Carlesme

esme and carlisle are the real mvps and they are freaks get fucked sm*yers 🖕🏽

[carlesme0615]

Emmett: Isn’t it weird that we can’t ride any other animal except horses. Like if horses weren’t a thing, humans would be fucked cause they couldn’t ride any other animals. Like riding animals wouldn’t really be a thing. We should probably be more grateful to horses. 
Alice: Elephants.
Emmett: Blocked. 
Rosalie: Camels. 
Emmett: Extra blocked. 
Edward: Donkeys. 
Emmett: Ultra blocked. 
Esme: That dick.

Carlisle: 😳
Emmett: ...Followed.

[needahugfromesme]

Sketch

[aleizeclaire]

One Hard Pill to Swallow

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

“Carlisle–”

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh no.”  

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

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

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

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

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

“Why are you here?”

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

“Carlisle–”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I left him there-”  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

****

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

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

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

“What are you doing?”

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

“Oh.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Let me take a look.”

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

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

“Carlisle please–”

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

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

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

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

****

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

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

Carlisle didn’t want to be forgiven.

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

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

[jadedgravity]

Esme and Carlisle

[fiddlesolo]

I love your writing! Can you write something about Carlisle turning up to work with lipstick on his cheek and the nurses/other doctors jokingly teasing him

“Esme,” Carlisle breathed, pulling away from her despite his own body’s protest. “I have to go...”

She whimpered, a needy little noise that she might have been embarrassed about not long ago but not any longer. Ever since coming from their honeymoon they’d both been dreading the day he’d have to return to the hospital.

“I know.” He murmured, pressing another kiss to her lips to erase the frown. “I’ll be home in just a few hours.”

Esme sighed but nodded, lifting onto toes to leave unintentional lipstick stains along his cheeks, smudging one to his neck. “I didn’t know it would be so hard to give you up.”

He couldn’t help but smile, his thumb moving gently along fabric of her dress. He held her so reverently— even after a few months worth of nights spent together. “Believe me, love, it’s just as difficult for me. I have half a mind to resign.”

She let her forehead drop to his, chuckling. “Oh darling, the humans need you.”

It took them a few moments but eventually Carlisle left and made his way toward the hospital. He tried not to seem too melancholic as he walked through the doors, forcing a smile to anyone he passed.

When he found himself standing before the nurses station, the popular hangout of all the young doctors and their favorite nurses, he was surprised by their laughs.

One of the newer doctors grinned at him. “Ey Cullen, I take it you had a nice honeymoon.”

He furrowed his brow, reaching toward his little pile of papers. “I did.”

“We can tell.”

Before Carlisle could question them, the kind receptionist that he was rather fond of stepped up to him. She gave the younger men a look before dragging him by the arm over toward her desk.

Carlisle watched as the fifty something year old reached into her handbag and produced a compact mirror.

“Take a look at yourself.” She told him.

The doctor gave her a confused look but did as she said. When he noticed the lipstick, the distinctly Esme shaped shades of pale pink he could of sworn he felt himself blush for the first time in centuries. She’d even managed to get it on his neck, his shirt collar...

“Oh...”

The receptionist laughed and reached into her bag again. She handed him a package of wet wipes and nodded toward the bathroom. “Go clean yourself up, loverboy.”

send me fic prompts

[cullencouture]

Esme in 1958

[fiddlesolo]

carlisle, 1920:

carlisle, 1921:

[fiddlesolo]

twilight au where everything is the same except esme gone girls her ex husband and then goes back to ohio as a vamp to watch him hang for her murder while she wears a scarf over her hair and comically large sunglasses as she stands in the crowd of people around the gallows

[fiddlesolo]

carlesme pda

Esme leaned back against his chest as she studied the painting hanging on the gallery’s wall. “I love the brushstrokes.” She murmured.

Carlisle hummed in agreement, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “The artist did an impeccable job of utilizing the shadows.”

She nodded. “It reminds me of the coast of our island.”

“It does.”

“I miss it.” Esme said, laying her head back against his shoulder to look up at him. “We haven’t had alone time in a while.”

It was true. The two of them hadn’t been able to get away from their family in nearly a year. Their children weren’t technically children but with everything that had happened since Bella came into their lives, they’d been hesitant to leave. Esme refused to leave them, especially Renesmee and Bella.

“Oh, so you’re going to let me take you somewhere?” He asked, his voice slightly teasing.

“I’m not picky, darling. I’ll let you take me right here.”

Carlisle nearly choked, chuckling in surprise. He lowered his head to press a kiss against the side of her neck, his hands sliding up underneath her shirt. “You’re a tease.”

“It’s only teasing if I don’t follow through.” She breathed, pressing her back firmly against his front.

His hands continued their journey up her sides, his thumbs brushing against the fabric of her bra. His lips moved along the scars he’d left on her neck nearly a century ago.

“Carlisle-”

The sound of a human approaching and clearing their throat pulled them out of their little moment. Carlisle buried his nose against her hair to hide his laughter.

“Dr. and Mrs. Cullen, there have been complaints about your public displays of affection.” The kind man that worked at the front told them. “I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to keep your hands to yourselves or leave the premises.”

Esme gave the poor, uncomfortable man an apologetic smile as she stepped out of her husband’s arms. “We apologize. We’ll behave.”

send me fic prompts

[fiddlesolo]

you did one of a fire at the hospital can we get one where Esmes at a place that starts on fire and Carlisle’s reaction

“Esme!” Carlisle called, his voice shaking as he tried to move toward the the burning house.

He felt weak, human hands against his arm. “You can’t go in there.” Chief Swan told him, attempting to guide the vampire back to the group of people watching from the sidewalk.

Carlisle looked at the man- they’d only met one or two times since their family had moved back to Forks. He’d always been nice, had been one of the only local residents to not be too wary of them.

“Esme’s in there.” He told him, using all of the restraint he could muster not to knock him to the ground.

“It’s an empty house.”

“She’s renovating it!” Carlisle growled, easily shaking the man’s hands off of him and rushing toward the house.

It took him only a matter of seconds to realize that the front door was not going to budge open. He made his way around to the back and with a running start, knocking the back door from its hinges.

“Esme!” He called, squinting to see through the smoke. It was impacting even his perfect vampire vision.

The heat was stifling, the walls cracking, windows shattering.

“Esme, love, please...” His voice wavered. “Please say something.”

“Carlisle!” Came the sound of her voice, desperate and scared. “Help!”

He looked down at the floor where he discovered her voice was coming from. She was trapped in the basement.

He looked around before finding the stairwell leading downstairs completely engulfed in flames. The walls were burning too making it impossible for her to climb or leap out.

“Esme?” He called again. “Keep talking to me.”

“You have to get out of here!”

“Not without you.”

“I’m stuck. There’s fire blocking everything...”

Carlisle looked around frantically before falling to his knees. He used his hands to pull the wooden floorboards that she’d just placed day before up and out of the way.

In just a matter of seconds, he’d created a hole in the floor that allowed him to see into the basement.

She was trapped in the middle of the room- the fire must have started down there and quickly gotten out of control. The flames were so high that she couldn’t make her way out through any door or window.

“Jump, Esme!” He called.

She jumped to him without hesitation, her arms wrapping tightly around his neck when he caught her.

“I’ve got you.” He breathed against her hair.

After a second, she pulled back and allowed him to lead her through the kitchen where he’d entered. The kitchen was being claimed by the flames- they’d have to be quick.

“A running leap.” Carlisle told her. “That’s all we have to do.”

The two of them did just that. They leapt over the flames and landed safely in the overgrown grass of the backyard.

Before he could even stand, she threw herself at him. He caught her with welcoming arms. He tightened his hold on her and willed himself to relax.

She was okay.

She was here.

She was safe.

He buried his nose against her hair to take in the comforting scent of home. He didn’t smell her scent, though, instead she smelled of smoke- a reminder of how close he’d come to losing her.

“Oh, my love, I was so scared.” He murmured into her hair, his hand resting on the back of her head.

“I thought I was going to die.”

He held her closer. “I love you.”

“I love you.” She whispered, pressing a kiss against the scars that covered his neck. Using her nose, she nudged his shirt aside to kiss against the worst of the marks. “I love you so much.”

They held tightly to each other as the home continued to burn behind them.

send me fic prompts

[fiddlesolo]

Carlisle first time going down on esme?? # love carlesme❤️❤️❤️#

ok so i’m not one to write porn but i’ll write about it for shits and giggles i guess

She was panting despite not needing to breathe as her shaking fingers ran through Carlisle’s hair. The doctor kissed his way up her body until he could press his lips against her jaw.

Esme breathed his name softly, tilting her head to give him better access to her neck. “That was...”

Carlisle smiled against her skin, in complete awe of her, of how her body responded to his touch.

They’d both been so nervous for their honeymoon. Carlisle because he had no prior experiences and Esme because of the violence of her past. Neither knew what to expect. They trusted each other, of course, love each other- but they were afraid of what adding a physical aspect to their relationship could do.

Their first time had been very slow, their movements gentle as they explored. They treated each other with an reverence that had been foreign to them before. They hadn’t known it could be like that.

Now, less than twenty-four hours later, they were still falling in love with the discovery of each other.

“That was incredible.” Esme murmured, turning her head to bump her nose against his.

Carlisle nodded in agreement as he nuzzled his nose against hers.

“Where did you learn to do that? I’d never- I didn’t know...”

“I’m a doctor, love. I’m well versed in the different parts of the female body.”

Esme giggled at that. She turned onto her side to face him, hooking her leg over his thighs and nipping at his chin. “I better be the only female body you’re well aquatinted with, Dr. Cullen.”

“Of course.” He chuckled, running his hand gently along the soft skin of the outside of her thigh.

“I am not as educated as you.” Esme told him, pressing a kiss to his lips. “But fortunately for both of us, you’re a wonderful teacher and I am a very fast learner.”

“That you are.” Carlisle agreed, fighting back a shiver that shouldn’t have been able to run through his body but did anyway at the feel of her hand descending.

send me fic prompts

[robertphilip]

Since Carlisle was alone for so long, that means he was most likely pretty touched starved. Just imagine the first time Esme would have, very briefly, touched his hand.

For the rest of the day, Carlisle is just staring at the spot she touched, internally having a break down. Meanwhile, Edward’s in the other room, trying not to rip his hair out.

[needahugfromesme]

Imagine Esme left a lipstick kiss on Carlisle's face. He smiled shyly when she tried to wipe the mark off with her fingers. For the first time, with the pink stain on his cheek, Esme knew what Carlisle would look like when he's blushing.

[hortensia-cullen]

BRUH-

[palmofafreezinghand]

11, 15? 🫶🏻 I feel like both are Carlesme coded!

prompt list: #15 “I didn’t realize I was waiting for you until you showed up.”

1921. 

“Es,” he muttered against her lips, one of his hands tangled in her hair, the other had slipped under the hem of her blouse and was splayed against her back. “We need to stop,” he struggled to say as her hand drifted further down his chest. The statement fell flat, seeing as his hands did not move from her, his face close enough to her he could fell the air shift as she opened her eyes. 

“Why?” She whispered. 

“Because I care to think of myself as a gentleman.” He had never wished he could throw all morals out the window as much as he did in that moment. “And I am afraid if we continue I will forget all of my manners. And you deserve nothing but respect, Esme.” 

She laughed, and Lord was that a magnificent sound. She pulled away to  get a good look at his face, threading her arms around his neck. “I have been married, Carlisle, surely you realize I have been… defiled far earlier than now.” 

“Yes, yes,” he smiled gently, pausing before the next thought, weighing the words he knew he ought to have said weeks before. He took a deep inhale, “But I have never… been where we were headed. And I would very much like to wait to… travel there until we… until —” he was struggling to find the next words. The one he wished to use, marriage, held more weight than a ship anchor and would have caused her to bolt like a frightened deer. Instead, he allowed his sentence to trail off, a silence that only lasted a few seconds before Esme spoke. 

“You have never…?” She repeated, brows creasing as the weight of the statement fully sunk in. 

“No.” 

“Surely not,” she laughed, as if in disbelief. 

“I am afraid so.”

He was attempting to not take offense to her shock. In the back recesses of his mind he had pondered the idea she might think less of him. Yet, it had been such a fleeting thought, and so unlike her that seeing it come to fruition was disheartening. Perhaps, he should have let her continue. Although, he supposed if he did that at some point she would have been able to guess his history, or lack thereof. 

“But you are charming, and kind, and handsome beyond belief. Surely you had the opportunity.” 

“I - I suppose I might have, but I never had the desire to.” 

“Ever?” 

“No. In fact, you are the first woman I have ever kissed,” Carlisle said, attempting to laugh, an solid try to bring an ounce of levity to the scene. He reached for her hand but she had already pulled it to herself. 

“Oh God,” Esme groaned, letting her face fall into her hands. 

“Esme. Please do not let this change your opinion of me,” he said, in a voice that sounded so close to a plea. 

“Less of you?” She looked up at him, eyes wide, and finally took his hand. “No. I could never.” 

“Then may I ask why this is upsetting?” 

“For all this time you have been waiting for some perfect woman. For two hundred years, and you never found her. And we both know I am not her.” 

Oh, he could have laughed. This was her concern. He should have known this would have been her response. The nearly perfect woman who refused to let the monstrosity of the world thrust upon her harden her, who thought the world was still good despite being shown only proof otherwise her entire life. The one who laughed at his jokes, who talked for hours about the book he recommended she read, and was ecstatic to show him the crow’s nest in the backyard. The intelligent, compassionate, loving woman whose ring size he had figured out weeks ago, and whose name was written on an antique diamond hidden away in his desk drawer. 

“Why not?” 

“Please,” she scoffed, standing from the couch where they had been entwined. He watched as she began to pace around his study, hands busying themself by picking at her frozen cuticles. “I do not think I realized quite how doomed we are until this moment. I had allowed myself to hope — not for forever — but for a little bit of time with you and now… I am sorry, it was foolish.” 

“I do not think we are doomed,” he said, crossing one leg over the other. 

“I can never be a woman worth waiting that long for. And that is who you deserve, that is who you have been waiting for all this time.” 

“Esme, I do not think I have been waiting for anyone. It was never a thought that truly crossed my mind for more than a fleeting moment. And then I met you, and I had not realized I was waiting for you until you showed up. Believe me when I say I you have been most certainly worth the wait.” 

“You do not mean that.” 

“I do,” he smiled. “And I will spend as long as I need to convince you I mean it wholeheartedly.” He held his hand out in front of him, she stared at it for a few breaths before reluctantly taking it and letting him pull her back to the couch. 

“I am sorry,” she said quietly. 

“You have no reason to be.” 

“I love you.” 

“I love you,” he said, meeting the kiss she pulled him into. A much gentler embrace than the last. When they finally pulled away, foreheads resting against the other’s, Carlisle whispered, “and please know I would like to…. with you, but perhaps not an hour before Edward is expected home.” 

“You must think me such a tart,” she laughed. 

“No. After all I am charming, and kind, and what was it oh handsome beyond belief,” he grinned. She pushed his shoulder, knocking him back onto the couch, but not before he caught her hand, pulling her down into the couch with him. 

[stregoni-benefici]

There are many things that remind me of Carlisle Cullen and this is one of them:

[howly]

throwback to that one time when edward was a matchmaker

[carlesme0615]

Esme: Well fuck me if I'm wrong, but-

Carlisle: You can't say that everytime we argue!