward and Bella had left her alone in the house, while they were busy with each other.

“She’s usually so clear.” Esme pressed her hand against Renessme’s forehead. “Poor thing.”

“I’ll get the Tylenol,” Carlisle turned and kissed Esme on the forehead and let his hand linger against her cheek before heading for the bedroom, where he kept his medical bag. The hand on her cheek was an apology.

“My turn.” Renesmee’s clear, high voice pulled Esme from her thoughts.

“Carlisle.” Renesmee repeated, reaching for him. “My turn.”

“Oh,” he turned around.“You want to come with me?” Carlisle held out his hands and Renesmee went to him. Esme was more than happy to hand her over, of course she loved the child. Edward’s child. Mentally, she had to remind herself that the strange little girl belonged to Edward. She was his literal flesh and blood, that alone should have been enough of a reason for Esme to truly adore her. Except, Renesmee wasn’t a child.

Esme didn’t know what to call her, but Renesmee would never be a baby no matter what Rose did to try and extend Renesmee’s childhood. The fact was, nothing about her was normal, even by vampire standards. But she was innocent and that was enough for Esme to fight to protect her.

She watched when Renesmee laid her hand against Carlisle’s cheek, with her face in his neck.

Carlisle stalled in place, then after a moment, he grinned, amused and pecked her cheek. “I didn’t forget about you.” Her arms wrapped tighter around his neck.

#carlesme #esme cullen #carlisle cullen #carlisle x esme fanfic #twilight fanfiction #Should I put this on A03 #do you want more?#IDK what the fandom wants #self conscious

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palmofafreezinghand · 9 months

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Sweet Little Romantic Gestures ask:

I am never not here for your Carlesme bickering; it's the best. Pls to drop some, I am working on a Sunday. :(

thank you @gisellelx ! so sorry you had to work on sunday here's a little bickering (over baseball) for ya!

April 1921:

Edward and Carlisle had been thrilled to introduce Esme to baseball. They were significantly less thrilled once they finally got a bat in her hands and realized she was horrible.

“You might want to try to hit the ball,” Carlisle suggested light-heartedly, as Esme swung three seconds too late, for the umpteenth time. It seemed with each swing her aim somehow got worse.

She turned on her heel, bat still positioned to swing, with a cutting glare. “You don’t say?” She asked sardonically. “I thought the objective of the game was to stand here and let it fly right past me.”

“That… that was you attemp-”

“Yes.”

“You’re doing a great job,” he lied, with an unconvincing grin.

She pressed her lips together, yet the corner of her mouth twitched, betraying her true emotions. His smile in return was genuine. She turned back to face the makeshift pitcher's mound — in an effort to maintain her feigned annoyance — where Edward was failing to stifle his own laughter.

“See, Edward thinks I’m humorous,” Carlisle said, watching Edward retrive yet another ball from their dwindling basket.

“No, no. I find Esme amusing.”

She glanced over her shoulder with a smile that “I was simply thinking your head must be big enough I would be physically unable to miss it.”

“I am sure you would find a way,” Carlisle laughed.

“You are awful.”

“At baseball? I believe that's you, Ms. Platt.”

“Why don’t you try it then?” She thrust the bat into his chest.

“I know how to play,” he smirked. Nevertheless, he did as he was told, stepping up to the irregular pentagon they had drawn in the dirt to serve as home base. Edward threw a two-seam fastball, Carlisle predictably hit it into the tree-line. He paused before starting to run, handing the bat to Esme, rather than throwing it as he typically would. He ran a complete circuit with ease while Edward hunted for the ball, for the fun of it and to prove a point, needlessly sliding into home base.

“Show off,” Esme muttered right as Edward ran back into view, two seconds too late.

“Would you like to try again?” Carlisle asked, tapping the imaginary plate with his foot.

“I suppose,” Esme sighed theatrically.

“Why don’t you help her?” Edward offered as he walked back to his place. Their gazes snapped from each other to him, matching looks of horror.

‘You are not as charming as you believe you are,’ Carlisle thought pointedly. Edward knew quite well the objections Carlisle had to touching Esme, or rather his lack of objection which terrified him into objecting.

“A hands-on demonstration might be helpful,” Edward continued with that irritating lopsided smirk.

Esme glanced up at Carlisle, the previous annoyance and confidence drained from her. “If you think it would be helpful,” she said tentatively.

“It could not possibly hurt your performance,” Carlisle smiled.

She rolled her eyes, raising the bat, once again, he hesitantly stepped behind her, his hands hovering over hers. “May I?” He asked quietly.

She nodded, eyes focused forward. He ignored the fact she had ceased her unnecessary breathing for some reason, surely not the same reason he had. Ignored the smell of honeysuckle and vanilla, how well they fit together, how she was seemingly, impossibly, warm. Things he was not supposed to think about a woman he stole from a morgue, a grieving mother, his friend.

He wrapped his hands around hers, and nodded towards Edward.

Edward threw a straight forward pitch, Carlisle – and Esme – swung and hit the ball into the outfield. Applause came from the pitcher’s mound as Edward jogged to retrieve the ball.

Esme turned slightly in Carlisle’s arms — he ignored how this pushed her further into his chest — her hands still entrapped by his, but she made no moves to break the embrace.

“We did it,” she laughed, her left dimple shining, nose scrunching.

“You did!”

“I see why you enjoy this now. That was thrilling.”

“I told you could do it.”

“You did nothing of the sort!” She leaned into him as she laughed, it was a mindless motion, one he was trying and desperately failing to pay no mind.

“I…” he started to speak before he could think of a witty retort, his mind preoccupied. “I… I thought I did?”

She blew air out her nose, shaking her head fondly.

Before she could respond, Edward cleared his throat. “Want to try again?”

Esme nodded enthusiastically. Carlisle reluctantly let go of her hands, taking a step backwards.

Her shoulders slumped slightly, turning back to him. “Would you mind helping me one more time?” She asked, timidly, quickly adding, “just to ensure I truly have it.”

“Of course,” he beamed, too eagerly stepping back into his place.

He “helped” for far more than one more attempt, neither of them objected.

send a gesture & pairing for a ficlet!

#carlisle cullen #esme cullen #edward cullen #esme platt #carlesme #twilight fanfiction #my stories #writing prompts #haven't written them teasing each other since like march so i'm a little rusty but also didn't realize how much i missed this

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spanishinfluenza · 1 year

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Can you recommend some good twilight fanfiction?

Boy CAN I?!

So for some Carlesme goodness which is sorta my cuppa Lyon's tea, ive written a few which you can find on my ao3 account here. There will be more to come to which i always post here if you're ever curious.

Some other fics holding up this standom:

Ties of Trauma - the love of my life @youareonlyastory (au Carlesme fic with juice to make you squeal into a pillow. Check out all her works they're honestly golden)

For Appearance's Sake - @palmofafreezinghand (gorgeous canon fic, please check out of all of their oneshots they're to die for, one of my all time fave writers)

This New Life - @carllisle (another canon compliant Carlesme fic, but Ellie died and went to lotr heaven so dont go harrassing for more fics, or do idk she might love it. Specialises in well written Carlesme smut.)

Cullanos - more goodness by Ellie only this time it's au and it's unhinged and sexy as hell

@stregoni-benefici has some delectable Carlesme fanfic on their blog, feel free to check out her tags!

We've also got some cult classics like Stained Glass (canon fic) and it's companion pieces, as well as @fiddlesolo 's fanfic tag, full of Carlesme goodness and glorious oneshots.

As for non-Carlesme twilight fic, theres a plethora but i'm not as familiar. Honestly, @jessicanjpa or @panlight be better suited to give you honest recommendations for other pairings!

Hope this helped! :)

#anon #ask #twilight fanfiction #theres an anon out there absolutely desperate for fics and I cant blame them for that #unfortunately the Carlesme standom is small #full of astounding writers tho!#my best piece of advice for you is finding one writer and checking out their comments #chances are the people reading these fics and commenting are the people also writing other fics #also theres like 7 of us Carlesme tumblrinas and we're all besties snapping for each other at a slam poetry night #carlesme #id also recommend to go into my gifts on ao3 and see what ive been gifted bc hint hint its all Carlesme #and theres one specific gift in there from my beloved Story #about a mankini #and you need to read it bc its fucking hilarious #legitimately love that girl

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esmeinlove · 1 month

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I have another idea I can’t stop thinking about

Carlisle and Esme are both human, married and in love (obs). After 4 years of trying for a baby they fall pregnant and are so desperately overjoyed. But 2 weeks later Carlisle ends up being attacked on the way home from work. He stops to assist a broken down car. However when he approaches approached the car he disturbs a vampire who was feeding on the driver. Carlisle tries to run but is bitten waking up three days later alone and thirsty….

All he can think about is Esme and his thirst. The two go hand in hand. He wants to get back to her but every time he moves closer to civilisation he wants to feed on human blood, so he retreats back into the forest, disgusted with himself. He was a doctor in his previous life, wanting to help people and how he was the opposite.

Esme is obviously beside herself. She is frantically looking for him. A search party, posters, missing people charities contacted, but nothing. No trace. How can this happen to her? They were so happy after such a hard time in their lives. She whispers to her baby every night that she will never give up looking for him.

Carlisle works with his thirst, desperate to get back to Esme - finds he can survive on animal blood. Finally, just as Esme is reaching the end of her pregnancy Carlisle is able to reach the woods that border his old house. He can smell her. Oh, how wonderful she smells. It’s overpowering and draws him in closer, he finally sees her through the kitchen window washing the dishes. He moves closer, it’s dark, she can’t see out to the dark grass. She dries her hands and walks across the kitchen past the glass doors. Carlisle sees her. He drops to her knees and sobs. The swell of her pregnant belly is too much for him, the way she touches her rounded stomach and talks to the baby. It’s all he’s ever wanted and it was taken away from him.

He can hear two heartbeats. He can sense the extra blood, his lips begin to pull back across his sharp teeth. The growl pulls him back and he runs away. He despises himself. He wanted to bite her, consume her, drink her blood.

He now visits every night, sitting in the trees far enough away so he’s of no danger. He watches over her and his baby that is safe inside her body.

One night, after hunting, he goes back and she’s not there. He panics. He can smell amniotic fluid. The baby, she must be in labour.

He follows the scent as best he could and heads for the hospital, but it’s too much. He can’t get closer. The bloodlust. The fear someone would see him. So he goes back to their old house, to the safety of the woods. After a day - he’s curious. Is the key still under the chicken flowerpot by the front door… it is… he lets himself in.

He consumes her scent. He wraps himself in her blankets, her clothes, their bed. His heart aches greater than it ever has before. Nothing has changed. His belongings are still in the house, his running shoes were still by the front door. Like she was expecting him to come back. His throat burns but he could put that aside for her.

For them.

She returns 5 days later. He retreats to the forest. She is alone. She’s quiet, her eyes are hollow sat upon dark circles. Her skin pale. The life and love deserted her. She’s forlorn. Her shoulders are slumped, she shuffles her feet, looking at the ground. Esme’s good friend brings her in and settles her into bed… they hardly say anything to each other. Esme can’t make eye contact. She sobs quietly into her pillow.

Carlisle hurts for her. What happened? The fire in his throat is present he can smell her bleeding from down below, and its like a hot iron piercing through his soul. It would have consumed him and made him tear into the house if he wasn’t so concerned for her.

Carlisle wonders where is the baby? What has happened, what has gone so wrong? Esme’s friend goes downstairs and makes a call to her husband. Carlisle can hear every word as he’s so close to the house now. Esme’s sobs are pulling him apart. He wants to comfort her and he’s so close but he needs to her what her friend says on the phone.

‘I’m back at Esme’s. I’ve just tucked her in bed’

‘Oh babe, poor girl. How is she?’ A male voice came from the small phone.

‘She’s bad’ a pause. ‘I can’t believe this happened. It’s just so tragic. First Carlisle, now their precious baby boy. She doesn’t deserve this’

Carlisle felt as though the world had shattered around him. He had a son. But what had happened? He couldn’t stay away any longer. Esme needed him.

He climbs in through their bedroom window. She barely lifts her head to acknowledge him. Her face is tear stained and eyes are blank. She catatonic. He has to hold his breath but pushes the fire down. Her emotional needs were far greater than the pain in his throat. He calls softly to her. She doesn’t register.

He sits on the edge of the bed. His cold hand reaches out to take her hand. He has to loosen her fingers that are gripping the sheets tightly.

‘Esme’ he tried again.

She slowly turns her face to his and whispers ‘You’ve come back’

‘Oh, darling. I’m so sorry, my love’ he watched the silent tears roll down her face as he spoke.

‘Take good care of him’ Esme was so far into grief, she assumes Carlisle has come from the afterlife to comfort her. She doesn’t realise he’s with her, that he’s really there. He sat with her until he heard the friend come back up the stairs.

He goes to hunt - to quench the fire that burns his soul. The grief of losing a son, Esme’s grief fuelling his body to run further to smash through trees to be careless. After he drained his third bear he fell into the fur and cried. Tearless sobs echoed across the valley as the rain poured down.

He went back 2 days later. She was gone. The police were there. He heard that she had left in the middle of the night. Carlisle closed his eyes and followed her scent. The rain dampened it but with her fresh bleeding after birth he could track her through the woods. He ran as if his life depended on it.

He finds her at the edge of a cliff, that overlooked the valley in the forest. A favourite picnic spot of theirs from happier times. Her hair whipping around her face blowing her scent into the wind. She stepped closer to the edge… turned around, looked at him in the eyes as he shouted

‘Esme!’ His arms reaching out for her, his fingertips stretching to their limits.

He heard her whisper as she fell backwards over the edge ‘I’m coming Carlisle’. He watched her fall and then he jumped.

He heard the impact of her soft body hitting the ground and she didn’t scream. He landed next to her. Scooping her up screaming ‘no, no, no’ thoughts screaming round his head - what could he do. Her breathing was uneven, her heart was fading, she was so close to death. He needed to save her.

His fingers held her broken body close to his, his face buried in her hair, close to the skin of her neck. He could feel the flutter of her pulse. His teeth were so close to her skin. He thought of the crescent moon scars that were on his neck… on his wrists as he leant into her.

Following some unknown instinct he bite into her skin, her blood filling his mouth. He groaned as he stopped himself from swallowing the delicious blood that spilled from her body. He bit again on the other side, her wrists and her chest near her heart. He held her close as she screamed for three days. Trying desperately to muffle the sounds of her pain. Burying themselves deeper into a nearby crack in the cliff.

He hated himself for putting her through it. He couldn’t bear to continue to cause her pain, but when her visible injuries began to heal and her heart stopped beating he knew it had worked. He continued to hold her as her red eyes flicked open and fell upon his.

‘Carlisle?’ She whispered. ‘Heaven’

‘My love. I’m here’

#esme cullen #carlisle cullen #carlesme #twilight #carlisle x esme #fanfiction #the cullens #I really need to complete my dissertation but yet here I am hashing out a plot to a fanfic #this will have to do for now

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