#🖇️﹟ 𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐬 .ᐟ

[sincerelyverena]

pls pls pls charles x short!alive!reader? established relationship, maybe just some fluffy moments between the two?

⟡⁺ THE GHOST OF YOU

tysm for the req, anon! 💞💞 ive thoroughly enjoyed my return here, n now the story is yours n i hoped u enjoyed it as much as i loved writing it <3 special shoutout to my dbd betareaders, i love and appreciate all of u sm!

. . . CHARLES ROWLAND X GN!READER ‘think i like you best when you're just with me and no one else.’ @andforthecoating

inbox is always open for requests!

in whichꕀ

✦ ﹒you love him. and he loves you too. a story as simple as that.

tagsꕀ

✦ ﹒fluff ﹐short!reader﹐alive!reader ﹐established relationship ﹐im still getting a feel for charles character so go easy on me pls ﹐havent written non-smut in a long LONG time

THANK YOU TO MY WONDERFUL BETA READERS: @love-xoxojules﹐@immortal101 ﹐@fadedpictures91 ﹐@charles-rxwlands﹐ @kidbiscuitt @smallestgremlin

Falling in love with a ghost wasn’t on the cards for you, until you met Charles Rowland.

The supernatural had haunted you since you were a small child, being the victim of a near-death experience isn’t easy on any youngling. Especially you. The consequences of viewing these seemingly mythological creatures took years of patience and silent work to endure, more so, because nobody would ever believe you if you told them you saw ghosts. How ghastly.

And as a young child, you couldn’t imagine that decades into the future, you’d be laid between the arms of one. Two bronzed columns that supported the minuscule length of your torso. And for a ghost? Charles is oddly warm. Or maybe that’s you warming up to your idea of your body heat, marinating in the crisp sheets of your bed. A sanctuary the two of you now shared, together.

But it was nice to think that it was Charles too. He was the reason why you felt comfortable and protected after all. In a world of witchcraft, warlocks, dangers, and death Charles was your home.

A pair of bow-turned lips place themselves against your temple, assisting you in drifting out of sleep. Charles murmurs against the surface of your skin, planting scattered kisses along the top of your head in the process. ‘Dove, we’re meeting Crystal for coffee, remember?’

Charles’s gently mustered words are enough to serenade a response out of your sleepy self. You murmur incoherent words, flipping yourself over so that when you inch your eyes open, they can delight in your boyfriend’s beauty.

His ebony-clad curls are fluffed to perfection atop his head, not a hint of bed-head in sight, which you consider impressive before you remember that Charles mostly spent the night just watching you. As if nothing else in the world matters. You extend a hand to the defined curve of his jaw, practically guiding his lips toward your own. They lock together in familiarity, and nothing but pure, honeyed ecstasy buzzes throughout you. This is better than coffee, better than anything. Charles tasted like heaven, hell, and everything in between.

And as you two separated, Charles beamed down at you with something indescribable bouncing around in his whiskey eyes.  ‘I think a sleep-in wouldn’t hurt, now, would it?’ Rising to the day seems like the logical option. Something that barely crosses your mind for a second before you fall captive to those bronzed arms, weaving around the hitch of your waist. And before you know it, you discover yourself half-tossed atop the ghost you had fallen for. The tall length of his legs tangled with your own. And any responsible, adult-like thought dissolved as your lips crashed together. Something oh-so-destructible yet perfect, how could you say no?

And possibly, that perfect destruction is always the reason why you both are considered late to possibly anything imaginable. If Edwin found himself in the depths of the fiery circles of hell again, the entire group would bet that you and Charles would take an eternity to part before he’d get rescued. It’d be more beneficial for Edwin to smuggle out himself.

‘We’re going to be awfully late, angel.’

‘Maybe because you keep distracting me.’

‘Nonsense, I’m brills and can do no wrong.’

You tear your eyes away from your reflection in the mirror before you. You scrutinise Charles with a disbelieving gaze at his words, which shortly dissolve into nothing less than adoration. Nevertheless, you continued to feign annoyance as you combed a single hand through your hair and down your scalp. Fingers adjusting the little strands to suit your desire for tidiness. 

You abandon this aspiration, pivoting upon your heel. The mask of annoyance you pertain slips away into nothingness as a soft laugh escapes you amid your words. Facing your boyfriend, you slip a hand into his own.

‘You’re lucky that I love you.’ 

'I am so very lucky.'

Charles’ adjusted his position as he moved his lips from the curve of your forehead, toward the curve of your lips. There was something passionate about how the deep onyx of hues sparked with something even deeper. Something warm and honeyed, indescribable. And before you could even decipher what it was you could feel the honeyed taste of him upon your lips, Charles scooped you up and threw you over his shoulder.

His arm relented against the small of your back, even as you holler out empty threats and meaningless curses amid your laughter. This merely prompted Charles to bounce you atop his shoulder blade, a chuckle of his own heard as you huffed and puffed. Nevertheless, you would refuse to admit that the action of soft intimacy made you feel over the moon with exhilaration.

A curse of Charles’s own accompanied your laughter as he was a breath away from the side of his torso slamming into the doorway he attempted to parade you through, which frankly made you laugh harder.

‘You’re such a dick.’ You managed to wheeze out.

‘I think you may be right about that one.’

Charles’s voice sounded with a tinge of mischief, which crept, announced in his tone. You could almost hear the grin in his voice as he articulated his words, even through your limited peripheral vision as you were held captive in his arms.

‘You love it, though.’

The Charles-like cockiness your boyfriend presented caused you to blow out a breath of feigned exasperation. Yet, unbeknownst to him, the slow ghost of a smile proceeded to creep onto your lips. Especially as he continued to balance you upon the bridge of his broadened shoulder, for a hint of dramatics, of course. Because you did love it.

And as the two of you ventured toward inevitable lateness, you couldn’t help but think how you couldn’t wait to do it all again the following morning.

WORD COUNT: 973 MASTERLIST REQ ME!

[sincerelyverena]

HII if you feel like writing this, could i request a charles/genderfluid reader in which the reader comes out to him ? and with other fluff xx

no worries if not though !

⟡⁺ INDECISIVE

thank u anon! <3 i luv this req eeeee

. . . CHARLES ROWLAND X GENDER FLUID!READER ‘there is a difference between body and mind.’ @andforthecoating

inbox is always open for requests!

in whichꕀ

✦ ﹒your trust in charles is put to the test when you come out to him.

tagsꕀ

✦ ﹒fluff ﹐amab!reader﹐established relationship ﹐charles being the supportive partner he is ﹐reader is a lil anxious

THANK YOU TO MY WONDERFUL BETA READERS: @arthursdonkeyears﹐@deadshowsagency﹐@no-baths-for-stan

You didn’t know how to tell him. But it hurt not to. It had been plaguing you for days, and you held it tightly to your chest. Internally grimacing every time you were referred to wrongly, even though you knew it wasn’t his fault. He just didn’t know.

And over the past few days, Charles had been oblivious to it all. Every time he picked up on your shift in energy, you lied through your teeth, ignoring every single opportunity to sit him down and tell him.

So you shouldn’t have been surprised when the universe thrust you into an awkward position that night, virtually giving you a decision to tell your boyfriend once and for all.

You had picked up a wig from a store downtown the day prior and were itching to try it on. You had followed every instruction you watched from your phone, laying down the wig onto the adhesive you had applied to the wig cap. 

Brushing the hairs out with the pad of your fingers, you stared into the reflection of the mirror in front of you. Your lips upturned, feeling positively elated at the sight. You were so caught up in gender euphoria that you hadn’t realised that Charles had drifted into the bathroom, as casual as Charles could be.

‘[Y/N]?’

Oh, shit.

You slowly turned around at a comedic pace, and met Charles’s eyes with a plethora of anxiety that suddenly grappled at your throat. He wasn’t supposed to find out in this way, was he? And his look of confusion was enough for you to blurt out the one thing that screamed out in your mind.

‘I’m genderfluid,’ you said without a second thought.

Realisation seeped into Charles, blurring out the prior confusion. His shoulders slumped, and his lips quirked upwards. He was… smiling? Nevertheless, he didn’t say anything and just stepped towards you, slipping his arms around the curve of your waist and pulling you into him.

‘Why didn’t you tell me?’ Charles mumbled into the top of your head.

Your arms were draped around his shoulders, you practically inhaled him. You had zero idea how his clothes still carried the scent he wore when he was still alive, but it served to be a comfort in that moment. ‘I was scared.’

At the hue of your words, Charles pulled away momentarily to look down at you. His lips were pressed together, presenting a look of seriousness that rarely shone through, except in times like this. ‘You thought I’d judge you? That’s bollocks.’

You looked away. ‘No, I— I didn’t  know how to explain it.’

Charles reached upwards. The pad of his thumb met the bottom of your chin, and his eyes softened incredibly. Lips parted. ‘I’m always going to be yours, love. No matter who you are.’

The intensity and the emotion in his words brought you to tears in a literal sense. Relief flooded throughout you and you ducked your head, feeling your eyes sting with unshed tears. The action of telling Charles something of this extent had become such a burden for you, that it felt as if you could finally breathe again.

‘So I’m assuming you’re my girlfriend right now, right?’ Charles added on, causing you to blink back your tears and look up. He was admiring you. A stark opposite to what your anxieties had whispered to you moments prior.

You smiled, absentmindedly running a hand through the wig you had installed. ‘Yeah, I am.’

‘In that case, you’re the fittest girl that I’ve ever laid eyes on.’ Charles’s serious tone slipped back into the similar flirtatiousness he typically used around you. He lowered himself to press a singular, long kiss at the top of your head.

That same elated feeling you had experienced after you saw yourself with the wig on returned tenfold at being addressed in that manner, and a laugh slipped from you. Staring up at your boyfriend with all of the love and light in the world, gender euphoria warm and honeyed in your veins.

‘I love you,’ you murmured.

‘I love you too, sweetheart.’ Charles pulled back, hands still propped on the hitch of your waist. He smiled down at you. ‘Now, there’s a little charity shop a block away and I’m positive there’s an outfit there that’ll look brills with your hair.’

Take that, anxiety!

WORD COUNT: 781 MASTERLIST REQ ME!

[sincerelyverena]

can u write a charles x alive and very stubborn/dramatic reader? the reader is alive but really wants to help with cases, and charles won’t let them out of fear of them getting hurt or dying. so, in retaliation, the reader just puts on like a shit ton of iron jewelry to keep charles away from them lol. tysm!!

⟡⁺ OUR IRON LUNG

thank you for the support, anon!

. . . CHARLES ROWLAND X GN!READER ‘faith, you're driving me away.’ @andforthecoating

inbox is always open for requests!

in whichꕀ

✦ ﹒charles doesn't let you tag along for cases, so you retaliate with something that'll give him more than a metaphorical headache.

tagsꕀ

✦ ﹒fluff ﹐alive!reader﹐stubborn!reader ﹐established partner ﹐reader is petty asf ﹐charles hurt his bum bum on the iron ﹐willy willy

You admired the set of rings, bangles and earrings you had stolen from the back of a bunch of nearby charity shops. Small ones. Big ones. Necklaces so lengthy that they would reach the ground with zero issues. But what did all of these items of glamour have in common?

‘Are you having a laugh? Iron, seriously?’ Charles demanded at once at the sight of you.

You had your hands raised. Solid, iron rings decorated every finger, travelling down to the other items dangling by your wrists. By your neck. Even a set of iron anklets by your feet. You went the extra mile to prove a point.

‘Perhaps if you let me help with this case.’ You teasingly slipped a finger around one of the rings, gradually slipping it off of one digit. Before you turn around and transfer it to another, your tone turned blunt and annoyed. ‘I wouldn’t be doing this right now.’

‘It’s for your good, love, honestly.’ Charles continued to argue, moving to reach out before realising he was incapable of touching you unless he wanted to experience some real affliction. ‘Are you seriously telling me you want me in pain? That's what you're saying, isn't it?’

You pressed your hands together, rings twinkling in the overhead lights of the corridor. ‘No. I’m asking to just help on a bloody case!”

Crystal poked her head out of her room. Her dark eyes were filled to the brim with concern as she watched you and your boyfriend argue back and forth, the concern doubling at the iron you wore from head to toe.

‘Charles, maybe let her tag along on this one.’ Crystal says, in an attempt to resolve the situation. Looking half worried she’ll step out and some ghost is going to be struck with your iron fist if anyone else debated with your movement.

‘Oi, I’m not that thick, alright?’ Charles shot back in turn, looking over his shoulder before he turned back toward you. His eyes softened, voice lowering as he spoke once more.

‘Look, these cases are proper dangerous. I don’t want you getting hurt, alright?’

‘As long as I have you, I won’t.’ You continued to press him, lowering your iron-clad hands by your sides. Staring Charles down in the process. ‘Are you saying you won’t be able to protect me?’

Charles took a singular step closer, eyes anxiously flickering down to the iron dangling by your neck. He paused for a moment before he shook his head. ‘Can’t risk it, not this time.’

You scoffed, staring into his worry-filled eyes. Acting like a little kid who didn’t get their way, you turn on your heel, storming back toward your room at the end of the hall. The sounds of your jewellery clinking sounded out behind you.

‘Suit yourself.’ You shouted over your shoulder.

Charles most likely didn’t think this through until later that night. When that case in particular was done and finished, closed successfully. You and him typically cuddled in bed when you were ready for sleep, and even though Charles was incapable of sleep, he liked to be there by your side with you. Like a protector.

But that night, it was impossible as he walked into your room. Eyes falling onto you, still wearing that heavy-ass iron, all about your body. At second glance, this time, there was even more.

‘You’ve got to be taking the mick, right?’ Charles blurted out at once.

You curled up beneath your bedsheets, looking at your boyfriend, innocently. ‘Huh?’

‘The iron, yeah?’

‘I wasn’t joking when I told you to suit yourself.’

Charles clawed both hands through his hair. He was torn between two options. Allow you to tag along on a case and possibly have to witness you die or get hurt, or keep you safe and be unable to touch you for the rest of time. 

‘Look. I’ll make a deal.’ You spoke up, watching as your boyfriend had a mini-crisis right there in your bedroom. And you weren’t that heartless. You propped yourself up on your elbows. 

‘Go on.’ Charles, deflatingly, murmured from behind his hands.

‘I tag along on a case.’ You begin, fiddling with one of the rings weighing your finger down. ‘I’m by your side the whole time and afterwards, if you never want me to come again, I won’t.’

Charles dropped his hands to his sides. He thought for a moment. It made sense. He ignored the jolt of anxiety that told him to say no, to go against it. ‘Fine. But don’t pull this sort of crap again, yeah?’ Charles gestured to the iron jewellery you were currently taking off.

‘I would never want to hurt my perfect, fit, protective boyfriend.’ You drawled, tossing the iron that had the potential to hurt him on the bed.

‘Such a charmer, proper sly.’

Charles was all focused on you as he spoke, giving a roll of his eyes. He reached forward for you, moving to say something else as he plopped himself onto the edge of your covers. But all that came out was a strangled scream as he sat on the disposed iron you had tossed over.

‘OW. BLOODY HELL.’

WORD COUNT: 955 MASTERLIST REQ ME!