#carlisle cullen one shot | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ur-urmom · 1 year

Note

I just read your first work for Carlisle and I absolutely loved it!!! 😭❤️👌🏽 Maybe... could you write a second part? It's okay if you don't though!! I can't wait to read more of your works and I feel honoured to have found your blog! ❤️❤️❤️

ahhhh you’re so sweet thank you!! I am so glad to hear you liked it! I’m more than happy to write a second part, the first part is my most liked fic so it’s only right :D

I also did not know that Carlisle’s physical age is 23, but for the sake of this story we’ll say his physical age is like 30 or something 😭

——————

Okay, That Hurt - Pt. 2 - Carlisle x Reader

(Part 1)

Genre - cute fluff stuff, possibly implied spice (not smut)

Warnings - cussing, age gap, implied spicy time

Summary - after the little accident with the demonic stairs, it’s about time Y/N get their cast off. However, that means the same certain doctor will be there to help with that, and he’s determined to see Y/N again, but this time somewhere outside of the hospital without a broken bone or any other injury.

Today is the day, people! Today is the day!

Not only do I finally get my cast off on this fine afternoon, but I get to see Dr. Carlisle Cullen once more. Oh, how my heart has been swooning over him since I left the hospital that first time! Sure it was only about a month and a half ago, but damn have I been utterly tempted to just ‘accidentally’ fracture my ankle, or maybe slip on those same demonic stairs again… definitely not on purpose though.

I feel like a high school student again, one that has a stupid, innocent crush on their teacher that they know nothing will ever come out of it. But, still, it’s fun to remember how a little infatuation feels.

It’s been too long since I’ve had someone — well, someone who’s actually real and not fictional — make me all giddy and giggly and shit. I think about him and start twirling my hair, kicking my feet, and biting my lip with a turn of excitement in the pit of my belly.

Do I know that nothing is gonna happen? Yes. Yes I do.

Am I still gonna pretend like that man is gonna be my future husband? Yes. Yes I am.

I was putting on my shoes when I took a quick look at the time. It was one o’clock. I still had another hour before I needed to be at the hospital. I wanted to try and pass the time so I wouldn’t be on the verge of throwing up from how nervous I was from seeing Dr. Cullen again. It’s all fun and games until you actually have to be next to the object of your affection in person.

“Let’s go bother Bella.” I whispered to myself while I got up from my seat and began putting on my coat by the entrance. Turning the knob, I walked out and closed the door behind me. I glanced at the cars in her driveway. Her truck was there, but another car that I didn’t recognize was too. “Edward.” I finally decided that’s who it was. It couldn’t be Charlie, he was at work.

I did end up meeting Edward a while ago, he’s a good guy, maybe a tad bit eccentric, but Bella really likes him so I guess I do as well.

I really like his dad, that’s for sure.

Making my way to the steps, I came to an abrupt stop as I remembered my previous accident with them. Inspecting the stairs for any unseen slippery ice, I had come to the conclusion that it should be safe.

“Yeah… fuck you.” I flipped off the step in particular that had tried to kill me. My feet made contact with the ground, and I let out a small breath of relief that I didn’t even know I was holding. Crossing my yard into Bella’s, I went to her front door and knocked with my good arm a couple of times. I waited a few with no answer, so I decided to repeat my actions. On my third knock, the door opened and Bella stood in front of me. I gave her a smile and a wave, and my eyes glanced past her to Edward. I saw that his hair was kind of a mess, and when I looked back at Bella, I noticed her shirt’s top buttons were undone.

My eyebrows raised a little, and my mouth formed an O shape before I started giggling like a little kid.

“I’m sorry, am I interrupting something?” My smile only grew bigger.

Bella’s eyes looked everywhere but me, her hand running through her hair and she kept it on the back of her head as she stuttered out, “N-no, no not at all. Come in.” She bit her lip as she stepped to the side for me to walk through.

I did, looking at Edward and the tiny grin on his features.

“You might have interrupted a little something.” He spoke, his gaze not leaving his flustered girlfriend, to which she gave him a very noticeable glare, almost as if telling him to shut up with her eyes.

“Aw darn it, my bad guys!” I apologized again. “I just wanted to pop in and say hello before I went to my appointment to get this son of a bitch off.” Pointing to my cast, I kept talking. “But I promise I’ll leave soon so you two can get back to your foreplay.”

My words only made Bella even more shy, but I did get a chuckle from Edward before he spoke up.

“Oh yeah, my dad can’t wait to see how it’s healed.”

All jokes about the happy couple immediately left my mind as images of Carlisle replaced them. I felt my face heat up at the thought of him somehow looking forward to our — professional — meeting today.

“Ah… what, he’s asked about me?” I tried to play off my butterflies.

“Every time Bella comes over.”

I looked at her, and she was nodding her head in agreement with her hands in her pant’s front pockets.

“…Which is all the time.” Edward finished.

I lightly coughed, trailing my finger along a dusted item to do anything with my hands except fiddle with them.

“Hm, good to know he cares about his patients.” I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from grinning ear to ear. “Makes me feel more comfortable in his care.”

“I don’t think it’s just that.” The pale boy voiced.

“Yeah, like… you’re the only patient he’s asked about so frequently like this… or ever.” Bella awkwardly stated.

I blinked.

“C’mon guys, it’s only because you two know me. He’s only being courteous, yeah?”

“No, I don’t think so.” She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “I mean, do you know how many times Mike has hurt himself? We know him and Carlisle never asks about his injuries.”

“…Maybe he’s not very fond of Mike?” I was more so asking myself that in order to keep my composure. Sure, the idea of Carlisle actually being interested in me is absolutely exhilarating… however it’s quite terrifying in reality.

An older man who is the town’s favorite doctor and has kids that are very close to the age of my own? Given they’re adopted, but still.

How would society — the community — react to that?

Innocent flirting is always fun, but when there’s actual intentions behind it? I might need to rethink my feelings.

When neither of them answered, I took that as my sign to go ahead and get to the hospital and have this over with as quickly as I can.

“Alright, well, I’ve gotta get going, but I’ll let you guys know how it goes and what the verdict is.” I smiled. I gave Bella a small hug and waved bye to Edward before I saw myself out.

The chilly air hit my face like a brick, and I took a deep breath as I rubbed my hands together in an attempt to get them warm. I had grabbed my keys before I went next door, so I just walked to my car and got in. Starting it, I kept thinking about what they said about Carlisle. Needless to say, I’m about a hundred times more anxious than I was before, but I’m just gonna blame the coffee I had earlier for the upset stomach I was beginning to get.

My mind was racing as I drove to the hospital. I’m not gonna lie, I was driving like five miles below the speed limit. I was gonna be a little early anyway, so it’s okay. The fact that I was so excited to see his angelic face again when I thought there was no chance he would like me, but now that I know there might be a possible chance that he does I am dreading this interaction.

I can’t get too hopeful. Maybe he really is just a caring doctor who just so happens to be asking about me a lot more than his other patients. Yeah, that’s it.

When I pulled into the parking lot, I must have sat there for a good three minutes before finally getting out.

“Okie dokie. Let’s get this thing off… that’s what I’m here for… nothing else.”

I stepped inside and made my way to the front desk to a woman sitting behind the counter.

“Uh, hi! I have an appointment with Dr. Cullen for removing my cast.”

“Name please.” The woman didn’t even look at me.

“…Y/N L/N.”

“Have a seat and someone will call you to the back when it’s time.” Not even a glance my way.

“Um. Okay.”

I did as told and sat in one of the chairs, ignoring the fact that the lady could’ve been a little nicer or something, she could’ve at least made eye contact with me… but no need to dwell on that. If people wanna be negative there’s nothing I can do about it.

I heard the doors to the back open, and when I looked up I saw a nurse come out.

“L/N?”

Shit shit shit shit.

“Yup!” I got up.

“How are you today?” She asked, a smile on her face. Much different from the woman at the front.

“I’m good! I’ll be a lot better once this thing is off.”

“Oh, I bet! You’ll be walking out of here with a brand new arm!” She laughed. I followed her to the back and she had me sit down on the edge of one of the beds. “Alright, well Dr. Cullen will be with you in a moment.” And with that she was on her way.

All I could do is wait in anticipation now.

It’ll be a quick process, there’s nothing to worry about. Hell, maybe I’ll even throw in another wink when I leave like the last time.

Honestly? Maybe I’ll shoot my shot! There’s nothing to lose, and the age gap isn’t even that big…

I don’t think, anyway.

The curtain to my section was pulled shut, so when the light sound of footsteps could be heard getting closer to me I couldn’t help but adjust how I was sitting. I straightened my posture and fixed my hair even though it didn’t need fixing. I was expecting the curtain to open and Carlisle in all of his glory to step in with his pearly whites showing and that glint in his eyes, but when the footsteps got close enough to enter, they turned a corner and faded out.

I slouched back down in disappointment and relief. That was until the curtains suddenly got pulled back at the speed of fucking light. I jumped up, startled and a small gasp escaping my lips.

And of fucking course it was the one and only Carlisle Cullen.

“Fucking hell, fuck me— god damn you scared me!” I muttered the first part, my heart pounding and my blood rushing. He let out a hearty laugh, closing the hanging fabric again.

“Sure, if you’d like.” The words absentmindedly left his mouth. I was confused at first, until I had realized what he was replying to. The blood that was rushing from a sudden fright was now rushing due to his flustering response. He turned around to face me now, and he was just as gorgeous if not more than the last time I saw him. “How have you been?”

"Oh... um, I've been okay! Getting by as well as I can with this stupid thing." I said, lifting up the wrist I idiotically broke. "Hopefully the doc has some good news for me though."

"The doc is about to have a look..." Carlisle's features changed from amusement to concentration as his gaze traveled across my face, making his way down to what I thought would be my cast, but his attention passed my injury and kept lowering... and lowering... until he finally started to go upwards again.

Is it just me or is it getting hot in here? I felt the heat rise to my chest, neck, ears, literally everywhere as his eyes scaled my entire being. It felt like he was checking me out, not looking me over. Either way, it's getting a little hard to breathe.

"You look great... healthy."

Yeah, obviously. I only had a small concussion, a few scrapes on my arm, and this dumb ass fragile bone that snapped.

He has to be doing this on purpose.

"Thank y—...ou." My breathing completed haltered, my words coming to a stop followed by an embarrassing linger when his hand gently grasped my jaw, his thumb on my chin as he tilted my head side to side.

His touch was still as cold as I remembered, a strange yet comforting feeling.

Just as I thought he was done, his free hand found my forehead, his fingers brushing away the hair that rested there and his face getting closer to mine... to get a better look I'd assume.

I could feel his breath on my cheek, and I was wondering if he could hear how fast my heart was beating. When he finally backed away, a tiny cough that I couldn't hold escaped. God, I hope he doesn't ask why my face is so red, because the way I was feeling right now It couldn't be anything but.

His gaze held my own for a few seconds before he spoke.

"Well, it looks like your concussion is gone."

…Yeah, I figured.

"Now, let's get this ugly bastard off shall we?" Carlisle pulled up the rolling seat right in front of me and a cart with everything he needed was sat beside us in his reach. Without warning, he took ahold of my covered arm and adjusted it to his liking, propping it on the empty space on the top of the cart. He grabbed the saw tool that looked like it was meant to be a torture weapon in a horror movie and held it up. Looking at me with a sweet smile, he said, "Don't worry, the worst you'll feel is a tickle."

I nodded to tell him I understood, and he turned it on. He started cutting, and he was definitely right. I couldn't help the small giggles leaving my lips as the vibrations from the cast saw tickled my entire arm. Dr. Cullen grinned at my laughs, still concentrating on removing the plaster. Once he was done, he slowly removed it. I saw the inside and immediately cringed.

"That is so gross..." I muttered.

"I've seen worse." Carlisle stated. "Trust me... you've done pretty good taking care of it!" His cold touch gently held my wrist up and he started moving it. It felt weird, I knew it was just because I hadn't moved it in a while, but at least there was no pain. "There we go, back to normal!"

I slowly took over, and after inspecting it I had come to the conclusion that everything was fine.

"Yeah... I guess you're right." I jokingly tried to question his experience.

"You guess? I have a degree."

"Oh do you?"

It was silent for a few seconds, our eyes never breaking contact before the two of us broke out into a fit of laughs and chuckles. Our excitement died down, and I jumped up now that it was over with.

"Thank you, Carlisle! I'll try not to break any more bones for you." I grinned at him. He mimicked my features. Sadly, I was about to wish him a farewell, that is until he spoke before I got the chance to.

"There's something else you could do for me too, if you don't mind."

My brows raised just the slightest bit in curiosity.

"What's that?" I asked, expecting him to tell me to wrap myself in bubble wrap, or tell Bella he says hi, but both of those guesses were farther than far off.

"Go out with me?... Tonight?"

Oh, wow.

"I get off in a few hours, I'll pick you up. 6:30?" He continued, a hopeful glint in those beautiful fucking eyes of his.

"Um..." I started. My mind was jolting forward to things people might say, how they would view this, what would actually come out of this. So many things that I didn't need to worry about kept jumbling around in my head. But that's what they were, things I didn't need to worry about. "Yeah. Yeah!" My hesitancy dissipating as I realized the opportunity I had here. "Let me give you my address." I was beaming.

Carlisle's face lit up even more than mine. "No need! I know where Bella lives, so I know where you live."

Oh yeah, forgot about that.

I bit my lip in a silly attempt to stop smiling any wider than I already was before he had to stitch my mouth back to normal.

"Perfect!... I'll see you at 6:30, doc." I giddily waved goodbye as I exited the curtained room. I didn't give him a chance to say anything else, mainly because if I stayed there any longer I thought I would drop dead from excitement, anxiety, and how hot he was. At least there would have been a doctor in the room.

I guess Bella and Edward were right to think he might have liked me as more than a patient, but now I have to figure out what the heck I’m gonna wear tonight.

When I left the hospital and got inside of my car, I let out an ecstatic scream. As soon as I get home I have to tell Bella, and I was hoping Edward would be gone by now. I think it would be a little awkward having me excitedly ramble on about how Carlisle and I are going on a date when his son would be in the same room listening to how his dad asked me out.

Adoptive dad, but like I said, still.

Leaving the parking lot, I practically floored it back to the house. As I was pulling into my drive, I noticed both of the cars that were in front of Bella’s place were gone.

“They both left? In separate cars?” I was confused as hell, but who am I to question these things. Edward was a strange man… and so was his family, but I’m literally going on a date with his father so I can’t say anything. Maybe I can pinpoint just what makes them so… well, unique, tonight.

Before I got out of the vehicle, I looked at the time. A little after three. Okay, I have a bit over three hours to get ready, that’s plenty of time. Though, I do need to be ready earlier just in case, so maybe I have about two hours and a half.

I rushed inside of the house, slamming the door shut behind me and speed walking my way to the bathroom while simultaneously taking off pieces of my clothing so I could take a shower now that my cast was off. I tossed them on the floor as I went along, I'll pick them up later.

What if he wants to come inside afterwards... or before? I also have to clean and make sure everything looks nice in here too, because that is a possibility.

Oh god... what if...

What if he wants to come inside, if you catch my drift.

Whatever, we'll cross that bridge when we get there.

If we get there.

Once again, my mind was going over a billion scenarios that could happen tonight. I definitely wasn't doing any favors by easing my anxiety.

Before I knew it, time flew by and the last thing I needed to do was pick an outfit. I had straightened up my place enough to where it would look good but not like I was doing too much. My hair was nice, and I touched up any blemishes that might could be seen. Now, the wow factor. The clothes.

I needed to figure out whether I was going for more casual, fancy, comfy, or something else. I could do a mixture? I'm not sure what to expect from this, where we're going and all of that.

That's why I settled for something casual, but a nice casual, so it would be alright for any occasion that wasn't the red carpet or an award winning program.

By the time I got done, it was seventeen minutes before 6:30. To say I was nervous was an understatement, but I was excited too. I was practically walking around in circles pacing all over the place waiting for a knock on the door or the bell to ring. I didn't wanna sit down because I would could wrinkle my outfit, and the moment I sat down would probably be the moment he arrived. I walked to the kitchen and fixed myself a glass of ice water to help ease my nerves. The chill ran down my throat to my spine, and I let out deep breathe through my nose. I stared at the rim of the glass and the ice floating around in the water before taking another sip.

When I did that, the sound of a few thumps from the door came and I jumped. The water I was swallowing in the process shifted the wrong way, and I was met with a fit of coughs from the sudden startle. I was trying to hold them in, and I took another quick sip to chase it.

I'm just glad Carlisle didn't have some kind super hearing to understand what just happened to me from across the threshold, how embarrassing would that be if he heard?

I jogged to the door and stood there for a few seconds to regain any composure I had lost. With a little pat on the back, I opened it.

Carlisle stood on the other side with a smile on his face and one hand behind his back. I hadn't seen him in anything but his scrubs and coat before, so when I saw him dressed in a button down and slacks I couldn't help but stare.

"You look good too." He spoke, breaking me from my trance.

"Oh, gosh, I'm sorry! I didn't mean to-"

"No need to apologize! Why wouldn't I want to get ogled by someone as beautiful as you?" He pulled his hand out from behind his back to reveal a spectacular bouquet of flowers. "They reminded me of you." He handed them to me with my mouth dropped in surprise.

Talk about old fashioned romance. I'm drooling for this man.

I sniffed them, and of course they smelled absolutely delightful.

"Thank you, Carlisle! They're gorgeous!" I beamed, trying to identify what kind each flower was since it was an assorted bouquet. He pointed to one that was drooping, the only one that was drooping for a matter of fact.

"I got this one specifically, because it had the stooping flower. I thought it could represent your broken wrist."

That drew out a hearty chortle from me.

"I love them, thank you!" I went back inside and left the door open to put these in a vase before we left. "You're welcome to come inside if you'd like, but I'll just be a jiffy!"

He decided to wait right there as I continued to situate the flowers. When I was done, I put them on the kitchen table and hurried back to him. I stepped outside and closed the door behind me, locking it.

"So what do you have planned, doc?" We walked to his car parked on he side of the road in front of the driveway.

"Come on now, what fun is it if I tell you?" He picked up his pace to open the passenger side door for me. I giggled, thanking him in the process.

"Such a gentleman." I said, getting in the seat. I looked at him as I grabbed the seatbelt. He had one hand on the top of the door and the other holding himself up on the side of the car. Then, he winked at me as he pushed it shut. I watched as he walked around the car to the drivers side and got in. "And I thought chivalry was dead."

"...In a way." He muttered, but I couldn't tell what he said.

"Huh?"

"Nothing." He smiled at me as he started the ignition and drove. I didn't think anything of it.

"I'm really excited for tonight, ya know." I spoke. "If I'm being honest, I've had a small crush on you since you put my cast on."

"I know." Carlisle glanced at me and grinned.

"Wait, what? How?"

"Just had a feeling." He replied. "And I'm glad I was right, because I've had a big crush on you ever since I put your cast on."

I knew we were going on a date right now, and he's the one who asked me out, but hearing him say that he's liked me the same time I've liked him is just mind boggling to me. We talked for a bit more before we made it into downtown, and he parked.

"Okay, it's a downtown date?" I looked around from the window. There were tea lights in the trees which lit up the night sky, it was a really pretty sight, one of the reasons I loved going downtown at this time.

"I hope that's okay, I'd love to spoil you tonight. Every night, if you'd let me."

Swoon.

Carlisle didn't give me a chance to answer, he exited the car and went to my side to let me out. He held out his hand once he opened the door, and I took it immediately.

"If this is how you treat your potential lovers, I don't think I'll ever want to leave your side." I joked. He gently pulled to help me stand, and when I stood up from getting out, the proximity of our bodies were a lot closer than I had anticipated.

"That's the plan." He whispered, but we were so close I heard it loud and clear. Our eyes met, and I looked for anything that indicated any sort of distrust in his gaze, but all I saw was longing and affection. I felt myself starting to get flustered, so I broke contact and stepped back, thankful that the air was chilly enough to cool down any heat I started to feel from him.

"Where should we go first?" I changed the subject, looking at all of the different shops in both directions. Stepping on the sidewalk, Carlisle followed me.

"Wherever you want to go." He suggested.

"Well I don't want to go into a store that you'd rather not go in." I started, but in response he started to laugh.

"Thank you, but if you're happy, I'm happy. Wherever you'd like to go, I'd like to go."

"...You're too sweet." I looked at him. Without asking, I took his arm in mine and held it with my hands while I guided him down the walkway. "What about the bookstore first?"

"That sounds lovely."

We entered the shop, and the atmosphere was cozy and warm. There were chairs at the front to sit and read, the lights glowed an amber hue, and the smell was a nice mixture of oakwood and new and old books alike. The man at the counter greeted us, to which we waved and smiled back. I walked to my favorite section with Carlisle beside me and started browsing.

"What's your favorite genre?" I asked, stopping my search to turn my attention to him.

"I'm fond of historical nonfiction."

"Oh, really? I would have assumed medical books are your forte... like stuff on anatomy. Or maybe romance."

"Why would I read about anatomy when I could study yours?"

I was not expecting those words to leave his mouth. My brows raised in shock and I quickly turned my face back to the stories I was looking at so he wouldn't see the intense blush starting to show. I wasn't quite sure what to say, until one book caught my eye and I pulled it off the shelf.

"Ooo! What's this?" I read the title. "Eternity's Love... interesting." I was skimming over the back to see what it was about. "Listen to this! It's a paranormal romance about a vampire and a human... I do love me some vampires."

“Oh? Why?”

“Hm, they’re mysterious and hot.”

“They drink blood.”

“…To each their own.”

I put the book back and made my way down the isle, not seeing the tiny smirk on Carlisle’s face. We ended up staying in the store for another fifteen minutes, and after he made me pick out something to get when I was reluctant to have him pay — which he still did — we went to our next spot, the antique store.

There were a lot of little trinkets I was excited to look at, and if I weren’t mistaken, it seemed like Carlisle was more excited to look at me rather than the objects displayed in front of us. I picked up a few things throughout the store, inspecting them and placing them back in their rightful spots. I would practically point to almost anything I found and say, “Carlisle, look!” to which he would continue to explain what it was, which time period it was from, and what it was used for, almost as if he’s lived through them before and used those very items.

“This is beautiful.” I gasped, gently grabbing an old music box with the handle on the side to wind. I turned it, and although it was a bit scratchy due to its age, the music began to play and it was gorgeous. I didn’t know what the melody was, but it was soft and romantic. “I wonder what the story behind this one is.”

Carlisle looked at me while I went on.

“Maybe a courageous sailor gave it to his weeping lover right before he went to sea. Or maybe it was a gift to a little child from their parents, or an heirloom of some sorts. So many different possibilities, and somehow it ended up here, in my hands right now.”

“Regardless the story, now it’s your turn to make your own with it.” He spoke, taking it from my hands and walking to the register.

“…I could’ve payed.” I said to myself underneath my breath, he was already ringing it up and wrapping it before I went over there. “Let me buy you something.” I told him as we grabbed the bag and exited the shop. The chill from the air hit my face, and I subconsciously — well, maybe consciously — moved closer to him.

“You being with me tonight is enough already.” He smiled, taking my hand in his. His touch was still ice cold, but I blamed it on the weather outside. I felt bad that he was spending his money on me, but when I saw the sign for the coffee shop I lit up.

“I’ll buy us coffee! Or whatever you prefer! It’ll warm us up.” Beaming, I pulled him inside before he could resist. We were instantly met with the wonderful aromas of coffee, tea, spices, and everything else so great about a coffee shop.

There was another couple ordering in front of us, so we stood off to the side to look at the chalkboard of flavors hanging on the wall.

“Thank you, Y/N, but I don’t drink coffee… or tea.”

“I can buy you hot chocolate?”

“I’m okay, really, thank you for the offer.”

“…What do you drink then?”

He stared off to the side to think before bursting out into a mischievous grin, saying, “Blood red wine.”

I giggled with a roll of my eyes.

“Are you sure you don’t want anything?” I asked again, stepping to order now that the other couple had just left. He nodded his head, and with a disappointed sigh I told the boy at the register what I’d like. I decided to get a honey lavender chai tea latte. He rang it up and told me my total, but when I was getting out my card, Carlisle had already handed him his.

“Carlisle!” I protested.

“It’s only right that I pay for yours since I’m not getting anything.”

I furrowed my brows in genuine annoyance, which he definitely saw.

“Hey! I’ll let you buy me something on our next date.” He took his card back.

“So you wanna go on another date?” I perked up, and we waited for my drink to be made.

“Of course I do.”

His words caused me to break out into a shy smile, and I bit my lip in an attempt to keep it from growing bigger.

Once I was handed my latte, we left the store and walked to a bench close to the car. I sat down next to Carlisle and started sipping, the hot liquid traveling down my throat and immediately warming me up. I was staring off at the other side of the street at the lights in the trees, but from the corner of my eye I saw Carlisle staring at me.

“It’s really pretty, isn’t it?” I turned my head to him. The side of his face glowed a golden hue from the lights, and his eyes twinkled while his gaze met mine. He truly looked angelic.

“Yeah, it is.” He replied.

I had a feeling he was talking about something else.

We stayed there for a bit until the wind picked up and my cup was empty. I threw it away and we got in the car to leave, but of course he opened the door for me again. We talked about a lot of things on the drive back, and when he pulled into my driveway I couldn’t help but think about how I really didn’t want this night to end.

“Gosh, I don’t even wanna get out of the car.” I let out a chuckle.

“You know you don’t have to.” He stated. I looked at the time, and saw that it was 8:30. I had work in the morning, and so did he.

I sighed, taking a few seconds to think before I finally unbuckled and quickly opened the door to leave with my bags with the stuff he got for me. Carlisle followed, upset that I opened my own door.

“I was supposed to do that!”

I laughed, getting my keys out and stopping in front of my door with Carlisle beside me. I turned to him, a small smile on my features.

“I had a really nice time tonight.” I said to him.

“Yeah, me too.” He replied. “I’m thinking we do this again… say, in about—…” He glanced at his watch. “Ten minutes?”

“Oh yeah, okay.” I giggled at his joke. He was looking at me with something in his eyes that I couldn’t quite catch, but it was enough to send butterflies to my stomach. “Well, I—…” My voice trailed off when I saw him lean in and felt his lips on my forehead, my face now adorned with a blush. When I thought that was it, he moved down to the tip of my nose and placed a light kiss on top of it. The lower he got, the faster my heart was beating. His lips were finally in front of my own, and his eyes were on mine. We were so close, he was hovering in front of me, waiting, almost as if searching for consent. I gave a slight nod, and felt his lips gently press against mine.

My eyes closed, and hopefully his did too. I leaned into the kiss, and was happy when he did the same. Both of his hands cupped my face, and I felt my stomach twist with excitement. It was sweet, romantic, but unfortunately it was short. He pulled away and rested his forehead on mine.

“Ya know, you’re welcome to come in. I can make us some popcorn and we can watch a movie.” I whispered, my eyes fluttering open again. To my dismay, he moved completely now and stepped back.

“I would love to, but I think you need to rest.”

As if he willed it, a yawn was conjured and my mouth stretched open to let it out.

“…Maybe you’re right.” I frowned. He took my keys from my hand and unlocked the door for me before opening it. I walked past him inside, and then turned to him again. “Let me know when you get home?”

“Of course.” He gave me another kiss on the forehead, then started walking back to his car. When he was to the driver’s side, he stopped and looked at me. “Get some sleep. Doctor’s orders!”

I grinned, nodding my head with a wave of my hand as I shut the door and locked it. I turned around and pressed my back against the wood, and I heard his car turn on and him leaving. I couldn’t believe the events that had just unfolded, I was smiling like a freak, all giddy. I was still against the door when I suddenly heard the house phone ringing. I hurried to pick it up and answered it, but before I could even say hello, Bella’s voice spoke from the other line.

“Am I mistaken, or… did I just see Carlisle leaving your house?”

“Bella, hey!”

I was beaming as I replayed the events that happened in the last couple of hours in my mind. It looks like I had a long story to tell before I could follow the doctor’s orders tonight.

———————————

I hope it’s alright that I tag the people who asked for a pt. 2 in the comments of the first part!

not proofread, sorry if there are any typos!

@victorianhorrors @emmettcullenswife @twilightlover2007 @cudan2

390 notes · View notes

goldeneyedgirl · 6 months

Text

AILess Whumptober Day 27: Locked Up/Immortal

The final entry, late but complete! I figured that I put Alice through the ringer all the time, it might be Jasper's turn. I had a very specific image of how this would look in my head that did not want to be translated to the page. I've also looked at this so long that I cannot look at it any longer.

So, enjoy whatever this is! I hope you all enjoyed Whumptober and were suitably depressed after my contributions to this event my loves <3

iron & stone. (day 27: imprisoned/immortal).

twilight, alice/jasper, pg, one-sided vampire alice/demon jasper.

very non-graphic wound description

She finds him in an old church in Tulsita, Texas. It’s a tiny place, one that has less than thirty people.

It’s a grim little town, with worn buildings and cracked roads; the air is thick and hot, even late at night. It’s the perfect place to be forgotten about, to be trapped. It’s a place that feels like it isn’t part of the real world, and like maybe time has frozen.

There’s an edge of dread in the air, and she has to wonder about that.

But mostly, she just feels anticipation.

It’s taken her thirty years to find him, she’s looked everywhere. She’s read everything. She’s recorded all her visions and made all the notes. She’s learned Spanish, Italian, Hebrew, Greek, and Latin for him. She’s practically a scholar on him and his kind now.

She’s still nervous.

(There are three kinds of demons - the oldest ones who have existed for always, those are the ones that should never been disturbed or called upon. Then there are the ones that are born naturally - very rare but possible. And then there are the ones that are made. Not like vampires - in the demon world vampires are half-breed cockroaches, endemic to humanity, according to the books she’s read. The change isn’t half the pain and suffering that being turned into a demon is - she knows that.)

She walks through forest surrounding the building carefully - it’s unlikely that anyone will see her, but she prefers to err on the side of cautious. Especially since it’s very, very clear that someone does visit regularly (relatively speaking, of course - time moves very differently for immortals.)

The church is thoroughly abandoned, the pews rotten and broken and the floor tiles cracked and scattered - what would have been an expensive point of pride lost to time and neglect. What is left of the prayer books are ruined cardboard covers covered in mould. The altar is pulled right down and destroyed; all but one of the windows is boarded up. Glass crunches underfoot - a mix of the remain window’s panes, and broken beer bottles scattered around.

And as she stands there and looks around, she wonders how anyone set foot in this place, even just to hide and drink, when she can feel his presence right here? That boiling rage, that uneasy feeling in the air - the gift of animal fear, that whatever this place contains is dangerous and they need to run. It’s all around her, yelling at her to leave and never come back.

It wouldn’t be the first time.

Edward and Carlisle would be furious she’s come here by herself. When she’d worked it all out, when she’d told them what her visions had shown her, they’d acted like he was dead and gone and she’d just have to get used to walking the world alone. They expected grief and she’d been confused - Carlisle had insisted that he was as good as dead, and Alice needed to make her peace with that.

Alice could never bring him home. That the Cullen residence, the Cullen name, had no place for monsters and terrors and the things that little children hide from. And she had agreed with them politely, told them that she understood. And she did. They had thought she was mourning, taking her time to adjust to what her life would look like now.

Esme had tried to talk with her, but Alice had refused, and just closed herself up in her bedroom. And they had let her be.

They hadn’t expected her to pack her things in the same satchel she arrived with, to leave behind her locket with a letter thanking them for their hospitality; shedding the Cullen name and creed like an unfashionable winter coat.

If there was no place for monsters amongst the Cullens, then she certainly wasn’t welcome. They forget that she was a nomad, a vampire before she arrived at their house with a smile and golden eyes. They forget that she has a whole story before she ever found them, and that it’s not all pretty and kind.

(No place for monsters, when Carlisle went and changed four innocent people without consent? When suicide is a sin and so is murder? That she loves them fiercely but to be a family is to realize that none of them are perfect and holy and unsullied by their nature? The House of Cullen is so beautifully monstrous, she almost feels sorry for them for not seeing that.)

She had made herself once, exactly how she wanted, and she could do it again. Maybe one day she’ll visit them. See if they forgive her. Esme will. Emmett will. Rose might. But Carlisle and Edward… well, it depends on a lot of things.

Like what lies beneath the church.

It takes her a while to find the little trapdoor down into the earth behind the altar, covered with broken wood and tile, and chained up with a shiny new padlock that crumples like paper in her determined hand. The steps down are mostly rotten - slats of wood wedged roughly into the earth - but she is small and light, and slips down easily, down into a cellar dug too deep and too precisely to be created for anything but a very specific purpose, with the little alcoves in the wall with wells of oil to light the way - only a few of them are still barely burning, throwing bizarre shadows onto the walls.

Everything about this is screaming for her to turn back. Every instinct, every sign is telling her to go home. Except…

She saw him so many times, in hundreds of moments that will weave between them. The laughter and the jokes and the love. She’s seen the way he’ll protect her and change her, and she’ll do the same for him. He’ll look at her with loathing and then tolerance and smug power, and finally, soul-binding love and adoration. The scars she’ll bare will be in the shape of his jaw. She’ll trace his scars with her fingers and her mouth and her tongue; she knows all the little pieces of his story - the boring and the ugly and the difficult, as well as the fragments that are light and precious.

She can’t wait.

But this… this part she’s never seen properly and maybe her brain was protecting her.

The room is small, and little more than dirt and stone held up with rotting beams - buckled and warped, but holding steady for now. It smells rotten down here, almost burnt.

And then there is him.

He lies in the middle, on the stone, his head thrown back like a sacrifice about to be cut open in the name of some ancient god. His eyes are closed and if she didn’t know better, she would think he was asleep. She can see him properly like this, the muscular lines of his torso, the tendons in his neck, the strength in his arms and legs. He looks like a classical Greek sculpture celebrating rapture.

Except… there’s pain. The pain radiates off him like heat; most of the scars are old but the wounds are not. Or maybe they can’t heal. Burns and cuts and bone-deep gouges cover every part of him. There’s a tremor to his body that she doesn’t understand.

And then he hears her shoes on the stone floor and he lunges in one swift move, alert and ready, a snarl echoing in the space.

…Or what should have been one swift move.

Instead, it’s messy and horrific and takes her a moment to process, as she tumbles backwards, losing her footing as he comes at her.

He rips himself from the stone, pieces of skin from his legs sticking to the floor when he moves, leaving open wounds that looks almost like burns on every piece of skin that the stone touched. His legs buckle and shake at the sudden movement, evidence that he has not stood in a very long time.

His eyes are so black they look like empty sockets as he looms over her. Blackness spreads up his hands and arms, spidery black veins stretching from his eyes and throat. For a moment, she thinks she catches a glimpse of the wings; ghost-like and ephemeral in the corner of her eye, tattered void stretched over ancient bone, cracking into place no longer than his arm span.

(He’s magnificent.)

And just as suddenly as he hovers over her, he is ripped backwards and hits the floor with a hiss and the heavy clank of chains pulling tight and recoiling. She gasps at his visible pain, the way he struggles to get up, the demonic visage fading back into the skin of a man. A man in the worst kind of pain she’s ever seen.

“Get out.” His voice is hoarse, the kind that hurts to listen to, and he turns away from her. She can see the chains properly now - ankles, wrists, throat, and thighs, all connecting to a back-brace of iron. The wings have sunk back into his flesh, deep scarring almost outlining them on his back, and she hates to think how painful it was to stretch them imprisoned like this.

How long has he been here, like this? As beautiful as he is, she can see every hour, day, decade he’s spent here in the gaunt shadows of his face, in the decay in his clothing, in the layers upon layers of scars and open wounds. His eyes are hard; there is no hope or trust in them at all.

She always knew it would be difficult, but she never counted on what seeing him in this state would be like. How much it would ache to see this bitter shadow of a man, and the suffering he has lived through.

“I’ve been looking for you everywhere,” she says, sitting up. Her bag has survived the fall, but she prepared for it. Nothing in the bag is breakable, for good reason. He’s liable to get angrier.

“Oh?” He looks at her. “You long for death so badly?” His voice is mocking, but she can hear the strain, the rasp of his agony. He shifts to see her better, and she can almost see ghost of his future self.

“Only of a certain kind,” she murmurs to try and lighten the mood, but it falls flat - he’s giving her the kind of look Edward reserved for fawning classmates, so she feels adequately stupid and regrets being so flippant and crude. “You’re hurt. I want to help you.”

He is so badly hurt. The fresh burns smell like alcohol, raw and weeping blood. It’s oddly matte with no shine, but demon blood isn’t like human blood. There’s also a mottled black mark on his torso that she hopes is some terrible bruise and not broken bone just beneath the skin.

“Go away.” His voice is hard, no trace of the pain or misery he’s experiencing. There is a power and a rage there that makes her skin crawl and every instinct is telling her to run. He glares at her, and his eyes… she’s seen them red and gold and black, but right now they are demonic - a black sclera and pupil with churning red iris. But there is no shine to them, just a void. They scream of danger and she understands a little better why Carlisle warned her so grimly away from him.

“No.” She rummages in her bag. Aro had allowed her to use the library for a whole summer, to learn about demon physiology and healing. He’d been amused by her request - and by the discovery she’d left Carlisle’s family in pursuit of this demon. She knows that he’s already plotting, that nothing he offers is without strings attached, but she’ll worry about that later. She has the knowledge, and that is what is most important. “Let me help you.”

“Why do you want to help me? What do you want?” He’s holding himself oddly, and she realizes he’s trying not to touch the stone again, only the soles of his feet.

“To help you. And to talk.” She checks the bottles have not split in her bag; she’d used old water bottles, and a few of them are warping from the chemicals inside of them. But she’d gone over it a dozen times at least, and these will work. He just needs to let her help. “If you don’t like what I have to say, you can leave. Nothing about this is conditional.”

He stares at her. “You don’t want to be remade?” He asked suspiciously. His breathing is labored. “You don’t want all the secrets of the underworld? Wealth? To live again?”

She shakes her head. “I have money and a home of my own. And I have no memory of ever being anything else but what I am right now. The only thing I want is to help you.”

He lets out a bark of laughter. “You say that. But you’ll expect things. Everyone who comes here does. They always want. Humans are greedy creatures and vampires are parasites. You’ll want something, they all do,” he snaps at her and then he smiles, cruel and sharp. “Not many survive being remade. Maria tried to make a dozen of us. I was the only one of my batch that made it through. You have no idea what pain can be.” He scoffs. “Especially if the change was so overwhelming for you that you blocked it out.”

“I know.” She does. She’s read all the written accounts of being remade into a demon right back to some scraps of information from the Roman Empire; the rituals are mostly anecdotal. There was nothing about how it was done; even Aro didn’t have a full copy of how to remake someone. Several of the leads pointed towards the possibility of the remaining instructions being locked up in the Vatican, but even her visions couldn’t decipher if they were genuine or just a rumor.

The fact Maria of Monterrey had found a record and managed to translate it into a ritual that actually worked was awe-inspiring. It made her one of the most dangerous people on the planet - and one of the most powerful.

But the cost of it… how many people had she killed to create Jasper? To create her army? There were the newborn recruits, the blood for the army, and the ones that she tried to remake… that was thousands, more than Alice could comprehend in the scale of human life.

No, she’s not interested. Perhaps she even fears physical pain a little, because she has no memory of human pain, of the change. She’s never bled, never ached, never really suffered like that. And that unknown void of pain, a universal emotion understood by every living thing on the planet… she doesn’t have that.

But maybe…

“I’ve never been hurt,” she says softly. “Not that I remember. I can’t stand the thought of it. That something can feel like that. If I can stop it, I want to. That’s all.”

His gaze burns into her.

“Do you know how many people have come here and promised me things?” He sounds angry but tired. “They’ll free me, they’ll give me money and food and bandage me up. My own army. Girls. Boys. Anything I goddamn want. Do you know what happens to them?”

She sits cross-legged. “Don’t pretend you killed them.”

“You don’t think I could?” The look on his face is dangerous.

“I know you could. I know that if you really wanted to, I would have been dead before I saw you move. I know that you were the most dangerous man in Texas and Mexico for decades before I was even born - before you were remade.

“But I don’t see any bodies. No bloodstains, no bones, nothing left behind. There’s nothing here. Whatever they offered you, you didn’t kill them for it.”

“When I didn’t give them what they want, they left me here,” he says finally. “All of them.”

“Were there many?” That she is curious about. There are a hundred reasons to seek out a demon, but few people are brave enough, and fewer still with the information to find one.

“More than I expected.” He looks at her, his gaze hard and bitter. “What do you want?”

“To help you,” she says obediently. “To get you out of the chains and upstairs; maybe look at some of those wounds? I’m no doctor, but I think I know what to do.”

“And what is your price?” He sounds testy again, and she’s getting annoyed that he won’t listen.

“I’m a cheap date - maybe you can just not kill me? Once you’re free, maybe we could talk for a little while? I have a house we can go to where you can recover safely, if you want to. Otherwise we part as friends.” That would be a disappointing outcome but one she is prepared for. “As long as you’re okay to be alone. I didn’t go to all this trouble to let you go off on your own and keel over in the street dead.”

The surprise on his face is genuine. “I cannot die from this. That’s the whole point of being down here,” he said slowly. “I can only suffer. It would take much, much more to end me.”

He looks sad and tired when he says that, and she wants to hold him. To reassure him that it will get better. It can be wonderful, if he gives her a chance.

“Good. Then if you want to leave me, you can. Just let me help you, and everything will be okay, I promise.”

They stare at each other for a long time, neither of them flinching before he nods his head once.

“I hold a grudge. If you double-cross me…” he begins but she’s already moving closer.

“I understand.” And she does - she’s had visions of him in battle, and the sheer violence and blood-lust had scared her. He is a dangerous creature. But she’d be more likely to rip off her own arm than intentionally harm him.

“You’ll want to take off your shoes.”

It’s an odd request but she takes off her boots and moves forward.

One foot on the stone and she can feel the warmth inside of it; when she looks down, her stockings are already being to singe from the heat.

“Keep moving, or you’ll stick,” he warns and she’s horrified.

The stains on the stone that she had assumed were age were patches of blackened skin still stuck to the stone - his skin - that had torn away from him every single time that he moved.

And then there was the sudden awareness of that fact that his feet have been resting flat against the stone since they’ve started speaking, and she wants to scream, to pry him off the stone herself. She looks at him in naked horror and his lip quirks in quasi-amusement at her expression.

“It’s consecrated ground - no matter how deep it goes, it will always burn the likes of us - me worse than you, but I wouldn’t linger. And no, your shoes wouldn’t protect you.”

Consecrated ground. Fucking consecrated ground. She’d read about it - Europe was lousy with it, but much of it has faded away forgotten and unsanctified in the last couple of centuries as religion has lost its grip on the population. It’s much rarer in the states - most of it is in New England, allegedly. But this perfectly built little prison, complete with consecrated ground… she wants to ask a million questions about the how and the why, but she knows he won’t answer. Not yet.

Right now, she needs to get him off of the floor and out of this evil little room as soon as possible. And the first step is to break the chains embedded in the wall - where a single panel of rock is placed.

She’ll worry about getting the brace off of him once they’re out of here.

He watches her, almost entertained, as she tries to break the links, inspecting the chain carefully for flaws or weaknesses. But even with all her strength, they don’t even bend. They are stubborn and as cursed as this entire basement.

She can feel it - they cannot be broken. She can’t see a way around it.

But when she looks down at him watching her, at his dead-eyed stare of acceptance that he will not be leaving, she feels the weight of what she’s promised him. That he still believes that she will fail and leave him to his fate.

But she was Emmett Cullen’s sister for nearly three years, and Emmett had never met a law, a riddle, a trap or a rule that he couldn’t find a loophole for.

Which is why she brought a screwdriver. An entire toolkit, actually. Whilst vampire strength and speed could fix so many problems, there were some things that required the precision of a toolkit or a lock pick. And maybe the last gift Emmett ever gave her was a mini pink toolkit, and she’d taken that when she’d left.

If there was one thing that all her research had taught her was that magical laws are rigid and precise. The chains will not and can not be broken - that is clear to both of them. She probably isn’t the first that has tried over the years - she could only imagine that he’s tried to free himself hundreds, probably thousands, of times.

So they cannot break them.

She doubts anyone bothered to stop them from being dismantled.

He stares at her incredulously when she pulls the screwdriver from her bag, like maybe she’s some kind of fool. And maybe she is.

But when the first screw hits the stone, she smiles brightly at the look of shock on his face.

“Pick all of them up, I don’t want anyone knowing how we figured this out,” she says bossily, hopping between her feet - her stockings have burnt through, ragged blacked edges having stretched back up above her ankle. She has more clothing at the house, but she’s mildly annoyed at the architect of this building for ruining them. It’s an uncomfortable heat, an odd sensation, but it doesn’t feel too bad as long as she keeps moving.

He fumbles for the screws as each of them fall - they are smaller than it feels like they should be for the size and weight of the chains, but there are so many of them.

And then…

And then the heavy chains drop free of the wall, and he is free. He stares at them in total bewilderment before he looks back up at her.

“Now you’re free,” she says breathlessly, jamming the screwdriver into her bag, and goes to help him stand. He’s unsteady but takes a deep breath as he begins to peel his feet from the stone. It’s horrific as the skin of his soles tears away, blistered and raw but not yet blackened, thankfully. He lets out a groan of pain, one that makes him sound every single day of his age, every single day of his pain.

She doesn’t say anything, she just supports him until they are finally, finally back on the dirt floor.

“Do you want to sit?” She asks quietly and he shakes his head.

“I want to get out,” he says stiffly, and she nods, as they move towards the exit.

It’s an awkward trip back up the stairs; the staircase is narrow, but he needs her guiding support for now, his legs shaking with each step. It takes twice as long as it should, with him pausing every so many steps, as she half-shoves him onto each step. His movements are made awkward from the brace, and she’s already trying to figure out how she’ll pry that thing off him.

And then…

She shoves open the trap door, the wood splintering. And even the feeble moonlight shining down from the broken window feels like someone has just lit up the room - the darkness of the cellar feels inky and oppressive in comparison; the oil-wells dimmer than they were when she descended.

He lets out a shuddering breath as he climbs out, into the fresh air, his eyes darting around the space.

“It’s okay, it’s only us,” she soothes. “You’re safe.”

He nods, but he doesn’t look at her. He’s staring at the boarded-up windows, at the broken glass and rotting pews and forgotten prayer books.

The look on his face reminds her of herself, when she awoke that first time in the woods alone. She knew nothing, had seen nothing in person… just the appreciation and awe of being there, in that place. A moment of simply being alive and in the world.

She remembers it well.

—

They sit inside the old church in silence for a while.

After a while, she begins to pull out first aid from her bag. “Let me,” she says softly, and he doesn’t protest - though he refuses to let her see the wounds under his threadbare clothing. She hasn’t got anything that will stitch his wounds, but she can clean the wounds and bandage them so that they at least stay sanitized and protected. The chemicals she has to use burn her nose, but they seem to work.

“Now, let’s have a look at the brace,” she says soothingly, the screwdriver back in her hand. He eyes her with suspicion but nods once for her to continue.

It’s not as easy as the chains. The brace is too tight and has bitten tight into his skin. The screws come out slowly, ad she doesn’t care that they roll amongst the glass and the debris.

The brace doesn’t fall away. Instead, she has to peal each piece away, skin and scar tissue tearing, leaving raw open wounds in their wake. But he doesn’t make a sound as each piece hits the floor. He just stares up at the piece of sky he can see.

And then it is gone. The wounds will scar, she knows it. But he has movement back, real movement again. His neck, his arms, his wings… Free again, a little bit more.

“Done,” she says softly.

“I don’t even know your name,” he finally says hoarsely, and looks back down at her, as she packs everything back up.

“Alice Cullen,” she says, and thinks about correcting herself. She’s not sure what surname she should be using honestly. She never had one of her own, and nothing else feels like it would fit. She was supposed to be Cullen for a while and then…

Well, she didn’t want to get ahead of herself. Cullen was fine.

He nods in acknowledgement before looking back up at the sliver of sky visible through the broken window.

“I want to leave this place,” he says in a steady voice.

“Of course.”

She wants to offer to burn it down. To tear it down with her bare hands for him. But he won’t understand, not yet.

“Let’s go.”

—

He finds his strength as soon as his feet hit the grass, enough to stand on his own and move away from her support, onto the grass, shivering as his feet sunk in for the first time… in so very long. His turns in a slow circle, just staring up at the clouds and the trees and the world outside he’s hellish, cursed little dirt prison.

He… to call it a scream is not accurate. It is a scream, a roar, a holler, a flood of grief and rage and resentment. It is pain and loss, swearing revenge against the one that did this to him. It is regret and heartbreak and relief.

He is free.

His wings stretch out reflexively, the black staining his hands and face faintly, and the full horror of what the brace has done to him is revealed beyond the splitting and tearing and stretching of the wounds - his wings only open as long as his arm-span; the humeral and secondaries appear to have been crushed from the brace. And the humerus bone appears to have been snapped and reset so that it cannot extend. Half of his wings are limp and crumpled against his spine, a dead and mottled colour.

He has been crippled, possibly forever.

Except…

She’s never really been in the business of giving up. Of looking at something and accepting a bad roll of the dice. She looks at his wings, slack and broken, and she wants to fix them. She’s already considering it, mentally adding splints and bandages, breaking and resetting bone, stitching back together the thin flesh that stretches over them. It would be painful and miserable and it would take a long, long time. And it might not work.

But she already knows that if it didn’t work, she’d take him to Carlisle. She’d take him to Carlisle and use every single trick in her book to convince him to help. She’d promise that Carlisle would never see her again, that she’d never bother any of them, if Carlisle would just fix him. She’d take him to Carlisle, to Aro, to goddamn Maria, if it meant helping.

Anything he needed. Or wanted. She would get it - she had waited for this for so long.

He’s silent now, and he turns to look at her with confusion on his face.

“I looked for you, you know. For almost forty years.” Her voice is soft, and his gaze turns wary. “I get …visions of the future. Of the path that I’m on. And you have always been in them. I saw you with Maria in the south. I saw you when you left with Peter and Charlotte. I never saw what happened, and how you ended up down there but I tried so hard to find you. I’m sorry I didn’t come sooner.”

And he stares at her, the black receding from his body, the wings folding back into his body.

“What did you see?” He asks, and he sounds exhausted.

“That I love you. All of you, for as long as you’ll have me.”

He shakes his head, and for a second, he looks so young. “Did you see what happened when she remade me? When she worked out how to make her army more powerful?” He asks. “Did you see what it took to become this? Did you see what I became?”

“I did.”

“Ninety days. Of pain and sacrifice and being ripped into pieces and put back together. To feel the rage boil and burn until your skin,” he murmurs, looking back up at the cloudy night. “Of having this fresh, feral monstrosity of yourself fit itself inside of you and this… clarity of the world and how everything fits together. I’m not the man you want, Alice Cullen.”

“Yes, you are. And it’s … not Cullen anymore, not really. I left them because they wouldn’t let me find you.”

He’s silent, staring at her.

“They said I should think of you as good as dead and that wasn’t… you were still here. I just had to find you. I wasn’t going to mourn you just because you weren’t a vampire anymore. What Maria did to you didn’t change our future, so it didn’t matter to me. But it did to them. So I left them.” She shrugs. “I had enough money saved that I have my own home now - our home if you want it. But it’ll just be us.”

He looks at her hard, like he’s trying to look right through her.

“I was going to destroy you, you realize,” he says finally, his knees buckling but he sinks into the soft ground with dignity, leaning against a tree. “I was going to devour you whole.”

“I mean, with a safe word…” she begins and he lets out a chuckle.

“You aren’t what I was expecting,” he says finally, and she moves closer. She can smell rain on the air. “I’ve never met anyone who didn’t want to be remade like me as payment.”

She’s seen it. In a few decades, he’ll offer it as a form of protection. That the only thing more dangerous than a mated vampire and demon would be two mated demons roaming untethered to a master or mistress.

She’s seen futures where she accepts and they are … sublime. Glorious and terrible and so very, very happy. And she’s seen futures where she’s content with herself, and they are just as happy, just as fantastic and beautiful and fatal. It was never about the venom or the magic that flowed in their veins. It was always them.

“If you don’t want to stay with me, I can help you find Peter and Charlotte,” she offers. “You can recover in my home until then, and we can part as friends.”

He looks back up at the sky as the rain begins to fall, a smile stretching across his face as the water hits his face.

How long has it been since he’s seen and felt rain?

“I think I’d like to stay here for a while,” he says finally, and she can feel how tired and confused he is.

He doesn’t trust her yet - it will be a long time until he does, she knows that. Long after his wounds have healed - she’s certainly got some ideas for his wings, but it’ll be a while before he’s willing to hear her out - he’ll still treat her with suspicion. And that’s okay. She didn’t bet everything on him to be scared off so easily.

Sitting down beside him, she’s careful not to touch him. His eyes are glazed and dreamy as he watches the clouds and the rain, the darkness swallowing them up in the woods behind the church.

“You should rest,” she says softly. “We’ll have to leave before dawn, but we have a few hours.”

“I’m fine,” he corrects, but his words are slower and easier, and she doesn’t say anything else as he slowly drifts off, the cool rain on his face.

Jasper Whitlock. Major of the Confederate Army, turned by Maria of Monterrey back in 1863. The love of her life, who was supposed to show up at a diner in Philadelphia but never made it. The scourge of the South, a mythological monster forged out of pain and horror that most people couldn’t imagine, let alone survive.

And her reason for everything.

He looks… peaceful as he sleeps, the rain clinging to him and not even disturbing him. All the stress and pain and rage slipped off his face. He looked like a different person.

She doesn’t remember what sleep is like, and it’s strange to think of just not being for a while. To just be so vulnerable.

It’s a strange feeling, waiting for so long, and now being here with him. Watching him sleep in the rain, broken up into little pieces but somehow still standing.

The real thing is so much more than she ever anticipated.

Nothing will hurt him again. No one will imprison him again. He is free. She found him. Anything he wants, anything at all.

“I’ve got you, Jasper. I’ve got you."

28 notes · View notes

ihaveasmutaddictionsblog · 1 year

Text

Carlisle/Bella

Summary:

Carlisle is stitching Bella's arm after the paper-cut at her birthday party, things get spicy.....

"You know my father was a clergyman," he mused as he cleaned the table carefully, rubbing everything down with wet gauze, and then doing it again. The smell of alcohol burned in my nose. "He had a rather harsh view of the world, which I was already beginning to question before the time that I changed." Carlisle put all the dirty gauze and the glass slivers into an empty crystal bowl. I didn't understand what he was doing, even when he lit the match. Then he threw it onto the alcohol-soaked fibers, and the sudden blaze made me jump.

"Sorry," he apologized. "That ought to do it. So I didn't agree with my father's particular brand of faith. But never, in the nearly four hundred years now since I was born, have I ever seen anything to make me doubt whether God exists in some form or the other. Not even the reflection in the mirror."

I pretended to examine the dressing on my arm to hide my surprise at the direction our conversation had taken. Religion was the last thing I expected, all things considered. My own life was fairly devoid of belief. Charlie considered himself a Lutheran, because that's what his parents had been, but Sundays he worshipped by the river with a fishing pole in his hand. Renee tried out a church now and then, but, much like her brief affairs with tennis, pottery, yoga, and French classes, she moved on by the time I was aware of her newest fad.

"I'm sure all this sounds a little bizarre, coming from a vampire."

He grinned and took my hand in his, knowing how their casual use of that word never failed to shock me. "But I'm hoping that there is still a point to this life, even for us. It's a long shot, I'll admit," he continued in an offhand voice staring at the lingering flames. "By all accounts, we're damned regardless. But I hope, maybe foolishly, that we'll get some measure of credit for trying."

"I don't think that's foolish," I whispered.

His eyes found mine at my admission while his thumb gently traced circles on the top of my hand. I hadn’t realised how close the two of us had become while he bandaged my arm.

I couldn't imagine anyone, deity included, who wouldn't be impressed by Carlisle.

I felt his fingers slowly begin to trail up my arm until they finally came to rest at the nape of my neck, while his thumb continued the gentle strokes across my cheek.

He was beautiful.

I’d never really appreciated the sight of him. The bright gold of his eyes was the same as Edward’s, yet they were framed by thick, dark lashes making them pop against the rest of his fair features. He leaned his head in close to my neck, inhaling softly.

“You’re the very first one to agree with me,” he replied, his breath tickling my skin.

“I am?” I asked speculatively.

He pulled back slightly to hold my gaze again, but then his eyes flickered to my lips, darkening as they met mine once more. His lips were so close I was scared to breathe, afraid to break the moment.

“Yes,” he said letting his lips brush over mine.

I couldn’t resist any more. I inclined my head meeting his lips delicately. They were cold against my own, but the heat in his gaze chased away any discomfort.

The kiss was gentle at first, but it soon turned hungry as he squeezed my neck, taking my bottom lip between his teeth and biting down hard.

I gasped, tasting a drop of my own blood. Carlisle smirked and repositioned his thigh to be between my legs so that I straddled it while still perched on his desk. I arched my back allowing my clit to grind against him as his lips found mine once more. He pushed me back on the desk, causing multiple items to crash to the floor, before he was back pressed against me trailing kisses down my neck. His hand grabbed my leg, trailing higher up my thigh until he hitched my dress to my hip. That’s when I felt the hard length of him push against my throbbing clit, straining to get out.

I rolled my hips impatiently. Yet he pulled abruptly away.

I let out a little whine. I wanted him now!

“Not so fast,” he teased.

Before I could even comprehend what was happening, Carlisle ripped my dress clean down the middle faster than my eyes could see. It left me only in my black lacy thong, which didn’t leave much to the imagination.

Sprawled out in front of him, he eyed me hungrily, causing my nipples to peak in anticipation.

He let a single finger trace a lazy circle around each of them before continuing down, past my navel to my most sensitive spot, pausing when he felt the wetness there. His smile then was full of male arrogance.

“Please…” I moaned, “I need...”

“Need what?” Carlisle tormented me by slipping a single finger in my entrance.

“More.” I whispered.

“Sorry, I didn’t hear you. What do you need?” he mocked.

“MORE!” I said, nearly yelling with my impatience.

He pinched one of my nipples in response, sending shock waves through me and continuing to do so while undoing the top button of his black slacks.

His cock finally sprung free.

My mouth nearly watered at the sight of his thick size already dripping with precum. Palming himself, he guided the tip over my clit sliding up and down in a slow but deliberate manner.

“Is this what you want?” he murmured in my ear.

The hand which was pinching my nipple moved to encircle my neck, lightly squeezing.

A whimper was my only response.

Carlisle let out a feral snarl, thrusting into me in one hard motion. I’ve never felt so full in my life. I clenched around him, trying to adjust to the sudden size, but just as soon as he was buried inside of me, he removed himself pausing for just a moment before slamming back into me forcing a cry from my mouth.

He squeezed my throat in response, cutting the blood flow to my head. My vision blurred, all I could focus on was Carlisle’s brutal pace and the building pressure between my thighs. He lifted one of my legs to rest on his shoulder allowing him to push even deeper, my eyes watered. But he didn’t slow down.

His fingers began rubbing slow circles over my clit.

“That’s a good girl,” he sighed, “Are you going to come for me?”

I climbed higher and higher, the pressure in my core becoming nearly unbearable while my tears spilled and ran down my cheeks.

He released the hand around my throat, and I exploded. My orgasm shattered through me. He took hold of both my legs, gripping my knees as he continued to pound into me, feeling my walls clench around him as I rode out the orgasm. Carlisle’s movements became erratic until he let out a roar of pleasure as he finally found release, collapsing on top of my naked chest.

My breaths were heavy, yet my heart began to slow. Carlisle lifted his head planting a soft kiss on my lips and then my forehead.

“Good girl,” he said softly, before he removed himself entirely, passed me a spare jacket and walked swiftly from the room, leaving me lying on the desk contemplating whether or not I’d be capable of walking myself.

#one shot #smut #twilight #carlisle cullen #bella swan #carlisle x bella #spicy books #vampire

57 notes · View notes

spanishinfluenza · 1 year

Text

It is officially Christmas time therefore it is my sworn duty to tell you that Esme Cullen is a STAUNCH DEFENDER of Dean Martin's Baby, It's Cold Outside

This is the time of year where the Cullen house gets to listen to the tuneful voice of their matriarch grumbling, "Say whats in this drink?' was a SAYING! A CULTURAL JOKE! PRETENDING TO REFUSE A DESIREABLE PARTNER WAS A 50S MEME!"

To which the house responds, "we know, we were there!"

#she could very well be Jewish too these hcs are not mutually exclusive #esme will not stand for Baby Its Cold Outside slander #similarly Emmett loves that one line in Fairytail of New York and will sing it louder than any other libe #but thats more because he hates to be reasonable #esme cullen #carlisle cullen #im so sad Christmas cant show up in Rope #maybe a one shot will occur?

99 notes · View notes

velvetcloxds · 2 years

Text

DOCTOR'S ORDERS | C.C.

pairing: carlisle cullen x fem!reader

word count: 1.2k

warnings: flu symptoms and whatnot

summary: it's rather difficult hiding the fact that you're sick when your boyfriend is a doctor, even harder when he lives in a house full of vampires

Your stubbornness would be the death of you, Carlisle had told you so many times before, but you’d always disagree, of course, or else it would be extremely out of character. Now, however, you were in the middle of one of those frustrating times where he was right and if you weren’t already ill, you’d surely drive yourself sick with spite. You’d woken up with a rather awful cold, not at all sure where it came from and what you’d done to meet such an unlucky fate, but you were all but knocking on heaven’s door, convinced you’d meet your end before that sun would set- but there was no way you were going to admit that out loud. Which is how you found yourself walking around the woods with half of the Cullen clan, in search of the perfect spot for Edward and Bella’s wedding day, dreading every single second of it.

“We could create a flower arch over here,” Alice thought out loud, gesturing between two large trees, Jasper nodding in obedient agreement trying to envision what she was picturing, though no one could quite see things the way Alice did, except Edward, of course, who was seeing the whole scene first hand.

“Y/n, are you listening?” Bella sighed softly, concern tilting into her brow as she looked at you, your eyes drawn thin as you regretted every second of overexposed sunlight. “I asked if you had any idea what she was saying but I see now you’re even more lost than I am,” she explained and stepped forward almost motherly when you suddenly leaned back against a tree, a dizzy spell sneaking up on you as you took a lazy breath of air through your pained lungs. “You don’t look so well, you know,” she stated, your faux smile doing nothing to prove her wrong.

“I’m fine, Bells,” you attempted, contradicting yourself when a dry cough shook through your lips, almost causing you to stumble less Bella reached out to steady you, the entire notion enough to prompt Edward to speed over, brows tilting in confusion at Bella’s concern.

“She’s sick,” Edward noted, and were you in a fighting state, you’d have scorned him for slipping into your head without consent but there was no need, he noticed that as well. “Sorry, but you were hardly planning on telling me otherwise,” he sighed and smiled when you scrunched your nose at him. “Or anyone else for that matter,” he scoffed, sharing a look with Alice to send for Carlisle as he lifted a hand to your forehead, needing to pull his hand away at the sheer contrast the extreme heat had with his own skin. “Carlisle is waiting in his office,” he stated quite simply, nodding at Bella to let you go before taking you in his arms and speeding into the mansion.

“Put her down over here,” Carlisle rushed, adjusting the pillow on his office stretcher before helping Edward to guide you into place, offering you that familiar pitied smile in the process. “Stubborn girl,” he tutted, hand ready to take hold of yours as you reached for him, pouting at the simple scorning you’d received by merely a few words.

“No fair,” you sighed, giving into his touch as he proceeded to check your fever as well, frowning at the idea that you were already burning up, your body begging for some relief from the difficult task of fighting whichever bug you’d picked up. “Can’t hide anything from you.”

“And why on earth would you want to?” he hummed, smoothing the crease from your forehead, Edward leaving the room as his further presence seemed pointless. “What could be so awful about having me take care of you?”

“You’re not the problem,” you informed him, falling into that familiar daze brought on by being around him, being touched by him- even if his current touch was aimed at trying to discern all of your symptoms, a subtle act that was anything but subtle. “Doctor Cullen, however, he’s a bit of a pain,” you feigned seriousness as he scoffed lightly, nodding as if in understanding as he helped you sit up.

“So I’ve heard,” he agreed, and you knew what came next, a familiar routine he’d always follow whenever you were sick, so familiar that you were already leaning into him, arms securing around you as he began walking you to the bathroom. “Tell you what,” he began with his tone dipping lightly, indicating that he had a deal to be made as he set you down onto the edge of the bathtub, one hand flipping the water open and the other keeping you steady. “After we get your fever down, and get some medicine in you, I don’t see why we can’t arrange for your bedrest to be done in the living room.”

“Really?” you beamed at that, coughing into the nook of your elbow at the sudden excitement but not regretting it at all as your watery eyes looked up to meet his golden ones, his own lips dancing with a suggestive smile.

“Really, as long as you promise to slow down for a bit and let me take care of you,” he bargained, and he knew you were already setting aside your objections when you allowed him to slowly start undressing you, fingers so delicate you barely felt them as they worked. “Does that sound good?” he prompted, kneeling in front of you with his hands on your knees as you nodded, but he knew you were set out for more when you started undoing his tie, the material brushing over your tremored fingers. “What are you doing, trouble,” he demanded with a raised brow, and he had to bite back an intrigued smirk when you threw the tie onto the floor.

“Will you join me?”

“Would that make you feel better?” he already knew the answer, knew that once you’d get over your initial unwillingness to be coddled the neediness would sink in, the unimaginable desire to have him with you until you were better and he’d never fight it, never deny you of the only medicine you were ever willing to let him give you.

“More than you know.”

“Very well,” he agreed in defeat, watching in admiration as you moved your attention to unbuttoning his shirt, so focussed, so lost in the promise of him holding you in his arms that you could almost feel yourself feeling better already without any treatment at all. “We need to do whatever it takes to get you better,” he declared, dying all over again at the sweet little hum you offered in reply.

“Doctor’s orders?” you suggested, and he couldn’t stop himself from brushing a quick kiss on your temple as you leaned forward to pull his shirt off.

“Doctor’s orders.”

twilight taglist: @mirclealignr @cupids-crystals @sheraayasher @scarlet-prey @a-lil-bit-nuts @saintlike78 @chaoticgirl04 @imabee-oralizard @itzliyalupin

#carlisle cullen #carlisle cullen x reader #carlisle cullen x you #carlisle cullen x yn #carlisle cullen x y/n #carlisle cullen fluff #carlisle cullen fic #carlisle cullen fanfic #carlisle cullen fanfiction #carlisle cullen imagine #carlisle cullen one shot #carlisle cullen blurb #carlisle cullen drabble #twilight #twilight fluff #twilight fic #twilight fanfic #twilight fanfiction

1K notes · View notes

volturi-imagines · 1 year

Text

Demetri’s New Family Part 2

DEMETRI’S POV

Panic set in as I heard my human’s heartbeat drop as her eyes closed, Carlisle heard it too as he quickly cut the cord and wrapped the still-crying newborn baby in a blanket before thrusting the babe into my arms.

“She’s hemorrhaging, if I don’t stop the bleeding she will die.”

Moving out of the way it gave Carlisle and the nurses that rushed into the room, room to work. Sitting in one of the chairs I observed the newborn in my arms, the babe was now asleep after I had rocked it a little, the baby looked similar to my human, with the same nose and pouty lips.

I had no idea that saving one little human would have had such a big impact on me, but after saving her I couldn’t stop thinking of her, it wasn’t until Marcus confirmed that she was my mate that I returned to Forks, only to find her in labor, scared and alone.

“Demetri.”

Not realizing I had zoned out I looked up at Carlisle.

“We stopped the bleeding, she should be fine. We need to take the baby and make sure she is okay.”

A girl. My mate had brought a beautiful baby girl into the world.

Handing the baby to Carlisle I went back to my mate's side, she was asleep a bag of blood was hooked up to her, replenishing her of the blood she had lost. The smell of fresh blood caused my throat to burn but I easily ignored it, my mate needed me.

A few hours later, Carlisle brought the baby back into the room, showing me how to properly feed and burp the baby.

“Dare I say you seem like a natural, Demetri.”

“I didn’t think it possible, but I love this little girl like she is my own. I don’t even know my mate’s name.”

I looked at Carlisle, I was thousands of years older than him but at that moment he seemed wiser and older than me.

“Her name is Emily. She is 22, a straight-A college student, her parents died when she was young, so she was raised by her grandmother who passed 2 years ago. She has no one.”

“She has me.”

#demetri volturi imagine #demetri x reader #demetri volturi #x reader #twilight #twilight saga #twilight one shot #the volturi #volturi #carlisle cullen

78 notes · View notes

louisetaylor · 29 days

Link

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Twilight Series - All Media Types Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Edward Cullen/Bella Swan, Alice Cullen/Jasper Hale, Emmett Cullen/Rosalie Hale, Edward Cullen and Alice Cullen Characters: Edward Cullen, Alice Cullen, Rosalie Hale, Jasper Hale, Bella Swan, Carlisle Cullen, Emmett Cullen Additional Tags: F Marry Kill, telepathic Edward, Cullen siblings being siblings, Eavesdropping, listeners never hear any good of themselves, unless they do, Seinfeld (TV) References, Comedy, sex is mentioned as a concept but that's it, Marriage, Murder, Carlisle is not present but he is hot, Sarcastic Jasper Hale, Emmett is a himbo, Edward Cullen is Not Gay, Edward loves Bella, No Beta We Live Like Men Summary:

In Midnight Sun, Edward eavesdrops on Bella by reading the thoughts of the girls who sit with her. Creepy, you say? Well, who wouldn't spy on their crush given this golden opportunity? Edward overhears a game of F, Marry, Kill...with the Cullen boys as the subject. Who will win Bella's heart, and who will lose his life?

#twilight #edward/bella #edward cullen #bella swan #f marry kill #midnight sun #seinfeld mention #alice cullen is cute #jasper hale is sarcastic #emmett cullen is a himbo #edward loves bella #comedy #one shot #dialogue only #carlisle cullen is a dilf #edward cullen is not gay

4 notes · View notes

zapreportsblog · 7 months

Note

Cullens family x youngest sister! Reader

The cullens each trying to wake up their newest and youngest member in their family for her first day of Highschool.

Let’s just say reader isn’t a light sleeper😅

❝like a bear in hibernation❞

✭ pairing : cullen siblings x reader

✭ fandom : twilight

✭ summary : (Y/n) is the recent adopted member of the Olympic Clan, she’s was once a Norman vampire but after having a run in with Esme she was taken under her wing and slowly adopted into the family’s traditions. Now it’s the first day of school for her and no one can seem to wake her up

✭ authors note : in this version of twilight the vampires here can sleep

✭ twilight masterlist

In the cozy Cullen household, a sense of serenity prevailed. The family had welcomed a new member into their fold, (Y/n), a former nomadic vampire who had once struggled with a dangerous addiction to human blood. But since coming under the Cullens' guidance, she had embraced their lifestyle, adopting a diet of animal blood and striving to gain control over her thirst.

Today marked a special day for (Y/n) as she prepared for her first day of school in the small town of Forks. Her siblings, each with their unique approach to waking her up, had agreed to take turns in the morning.

Alice, always the lively one, decided to be the first to rouse her new sister. She entered (Y/n)'s room with a mischievous grin, armed with a portable speaker playing loud pop music. With precision, she positioned it right by (Y/n)'s ear and cranked up the volume.

The blaring music filled the room, reverberating off the walls. Alice watched with eager anticipation, expecting (Y/n) to jolt awake at the sudden noise.

However, much to Alice's surprise, (Y/n) merely mumbled in her sleep, turning away from the source of the noise. Her eyelids remained closed, and she seemed undisturbed by the cacophony.

Alice couldn't help but giggle at (Y/n)'s resilience. It appeared that (Y/n) was not an easy sleeper to wake.

Alice exited (Y/n)'s room, a bemused expression on her face. Her attempt to wake their new sister with loud pop music had failed, leaving (Y/n) in blissful slumber. She reported back to the rest of the Cullen family, who had gathered in the hallway outside the room.

"No luck in waking her up," Alice declared with a huff, her brow furrowed in frustration.

Edward, with his telepathic abilities, chimed in, "I couldn't sense any change in her emotions when you tried to wake her, Alice."

Emmett chuckled, amused by the situation. "Well, this ought to be interesting. Who's next?"

Alice rolled her eyes playfully before suggesting, "Jasper's turn."

Jasper, always calm and composed, entered (Y/n)'s room with a sense of determination. He understood that his unique gift could be used to influence emotions, and he had a plan in mind.

Approaching (Y/n)'s bed, he reached out and gently touched her shoulder, his voice a soothing whisper. "Wake up, (Y/n). It's time to start your day."

(Y/n) stirred at his touch, but her sleep seemed unusually deep. She mumbled something unintelligible and shifted in her bed, still not fully awake.

Jasper didn't give up. He decided to use his gift, channeling feelings of excitement and energy into (Y/n)'s subconscious. It was like giving her a burst of enthusiasm, akin to the zoomies a dog might experience.

As he infused her with this vibrant energy, (Y/n)'s body reacted. She began tossing and turning in her bed, her limbs twitching as if caught in the throes of excitement. Her breathing quickened, and her features contorted into a mix of joy and restlessness.

The rest of the Cullens watched with fascination as (Y/n) remained blissfully asleep, completely oblivious to the energetic turmoil happening within her dreams.

Jasper couldn't help but crack a smile at the sight. It appeared that, even in slumber, (Y/n) was a force to be reckoned with.

After Jasper's attempt to wake (Y/n) ended with her tossing and turning in her sleep, the Cullen siblings couldn't help but be entertained by their new sister's stubborn slumber. Jasper exited her room, shaking their heads.

Jasper smirked and said, "Seems my attempt didn't work. Emmett, it's your turn."

Emmett, always up for a challenge, grinned widely. He stepped into (Y/n)'s room with an air of excitement, ready to try something different. As soon as he spotted her, he couldn't resist the urge to act like a big kid.

Emmett began bouncing on (Y/n)'s bed with the enthusiasm of a child on a trampoline. The mattress squeaked and shifted beneath his weight as he jumped up and down. He called out, "Wake up, sleepyhead! It's a brand new day!"

But all (Y/n) did in response was mumble in her sleep, her brow furrowing slightly as if she were having an unusual dream. Unbeknownst to Emmett, her powers were activated in her sleep, her telekinesis manifesting.

With a sudden burst of power, Emmett was lifted off the bed and sent flying through the air. He let out a surprised shout as he crashed through the bedroom door and slid into the living room, creating a comical scene that left the other Cullens in stitches.

Emmett groaned from his less-than-graceful landing and rubbed his head as he rose to his feet. He looked back at the closed bedroom door, shaking his head.

"Rose, your turn," he grumbled, determined to finally get their new sister out of bed.

Rosalie, determined to wake (Y/n) from her stubborn slumber, entered the room with a plan in mind. She approached the bed and, with her vampire strength, effortlessly lifted it, attempting to tilt it slightly to make (Y/n) lose her balance and fall.

However, as Rosalie exerted her strength on the bed, she quickly realized that (Y/n) was gripping the mattress tightly, refusing to budge. Her brows furrowed in surprise, but before she could react, (Y/n) activated her telekinesis once more.

With a surge of power, the bed was wrenched from Rosalie's grasp, and she was sent flying backward. Emmett, who had been waiting just outside the room, caught Rosalie with ease.

Rosalie looked back at the closed door, her irritation evident. "Tough luck," Emmett teased as he held her.

The other Cullens, who had been watching the spectacle unfold, exchanged glances. Edward, always the logical one, was their last hope. They turned to him with expectant expressions, silently asking if he could use his telepathy to wake (Y/n).

Edward chuckled, shaking his head. "I can't, actually. She puts up a mental block when she's asleep. It's like she's determined to enjoy her beauty rest."

The Cullens sighed collectively, realizing that (Y/n) was indeed a unique challenge when it came to waking her up. Her stubborn slumber was proving to be quite the puzzle, and they couldn't help but be intrigued by their new sister's extraordinary abilities, even in her sleep.

The Cullen family had exhausted their attempts to wake (Y/n) from her deep slumber. With her first day of school looming, it became clear that a more unconventional approach was needed.

Esme, always the nurturing and caring mother figure of the family, spoke up. "Well, we can't just have her miss her first day of school."

Carlisle, the family's patriarch, sighed, knowing what had to be done. "I hope it didn't have to come to this."

He informed the rest of the family of his plan, and with a determined expression, he left the house. Minutes later, he returned with a packet of human blood from his job at the local blood bank.

The Cullens watched with curiosity as Carlisle poured the human blood into a cup, the rich red liquid contrasting starkly with their usual diet of animal blood. They exchanged concerned glances but remained silent.

Carlisle ignored their inquiries and proceeded to (Y/n)'s room. He left the cup of human blood on her nightstand, hoping it would be the key to finally waking her.

Only seconds later, (Y/n) emerged from her room, cup in hand, sipping the human blood. Her eyes were bright and alert, a smile on her face as she greeted her family.

"What a nice wake-up call," she said, her tone cheerful. "But you guys wouldn't believe what I dreamt about."

The Cullens exchanged relieved glances. It seemed that the allure of human blood had successfully roused (Y/n) from her deep slumber, and she was now ready to face her first day of school with her newfound family.

As (Y/n) shared her dream with the Cullens, they couldn't help but be amused by the creative lengths they had gone to in order to wake her. It was just another extraordinary day in the life of their unique family.

707 notes · View notes

shewastheheart · 1 year

Note

can you please write another carlesme one shot? pretty please? i love the way you write them

A/N: Thank you so much for the kind words! Of course! I'm not sure if this is even close to what you may have had in mind, but there's this idea I've been turning over in my head about Carlisle having had a different path and well...

They’d heard the rumors, the talk of an angel of death amidst their world, but they considered themselves somewhat off the grid. ‘Vegetarians’, their friends from various covens considered them, dismissive and pitying.

And they were, for the most part.

But no matter how little they participated in the typical happenings of a vampiric lifestyle, that did not protect them from the all seeing eyes of the Volturi, the whimsical laws of their world.

He receives his orders and sets out within the day to the United States. He studies the maps and the file he was given. He replays the instructions Aro gave him over and over again in his perfect memory.

It is time again, dear brother, to do what God has put you here for. To excavate the earth of its horrors by donning the horror yourself. End the suffering they bring.

The words never sat well with him, no matter how many different ways Aro chose to rephrase them each time he sent him out on these missions. In his 300 years, his work has dwindled, and he has been grateful, but - according to Aro - the Lord’s work is never done.

“Go forth and do His work,” Aro would smile. “Sweet angel of death.”

Esme is perched in her favorite tree, far into the forest and high into the sky, painting the early morning dawn rising before her on a canvas. Her paints are balanced precariously on a nearby branch, but they hold steady once her paintbrush departs the palette.

“Esme?”

She inclines her head in acknowledgement without taking her eyes from the artwork she attempts.

“Yes?” she replies, breaking the silence of the morning as Edward climbs up into the tree beside her.

His body is long and lanky, rough and awkward at times, causing the limbs to shutter and shake beneath his weight. Birds take flight at the disturbance, chirping in irritation at her son.

“I... I was thinking about heading down to Alaska for the week.”

Esme pauses, retracting her brush from the board to glance over at him, the downcast eyes and sheepish look. Technically, she is older than him, born in 1895, while he had not entered the earth until 1901, but his life stopped seventeen years later, while hers carried on a near ten more. Though, in vampiric years, he will always exceed her, his experience greater and more expansive.

He's been seventeen for just shy of one hundred years. She’s been part of the living dead for barely eighty.

Yet, in moments like these, he looks ever the boy he was the day his heart stopped beating.

“What’s happened, Edward?” she inquires, placing her supplies on the branch holding her paint and turning to face him.

“Nothing, nothing, I just...” He pauses, doesn’t speak for a long while, and she doesn’t push him. If she’s learned anything in these last eight decades, it’s to let him think it all through.

Edward is special, she’s always known that even before he explained his abilities to her. He can hear everything, every thought in every person’s mind. She knows how loud it can be for him in his own head. So she waits, patiently letting him sort through the chaos crowding his mind.

“There’s a girl.”

She nearly falls off the tree in glee.

“Esme.”

“I’m sorry, honey,” she grins, quickly covering it with her palm.

“It’s torture, mother,” he growls. “She’s human, she’s annoyingly persistent, and I can’t hear her.”

He lists the issues off on his long fingers, sounding so much like a troubled teenager in that painstaking moment, but his face looking absolutely agonized.

“And her blood - it’s different, it’s stronger than the others, it’s-” He huffs and buries his face in his hands.

Esme eases across the distance from her tree to his, sidling up next to him.

“I - you know, I always wondered when you would find your mate, so maybe-”

“She’s human,” Edward groans into the cove of his palms. “She can’t be. She can’t. I won’t allow this.”

“Okay, okay,” she hushes him, placing a tentative hand on his back. “We’ll figure this out. It’s going to be okay, son.”

Ever so slightly, he relaxes into the weight of her slim hand on his shoulder blade.

Just in time for him to be knocked from the branch.

It was easy enough to find the home located deep in the Washington woods, the impressive structure made from wood and glass. A beautiful home, one he almost felt guilty to destroy.

He would have to burn it once he was done here.

Finding its occupants was a simple next step, his silent travel through the surrounding forest leading him to the murmur of their voices.

The two of them sat high in a tree, sharing a branch and apparently so engrossed in a conversation that they fail to hear him quietly scaling the trunk a few feet behind theirs.

He decides to take out the male first, lunging across the distance and seamlessly knocking him from the branch from behind.

They go sailing to the forest floor, crashing to the ground in a shattering fall that carries the sounds of an earthquake.

His element of surprise did the job, taking the man completely off guard. His opponent sputters before fighting back, slipping from Carlisle’s tight grip.

“Who are you?” the other man - the boy, he looks to be just a boy - chokes out, spewing dirt from his mouth.

“It doesn’t matter.”

“Carlisle Cullen,” the boy snaps before Carlisle can make his next move, causing him a moment of pause. “Who - who are the Volturi?”

“How do you know that?”

“I - I heard it, in your mind,” the boy says quickly, arms up and ready to brace against Carlisle’s next attack.

The words shock him into stillness.

“You - you can read my thoughts?”

He doesn’t get to hear the boy’s answer. In the next second, an iron grip hooks around his neck, flings him into the nearest tree.

He grunts as he hits the tree and then the ground, the force impressive. He’s not used to the women being as great of a problem-

Carlisle ascends from the forest floor by the grip on his neck, a forearm cutting into his larynx as he’s pinned to the splintered spine of a tree at his back.

The sight before him would steal his breath if he had the oxygen stored in his lungs.

Yes, he saw her on the tree before his attack, but the glance hardly compared to this view of her blazing eyes level with his, the curls of caramel locks whipping his cheeks in the wind, and the scent of honeysuckles assaulting his senses.

“Touch my son again, and I will singlehandedly destroy you. Piece by piece,” she tells him, her voice calm but razor sharp.

She applies a jerk of pressure and he feels an alarming crack fissure along the side of his throat.

“Esme.” The boy’s voice at her back, his hand on her shoulder. “Esme, he’s not going to hurt us. Not right now, anyway.”

Those fiery eyes assess his face, holding his for a long moment before easing the pressure.

It feels terribly wrong, but all he can think in that split second is that he wouldn’t mind if this is how his life finally concluded.

The woman releases Carlisle with a huff and instantly moves to the boy, her son.

“Are you okay? Are you hurt?” She’s checking over him like a true mother hen, fluttering around him like an anxious bird.

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” the boy brushes her off, but he can sense the warmth of appreciation in his tone.

And with that assurance, she’s spinning on her heel, the sundress she wears fluttering around her calves.

“Who the hell are you and what do you think you’re doing?” she snarls, approaching him with that gorgeous fury back in place.

“Carlisle Cullen,” he says stupidly, stopping himself before he can hold a hand out to her. “I - I was sent here on assignment. Whenever we learn of certain individuals of our kind engaging in the most gruesome of sin, it is my job to handle the problem.”

“Sin?” she echoes incredulously.

“It was reported that you - your coven - are a threat to mankind-”

“We are all a threat to mankind,” she snaps, advancing on him again. “Some more than others, but certainly not us. Neither I, nor Edward have touched a human in over fifty years, so you and your employer need to either get your facts straight or update your records. Because you’re in the wrong place.”

It’s then that he notes her eyes.

Amber. A fiery brown like whiskey, flecks of gold around her pupils alive and sparking at him.

Far from red.

A quick glance to the boy, Edward, tells him the same.

“You abstain from human blood?”

Her eyes roll, but he notices a slight softening to her posture, a gentling to the maternal fury he evoked.

“Like I said, it’s been decades. I was the last to falter, shortly after my transformation. Since then, we have survived only on animals,” she clarifies, stepping back to stand closer to Edward.

“Not to mention, Esme goes for only the weakest and oldest,” Edward mutters, earning a swift elbow to the side.

“I don’t understand,” Carlisle murmurs, more to himself than the pair before him.

Aro had said the two he was to kill were menacing to the Pacific Northwest region of the United States, their bloodlust uncontained despite multiple warnings. He was shown pictures, blurred but clear enough to match the woman and the man before him.

The location matched, the identities, but... if what Edward and Esme says is true-

“He lied to you,” Edward cut in, finishing the thought he didn’t want to have. The onslaught of memories, the suspicions he’s pushed away for years, centuries, following and causing his skull to ache. “He likely always has been.”

“There’s no reason for him to...” But he can’t finish the argument. Aro loves control, power, more than all else. Is it possible he has somehow been keeping track of any and all vampires who may pose even the potential of a threat to that power and then ordered Carlisle to destroy them before the risk could grow?

“You are providing them with an act of mercy, Carlisle,” Aro had told him the first time he had made such a request. “Like Gabriel, the angelic messenger of God, you are delivering the good news that their suffering is over. To die at your hands, to be done with this eternal damnation... you are curing them of a plague none of us asked for.”

“Then why do we continue on, brother?” Carlisle had asked, noting himself, Aro, the court of vampires among them.

Aro had not missed a beat.

“Why, to keep order. This sickness, this spread of immortality will never end. Not truly. We cannot selfishly end our own lives and leave this earth to perish at the hands of the damned. It is our responsibility, our cross to bear, to continue. To fight the evils and keep them at bay. It is God’s will.”

Carlisle slumps backwards against the tree.

“We hold court over this hellish earth,” Aro explained to him softly. “And then we send you, an angel of mercy and death all in one, to cull it of what few demons we can. What other purpose could us, the damned, serve?”

He is a fool, to have ever believed that Aro ever gave a damn to what God would expect of them.

“Your leader, Aro, must have learned of my abilities somehow.”

Carlisle thought of Alice, the poor girl who often stuck close to him, whom Aro used to see futures and follies they were supposed to prevent.

“She must have seen you. Known your decision,” Carlisle surmises, no longer needing to explain the entirety of his thoughts with Edward reading them. He only explains further for the benefit of Esme. “Alice can see the future. She can see the decisions of others before they are even made. Aro - he told me Alice was able to see the wrongdoings of those I was sent out to... end.”

Now he understood why he and Alice were never allowed a moment alone. Why she always looked so pained, so stricken, each time he left for a job.

Carlisle slides down to the ground, thumping his head back against the hard bark of the tree.

He is no angel, only a monster.

It is not until the woman, Esme, crouches in front of him that time takes on meaning again.

“Carlisle?” she calls gently, the outrage gone from her face.

It’s the first time she’s said his name and he can’t deny it’s the most wondrous thing he’s ever heard. It’s a peculiar feeling, that even through his sudden grief, his upheaval of self-loathing, the proximity of this woman, the sound of his name in her mouth, is like a lightning bolt of clarity through his senses.

“Would it be too late,” he inquires hoarsely. “To request for you to destroy me piece by piece after all?”

Her brow creases in concern, the lovely line of her mouth turning downwards.

“There’s only one reason I would do that and something tells me you mean no harm to me or my son any longer.”

He scoffs, rubbing a hand down his jaw. “No. I never - I never meant harm to anyone. I thought I was... what a fool I am. To think I was doing a favor to my victims, doing what had to be done. A sick, masochistic fool.”

“You wanted to die from the moment you came into this existence,” Edward supplies from behind Esme. “You were only doing what you were told, doing what you thought your only purpose was.”

Carlisle shakes his head. “That doesn’t excuse it. Not at all.”

“No, but it offers understanding to your actions,” Esme tells him, her eyes soft now, golden like honey.

“You hated this,” Edward adds, his head tilting, eyes scrutinizing. The boy was completely in his head now, reading through every putrid thought. “Even though you hate what you are, a vampire, you despised killing the others. I even sensed your guilt as soon as you tackled me.”

“I tried to make it quick,” Carlisle chokes out. averting his eyes from Esme. He can’t look at her, not while he talks about this. “To take a life like that... mortal or not, it felt wrong. It always felt wrong.”

The sudden, feather light brush of a touch on his bent knee, brings his attention back to the present, to the woman in front of him.

“You don’t have to be that anymore,” Esme says ever so softly to him. It feels like something inside of him is splitting open, some dormant, suppressed part of him that died the day his humanity did. He somehow feels as if he is alive again.

No longer an ‘angel’ of death, a grim reaper, a husk of a human. He could be more, he could be what he always wished he could be, do something better with his abilities. More than Aro allowed, more than he himself ever allowed.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers to her, to them both. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’ll be okay, Carlisle,” Edward promises, no doubt sensing the overwhelm of panic in his mind. “You’ll be fine.”

The boy’s gaze falls to Esme and so Carlisle follows it and has the overwhelming urge to believe the words.

It’ll be okay.

If their kind could cry, she thinks Carlisle would be sobbing. He looks stricken, so destroyed by himself, his realizations. His brown eyes - a coppery shine with not a hint of red to them - have darkened severely over the hours.

She sits in front of him for those passing hours, one hand on his knee like an anchor. Part of her is afraid that if she lets go, he’ll drift away into the darkest parts of his mind that she knows Edward examines as they speak.

When morning turns to night, Edward offers to leave them for a hunt, reluctant at first, but they are both hungry. They were supposed to go earlier this morning, after she finished painting.

“You can go,” she assures him. “Carlisle won’t hurt me.”

Carlisle’s eyes flick up to find hers, a hint of horror at the mere thought, she’s sure.

Edward nods. “I know. I’ll be right back.”

In a flash of movement, he’s gone.

“Is he really your son?” Carlisle asks, staring into the swaying branches the boy left in his wake.

“Not biologically, no,” she answers. finally releasing his patella to fold her own legs beneath her. “Edward turned me in the 1920s.”

Carlisle’s brow arches.

“It wasn’t an easy decision for him,” she’s quick to add. “He hides it well, but I know he still feels guilt for it, still questions if he made the right decision.”

“May I ask what happened?”

Esme nods. “My husband and I, we were visiting Chicago. That’s where Edward is from, where he had been living since he was turned a few years earlier. My husband, Charles, he... he wasn’t a good man.” She instinctively begins to rub the mended bone of her wrist, one of the many bones he broke that final night. “We had gone to see a movie, he had been drinking, and after the film ended, he took me out into the back alley, beat me until I was nearly dead.”

She feels Carlisle stiffening before her, but she doesn’t dare look up until she’s finished.

“All I remember, all that Edward told me, is Charles being wrenched off of me. I had already passed out when Edward bit me.” She flips her hand, allowing Carlisle to see the two half moons healed on the inside of her wrist. “Edward used to hang around the city, targeting rapists and murderers. And abusive husbands, it seems.” She swipes her thumb over the scarred flesh. “He was wracked with guilt when I awoke a couple of days later, couldn’t stop apologizing long enough to explain what had even happened to me. The thirst took over, I made my first kill soon after.”

Esme swallows hard, never wanting to remember the face of the life she took, the innocent man walking outside that fateful day. But she’ll never forget it.

“We decide to move after that.”

“Here?” Carlisle asks, his voice gentle.

“No, Wisconsin first. Then Wyoming. Now Washington. Fans of the W’s apparently,” she jokes, finally risking a glance up to Carlisle’s face. “Edward’s only seventeen, but he’s been seventeen for nearly a century.”

“You’re a good mother to him,” Carlisle offers, a tentative half-smile tugging at his lips. The first she’s seen since meeting him.

“I try to be,” she murmurs, her lips rising to match his. “I love him as if he’s mine. I always have.”

“I’m sorry again, for how we had to meet,” he sighs, eyes falling to his lap.

“Then let’s change it.”

Esme extends her hand. Carlisle looks up confused, so she flicks her eyes to her hand, wiggles her fingers until he gingerly slides his palm into hers.

She ignores the ridiculous flutter in her stomach that she doesn’t quite understand.

“Hi,” she smiles at him. “I’m Esme Platt.”

His eyes shine for her.

“Carlisle Cullen,” he replies, giving her hand a tender shake.

“Pleasure to meet you. Now tell me your story, Carlisle Cullen.”

She draws her hand back to her lap, leans forward ready to listen, but he hesitates.

“It’s not a very good one.”

“I told you mine,” she huffs, watching his eyes cut to hers with a sparkle of amusement at her tone. “I won’t judge.”

She waits him out until he finally sighs, leans back into the tree as if getting comfortable.

“I was born in London, in the 1640s.”

#twilight fanfiction #esme cullen #carlisle cullen #esme x carlisle #carlesme #prompt!#my writing #okay so it was supposed to be a one shot #but then it grew #and now I'm 10k in #i'm sorry!#i can write shorter things i promise

17 notes · View notes